Pitch-black mana coats the cold edge of the Moonlight Sword. It is a sword harboring endless malice and darkness, incomparable to Sien’s previous Nevermore.
The sword can kill an opponent instantly by a mere touch or graze—more effectively than any curse. Conversely, it is useless unless it touches or grazes. For that reason, the family’s Fourth Stance, the Stance of the Raven, still maintains its identity as a sword style.
“The moment this blade even grazes you, you die,” Yohan said in a cold voice. He would certainly die.
“If you want to live, watch closely and dodge.”
“…That’s easier said than done.”
“What do you think? Isn’t it easy?”
Those words wrapped around Sien’s neck with a strange chill. Furthermore, in the Nightwalker family, injuring or killing a family member in an accident wasn’t exactly rare. The lethality of each family sword style could take a life in a split second of carelessness, even in a mock battle where the opponent was being held back.
Among them, the lethality of the Stance of the Raven—especially the Fourth Stance used by a Master who had reached a certain level—was avoided even within the family. Bringing out Nevermore in front of family was considered an unspoken taboo —.
*Tap.*
There was no time to wallow in self-reproach. Before he knew it, the pitch-black edge of Nevermore, coated over the Moonlight Sword, was swung.
However, it wasn’t any of the high, middle, or low stances commonly seen in swordsmanship. No, it was at a level where calling it swinging a sword felt awkward. A bizarre, aberrant stance where light, dance-like movements coexisted with an off-beat limpness.
‘I can’t read the movements at all.’
‘It’s only natural.’
The sword of death, Nevermore, kills certainly the moment it slightly grazes or touches. Therefore, there was no need to aim for vitals or inflict fatal wounds. It was swung solely on the premise of the blade touching the body somehow.
The logic or doctrines seen in sword styles until now did not apply here. It was elegant and flamboyant, like a dancer dancing, with movements that completely excluded ‘practicality’ as swordsmanship. A sword where not a shred of common sense applied.
It was in this context that most Masters who had mastered the Stance of the Raven, such as Isabelle and Gretel, used magic as their main force instead of the sword. The identity of the Stance of the Raven as a sword style lay thoroughly in making Nevermore graze or touch the opponent by any means. Consequently, the more proficient one became with the Fourth Stance, the further they drifted from other ‘ordinary sword styles.’
For instance, the Stance of the Clear Mirror, which focuses thoroughly on orthodox swordsmanship, has poor compatibility with the Stance of the Raven, which could be called a heterodox path. The more one masters the Fourth Stance, the Stance of the Raven, the more they find themselves unable to use the Third Stance, the Stance of the Clear Mirror—and conversely, the more proficient one is in the Third Stance, the harder it is to use the Fourth.
In addition, the Thorn Stance did not harmonize with the Stance of the Black Widow; not all nine sword styles of the family produced easy synergies. For that reason, becoming a Highmaster of the family carried a different weight than mastering just one.
Unlike building one from nothing, it meant refining one sword style to the realm of the subconscious and then rebuilding a body completely specialized for it to become a Master of another. Even for sword styles with great compatibility, there were no exceptions. For example, even for two styles said to have the best compatibility, like the Stance of the Clear Mirror and the Thorn Stance, mastering the second after the first was like the difference between heaven and earth.
It was for a similar reason that the Sien of the future could not use the Stance of the Raven, Nevermore. At that time, Sien had already mastered the Stance of the Clear Mirror, and the Third Stance, which had been internalized over a lifetime, did not allow for learning a new stance.
‘It’s different now.’
Regardless of what was in Sien’s mind, his body was still close to a blank sheet of paper. What and how he would coat that blank sheet was ultimately up to him.
“Don’t look away, or you’ll die.”
Right then, death traced a trajectory before Sien’s eyes. In an off-beat, limp-like motion, the black blade accelerated like an explosion. It was an elegant and beautiful movement, like a dancer dancing.
“In the face of Nevermore, there are no specific vitals you need to consciously protect.”
Because everything the sword grazes or touches becomes a vital point.
*Clang!*
Sien concentrated his consciousness. It wasn’t to take down the opponent or inflict a wound. Nor was it an overtly defensive posture to protect himself. He simply reflected the malicious sword before him in a clear, clean mirror and stared with an unwavering mindset.
Mental state.
“Ho, the Stance of the Clear Mirror.”
Yohan smiled as if intrigued. The stance of orthodox swordsmanship, said to be the purest among the Nightwalker family’s styles. In comparison, the Stance of the Raven was considered the ultimate heterodox path even within the family.
“What do you see reflected in the mirror of your heart?”
Sien did not answer. He didn’t have the luxury to leisurely respond to his opponent. The sword lunged forward, and Sien focused his mind.
The mirror of the heart. He wasn’t looking at the opponent. He wasn’t looking for an opening. From the start, Sien hadn’t been looking at Yohan. He was only thoroughly staring at the blade of malice in his hand, Nevermore.
There was no such thing as an invincible sword style in the world. Even for the Stance of the Raven, it was the same.
*Clang!*
The sound echoed. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t run away. Yet, there was not a shred of will to take down the enemy in his actions.
*Clang!*
As if facing a mirror, imitating the movements and creating symmetry. This was the counter for the Fourth Stance.
Nevermore wasn’t just a sword. It was magic and a demonic blade that maintained a high-level curse, infused with endless hatred into mana. No Archmage in the world could maintain such a high-level spell all day.
‘Of course, a better counter would be to turn tail and run.’
That was only if running was an option. But no one in the world could turn their back and run from a Nightwalker assassin.
—The light of Nevermore in Yohan’s hand grew dim. The darkness, deep as pitch, scattered, and the moonlight edge hidden within cast its light.
‘Is it over…?’
No sooner had he thought it than he realized his mistake. Nevermore’s mana hadn’t weakened. Rather, he had intentionally dispersed the mana to show the Moonlight Sword hidden within. At the same time, the moonlight on the sword lunged toward Sien’s eyes like an arrow.
“!”
It was just light. It couldn’t cause any injury by itself. Even if it aimed for and pierced Sien’s pupils like an arrow, it would be the same. However, it was excessively brilliant and intense enough to block Sien’s vision.
Of course, he wasn’t an assassin of the Nightwalker family who would lose track of an opponent just because his eyes were closed. The problem was that the opponent was also a Nightwalker assassin—a family member standing at the peak of the Highmasters. Even if Sien focused his eyes, ears, and all five senses, he could lose the opponent in the 「blink of an eye」.
“I’m hit—!”
*Ssh.*
Before he knew it, the Nevermore in Yohan’s hand was pointed at Sien’s face. It was at a distance where a mere twitch of a few millimeters would touch Sien’s body. The freezing fear of death wrapped around his neck.
‘Even with this before her, Sister Gretel…’
At that fact, an indescribable emotional turmoil surged again.
“I’ll ask again, brat.”
Leaving Sien behind, Yohan asked again in a cold voice.
“What do you hate so much?”
It was the same question as before. Sien fell silent at that question. Everything that threatens my family. That was Sien’s first answer. But that wasn’t enough. After a short silence, Sien answered.
“The Emperor of the Holy Empire, Maximilian of the Habsburg family.”
“Yes, he’s a truly hateful fellow.”
Yohan burst into laughter and continued.
“But what did he do to make you hate him so much?”
“Because that man is someone who will take away everything from me,” Sien answered. It didn’t matter what the family member before him thought of that answer.
“Oslud the Sword Demon, Bar Muore the Magic King, and Wilhelmina Aquinas the Holy Mother of Death.”
The names of the powerhouses supporting the empire of this era in light and shadow. And Sien wasn’t finished.
Grand Duke Grandel the Sword Saint and the seven Imperial Knight Commanders. Marquis Bar Muore the Great Sage and the five Imperial Tower Masters. Twelve High Inquisitors including Cardinal Aquinas, and eight Holy Legion Commanders. He counted the names of those who would follow them and become the blades protecting the future empire.
Sien Nightwalker’s blacklist of those he had to kill.
“Correct.”
Yohan burst into laughter.
“No matter how much you loathe and hate the world, nothing changes. Hatred isn’t a breeze.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a spear that stabs someone to death.”
Like the ‘Spear of Destiny’ once hidden in Sien’s bosom.
“Your hatred is not lacking. No, if anything, it’s too much.”
“Then…”
“But no matter how much you hate the world, it’s not like you can stab the entire world with the tip of a spear.”
He thought about bringing down the empire. He hated this world and the fate that threatened his family. Sien had been thinking wrong from the start. Even if he hated the world or the country, he couldn’t stab them all to death with a spear. No matter how powerful the malice was, a spear had no meaning unless it stabbed directly.
Only then did he realize. The blade of pain Gretel had shown him, the end of Gretel that pain had revealed to Sien—at that moment, what Sien hated wasn’t something grand like the empire or the world.
—It was the one person right in front of him.
Rather, he had forgotten because he was carrying too many burdens and had to deal with an unmeasurable number of enemies. At any time, at any moment, the enemy to be killed was only the one in front of him. At the same time, those individuals gathered to form the hated world. They were the world, and killing them one by one was the way to kill the world.
*Whoosh!*
The mana inside his body surged, once again harboring a light filled with hatred and malice.
“The Sword of the End, Nevermore.”
Nevermore.
He gripped the malice-filled sword once more and recalled the ‘last name’ on his hit list. The name of the man that no one in the family could dare imagine, and even the future Sien would have been shocked to accept.
The founder of the Nightwalker family, who led the ancient assassin cult hundreds of years ago under the name ‘Hasan Sabakh’ in the Eastern Continent. The Nightfather and the first Nightwalker.
Kassan Nightwalker.