Chapter 2
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Chapter 2
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Echinacea Loaz was a prodigy beyond compare.
To be more precise, she possessed a level of talent in both swordsmanship and mana affinity that appeared only once per century—if that.
Yet she had lived twenty years without knowing she was a genius. Echinacea was a delicately raised noblewoman, the sole daughter of a count's house, who had never once held a sword.
'I wish I had never found out.'
That was what I thought.
The sensation of congealed blood clinging to my entire body was horrific. A feeling I could never have imagined before turning twenty—one I had become all too familiar with now.
'I never wanted to discover my genius this way.'
I stared blankly ahead. Or rather, I was made to stare ahead. My body no longer obeyed my will. I had surrendered my flesh to the demonic blade I gripped in my right hand.
A blade transparent as glass, forged from human malice. A hilt black as pitch, wrought from human wickedness.
The aura emanating from that sword had stained my right arm black, and scattered dark marks across my pale skin. My pink hair—the very reason I bore the name Echinacea—and the violet eyes I had inherited from my father, all were now tainted by the malevolent darkness of the blade.
Bulging veins across my body, bloodshot eyes, blood and dust matted into my hair—my appearance was utterly ruined. Even those who knew me well would struggle to recognize me as Echinacea Loaz now.
I was the only daughter of an imperial count's house, with a younger brother to inherit the title. My family was not particularly influential, yet quite wealthy with a long and distinguished history. There were no scandals of illegitimacy or infidelity. My brother and I got along well, and our parents' marriage was harmonious. All they wished for me was a good marriage and a happy life.
I had harbored no great discontent with my circumstances. I cultivated my beauty with marriage as my goal and learned appropriate refinement. I loved beautiful things and despised exertion that left me sweating. I found crude language vulgar and had cultivated a dignified bearing. I was lazy by nature and disliked anything unbecoming of nobility.
That was true until I turned twenty.
Bardelgiosa—the demonic blade.
That was the name of the sword I held, the reason I discovered my genius, and the culprit that had completely overturned my life and wrought tragedy.
Bardelgiosa seizes the body of its wielder. Then it uses that body to commit slaughter and destruction. There had been several such massacres, and because of them, Bardelgiosa had earned the epithet "demonic blade."
The power of the demonic blade was tremendous. Even a person with no talent for the sword could, once possessed by the blade, match Masters—those who channel mana through their weapons to unleash sword techniques.
Yet the demonic blade's power could only be exercised through its host's body, and thus it had clear limitations. Ultimately, when the body could no longer endure and began to break down, the blade lost its host. The blade itself seemed aware of this; whenever those of overwhelming strength approached or the host began to deteriorate, it would flee and hide.
But the demonic blade that had obtained Echinacea's body was different.
'How is this possible? Why can no one stop me?'
An absurdly high mana affinity sustained my body as it threatened to collapse under the blade's power. Despite having undergone no training whatsoever, my innate physique, once saturated with mana, instantly optimized itself for the swordsmanship the demonic blade wielded.
The result was utterly, absolutely catastrophic. I was forced to experience the full extent of my own strength.
Renowned mercenaries, the captain of the royal guard, the court's chief mage, and even my own family—all fell before the blade. Everyone collapsed before me. So easily. Devastatingly simple.
'There was no need to be a genius to this degree.'
I thought this not with arrogance, but with complete sincerity. To discover such talent only through the deaths of countless people, including those most precious to me. If I had not been a genius, I would never have reached this point. Such talent was unnecessary. It would have been better to live forever without ever knowing it existed.
Despite my desire to weep, my face wore a smile. Thanks to the dust, blood, and filth matted into my hair and clinging to my face, few would ever witness that smile. I, who once bathed twice daily, had become numb to filth.
Corpses surrounded me on all sides. I kicked at one—I could not tell whose neck it was—and walked forward. There was no destination. The demonic blade simply sought out its next prey.
Then a group of knights blocked my path.
Pure white uniforms too conspicuous for practical combat, blue cloaks, and upon their chests a golden eagle with four spread wings within a white shield—their emblem.
Though I had been ignorant of the world of knights as a noble lady, even I recognized those who bore such an emblem and wore white uniforms. The strongest, most renowned order of knights on the continent. Those who belonged to no single nation. The Changtian Knights. Those were unmistakably the eagles of Changtian.
Three men and one woman. One of the men stepped forward toward me.
"One stained by the demonic blade."
It was a man with long silver hair loosely bound and draped over his shoulders. He regarded me with eyes as blue as the sky itself, matching the name of his order. I knew who this man was.
'Yurien de Harden Kirie.'
The third prince of the Kirie Empire to which I belonged, who had renounced his claim to the throne early and joined the Changtian Knights, becoming their youngest commander.
The Changtian Knights belong to no nation. Therefore, strictly speaking, Yurien was no longer royalty or even a subject of the empire, but the world does not divide itself so cleanly.
The people of the empire took pride in their prince being the commander of the Changtian Knights. I too had considered it a source of pride. At the tea parties I attended, Yurien was frequently a topic of conversation.
I had seen him in person before. He had visited to celebrate my father's birthday at the Emperor's birthday banquet, which I also attended.
That day, I beheld a man far more beautiful than the rumors suggested, and I felt my cheeks flush in secret. Though I never danced with him even once, I was content to have seen the renowned Commander of the Changtian Knights with my own eyes. He was a man who lived in a world entirely different from mine.
I had imagined falling in love with the Commander of the Changtian Knights through a chance encounter, like something from a romantic novel. It was hardly unusual. Most noble daughters of the Empire had entertained such fantasies. Dreaming was free, and he was an attractive unmarried man, after all.
But I had never dreamed of meeting him like this. Corrupted by a cursed blade, encountering the Commander of the Changtian Knights who had mobilized to subjugate that very curse—I could never have imagined such a thing.
As he approached me, I felt an overwhelming pressure emanating from him. The sensation of a cold blade being leveled at me. Among these four, he was the strongest. It was only natural for the Commander of Changtian, who evaluated solely by merit, but seeing it with my own eyes made his power unmistakably clear. It was a perception sharpened by this accursed cursed blade.
"As a member of the Changtian Knights sworn to protect Giosa, I shall subjugate you."
Yurien de Harden Kirie spoke as though pronouncing judgment, raising his white sword high. It was Langios, the holy blade that was his very symbol. I did not answer. My body, without words, leveled the cursed blade Bardelgiosa against him. Kill. Kill. Kill. Malevolent echoes reverberated through my mind, consumed by the cursed blade.
I initiated the attack first. The pitch-black cursed blade and the white holy sword clashed.
I did not wish to win. I prayed that the Commander I had admired would triumph over wicked me.
'It's hopeless. I'm really uselessly strong.'
Three years had passed since the cursed blade consumed me. In that time, I had endured countless battles. The Empire, unwilling to turn to the Changtian Knights for aid, had sent many knights to subdue me. And I had slain them all. With each victory, I grew stronger. Not just my body, but my spirit as well.
Those experiences spoke clearly. Yurien would endure longer than anyone I had faced thus far, but ultimately, victory would be mine. I was simply too exceptional.
And Yurien had realized this truth as well. He deflected my blade and retreated several paces back.
"Remarkable. Truly a pity."
His blue eyes grew clouded.
"Had you been a knight... I would have crossed blades with you in earnest."
"Commander Yurien."
One of the three standing in wait clicked his tongue and called out to him. The man responded with a bitter smile.
"I know. This is not a duel but an extermination."
"Shall we join in?"
"Yes."
The remaining three knights drew their blades. They were all Giosa Owners—the strongest knights of the Changtian Knights.
What followed became far more intense. Four against one. To withstand their combined assault, the cursed blade drove my body to its absolute limits, wringing out every last drop of latent potential.
Yet no matter how exceptional a genius wielding a cursed blade might be, I could not overcome four Giosa Owners, including the Commander of Changtian. Fighting an army would have been easier.
I was finally defeated.
Yurien de Harden Kirie struck me down and pinned me, pressing his sword against my throat. Covered in wounds, I thrashed like a caged beast. Thanks to the mana instinctively wrapping around my neck, my throat remained uncut. As we remained locked in that position, the exhausted knights grumbled around us.
"Frighteningly strong, truly. To hold out against the four of us like this... I can scarcely believe it."
"You can't believe what's right before your eyes? Did you hurt your eyes, Teresa?"
"Shut up, Dietrich."
"You were told to speak only proper words befitting a knight... but Teresa does as she pleases. That's her charm, though."
"Dietrich Sarua. I said to be quiet."
"What a waste. As the Commander said, she would have been magnificent as a knight, yet such talent was squandered on a cursed blade."
The larger knight muttered, ignoring the two bickering knights. At those words, I wanted to protest. To wail, to cough blood, to scream.
'Did you think I wanted this? If I'd known it was a cursed blade, would I have been mad enough to grasp it? I, I, I simply—!'
"She would not have chosen to wield this willingly."
Yurien de Harden Kirie spoke. His breathing was ragged from pinning my thrashing form, yet his words remained clear and distinct.
...Those were the words I had wanted to cry out. Words no one had spoken before me as I wrought slaughter, or perhaps could not speak.
I stared up at him, my mind reeling. As my body glowed while I glared at him, I could observe him clearly. Just as I studied him, he gazed directly back at me.
In his eyes, I saw none of the fear, disgust, anger, resentment, or pain I had witnessed from others until now. A faint compassion dwelt there. His gaze was directed not at a mad demon wielding a cursed blade, but at the person within.
"You would not have wished to do such things."
In a voice so low that only she, pressed close against him, could hear, he spoke.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org