The Villain Carries the Holy Sword – Chapter 156

Chapter 156: Operation Abel (2)

The ‘Knight of the Bucket’ looked ridiculous.

Shhhhwink—

But his swordsmanship was no laughing matter. Facing the sword containing the life of the man named Edmund, Abel held his breath.

“I thought Cain would be the one coming.”

Between Abel’s breaths.

Deliberately avoiding the rhythm of his beating heart and rushing blood, Edmund thrust his sword.

“But for some reason, he decided to sit this one out. He may be my son, but sometimes I feel like he’s the more mature one. Something must be going on.”

If you combined Cain’s age before and after the regression, he would be older than Edmund.

His intuition wasn’t wrong.

“He tries to solve everything on his own, doesn’t he?”

“I……agree.”

Edmund didn’t even give him time to answer after asking.

Abel forcefully deflected his sword and widened the distance between them as he replied.

Smirk—

As if pleased by Abel’s quick reaction, Edmund sent a sharp blade and calm words together.

“But you are also my son.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Swish—

Edmund stepped back at Abel’s answer.

He scanned Abel as if looking at something strange and then smiled bitterly.

“Cain must have told you.”

“He told me as soon as I came back after seeing you, Father.”

“I thought he would keep it a secret from you.”

Abel glanced up at the VIP seats for a moment.

Cain’s seat was still empty even though the third match for the throne was taking place.

Abel turned his back on Cain’s empty seat.

Grip—

He gripped his sword once more and pointed it at Edmund.

“He said there was nothing to say. After all, we are brothers.”

“‘After all’ and ‘we’……”

Edmund rolled those two words around in his mouth several times.

Cain and Abel’s brotherhood was better than he thought. Or perhaps his son, who had changed so much while he was gone, had grown enough to embrace it.

“You’ve learned.”

“Yes. And I’m rather glad you told me straight away.”

“Glad……?”

Edmund tilted his head.

Step—

Despite the calm conversation and ordinary reactions, the two slowly moved in a circle.

Because, unlike their mouths, their eyes were fiercely scanning for each other’s weaknesses.

“There was something like that.”

This wasn’t the place to talk about Commons and Golden Dawn.

Abel glossed over it appropriately.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Edmund nodded his head obediently.

He was an adult who knew that if there was something he needed to hear, he would hear it eventually, and if not, then he wouldn’t.

“Yes.”

Step—

Abel stopped walking.

He spread his legs front and back and bent only his back knee. He held the sword horizontally at his chest, its tip aimed at Edmund’s heart.

“Please take me to the next level.”

“……Though one can’t simply divide the level of swordsmanship like cutting a cake, your level is currently between Expert high and peak.”

Edmund felt Abel was a genius and a superhuman.

He himself was considered one of the best geniuses in Airian, and he was on par with the growth of the Empire’s Knight Duke or the Holy See’s Master Paladin, but…

He was no match for Abel.

If he, at fifteen, fought the current Abel, nine times out of ten, Abel would be victorious.

“It’s a level you can’t reach with someone’s teaching.”

“I know. That’s why you aimed for my life.”

“……Indeed.”

Edmund smiled bitterly.

This is why he deliberately said he would kill his son like a spell.

Because they were all standing at the edge of a cliff where they couldn’t grow unless their lives were at stake.

Beyond the cliff was either a bottomless abyss or a new sky. That was the ‘wall’ that master swordsmen spoke of.

And Abel was standing at the edge of the ‘wall’s’ cliff.

“Kill me.”

Abel’s eyes were sparkling brightly.

They weren’t eyes that wished for death.

“Help me move on to the next level, Father.”

The eyes that wished for the other side of the ‘wall’.

The eyes of a child who wanted to share the burden of Cain, who was walking alone beyond!

Swish—

Edmund raised his sword.

A bitter smile formed on his face.

“You only call me Father at times like this.”

“I’m just calling Father, Father.”

“Maybe in terms of role, but I feel like the real one is Cain.”

Cain Ethelred.

The older brother who drew in and embraced Abel, who knew nothing.

The father who showed Abel which path to take and illuminated his future.

The weight of wielding a sword and family.

The great teacher who taught him all that.

To Abel, Cain was all of that, and Edmund knew it.

From the moment he felt Cain’s footsteps in Abel’s swordsmanship when he killed Glumiêm in the northern forest.

“Nevertheless, I ask you.”

“……Alright.”

Edmund spread his legs shoulder-width apart. Then, he raised his sword vertically as if making a knight’s oath.

“I am Edmund, the rightful heir of ‘Ethelred’.”

Abel relaxed his posture for a moment.

Then, he answered with the same formality as Edmund.

“I am Abel, the younger brother of Cain Ethelred.”

Whooosh—

The wind blew.

The thoughts of the outcome of this fight and the bait that were in the minds of the two knights were swept away.

—Ah! The two who were fighting fiercely are suddenly greeting each other! It seems like this is the level of skill it takes to exchange greetings.

Baron Moliot’s commentary.

The cheers of the watching audience.

Somewhere within them, the Apostle of Commons was watching with gleaming eyes.

Swish—

None of that mattered.

The two Ethelreds, like mirrors facing each other, stepped forward with their left foot and raised their swords to their chests.

Sound disappeared.

Space blurred.

In a space where only the two of them were left in this world.

Edmund opened his mouth.

“Ardvark’s Final Form ‘Claíomh Solais’ is the ultimate refinement of the first move, ‘Lu Rabada’.”

Ardvark, the swordsmanship of thrusting.

“I don’t know where he learned it, but Cain always used a slashing sword. It must be difficult for you, who mainly uses thrusting, to directly learn from him.”

That’s why he needed Edmund, who also mainly used thrusting.

The opponents Cain mainly faced were the Great Wall monsters with immense regenerative abilities and size.

In that land, it was more efficient to slash and cut them down with a swing than to inflict damage with a thrust.

Naturally, Cain came to mainly use slashing swordsmanship.

“I will teach you thrusting.”

Edmund closed his eyes for a moment.

And when he opened them again.

Wooong—!

A chilling coldness that promised to kill his opponent emanated from him.

As if all the attacks until now were just practice.

As if Edmund’s awkward appearance until now was all an act.

Engulfed in a tangible blue killing intent, Edmund was the Grim Reaper, reaping lives with his presence alone.

“Please do.”

Abel smiled at the tingling killing intent.

This moment.

The moment he had been longing for.

The moment to leap over the cliff called ‘wall’ and move on to the next level!

Edmund’s gaze, sparkling with a deep blue killing intent, pierced Abel’s heart.

Ardvark.

Final Form.

Claíomh Solais.

Hwaaaaaaaa—

Golden aura began to flow out from Edmund like waves.

As if the distance between them meant nothing, his sword, clad in the brilliant aura of a Sword Master, aimed for Abel’s heart.

Thump—

In this crisis.

At this moment when his life was at stake.

Thump, thump—

Abel smiled.

Only in the face of danger did he realize what it meant to be alive.

Battle instinct.

The talent that Cain named awakened.

It broke down the split second into thousands, tens of thousands of moments, reading Edmund’s ‘Claíomh Solais’.

No matter how high its level.

Before infinite talent, it was but a mere flicker.

Abel-style Ardvark.

Claíomh Solais.

Abel’s sword started late.

His aura, the color of autumn like his eyes, enveloped the sword, and he thrust it forward, meeting Edmund’s attack head-on.

Swish.

But it was wrong.

Edmund’s sword positioned itself inside Abel’s thrust and deflected his Claíomh Solais outwards.

—Foolish child.

Edmund’s gaze conveyed his heart.

—To use the swordsmanship you’re least familiar with at the most crucial moment.

……!

—Farewell, my son.

No matter how great his instincts and talent, what was engraved in his body was the sword he had diligently trained in until now.

If it were an ordinary opponent, he would have overwhelmed them just now.

But Edmund was also a genius.

To think he could instantly replicate a sword that a genius had honed through ceaseless training was arrogance!

Abel squeezed his eyes shut.

It was a blunder.

He was foolish.

He was arrogant because everything had gone too well until now.

—It’s not too late.

At that moment, a familiar voice reached Abel’s ears.

—If you give up, it’s over right then and there, but if you don’t give up, it’s not over until it’s over.

Cain’s voice.

Beyond Abel’s gaze.

Cain, with his black hair and violet eyes always sparkling, was watching with his arms crossed.

—Is this all you’ve got? I don’t think so.

Edmund’s sword was right before him, the culmination of his murderous intent aiming to pierce his heart.

—Show me, Abel.

Thud—

Abel’s feet moved.

The moment his mind made up its mind, his feet touched the ground and his body spun.

En Zauer.

Abel realized that it was a grave mistake to think he could face Edmund with a single sword.

What made him was time.

Ardvark.

Lu Rabada.

Starting from the mercenary’s sword he learned first, the beam extended.

Lu Delbach.

One by one.

Lo Meyer.

He unleashed the swords of those who filled his life.

The biggest part of his life.

The broad back he saw in the distance.

The black-haired warrior who answered with actions, not words.

The ruler of the snowy fields.

Cain.

His sword, which Abel engraved even in his soul and constantly strived to follow.

The strongest sword that would stand to the left of the word ‘invincible’ if it existed in this world!

‘God, have mercy on us.’

Abel-style Dark Sky.

Cross Strike.

Kyrie Eleison.

Kwagaraaaaaaaa—!

Edmund’s sword was pushed back.

Edmund smiled as Abel unfolded his sword, transcending the constraints of time.

“You’ve found it, your sword.”

Clang—

Edmund’s sword was cut in half.

And Abel, brushing his hair back just like someone, replied.

“Yes. Thrusting or slashing can’t define me. My sword is my life.”

“Good, very good.”

Edmund smiled broadly.

Abel felt it.

At this moment, he had overcome the ‘wall’.

His hand had reached the world beyond it.

However.

“Haven’t you learned? An Ethelred’s sword always strikes twice.”

“…!”

Ardvark.

True Final Form.

Ard Rí.

The sword reversed in an instant.

If the first Claíomh Solais was a sword that was above all else precise and righteous, the second sword that extended was a dark sword.

The ultimate deadly sword that struck from a blind spot the opponent couldn’t perceive!

Abel, who had already unleashed everything he had, could only widen his eyes.

His death was approaching.

Thump—

His heart pounded.

As if it was screaming for someone to help him, saying he wanted to live.

Kugugugug—

Golden Dawn, appearing from somewhere, grabbed Edmund’s sword with one hand.

“Great Sun whom we shall not name, I greet you.”

He bowed his head to Abel.

Abel’s operation was a success.

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