Chapter 85: The Demonic Sword’s Emergence (3)

All eyes turned to Karnak. Though no one voiced their doubt, it was a clear demand for an explanation.

“What are you all looking at me for?” Karnak said, frowning. “Does it look like I did anything just now?”

Ziken awkwardly averted his gaze, muttering, “We-well, no...”

Karnak truly hadn’t done anything. He didn’t even finish his incantation.

“I was just throwing a wild guess because of the absurdity of the situation,” Ziken muttered.

Triv and Harris chimed in with their own theories.

“Maybe it was just a coincidence?”

“It seems like Sir Karnak joined at just the right moment by chance.”

Their suspicions quickly dissipated. After all, there was no real evidence to doubt him. Of course, this was only true for those unaware of Karnak’s history. Varos and Serati, who knew him better, weren’t so easily convinced.

—Now, now. Young master.

—Alright, spill it.

—What did you

really

do?

—If you had a trick like that, why didn’t you warn us beforehand?

—I told you! I didn’t do anything!

Yet, despite his protests, he didn’t seem particularly indignant about the accusations. In truth, Karnak himself found the situation unsettling. A mysterious demonic sword had fled at the sight of the Monarch of Death, hadn’t it? It was too strange to dismiss as mere coincidence.

Damn it, what did I do? Even I think it’s suspicious.

***

The demonic sword’s host had fled, slipping through their encirclement as though it had never been there. But Ziken didn’t blame the King’s Order members for the escape. He couldn’t. Who could he blame? After all, he had been caught off guard himself.

“Good grief. I never imagined it would actually run away....”

For a demonic sword to even have the thought of fleeing was nothing short of bizarre. Such artifacts were designed to transform their hosts into berserkers. Could it retreat if it were in a disadvantageous position? No. In fact, the concept of being disadvantaged couldn’t exist.

In earlier encounters, reports described the sword fleeing after exhausting itself in a slaughter, but Ziken had suspected it was more a matter of satisfaction than exhaustion—a predator retreating after gorging itself.

Regardless, the team was back to square one. They needed to track the demonic sword again. Meiri and Milia stepped forward to begin the search.

As they scanned for lingering traces of dark energy, Meiri suddenly paused. “Hmm?”

Her expression darkened.

“What’s wrong?” Ziken asked her.

“The pattern has changed.”

The sword was no longer leaving a trail of dark energy behind. Instead, its traces were intermittent and increasingly faint. An hour later, after scouring the forest with no success, Meiri let out a frustrated sigh and raised her hands in defeat.

“We’ve lost it. The trail has completely vanished.”

Harris turned to Ziken, his expression uncertain. “What’s our next move, captain?”

***

They pressed on for a while longer, but the trail remained cold. They couldn’t find a trace of the demonic sword. As the sun began to set, shadows deepened across the forest. The underbrush and trees disappeared into the encroaching darkness.

Ziken made the call. “We’ll withdraw for now and reassess.”

They had brought camping supplies, but with the target lost, there was no reason to spend the night in the forest. Furthermore, with the demonic sword unaccounted for, the possibility of an ambush couldn’t be ignored.

“In this situation, retreating to a secure location for rest and preparation is the wisest course.”

The nearest town was Achenbart City, and the combined force of the 1st and 7th Squads headed there. Though they numbered over forty, securing lodging was no issue. The sword’s rampage had halted trade for merchants, leaving Achenbart’s inns virtually empty.

Once accommodations were arranged, Ziken addressed the group. “You’re free to rest for the evening. Drinking is permitted, but don’t overdo it.”

The hunt would have to start anew in the morning, and with the prospect of days of grueling pursuit ahead, a night of relaxation seemed prudent. With the order given, the group dispersed. Karnak and his companions also retired to their room.

As usual, Karnak, Varos, Serati, and Milia shared a space. Exhausted from the day’s search, Milia fell asleep almost immediately. Meanwhile, Serati—having done little that demanded rest—unpacked her belongings and wandered into Karnak’s room.

Inside, she found Karnak and Varos still debating the earlier incident.

“What do you think really happened, Master?” Varos asked, his tone uncertain. “Surely it wasn’t just a coincidence?”

“I have no idea,” Karnak admitted, frowning. “It’s hard to call it a coincidence when I’ve committed my fair share of sins.”

Serati perched herself on the edge of the bed, joining the discussion. “Do you really have no idea, Sir Karnak? No hunch at all?”

Varos answered in Karnak’s stead. “Honestly, it’s not impossible.”

There was an old saying: When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you.

“Maybe the spirit haunting the demonic sword had a meltdown after seeing you, young master.”

“Why am I the abyss in this scenario?!” Karnak shot him a glare, clearly offended.

Still, he couldn’t completely dismiss the theory—it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

“Am I really the abyss?” Karnak wondered after a brief pause.

It wasn’t entirely baseless speculation. After all, what was a demonic sword? A weapon possessed by an evil spirit, luring its wielder into madness and wreaking havoc. In the simplest terms, it was a haunted sword. It was haunted by a spirit

not

in the greatest of conditions. What if that spirit saw the

king

of spirits and panicked?

“When you put it like that... it does kind of make sense,” Karnak muttered under his breath but shook his head quickly. “No, that’s still weird.”

He wasn’t the Monarch of Death he once was. Even the most infamous tyrant wouldn’t terrify someone on sight if they were stripped of power and wandering in rags.

“How could it know to be afraid if it doesn’t know who I am? The idea that a demonic sword’s spirit could peer through time and space into my past is even more absurd.”

After a long moment of contemplation, Karnak ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated groan.

“Ugh, I don’t know.”

There simply wasn’t enough information. Until they captured the demonic sword for study, there was no way to uncover the truth.

“I’m starving. Let’s eat,” Karnak said.

Varos immediately perked up. “Right this way. I found a decent tavern nearby. The innkeeper recommended it.”

“They said the food’s good?”

“Best lamb dishes in town, apparently. The special sauce is supposed to be phenomenal.”

“Ooh, let’s go.”

Karnak and Varos were already licking their lips as they discussed the menu.

Watching them, Serati sighed in exasperation. “You two always prioritize food, don’t you?”

To be fair, given why these two turned back time, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

“And what about you, Serati? Not coming?”

As if she would ever turn down good food.

“Of course I’m coming.”

Karnak grinned as he rose from his seat.

“Then let’s keep talking over dinner. In the end, we eat to live and live to eat, right?”

It was a common enough saying, but for Karnak, there was no clearer purpose to his existence.

***

Unlike the eerily quiet inns, the taverns were bustling as evening fell. Inns primarily served travelers, but taverns were the domain of locals. And despite the notoriety of the demonic sword, no one expected it to appear in the heart of the city.

And it wasn’t simply because it couldn’t. Rather, there wasn’t any reason for it to. A demonic sword was like a wild beast freshly roused from hibernation. Its spirit was perpetually starving and insatiable. Such a weapon couldn’t pass by potential prey without attacking. It would end up rampaging at the outskirts before arriving at the city center.

In reality, the demonic sword had only approached the city walls, massacring at the outskirts before vanishing. Inside the city, life carried on relatively unbothered, and the taverns thrived. Even the King’s Order, dispersed in small groups, indulged in the opportunity to relax.

Among them were Wallace and Beric from the 7th Squad, sharing a table and a bottle of blackberry brandy.

“What do you think that was all about?” Wallace asked Beric.

“No idea,” Beric replied. “But is it really that strange?”

The demonic sword’s sudden retreat had puzzled them, but not to the same extent as it had the 1st Squad. After all, the 7th Squad were used to Karnak’s eccentricities.

“Our captain’s always been a bit of an enigma, hasn’t he?”

“And Sir Varos is just as baffling. How is he that strong when he’s not even an aura user?”

“Right? He doesn’t seem especially fast, but before you know it, you’re already beaten.”

A fang in a pocket was bound to poke a hole. No matter how carefully Karnak and Varos tried to conceal their abilities, most of the 7th Squad had noticed something was off. Serati was perhaps the only exception. There was nothing extraordinary about her abilities as an aura user. However, for her to be such a striking beauty and still excel as an aura user was remarkable in itself. Then again, even she was strange in her own way.

“Don’t you think they’re a bit funny?”

“What about them?”

“How they suddenly clammed up and just stared daggers at each other.”

“Oh, I saw that too. Seriously, what were they even doing?”

With that, the two merrily downed their drinks and filled their stomachs with snacks. Tomorrow, they’d be back on the dangerous trail of their pursuit. The only time they could drink and relax was now.

“We’ve had quite a bit.”

“Shall we head back?”

“Yeah, we should call it a night. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

In a pleasantly tipsy state, Wallace and Beric stepped out of the tavern. The late autumn wind, sharp as a blade, cut around the corners and brushed against their skin. As they left the alley, they entered a closed marketplace. All the merchants had long since packed up and left, leaving the area eerily devoid of life.

And there she stood. A small girl with ashen hair matted with grime, and in her hands, a bizarrely oversized two-handed sword.

Beric’s expression went blank. “Huh?”

It was a familiar face and a familiar sword. There was no mistaking it. He had seen them just this morning. But it made no sense. No chaos had broken out, no screams had pierced the air.

How could something like

that

appear here, in the heart of the city? The smile on the girl’s lips grew more pronounced as she tightened her grip on the demonic sword. A faint chuckle escaped her lips.

And then, the mocking laughter dissolved into twin streams of screams.

***

In the dead of night, under the dim moonlight, Ziken let out a deep sigh.

“Good grief...”

Triv and Harris echoed his tone, their voices grim.

“How could this happen...”

“In the middle of the city, no less...”

It happened three or four hours ago. With the night deepening, they conducted their usual headcount before turning in. The 1st Squad was accounted for. All of them had returned to their quarters. But two members of the 7th Squad were missing. It was a disgraceful situation for the 7th Squad, especially for Serati, one of their leaders.

“They’re probably drunk out of their minds somewhere!”

For the record, Karnak and Varos weren’t particularly concerned. Neither of them was the type to feel embarrassment. But Serati, with her firm sense of responsibility, was fuming. She immediately went out to search for the missing men.

And that was when they found them. In the middle of the street lay the shriveled corpses of Wallace and Beric. Everyone stared at the bodies in shock, even Karnak, who rarely showed emotion.

Wow, even I’m a bit shocked by this.