CHAPTER 642: CHAPTER 642 - COEXISTENCE

Chapter 642 - Coexistence

How many times had he faced that wretched sight already?

He had seen that thing’s body so many times that he could practically memorize the patterns carved into its flesh.

Not that he had the luxury to do so in the middle of battle.

If one wasn’t a genius, they had to struggle, clawing their way forward just to glimpse what those with talent could see naturally.

Enkrid knew that better than anyone.

And yet—just earlier today—despite not being a genius, he had managed to catch a glimpse of what they saw.

From behind Shinar’s chair, Enkrid fixed his gaze on the creature stepping forward—its feet and hands replaced by blades.

He registered every small movement, and as he did, time seemed to slow.

His thoughts accelerated.

The damp air of the labyrinth grew heavier, pressing against his skin with an almost unbearable discomfort.

He would have preferred to dull some of his senses, but that would make it impossible to face the One-Killer.

He needed every ounce of his intuition—there was no other choice.

That was why he simply endured the oppressive atmosphere.

Without resistance, without complaint.

After going through this so many times, it hardly even mattered anymore.

Within this stretched-out moment, the creature’s orange-hued body streaked toward him, carving long arcs through the air.

It almost looked as if a bladed being with legs was glowing in orange as it approached.

Considering the entire body of the demon One-Killer was a weapon, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Its form blurred, splitting into multiple afterimages before coalescing back into one as it closed in.

And at the precise moment when Enkrid saw the whole figure within his vision—

His lips curled.

A grin spread across his face.

"It’s a greeting."

His voice was crisp—almost lighthearted.

The black-haired, blue-eyed madman moved.

Luagarne and Fel missed his movements entirely, unable to even react.

The fairies, naturally, were no different.

Only Shinar was momentarily taken aback.

Enkrid stepped forward and brought his sword down in a vertical slash toward the One-Killer.

A simple arc, a seemingly direct and honest attack.

But—

’It’s different.’

Shinar saw it.

This wasn’t just a normal sword swing.

The blade of the Silver Blade curved unnaturally, refracting light as if it were bending space itself.

At the same time, the blade split into dozens, like petals unfolding into full bloom.

Of course, the sword itself hadn’t actually divided.

It wasn’t just his mind that had been honed through countless todays.

He hadn’t spent his time endlessly theorizing—he had been training.

Every desperate struggle had refined his skills to a new level.

This was the evolved form of his illusory blades.

Not just a trick of the eye, but a refined technique.

He wielded his killing intent as if slicing it into separate pieces, directing it at multiple points simultaneously.

If even a fraction of that could shake his opponent’s composure, then it was worth it.

Against an ordinary foe, it would have worked.

But the One-Killer was different.

A demon born of pure murderous intent, it moved and judged its actions with unparalleled decisiveness in combat.

It didn’t fall for tricks so easily.

Even in its erratic nature, it followed the most efficient trajectory possible—

Clang!

Enkrid’s Silver Blade struck the One-Killer’s orange blade, hacking against it in a forceful clash.

If the creature’s body itself was metal, then it was as if two massive hunks of steel had collided, sending a deep, shuddering impact through the ground.

Dust surged up around them as an invisible shockwave pushed back the oppressive air of the labyrinth for a fleeting moment.

"Isn’t this fun?"

Enkrid stepped back, flicking his sword through the air.

His entire body vibrated from the force of the last exchange.

That single blow had been heavy enough to rattle his very insides.

He had poured that much power into it.

Spreading his Will throughout his body was second nature now—he had done it over five hundred times in his countless todays.

And while he hadn’t meant to, elements of Heart of the Beast and Giant Slayer had naturally bled into his attack.

Repeating today over and over had ingrained the habit of weaving techniques together.

That was why Shinar had noticed something different.

If the false blades were merely a minor trick to disrupt an opponent’s mind, the true strike had been a perfectly weighted, forceful blow.

Deception and reality were intertwined.

From the outside, it looked as if the illusory blades were the main attack.

But the true core of the strike was the descending sword.

Shaking an opponent’s composure was merely a secondary effect.

It was an attack that combined illusion and substance seamlessly.

And Shinar wasn’t the only one surprised by the outcome.

Crack.

Snap.

A grinding noise echoed as the One-Killer’s bones twisted unnaturally, shifting its legs into a new form.

Its arms stretched longer as well.

’Well, at least it acknowledged the greeting.’

If nothing else, its response made one thing clear:

It was taking this fight seriously now.

"I’m having fun. You’re not?"

Enkrid taunted.

The One-Killer, of course, gave no answer.

It had no mouth.

"That thing lacks vocal cords," Shinar said flatly.

"It has no will of its own."

"I know."

Enkrid knew it better than anyone.

But even without words, actions conveyed intent clearly enough.

Just like now.

Its shifting limbs signified its readiness to fight in earnest.

Enkrid understood it as such.

Watching its transformation, he adjusted his stance.

His footwork shifted slightly, and he lowered the tip of his blade—

Not an act of submission, but a calculated maneuver to gain an advantage in the battle of positioning.

The One-Killer reacted instantly.

Boom!

It launched itself forward, propelling through the air.

Even with time stretched in his mind, it reached him in a blink.

Its legs, bent at unnatural angles, powered its charge.

Faster than the rock fragments it had kicked up—

Faster than Enkrid could draw breath—

A curved streak of orange light came slashing down.

A grim reaper’s blade, splitting into dozens as it rained down toward his head.

Enkrid spread his arms—gripping his sword in both hands.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Here, thought had to be divided.

A fragmented mind was necessary.

At first, he had tried to fight as the One-Killer did, splitting his focus into dozens of calculations.

He had fought while analyzing—analyzed while fighting.

And for that, his nose bled faster than his thoughts could keep up.

As if it knew, the creature became even more unpredictable, pushing him further.

Trying to calculate everything at once?

It made his head spin.

But he endured.

Because giving up had never been an option.

And in the end, failure led to realization.

Of course, it hadn’t been achieved in just one today.

’I don’t need to split into dozens.’

It hadn’t been immediate, but with each repetition, he became more proficient.

’Focus on the flow in the long term. On the moment in the short term.’

He had foolishly labeled it High-Speed Thought and Thought Division, but definitions weren’t what mattered.

’Wavebreaker Sword is a technique for prolonged combat.’

Not about overwhelming force—

But endurance.

Not about finishing quickly—

But outlasting.

And when the One-Killer pushed its speed to the absolute limit—he had died.

’I lacked the ability to see the whole flow.’

That was when his insight sharpened.

’Sustainability and explosiveness—neither is the answer alone. The key is coexistence.’

To balance both.

And that—

That was what he had been forging through these countless todays.

He began three-dimensional maneuvers at terrifying speed, swinging his arms.

What had previously been a concentrated barrage of meteors from the front now targeted every part of his body—his head, neck, arms, legs, back, and thighs.

The attacks no longer came from a single direction but from all around, engulfing him in a sphere of danger.

’Footwork alone won’t be enough to keep up.’

He only needed to move as much as necessary at the precise moment required.

His accelerated thought process found the answer and relayed it to his combat instincts—not that there was an actual process of transmission.

Everything happened simultaneously.

Then, an odd thought seeped into the corner of his mind.

The oppressive pressure of the demonic realm weighed down on his shoulders, and the dense air, the smells—everything about this place was unpleasant.

’Sunlight.’

Blocking one attack after another, Enkrid found himself longing to see the sunlight.

He wanted to feel the cool breeze against his skin.

The fairy city always carried the scent of grass, and the air was thick with the fragrance of flowers.

’It’s a good place.’

Just picturing the warmth of the sun and the gentle wind momentarily lifted the weight pressing down on him.

Thanks to his divided thought process, he had the leeway to do this.

Will was the embodiment of intent, a force rising from within that influenced the body.

His arms and legs felt lighter.

One part of his mind recognized this; another part immediately implemented it.

Each division of his thought process carried out its role seamlessly.

The One-Killer’s attacks were fierce and razor-sharp.

To an outside observer, it might have looked as though Enkrid was barely managing to defend himself.

But in truth, it was a spectacle.

"You’re doing something absurd."

Shinar muttered, astonished.

And she wasn’t the only one surprised.

Again and again, Enkrid deflected the demonic entity’s deadly strikes.

Each of the One-Killer’s fatal attacks was nullified, its lethal reach rendered meaningless.

Time passed.

Enkrid neither lost himself nor ignored reality—he remained firmly in the ’present.’

Wavebreaker, the sword that blocked the tides, repelled every single one of the One-Killer’s attacks.

At one point, the demon attempted to target Fel, but it was futile.

Enkrid had been waiting for that moment, striking the demon’s blade-like arm away without hesitation.

Defense wasn’t merely about standing in place, raising a sword like a shield.

Attack was also a form of defense.

This was a basic principle, one he had learned even before becoming the troublesome squad’s captain.

Learning it meant applying it naturally.

And so, the day passed.

Ta-dang!

Ta-da-da-da-dang!

He had spent an entire day blocking attacks.

The balance between explosive offense and sustained defense—his sword endured, neither killing the One-Killer nor falling to it.

’Ah...’

Throughout the battle, Enkrid had found himself intoxicated with exhilaration multiple times.

"To create your own swordsmanship is to open an entire world."

He had heard those words once.

At the time, they had seemed nothing more than passing remarks.

Neither the speaker nor Enkrid himself had been in any position to grasp their true meaning.

The one who said them had merely been a sword instructor from a small town, likely nothing more than a low-ranking mercenary at best.

So surely, when he spoke of swordsmanship, he wasn’t referring to the refined techniques of knights.

And yet, now, Enkrid recalled those words, and they resonated deeply.

After enduring for an entire day, Enkrid began incorporating meaningless movements into his Wavebreaker technique.

He suddenly lifted his left foot and wobbled, stuck out his tongue, or spun in place for no reason.

Blocking alone wouldn’t end the fight.

So he had found another way.

The One-Killer was a demon that had lost its reasoning yet continued to operate through pure combat logic.

Because of that, even senseless actions would be interpreted as meaningful.

This would overload its computational processes.

He had tested this multiple times before and knew it worked.

’An opening.’

He swung his sword at the gap that appeared.

Fwick!

A piece of the demon’s forearm was sliced off.

It wasn’t a deep wound—just a sliver of flesh, barely the size of a fingernail.

Black blood spattered slightly, and in the next instant, an orange glow stretched over the wound, sealing it shut.

But that was only the beginning.

To sever its neck or limbs, he would have to abandon Wavebreaker momentarily, leaving himself vulnerable to the One-Killer’s strikes.

If Wavebreaker was a shield, then all he needed to do was expand its range.

By splitting his thoughts further, he incorporated additional tricks.

In a way, he was blending his own style into the structured form of Wavebreaker.

From mastering the technique to applying it creatively, all of this had happened within a single day.

"A genius..."

Fel, who had glimpsed a fraction of this process through raw talent, murmured.

"No, he’s more than just a genius."

He let out a sigh of admiration.

But it was a misunderstanding.

This wasn’t a feat of mere talent—it was the result of countless yesterdays stacked upon one another, accumulated through relentless effort.

The demon’s limbs were being sliced away, its flesh exposed, and the patches of orange glow on its body increasing.

The demon was dying.

Or rather, it was being dismantled, piece by piece.

He had endured for an entire day.

For an ordinary person, this was enough time to fall asleep on their feet.

By the second day, he had continued fighting without rest, without sleep.

Dividing his thought processes reduced the strain on his body.

Alongside his accelerated cognition, he channeled Will, pushing his body beyond its limits without overstraining himself.

This was the result.

The being that had neither a mouth nor vocal cords could not speak.

Instead, its severed limbs—hands, arms, legs, ankles, toes, fingers—lay scattered, a silent admission of its defeat.

This hadn’t been a fight won with a dramatic, single finishing blow.

Enkrid knew that.

But to the onlookers, it would appear as if he had simply endured, peeling away layer after layer of flesh until he had sliced the demon apart.

That was all.

The One-Killer lay on the ground.

Enkrid had won.

"...Now, all that’s left is the marriage ceremony."

Shinar remarked.

"I told you, that’s not happening."

Enkrid immediately retorted, his gaze fixed on the fairy.

***

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