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Chapter 257: The Grave of Swords (5)

It\'s Baskerville\'s old style.

If there is such a division in the Swordmaster, just as there is a division in the Expert and Graduator... then this is a swordsmanship that can only be cast by beings of the Swordmaster rank.

Nine teeth, each driving, grasping, tearing, cutting, slicing, dismembering, crushing, mincing, and crushing, devouring the entire world.

It was greater and more destructive than any swordsmanship in the world.

It seemed impossible for the \'predator\'s murderous intent\' to cut beneath the skin more vividly than this.

Even Vikir, a veteran of the Age of Destruction, had never experienced it before.

\'There is a being in this world who can wield a sword like this, even among humans!\'

Vikir marveled as a swordsman, a seeker walking the same path.

It was something that exploded purely, regardless of the distinction between blood and blood.

But I can\'t just sit back and admire.

Even now, CaneCorso\'s 9th Baskerville was rushing toward him, slicing through seconds and minutes.

In the midst of this impending storm of swords, Vikir unleashed the most power he could muster.

Baskerville 7th Form.

After abandoning emotions and ascending to the 6th form, he reached the highest level with his regained emotions after going through many struggles.

Vikir flicked the tip of his sword to form 7 teeth, which he used against the 9 teeth in front of him.

The Hound of the Iron Blood Sword Family faced the monster with all its might.

The result.

...Swashh, jjjeeezzzzzzzz!

Vikir was defeated.

Not surprising, since it was the 7th vs. the 9th.

Vikir felt his entire body being torn apart.

The pain felt as if a piece of meat had been dropped into the mouth of a huge toothy monster.

It was a level of damage that even the regenerative powers of a bog salamander could not have withstood.

Then.

"...!"

Vikir grabbed at something on the brink of death.

It was a survival instinct, a sense of urgency he hadn\'t felt since entering the Realm of the Supreme.

It is no wonder that a Swordmaster never has the opportunity to feel this way, to be helpless in the face of great horror and brutality.

And paradoxically, when he realized he was nothing, a mere insignificant fly.

...Flash!

A change occurred in Vikir\'s swordsmanship.

The 8th Form of Baskerville, the desperate need to survive, the desire for life, and the need for extreme combat experience.

Only when one has lost and regained his emotions becomes attached to life, the door to the 8th Form opens.

Vikir swung his sword and drew the 8th tooth.

It was the 8th tooth, still small, but clear and distinct.

At the same time, the 9th and 8th teeth clashed and canceled each other out.

And then.

...poof!

CaneCorso\'s long fangs dug diagonally into Vikir\'s body.

Quack!

Vikir was thrown helplessly to the ground and buried on the edge of the Grave of Swords.

[....]

CaneCorso. Swordmaster Advanced. No, Superlative. An absolute in the 9th form of Baskerville.

He stood still, staring into the rising dirt.

And then, in the darkness of CaneCorso\'s eye sockets, there was a flash of color again.

Thump, thump, thump.

Vikir was walking out from below, where crumbling aura, sparks, and sword fragments were falling like snow.

Zzzzzzzzzz.

The deep, almost amputating sword wound that ran diagonally across Vikir\'s body was healing at an astonishing rate.

A regenerative power that surpassed humans long ago.

It was a regenerative power that could not be matched by even the most powerful of monsters whose specialty was regeneration.

[...Basilisk].

CaneCorso recognized Vikir\'s ability with a glance.

Vikir stopped in his tracks.

/ Awl

-1 Slot: Venomous -Madame Eight-Legged (S)

-2 Slot: Unkillable -Basilisk (S)

-3 Slot: Silence Hill -Mushuhushu (A+)

"I was lucky to find the body of a basilisk before I entered the Grave of Swords.

Vikir had absorbed the mummified remains of a basilisk, which had been pickled in salt, and had learned to use its regenerative powers as his own.

He was indeed lucky. The regenerative powers of a bog salamander would not have been enough to survive CaneCorso\'s strike.

Anyway.

Thanks to the power of the magic sword Beelzebub, Vikir escaped death.

And in return, he was able to reach the higher realms.

It is at the threshold of death that one realizes the depths of the 8th Forms.

Those who become Swordmasters rarely have to fight for their lives, and this is where the stagnation occurs.

[Only those who, upon entering the realm of the Supreme, continue to fight with the same heart as when they first took up the sword will gain something].

CaneCorso\'s words were the most basic, the closest to the truth.

Meanwhile, Vikir lifted his head and looked at CaneCorso.

"The Lurking Ambush Swordsmanship. Was it you who wrote that sword book?"

[No. That would be impossible. I, too, have not yet mastered the entirety of the ten formulas in that book].

"Then...."

As Vikir trailed off, the CaneCorso nodded obediently.

[I am, too, a descendant who read the Book of Swordsmanship. However, I was afraid that someone other than me would learn this, so I tore a few pages and scattered them.]

"Wouldn\'t it have been better to just burn it and get rid of it?"

[I could not bring myself to destroy the Swordsmanship Book itself; how dare I destroy such a great treasure with my own hands].

Vikir did not bother to tell Kainkorso that he had burned the sword book.

On the other hand, CaneCorso was intrigued that a descendant had managed to get his hands on a complete copy of the Lurking Ambush.

[...Somehow those who are destined to meet must meet].

CaneCorso sheathed his greatsword. It meant that he would not attack Vikir anymore.

At the same time, the heavy weight that had been weighing down on them vanished.

Vikir had no intention of fighting anymore.

He had just come back from the brink of death and had just reached the 8th Form.

His opponent, on the other hand, had already reached the 9th Form long ago. If he tried to fight him, he would be no match.

Then CaneCorso said.

[My young rival and relative, my cute nephew. Come here and take what you want.]

His attitude was different than before.

Vikir looked puzzled and asked.

"May I take the Wraith Tree behind that iron throne?"

[Do as you please, it\'s just a weed to me, such things are only for mages].

"Aren\'t you here to protect it?"

[Of course not. I\'m here for a completely different reason. These grass roots are, well, ancestral creatures that took root in this tower before me, so I just respect them and have no particular attachment to them.]

Vikir shook his head.

Then, two roots from the Wraith Tree behind the Iron Throne were placed in Vikir\'s hands.

It was an eerie sapling that was dry and hard, yet somehow cold and damp.

"...."

Vikir turned his head.

CaneCorso had been sitting in the iron throne again for some time.

But its curious eyes were still fixed on Vikir.

Vikir stared at CaneCorso.

6th Form. A level that can be reached only by letting go of emotions.

7th Form. A level that can be reached only by regaining emotions.

8th Form, a level that can only be ascended by attachment to life and harsh combat experience.

In fact, the Eighth Form could be said to be a difficult stage to experience without the guidance of a senior in the upper level of the Supreme Realm.

Or it takes a lot of hard work.

... So where does that make the old man level?

As Vikir was thinking to himself, CaneCorso said.

[Wondering about the 9th form?]

It was the answer.

"...."

Vikir\'s silent affirmation made CaneCorso smile faintly.

[You will probably never reach this level in your lifetime].

Vikir raised an eyebrow at the words as if they were a taunt.

But CaneCorso continued in a serious tone.

[Because the realm of the Nine Forms is beyond the threshold of death].

That means that one can only step into the realm of the 9th Form by actually being dead.

... But what does that mean for the CaneCorso in front of him?

Hasn\'t he definitely reached the level of the 9th Form?

Seeing Vikir\'s puzzled expression, CaneCorso released his greatsword and raised his both hands.

Tzutzutzutz...

With that, a black aura boiled up.

...Teng! Teng!

The heavy iron gloves wrapped around CaneCorso\'s hands fell to the ground.

"...!"

Vikir\'s eyes widened.

CaneCorso\'s hands were dried up to nothing but bone and skin.

Like the hand of a corpse.

[So I crossed the threshold of death and entered into it.]

As a result, CaneCorso died. Alone and lonely in a remote place where no one else in the world knew him.

But he never regretted it, even to his last breath.

Because in exchange for that lonely death, he came closer to the core of the Supreme, a place no human had reached in centuries.

A noble knight who had risen to the rank of Superhuman died and was transformed.

Death Knight.

That was the identity of CaneCorso.