Volume 3 Chapter 117 Jibril’s Shadow
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
A black figure moved between the tombstones.
It seemed like an optical illusion, but his body appeared to split into several copies.
Remaining shadow.
After the man took a step, a similar figure seemed to follow.
With each step, his copies multiplied. When there were five, the oldest shadow faded away.
It felt like being tricked by a monster or something.
Kian drew the Windsong Blade.
The magic sword emitted a high-pitched sound from the countless holes in its blade.
The sound activated the wind magic.
The sweet scent lingering in the graveyard was swept away by the strong wind of the Windsong Blade.
It was the wind that banished evil spirits.
The black man shielded his face with his knife-wielding arm against the wind from the magic sword.
(The man’s remaining shadows didn’t disappear. He glared, thinking the sweet scent was a neurotoxin causing hallucinations, but it seemed he was wrong.)
If so, the man’s multiplying body was likely due to his skill.
Kian slowly tracked the man’s movements with his eyes.
”People from Shin’s country use tricky techniques.”
”Does this technique look like Shin’s country’s skill?”
The man stopped walking, a wistful expression on his face.
Kian hadn’t expected him to respond.
He’d thought the bald man wasn’t the chatty type, but it seemed he was wrong.
With a slightly irritated voice, the man thrust his knife forward.
”Then what does this technique look like to you?”
Kian’s eyes caught the dark magic power swirling around the silver blade. He recognized it well—it was the weapon enhancement skill *Impact*, which he’d used countless times before obtaining the Windsong Blade.
This man must be a warrior monk of Azrael, just like him.
”By the way, you’re speaking Azraelian, right?”
”────”
Instead of answering, a silver knife flew toward Kian.
He sidestepped, dodging it, and closed in on the now weaponless man.
Without hesitation, Kian slashed the man’s body with his robe.
”────!?”
But there was no resistance as the blade cut through flesh, and Kian’s eyes widened in surprise.
The man’s shadow split in two from the shoulders and faded like mist.
”Ugh.”
Kian felt the wind behind him and guarded his neck with his *Silver Ice* gauntlet.
A moment later, a strong impact jolted his wrist.
Before he could turn, he was kicked fiercely in the side, sent flying into a tombstone.
”────”
The man was calm.
His expression unchanged, his guard unlowered.
He drew a black shamshir, flicked the blade, and hid it behind his back with the handle reversed.
Kian rolled away, quickly got up, and straightened his posture, but the man didn’t pursue—he just stared intently.
”Do you know who I am?”
”────”
The man didn’t answer, moving back and forth in a slow ellipse.
His black eyes were wide open, studying Kian with keen interest.
”At least tell me your name.”
”You’re a genius, Kian Vahid.”
”……?”
”I read the records at the monastery.”
The man’s eagle-like eyes glowed in the darkness.
”The energy you produce daily is one tachyonian. You barely manage to wield a warrior monk’s skills, and even maintaining your body’s functions is a struggle with your frail constitution. Yet, you became a warrior monk and were given the first transmission of *Impact* and *Leap*.”
”────!”
The man’s body blurred again.
In an instant, an invisible strike flew from behind Kian.
Without turning, Kian swung the Windsong Blade over his back, intercepting the attack without even seeing it.
He spun quickly, deflecting the man’s curved sword with his footwork.
”This sword skill, this footwork—no doubt about it.”
The man kept his distance, moving like a predator stalking prey.
”I feel your burning obsession with swords.”
”So what?”
”I love Azrael’s sword too—more than anyone.”
The man’s body vanished suddenly.
But Kian had already figured out his movement.
As he turned, Kian aimed for the man’s torso in a surprise attack.
But the man’s body turned to mist, and the Windsong Blade swung through empty air.
(Again.)
Kian analyzed the situation instantly.
His sword was being absorbed into the man’s body, yet there was no hitbox.
The cause was unknown.
Perhaps it was the warrior monk’s skill—*Shadow*.
(Either way, he’s trying to cut my neck while I’m off-balance.)
Kian noticed the black blade being absorbed toward his neck but kept thinking.
If that was the case, he’d use Mist Form to evade and create distance.
Then he’d erase the man with the Windsong Blade—without mercy.
The vampire technique would likely be new to him, so the man would be caught off guard.
The confusion would give Kian the opening to strike with the magic sword’s power.
”────────!”
But before activating Mist Form, Kian stopped.
The black blade halted just before touching his neck.
Maybe the man had no intention to kill. If so, Kian didn’t plan to fight to the death either.
But as he thought that, the man shook the stopped blade with a chattering noise.
”…”
The man’s sharp gaze caught Kian, who had raised both hands defensively.
Turning around, Kian saw the Shin woman he’d encountered earlier.
She glared at the bald man, her black eyebrows furrowed in anger.
”Did you forget your master’s order?”
”…”
The woman curled her right finger.
Countless threads shot from her white hand.
The threads coiled around tombstones, trees, and the man’s shamshir, binding it tightly.
The sword stopped because of her threads.
The man shook his head slightly.
As Kian slowly backed away, the woman’s threads vanished.
The black-clad man continued to stare at Kian intently, then sheathed his blade.
”Sir Kian, please return.”
The woman, dressed in traditional Eastern clothing, bowed politely.
”Beyond the Great Forest, into Izerland. Next time, I might harm you.”
”If you let Kian Vahid escape, are you disobeying your master’s order?”
”Tonight’s goal was achieved. No surveillance, no new orders.”
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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