Volume 3 Chapter 232 Blue Butterfly, Thousands Of Prayers
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
One of the techniques wielded by Azrael—the god of death and rebirth—when reaping the souls of sinners:
The Fifth Deadly Sword.
A zigzag-shaped aura of violent energy whirled around the blade, flickering and flashing like a storm held in steel.
Each swing extended beyond the blade’s edge, slashing through the air with ghostlike reach.
This weapon was infused with a derivative of the “Tear” technique from the Impact series, which dismantled its target on contact.
But the Secret Technique—Skyrend—was in a class of its own.
Its sheer destructive force was so overwhelming that no ordinary weapon could survive it.
Even the Misty Magic Sword—Kian’s main blade—would shatter under the pressure.
If the weapon had high durability, it might survive one use. But even then, the wear would be devastating.
Kian couldn’t risk using his primary sword.
He carried a spare—a black, curved blade.
It had no magical properties—just durability.
And for a warrior monk specializing in the Leap series, losing the Misty Magic Sword meant a dramatic drop in attack power.
That’s why, when invoking Skyrend, he used a blade from Wraith—one he could afford to break.
”…, ……, ────!!” he hissed under his breath.
He drew the longsword gifted to him by Maribel, maneuvering it with his prosthetic arm.
Letting go of the Misty Magic Sword with his left hand, he bit down on the hilt, gripping it in his teeth.
Then, he passed the ordinary sword to his left hand.
A split-second before the nineteen Erynys clones could charge across the battlefield, Kian had already leapt far back.
One clone locked eyes with him mid-air, unable to close the gap—
but the rest remained grounded, all lined up on a single plane.
A perfect setup for one sweeping horizontal slash of Skyrend.
[Secret Technique]
Kian spun—
a deadly pirouette.
He marked each rushing shadow—nineteen in total.
They were fast.
They began to fan out.
But they were all still within the blast range.
He could hit them all.
”────…!” he muttered, narrowing his eyes.
He positioned the sword at his waist, gripping it tightly in his left hand.
In one breath, he poured all his gathered energy into the blade.
(Reach!)
No, this strike couldn’t compare to the brilliance of the Windsong Blade.
And beside Princess Talia’s fifth magic sword, Rend Tear (Hizakari), it seemed almost laughable.
But still—
this tiny glimmer was the crystallized essence of a nameless swordsman’s lifelong devotion to the sword.
A small light—
but a precious one.
(Nameless swordsman… here and now, I’ll revive your legacy. Lend me your strength.)
”────!!”
Landing lightly, Kian surged forward again.
From the front, the real Erynys charged in. She gave a short scoff, a defiant grin on her face.
The wind stirred.
The grassy plain was whipped into chaos by the gathering storm.
But this time, the wind carried not a prayer of hope—
but a prayer for destruction.
Deliver it to the heavens.
Let the earth tremble.
I am not some forgotten stone by the roadside.
I am a star, burning with life.
The Misty Magic Sword slipped from his mouth.
It hit the ground with a dull clink.
His breath escaped in a sharp hiss.
His heartbeat pulsed through his entire left side like a war drum.
”Go, Kian! Don’t lose!” a voice cried—perhaps real, perhaps only a memory.
Fueled by that distant echo,
Kian released his final Secret Technique.
A single, decisive slash—
”…Skyrend!!”
Light exploded from the sword drawn at his waist.
The silver blade—barely over a meter in length—suddenly stretched out, dozens of meters long.
It lit Kian’s form in silhouette, a black shape beneath a blade of light.
The field caught fire.
Moisture turned to steam.
The air filled with the smell of scorched earth and burning grass.
The slash didn’t just cut—
it tore.
It ripped through muscle and bone, searing black wounds deep into the Erynys clones.
Their bodies smoked and glowed red, their eyes fading to nothing.
One by one, they crumbled into ash.
Not a single one remained.
Nineteen enemies, erased.
Only one figure was left standing—
the true Erynys, still floating in the sky above.
The longsword given by Maribel shattered in Kian’s hand, fragments raining down like broken stars.
He grabbed the Misty Magic Sword from the ground.
In one fluid motion, he fired a warning Shot (射) toward the figure overhead.
T/N: “Shot” is a rapid magic projectile.
”Not bad,” Erynys smirked, dodging with ease.
”You learned Skyrend from Linca in that short time?”
Her crimson eyes gleamed.
”Did you learn Mirror Moon? If not, this will be your checkmate.”
”────…” Kian said nothing, his gaze burning with determination.
Six magic swords spun into formation around her—
a wall of blades hovering in a horizontal line.
Erynys reached out for the one on the far right—
the curved demon blade: Water Moon (Mizuki).
Combined with her mist barrier, Mistcloud (Kasumigumo),
she had created a flawless defense.
There was no breaking through.
Even Skyrend would be reflected by Water Moon.
That left only one option:
Strike before the blade could activate.
Kian’s eyes narrowed with resolve.
Erynys reached for the cursed blade, black and gold.
It began to shimmer, manifesting in her hand.
At that moment, Kian flooded his prosthetic right arm with magic.
”────!?!?”
For the first time on the battlefield—
Erynys faltered.
Even when facing Skyrend, she had kept calm.
But now, her eyes widened in disbelief.
The cursed sword slipped from her hand.
It flew toward Kian, as if the laws of gravity had flipped.
”────!”
But she recovered quickly.
”‘Glasses’” always had control.
She realized instantly: Kian had activated a Sword Summon Position Shift from his prosthetic arm.
She began redrawing the summoning circle for Water Moon (Mizuki).
But—
That single delay sealed her fate.
(Shadow Pursuit—!)
Energy coiled around Kian’s legs as he clutched the Misty Magic Sword.
With a blast of power, he shot into the sky.
He appeared above her—
eyes locking with hers midair.
His black irises met her trembling red ones.
”Kian, you—” she started.
”Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhh!!!”
He brought the blade down.
The Misty Magic Sword extended to its limit.
Erynys moved to dodge—
but she wasn’t fast enough.
The blade carved through her, shoulder to waist.
A perfect, fatal strike.
Blood sprayed out in a wide arc as Kian’s blade severed her clavicle. Erynys’s delicate frame tilted violently to the right.
Her leathery bat wings, once extending proudly from her back, were sliced clean through and fluttered to the ground like torn parchment.
Kian headbutted her scream shut—his skull slamming into her jaw—then rammed the serrated claws of his prosthetic arm into the gaping wound at her shoulder.
He felt her muscles rip apart as he tore through them with brute force.
Warm blood slicked his fingers.
He found it—a pulsing organ beneath layers of tissue.
He gripped it.
He pulled.
”AaaaaaaAAAAGH!?” she shrieked, voice cracking like glass.
The golden guard of the Misty Magic Sword smashed into his face.
His nose split open from the blow, blood dripping down, but Kian grinned savagely and sank his teeth into her shoulder.
Two more strikes—harder, more precise—cracked against his skull.
Then a fierce kick drove into his stomach and launched him off her.
He landed hard.
Erynys, now missing one of her wings, plummeted after him, unable to stay aloft. She struck the ground with a painful thud.
”Pe—” she coughed, blood and shredded flesh falling from her mouth.
The taste was strangely sweet.
She clenched the heart in her prosthetic hand—the final, twitching organ of the flesh doll—and squeezed.
It pulsed once.
Then exploded in a flash of red mist.
”Kian, you bastard!” she screamed, rising slowly, bloodied but burning with rage.
Her golden hair was soaked in crimson.
Her face—usually reserved and measured—had twisted into something feral.
All traces of logic, of diplomacy, of rebuilding the world together as partners… were gone.
She spat blood and fixed him with hate-filled, bloodshot eyes.
”You! You! You!! How dare you do this! Give it back! Give me back that spirit stone!” she shouted.
”Is this it?” Kian asked, holding a small red gem between his fingers.
Faint energy shimmered off it.
The Restoration Curse had begun to activate. Erynys could feel its pull—something ancient, binding.
She hesitated. If she crushed it like the heart, would it truly break?
If a fragment remained, it could be reclaimed—perhaps repurposed.
(Then this is probably the best way.) he thought.
Kian raised the stone to his lips and opened his mouth.
Erynys’s eyes widened in horror.
”Wait! Stop! I won’t forgive you!” she screamed.
”I don’t care if you forgive me,” he said flatly.
He tossed the spirit stone into his mouth.
It crunched between his teeth like rock candy. Loud cracks echoed as he ground it down, mixing the bitter iron flavor with his saliva.
It was intoxicating—more satisfying than wine, more potent than any kill.
When he finally swallowed it, he turned to Erynys, who now clutched her chest and writhed in agony.
”I’ve crushed the spirit stone,” he said.
”You’ve lost, glasses.”
”…Nn…” she muttered.
She dropped to all fours. Her nails tore into the dirt.
”Glasses, no more of this…” Kian said softly, voice cracking.
But before he could move, a devastating impact slammed into his gut, hurling him backwards like a rag doll.
”Guh!” he gasped.
He skidded across the grass, tumbling violently, until he managed to dig in his left hand and grind to a stop.
He looked up.
Erynys stood, swaying. But alive.
”I won’t forgive you,” she growled.
A surge of magic exploded from her core, trembling the very earth beneath them.
Wind howled.
The once-lush field turned a sickly brown.
Life itself fled the scene.
Kian felt it—a primal terror curling in his gut.
The glasses girl, who once seemed silly and sweet, was gone.
Something else had awakened.
”I won’t forgive you, Kian Vahid!!” she howled.
The air vibrated.
Vines—long, thorny, pulsating—burst from her shoulder wound.
Crack. Snap.
Her transformation began.
Her legs thickened, tangled with bark-like vines.
Her torso elongated.
Her arms darkened into rough wood.
Her face melted, reshaped—nasal bone gone, eyeballs exposed.
Her mouth tore open to her ears, jagged teeth glinting in the moonlight.
She had become the very corpse Kian once found beside Count Cain’s temple.
”Do you truly wish to die that badly?” she asked coldly.
”I was willing to spare you—so long as you kept chirping cutely. But now?” She scoffed. “You’d rather make me your enemy?”
”────!” Kian tensed, readying himself.
”What is it? Answer me, human.”
Her voice had deepened.
No longer that of a girl.
She towered above him—over three meters tall.
Around her, seven magic swords flickered into existence, forming a deadly halo.
The spirit stone had been destroyed—so how was she still this powerful?
”…My answer remains unchanged,” Kian muttered, voice low but resolute.
”I will save the world. I’ll stop you, even if I have to kill you.”
”Is that so?” she hissed.
Erynys, like a towering, cursed tree, looked down on him with disdain.
”In that case… you are no longer needed.”
”────”
”Human. I want your brain. So I’ll kill you, then ‘record’ you in the thorns.”
”────!”
One of the magic swords stirred.
Kian didn’t know how many she could still wield, but even two simultaneously would spell doom.
He raised his stance. But to his surprise, Erynys didn’t reach for a sword.
Instead, the earth writhed.
Dozens of thorny tendrils burst from the ground beneath him.
”…!” Kian gasped.
No need for swords, her vines seemed to whisper.
They would be enough.
And they were.
One lashed his right ankle.
”Gah!?” he cried out.
Pain lanced through him, then—weakness.
His magic was being drained.
For someone like Kian, with low tachyonian cell density, it was crippling.
”Ugh…”
He bent his left arm, aiming to sever the tendril.
But the vines were too fast—dozens more surged forward, wrapping around the Misty Magic Sword.
Screeeeech.
The blade shrieked—a wail of metal on bark.
Dragged across the dirt, Kian’s arm stretched toward his final backup: Wraith.
But then—
”Ah…!” he gasped.
The Misty Magic Sword—
Shattered.
Torn apart by the vines, shards flung into the air like broken glass.
A high-pitched metallic note echoed, like its final scream.
He lost his weapon.
It happened so fast.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Was it his mistake? A momentary lapse? Or something else?
(No. I’ll reflect later. Right now—I need a new weapon from Wraith.)
He reached for it.
Too late.
Something hot flared near his elbow.
”Ugh—!?”
He looked down.
A foot.
Erynys’s.
More thorns tangled around it.
And beside it—
Kagezuki, the Shadow Pierce sword.
Blood dripped from its blade.
And there… his left arm.
Severed.
”Ah────”
”AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
His scream tore from his throat.
Blood gushed from the wound with each heartbeat, painting the ground.
”Ah, gahhhhhh, ahhhhhhh!”
”Shut up, trash,” Erynys said flatly.
She drove the blade into his waist.
Kian felt his spine snap.
His lower body went numb.
Gone.
”Eat,” she whispered, her voice colder than ice.
But it wasn’t meant for him.
As he gasped through the pain, he looked up.
A massive tentacle descended—split into four ends, each tip slick and red, pulsing with hunger.
And it loomed ever closer.
GULP—!
The sickening sound of something being devoured echoed through the air.
Such words floated through my mind as Kian’s head was consumed by the thorny tentacles.
Like a crocodile catching its prey, the tentacles spiraled around him.
CRACK!
The snap of his neck rang out, sharp and final.
(Ah…)
He realized his head had turned in a direction it should never have gone.
Kian’s consciousness quickly descended into the dark.
──Sinking.
──Melting.
──Endlessly.
Into the pitch-black darkness.
Into the warm, muddy mire.
Drifting within the thorns, alongside countless records.
The ego that was “him” disappeared──
He couldn’t do anything.
By the time Erynys got serious, it was over before hr even realized it.
Linca was still fighting.
He—Kian—was supposed to save the world.
And yet…
HeI died irresponsibly.
Peacefully.
Alone.
It’s sad.
Frustrating.
Full of regret…
But strangely… it feels nice here.
For Kian, living meant fighting.
At times, he would swing his sword and face the enemy.
Other times, he was desperately resisting just to protect what was mine. His place.
Painful, cold loneliness.
That was life.
But if he died, he’d be freed from that suffering.
”────”
A blue butterfly fluttered into view.
Its wings scattered a shimmer of light as it danced, teasing Kian’s nose with a gentle breeze.
”Are you satisfied?”
The voice echoed softly.
Who… were you?
His name was fading. He couldn’t even remember anyone else’s.
In the hollow silence of his mind, he reached toward the blue wings.
”Were you able to leave a mark on the world?”
(────)
He had something he had to do.
Maybe… something only he could do.
He had always believed that someone like him—a dropout—could never matter.
But now, he was certain of one thing—
He was the only one who could save her.
”Erynys enjoyed the adventure with you.”
Ery… nys…
The butterfly spun gently.
They say butterflies guide souls to the afterlife.
Was she an angel?
”When Erynys talked about you, she seemed truly happy. She said you’re weird… but she liked you.”
”Please, help the guardian spirit.”
A voice rose from the darkness.
From the thorny sea of records, someone else’s consciousness floated up.
A chubby boy—probably a vampire.
”Lady Erynys is suffering.”
”She’s trying her best to save us.”
Other children’s voices chimed in.
In the dark, the blue butterfly danced again.
”No matter what the reason, what she did can’t be forgiven. But…”
Chasing the light, he lifted his melting left hand.
His right hand—gone.
”But I want you to save her. Please.”
”────You… are?”
”I am the Rose Garden Keeper.”
The butterfly whispered.
Its wings scattered light again.
Each beat of those wings lit up the darkness.
Chasing the butterfly, Kian reached up.
And then—
In the next instant, he felt someone take his hand.
The pull began deep within him—like being tugged from behind the navel.
Slowly, he was drawn away from the dark mire.
When he looked up, a hand extended from the butterfly.
Its wings shimmered… then began to take the shape of a woman’s hair.
”Rose Garden Keeper…” he murmured.
”Yes. The guardian of the Sanctum. The one who guided you and Linca. And…”
Light began to form into a human shape.
Without realizing it, Kian had stood up.
Before him stood a silhouette—glowing with soft, blue light.
The glow dimmed…
From within it, golden hair shimmered, and ruby-red eyes flickered to life.
A blonde girl.
She looked exactly like the flesh-form Erynys had once inhabited.
Holding Kian’s left hand, she gazed up at him with a solemn expression.
”The remains of what was once called Talia Cain. That is me.”
”────!”
Erynys had gathered the remnants of the soul still clinging to Talia’s lifeless body and shaped it into a butterfly.
After being defeated by Kharab, she had appointed that soul as the administrator of Sanctum.
Did it—did she—possess self-awareness?
Kian took a step toward her.
His right leg sank, knee-deep into the dark mire.
She pulled him back again.
”There’s almost no one left but me. Even those who lost self-awareness still want to save Erynys.”
Talia’s white arm reached toward a glowing orb behind her.
A flash of lightning sparked across Kian’s vision—vampire children’s shadows flickered in his memory.
”I understand your wishes, but I was killed by Erynys… absorbed into the thorns. Soon, even my consciousness will fade, leaving only a record behind.”
”I won’t let that happen,” she said, gently holding his hand. “I’m holding you together.”
Her beauty was chillingly unearthly—too young, too perfect.
”You swallowed the spirit stone. You can now use the Restoration Curse.”
”Will I… be resurrected?”
”Yes, if you wish—and if you help Erynys. That’s my condition.”
”She’s not someone you can beat with brute effort alone. Honestly, I doubt even I could defeat her.”
”I lost the Misty Magic Sword too…” Kian murmured, grimacing. “And ‘Nightshade’ armor’s probably wrecked. If the Wraith carrying my gear was crushed, all my weapons are gone too…”
”Fighting alone won’t solve this. Then I will fight with you.”
Her hands tightened around his.
Her crimson eyes glinted with fierce determination.
”I’ll become your right hand. I can retrieve that child’s sword temporarily.”
Kian hesitated.
”I’m not against saving ‘glasses’… As for that girl, I don’t care. But we traveled together for three months. She’s probably the first true friend I’ve had.”
He clasped her hand back.
”I’ll help. Even if it ends in death, I’ll fight—for her, and for the world. I’ll stop her.”
”Thank you.”
”Thank you… big brother. Thank you, new king. Please, guardian spirit—take care of everything.”
Countless voices rose from behind the girl, echoing from the darkness.
Even though they’d all been killed by Erynys… they still prayed for her peace.
If this wasn’t an illusion—then perhaps even this… was love.
He doesn’t know what happened between Erynys and the people of Count Cain’s territory.
The bonds they shared are only hinted at in the records.
But one thing feels certain:
Erynys… wasn’t alone.
There was salvation.
”Restore your body. Extend your missing right arm.”
Following her instruction, he moved his shoulder joint—and extended the severed limb.
Talia stepped forward and gently kissed his lips.
”…This was my first kiss.”
”Huh?”
”My first kiss.”
”…?”
”You not understanding this… makes you livestock. A pig. A pig-man.”
”Wha—!?”
Kian shot her a stunned glare.
But Talia ignored him and began chanting—a spell as graceful as song.
Blue light enveloped her body.
She was being drawn into Kian’s right arm.
His entire body glowed.
The lost sensations of his flesh returned one by one—
The sense of touch.
The sense of smell.
The taste in his mouth.
The sound of the world.
And then—
”Once more.”
As the spell concluded, Talia scattered into particles of light.
”Fight once more, Kian,” she whispered, sincere.
”You can do it.”
”Yeah.”
He surged upward from the depths of the abyss.
Above him—a white light, brilliant as the North Star.
The real world’s light.
Sight returned.
He remembered what he had to do.
Start again.
To live—
To fight—
To protect the world—
And to save his friend with the glasses.
A dazzling light enveloped his body.
His left arm shimmered with shadows.
His right—bathed in warm blue light.
The left arm—calling forth death, inherited from a nameless swordsman.
The right—restored by Talia, a symbol of life.
Light and darkness.
Death and rebirth.
It was just like Azrael.
Notes:
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
• tachyonian – a cell that generates magic power, allowing humans to enhance their bodies and perform magic to manipulate the external world. (tachyon: particle that always travels faster than light.)
• Kharab – The enemy who stole Talia’s soul and possessed her body; referred to by the Black Onyx Spirit; defeated by Kian.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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