Volume 3 Chapter 227 Resonating Echoes ②
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Sir Kian, step back!” Linca shouted.
”You step back, woman,” someone snapped.
Linca, who had tried to move forward, was hurled backward by an unseen force.
She rolled across the stone floor and sprang into a defensive stance—but dark chains burst from the ground, coiling tight around her pale limbs.
”Ahhh!?” she cried.
Her beautiful face twisted in agony as the chains snared her arms and legs, lifting her into the air.
”Linca!” Kian shouted.
”This is the trap the dark spirit laid to catch Talia,” the man said coolly. “In the end, she never sprung it—she simply vanished from this world.”
”Let her go!” Kian barked.
”Don’t get so angry,” the man said. “I won’t kill her. The only one I came for is you, Kian.”
The young man in black monk robes and glasses moved toward them, calm and measured. As always, his left arm ended below the elbow, his clothes tattered and stained.
”Don’t come any closer,” Kian warned.
He turned to face the man and drew Maribel’s longsword, regretting not having reclaimed the Misty Magic Sword he’d entrusted to Linca earlier.
”Of course. There’s a proper distance for conversation,” the man said with a shrug. “Get too close, and discomfort overwhelms everything. Even an idiot like me understands that.”
”That line alone proves you don’t understand the situation,” Kian said, sword raised. “Now’s not the time for small talk.”
”Really?” The man tilted his head. “Aren’t you even curious who I am?”
”Sir Kian, don’t listen to his words—uuugh, ah…!?” Linca’s voice broke as the chains constricted her throat, cutting her off.
Before Kian could react, the chains slackened, and her ragged breathing resumed.
”If I’ve become a dark spirit, I’ll kill you,” the man said coldly. “Those chains are a spirit’s weapon. Your ‘Penetration’ won’t block them.”
He wrapped impact energy around the blade and pointed it straight at the man.
”Release her.”
”If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to wait.”
”Then talk fast. What do you want?”
”I want your body.”
”What?” Kian’s expression didn’t change, but his grip tightened on the hilt.
The man in monk robes pushed his glasses up his nose. A confident smile crept across his lips, flashing pristine white teeth.
”I’m—I want to be you.”
”You want to be me…? Aren’t you my other personality? You’re trying to take my place?”
”You really think I’m just another side of you?” the man asked. “That’s a leap in logic. A split personality wouldn’t detach and take form. A thorny shadow illusion is just that—an illusion. Your alternate self couldn’t move independently.”
”Then what are you?” Kian narrowed his eyes. “No—think. This is the dark spirit’s cave. Only its followers and the spirit itself dwell here. But you said the spirit’s already gone. If that’s true… you must be one of its followers who’s been hiding out here.”
As Kian spoke, the man in black nodded, satisfied.
”That’s right. There’s no other answer. I’m a counterfeit—crafted to mimic your hidden self. Since I wear your face, even the place where the soul-cleaving sword severed me is different.”
He turned his face to Kian, pacing like a predator circling wounded prey.
”I too was sliced by the soul-severing sword Funeral Dance (Soukoku Kagura). We’re comrades, you and I.”
”I see. That’s unfortunate,” Kian said flatly.
”Unlike you, I’m left-handed. I can’t wield a sword anymore. This sorrow—this despair—you should understand.”
”You don’t look too broken up about it.”
”You’ve still got your other arm, don’t you?”
The man chuckled low in his throat.
”If that one gets chopped off too, bite the blade. If your mouth’s ruined, tie it to your arm and keep fighting.”
”That’s some serious defiance,” Kian muttered.
The man raised his right arm, finger extended.
”You too—when I first saw you, I was stunned to find someone whose spirit mirrored mine. It was three months ago, at Kharab’s stall.”
”What did you say?” Kian asked, tension spiking.
”Kharab can only ‘cut’ in square shapes. And with just Erynys’s soul—severed from humanity—he couldn’t form Talia’s infant soul properly. So after killing Erynys, he came for me.”
The man threw his arms wide, laughing.
His harsh laughter rang across the cave, scraping the eardrums.
”Black Onyx’s spirit, Kharab decided to finely carve my soul and mix it into the body of my archenemy, Talia! Along with Erynys’s soul! Just like what you did to Isthbaran’s body. My soul, weaker than Erynys’s, got swallowed up by her. But I survived. Inside Talia.”
”So you’re…”
”Just a swordsman, locked away in this cave. A leftover. A wandering spirit, to use your terms.”
In other words—
Until now, the figure Kian saw when wearing glasses—’Glasses’—had simply been the other side of him.
But the man standing here in black robes, missing one arm, was something else.
He was a remnant—an echo of a dark spirit follower’s soul, wearing Kian’s skin.
”So you’re not me,” Kian said quietly.
”No. But I adventured with you through ‘Glasses.’ I resonated with your hidden side. And from a mere spirit, I became something more—solid. Independent.”
The man’s eyes gleamed.
”I’m a perfect replica of your vengeful side. If I take your body, I can become Kian Vahid. Vengeful Kian Vahid.”
”You’re spinning a weird theory,” Kian said. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re not me. Is this conversation over?”
”No. This is just the beginning.” The man stopped walking and met Kian’s gaze.
”Hey—’I.’ Even if I take over, you won’t vanish. You can come out when needed. Like before.”
The air thickened.
”In other words,” the man said, “like switching on and off by wearing ‘Glasses.’ You need me.”
──────
”The reason your hidden self emerged was because my soul stirred yours. Your desires were unlocked. And now, even when you wear the glasses, you don’t switch—because you’ve already accepted me. We’ve almost become one. Because I also crave revenge.”
──────
I get it now, Kian thought.
After telling Linca, I’m the Avenger. I don’t care what happens to the world. Let it all burn.
Then, he’d donned the glasses—and no second persona emerged.
The moment he chose to live alongside Linca, that hidden self had effectively fused… or died.
”But there are things only that side of you could do,” the man said, extending a hand.
”Only that self could judge certain things. So I propose again—give me your body. Half is enough. Let’s begin a long journey together, chasing vengeance until we’re satisfied!”
His voice rang through the cave.
Linca’s muffled groan, her mouth still bound by chains, drowned out the last word.
”My body is mine alone,” Kian said. “I won’t give it to you.”
”You think I’m unnecessary?”
Kian didn’t answer.
Instead, he wrapped his feet in Leap and lunged at the figure in black—himself.
But the red-glowing eyes behind the glasses shimmered, and the man’s form dissolved into mist.
Kian, unfazed, looked up at the cavern’s ceiling.
”So, you’re rejecting my proposal?”
”…,” came no reply.
In silence, Kian fired a Shot.
The spire the man had clung to exploded in a blast, and once again, the figure vanished.
”Then like a swordsman,” Kian muttered, “I guess we settle this with blades.”
He turned diagonally to his right.
The man had landed again, a cold smile on his face.
His right arm thrust forward.
Darkness around him compressed—Leap condensed—and in the next moment, a curved black sword materialized in his hand.
It closely resembled the black blades standard to warrior monks.
”I’ve honed my swordsmanship to counter Talia’s magic blade,” he said. “I’ve developed six Secret Techniques, each on par with the magic sword.”
”You can’t match a magic sword with tricks,” Kian replied. “Don’t lie so easily.”
”Heh. You’re right—it was an exaggeration,” the man said. “But I have created techniques with real power. I could never replicate the magic sword that tears the soul and regenerates—Funeral Dance (Soukoku Kagura), the first of its kind.”
”So that’s why you’ve only got six techniques?”
”I’ll show you now,” he said, grinning. “It’s been ages since anyone watched me fight. My vanity’s howling with delight.”
”What an annoying guy,” Kian muttered.
Still, he focused.
Somewhere in his gut, he felt it—that these so-called Secret Techniques might actually be from Azrael’s Dance Swordsmanship.
If so, he’d need to watch out for the Pursuit of the Shadow—the acceleration technique—and the massive energy burst from the sweeping strike, Skyrend.
”Let’s go, ‘I’!” the man shouted.
Kian donned the glasses.
Energy spiraled around his legs in spiral.
* * *
On the western mountain peak, Ramsey’s silhouette stood visible. The shadow cast across the Thorn Demon hunkered inside the fortress, as well as the mobilizing forces of Izerland, all lay within view.
Behind him sat a palanquin for those unable to walk, and farther back, several Wolfman warriors waited, their fur ruffled by the chill wind.
The old man—Umar Vahid—pressed a farsight monocle to his right eye, confirming the figure of Sarah as she rode a massive stag beetle, speeding down from the Snow Pass of the Giant.
”That foolish disciple…” he muttered.
”Hey, Mr. Umar!” Yelmar called out.
”What is it, Yelmar?” Umar asked, eyes never leaving the viewing lens.
Yelmar, leader of the Storm Herd’s Branch Family, let out a tired sigh.
”It’d be smarter to move from here fast. That Demon’s activation probably means Lord Owl’s nearby. If we’re spotted, it’s over.”
Yelmar and his mercenary band had been hired by Umar for protection. Even after being driven from Izerland, their contract bound them to him. At first, they’d been dismissed as low-grade fighters armed with scraps, but in truth, they were hardened regulars. Many of their allies had already fallen.
Yelmar’s group was made up of Storm Herd stragglers, including female Wolfmen who had never been trained for combat. Now, they gripped weapons with trembling fingers.
Despite their lack of strength, they had survived the earlier clash at the ancient temple—facing Linca, Tsai, Shura, and others. The core Storm Herd unit, including Sven, had been wiped out.
Their enemies, while weak by Izerland standards, still outmatched Yelmar’s diminished crew.
Only through Umar’s direction, Yelmar’s skill, and Katyusha’s power had they escaped. But they’d left behind all food stores and couldn’t restock weapons. Without arrows or swords, the group had become little more than scavengers.
”Call your head magician,” Umar said.
”Natasha? She ran off,” Yelmar replied with a shrug.
”I see. Then it’s fine,” Umar said.
”What do you mean ‘fine’? Listen, we might be on your payroll, but we’re not dying for you. Not worth it. If you’re staying, we’re leaving.”
”I’ll pay you. I’ll double the reward,” Umar said calmly.
”You got that kind of money?”
”I do. I paid you last week, didn’t I?”
”True. But what about this week? Don’t tell me you’re so broke you can’t even ransom Katyusha from Abbas. That’s why you’ve been scheming, right? You had Eleonora buy those blast bombs for a criminal price, then passed the debt to some banker.”
”────”
Yelmar grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
”You listening, old man?! If you’ve got cash, pay for our weapons, medicine, and food!”
”Let go of my arm,” Umar said, voice quiet but firm.
His eyes glowed red under the moonlight.
”It’s night now. The medicine is working. If I felt like it, I could kill every last one of you.”
”────”
”If you don’t want to lose more comrades, follow my orders.”
”Follow your orders? What’s the plan?” Yelmar asked, jaw clenched.
A girl from the Wolfmen, her shoulder wrapped in bloodstained bandages, stepped forward.
Umar brushed off Yelmar’s grip and answered.
”We use the chaos. Monitor the battlefield. Once Sarah slays the giant, we steal its heart.”
”What’s the point of taking that?” the girl asked.
”Inside the Bloodsucking Kind’s heart is a spirit core that triggers the Restoration Curse,” Umar said. “Originally, I meant to scour Count Cain’s territory for a live vampire and extract it. Seems fate spared us the trouble.”
He went on.
”The Thorn Demon’s strong. Plenty will die. After the battle, valuables will litter the wheat fields and the ruins of Ramsey. You won’t just get my reward—what you scavenge becomes yours.”
”Wow! That means we’ll be rich, right?!” one of the younger Wolfmen said.
”That’s right. Then you can buy land in the countryside and rebuild your ragtag group from the ground up. So—Yelmar, even now, you still planning to run?”
”Tch.” The young Wolfman clicked his tongue. “Fine. I’m in. But you’d better pay what you promised. If you short me even a copper, I’ll dump you and your crew in the river.”
Umar gave a satisfied nod and returned the farsight lens to his eye.
Through it, just as expected, Sarah’s figure raced northeast.
* * *
(Someone’s watching.)
No magical energy. No detectable presence. But something made the hairs on Sarah’s neck rise.
That prickling… It’s him, isn’t it? Umar. Her animal instincts—like a gorilla’s—picked up the disturbance.
”Ms. Sarah? Is something wrong?” Aliona’s calm voice snapped her from the haze.
Sarah smiled. “No, Ms. Aliona. It’s nothing.”
”I see. Then, allow me to explain again. This barrier magic is categorized as spirit magic. The boundary must form a perfect square. All four corners must be right angles. If they’re off, the spirit won’t respond.”
”Spirit magic—so, it’s summoning that borrows a spirit’s power temporarily? Like a ritual? Usually that needs songs and offerings, right?”
”This time, we’re skipping that step,” Aliona said, producing four black wedges. “Using these.”
”But the square must be flawless. If the shape warps, the magic fails. I know I’m repeating myself, but if we mess this up, there’s no second chance.”
”Why a square?” Sarah asked.
”No idea. This technique’s a secret passed down by the Elves. I only memorized it—I don’t understand the theory.”
”Did you use a barrier when you beat the last Demon?” Sarah asked.
Aliona shook her head.
”No. Last time… my friend became the Demon’s core. I caught up just after it formed. They were poor—only gathered three cores. That let me keep hammering its weak points with physical attacks.”
”I see,” Sarah said softly.
Aliona nodded, but her expression darkened.
It wasn’t luck that Aliona arrived after her friend transformed. It was a curse. If she’d been luckier, she might have stopped the transformation altogether.
”Technically, even if I destroyed the core, the Spiritual Vein would regenerate it. But… it didn’t. I think my friend stopped the process by sheer will. In the end, I carved the spirit core from its heart—what remained of them—and subdued it.”
She paused, her voice heavy.
”Sorry. I ramble with age. It’s probably hard to know what to say.”
”No, not at all,” Sarah said.
”I’ll give you two wedges. I’ll take northwest and southwest. You handle northeast, then return to the southeast. Signal when you’re done.”
Aliona raised her hand. A pillar of light surged up from the marshlands.
”Place them where the light is. Guard the wedges so they aren’t destroyed. Check from above—make sure it forms a perfect rectangle.”
”If it’s a square, wouldn’t a rhombus or trapezoid work?” Sarah asked.
”No. Absolutely not.”
Aliona’s tone turned sharp.
”Alright, I’m going,” she said, leaping from the stag beetle.
She stabbed a mistletoe needle into the ground—bam-and in a flash, summoned a golem. The speed and precision of her circuit casting were miles beyond what Sarah could replicate.
Even though golems were Sarah’s specialty, the gap in skill made her wince. Still, she pushed down the self-doubt and funneled more magic into the beetle.
(A perfect square. Can I really do it?)
It wasn’t something she liked admitting—but Sarah was terrible with her hands. When she was young, all the other kids could mold golems easily, but hers always came out wrong. Umar had nearly pulled his hair out in frustration.
Straight lines and right angles? Never once got them right. Not even with a ruler. They always shifted.
Just the idea of measuring down to the millimeter made her scalp itch.
”No, Sarah. Stay strong,” she whispered.
(Within me flows Kian’s essence. He steadies my clumsy hands. He’ll protect me.)
Her throat tightened.
(Don’t cry. You’re the commander. On the battlefield, you must stay calm.)
She skirted the thorns sprouting from the Demon’s footprints and reached the beam of light Aliona had marked. The Demon’s shadow had twisted the Spiritual Vein’s flow, so the gate home was unusable.
Quickly but precisely, she set the wedge. Then summoned three Beetle Golems for defense.
She took off toward the southeast.
As she flew, a signal flashed from the southwest—a burst of golden light. Her heart skipped.
She reached the final wedge point and secured it.
Signal up. Then—
Crack—three more golems dropped into place to guard the perimeter.
(Did the barrier… activate?)
Once Sarah finished generating the three beetles, she looked up at the sky.
In Sarah’s eyes, the barrier didn’t seem to be active.
Since it was an elven secret, maybe it couldn’t be sensed by ordinary means?
From the wheat field behind them, Renaud’s deep voice echoed.
The ballistae and trebuchets, transported in pieces, were now about 90% assembled.
Large spears and massive stones—soon to be ammunition—were being hauled in by Rufna and Aerial. Firing would begin soon.
”Ms. Sarah!” someone shouted.
”Ms. Aliona!” another voice called out.
While they waited for Aliona’s signal, she suddenly appeared beside Sarah in a short-range teleport. She sprinted toward her at alarming speed, a look of distress on her face.
”The barrier isn’t activating!” she shouted.
”Huh?!” Sarah gasped. “It might be my fault! I’ll go check the northeast again!”
”No, the installation’s correct,” Aliona said, shaking her head. “But the spirit isn’t responding!”
”What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
”I don’t know. Either way, we can’t activate the barrier that suppresses magic power absorption. Not until the spirit responds. For now, we’ll have to manage without it!”
”Sarah, Aliona—what’s going on with the barrier?!” Renaud’s voice thundered as he stomped toward them.
”Sorry,” Aliona said with a confused look. “The magic won’t activate.”
”What?!” Renaud barked. “What’s causing it?”
”I don’t know! It’s currently impossible to activate! I’m really sorry!”
A rare expression—sorrow—shadowed the High Elf’s face.
Renaud pressed on. “Are there any other options? Anything at all?”
Before Aliona could respond, a deafening blast echoed from Ramsey’s fortress—like a cannon fired too close.
”────! Hit the ground, NOW!” Renaud roared.
He grabbed Aliona and Sarah with his thick arms, hauling them to the ground.
In the same breath, Sarah conjured a rock dome behind his back.
A heartbeat later, something massive pierced the earth from above.
Crash.
Thorns—spikes!
Eyes wide, Sarah stared from beneath Renaud’s bulk.
Aliona had already crawled free and raised another stone dome over a nearby soldier.
But many weren’t as lucky. Soldiers still unprotected were impaled by the skyborne spikes.
Screams rang out from every direction.
The wounded soldiers convulsed—twisting as brambles overtook their flesh. Their forms morphed grotesquely, growing monstrous under the vines’ grip.
From the spikes lodged in the soil, tentacle-like limbs sprang free, lashing toward survivors with insectoid speed.
”Damn it!” Renaud growled, rising from shelter.
Sarah scrambled up behind him.
Within Ramsey, the Thorn Demon dropped to all fours—its back swelling grotesquely as it prepared to launch its next volley.
”Sarah, Aliona—support formation! Rufna, Aerial, Serena, get those ballistae and catapults finished! OOOOOOOOHHH!” Renaud’s bellow shook the field.
His body began to expand—red scales crawling over his skin as wings unfurled from his back. He drew a massive breath and exhaled a pillar of fire into the falling thorns.
Renaud’s flame breath roared.
The thorns blackened midair, turning to brittle cinders before hitting the earth.
Flexing, his body surged in size. At full height, tail included, he might have rivaled the Thorn Demon itself.
A crimson dragon now stood before them.
”We’re going too!” Sarah shouted.
She nodded to Aliona, then leapt onto the back of a stag beetle.
* * *
Following Renaud’s charge, Sarah and Aliona raced toward Ramsey.
At the fortress, the Thorn Demon—its body bloated from feeding—slowly raised its head.
It was about to stand.
Once upright, it would move again.
Ideally, it would stagger toward the uninhabited region of Dacia. But this creature fed on humans. It would likely head for the nearest populated area—
Izerland.
The barrier’s absence hurt, but it couldn’t be helped. All they could do now was fight with everything they had.
”Ballista, catapult—ready!” Rufna’s voice rang out behind them, carried by the wind of magic.
”Shoot! Be careful not to miss! Five… four… three… two… one… Fire!!” Aliona shouted.
Eleonora’s gunpowder hadn’t arrived in time.
Still, even without flame enchantments, the ballista bolts and stones packed real punch.
A giant spear and boulder—launched high—soared over Renaud’s head.
They punched through Ramsey’s castle wall and zeroed in on the Thorn Demon.
”Third magic sword Heavenbreaker. Seventh magic sword Water Moon,” someone intoned.
”────!?”
”…Eh!?”
”Wha… what the hell!?”
The air trembled with Renaud’s deep snarl.
Before their eyes, something unreal unfolded.
A lone figure appeared in the sky.
To Sarah’s inhuman sight, the silhouette revealed itself—a girl with golden hair and crimson eyes.
In one hand, she held a knife. In the other, a red sword.
Under the white moonlight, the girl’s knife traced an elegant arc.
In that instant, dozens of white blades bloomed in the air.
They shot forward—intercepting the ten ballista bolts mid-flight.
Then she raised the red sword and sliced the boulder in two.
At the same time, a crimson beam erupted from the blade, obliterating one of the trebuchets.
That sword… Ms. Talia’s… That’s what Kian told me… Wait—that blonde girl—
”Ms. Talia?!” Sarah called out, the Fifth magic sword Rend Tear in her hand.
She stared at the girl who had just turned their entire arsenal to ash.
”What are you doing, Ms. Talia?!”
”Sarah, sorry,” the girl replied coldly. “But you’ll die here. The old hag and the barbarian will join you too.”
”What!? What are you saying?!”
”Hey! I don’t know who you are, but are you the enemy?!” Renaud roared, still in dragon form, eyes narrowed as he stared skyward.
The girl nodded.
”That’s right. I’m the one who summoned the Thorn Demon.”
”────!”
”Hmph. I see,” Renaud growled. “Then I’ll turn you to ash first.”
”Try it, if you can.”
Spreading her arms, the girl summoned five magic swords. They floated, spinning in a slow circle around her.
Renaud inhaled sharply.
A blazing orange beam of heat burst from his jaws, lighting the entire sky.
The girl simply raised her Crimson Cursed Sword.
”I don’t know who you are,” she said, “but you’ll be obliterated.”
Her voice cracked like thunder.
The heat beam surged toward her.
Notes:
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Kharab – The enemy who stole Talia’s soul and possessed her body; referred to by the Black Onyx Spirit; defeated by Kian.
• Isthbaran – The High Warlord of the ‘Storm Herd.’
• Sven – The Wolfman warrior, appears to be a leader or prominent figure among the warriors. Assisting Kian to the Ancient Temple.
• Katyusha – A female warrior monk of the black panther race and a follower of Abbas Hashmalik Shakerdoust.
• Abbas – The heir of the Shakerdoust family, a prominent clan within the Twelve Divine Generals.
• Count Cain – Talia’s father.
• Aerial – Female. A modern-looking young woman with short brown hair, revealing clothes, and gaudy accessories. She specializes in healing and basic magic but is cold and unsociable. She has a sad backstory related to losing her ability to sing magic.
• Serena – Wolfmen Girl
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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