The life that a person lived was on fire.
The life of the sword demon, Draka, burned.
The scent that wafts out as the path he walks is burning is by no means classical. It’s terrible, acrid, and full of venom. He swung his sword with venomous anger.
Sigh!
Every time the sword moved an inch, blood burst out like a fountain. The flesh of the dismembered beasts pattered, and the blood that rose up turned into a bloody mist, blocking the view. Ghosts run rampant in a meadow full of blood and flesh.
Swing the sword, swing it, and swing it again.
The ghost advances, slaughtering all the demonic beasts in sight. Every time he took a step, the corpses of the demon beasts piled up in a heap. The army of demonic beasts, which seemed endless, is slowly beginning to show its bottom, as if it were not infinite.
I flinch.
At some point, the group of demonic beasts that had been running without fear under the king’s command began to retreat due to the force of Draka. Animals feel fear from the ghost in front of them.
Is that really a human?
Even while the beasts stopped, Draka continued to swing his sword. He was covered in blood and threw himself at his limbs again and again. It leaps into the midst of the demonic beasts with their mouths open, tears them all apart, and jumps out again and again.
“come.”
Draka went crazy.
“More, more, more…”
The sight of him laughing and swinging his sword, even though he is covered in blood and completely damaged, is the first thing that comes to mind with the word ghost.
Cooung.
And then, the king of demonic beasts moved.
Trampling and squeezing the terrified demon beasts, the king of demon beasts pointed at the ghost. Hurry and run forward. A ghost in front, a fearful king behind. Now, no matter which side the demonic beasts choose, there is only death.
————!
The demonic beasts screamed and rushed at Draka. Watching them all being torn apart into six pieces, the King of Demonic Beasts raised his sword.
Patter.
Between the dripping blood and flesh.
The king of ghosts and demons faced each other. Draka’s red, bloodshot eyes glowed menacingly. The Demon Beast King’s eyes sparkled bright blue.
Kaaaaaaaaaaaa!
A friction sound that resonates without any modulation.
The ghost and the beast swung their swords at each other at the same time. Before the echoing sound subsided, Kaaang again, Kaaang again… Sword and sword began to clash noisily.
2.
This beast, which inherits the memories of the Demon Beast King, is a separate entity from the Demon Beast King Barta. Even though it has inherited memories, the beast does not have the same pride as Barta. The perception of him as a prosecutor was slim.
What the beast possesses is the authority of a king and the arrogance of being at the top of all beasts.
It is not just the arrogance of the weak. You could call it a luxury that a strong person, a being at the top of the food chain, should have. The King of Demonic Beasts had such power.
Kaaaaaaaa!
The animal’s body, which was originally supposed to be crude with a crude frame and filled with junk, has now been brought closer to perfection by the authority of the forgotten gods. It has enough power to rival Barta’s body.
A body that is incredibly strong. perfect body.
What the beast performs with that body are sword techniques that remain in my memory. Although it does not understand the techniques of swordsmanship, the beast has a body that can imitate the swordsmanship.
Kang, Kang. Kaaaaaaaa!
So, as the beast was swinging the sword, it felt a deep sense of discomfort. This is because the person in front of you is not pushed away. A person who seems to be able to be kicked away just by touching him does not fall.
Kaaaaaaaa!
The sound of swords clashing against each other rang out for a long time.
At first glance, the beast and Draka seem to be like each other. But this standoff will not last long.
A sword with superior physical abilities and an extremely heavy sword.
The beastly blow created by the two interlocking shook Draka’s body. She made the fire that was lit with life as firewood shake.
Wow.
Every time the swords collided, a loud sound rang out from Draka’s fingers holding the sword and from his ankles standing on the ground. Blood burst out from the wounds where the demonic beasts scratched and bitten.
Blood flows. Life is slipping away.
Draka saw the fire burning inside me wavering endlessly. He felt death approaching.
‘iced coffee.’
but.
‘I see it, I see it, I see it…’
Still, Draka’s eyes do not waver. Pupils dilated to their limit are even creepy. Those eyes do not see the beast in front of them. What Draka sees is the path of the sword he draws.
The path of the sword, one’s life, the sword road.
Draka was immersed in the sword he was swinging.
I only saw the path where the sword should be swung. All you can look at is your own path. Other than that, the secondary things are of no value to Draka.
‘No one, no one can interfere.’
A self-righteous and selfish person.
He reached this level because he believed in his own path and had no doubts. The ghost saw the flames of my life burning for the last time.
A road of burning fire with a terrible stench.
In Draka’s eyes, the path of the sword that started burning and then turned to ash was visible. That’s cool. That would be his final blow. Draka put his foot down.
A land that rings loudly.
Draka’s sword moved.
Faster than ever, rougher than ever, more fierce than ever. Finally, the sword energy that soared fiercely like a blazing fire.
A difficult sword.
The ghost’s sword moved.
There was no name given to the technology. This is because Draka could not find a name to give to his life. The moment Draka prepared to deliver the final blow of his life, the beast inadvertently stepped back.
I took a step back because I lost momentum.
The beast is angry at the fact that it has taken a step back. The beast also grabs the sword. He recalled the sword of a sword that remained more powerful than any other memory.
···Ganikalt van Galatric.
The King of Demon Beasts imitates the swordsman’s last strike. Therefore, the sword strike of the beast is more perfect than anything else. It is an incredibly beautiful road. It has to be that way.
The strongest swordsman is a sword path that imitates the path taken by the first and noblest warrior. A road that cannot help but be beautiful.
——————
faqwiki.us
Join our Discord for new chapter updates!
https://discord.com/invite/xr7SxG5T6V
——————
What meets that path is the path that Draka has walked. The path of a ghost is insignificant compared to the path of the sword. However, the moment the road collides, what is pushed away is the sword wielded by the beast.
···If the current situation had been observed by Barta, the king of demonic beasts rather than beasts, he would most likely have snorted. And with contempt he will say to the beast: What value is there in a sword that has nothing in it?
Ka, ga, ga, ga, ga, each!
The wild sword that didn’t even have a name overwhelmed the beast’s sword. Pushing away the beast’s sword, Draka’s sword moved forward by a span. The sword traced a low trajectory and clawed at the beast’s legs.
Wow.
The beast’s right leg fell off. A rough cut surface, as if it had been torn off. Stumbling, the beast swung its sword again while losing its balance. Draka did not dodge that sword.
Suddenly, Draka’s right arm fell off.
Holding the sword with one hand, Draka dug in one step further. He swung his sword like that. He tore off the beast’s right arm, which was holding the sword.
Throwing in.
The beast’s right arm and great sword fell to the ground along with a surge of blood. The moment the sword was released, the beast’s left arm moved.
Quack!
The beast’s grip grasped Draka’s head. The long, extended nail dug into Draka’s eye socket, causing half of Draka’s vision to turn red.
Okay.
Just as the beast was about to explode Draka’s head with its force, Draka’s sword cut off the beast’s left arm. Draka took a light step towards the arms of the beast that had lost both of its arms.
A hard sword, and a soft sword.
To finish his unfinished sword journey, to mark the end, Draka swung his sword. Maybe his own life.
Ka-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga!
Even the last one is not simple.
It’s noisy, messy, and extremely rough. It is the same sword from the beginning until the end. The ghost’s sword split the beast’s head in half and then went further, dividing its body in half.
Suddenly.
The human sword cut down disaster.
Human persistence led to disaster.
3.
“Cow,” the King of Demon Beasts knelt down. The demon king has fallen, but Draka still stands with his feet on the ground. His eyes looked beyond.
The road opened when the king of demons fell.
Beyond that road lies an apostate.
The enemy who took everything from him, the enemy he had been chasing his whole life, was there. But Draka realized. He knew he couldn’t go any further.
The time given to you is over.
Even though I knew this would happen, I swung my sword.
Why did you make that choice? Why did he throw his life away on this stage, even though he knew that he would not be able to reach the enemy in front of him? Draka’s answer to that question was the same as always.
···This is probably the most efficient way.
Draka looked back.
There is a blade that will reach disaster. It is a blade forged by gray. Draka uses any means or purpose to achieve his goal. As always, Draka is only judging.
Sending that blade to an apostate would be the most fatal variable for the apostate.
It’s a shame that he can’t take revenge with his own hands, but humans who realize that the time given to them is limited ultimately make choices. Draka made a choice, and he was paying the price.
“······.”
Rak looked at Draka.
Draka looked at Rak.
“You, why…”
“This is not a path opened for you.”
Draka interrupted Rak.
“Just as the gray used me, I will only use you. “I think it would be more helpful to send you there intact rather than me going there.”
It is just a result of judgment.
Draka muttered and lightly waved his arm. Draka threw the sword, which he had not let go until the last moment, at Lark. The sword, which was hovering in the air, landed at Lark’s feet with a thud.
“Take it.”
That is Draka’s life and demigod.
For a swordsman, the sword is part of the soul.
“It will be helpful somewhere.”
Draka muttered and pointed the way with his now free hand. The path he paved by sacrificing his life.
“Go, Shinsung.”
Lark wordlessly pulled out the sword stuck at his feet. A sword stained with blood. With his sword strapped to his waist, Lark briefly raised his sword. I pay my respects to a swordsman who has reached the highest level, not to a human called Draka.
As Lark passed by Draka at the end of the sword ceremony, Natida stopped for a moment next to Draka.
“······.”
Natida looked at Draka in silence.
A man who sacrificed his life to wield a sword. The person in front of me is like an empty shell. A human being facing death. He asked a question to the person.
“Do you have anything to say?”
“Be sure to kill me.”
The ghost answered that question.
“This is the life I gave up for that purpose.”
Until the end, humans chose to be ghosts.
After losing his territory and losing his daughter, he longed to be a ghost who only wanted revenge, not a weak human who had lost everything.
“certainly···.”
Natida passed by the mumbling Draka. Draka, who was looking at the back of the two people moving in front of her, slowly dropped her arms.
···His stage is over.
The end of the stage, the finale, the long-awaited destruction.
The fire burning inside Draka went out silently. The lights go out and all that remains is darkness. Draka’s eyes closed in the silent darkness.
What came to mind at the last moment was my daughter’s face.
That was the scene that the human who longed to be a ghost could not let go until the very end. The human closed his eyes, remembering his daughter’s face. Those eyes will never open again.
That is.
It was the end of a man who wished he was a ghost.
fantasy,
