Chapter 1136
"Shall we see what we've gained?"
Raon settled himself atop the miniature form of Wrath, pulling up the logs of his recent achievements.
[A monumental deed has been accomplished.]
[You have peered into the essence of <Death>.]
[All primary statistics have risen by 100 points.]
He scanned the text at a measured pace, his eyes anchoring on the second notification.
'Contemplated death?'
The mention of a "monumental deed" was a familiar sight, something he had encountered enough times to grow accustomed to, yet this specific reference to understanding death was entirely unprecedented.
'It must be a result of seeing through Derus Robert.'
It was logical to assume this popped up because Glenn’s intervention allowed him to pull a fragment of Derus Robert’s Soul Sword into his own spirit, granting him a glimpse into that villain's history.
'Wait, there’s more to it.'
Raon moistened his lips as he moved to the fourth line of the system report.
[The unique trait <death aura> has been manifested.]
This wasn't just a byproduct of shared memories; the very essence of the death aura Derus wielded had taken root as a personal trait. With a subtle flick of his will, Raon drew the murky energy from the depths of his soul toward his smallest finger. A flickering, obsidian spark—fragile as a dying coal—shimmered at his nail.
'Death aura.'
Even in its current, weakened state, it was the unmistakable power that Derus had utilized.
'How ironic. I already have the <Blade of Death>, and now I possess its source.'
He found it genuinely startling to obtain a power he had never sought.
—Wait...
Wrath, who had been slumped over in exhaustion, snapped his eyes open at the sight of the dark flame dancing on Raon's fingertip.
—What is this! Why do you have the aura of death!
The small demon scrambled backward, jumping to his feet in alarm.
'It appears the Soul Sword of Derus Robert was absorbed by me instead of the other way around.'
Raon toyed with the spark, explaining that when Glenn severed the connection of the Soul Sword, the energy seemed to have flowed into him.
—This is madness...
Wrath’s jaw dropped in sheer shock.
—Instead of being consumed, you devoured it? What kind of monster are you!
His plump cheeks quivered, clearly struggling to reconcile Raon's nature with common sense.
'It's likely useless for now, though.'
Raon shook his head, snuffed out the black ember, and sighed.
'It doesn't react when I try to feed it my own aura.'
Unlike his other techniques, this death aura remained stagnant regardless of how much energy he channeled into it. Since it was a foreign power born from Derus, standard mana didn't seem to be the proper fuel.
—You dimwit...
Wrath sneered, his expression shifting from shock to condescension.
—Think about the name! It is the aura of death. To make it grow, you obviously need to witness the end of life!
He scrunched his nose, looking at Raon as if he were explaining basic arithmetic to a slow child.
'Witnessing death, you say...'
—You either have to take a life or stand at the very edge of your own grave. Those are the only paths.
Wrath gave a definitive nod, insisting these were the sole methods to refine such a power.
'That follows a certain logic.'
Raon conceded, feeling the dark energy retreat into his subconscious.
'I appreciate the insight.'
He offered a casual wave to Wrath, noting that the demon was surprisingly helpful.
—Wait? Noooooo!
Wrath let out a piercing wail as the realization hit him: he had just provided invaluable advice.
—You! How did you manipulate this Great King! I never intended to assist you!
He shook his tiny fists, screaming for Raon to break whatever mental spell he had cast.
'I didn't do a thing; you just can't help but talk.'
Raon gave a small laugh at Wrath’s indignant scowl. It was amusing how a creature so desperate to flaunt his knowledge could claim he was being brainwashed.
—I will make you pay for this!
Wrath ground his teeth with a loud, metallic screech, promising future vengeance.
'Suit yourself.'
Raon turned back to the remaining notifications.
[The level of <Array Analysis> has risen.]
[The level of <Aura of Death Resistance> has risen.]
[The level of <Wrath Release> has risen.]
[The level of <Flame Overcoming Death> has risen.]
[The level of <Blade of Death> has risen.]
[The level of <Divine Power Resistance> has risen.]
[The level of <Heavenly Murder> has risen.]
[The level of <Light Attribute Resistance> has risen.]
[The level of <Crisis Detection> has risen.]
A wave of satisfaction washed over him. These were all practical tools for the inevitable conflict ahead.
—You insufferable...
Wrath's face soured as he read the list of improvements.
—Why is Array Analysis going up? And why are Divine Power and Light Resistance growing as separate categories!
He hammered his soft, round fists against the floating text, complaining that the logic of the world made no sense.
'I suppose I earned it through the struggle.'
Raon nudged the complaining demon aside to view the final entry.
[The title <One Who Contemplates Death> has been acquired.]
It had been quite some time since he’d gained an entirely new title rather than just an upgrade. However, the designation was cryptic.
'Let's look at the specifics.'
He focused on the title to reveal its hidden text. <One Who Contemplates Death>: A title bestowed upon one who walks alongside death without falling under its shadow. Raon’s brow furrowed as he processed the words.
'What is that supposed to imply?'
Even after a second reading, the meaning remained elusive. While the part about not being corrupted seemed beneficial, it didn't specify any tangible power.
'Wrath.'
Raon directed the demon's attention toward the description.
'Do you have any idea what this refers to?'
—...Hmph.
Wrath stared at the words for a long moment before letting out a sharp breath.
—I refuse to tell you!
He snapped his head away, crossing his arms in a display of stubbornness.
'Interesting.'
Raon watched the back of Wrath’s head and let a smirk play on his lips.
'You don't know. If you did, you would have already bragged about it.'
It was a safe bet. Given Wrath’s compulsive need to demonstrate his superior intellect—as seen moments ago with the death aura—he would have explained it instantly if he held the answer.
—You brat...
Wrath’s lip trembled and his face flushed, looking as though he’d been struck where it hurt most.
'Before you get angry, look at the last one.'
Raon pointed to the final message lingering in the air.
[You have dominated <Wrath>.]
[All primary statistics have risen by 1 point.]
He gave a warning gesture, suggesting Wrath avoid making the same mistake again.
—Forget it! I don't care anymore!
Instead of backing down, Wrath’s temper flared even hotter, and he lunged at Raon with renewed desperation. Fwoooosh! Predictably, the outcome didn't change.
[You have dominated <Wrath>.]
[All primary statistics have risen by 1 point.]
After two full-strength attempts ended in total failure, Wrath collapsed into a heap on the floor, his energy completely spent.
—Sniff...
He pressed his face into the ground, letting out pathetic little sounds of despair.
'I'm going to train. Try to stay quiet.'
Raon stood up and offered a dismissive wave.
'Time is a luxury I don't have.'
He needed to bridge the gap between himself and Derus before their final confrontation. With the rewards processed, it was time to immerse himself in his craft. He drew Heavenly Drive with a sharp, metallic ring, ready to begin his forms.
[<death aura> has grown slightly.]
A small notification appeared, noting progress in the trait he had scavenged from Derus.
'Wait...?'
Raon looked back at the sobbing demon on the ground.
'Is the aura of death linked to the Devildom somehow?'
He squinted, sensing the minute shift in the dark energy within him.
'Or perhaps...'
By the following evening, Raon had completed his drills and made his way to the residence of the Ragged Saint Federick.
"The room on the right."
Federick didn't bother with pleasantries, simply pointing the way as if he had been expecting Raon's arrival.
"My thanks."
Raon offered a respectful nod before entering the designated room. Inside, he found Sylvia and Edgar attending to Rector, who was perched on the side of his cot.
"Father, try some of this. These oranges are quite sweet."
"She's right. This town is surprisingly well-stocked. Two different Bead Ice Cream parlors in the middle of the north? That's the real mark of civilization."
Sylvia was busy preparing fruit while Edgar chatted aimlessly, trying to lighten the mood.
"Ah, you've arrived."
Rector acknowledged him with a wave of his sole remaining hand, noting the time that had passed.
"Phew..."
Raon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Rector looked significantly better; his color had returned, and his strength seemed to be recovering. The fear of permanent, debilitating trauma began to fade.
"How are you feeling?"
He asked the question directly, needing to hear it from the source.
"I'm stable. The healers say your field medicine saved my life."
Rector gave a faint, weary smile, crediting Raon for his survival.
"You really should be thanking your son and daughter-in-law more."
Edgar leaned back with his arms crossed, acting smug.
"Son and daughter-in-law?"
Rector squinted at Edgar, unimpressed.
"Raon is the one who saved me. Why does that involve you?"
"Because Sylvia and I are the reason Raon exists! She’s the one who raised him to be so capable!"
Edgar huffed, essentially arguing the "chicken and the egg" defense.
"Honey, stop it!"
Sylvia delivered a sharp smack to Edgar’s shoulder, signaling for him to be quiet.
"Gah!"
The blow clearly carried some weight, as Edgar winced and jumped away.
"Goodness, you're still a headache even after all these years."
Rector rubbed his temples, claiming that Edgar was exhausting to deal with. Yet, despite the complaint, his eyes lacked any real bite; he seemed comforted by the normalcy.
"..."
Raon’s gaze drifted to Rector’s right side. Where a powerful limb once resided, there was now only a thick, white wrap of gauze.
'Can he truly recover from this?'
To a warrior, losing a sword arm was akin to losing a soul. Raon couldn't fathom the depth of the loss Rector was hiding.
'If the Master were here, he’d know what to say.'
Rimmer, having dealt with his own crippling injuries, would have the right words. Raon felt woefully unprepared to offer comfort.
'No, I can't keep leaning on others for this.'
Raon gripped the Wooden Ring Sword, feeling the lingering essence of Rimmer’s resolve.
'I have to handle this myself.'
He had already taken so much from his mentor. It was time to stand on his own two feet.
'If it’s him...'
The Sword Demon Rector wasn't a man who wanted pity. Raon took a steadying breath and stepped toward the aging warrior.
"Grandfather."
"Speak."
Rector looked up, giving Raon his full attention.
“The confrontation with Derus Robert is looming. It will be a horrific slaughter where the living fall and the dead are desecrated into service…”
Raon stared directly into Rector’s eyes, acknowledging the physical toll the man had already paid.
"I will need you by my side when that day comes. I am asking you to grow even stronger than you were before and stand with me in battle."
It was a brutal, perhaps even heartless request to make of a man who had just lost his arm, but Raon bowed low as he said it.
"Raon! What are you saying!"
Sylvia dropped her knife and stood up, her face pale with shock.
"Hold on! I know things are tense, but this is too much! He's still recovering!"
Edgar’s jaw dropped, realizing Raon wasn't joking.
—Are you insane? You heartless brat!
Even Wrath was stunned by Raon's cold demand.
"..."
Rector didn't look at his children. He kept his eyes locked on Raon, his expression tightening as if a surge of emotion was rising.
"Father, please don't listen to him."
"Raon is just stressed, he didn't mean it..."
Sylvia and Edgar rushed to Rector’s side, trying to shield him from the pressure.
"Stop..."
Rector raised his left hand, halting their approach.
"Hah... Hahahaha!"
He threw his head back and laughed—a deep, resonant sound that filled the room with unexpected joy.
"F-Father?"
"Are you okay?"
Edgar looked utterly bewildered.
"Ever since I woke up, everyone has looked at me like a broken relic. They tell me to sit in the corner and fade away quietly..."
Rector looked at Raon with a gaze burning with newfound purpose.
"Only my grandson sees me for who I truly am. He doesn't see a patient; he sees the Sword Demon Rector."
His voice wavered slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears of gratitude.
"Fine! This old man will cut down every obstacle in your path!"
Rector gave a firm, confident nod, telling Raon to count on him.
"I will be waiting for you."
Raon bowed again, his voice steady with trust, and then turned to leave the room without another word.
"Wait..."
"What just happened?"
Sylvia and Edgar looked back and forth between the empty doorway and the invigorated old man on the bed.
"It's quite simple."
Rector waved them off, a small smile on his face.
"You were worried about Rector the man. Raon was speaking to the warrior. Hearing his request... it reminded me that I’m not ready to stop being a swordsman."
He stared at the door, his heart full.
"You were right, Edgar. I truly am blessed with an incredible grandson."
"Well..."
Edgar rubbed the back of his neck and muttered under his breath.
"I actually said I was a great father, but I'll take it..."
Raon made his way toward the fifth training field, his mind already shifting back to his goals.
—Hey!
Wrath materialized in front of him, blocking his path.
—Explain yourself! What was that back there!
He gestured wildly, demanding to know the logic behind Raon's behavior.
'He has spent his entire existence as a man of the blade.'
Raon remembered the hollow look in Rector’s eyes when he first walked in.
'Losing his dominant arm and his vitality... everyone who came to see him only offered pity. They told him to give up and rest.'
—I suppose that’s true.
'But he wasn't ready to quit. The fire hadn't gone out; it was just smothered by everyone else's expectations.'
Rector might be aged and scarred, but his spirit was still sharp. Raon had simply given that spirit a reason to burn again.
—I see...
Wrath looked at him with a mix of confusion and newfound respect.
—How did someone as socially stunted as you figure that out?
He shook his head, unable to grasp Raon's intuition.
'Maybe I just understand warriors better than I understand people.'
Raon was about to continue when a figure appeared in the distance.
"Lord Raon!"
Chad, the head of the Shadow Agents, came sprinting toward him, looking frantic.
"What's happened? Is it Derus again?"
Raon’s expression darkened, the memory of that man's face fresh in his mind.
"No! It's even bigger than that..."
Chad gasped for air, his words coming out in a rush.
"A holy crusade has ignited within the Suphren Holy Kingdom!"
