The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 191: Dealing with Demonic Arts

The sunset crept closer to night.

Throughout the mansion now shrouded in twilight, hate-filled shouts and the death throes of dying men echoed like a macabre chorus.

"Die! Just die already!"

"GAAAAH!"

Some swung their blades wildly, no longer able to distinguish friend from foe.

'Their minds have already shattered.'

Look at them—men so desperate to live they wet themselves, bleeding out while clinging to this place like ghosts, no longer caring about sides.

'How futile life and death can be.'

"Wounded to the rear! Don’t throw your lives away needlessly!"

Yet Nagan, his voice hoarse from shouting, somehow kept rallying his men.

"Lord Nagan! Fall back!"

"Shut up! Who’s worrying about who here? I could still fight better than you with just one limb left."

If not for Nagan—dragging back the injured, yanking back those who charged ahead, even kicking retreating men forward—the defensive line would’ve collapsed long ago.

This was the wisdom of a man who’d survived countless battlefields. He knew this was the only way to keep his forces from breaking entirely.

"You there."

I pointed at a sharp-faced man who looked like Nagan’s adjutant.

"Light the torches. At this rate, our own men will get caught in the chaos."

"...Yes."

Used to taking orders, he hurried off without question.

"Good."

The encroaching darkness, which had been gaining ground inch by inch, was pushed back by human firelight.

'Any later, and chasing down deserters would’ve been impossible.'

In this twilight hour between dog and wolf, men reduced to beasts bared fang-like blades.

Only the strongest wolf would survive by tearing out its brethren’s throats.

'Zizek. Gareth.'

The two still held their ground, rallying allies.

"Who the hell are these guys?!"

"Just kill them!"

One of the unnaturally enhanced officers, eyes half-mad, lunged at Gareth.

"Hng!"

A single exchange darkened Gareth’s expression.

'He’s strong too.'

Under the bizarrely powerful flurry, Gareth began losing ground.

"Not happening."

Shiiing!

My slash struck true, sending the officer skidding back.

"Hey, Sir Gareth! Still warming up?"

"Tch. My old bones ache brawling with youngsters these days."

Gareth grinned through gritted teeth, reigniting his fighting spirit.

"Hah, thanks. Caught my breath now."

"Don’t overdo it. These bastards are clearly on something."

"Haha. No plans to embarrass myself twice."

Gareth’s stance shifted to an impenetrable defensive form.

'Reliable as ever.'

A knight’s ironclad defense wouldn’t be easily broken.

'The line won’t fall yet.'

Most battles are lost when formations break first. As long as ours held, we hadn’t lost.

So like a battlefield conductor, I observed from the rear, intervening with precise slashes to steady the defense.

Because—

'No one but me can handle their leader.'

And after being checked by me, that leader had withdrawn to assess the situation.

'Come out. I’ll be your opponent.'

A duel between commanders to decide the battle—my favorite kind of fight.

'From their perspective, this won’t end unless they take me down.'

So he had to face me. I’d just wait patiently.

---

"What the hell are you?"

Only when both sides were exhausted, casualties mounting, did the enemy leader finally step forward.

"...Who are you people? Why interfere?"

A man with a cold face, lean but sturdy frame, and eyes devoid of warmth.

"Now you want to talk? How amusing."

I scoffed.

"Do you even know whose plans you’re disrupting?"

"Whose?"

"The future leader of the Bisakino Brotherhood."

"This is a funny guy. You stab your own family in the back and act like you're going to be the head, yet you're acting important like you're doing something great?"

"Stand down now, or join us. Do that, and I might forgive your interference."

'Oh?' I smirked.

"Buying time? How pathetic."

The man chuckled dryly.

"Losses are too heavy. With you on our side, victory is assured. That’s why I’m offering."

"Honest, aren’t you?"

He flicked blood from his blade and approached. His men parted to clear a path.

"You’re not in the hierarchy either. Who are you to command Bisakino Brotherhood officers?"

"I am Lord Huten’s direct subordinate. Caleb."

I glanced at Nagan.

"Know that name?"

"...Never heard it."

"Well, well."

I gestured at the black-clad enigma.

"Strange, isn’t it? A supposed right-hand man no one’s seen before?"

With theatrical flair, I pressed further.

"Here to devour the Bisakino Brotherhood from the outside? Whose spy are you? You dare mock us?"

"...!"

A ripple of unease spread through his men.

"Quite the mouth. But who are you to call me suspicious?"

Unfazed, Caleb turned my words against me.

"Brothers, anyone recognize this man?"

"......"

"Who are you to bring Zizek here and interfere? Planning to puppet him and take over?"

A decent counter, but my response was simple.

"Childish brat. Parroting my words? What are you, a myna bird?"

"Such foul language."

"You want polite honorifics from me, dumbass?"

I masked my Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique mana and obscured its origins.

"If you’re so curious, leave me just a tongue after cutting off my limbs. I’ll answer then."

Caleb bared his teeth in a grin.

"Gladly."

Boom!

A wave of sinister energy erupted, felling several barely-standing men.

'Pressure? What is this?'

No time to analyze—I met his crimson slash head-on.

"Hoh."

Solid impact. He’s going all out.

'But he’s a cut above the other officers.'

Raw power and speed weren’t his only advantages.

"Pathetic. Why walk into the lion’s den?"

Caleb’s hollow laughter surrounded me as he circled at blinding speeds, thrusting, slashing, hacking.

I blended defensive techniques honed against royal guards with knightly sword principles to counter his eerie style.

'Fast. Heavy. Overflowing with killing intent.'

Shockingly, Caleb displayed combat prowess nearing mid fifth tier.

'Before Ulbhild’s training, this would’ve been tough.'

Hiding my full strength while obscuring my techniques would’ve been difficult then.

'This level could contend for the Bisakino Brotherhood’s top spot.'

Just how strong was Huten then? Could the aging Godfather withstand this?

...Where was Huten, if he sent Caleb here?

"You scheming bastards."

Without hesitation, I unleashed a reforged technique from Azure Sea Moon Shadow Swordsmanship, infused with Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique’s mana.

"?!

Sensing danger, Caleb nimbly evaded—but—

Whoosh!

One of the executives standing behind him couldn't dodge in time. His torso was cleanly sliced diagonally, and he died.

"Look at this?"

It was a futile end, as if his berserk rampage had been a lie. It was like cutting down a wooden doll.

"What the hell did you do to those guys?"

No matter how I looked at it, they weren't normal.

"Just by looking, it seems like they're the type who exhaust their latent power to explode with strength momentarily."

I frowned.

"Aren't those the kind of techniques that suspicious cults or idiotic secret societies develop to somehow use up and discard their weak members?"

The underworld was originally a muddy place where all sorts of strange characters gathered. That's why I had faced enemies like these a few times before.

"They talk about it like it's a secret art, but in the end, it's just a stupid act that shortens their lifespan. You probably stepped forward because you anticipated that their strength would soon run out."

"……!"

Was I right on the mark? A sinister smile appeared on Caleb's previously cold face.

"Look at that smirk, it's creepy."

I pointed at Caleb.

"You call that giving them power?"

"What. Since they are 'lowly' beings, they only receive power of a lowly level."

"You're more self-absorbed than I thought. Is that also a side effect?"

I scoffed.

"Act like a mystic, you pathetic fool."

"You know too much."

Murderous intent flared in Caleb's eyes.

"I must kill you here."

Caleb glared. Then—

Thump!

My body stopped abruptly, as if I were a puppet caught by an invisible string.

"?!"

I muttered in confusion.

"What the hell?"

What kind of trick was this? Could it be that he was a mage after all?

'That can't be right.'

While I was racking my brain,

"Die."

An unavoidable sword strike flew towards my neck.

'Whoa, at this rate, I'm completely done for?'

The fleeting moment the blade flew felt as long as eternity.

'What should I do?'

If I don't come up with something, I'll be hit. I never imagined he had hidden such a trump card.

'Should I surround myself with the strongest reinforced aura I can muster?'

But I hadn't yet mastered a protective art strong enough to block a sword strike swung by a swordsman of the same caliber. Unless I had mastered the Ink Soul Sacred Shadow Technique.

'Damn it, why am I so calm? This isn't the time for this.'

I muttered to myself in the slowed time, then suddenly realized.

'Ah!'

Come to think of it, it wasn't my whole body that had stopped. I could feel the sensation of my tongue touching the roof of my mouth.

'Screw it!'

I bit my tongue quite hard. The metallic taste of blood and the pain jolted my senses. And—

'It moves!'

The stinging pain freed my body from the paralysis.

Then time flowed normally again, and Caleb's sword drew closer.

"Hmph!"

Without a moment's hesitation, I used Falling Dragon Strike and rolled across the floor.

"?!"

Then, I grabbed Caleb's ankle, which was off-balance after his confident strike missed, and twisted it completely.

"Kyahhh!"

It was a joint lock using the principle of 'softness' from the Flowing Cloud Thunder Fist.

Caleb's posture collapsed from the pain of his ankle being properly twisted—

"Die, you bastard!"

I threw the sword I was holding and infused my mana into the bracelet sword.

"You bastard, you coward—"

His ankle was twisted, and Caleb, whose body was wide open as he tried to parry the incoming sword, cried out urgently.

Whoosh!

He rolled across the floor, having barely avoided instant death at the cost of one arm.

"Kuh, kuh-heuk."

Poor guy, he instantly became one-armed and one-legged.

I belatedly replied to Caleb, who was wriggling like a bug.

"Cowardly my ass. You're the last person who should be saying that, aren't you?"

He was nothing short of a walking embodiment of selfish reasoning.

"Damn it, retreat!"

"Who said you could?"

I tried to finish him off immediately, but Caleb's escape involved something beyond my expectations.

"You bastards!"

Four or five executives threw themselves at me, clinging to me desperately even as their arms and legs were cut off and their heads were severed.

"Wow, these tenacious bastards."

In the meantime, another executive hoisted Nagan onto his back and fled like the wind.

"These guys are unbelievably cold-blooded."

I clicked my tongue as I watched them abandon even their own men and flee, as if telling those left behind to fend for themselves.

"Are you alright?"

Zizek and Gareth, covered in blood, rushed towards me.

"I'm fine. Just bit my tongue a little."

"Huh? When?"

"At the end, he used some weird sorcery, so I bit my tongue to barely escape."

"Ah, that explains it."

"Anyway."

I looked at Nagan.

"This doesn't feel right. What happened to the Godfather?"

"……I don't know. I sent a messenger before the fight started, but there's still no news."

It was an ominous answer.

***

Huten roughly wiped the blood from his hands and read the letter the Godfather had been holding.

-Ghir of Svaltalfar will come to kill Huten tomorrow night. Organize your stance and make it clear. If there is no reply, it will be considered defiance, and everything that stands in the way will be killed.

"Hahahaha."

Wasn't this an arrogant and utterly unreasonable notification? Huten let out a frustrated laugh and tore up the letter.

Ghir Svaltalfar, was it?

Huten knew the name.

'This guy is someone even I would have trouble handling easily.'

And tomorrow night, it's too soon. Did he ride a griffin or something instead of a horse?

'Time is running out.'

If I become his target right now, my plans will be ruined.

'It's alright. If I just bring back Nagan's head in a feint attack, the Godfather's faction, having lost two heads, will have no choice but to collapse.'

In the meantime, he could hide in a safe house after putting Caleb and the other executives forward. If he became the new Godfather of the Bisakino Brotherhood, he wouldn't need to fear Svaltalfar's retaliation either.

"……Is there still no news from Caleb?"

Silence returned instead of an answer, and Huten's eyebrows arched upwards.

"Answer me."

"W-well, that is…"

His subordinate hesitated before answering.

"News just came in that Lord Caleb was ambushed by an unidentified swordsman, suffered severe injuries, and retreated……."

"What did you say?"

Huten's face twisted in anger.

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]