The second barrage subsided.
Lucas, the beak-rider of the Thunderbird, was able to grasp the rough situation through shared vision with the beast. Maschenny had suffered a severe injury to her back, and she and Hoaquin had suddenly vanished sowhere. That didn't matter to him.
What mattered most to him was this—Maschenny had been hurt.
Crackle—
"...You bastards..."
He ground his teeth as sparks erupted from his entire body. Above his head, massive storm clouds began to gather out of nowhere.
The Commander, Cheon, rushed in at lightning speed to stop Lucas, seizing the opening Lucas showed while preparing a large technique.
"…!"
Lucas looked startled, and in that instant Cheon felt victory within reach. It was the first ti the ever-relaxed Lucas had shown emotional agitation, and Cheon did not miss it.
"Family, and emotions. Those things are always nothing but weaknesses."
Mocking Lucas with those words, Cheon unleashed his sword art. Just as Cheon's blade was about to carve deeply across Lucas's chest—Lucas's lips curled upward instead.
"And a stupid head that can't even notice such a cheap trick is also a weakness."
"…What?!"
Rumble—
From the vast storm clouds, dozens of violent thunderbolts crashed down upon Cheon, paralyzing him and canceling the sword technique he had been activating.
Cheon had never fought the Khun family, who could summon storm clouds on the scale that covered an entire stronghold, and he had underestimated their nature—an irreparable mistake.
Cheon hurriedly tried to swing his sword again, but—
Kiiing—
"…Reverse Flow Control!"
During their prolonged fight, Lucas's lightning-attribute shinsu had seeped into Cheon's body multiple tis, making him an easy target for Reverse Flow Control, which restricted his movents. And so Cheon was forced to face Lucas, who was now swinging his spear while emitting chilling killing intent.
Wide-Area Technique – Half-Moon Severing Thunder
Lucas adjusted his grip on the spear, densely packed with thunder, and swung it in a half-moon arc. With a piercing whistle as the spear cut through the air, violent lightning burst forth.
Cheon, standing directly before Lucas, could do nothing but take the full force of both the terrifying spear and the devastating thunder.
Krrrrrrash—
"Urgh!"
Cheon vomited blood as his chest was deeply slashed, and Lucas imdiately chained into his next technique without pause.
Lucas-Style Thunder Spear Art – Couched Lance
Gripping his spear in a thrusting stance, Lucas concentrated lightning at its tip and charged straight at Cheon. Cheon hurriedly twisted his sword to block, but with his body already grievously injured by the previous attack, it was hopeless.
Thud—
"…!"
Lucas's spear pierced straight through Cheon, and the lightning discharged from it brutally scorched Cheon's body.
Crackle—!
"Gah..."
Unable even to maintain flight, Cheon plumted straight to the ground.
Lucas looked at him briefly with a calm expression, then turned his gaze toward the decisive weapon.
Veins bulged, and it felt as if his blood were flowing backward.
"How dare you—how dare you touch my sister!!"
Crackle—
Rumble!
The storm clouds covering the stronghold began to churn violently, and then a bolt of lightning of trendous force struck Lucas himself. Even as he took the hit, Lucas slowly absorbed the power and compressed it into his spear.
At last, the lightning that had filled the surroundings with blue light faded, and Lucas's technique was complete. Having compressed an overwhelming amount of lightning into a single spear blade, Lucas leveled his weapon at the decisive weapon.
Lucas-Style Thunder Spear Art: Transcendent Technique – Thunderbolt Shattering Heaven and Earth
As he thrust the spear with all his might, the world was once again dyed blue.
Krrrrash—!
Lightning vast enough to blanket an entire floor, compressed to its absolute limit, crashed directly into the decisive weapon they were riding—Le Epíros.
Blue light filled the tower's ceiling, and overwhelming lightning battered Le Epíros without rcy. Taking a direct hit from a Rank 78 transcendent technique—worse yet, an electrical attack, to which machines were especially vulnerable—Le Epíros could not withstand the damage. With a sound like sothing collapsing, it began to descend slowly toward the ground.
Exhausted from the recoil of such a massive technique, Lucas dragged his weary body to the floor just beneath the topmost level, where his beloved Thunderbird lay.
"Kiiee…"
Ar, the Thunderbird, had taken two direct hits from Le Epíros's bombardnt. Half of its body was lost, wrapped in electricity as it slowly regenerated. Lucas gently stroked Ar without pause.
"Kiieeeng…"
"No, Ar. You protected Maschenny no matter what. Without you, it would've been impossible. You did well."
"Kiieee!"
Lucas placed a hand on Ar's beak and drew the creature back into his own body. Once fully recovered, Ar would soar with him again.
"Haa… seriously, that sister of mine never listens…"
Boom—!
"...!!"
At that mont, an imnse, crushing presence pressed down upon the Baekwha Sword Palace.
That sensation from earlier—it was unmistakably Arie Hon.
[Hear , all. Arie Hoaquin has passed my trial. From this mont on, all of Hoaquin's cris are nullified, and he shall receive a reward befitting him from . All those within the Baekwha Sword Palace are hereby ordered to cease all combat imdiately and focus on damage recovery.]
With those words, Arie Hon's presence vanished, and Lucas let out a breath of relief.
"Haa… that monstrous kid really pulled it off."
The realization that this absurdly large-scale trial was finally over made Lucas's legs feel weak.
As expected, the reactions that followed Hon's declaration were varied.
Dickel and Schmitt finally sheathed their swords with sighs of relief.
"Haha, this is insane… that kid Hoaquin actually passed the trial."
"It's Hoaquin, you know… heh. Still, I'm just as glad. I can hardly believe it. At last, this trial of mutual slaughter is over."
By sheer luck, the captain of Execution Unit One had survived—but rather than relief, he was plunged into despair.
"Damn it! Where are the Elders?! Where are they?!"
"They don't seem to be in the main house! What should we do?!"
"What do you think?! Find them imdiately! Contact the Elders at once!"
anwhile, Arie Cain, captain of Execution Unit Two, had recovered enough to stand and move. He slowly rose atop the collapsed floor.
"...…"
As he silently stared into the air, the swordsn of Unit Two approached him.
"Captain, what are our orders?"
"...…."
"…Captain?"
Cain turned without a word and pointed to the most capable swordsman after himself.
"You're the captain now."
"…What?"
With that, Cain turned his back and began trudging toward the outside of the Baekwha Sword Palace. The Unit Two swordsn, flustered, tried to stop him.
"Captain! What are you saying all of a sudden?! At least get treatnt—"
"I'll handle that myself. From now on, you're the captain. Tell the Elders I thank them for everything."
"At least tell us where you're going!"
Cain paused, then looked up at the tower's ceiling.
Drip—several raindrops fell onto his face. Soon, dozens, hundreds, thousands of droplets began to fall across the ravaged ground, turning into a downpour that soaked the 100th floor.
Shhhhh—
As he stood silently in the rain, Cain finally answered his subordinate's question.
"I'm going to my family. To my only sister. She said it was… our hotown."
"...…"
The swordsn of Unit Two could not respond. And with that, Cain disappeared into the rain.
With the sole exception of Cain, the reactions of the Execution Force's were largely the sa.
Brainwashed by the Elders since childhood, they imdiately began moving in groups to search for them once the trial ended.
The military faction of the family that had sided with the Elders lanted the loss of stability and balance, yet took solace in the fact that the Elders' tyranny was finally over.
The sa held true for the governors, branch heads, and high-ranking Arie who had supported the Elders.
The worry that the family would be shaken for the ti being, and the joy that the Elders would soon be expelled.
Of course, everyone who had sided with Hoaquin was simply drunk on happiness.
They believed that chaos was rely a preliminary stage for developnt. Between the military faction and so branch heads and governors who had supported the Elders in pursuit of stability and balance, and those who had supported Hoaquin in pursuit of change, only ti would be able to tell who was right.
Still, most people were quietly pleased by the re fact that the Elders had lost. Naturally, the defeated Elders themselves felt nothing of the sort.
"...We lost."
"Haa..."
Their atmosphere was already that of a funeral house. They had withdrawn from the Baekwha Sword Palace and were controlling the situation only through avatars while remaining in their safe house, but in the end, everything had failed.
Amid the heavy silence, one Elder muttered as if speaking to himself, loud enough for all to hear.
"…So what happens to us now?"
"In truth, Father said nothing at all about what would happen if we lost."
"…Then does that an only Hoaquin's cris were erased, and our rule remains intact?"
At one Elder's hopeful words, the mood began to lift slightly. Everyone had simply assud that, just as Hoaquin would face "death or life imprisonnt" if he failed the trial, the Elders would receive similar treatnt if they lost—but Hon had not said a single word about it.
"…Yes. Father truly said nothing."
"He acknowledged our abilities. He did the sa last ti."
"Then really… nothing has changed?"
"If he's still saying nothing, then the proxy rule remains with us—"
"Do you really think so?"
"...!!"
At that mont, a voice from afar shattered the Elders' wishful thinking in an instant. Startled, they turned toward the darkness.
This was their safe house. No one other than themselves should even know its location…!
"Who goes there?! How did you get in here?!"
Rumble—
All five Elders drew their swords at once, releasing overwhelming pressure. Each Elder was a high-ranker, one of the family's core powers. As they unleashed their full strength without restraint, waves of shinsu powerful enough to kill an ordinary Regular rely by proximity spread throughout the area. Their swords were soon dyed white with shinsoo, and amid that tense standoff, the figure in the darkness finally began to approach them.
Step. Step. Step.
Footsteps drawing closer, the tallic sound of armor colliding, and at last, the owner of those signs erged from the darkness.
The Elders froze.
"Y-you are…!"
A mask-like, ornate silver helt; long white hair flowing out from between its plates; eyes faintly gleaming silver; white armor worn in pieces—and above all—
That sword.
Standing before the Elders was a single swordsman. His face was hidden behind the mask-like helt, but the sword alone was enough to tell them who he was.
"Yure…!"
The current Sword of Arie, Yure. The second-greatest sword after Arie Hon himself. The second-strongest swordsman of the Arie family had revealed himself before the Elders.
Yure did not so much as blink at the pressure the Elders emitted. Rather, he overwheld them in return. The shinsu waves they had unleashed were forcibly scattered, and before they realized it, Yure's power filled the space and pressed down upon them.
"H-how did you co here…?"
"In this family, there is nothing I do not know. Because I know everything, Father knows everything as well. Of course, He has been omniscient from the very beginning."
Shing—
Yure slowly drew his sword, Executor, and planted it into the ground to steady it. The Elders could only sweat nervously, forced to focus on every single movent he made. The "Sword of Arie" was an existence beyond their ability to oppose.
"I will now deliver Father's words."
"…!"
"My children, who have stood by since before the Great War and brought countless victories and rits to the family—your achievents in leading this family to glory in my stead cannot be denied."
"Therefore, I granted you two chances. One was overlooking your petty scheming in failing to deliver my words. The other was giving you an opportunity, through this trial, to atone for that sin."
"But you ultimately threw away your chance at redemption. You have worked hard, my children. Now—rest."
At those final words, the Elders' faces drained of all color.
As if Hon's ssage had ended, Yure's dignified voice returned to his own as he addressed the Elders.
"Father has given the authority to choose how you are to be dealt with."
"Y-Yure! We—"
"Silence."
"..."
"I will now recite your cris."
With that, Yure took out a parchnt and glanced over the densely written text upon it, clicking his tongue.
"Tsk. Too many."
Tossing the parchnt aside, Yure gripped his sword instead.
"The reason Father forgave all your actions until now was because, ultimately, they were tied to the family's interests. But this ti was different."
"For personal greed, you turned Arie direct descendants into test subjects. You handed their corpses over to Zahard's Princesses at will and interfered in their struggles. And now you even tried to leash Hoaquin, dragging matters to this point."
"What did you think you were doing, daring to fire a decisive weapon at the main house? Just how far have you dragged the family's honor into the mud?!"
With every word Yure spoke, his anger deepened. The Elders, drenched in cold sweat, tightened their grips on their swords.
Boom!
Yure's aura exploded outward, gouging the surroundings into craters. The Elders were crushed beneath his power, letting out strained groans.
"Urgh…!"
"As the Sword of Arie, I will now decide your fate!"
Yure raised his sword and pointed it at the Elders.
"Execution. That is the punishnt—and the rcy—I grant you."
"Damn it!"
The instant Yure finished speaking, the Elders swung their swords and charged him with all their might. Yure calmly watched them, only moving his blade slowly at the very mont their swords were about to reach him.
His sword, glowing pale blue-white like moonlight, pronounced judgnt.
And in the next instant, the Elders finally understood, with painful clarity, why Yure was called the "Sword of Arie."
...
100th Floor, inside the dical facility of the Workshop's main branch.
Because of its bizarre rule that only those deed worthy could receive treatnt, this facility was usually quiet—but not today.
Workshop nurses and doctors hurried back and forth in all directions, and soon an unconscious Arie boy was rushed into the facility.
"Move him, now! His condition is critical!"
A Workshop doctor in a white coat ran ahead with a frantic expression. Other doctors and nurses transferred the patient onto a bed, and in an instant countless Workshop dical devices and personnel sward in, doing everything they could to keep him alive.
"Maschenny, you should get treated too."
"I did."
"Wrapping a bandage around your back counts as treatnt?"
"It does."
"Haa… fine. Do whatever you want."
Lucas shook his head helplessly, while Maschenny looked through the glass at Hoaquin.
The patient now receiving intensive treatnt, surrounded by every kind of Workshop doctor and machine, was Hoaquin.
"Damn it! What the hell did he do to end up like this?!"
"…Honestly, it's a miracle he's still alive. Check his heart rate! Is the patient conscious?"
"Barely! Should we sedate him?"
"Do it! Start the machines!"
Whiiiiiing—
Two weeks of accumulated exhaustion from being trapped in the underground prison, internal injuries from fighting Cain, countless major and minor wounds from battling Arie rankers, the mysterious chronic illness he had been suffering from, cardiac arrest, massive blood loss, fractures—and on top of all that, a direct hit from a decisive weapon's main cannon.
It was an unbelievable list of injuries for a re Regular to survive, yet every single one of them was true. And although no one knew it yet, the rebound from forcibly making spatial movent—sothing that should have been impossible at his level—had further burdened Hoaquin's body, leaving his condition utterly catastrophic.
Just as one doctor had said earlier: it was amazing he wasn't dead already.
And yet, Hoaquin was still alive.
Maschenny frowned and bit her lip as she looked at Hoaquin undergoing treatnt, his entire body soaked in blood. Before she realized it, she was even biting her fingernails. At that mont, a voice she hadn't heard in a long ti ca from behind her.
"Maschenny!"
"Noona!"
"…?"
She turned slightly and saw Hwarang, Luf, Asensio, and others she didn't recognize approaching her.
"Where's Hoaquin?"
"There."
At Hwarang's question, Maschenny pointed toward the ward. As she did, her gaze unconsciously shifted to the woman Hwarang was carrying.
It was a familiar face.
…No way.
…Albelda?
As Maschenny tried to sort through the shock and confusion, a sudden commotion broke out in the ward where Hoaquin was being treated, making her snap her head back toward it.
Beep—beep—beep—beep—
"H-he's going into cardiac arrest!"
"What the hell is this?! What's the cause?!"
"Heart rate dropping! He's bleeding too much!"
"Damn it! …(omitted)…!"
....
The only thing that remained unchanged was that Hoaquin himself still hadn't regained consciousness.
"...…"
Maschenny looked down quietly at Hoaquin, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
The clothes that had once been soaked in blood were now clean, and aside from the bandages wrapped around various parts of his body, he looked perfectly fine.
Beep—beep—
Hoaquin had since been moved to a mansion on the 100th floor, and the diagnostic machines borrowed from the Workshop were steadily reporting that all of his vital signs were normal.
"How long are you planning to sleep…?"
As Maschenny let out a faint sigh, a knock sounded from outside the door.
The door opened, and Lucas walked in.
"Hey, little sister. How long are you going to stare at his face? Be honest—aren't I more handso?"
"Get lost. What do you want?"
"This. It's his, right?"
Thud.
Lucas set sothing down on the table: a beautiful white crown adorned with red gemstones in several places. It was the item Hoaquin always wore because he liked the design.
Sothing he'd gotten from the Crown Ga, or so he'd said.
"…How's the thunderbird?"
"Huh? Oh, that guy? Ar's fully recovered already. He's up and eating now. You should co eat later too. That… Luf, was it? He's an amazing cook."
"I'll think about it."
…Hoaquin's a good cook too.
"Oh, Maschenny."
"…?"
Lucas paused at the doorway, about to head down the stairs, then turned back to her.
"I'm heading back to my branch. I've been away too long. I am a branch head, after all."
"Do whatever you want."
Lucas gave a small chuckle and started to leave again, but this ti Maschenny stopped him.
"Wait."
"…?"
"Um…"
Avoiding his gaze, she muttered quietly,
"Thanks. For helping."
Lucas blinked a few tis in surprise, then burst out laughing.
"Ha! This is priceless. Getting thanked by a princess. While we're at it, how about calling big brother?"
"Get lost."
"As you command, hahahaha!"
While Maschenny regretted saying anything at all, Lucas laughed heartily and left in high spirits, returning to his branch.
Before long, only Hoaquin and Maschenny remained in the room again.
"...…"
No matter how intently she stared at the sleeping Hoaquin, he showed no sign of waking. He'd already been unconscious for a full week.
Still, Maschenny kept watching him.
Poke. Poke.
Growing bored, she poked his cheek with her finger. It was soft—surprisingly nice to the touch.
"Hey. Wake up."
Poke, poke.
"You found your family and you're still sleeping?"
"...…"
Naturally, there was no response.
"Haa…"
Letting out a sigh that could've been a yawn, Maschenny checked the ti on her pocket. It was already 1 a.m.
Lately… she'd been feeling a bit sleepy.
"…You'll wake up eventually."
Muttering to herself, Maschenny tried to get so sleep while still facing Hoaquin. The chair was hard, and after looking for sothing to lean against, she ended up resting her head against his abdon.
It was firm because of his muscles, but the clothes he wore were soft and warm, and Maschenny quickly drifted off to sleep.
Drip.
Tap.
Shhhhh—
Rumble—
At 3 a.m., with it being winter, the floor was still deeply dark, and now rain and thunder had joined in.
Raindrops endlessly struck the roof of the mansion and the ground outside, producing a soothing sound that tickled the ears of those sleeping within.
Both of them seed to be fully enjoying a rare mont of peace.
Maschenny and Hoaquin alike slept on, wearing very comfortable expressions.
---------------
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