Thinking he had killed Norman, Pashian began to search through the bodies of his dead subordinates. “Damn monster. I’ll burn you to the ground with this building.” He knew that one of his subordinates carried around matches because he smoked, but it took him a while to find that body, as Norman had decapitated all of them. Pashian sensed movement behind him and froze, matches in hand. As he still had his sword in the other hand, he turned around and swung toward the source. “W-what… Oh, it was just a stupid rat.” The rat trembled, skewered on Pashian’s sword. Just as he turned his attention back to the matches, now calm, his sharp senses detected sudden movements from all directions. It was clear where it was coming from. The clear mucus that had splattered everywhere began squirming. It then expanded and began to form into something. Pashian didn’t just idly watch; as the monster seemed to be regenerating, he continued to slash, over and over again. However, he couldn’t catch up with the speed at which the monster was regenerating and adapting. Soon, it had fully reformed and shifted between a variety of human shapes: a young boy, an old man, an Adeusian with sun-kissed skin, a Baenian with pale skin, a naked woman with a voluptuous figure… Among them, it finally settled on the form of a man named Dopema. “Originally, I was going to slowly integrate into human society with this guy. His ordinary appearance and talent were useful.” Pashian gulped in anxiety. He was gripping his sword so tightly that blood dripped from his hand. I’ll have to buy some time using the Extreme Galewind Sword and run away again. The monster in front of him was unkillable; it was something that a Grandmaster, or perhaps one of the Four Lords, could defeat. That was why Pashian had to survive—someone had to spread the word. Pashian valued survival over the humiliation of retreat, and that was why he pretended to listen calmly to Norman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. For starters, what even are you?” Pashian was speaking to Dopema, but the one who replied was the naked woman. “I don’t have a name. I’m Dopema, and I’m also Philip, and now I’m Norman. But your kind has a name for me too—Transparent Slime. That’s my name.” “Slime? Don’t make me laugh!” Slimes had a semi-transparent, jelly-like consistency with a green core. It looked like it would crawl like a snail, yet it bounced like a rabbit. Slimes were said to devour their prey by melting them with their acidic bodies. They seemed to have no weak points, but they each had a transparent nucleus that would kill the slime if destroyed. That was what the world knew, and what Pashian believed a slime was. “You’re not a slime. You’re a monster pretending to be one. What do you want?” Pashian was so terrified that he was trembling, but he hadn’t lost his reason. That was why he believed the slime had spared him for a purpose. “What I want is you, of course.” This time, the slime stepped forward as Norman. Pashian raised his sword toward him. “Are you looking for human subordinates?” “Hah. If I needed humans to serve me, I already have them. The entire Aleron Merchant Company is mine.” Pashian pretended to be shocked to buy more time. At the same time, he squeezed out the last of his aura and poured it into his sword, like wringing moisture from a dried corn husk. “The reason I didn’t kill you yet is that I get more out of absorbing someone when I know more about them. And Martial Spirit… I find that particularly useful.” “You want the Martial Spirit? Then I’ll show you it.” “Don’t play games. You were planning to use it to escape, weren’t you? Even I would have trouble catching you then.” Norman took one step closer. Pashian’s eyes sharpened. Norman had entered the range of Extreme Galewind Sword. Pashian unleashed the hidden aura all at once and roared, “Get torn to pieces and die!” A concentrated burst of whirling sword aura surged toward Norman. Norman had been shredded to bits by this very technique once before. Even if it couldn’t kill him, it would buy Pashian enough time to escape. However, Norman grinned like he had been waiting for this. “Yeah, I figured I should see it twice.” Dopema and Philip stepped up beside Norman. Aura Swords flared to life in their hands, and each performed a different sword technique. “Strike-Breaking Wave.” “Falling Petal Point.” “Fatal All-Cutting Sword.” At that moment, time seemed to slow for Pashian. And within that slowed time, he saw it all clearly. Strike-Breaking Wave is the Blackwood family’s secret art, and Falling Petal Point is from the Browning family, the Masters of Swordsmanship. I’ve never heard of Fatal All-Cutting Blade... but it’s impressive. It’s the strongest attack I’ve ever seen. And then he understood why time felt slow. In this stretched moment, Pashian watched as his Extreme Galewind Sword was overwhelmed by the three sword styles. Not even two seconds had passed in real time, but in this slowed space, he had been granted ten full seconds before death. Yet even if he had been given a hundred seconds, the emotions surging within him were too tangled to name. And with that final curse, Pashian’s head fell. Pashian looked around his body. He cleared his throat and swung his Aura Sword. He tried using his wild swordsmanship he learned as a mercenary, then his Extreme Galewind Sword, his secret technique, without aura. “Good. The synchronization is not too bad. I salvaged a lot of the Martial Spirit as well.” Then, Pashian’s face disintegrated and formed back into Norman’s. He wore the clothes of the knight he killed and made sure he looked well put-together. There was no need to clean up the bodies as he had devoured them; all that was left in the building was blood and loose clothes. Paying no attention to the blood on the floor, and went out into the main street. He walked around acting like nothing happened. Then, he stopped in front of a hotel—the Tremond Hotel where the Sefira group was staying. He licked his lips. “After seeing you, Keter, the lives of other people seem dull. Your bold and free-spirited nature is incredibly captivating. I want to absorb you right now, but there’s so much about you that I don’t know yet. There seem to be many skills you haven’t shown yet, so I’ll wait until this tournament is over.” The absorption rate depended on how much information was known about the target. The higher the rate, the more perfectly the target could be replicated—appearance, skills, and even memories. Originally, Keter wasn’t Norman’s goal. He had planned to become the Sword of the South as a humble knight named Dopema from a rural town and naturally assimilate into human society. His ultimate goal was the queen of this kingdom. However, realizing that power, politics, and wealth were the three most important things in human society, Norman took Aleron as a subordinate, helped grow his merchant company, and amassed financial strength. Then, Norman ended up making a reckless bet, wagering his entire merchant company, with Ultima and Keter, who had appeared out of nowhere. They bet ten million gold on the prediction that none of the top contenders would win the tournament. That had originally been Aleron’s plan as well: for Dopema, who was not listed among the favorites, to become the Sword of the South and sweep the prize pool without giving a single coin to the gamblers. But Norman couldn’t stand the thought of the Aleron Merchant Company that he so carefully nurtured falling entirely into Ultima’s hands. So, he changed the plan. He transformed into Norman, the least likely of the favorites, and decided to become the Sword of the South himself. That way, he could prevent Ultima from seizing the guild. But then, an unexpected variable emerged: Keter entered the tournament as an independent participant. At the time, Norman thought little of it. But the divine might you displayed in the battle royale far exceeded my imagination. Norman trembled. At the casino, he had assumed Keter was nothing more than a pretentious, clueless brat, but he was wrong. Since awakening in the human world, Norman had seen and devoured countless humans. Yet never had he encountered one as bold and free as Keter—that limitless confidence and the skills to back that up. I want it all—your personality, your convictions, your technique. And so, Norman began to covet Keter, mimicking him in hopes of catching his attention. But strangely enough, Keter didn’t seem to care about him at all. That only makes you more irresistible, Keter. Norman licked his lips as he looked up at the top floor of the hotel where he presumed Keter was staying. “See you in the finals, Keter. That’s when I’ll make you reveal everything.” There was no scenario where he lost to Keter. After all, he wasn’t just any slime. He had a core like a slime, yes, but his was smaller than a fingernail and freely mobile. As long as it wasn’t targeted precisely and destroyed in an instant, he could regenerate rapidly. More importantly, Norman was certain of one thing: he hadn’t fought Keter yet, but he was sure he possessed the power to kill even a Grandmaster. At the sound of someone knocking on the door, Didos, the captain of the fifth division of the Order of the Galaxy who had been standing watch, frowned. “I didn’t hear any footsteps…” Other knights might have dismissed it as a simple oversight, but Didos was different. He trusted his senses. If he hadn’t heard footsteps, then the one knocking on the door couldn’t possibly be ordinary. Nocking an arrow to his bow, Didos aimed at the door and whispered, “Take defensive positions.” In response, his subordinate knights on standby immediately spread out, nocking arrows and aiming them at the door. Myle saw this coincidentally as he was passing by. Follow current novᴇls on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✦𝓷𝓮𝓽 “Sir Didos, what’s going on?” “There’s a suspicious figure outside the door. They knocked on the door in the dead of night without making a sound.” Hearing this, Myle looked troubled. “Ah... this might be my fault. I asked for some wine a little while ago and told them to come quietly. I didn’t expect it would cause such a fuss.” “Still, just in case, please stay behind me, my lord. I will open the door.” “No need. I’ll open it myself. Sir Didos, I’ll ask you to cover me from behind.” Myle didn’t think it was anything serious. After all, this hotel had guards on par with knights. Plus, even if it were a real enemy, they wouldn’t knock politely. When the door opened, Myle saw a man in a blue uniform standing there holding a fruit basket. Myle promptly shut the door again. Then he shouted out toward the living room, “Anis, Taragon! Did either of you order fruit?” With a grave expression, Didos whispered, “Shall I just shoot him in the leg and subdue him?” “He didn’t seem hostile, but better safe than sorry. Don’t aim openly, but stay in the blind spots and keep your bows ready.” Didos motioned to his men to hide. Once the knights were in ambush, Myle opened the door again. The handsome man in the blue uniform finished the greeting he had been interrupted before completing. Just from looking at him, Myle was certain that even if this man wasn’t an enemy, he was definitely insane. “Who are you, at this hour?” Myle asked, his face filled with suspicion. The man clicked his tongue. “Keter didn’t tell you about me? How disappointing.” Crossing his legs, the man placed his left hand on his stomach and gave a deep, dramatic bow. “My name is Ailos, the singer.” “...Myle El Sefira, second son of Sefira.” “I am aware. By the way, may I come in?” Myle gazed at the man calling himself Ailos. This man... isn’t human. As an incantor, Myle had tried using Eye of Black and White to peer into Ailos’ nature, only to nearly suffer a heart attack. Darkness within darkness... The depths of Ailos’ soul were like an abyss—an endless void. “My, peeking into my soul without permission? That space is only reserved for Keter, you know.” Ailos shoved the fruit basket into Myle’s arms and walked into the room uninvited. “Freeze!” shouted Didos, waiting in ambush with his bow in hand, but… …but Ailos simply snapped his fingers, and Didos’ shadow moved on its own and transformed into tentacles that bound his entire body. As Didos was restrained, the other knights fired their aura-infused arrows at Ailos without hesitation. “Quick response, I see.” Ailos smiled and didn’t even bother to defend himself. He didn’t need to, as a shadow barrier rose from his feet and devoured the aura-charged arrows with ease. It was an overwhelming force, but the Galaxy Knights were not the type to be frightened so easily. Just as they began to conjure Aura Arrows… Myle’s shout halted their attack, but the knights still kept their bows aimed at Ailos, maintaining full alert. “Myle? Why are you telling us to stop…?” Startled by the commotion, Anis and Taragon rushed in. They saw Didos restrained by shadow, the Galaxy Knights all armed and aimed, and Ailos in the center. To any onlooker, Ailos was clearly the enemy. Realizing the situation, Anis and Taragon summoned their own Aura Bows and aimed at Ailos. “You bastard! Touch my brother and I’ll blow a hole in that big forehead of yours!” Taragon, who had picked up some foul language working with mercenaries, glared at Ailos with killing intent. Ailos responded with a burst of laughter. “Haha! You really don’t get it. If I meant to hurt you…” Ailos’s face began to distort and melt like wax. The sun stone crystal that had been keeping the darkness at bay suddenly went out, and the lamps extinguished. The bright room plunged into darkness. From that darkness, Ailos revealed his true form: a demon, teeth bared, closing in on their throats. “You would already be corpses.” The demon’s whisper wormed its way into everyone’s ears. Just as everyone was about to lose their minds from the crushing fear and helplessness… A Demon Arrow shot through the darkness and pierced Ailos’ forehead. “Quit screwing around and get over here.” At Keter’s voice, the suffocating darkness instantly vanished.