Chapter 614
Now, in This Dream. (1)
The visions within the dream were beyond Ghislain’s control. He could only observe from a limited perspective.
Most of what he saw revolved around the battle between The Hero and The Adversary. Through their clashes, Ghislain learned and absorbed many things.
Occasionally, neither of them would appear in his dreams. Instead, he would witness large-scale wars between massive armies.
Fights between dragons and giants, the United Human Army clashing with the Riftspawn, and glimpses of the leaders within the United Human Army.
That, too, proved useful to Ghislain. He observed the strategies and tactics they employed, how they succeeded, and how they failed.
However, this dream was different. It featured figures he had never seen before.
Kwaaaaaang!
Among the followers of the Salvation Church, there were four individuals far stronger than the other inquisitors.
As soon as they appeared, the soldiers of the United Human Army tensed up and shouted.
"The Apostles have arrived!"
Hearing that, Ghislain tilted his head in confusion.
‘Apostles?’
Had there ever been such figures within the Salvation Church?
He had heard of priests, inquisitors, and executioners, but this was the first time he had encountered the term Apostle.
These so-called Apostles stood right beside The Adversary, seemingly second only to him in rank within the church.
Regardless, they were powerful. Their bodies shrouded in black mist, their attacks swept through the soldiers of the United Human Army like fallen leaves in the wind.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
Even Ghislain found himself on edge at the Apostles' sheer might. Compared to them, the warriors once known as the Seven Strongest on the Continent in his previous life seemed lacking.
‘Shouldn’t Ereneth or the Dwarven King step in?’
The Hero had to fight The Adversary. From what Ghislain had seen so far, there were indeed skilled warriors among the United Human Army, but none strong enough to face the Apostles.
Yet, Ereneth and the Dwarven King were locked in battles against other high-ranking priests on opposing sides. This meant that the central battlefield would be completely overrun by the Apostles.
Just then, the forces of the United Human Army began to retreat, allowing four individuals to step forward toward the Apostles.
Kwaaaaaang!
To Ghislain’s surprise, these four figures fought evenly against the Apostles.
One by one, Ghislain examined them closely.
The first was a man with disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes. Judging by the robe he wore, he was likely a mage.
Aside from his gloomy and melancholic expression, his youthful face had an almost endearing, boyish charm. Of course, anyone capable of fighting in this war couldn’t possibly be as young as he appeared.
Despite his frail-looking appearance, his skills were enough to astonish even Ghislain.
"Hellfire."
With that single word, the mage’s voice cut through the air, resonating across the battlefield.
At that moment, dazzling white flames flared up in midair. The man unleashed high-tier 9th-circle magic as naturally as breathing.
A fireball, radiating intense heat, shot toward the Apostle like a bolt of lightning.
Kwaaaaang!
A surge of black energy erupted from the Apostle’s hands, colliding with the fireball and triggering a massive explosion. Light and darkness intertwined, shaking the surrounding space.
The mage's eyes gleamed. His fingers moved as if dancing, and in an instant, dozens of magical runes materialized in the air.
Immediately after, a storm of magic, blending fire, ice, and lightning, surged toward the Apostle.
Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!
The Apostle was no easy opponent. The black energy flowing from his body writhed as if alive, devouring the magic.
At times, that darkness sharpened into arrows, shooting toward the mage.
Their battle remained deadlocked, their exchanged attacks so powerful that they distorted the very fabric of space and time.
Ghislain marveled at their prowess while closely observing the mage.
“Is he the founder of the Magic Tower that Jerome mentioned? The one who was said to be the Hero’s companion?”
After the battle with Gartros, Jerome had shared many stories.
The founder of the Magic Tower, who had once fought alongside the Hero, and the magic he had devised to stop the Adversary.
Even before Ereneth spoke of the ancient war, he had already known about the Adversary’s existence.
“If that story is true, then that mage must be him.”
Such was the sheer majesty he exuded.
Ghislain slowly turned his gaze to the others.
Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!
A knight clad in gleaming silver armor stood against the Apostle, wielding a massive shield.
His sword carved through the air before striking down with immense weight. His swordsmanship was the epitome of tradition, the most fundamental and time-honored form of combat.
What seemed like simple movements held within them the wisdom of millennia and the distilled experience of countless battles.
Kwaaaaang!
Each time his sword clashed with the Apostle, a thunderous shockwave echoed. His sword was more than a mere weapon, it was the embodiment of his will.
Every powerful and honest strike bore the mark of unwavering resolve.
The Apostle moved erratically, like a shifting shadow, seeking an opening in the knight’s defense. But his shield stood like a living fortress.
No attack, no trickery could break through his guard.
Every movement of the knight carried a sense of discipline, as though he were the very embodiment of chivalry.
Courage, honor, loyalty.
All these virtues were imbued in his sword and shield.
Kwang! Kwang! Kwang!
With each clash, the atmosphere around them grew heavier.
The Apostle could not break through the knight’s formidable defense. However, the knight, too, was unable to land a decisive blow on the Apostle, who moved like a phantom.
Their battle resembled an eternal dance of light and shadow.
As Ghislain observed the knight’s movements, his expression gradually hardened.
“That swordsmanship…”
Ghislain had mastered countless sword techniques across the continent. While many knights wielded similar styles, a closer examination always revealed distinct characteristics and differences.
That was why he could immediately recognize and differentiate various sword techniques with precision.
And by sheer coincidence, he was very familiar with the swordsmanship this knight was using.
“The Ladran Royal Sword!”
It was the secret royal swordsmanship and mana refinement technique that only the royal family of Ritania was permitted to use.
After seizing the kingdom, Ghislain had naturally studied this technique in detail.
After all, even Count Palantz, the former Royal Knight Commander, had learned the royal swordsmanship bestowed by Berhem. It was thanks to that overwhelming support that Count Palantz had ascended to the realm of Transcendents.
Ghislain had personally experienced that very sword in battle against Count Palantz.
Seeing that same swordsmanship now left him momentarily shaken.
“Was the Founder King of Ritania also one of the Hero’s companions?”
But something didn’t match the story he had heard from Berhem.
— "The Founder King… was said to be the Saintess’s servant."
No matter how he looked at it, this knight was no mere servant. He was a magnificent knight in his own right.
Perhaps the one who had been a servant had later been recognized for his talent and noble heart, rising to knighthood. Such cases weren’t unheard of.
Ghislain carefully studied the knight’s face.
But soon, his brows furrowed.
“His face… is hidden.”
A deep shadow cloaked the area around his eyes, making it impossible to discern his full features.
Only his faintly visible jawline hinted at his youth.
Never before had someone’s face been obscured like this in his dreams.
Either there was an issue with the dream itself, or it wasn’t yet time for him to see it.
In either case, there was nothing he could do about it.
With a sigh, Ghislain turned his gaze elsewhere.
And there, an even more astonishing sight unfolded before him.
“Huh?”
Paaaaah!
A mysterious woman, her lower face concealed by a mask, moved her hands elegantly through the air.
At that moment, hundreds of daggers materialized around her, cascading like a celestial river.
The brilliantly glowing daggers were so mesmerizing that they commanded the attention of all who beheld them.
Srrrk.
With another graceful motion of her fingers, the daggers began to dance.
They floated through the air like a swarm of fireflies, weaving intricate patterns.
The luminous trails they left behind formed what seemed like a living masterpiece of art.
The woman's gaze locked onto the Apostle, and the movements of the dancing daggers changed. Every single dagger pointed its sharp tip toward him.
The once-still air instantly tensed with pressure.
Paaak!
After a brief silence, hundreds of daggers shot toward the Apostle like a raging storm.
The daggers sliced through the air, emitting sharp whistles. Their speed and power were overwhelming.
Kwaaang!
The Apostle’s eyes glowed. A swirl of black energy began to surge around his body.
With all escape routes blocked by the oncoming storm of daggers, he moved like lightning.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
His hands and feet were so fast that only afterimages remained. Each time he deflected a dagger, sparks flew, twisting the trajectory of the blades.
In a moment that felt frozen in time, their battle continued. Neither side yielded, maintaining a tense equilibrium.
Only silver streaks remained in the air traces of brilliant light intertwined with the Apostle’s black energy, creating a spectacle akin to stars shimmering in the night sky.
Belinda… No, Mother's technique…
That was the secret technique of his mother, the former commander of the Shadow Knights. But what was unfolding now far surpassed what Belinda had ever shown, it was the pinnacle of that ultimate technique.
If he were to be caught in it, escaping would be no easy task.
Ghislain suddenly recalled a conversation he had once had with Belinda.
— A single family monopolized the position of commander? In this kingdom?
— Yes, the position was passed down for generations. Only those from Lady Annette’s family could inherit the secret technique and become the Shadow Knight Commander.
Then that person…
Wait, could they be one of Mother's distant ancestors?
He wasn’t sure how, but it seemed that their descendants had settled in the Kingdom of Ritania after the war.
From there, the technique had been passed down through the generations, eventually reaching his mother, and now, Belinda.
Seeing these unexpected figures one after another left him stunned.
Ghislain quickly turned his head in another direction. He still had to confirm the identity of the last person.
KWA-AAAAANG!
Unlike the others, the last man was dressed carelessly, almost sloppily, as he swung his sword.
The sword in his hand was anything but ornate. Its rough, unpolished blade bore the scars of countless battles.
Swish!
Each time he swung, the surrounding air seemed to freeze.
His stance was far from traditional swordsmanship, it was more like a wild wolf stalking its prey.
Kwaaang!
His blade lashed out toward the Apostle in countless strikes. His swordplay had no discernible pattern or form, it was purely instinctive, overflowing with raw ferocity.
His movements were just as unpredictable. Though the Apostle’s attacks rained down on him, he evaded them with a fluid grace, as if dancing.
Like a leaf riding the wind, his movements were impossible to predict.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
As the two clashed, the force of their confrontations filled the surroundings.
The man’s swordplay constantly shifted. It was impossible to pinpoint what technique he was using.
His attacks were, at times, as fierce as a raging blizzard, yet at other times, they were as smooth as gliding over ice.
At times, he fought cautiously like a coward, yet at others, his sword was as grand and direct as that of a noble knight.
His swordplay endlessly adapted to the moment and the situation.
Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaaaang!
The duel raged on. The collision of the man’s sword and the Apostle’s aura sent shockwaves rippling through the air.
Ghislain, watching the fight unfold, felt his expression tremble with shock.
That sword…
If the man's skill were a little lower.
If certain crucial elements of his swordplay and mana refinement technique were missing.
And if those missing elements were instead restructured into a revised form of swordsmanship and mana refinement technique.
Then…
That was the very same swordsmanship of the Ferdium family.
His family's swordsmanship and mana refinement technique had always felt incomplete.
For that reason, the ancestors of the Ferdium family had never been able to surpass a certain level.
Ghislain had questioned it before, but he never found an answer. In the end, he had decided to completely reconstruct the Ferdium family's mana refinement technique.
Yet now, within this dream—
The complete form of the Ferdium swordsmanship was unfolding before his very eyes.