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Chapter 84.1: Burning of Sorrow (6) Part 1

The Spear Demon was famous for his eccentric personality, often compared to a patient suffering from manic depression.

But right now, he was in an exceptionally good mood.

Ecstatically happy, even.

It had been ages since he’d last encountered such an entertaining opponent.

Having thirsted for a good fight for so long, Recus found the boy before him incredibly stimulating.

“This is amazing! You’re so much fun, it’s driving me crazy!”

The human was intriguing.

He looked like nothing more than a greenhorn, yet the aura he exuded was undeniably wicked.

The killing intent reminded Recus of the Sword Saint of the Demonic Realm, a formidable foe he’d faced in the past.

A shiver ran down Recus’ spine, and he trembled with exhilaration.

The spear in his hand danced gracefully, driving Raiden back.

“Die!!”

—Clang!—

Despite the sheer force behind the attack, the boy endured.

He staggered, his entire body painted crimson with blood, yet he remained standing.

Recus’ grin widened.

A mere Academy student was holding his own against him.

This young boy was facing a demon, a being whose overwhelming power had earned him the title of Spear Demon.

“Ha… Damn it, that’s just… unfair…”

“Sorry~! We’re just built tougher than you humans~!”

“Fuck…”

Recus chuckled, amused by the boy’s despair.

He liked this human.

Not just his skills, but the venomous glint in his dark eyes.

What kind of life had this boy lived to possess such a gaze?

It couldn’t have been easy.

After all, the swordsmanship he wielded wasn’t something a mere human could possess.

It reeked of something monstrous.

The boy must have paid a hefty price to wield such power.

Savoring the lingering thrill in his hand, Recus offered,

“Why don’t you just give up? I rather like you, so I might just spare your life.”

“Fuck… off…”

“Oh well. Too bad.”

Recus clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment.

In truth, he knew he couldn’t let the boy live.

He was already this formidable at such a young age.

If he were allowed to grow stronger, he would undoubtedly become a thorn in the Demon King\'s side.

It was best to eliminate him here and now.

“But I have to admit, it’s been fun. I\'ll make your death quick.”

With those ominous words, Recus raised his spear.

He poured every ounce of his strength into the attack.

In his hand, the spear transformed, its tip morphing into a colossal blade of demonic energy and raging wind.

—Recus Style Spear Arts, Eighth Form—

—Massacre—

As the final blow descended…

The boy, who had stood frozen, mumbled something under his breath.

At the same time, a blinding blue light erupted from his sword, engulfing the surroundings.

“…?!”

Recus furrowed his brows.

It wasn’t just the blinding light that startled him.

An electrifying tension gripped his entire being.

His instincts, honed for survival, screamed a warning, alerting him to the imminent danger.

Dangerous.

No, deadly.

He hadn\'t felt this primal fear of death in nearly three decades.

For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed the demon\'s face.

Through his shaking crimson eyes, he saw the boy standing amidst the surging aura.

—Boooom!!!—

A beat too late, Recus’ attack crashed down, swallowing the boy whole.

A blinding dust cloud erupted, whipped into a frenzy by the ferocious gale.

It was an attack that should have obliterated anything in its path, yet Recus couldn\'t bring himself to smile.

Because the sensation of flesh parting beneath his spear was absent.

“….!”

And then…

A streak of blue pierced through the dust cloud.

Recus barely reacted in time to deflect it.

—Clang!!—

A surprise attack that nearly took his head.

A chill ran down Recus’ spine as his eyes darted toward the source of the attack.

There, staring at him with an unreadable expression, stood a monster.

“…Ha.”

Now this was unexpected.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, carried away by the wind.

***

Past memories.

They held all the sorrow of my previous life.

Life, which might have been a blessing to some, had been a source of constant misfortune for me.

So I hated it.

I loathed the reflection staring back at me in the mirror.

I fell asleep every night, imagining myself choking the life out of that pathetic being.

It was only natural.

Having lived as a target riddled with countless arrows of misery…

I was drawn to the harsh reality of suffering rather than the fleeting illusion of happiness.

‘…Why was I even born?’

I yearned to find a reason for my existence.

If the artist who sculpted me existed, I wanted to ask for an interpretation of this wretched creation.

I hoped it would give me a reason to live, a path to follow.

But of course, such a being didn’t exist.

I was left alone, flailing in a vast ocean of despair.

I was a strange one.

I longed for a reason to live even as I wished for death.

I rejected hope, but I didn\'t want to drown in despair, so I struggled.

Perhaps, despite having lived as a target for so long…

I was the oldest arrow, yearning to be shot toward happiness.

“Sorrow, burn.”

-Burning of Sorrow-

The sorrow that had taken root in those days still lingered.

It remained vivid in my heart, breathing in sync with me.

*Ding!*

[The Divine Weapon ‘Sorrow’s’ unique skill, ‘Burning of Sorrow’ has been activated.]

[Agility and Strength stats will temporarily increase in proportion to the user’s negative emotions.]

[However, the Health stat will temporarily decrease, with a maximum of 5 ranks.]

[Side effect: May worsen the user’s existing trauma. Severity is proportional to the skill’s duration.]

A mechanical voice rang in my ears, accompanied by a brilliant light that erupted from my body.

It was fire.

Fire that burned with sorrow as its fuel.

The embers, originating from my fingertips, gradually spread throughout my entire being.

*Ding!*

[User’s physical abilities have changed.]

1. Health: B --> D

2. Strength: C+ --> S+

3. Agility: B --> S+

I stood engulfed in blue flames.

It was a strange sensation.

Everything was quiet.

All sound seemed to fade away.

Only the gentle warmth of the flames enveloped me.

“…”

I slowly opened my eyes.

My blurry vision focused on a spear thrust, hurtling towards me with ferocious momentum.

I shifted my body slightly.

The trajectory of the attack, which had been impossible to discern just moments ago, was now crystal clear.

The demon’s spear cut through empty air.

A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

I seized the opportunity and swung Sorrow.

—Clang!—

A resounding clash echoed as the two weapons collided.

Recus clicked his tongue and tried to pull back, but I didn’t let him escape.

—Clang! Clank! Crack…! Thud!—

My sword danced, relentlessly pressing the attack.

Each step I took was fluid, like a dancer gliding across the stage.

Lines of blue light traced my sword’s path, all aiming for the demon’s neck.

I had matched Recus in both speed and power.

Now, the only thing that mattered was skill.

*Ding!*

[Trauma deterioration progress --> Current: 140%]

[Warning: Exceeding 150% deterioration may put the user’s mind under severe strain.]

[The skill will be forcibly deactivated if deterioration exceeds 300% to ensure the user’s safety.]

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