Chapter Eighty Six, Dancing Rain.

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The swordsman swung upwards, carrying his sword into the thick eldritch arm.

But it ricocheted.

It was flesh, but far stronger than one would expect.

“You won’t be able to damage the arm of a demon…” The woman scoffed.

Her hand raised, and he swiftly wiped the sweat off the side of his forehead.

He had just been replying to a feeling of unease… He didn’t expect to step outside and see a high ranking witch!

He didn’t have his armor, only his sword that he slept with.

As a King’s Swordsman, of course his mind was tempered.

But when death was truly staring you in the face?…

He dashed forward once more, leaping into the air.

The arm came for him, but he swung his sword.

It bounced off the witch’s flesh, and repelled the appendage. He let his momentum throw his body in the opposite direction, forcing him to 360 as he came down.

Boom!

He collided with the eldritch arm once more, yet this time it was protecting the witch’s face.

He pushed further downwards, attempting to break her guard.

But she just stood there.

She stood, unbothered, guarded by her demonic power.

He was at a severe disadvantage, but he still believed he could win.

To highly increase his chances of success, he had to do one thing.

”The Emperor’s Eight….” He muttered, digging into the demon. He recoiled backwards, jumping some feet away.

Steam seemed to come out of his mouth as he continued to step away.

The witch tilted her head.

His eyes lowered, as if becoming more tired.

Then, a white essence seemed to escape those as well.

Energy was leaving both his mouth, and his eyes.

The demon before him seemed to be quite entertained.

”Is this?… I didn’t know the King’s infantry had curses as well…” She laughed in slight surprise.

”Dancing Rain.”

Hearing those words, almost instinctually, her gaze hardened.

The swordsman dashed at her once more, this time far faster than before.

He jumped.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Like before, she raised her appendage to meet him, in attempt to clash.

Perhaps this time she would actually fight back.

That was her thought process.

But when he cleaved straight through her demon arm, and dug deep into her shoulder, she couldn’t help but be awestruck.

Quickly and efficiently, he pulled his sword out of her shoulder and dashed forward.

She reluctantly turned her head in shock.

And what greeted her was far more surprising.

Right before her eyes, the swordsman was falling once more.

Instinctively, she raised her demon arm.

Perhaps thanks to the angle she had gotten…

It wasn’t completely cleaved through this time.

The sword got stuck about two-thirds of the way in, and the swordsman quickly reeled back upon seeing that.

The witch gulped, stepping backwards.

Her gaze hardened for real this time.

She looked at the lesser arm of her contracted demon, watching as it slowly regenerated.

In that moment, a voice infiltrated her ears.

”If you die without so much as a fight told generations down the line, I will make sure your soul is tortured by the most horrifying and ghastly creatures of the underworld.”

Everything became a whole lot more desperate.

Losing was no longer an option. She would have to treat this as a mission.

“If you truly need it… Unseal your curse marks. You might die in the process, but it will give you the power of a high ranking fourth order.”

She scoffed.

There was no way she would need that for a low level fourth order …

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A man paused. His arms were at a ninety degree angle, and sweat dripped from his nose and hair onto the ground beneath him.

He was holding himself up with only his arms, being in a push up position.

His nose twitched, and his brows furrowed.

His sixth sense.

His head slowly turned towards the right, his eyes closing.

He could feel fluctuations… Fluctuations of magical energy…

Somebody was using a sorcerer technique.

Somebody with a magic sword as well.

An eyebrow raised as his pushed himself to his feet.

King Arthur of Sunvera.

Emperor of the Sumerian Dynasty.

He instinctively knew that something was off.

”My Eighth Sword… What is wrong?” He walked, grabbing a rag as he moved.

He wiped the sweat from his face and upper body.

Tossing the rag onto the ground, he grabbed his sword from against the wall and exited his training room.

“A witch is it? Not a weakling as well… Looks like I will be able to run some more experiments.”

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Blood dripped from his nose, his arms were cut. His shirt was no longer one piece, and it barely clung to his body.

His sword was glowing with a low blue hum, and his foe wasn’t in the greatest shape either.

There was a deep wound in her shoulder, and a cut crossing her mid section.

Both of her palms were bleeding, a result of being forced to grab his attacks with her bare hands.

His gaze was still tired, but hardened.

It was draining his mind and body, keeping up his Dancing Rain battle form.

It was a technique he had created with the assistance of the Emperor himself. None other than master swordsmen could combat it!

The fact this woman was still standing was a testament to the power of her and her contracted demon.

And unfortunately, he didn’t think he would be standing much longer.

He tried to ready his sword, but his knee buckled.

He dropped to the ground, one leg on the ground, while the other fought to keep balance.

”This was a good fight, Swordsman…” The witch spoke, stepping forward.

”You actually made me take you serious… I thought only a king would be able to make me try…” She approached, and the man dug his sword into the ground.

He attempted to use it as stability, but he couldn’t rise.

His legs weren’t functioning as he would like…

”Tell me your name, witch.” He heaved.

”What demon are you aligned with?” He barely lifted his head, locking eyes with the witch.

A smirk appeared on her face, and her feet slowly came to a stop.

”Behemot, a duke of the underworld. Second order demon of strength and a devourer of souls.” She said.

”As for my name? It’s unimportant.” She spoke.

With the smile on her face, the arm behind her wriggled, aiming towards the fallen man.

She licked the blood at the corner of her mouth, her smile growing brighter.

“Goodbye swordsman.”

It shot forward, and the man winced, closing his eyes.

Clank!

His eyes shot open, and he tried to understand his surroundings as quickly as he could.

The tip of a sword had stopped the advances of the demon’s arm.

A man stood to the side, his arm extending the sword.

He had no upper clothing. On his lower body there was. A ripped cape he had once worn, but now wrapped around his waist.

All over his body were scars and burns, history written into his skin.

His hair was a pale blonde, nearly white. His face couldn’t be seen in this darkness, but the white aura emanating off of his back brightened some things up.

The swordsman stared in awe, and honor.

”E-Emperor…”

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image [https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3f/c0/7f/3fc07fd09591a404d5a2b26b9178a1d8.jpg]

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