# Chapter 71
—
Arthur’s head was severed cleanly and rolled across the floor.
Jeannie, watching the scene, widened her eyes.
“Donn… nim?”
Her expression hardened sharply as she spoke.
At the same time, a fierce gale surged around her.
“You son of a bitch–!!!”
With her cry, the storm transformed into blades of wind that rushed toward Halibur.
Halibur, narrowing his eyes, muttered.
“Hooh… an Elf, is it?”
And with those words, the storm rushing toward him vanished.
“!”
A massive greatsword, swung at a moment none could discern, had erased the storm entirely.
Jeannie opened her mouth wide and once again invoked the power of the sylph, but it was already too late.
Whoosh—!
The greatsword, swung like a blunt weapon, shattered the sylph’s barrier and struck Jeannie down.
With a chilling crack of bones breaking, she slammed into the wall and lost consciousness on the spot.
Leon, who had been watching, bit his lips.
‘Damn it! I had no intention of wasting lifespan here!’
With that thought, Leon leapt forward, aiming for Halibur’s back.
At the same time, using the power of his crescent-colored eyes, he attempted to intrude into Halibur’s inner world.
‘An amusing ability you wield.’
A whisper brushed past his ears—then Leon’s neck fell.
Strictly speaking, it was Leon’s spirit body—his mental projection—that had been severed while trying to enter Halibur’s inner world.
“……!”
Leon’s eyes widened as he collapsed to the ground.
Having subdued two in an instant, Halibur rested the greatsword on his shoulder and muttered.
“Hmm… this one carries imperial blood?”
He tilted his head.
‘One’s an Elf. Another, of imperial blood… what sort of combination is this?’
To see such rare lineages gathered in one place in a lifetime?
Mildly intrigued, Halibur was mulling it over when a familiar yet strange voice brushed his ear.
“So you were Halibur?”
Startled, Halibur turned his head.
“Hooh? Still alive?”
With those words, Arthur picked up his fallen head and reattached it.
“I’m alive, though I didn’t think it would work. This is my first time reviving like this.”
Halibur stroked his chin.
“I see. So it wasn’t by chance that you struck down my knight, eh?”
“Oh, that Death Knight?”
“Mm. I’d invested quite a bit in him, so I was surprised when he fell. Which is why I came here.”
“He was claiming he was Halibur.”
Halibur burst out laughing.
“Ah, that’s because he was one of my knights who died by my hand.”
“…You mean, a dead knight?”
“To bind a soul back into this world requires an intense obsession. I used his thirst for vengeance against me as the medium.”
Arthur let out an exclamation.
“So that’s why he called himself a Swordmaster and claimed to be Halibur?”
“His obsession was so strong, he even forgot his own name. Anyway…”
Halibur trailed off, once more leveling his sword at Arthur’s throat.
Once again, Arthur couldn’t follow the motion.
“How many more times can you die before you stay dead?”
Arthur shifted his gaze slightly and spoke.
“No option where you just let me live?”
“Unlikely. After all, you killed the one I sponsored…”
Halibur gestured toward the ashes of the Death Knight’s head.
“…and you slew the envoy of the Sky Island. You’ve heard the tales, haven’t you? Kill the Death Knight riding the pony, and you’ll have to endure Sky Island’s retribution.”
Halibur slowly pressed the greatsword forward.
As its cold edge sank into his neck, Arthur let out a gasp and muttered.
“So you mean if I offer something to make up for those two, I can live?”
“Hmm… more or less.”
“Give me a moment, let me think.”
Halibur blinked.
Meanwhile, Arthur stroked his chin, pondering.
‘What could I give to soothe this monster?’
Or rather—was there no choice to fight him instead?
Arthur blinked as he mulled it over.
‘Huh? Nothing at all?’
Shockingly, not a single idea arose that made him think he could defeat this one-armed man.
Even though just moments ago he had defeated a Death Knight of near Tacen’s level.
This sensation… he hadn’t felt it since this life’s encounter with Sky Island’s Whitebeard.
‘…Huh? Whitebeard?’
As he muttered, Arthur’s eyes widened.
Just then Halibur asked again.
“I’ve given you plenty of time. Thought of anything?”
“Mm… yes. I don’t know exactly what to give, but actually, I do have something.”
“Something?”
“Yes. Something you might find tempting.”
Interest flickered in Halibur’s eyes.
Seeing that, Arthur rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a wallet.
Halibur chuckled as he watched.
“…Don’t tell me it’s money?”
“Oh? Money would work?”
“Of course not.”
Arthur nodded.
Then he carefully took out a single black card.
Halibur, watching closely, narrowed his eyes.
“That’s…?”
“You recognize it, as expected.”
“……”
“The person who gave this to me said so himself. That he was Whitebeard of Sky Island.”
Halibur fell silent.
His reaction, so different from moments ago, made the corners of Arthur’s lips curl upward.
“I’ve heard this card… is a token of the one protected by him. Is it not?”
Halibur nodded calmly.
“Correct. Those who possess that card are under Whitebeard protection. Though it’s strange.”
He tilted his head.
“It’s my first time seeing the card with my own eyes, so I can’t tell if it’s real or fake.”
“It’s real. After all, Whitebeard has no eyes, doesn’t he?”
“Oh? You’ve met him personally then?”
With that exclamation, Halibur swung his sword.
But this time, Arthur was faster.
Whoosh—!
Using spatial-leap, he dodged the strike and widened the distance.
As Halibur marveled again, Arthur thought:
‘That swing was only meant for me to dodge. If it were serious… my head would’ve been cut again.’
And if that happened, he wasn’t sure he would revive once more.
That Swordmaster who had appeared out of nowhere would never grant him time to regenerate.
Meanwhile, Halibur rested the sword on his shoulder, muttering.
“I’ve no wish to oppose Whitebeard, but…”
Blue mana surged across his body.
“This is about my pride. Even if you’re under his protection, I’ll still take your head.”
Arthur sighed deeply.
“So it comes to this, after all.”
“You intend to fight?”
“No? I intend to run.”
“And abandon your companions?”
Arthur pointed a finger.
Halibur turned his gaze, widening his eyes.
‘When—?’
The pair who had been lying unconscious were gone.
Could it be that strange ability-wielder spirited them away?
But Halibur shook his head.
‘No. That one didn’t act. Which means there’s a third party.’
Smiling at the thought, Halibur laughed aloud.
One who could revive after decapitation, an Elf, imperial blood, and now even a hidden rat who could deceive his senses?
As his mood soured sharply, his face hardened.
Sensing the shift, Arthur raised a hand in farewell.
“See you next time, Halibur.”
“You think I’ll let you go?”
With those words, Halibur swung his blade.
An intangible force erupted—Arthur’s eyes widened.
‘I’ll die.’
An invisible, unblockable strike.
Chilled to the core, Arthur rushed to spatial-leap—
But suddenly, a massive wall appeared and blocked the blow.
Boom—!
With a deafening blast, smoke billowed thick.
Blinking in the haze, Arthur murmured unconsciously.
“Whitebeard?”
And there, the eyeless old man—Whitebeard—turned his head and spoke.
“You never fail to stir up trouble, little angel of Bayern.”
—
—
Halibur frowned, muttering.
“The real Whitebeard has appeared?”
“…Been a while, hasn’t it, Halibur.”
“It has indeed, old man.”
With those words, Halibur lowered the sword he had been holding aloft.
“Didn’t think we’d meet like this. Fifty years, was it?”
“Has it been that long already? True, the last official gathering was seventy years ago.”
With a laugh like scraping iron, Whitebeard tapped his staff.
In that instant, not only the ground Halibur had shattered, but all the damage from their clash moments ago, was restored to its original state.
Seeing this bizarre sight, Arthur’s eyes went wide—while Whitebeard addressed Halibur.
“I understand your temper is roused.”
“……”
“But could you stand down here? This boy is quite important to me…”
Halibur tilted his head.
“What is he, that you would say that?”
“Mm… my own little god, who will grant my wish.”
“…?”
“To put it in metaphor—yes. My own small god. So, could you spare me the dignity?”
At the repeated request, Halibur considered.
“……”
Tapping his fingers in thought, he lifted his head and asked:
“What can you give me?”
“Thirty years of lifespan. And I’ll repair the Death Knight as well.”
Halibur exclaimed.
“Too generous. Will you be alright with that?”
“To calm your wrath, I must at least offer this much.”
“That aside—doesn’t that show how important that boy is?”
Whitebeard smiled faintly.
Though eyeless, it was a chilling smile—so much so that Halibur was startled.
The Whitebeard he knew was not one to smile.
‘What in the world is that boy?’
Unusual, yes, but there seemed little that would draw the attention of such a monstrous elder.
Curiosity flickered, but Halibur let it go.
Provoking Whitebeard further would mean incurring a risk too great even for him.
“Very well. I’ll see you at the next gathering.”
“Go well. I’ll send along your gift later.”
With those words, Halibur slashed downward.
A massive gate appeared in the void.
He opened it and stepped through slowly.
Arthur, who had silently watched, muttered.
“Wow… I really almost died.”
Whitebeard turned his head.
“So you realize—you truly almost died just now.”
“Yes. Just who was that? I know he’s a Swordmaster, but I’ve never seen him.”
“A man who bore the title of Sword Emperor seven hundred years ago. The greatest blade on the continent.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
‘A swordsman who received the Sword Emperor’s title… seven hundred years ago?’
It was a title only ever bestowed upon the continent’s greatest swordsman.
To think not only that, but that Halibur was *that* man, seven centuries past.
‘No wonder I couldn’t even see his strike…’
As Arthur sighed in awe, Whitebeard groaned.
“Thanks to you, I moved rashly—my back aches.”
“Ah. Are you alright?”
“Of course not. Which is why… would you spare me some time?”
Arthur nodded.
“Of course. Shall we go somewhere for tea?”
Whitebeard chuckled.
“That would be nice. This way.”
With a tap of his staff, another portal opened.
Arthur followed him through.
And beyond lay a blue seashore, a beautiful sandy beach, and dazzling sunlight.
“Oh… where is this?”
“Huai Island. A place I frequent.”
“Huai Island?”
“You’ve been here?”
“No. But I heard recently it’s trendy to wear T-shirts from here. The ones with the palm trees.”
Whitebeard burst into laughter.
“Those shirts are fashionable? I’ll never understand the taste of the young.”
“I don’t get it either. What’s pretty about those clothes.”
Whitebeard waved his hand.
A table, chairs, and a blue parasol appeared.
He sat down, and Arthur seated himself opposite.
They looked at each other for a moment before Whitebeard spoke.
“You’ve changed a lot.”
“Me?”
“Absorbing all those bloodlines… even your skin looks better.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
“Oh? Whitebeard, you know about my ability?”
“Of course. How could I not?”
“Hmm… true. I’d suspected as much myself.”
Whitebeard tilted his head.
“What did you suspect?”
“The reason you’ve been helping me.”
Arthur smiled faintly.
“You’ve been helping me because you want my body, haven’t you, Whitebeard?”
Whitebeard’s expression sharpened.
“And what makes you think that?”
“Oh, a few reasons…”
Arthur trailed off with a smile.
“But honestly, I can’t see any other reason you’d help me. Am I wrong?”
Whitebeard fell silent.
And in that strange silence, he slowly turned his head.
“…Correct, little angel of Bayern.”
—
