I Can See the Sword’s Memories

Chapter 46: The Adenia Pursuit (3)

The situation seemed to have concluded. The Reincarnator they had been pursuing was killed, achieving their objective. That should have been the end of it.

‘Something’s off.’

I scanned my surroundings. The forest, veiled in thick mist, was eerily silent. My expanded senses picked up nothing, yet I couldn’t relax.

The grip on the sword in my hand didn’t loosen, and my body remained tense as if ready to spring into action at any moment.

The instincts of a hunter who had roamed the vast snowy plains freely whispered to me: the fight wasn’t over. 

Even after confirming the opponent’s death with my own eyes—even after delivering the final blow myself—my instincts insisted otherwise.

“Saeran, what do you think?”

I asked my sister, hoping for some insight. But no answer came. I began walking slowly toward the Reincarnator’s corpse.

The man’s body, with a gaping hole where his heart should have been, oozed black blood. He wasn’t breathing, and his body lay utterly still.

I crouched down and grabbed the corpse’s head.

‘This is…?’

I was too late to notice. The physical characteristics didn’t match Partman, the intended target. The face belonged to someone who appeared far older than a 20-year-old male.

‘Closer to his 40s…’

Suddenly, I remembered the report about a missing informant. It was at that moment that the rigid corpse began to swell.

“You…!”

Boom!

A heavy explosion rang out, shaking my ears. The pain followed. My skin burned, and one side of my vision turned red.

I had been too slow to realize it. A living being would normally radiate hostility. But since this was a dead body, I had sensed nothing.

“Cough…!”

I didn’t know how many steps I staggered back. Blood spilled in streaks onto the ground, tracing my faltering footsteps. 

Even in such a state, I didn’t release my sword. I maintained my defensive stance and surveyed the surroundings with half my vision.

My condition was severe. The rapid activation of the White Dragon Heart’s breathing technique dulled the pain, but my knee sank to the ground.

Propping myself up with my sword, I gasped for breath.

The corpse had exploded. Bone fragments from the man’s body pierced through my skin.

Where the black blood had touched, my skin turned dark. Numbness spread through the affected areas, and my breathing grew labored.

‘Poison…’

I stayed alert, forcing myself to administer first aid. Scooping up the bubbling hot spring water nearby, I washed my skin, then poured a healing potion and antidote from my supplies into my mouth.

“Haa…”

It was only emergency treatment. My condition hadn’t improved much. Still gripping my sword, I pushed myself to my feet. The opponent wasn’t dead. He had cunningly seized an opportunity to strike at me.

‘I’m sorry, Saeran.’

I apologized to my sister, who might be watching this unfold. My negligence had allowed this body to be injured.

‘If it scars, that’ll be a problem…’

I couldn’t let her beautiful face get marred. A deep sigh escaped me as I suppressed the rage boiling within. My trembling left hand gently touched the wound.

That’s when it happened. A strange sensation spread through my left hand. My fingers moved slightly, as though they were acting on their own.

It wasn’t me. Yet the touch felt familiar. My left hand, moving on its own, dipped into the blood trickling down my face and began drawing patterns.

Before hunting, warriors of the White Frost Tribe would receive ritualistic markings infused with shamanic power. Before going on a hunt, I had once asked Saeran to inscribe those marks on my face.

Beneath my cold, sharp gaze, a red line appeared, stretching down and expanding my field of vision to encompass a broader world. The line swirled lightly as it extended to my ears.

My hearing sharpened. Even without using mana, I could hear the faint hum of insects hundreds of steps away.

The red markings that flowed down to my ears continued past my lips, swirling downward in the shape of fangs, igniting a fiery warmth within my body.

My muscles tensed, and my heart pounded fiercely. The mana coursing through me forcibly expelled the poison, pushing the blackened blood out through my torn skin.

Something connected within me. I felt as though the top of my head had been blown open, merging my senses with something descending from the heavens.

At that moment, a white wind blew. Like frost settling in, the wind coalesced before me, taking the form of a massive wolf.

‘A wolf god…?’

It had no physical form. Reaching out, I found I couldn’t touch it. Yet, its presence was undeniable.

“A spirit…”

Shamanic power had infused this frail body. This was surely Saeran’s doing. I clutched my chest, hoping to hear her voice beyond the pounding of my heart.

But I heard nothing.

Still, I understood. My sister wanted to help me, lending her strength to achieve my goals.

It was a peculiar feeling. My mind expanded in ways I could only describe as having “opened.” The wind brushing between my fingers felt new. Every sensation—taste, touch, sight, smell—felt heightened, as though I had been reborn.

[Growl…]

The white wolf wagged its tail, urging me forward. Following its gaze, I saw things I hadn’t noticed before.

Wisps of something pale floated on the breeze. Instinctively, I knew—they were souls drifting through the air.

I ran alongside the wolf. My body felt light. Even without using mana, strength surged through me. 

The wind pushed against my back, propelling me forward. Puddles underfoot rebounded as I leaped over them.

Elsewhere, Partman chuckled. Through the eyes of a connected corpse, he had seen the girl enveloped in the poisonous miasma. The body had burst, releasing corrupted souls that harmed her flesh.

No matter how skilled a swordsman might be, no one could survive with a tainted soul. He waited quietly for the Empire knight to die.

‘Finally, I can claim to be a Death Knight…’

The oddity of two souls bound within one body didn’t bother him much. He could simply tear apart the unnecessary one and embed it in his sword, further enhancing the Death Knight’s power.

‘This insane world…’

Partman looked up at the sky, trying to glimpse something beyond the gray mist and the blue sky above it.

But he saw nothing. His cultivation in this place hadn’t yet reached that height.

It resembled a landfill. Just before he fell into this world, he had seen it—a multitude of souls being sucked through a narrow passage.

It was nearly impossible to find a single untainted soul among them. What was the purpose? For what reason was that immense entity summoning countless souls into this world?

In his current state, he had no way of knowing. At the very least, he needed to restore his former strength. 

Once the king of the dead, who had ruled over half of Earth, he now found himself reduced to this pitiful state.

By stitching together torn souls, expanding their form, and increasing their power, he could climb higher. Perhaps, eventually, he would reach it.

“Soon…”

The time was near. As Partman waited for the knight to die, he rose from his seat, preparing to leave the cave.

Suddenly, a chilling breeze brushed against his cheek. Impossible. In this place where geothermal heat boiled all around, a cold wind was unthinkable.

“A wolf…?”

Along with the wind came a hazy wolf. Partman could tell it wasn’t a physical being.

Step.

Small footsteps echoed through the cave. Saeorin emerged, her eyes fixed on her opponent. Through the vision granted by the shamanic markings, she could perceive the soul before her, saturated with death.

The twisted soul was screaming, its form so fragmented it no longer resembled a human. It was a grotesque amalgamation of other creatures’ souls, crudely stitched together, emitting a foul stench.

[You… You… What… What is that…?]

I tilted my head. The language spilling from my opponent’s mouth was unfamiliar. It wasn’t the tongue of the nomadic tribes beyond the snowy plains, nor the common language of the continent.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

What exactly was he seeing? His trembling gaze wasn’t focused on me but on something behind me. I glanced over my shoulder.

There was nothing.

I asked one final question.

“Do you plan to apologize to my dear sister?”

This man had dared to call my sister a wraith. If he offered a proper apology, I was willing to end his life painlessly.

[What nonsense is this…?]

Whoosh!

It happened in an instant. As ominous energy flared from Partman’s body, my form vanished into the wind.

The wolf’s ghostly silhouette surged through the cave at a sprint.

[Aaagh!]

I was struck. Yet, there was no sensation of the blade biting into flesh. My sword cleaved through not the man’s body but his soul.

The fragmented soul howled in agony, its form dimming and scattering. Seizing that moment, the massive wolf opened its maw and devoured the soul.

The wolf, now having consumed the soul, rushed toward me. I let it approach, sensing no hostility. My sister’s soul within me urged me to allow it.

Whoosh—

As the wolf’s form touched my body, a pure white mist spread outward. Like a cloak made of snow, the transparent mist draped over my shoulders.

“Ah…”

The fullness that had filled my body dissipated. The expanded awareness I had gained closed, and my senses returned to their normal state.