Chapter 163: Human Monster

The training ground fell completely silent, and the cheers that had filled the air only moments ago vanished as though they had never existed.

Pale faces stared toward the center of the battlefield, while even the knights stood frozen with their hands hovering near their weapons.

Elias could only stare.

Blood dripped slowly from the curved blade that had pierced through Belthon’s back and chest, each drop striking the stone beneath him with a quiet, terrifying sound.

His fingers tightened around Lastbane.

Belthon had been the first knight to acknowledge his strength.

He had known that the entire duel was a scheme created by someone more powerful, yet he had still chosen to help Elias, deliberately making him appear weaker than he truly was so that Berlic would have no excuse to use the duel against him.

And now he was dying because of it.

Something inside Elias snapped.

A fury far stronger than any emotion he had ever experienced surged through his body, drowning out every other thought as his grip around Lastbane tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his body had already moved.

"HOW DARE YOU?!"

Dust exploded beneath his boots as Elias launched himself forward, crossing the distance between himself and the robed man in less than a second.

Lastbane swept toward the man’s neck with overwhelming speed.

The robed figure reacted instantly.

He shoved Belthon away from the scythe, sending the wounded knight stumbling several steps aside, and then raised his curved weapon to meet Lastbane.

CLANG!

The collision produced a violent metallic screech, and sparks scattered across the training ground as the two weapons locked together.

Elias twisted his grip, allowing Lastbane to slide down the curved blade, and then he suddenly shifted his wrists.

The sword dropped lower.

The robed man immediately recognized the movement and jumped backward, but he was a fraction too slow.

Lastbane’s tip caught the edge of his robe and sliced through the fabric.

RIIIP!

The damaged robe fell loosely on his body.

Elias’s expression instantly changed.

His fury disappeared beneath pure disbelief.

The face revealed beneath the robe was one he knew.

"No..." Elias whispered.

The man standing before him was one of the six rangers who had entered the spatial rift alongside him.

It was Charles.

The same Charles who had supposedly died inside the rift.

The same Charles who had miraculously returned the following day.

Elias stared at him in complete disbelief.

Charles had never been an Advanced swordsman.

He had barely even known how to properly hold a sword.

Yet the exchange that had just occurred had been completely different from anything Elias remembered.

"Why did you do it?" Elias asked.

His voice carried across the silent training ground, and the question seemed to echo through the minds of everyone present.

’Why?’

The terrified civilians wanted to know.

The stunned knights wanted to know.

Even Berlic, who had remained unusually quiet, stared at Charles with a faint crease between his brows, as though the answer interested him as well.

Charles said nothing.

Instead, he raised his scythe-like arm and swung it sideways.

The remaining pieces of the torn robe were sliced away from his body, fluttering to the ground around his feet.

For the first time, everyone could see him clearly.

The crowd gasped.

Several knights instinctively grabbed the hilts of their swords, while some civilians stumbled backward in terror.

Charles still had the same face.

Yet there was something horribly wrong with it.

His eyes were completely hollow, devoid of even the slightest trace of life, while his skin had become unnaturally pale.

His right arm was no longer human.

A grotesque scythe had grown directly from his shoulder, its curved blade appearing to be a natural part of his body rather than a weapon he carried.

Below his neck, almost his entire body had lost its human appearance, and even his most private anatomy had disappeared beneath the pale, distorted flesh.

He looked less like a man than a monster wearing Charles’s face.

"W-What?" Elias stammered.

His eyes remained fixed upon the creature before him.

That arm...

It looked almost exactly like the scythe-like arms of the Rusted Reaper, and it was the same arm he had been unable to find.

His thoughts raced as he stared at Charles’s hollow eyes and pale flesh.

Even those features were beginning to resemble the Rusted Reaper.

’How could this be possible?’

’What had happened inside the rift?’

Before Elias could form another thought, something else caught his attention.

Belthon was still standing.

The wounded knight stared down at his hand in confusion, as though he could not understand why it had suddenly become covered in blood.

Blood continued pouring from the enormous wound in his chest, running down his armor and dripping onto the stone.

Normally, someone would already have rushed forward to heal him.

However, Belthon had made one severe mistake.

He had angered Berlic Draveon.

And those who angered the Smiling Serpent rarely lived long enough to regret it.

Charles slowly raised his scythe arm.

A dark, black sheen spread across the edge and surface of the blade, coating it in an ominous darkness.

Belthon’s eyes widened.

He suddenly gasped and stumbled forward.

One step.

Then another.

His boots dragged against the stone as blood continued dripping from his chest, leaving a thin trail behind him.

"Sir Belthon!" Elias shouted.

Belthon took another unsteady step.

Then his legs finally gave out.

His body collapsed forward, and his face struck the stone with a heavy thud.

"Sir Belthon!" The crowd shouted in horror.

Elias took a step toward him, but before he could move any farther, a strange glass-shattering sound suddenly resounded across Kilmir.

Beneath the sounds were screams.

Voices that seemed to belong to both males and females, overlapping into one horrifying cry that echoed through the entire city.

Everyone froze.

Elias slowly turned his head toward the direction of the sound.

The crowd did the same.

The knights looked toward the distant city, their faces drained of color.

BOOOOOONG!

A loud bell rang across Kilmir.

The sound rolled over the rooftops and through the streets, shaking the training ground with every echo.

Everyone’s heart sank.

Berlic’s expression finally changed.

He rose from his throne and stared toward the eastern gates.

"TO THE RIFT!"