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HELHEIM SCANS
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Chapter 42
Seeing that she even ignited her aura, it seems she got properly provoked.
Cascadia has its own unique martial arts and swordsmanship, passed down from previous generations.
I, too, tried to learn them from a young age, but realizing I had no talent, I gave up early on.
Sclang!! Shweeek!!!
A single sharpened sword, infused with aura, slashed through the air and came at me with ferocious intensity.
Yet, without moving too far from my spot, I dodged her attacks with just a few measured steps.
Unlike when she was simply blinded by rage, Melissa's expression hardened after exchanging just a few moves.
Your left side is open.
I swung my sword and lightly kicked her left leg to disrupt her flow.
“Ugh?!”
She must have relentlessly attacked, leaving no room for a counter.
A normal person wouldn’t even perceive the sword strikes that were exchanged dozens of times per second.
Yet, by dodging only what I needed to and cutting off her momentum with precise counterattacks, she was starting to grow impatient.
And impatience inevitably leads to mistakes.
“Ah?!”
Her sword swing wildly tore through the air.
A seasoned swordsman, not just an expert, would never make such an error.
But repeated counterattacks, disruptions, and growing desperation had led to this catastrophe.
Had this been a real battle, she would have died a meaningless death.
She hurriedly tried to recover her sword.
But I was already one step ahead.
I curled my index finger and thumb into a circle.
Smack!!!
And then, I unleashed a tactical nuclear flick to her forehead.
“Gyaaahhh?!”
Letting out a scream, she dropped her sword and rolled across the ground.
“This is so disappointing I feel like giving up.”
Since it wasn’t just a simple flick but a shockwave attack using aura, the pain was beyond imagination.
Of course, it was purely meant to be painful rather than lethal.
“You insane bastard! Were you trying to kill me?!”
Still clutching her forehead on the ground, she shouted in outrage.
“This is pissing me off! What the hell did you eat to turn into such a monster?!”
“Enough. There's a swordsmanship style that suits you. I was originally just going to teach you swordsmanship, but it looks like you’ll need to modify your martial arts foundation as well.”
Her eyes widened at my words.
She couldn’t possibly misunderstand my meaning.
I was telling her to abandon our family's martial arts.
For her, it would be difficult to accept, given that it had been passed down for generations.
“That’s…”
“Just learn it for now. But don’t forget—right now, you are the head of your family, Melissa. What you wield becomes your family’s swordsmanship. If you die, that lineage ends with you.”
“That’s something you should—”
“I’ll be blunt. I don’t practice my family’s swordsmanship.”
If you’re weak and die, none of it matters.
She hesitated for a long while before finally looking me straight in the eye.
“If I learn it… will I become stronger?”
Of course, I use a different swordsmanship myself.
The style I was about to teach her was one I once pursued but ultimately abandoned because I deemed it incapable of reaching the pinnacle.
But that didn’t matter.
It simply didn’t suit me.
However, for someone with her refined sword trajectory, it would be a perfect fit.
In fact, using just this swordsmanship, I had once reached the rank of Mind Master, then surpassed that boundary to become a Grand Master.
Yet, I ultimately discarded it in pursuit of a greater ideal.
“Phew… Fine. Not that you’d answer even if I asked for details. What’s the name of this sword style?”
After a brief pause, I flicked my fingers.
Dark deathly mana surged forth, pulling the sword she had dropped into my grasp.
At the same time, a black aura began radiating from my entire body.
As the dark energy fully merged into my sword, I slowly closed my eyes before reopening them.
“Heavenly Demon Divine Sword.”
With those words, an overwhelming tyrannical aura erupted, forcefully oppressing everything in the vicinity.
“Hmm… Yeah, it’s a little dramatic, but if I had to describe it simply… It’s a swordsmanship fit for the King of Hell.”
As my overwhelming aura spread, she instinctively clenched her fists.
Despite both being manifestations of aura, the nature of mine was entirely different from Melissa’s.
BANG!!!!
A domineering force surged forth, crushing everything beneath it like a ruthless conqueror.
The Heavenly Demon Divine Sword was not something I created based on memories of my past life.
Among the many enemies I faced in the Hall of Swords, there was one who fought with what seemed like martial arts.
That pitch-black figure had wielded a sword style that remained deeply engraved in my memory.
Boom!! Boom!!!
Each time my sword swung, it suppressed everything in its path.
It was a swordsmanship that forced absolute submission upon its opponents.
Domineering.
Merciless.
Yet smooth.
And dark.
Its grand structure was supported by 382 different variations.
Melissa watched in silence, utterly captivated by the display.
I didn’t expect her to grasp everything at a glance.
Like all skills, mastery would require endless training and introspection.
Since this wasn’t my primary swordsmanship, I was consuming a massive amount of stamina.
But I simply reinforced my body with aura.
Melissa's greatest strength was her flawless sword trajectory, one that rarely wavered.
And she never allowed foreign elements to disrupt her rhythm.
If that pitch-black swordsman I once fought in the Hall of Swords had seen Melissa…
Perhaps, he would have chosen her as his successor.
Of course, that was merely my speculation.
As I demonstrated the Heavenly Demon Divine Sword, she watched intently, determined not to miss a single movement.
By the time I was finished, a considerable amount of time had passed.
“That swordsmanship… it’s incredibly oppressive.”
Her assessment was short, concise, and accurate.
“The foundation of both your family’s swordsmanship and this one is aura circulation.”
Sword techniques, surprisingly, reveal their limitations quickly.
No matter how perfect a style may be, at its core, swordplay boils down to three fundamental principles—vertical cuts, horizontal cuts, and thrusts.
Just like how humans breathe unconsciously.
If anything, you have to actively think to hold your breath.
It was an automatic, instinctive phenomenon.
In other words, it is instinctual.
"First, you need to get used to your newly modified aura circulation."
Swordsmanship comes after that.
I immediately had her sit down and began forcibly modifying her aura circulation using my immense aura.
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HELHEIM SCANS
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Her body twisted in pain throughout the process, but I made not a single mistake or deviation as I altered her aura flow.
Blocking where needed, opening where necessary, and connecting passages that were originally disconnected.
Every time I did so, her face turned bright red from the pain, but I never stopped.
“Hic?! I… I think I’m going to die….”
It was as if she were in a state where simply being aware of her breathing was not enough—she had to deliberately force herself to breathe.
“How long do I have to do this? Huff… huff….”
She struggled to speak as she desperately controlled the aura that was trying to flow in reverse.
“About three days. I’ll leave you alone during that time, so just focus on getting used to it.”
In truth, she was more suited to the Heavenly Demon Divine Sword than our family’s swordsmanship.
Not only did swordsmanship and cultivation techniques match her well, but I was also determined to drill the essence of my insight into her.
Of course, the process wouldn’t be smooth.
But that wasn’t my problem.
* * *
The first day of training.
Melissa showed determination as she got used to her aura circulation and relentlessly practiced swordsmanship.
At the same time, she steadily progressed with preparations for the mining business.
The second day.
Her expression soured a little.
Perhaps it was because she hadn’t felt full-body muscle pain in a long time.
The third day, the fourth day…
By the end of the first week.
Melissa lost her smile.
By the time I visited her with a wooden sword in hand, I could see fear in her eyes.
"Um… can I take a break today?"
"Who said you could? Get up, now."
"But, uh… I’m a count and the family head. I have responsibilities…."
"And you think you're in any shape for that? What a weakling."
Grit…
I heard the grinding of her teeth, but she said nothing in return.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle the on-site mine inspection and write the reports.”
“No, that’s not what I meant….”
Yeah, I knew.
I knew that this training had long since surpassed what could be considered normal.
In fact, I was pushing her to an astonishingly brutal degree.
But I had no regrets about my actions, nor did I see any flaws in my approach.
Despite all her complaints, her aura had begun settling into place, circulating properly, and she was absorbing swordsmanship at a rapid pace.
I was also intentionally teasing her more than necessary to ignite her fighting spirit, but it wasn’t just for stress relief—it had a clear purpose.
Then, by the second week.
Melissa ran away.
She even managed to shake off Tyvel’s wraith, which had been hidden in her shadow.
"Where the hell is that girl?"
I glared at the empty office of the count’s estate.
“Hic?!”
A startled elf maid carrying a laundry basket gasped and took a couple of steps back.
"Where did Melissa go?"
“W-We’re looking for her too….”
She was one of the elves that Tyvel had originally captured for trafficking but had chosen to stay in the mansion voluntarily.
This particular elf was one of the better cases.
She simply wanted to repay the kindness of being rescued.
"Look me in the eyes."
As I approached, exuding an aura as terrifying as a demon from hell, tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
“P-Please spare me, young master….”
"I'm not going to kill you. Just tell me where our esteemed family head ran off to."
She averted her gaze at my words.
So, everyone knew that Melissa had run away.
They must have made a promise not to reveal it.
Well, I had my own methods.
I immediately led her to the kitchen.
Then, I revealed the Vanilla Ice Cream Mk.8, which I had refined over the past two weeks.
Gulp….
A flash of intense desire crossed the elf maid’s eyes.
Of course.
The Ice Cream Mk.8 was essentially a perfected product—one that I was planning to launch as a business.
The household servants who had tried even a single spoonful spread the word about how amazing it was.
Whenever I asked if anyone wanted to eat my "failed" batches, they would raise their hands and clamor for a taste.
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HELHEIM SCANS
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