Chapter 32
But that sheep… survived.
Thoom!
The sheep slammed into the mutant bear with its tightly curled horns.
Crack!
It sounded like a tree snapping—but it was the bear’s foreleg that broke. The beast collapsed, whimpering in defeat.
Kooohhh…
The sheep charged again and trampled the bear beneath its hooves.
Like a true predator, it sank its teeth into the bear’s chest. Its jagged, rock-hard teeth tore through the mutant bear’s thick hide—and only then did I get a clear look at the mutant sheep’s face.
“Trickster’s mark!”
There it was—burned into the furless face. The skin was twisted as if seared by red-hot iron. It was the same mark I’d seen on other monsters.
Tap tap.
I gestured to the hunters.
There was no way we could take on that thing right now.
“You—go to Zylson and bring back knights. Tell them we don’t need soldiers. You— head to Hebron and bring the knights here. And you—go to the Rainbow Bridge construction site and find the mage, Bartman. Tell him it’s my personal request; he must come quickly.”
“Yes, Baron!”
I sent the three hunters off and remained behind with only the blood wolf pup. I planned to regroup with the slave soldiers next.
We might have to mount a defense if things went poorly.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Luckily, the mutant sheep took its time chewing. It dug into the dead bear’s chest and ripped out the heart to eat.
I slowly turned to leave.
Shrr
A chill ran up my spine.
Every hair on my body stood on end as a surge of primal terror gripped me. It felt like invisible spiderwebs had wrapped around me, immobilizing even my fingers.
Those glowing red eyes turned toward me—leisurely, arrogantly, as if enjoying this situation. The sheep strutted forward, gaze locked on mine.
Blood welled up in its eyes.
I finally understood why demon mages used sheep as a symbol of the devil. That innocent face masked a murderous will.
Snap!
A sharp pain in my right calf.
The blood wolf pup had bitten me.
In that instant, my senses snapped into focus. I clenched my fingers and drew a deep breath, channeling my aura.
Hsssss!
My sword shimmered with pale light as I swung. The mutant sheep had wandered into striking distance—and the moment I attacked, it vanished in a blur.
‘I hit it—definitely!’
A heavy thump hit the ground… it was a clump of wool.
‘Even with an aura-imbued blade, this is all I managed?’
The sheep’s wool was tougher than armor. It was so thick, piercing through the flesh would be a challenge.
THUD!
A crushing impact slammed into my back.
As I was thrown to the ground, I caught a glimpse of the blood wolf pup wrestling with the sheep.
I hit the dirt and shouted.
“Inferno!”
Swooosh!
Inferno created a wall of fire in front of me.
The mutant sheep leapt through the flames like it was performing in a circus act. But its jumping power wasn’t great, and its wool burned easily.
It became a blazing fireball hurtling straight at me.
But—I could track its movements. It looked slow. And I felt lighter.
A benefit from absorbing the goblin assassin’s energy?
‘The unprotected part…’
This had to end in one blow. I poured everything I had into my sword.
Hsssssss!
The longsword screamed, not from instability, but from sheer intensity. I aimed its tip at a single point.
The forehead of the charging sheep met the tip of my sword.
Crackle!
My aura collided with the energy emanating from the sheep.
More precisely—the cursed mark on its forehead surged with a terrifying force, trying to repel mine.
Thunk!
The sword pierced its forehead—just off-center from the mark. I drew a new stroke across the scarred mark.
CLAAAANG!!
Suddenly, the sword shattered. The impact hurled me backward.
Like a severed kite, I tumbled through the air and slammed into something.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
The blood wolf pup rushed to my side, barking frantically—but its voice sounded distant, as if from the bottom of a well.
Even though I could feel its presence right next to me, the sound seemed to come from somewhere far away.
Wheeeeeeeeing!
A sharp ringing pierced my ears.
My vision blurred. My eyes fluttered shut against my will.
‘I have to live. I will survive. This won’t kill me.’
I couldn’t die.
No—my body wouldn’t even let me die. The healing abilities I’d gained from hunting the orc were already working to restore the damage. That was likely the only reason I hadn’t lost consciousness.
–Aura cultivation begins at the crown. Grace that begins in the heavens flows through the dantian and returns to the earth. Thus, man, who stands between heaven and earth, becomes the agent of all creation…
I recalled the Antaria Aura Cultivation Method.
It came to me unconsciously, while I was half out of my mind.
–It begins in the dantian! He who masters his dantian masters the world! One who cannot even master his own dantian is unworthy of the Breio bloodline!
The Breio method followed, echoing in my ears like a phantom voice.
Snippets of aura theory I’d learned over time swirled in my head like an auditory hallucination.
–It’s okay to be wrong. No, there is no wrong to begin with. Trust your instincts. As I trust you, you must trust yourself. My son, walk your path.
Hebron’s teachings mixed in—no, they overlaid every other theory. My father’s voice rested atop them all like a scab forming over an infected wound.
That alone allowed me to breathe again.
“Haaah!”
My breathing hitched. With too many theories swirling in my mind, the aura gathered in my dantian began to run out of control.
The Antaria Aura Cultivation Method…
I couldn’t recall it.
I was no theoretical genius. That was Louis de Breio. He could take every method and synthesize them into his own theories. But Louis de Hebron could barely contain the knowledge in his head.
And in the end… things unraveled.
My vision went blank. I descended the stairs of self-destruction, powerless to stop myself.
Each step felt light. No, I wasn’t walking. I was falling.
–It’s okay to be wrong. No, there is no wrong to begin with. Trust your instincts. As I trust you, you must trust yourself. My son, walk your path.
I had forgotten everything else, yet the memories of Louis de Hebron remained vivid.
My father’s voice echoed in my skull. It reached into my chest. No, Louis had accepted that truth long ago.
The one who hadn’t accepted it… was me.
“Ah!”
And then, I saw a path.
I had done nothing but follow my instincts. But in that moment, a massive aura circuit—an Aura Road—unfolded within me.
From that great path, countless fine branches extended—microchannels of energy.
‘That’s the road I’m meant to walk.’
There was no theory to back it up. It was a realm far beyond the grasp of my dull intellect.
But my body… my body far surpassed that dullness.
KRAAHHHHH!
Aura surged—not only through my blood—but through every fiber of my being.
‘I can handle it!’
Very little energy flowed in from outside. The energy that roared through me came from within—power I had always possessed but never fully used.
My own, untapped strength!
KRAAAHHHHH!
The inner waterfall burst into a thousand tributaries, awakening every cell in my body.
The same awakening happened in my mind. My thoughts cleared, and new ideas flooded in—things I’d never grasped before. It felt like I had become Louis de Breio again.
‘Hebron is…’
I shook my head.
This wasn’t about Hebron anymore. This was about my path.
“Hooo…”
I calmed my breathing.
The surging aura had already stabilized—no, it had become a part of me.
The amount of aura in my dantian was about the same as before, maybe slightly more. But the power I could wield had doubled. The aura coursing through the microchannels enhanced my body, and I could now control it with newfound precision.
Swoosh!
When I opened my eyes, Inferno greeted me with a blaze of fire. Inferno had stayed by my side throughout the cultivation process.
He looked pleased—and he had reason to be. The improvement in my aura had strengthened him as well.
It seemed I could keep Inferno with me all day now without issue.
As I tried to rise, a throb of pain shot through my forehead. I reached up and felt a rough scar under my fingertips.
Most wounds healed cleanly thanks to my regeneration, but this one remained, bold and raised.
‘Did I get this wound while fighting?’
I couldn’t remember. It must’ve happened while I was momentarily dazed.
Baaaaaaa.
At the sound, my hand instinctively moved to my sword hilt. I drew the sword—but it no longer had the same weight. The sword had shattered and scattered. The wound on my forehead might’ve come from one of its flying fragments.
“So you're still alive, huh?”
I faced the sheep, holding a sword without a tip. Right now, I felt like I could easily kill this thing.
But oddly enough, I felt no murderous intent. It was because the sheep was trembling all over.
Come to think of it, neither Inferno nor the blood wolf pup had attacked it. That meant it hadn't harmed me while I was unconscious.
Baaaaaaa!
The sheep buried its face in the ground. It almost looked like it was bowing to me—or maybe just foolishly trying to hide its face from view.
“What kind of insane act is this now? You want me to cut off your head?”
I looked down at the broken sword still attached to the hilt. Less than twenty centimeters remained, and it looked like it could shatter any moment.
‘This is enough.’
I poured aura into the sword. If Sir Brown had seen it, he would’ve had a heart attack.
Even fully-forged swords often broke under the pressure of aura. A broken one? That was practically asking for it.
Hsssss.
The sword’s hum was softer than before. A faint, pale light formed at the jagged edge, replacing the missing blade. It wasn’t long enough to be called a proper sword beam, but a short twenty-centimeter aura edge formed at the tip.
Even then, the sheep kept its face pressed into the dirt.
Its thick wool trembled violently.
Awooooo.
The blood wolf pup howled. Standing by the sheep’s side, it looked up at me with pleading eyes.
“You… You’re siding with this thing? Don’t get cocky. You’re a beast I took in. Livestock should obey their master. And disobedient livestock gets beaten.”
Squeak.
The blood wolf pup nudged the sheep’s horn with its head, urging it to lift its face.
Slowly, the sheep raised its dirt-smeared face to look at me.
“There’s no… mark?”
Its face was the only part of its body not covered in fur.
Even its thick coat extended over solid, clawed hooves.
But its face was clean. The Trickster’s mark had vanished.
In its place was a sword wound—swollen flesh shaped exactly like the width of a sword.
‘No way… this…’
I reached up and touched my own forehead.
‘Why?’
The wound on the sheep’s forehead matched mine exactly. Both of us bore diagonal gashes—sword wounds, as if a sword had pierced both our heads.
Strangely, I felt a bond with the sheep.
I didn’t dislike the way it looked up at me.
I liked that it feared me.
‘Even if the Trickster’s mark is gone… it’s still a mutant sheep.’
