BBYW Vol. 4 Chapter 65 (WN)
Chapter 65 – The Sword Saint and the Poisoned Blade
“Indeed, I am the mastermind behind it all. Are you surprised?”
“Surprised? I sure am. I am so surprised, I could kill you.”
“I’m afraid that would be an inconvenience, so I’m going to offer some resistance, Sir Dyngir.”
Benamis chuckled, then raised in his right hand in my direction. The next instant, the blade piercing Nahib’s body started moving on its own, and returned to his hand.
The blade, now fully visible, was enveloped in a sort of purple mist. It clearly was no ordinary sword.
“Is that sword some kind of Magic Tool?”
“Indeed, it is. This piece of my collection is Nidhogg, or the ‘Flowing Venom’. As for its abilities…voila.”
Benamis pointed the blade towards the ground and gave it a slight shake. The grass on the ground drenched in the purple mist wilted away in the blink of an eye.
“It can infect whatever it cuts with poison. Every strike from this blade is lethal…I suppose you can put it like that.”
I clicked my tongue and looked towards Nahib.
“Aah…gwaah…ggh…gwaaah…”
The man still seemed to be alive, barely, but his whole body twitched and his skin had turned a bluish-purple color.
“H…help…I don’t want to…dddie…gaah…”
Eventually, Nahib’s body gave one last big jolt, then became absolutely still. There was no way he was going to move another inch, let alone speak on the witness stand.
“Hmph, if he was going to be killed, I wanted to be one to do it…so, are you going to let me slice you up instead?”
“Hmm, I’m afraid that would be a problem. Actually, if possible, I wouldn’t want to fight you, Sir Dyngir.”
I had my sword drawn and at the ready, but Benamis put Nidhogg back in its sheath.
He then spread his arms wide and smiled, as if to show that he wasn’t hostile.
“I…I am not going to lay another finger on the western province. In addition, I can also promise that I will not meddle negatively with the weakened House Sphinx. What do you say, can we settle things?”
“…after everything you’ve done, you think you can just prance away like that? Do you even know how many people died?”
“Not that many, I think? I doubt they even reach the ten thousand threshold.”
Benamis cocked his head to the side, as if puzzled by my question.
“In our plan. The western province was going to fall, with a death count twenty times that…but because of your involvement, Sir Dyngir, it all went awry. I honestly think you should be apologizing right now.”
Benamis did not seem to be joking. He seemed to truly believe that ten thousand victims were a trifling matter.
I shot an even sharper glare at the young man before me — who still maintained a completely innocuous air about him.
“I see. I’ve seen a fair share of battlefields, and think that it’s a miracle that in a war of this extent, the number of casualties is that small…but anyway, it’s time you go to hell!”
“Kh…!?”
I swung my sword, aiming at the man’s head. Benamis, his sword still sheathed, blocked the strike with the scabbard.
“Oh my, so the negotiations have broken down? What a shame.”
“Even if, for one second, we put the ten thousand dead aside…you’ve made my cute little penpal cry, and there’s no way I can forgive that!!”
I forced the swing down, but Benamis deftly dodged my sword away and took a step backwards.
The lightness of his movements was honestly impressive. The title of Sword Saint he had inherited was not wasted on his shoulders, apparently.
“It’s too late, though!!”
“Whoa!?”
I leaped forward, pressing closer to Benamis, much to his surprise.
He was certainly a first-rate swordsman: I had no intention of denying it.
In the end, however, he was “just” first-class.
My father, Captain Drake, Valon…he was nothing in comparison to such exceptional masters.
(I’ll cut you down!!)
Focusing my killing intent into the blade, I unleashed a powerful slash towards the young Sword Saint.