Chapter 60 : Playground of Fiends

It was strange.

My eyes caught not the blades flashing toward me, but the raindrops that struck them.

I watched the droplets splinter into smaller beads as they bounced off the edges.

Strange indeed.

They rebounded, scattered—but never split cleanly in two.

I turned my wrist, tilting my blade upward.

A droplet fell on the edge.

It burst apart, yet did not cut neatly.

Why?

[Do you wish to know?]

I nodded.

The Heavenly Demon advised,

[Face them without channeling aura into your sword.]

“That will tell me?”

[Perhaps.]

Splish, splosh.

They charged through the rain.

“Kill him!”

“First one to gut him wins!”

Their shouts came muffled, as though I were hearing them from underwater.

It felt unreal.

I swung my sword without aura.

Clang!

It was blocked immediately.

The first attacker bared his teeth in a foul grin—several missing, leaving ugly gaps.

“Keheheh! That dagger’s mine!”

He shoved my sword aside, already moving to strike.

But my blade slid down his, as smoothly as a raindrop rolling off steel.

Slice!

My edge kissed his wrist.

“…Huh?”

Only then did he realize his hand had been severed.

Splurt!

Blood gushed. His weapon clattered to the ground.

“AAAH—”

Thrust!

Before the scream could leave his mouth, my sword pierced it.

His eyes rolled white as I tore the blade free.

Shhhhk!

He collapsed in the rain.

“Hrah!”

The second rushed me with a spear.

He thrust before even reaching me, using the weapon’s length to full advantage.

It came like an arrow, the sharp tip alone visible.

To me, it was a circle—a round target growing larger by the second.

I raised my sword toward it, calm.

Clang!

My tip struck just off-center.

Skrrrk!

The spear veered wide, missing my head by inches.

But my blade stayed true, unwavering, waiting.

“…Wha—”

The spearman impaled himself upon it.

From the beginning, my point had been aimed at his throat.

He twisted desperately, body contorting to escape.

But my edge followed faithfully, like a hound on scent.

Slice!

His head toppled free, spraying blood.

The headless body fell forward, momentum carrying it to the mud.

“Idiots!”

The third came, laughing.

I eased back—more shadows surged like a wave behind him.

He wielded a massive weapon shaped like a cartwheel, but lined with blades along its rim.

A chakram. I’d heard of it.

Raindrops clung to its edges, trembling until he swung. Then they sprayed toward me.

My instinct was to knock them away—then strike his neck.

But something compelled me. I raised my sword instead to test the drops.

As before, they burst, scattering, but would not cut.

What would it take to slice them cleanly?

If I could do that, perhaps this filth choking my chest would ease.

The chakram followed the rain, spinning toward me.

CLANG!

My blade couldn’t stop the brute force—it was hurled aside.

“Hrahaha!”

He roared with laughter.

The wheel whistled toward my chest.

I did not resist the push.

I leaned back, letting the force carry me.

Whssshhh!

The blades skimmed past.

Both palms hit the mud. My legs kicked up, striking.

Thwack!

Something burst beneath my foot.

“Urk—?”

The man froze mid-motion, face contorting.

I surged up, swinging.

Slice!

His head rolled, the body collapsing.

I kicked it into the onrushing horde, using the recoil to spring back.

It all happened in an instant.

Then I turned and ran, rain whipping against my body.

Whssst!

An arrow hissed through the downpour.

I caught it in the corner of my eye.

Strange—no raindrops clung to it.

Annoyed, I slapped it aside with a palm infused with inner strength.

Smack!

It spun, burying itself in some fool’s eye behind me.

The rest howled with laughter and chased harder.

I could have fled outright—lost them in the storm.

But they were still laughing.

And I still hadn’t learned how to cut water.

So I let them come.

When the pack thinned at the front, I turned, cutting one or two before slipping away again.

The dead thus far—all mana users.

None had yet revealed aura.

I realized then: the aura users were waiting.

Hanging back until I tired.

Or until someone else claimed the dagger—so they could take it by force.

Yes. Cunning bastards.

Aura users always were.

Shhhhhh—

The rain poured down.

And I ran through it like a maddened hound, carving them down one by one.

At times I caught raindrops on my blade.

And still, the steel could not split them.

I angled the sword like a mirror, watching the pursuers’ reflections. Then, without warning, I spun and slashed.

“Die!”

A blade thrust straight for my heart.

I slid mine beneath it, lifted sharply, and let the strike glance upward.

Shrrk!

The attack flew wide. In the same motion, I reversed my grip and drove the blade down.

Thrust!

It sank between neck and shoulder, punching through until I felt the heart give way.

The man’s eyes glazed before he collapsed.

“Got you!”

Clang! Clang!

Another came. Our blades clashed five times before I found his throat.

Two down. I spun away, running again.

A storm of weapons smashed into where I’d just stood.

“That slippery bastard—like a damned eel!”

“You’re dead once we catch you!”

Their roars echoed behind me.

But I was taking longer now to cut them down.

Meaning, only the stronger remained.

No more fodder.

And I noticed—the arrows had stopped.

Glancing up, I saw bloodstains on a rooftop where the archer had been.

I clicked my tongue inwardly.

I told you to stay back…

Then—

Whooom!

Wind split the air ahead.

From above, a massive hammer dropped.

If I kept running, it would smash me like tofu.

I could have dashed faster, slipped through—but instead, I chose to match his rhythm.

BOOOM!

I planted my foot and stopped dead.

A normal man’s ankle would’ve snapped, but the capricious winds of the Swift Step wrapped me, softening the strain.

The hammer crashed down, shaking the ground. Mud and rain splashed high.

Its wielder revealed himself—the beast-pelted brute I’d seen before.

He grinned at me.

That swing wasn’t meant to kill, but to halt me.

And it worked.

Behind me, the wave surged. Before me, the hammer-beast barred the way.

A trap, a pincer.

He tilted his head, smirking, as if to ask: What now?

What else?

I pulled the dagger from my robes and held it high.

“You want this?”

All eyes turned to it.

I tossed it into the storm-dark sky.

“Fetch.”

Chaos erupted.

Rain fell like heaven itself had split, mixing with blood to form a sucking mire.

Their howls split the downpour.

Kill. Be killed. Again and again.

A man seized the dagger—his arm was severed, then his neck.

Another grabbed it, fending off blows for only moments before being torn down.

One snatched it and ran ten paces before a spear punched through his gut.

Blood and mud churned as they tore one another apart for the prize.

“Heheh…”

Fiends wallowed in filth, clawing, biting, ripping each other apart.

All for a scrap of steel.

I watched from a distance, arms folded.

Then raised my sword to catch the rain again.

Still, the drops burst, never sliced.

Again. And again.

As I practiced, the beast-cloaked man chuckled.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I didn’t stop.

“Cutting rain.”

He snorted. “Madman.”

I answered evenly, “If you don’t know the truth of cutting rain, you may as well die ignorant.”

“What truth?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He grinned. “You’re insane.”

I judged him then—the one who had gathered these devils.

But I didn’t care who he was.

He would die regardless.

I kept slicing in the rain, then asked, “Why aren’t you playing?”

He shrugged. “Saving my turn.”

“That so.”

“And you? Why just watch? That toy is yours.”

I nodded.

“It is.”

At last, I lowered the sword and looked at the slaughter pit.

Screams, curses, laughter, agony—it was a playground for demons.

“They’re having fun.”

Perhaps if I killed them all, I’d learn how to cut rain.

Only one way to know.

Splish.

I strode toward the playground.

“I’ll play first.”

“Go ahead.”

I raised my sword and leapt into the mire.

“Let me join.”

Shhhhhh—

Rain poured down as I plunged into their playground.

I moved without thought—striking, evading, parrying, stabbing.

To me, it was no different than dancing beneath the moonlight.

And as blood and rain streamed down my blade, I caught my reflection.

The man in the steel was smiling.

(End of Chapter)

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