Chapter 65 : I’ll Pay You Back Later

From the opposite road, Sir Roetgel appeared.

When he spotted me, his pace slowed.

We stopped a short distance apart, staring across at each other.

“Mm.”

I let my eyes sweep over him.

The splendid beard was still there.

But his leather armor was scratched and torn, and the once-proud mantle was full of holes.

Something had happened. He looked rougher, harsher than before.

Like a pet dog that disappeared one day, only to return from the wild as a predator.

This was Roetgel, reclaimed by the wilderness.

“…”

“…”

We stood in silence for a time, glaring at each other.

I gave a small nod first, “Sir Roetgel.”

He nodded back, “Devil.”

“Been a while.”

“Not that long.”

His tone was sharp.

“It was just a greeting. Why so prickly?”

“I meet the bastard who beat me like a dog and stole my sword. How could I not be prickly?”

“Mm. When you put it like that, fair enough.”

I nodded in agreement.

His glare was murderous, “And on top of it, you shoved that garbage sword of yours into my hands and left. Devil, was that your idea of mocking me?”

I waved my hands quickly, “Wait, that wasn’t my intention.”

“Shut up.”

Normally I wouldn’t shut up just because someone told me to, but somehow, guilt tied my tongue.

He studied me for a moment, then said, “Being beaten like a mutt by you… I learned something.”

“Oh? An insight? Congratulations.”

I clapped my hands.

The sound echoed emptily, so I nudged Shushruta with my elbow.

She glanced at me, then politely clapped along.

Together, we gave Roetgel a round of applause.

“Congratulations.”

“Congratulations, Sir Roetgel.”

His expression was caught somewhere between awkward and bewildered as our applause washed over him.

It felt like enough, so I stopped and asked, “What did you learn?”

“You’ll find out for yourself.”

His lips curled in a sly smile, like some back-alley thug. “I’m not the man you knew.”

I rubbed my palms together, grinning back. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”

He glanced at Shushruta, who was watching curiously, “Lady. Step aside.”

Shushruta looked to me, as if for permission.

I tilted my head slightly. She obeyed, stepping quietly to the roadside.

Only then did Roetgel draw his blade.

Shhhk—

The white sword gleamed as if it split the sunlight itself.

“Oh.”

Say what you will about him, the man had an eye for good steel.

Where did he even find such fine blades?

The sword was white as snow, maybe even finer than the one I had carried.

Or maybe it only looked finer because it was in his hands.

After all, other people’s rice cakes always look bigger.

With the pristine sword drawn, Roetgel asked, “Ready?”

I gripped my hilt, beginning to draw—then hesitated.

I remembered: my blade had once gleamed like his.

Now it was ragged, beaten into rags.

And here stood the man who had entrusted it to me.

A pang of guilt struck.

“…No.”

“Ready or not, I’ll strike anyway.”

For a knight to attack an opponent unarmed…

I couldn’t help but sound a little impressed, “You’ve grown, Sir Roetgel.”

He nodded, “Thanks to you. Now draw your sword.”

I wavered, “…Can’t I draw it later? Or maybe fight like this—it wouldn’t be so bad.”

His voice hardened, “Mock me again and it’ll be the last mistake you make, Devil.”

“I’m not mocking—”

“I was beaten within an inch of my life by you, and still I show respect. Show me the same courtesy.”

“…”

I had no rebuttal.

“…Fine. I’ll draw.”

“Do it.”

Awkwardly, I pulled my blade.

No ringing note, not even a whisper.

It felt like handing in a ruined assignment to a stern teacher.

When Roetgel saw the blade, his face froze.

The point he’d leveled at me drooped lifelessly.

“No…”

His eyes locked onto the sword in my hand with a look like a man who’d lost his country.

His lips trembled before sound finally escaped.

“Don’t tell me… that’s…”

I couldn’t meet his gaze, turning aside.

His voice cracked, almost weeping, “…No, right? My Winterer…”

So the sword even had a name.

That only made me feel worse.

“…No, right? Tell me it isn’t.”

“…”

I hid my expression, but it was bitter.

His voice shook, “Look me in the eye, Devil. Tell me straight. My Winterer—white as the first snow of winter. That rag in your hand… it isn’t her, is it?”

I faltered, then forced out a regretful answer, “I might’ve been a little rough with it…”

Roetgel clenched his jaw tight.

At last, he rasped, “What… what the hell did you do to it in just a few days?”

“Well, let’s see…”

I started babbling excuses, “Cut some flesh, split some bones, got soaked in rain, had it stolen by some shady bastard, dropped it in a gorge, in a mud pit, scraped it against Aura…”

“Enough.”

He shut his eyes, his face stricken.

“Winterer… even if she wasn’t with me, I thought she’d be fine. I believed she’d be safe. I trusted…”

His hand trembled violently.

A heavy silence lay between us.

Then his voice, hoarse with rage: “I’ll kill you, Devil.”

“Sorry.”

“Shut up!”

“….”

We circled each other slowly, swords leveled, like crabs sliding sideways.

He glared only at me.

I couldn’t meet his eyes, so mine drifted to his shoulders, his feet.

And so I noticed—his stance, his steps—they were different from before.

I was about to point it out when he spoke first, his voice still burning with fury.

“Devil. In just a few days, you feel different. Changed.”

“Ah, that so?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, “Plenty’s happened. You too—your aura’s different.”

“I told you. I had an awakening.”

“Must’ve been a big one.”

“Something like that.”

“You still not interested in the dagger?”

“I don’t care about the dagger. But your neck? I’ve got plenty of interest in that.”

“That’s… depressing news.”

We circled each other a second time, eyes locked—

“Winterer’s vengeance!”

Roetgel suddenly lunged.

His blade split the air with frightening speed.

“Whoa!”

The force of it startled me—I had to snap my head back to dodge.

Whoosh!

He pressed forward, one fierce strike after another.

His style was still that strange blend of knightly swordplay and mercenary grit.

Only now it was harsher, bolder, utterly without hesitation.

And every blow carried a sharpness and weight that hadn’t been there before.

He was stronger. Faster.

At first, I didn’t want to ruin what would soon be my sword, so I kept dodging. But—

Clang!

At last, I had to raise my own blade to deflect him. Dodging alone wasn’t enough anymore.

Roetgel grinned, “Finally, you draw it.”

“Looks like you can use mana now, eh?”

“That’s right. After your beating, I awakened to it.”

Of course. Opportunity always comes to the desperate.

His movements were completely different from ordinary mana users.

In such a short time, he’d already learned to channel mana smoothly into his limbs, weaving it into his swordplay.

I noticed his tattered clothes, his worn cloak.

No doubt the process had been grueling.

But I bet it hadn’t felt like suffering.

He must have thrown himself into training, laughing and crying, forgetting time altogether.

Just as I had once done.

Now Roetgel’s swordsmanship truly shone. It glittered like starlight.

The moment when someone without talent finally blossoms, given the chance—

It was beautiful. Moving, even.

I was proud of him.

But of course, I’m not the type to say such sentimental nonsense out loud.

And neither was he.

We simply bared our teeth in matching grins and clashed blades.

Clang! Clang! Crash!

Then suddenly—his sword swept low, nearly cutting my ankle—before he kicked up a spray of dirt into my eyes.

“What the—!”

I blinked in surprise.

I’d scolded him before for being too honest and straightforward.

And now? He was pulling cheap, dirty tricks without hesitation.

His learning was like a sponge.

This bastard. Just how far is he planning to grow?

So much progress in just days—it was almost frightening.

But still—not enough to beat me.

In treachery, he was a novice.

I dropped low, hugging the earth, dodged the dirt and the following slash, then sprang up—

And drove my fist right into his groin.

“Guh!?”

He staggered back, clutching himself, eyes wide in shock.

“You… you vile—!”

“Heh. Relax. I went easy. Your manhood’s safe.”

I swung my sword lazily at him, toying with him.

“Kh!”

He blocked awkwardly, his stance broken—

Thwack!

And I slipped through his guard, landing a hit.

Once a crack opens, the flood rushes in.

I poured my qi into my fists, hammering him relentlessly.

“My left hand only knows how to punch.”

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Roetgel staggered under the barrage, then swung wildly to buy himself space.

I dodged back—

And he turned, without hesitation—

To run.

“…!”

My eyes went wide.

“Even fleeing in disgrace… the Thirty-Sixth Stratagem! Just how high does this man’s ceiling go?!”

“…”

I felt Shushruta’s incredulous stare on me, but that wasn’t important.

Seeing Roetgel throw away pride and sprint for his life, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Pass!”

I raised my hand and fired a spell.

Fwoosh!

The bolt of light struck him right in the knee.

Crash!

He sprawled face-first into the dirt.

“Eheheh.”

I wrapped myself in wind, dashed to him before he could rise, and stomped him mercilessly.

Every kick heavy with qi.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

“Ah, that’s good.”

“Gahhh!”

Roetgel collapsed, battered to a pulp—yet still, he clutched his sword.

I grinned, “Sir Roetgel. I’ll be taking this blade.”

“No!”

He lurched up like a man possessed.

“Yes.”

Wham!

My fist caught his jaw, dropping him like a puppet with cut strings.

“Lalalala~”

Humming, I pried his stiff fingers one by one from the hilt.

The thrill of receiving a gift never grew old.

I pressed my old ragged sword into his empty hand.

“Winterer, was it? Back to your master now.”

The sword seemed brighter already, as though happy to return.

It was almost touching.

I swapped the scabbards and buckled Winterer to my waist.

“Mm. Perfect fit.”

Then—my ankle was grabbed.

“Whoa! What—?”

Roetgel, eyes bloodshot, glared up at me, trembling.

“Just… one promise…”

Such tenacity.

“What is it? Say it.”

“Oil it… twice a day… morning and evening… you must…”

I crouched down, reassuring him, “Don’t fuss, Roetgel. Leave it to me. Trust me.”

I pressed a finger gently to his temple, cutting off his consciousness.

“You… bastard…”

His head slumped.

With Winterer now mine, I should’ve been flying high.

But guilt lingered—this was the second time I’d taken his sword.

I patted his head, “Thanks for the sword, Roetgel. I’ll use it well. I’ll pay you back later.”

Shushruta walked up, “How do you intend to pay him back?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“….”

The first time, I’d poured my qi into him, and he’d returned as a mana user.

Next time I saw him… would he have awakened Aura itself?

…Well. Maybe. Maybe not.

The Heavenly Demon’s booming laugh filled my ears, infectious.

And so, leaving Sir Roetgel collapsed behind us, we set off once more, running hard toward the Tomb of Ophosis.

(End of Chapter)

Tip: Tap/click the left or right side of the screen to go to previous/next chapter.