The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 274

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 274: Why the Hell Would I Die Fighting Fair?

In the thick, blood-tinged fog, Ghir was facing off against a bizarre enemy.

Crack!

After catching a sword lunging at him from his blind spot with his bare hands, Ghir ripped out the enemy’s neck vertebrae and killed him instantly, then spoke toward the fog.

“Are you people... Dorharav?”

Swish!

A throwing knife came flying in instead of an answer.

Ghir caught it in mid air and frowned.

“When someone asks you a question, fucking answer.”

But really, he didn’t even need to hear a reply.

“Just seeing this ugly-ass throwing knife tells me enough. What the hell are you doing here?”

Dorharav.

They were the second most notorious assassin clan in the underworld of the Kingdom of Litvaleur, just behind the Svaltalfar.

“We came because we were hired. What other reason would we need?”

“Who the fuck just said that? Come out here.”

As Ghir unleashed a powerful burst of force, the blood mist in the direction of the voice was blown away.

“I figured. That shitty mask, did you buy it with your pocket money?”

A masked assassin wearing a fox mask responded.

“Ghir... the mad dog of the Svaltalfar, so fearless that he devoured his own clan, huh?”

“What's it to you how we handle our clan business?”

“Hah. Looks like your bloodline’s doomed anyway, so we figured we’d take this chance to kill off the brats and take the throne for ourselves.”

“Oh? So this is a two-for-one special, huh?”

Ghir smirked and twirled his dagger casually.

“Come at me, then.”

“Why should we?”

As if in response, a flurry of daggers, arrows, and all sorts of concealed weapons came flying toward him.

Ghir simply stood there, letting them bounce harmlessly off his body, reinforced with defensive martial arts.

Puh-puh-puh-puck!

Blades that should have torn human flesh to ribbons bounced off as if hitting iron—an uncanny sight.

“Who threw that last dagger? That one had some bite to it.”

As the small wound on his ear from the dagger healed on its own, one of the assassins sneered.

“A half-breed with troll blood, huh? No wonder you’re not afraid of blades.”

Ghir chuckled.

That kind of insult was old news—he’d already heard worse while fighting Allenvert.

“I know trolls well. I’ve cut up plenty of them. Even if you blow half their skull off, they regenerate. Not like me. So take notes.”

“No need to act calm. Everyone in the underworld knows how much the Svaltalfar mutts hate being called half-breeds.”

“How could you possibly understand the madness of our lineage—refining bloodlines across generations to create better assassins?”

Ghir shrugged.

“You call us mutts, but your so-called ‘pure blood’ looks pretty damn primitive to us.”

“What did you say?”

His black demon eye flared with ominous aura.

Tszszsz— His body began to blur, dissolving into the blood mist.

“Huh?”

Splat!

An extreme stealth attack—so fast and deadly it didn’t even leave a sound—instantly lopped off the heads of several assassins.

It was as if he were plucking ripe fruit off a tree and dropping them in a basket.

“That bastard’s finally pulling out magic techniques.”

Multiple voices echoed in the fog.

“Nightshade Phantom Arts.”

From within the mist, the number of assassins’ apparitions multiplied fivefold, tenfold.

“Hahaha. Parlor tricks, huh?”

Ghir sneered.

“Am I that scary? Can’t handle me without hiding in illusions like cowards?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Ghir didn’t bother responding.

He simply began eliminating the illusions one by one.

Boom! Shriek!

With every surge of mana, every gust of force, every slash, illusions vanished.

“Surround and attack!”

As more daggers came flying at him, Ghir laughed.

“Hah.”

A normal swordsman would’ve had to deflect or dodge each one but not Ghir.

He simply stood there, taking the illusions’ blades without flinching, until—

“This one’s real.”

Whenever a dagger with actual threat flew at him, he lunged in that direction and instantly killed the real body.

Crack! Squelch!

With each sickening crunch of collapsing bones and burst of blood, more illusions faded with their masters dead.

“What now? There aren’t many of you left.”

Ghir was already used to fighting illusion-type assassins.

“Use poison!”

The order came in desperation from their leader, but Ghir remained calm.

“You got poison that can kill me? Go on, try it.”

...But there wasn’t.

Ghir calmly picked off the remaining real assassins, blasting their bodies apart with punches, until he stood face-to-face with the man in the fox mask.

“Incredible... You’ve broken past the 7th tier, haven’t you?”

The masked man asked in disbelief. Ghir replied flatly.

“Seventh, sixth, whatever... Who gives a shit? This isn’t a damn pissing contest between kids.”

And with that—

SMASH!

Ghir’s fist shattered the assassin’s mask and crushed his face.

“...Hoo.”

Having slaughtered all of the Dorharav assassins, Ghir staggered slightly.

“If there’d been three more of them, I might’ve been in trouble.”

...Looks like that poison had some real kick to it.

Feeling woozy, Ghir leaned against a wall.

‘Shit. I’m getting drowsy.’

He smirked inwardly.

No way he’d actually die just because he fell asleep now, right? He closed his eyes for a moment.

***

Meanwhile, Siena was holding off the elite enforcers with an iron defense.

A combination of the Black Hawk Soul-Binding Sword Technique and the Falling Star Beneath the Azure Night Cultivation technique, along with her brilliant talent and real combat experience, made it so that no one could land a hit on her, despite their intent to drag the battle out.

“Don’t rush in. Her counters are sharp!”

Who would’ve expected that these battle-hardened elites, used to overwhelming enemies, would be struggling against a young swordswoman not even out of her teens?

“Enough.”

A man stepped forward, clearly rattled on behalf of the frustrated enforcers.

“State your name.”

From the mist of blood, a swordsman stepped forward.

“Arkan.”

Of average height but strangely thin, Arkan drew a long black greatsword.

It was long enough to reach his chest and said.

“Before I kill you, I’d like to see what kind of swordsmanship Valkenhain left behind. Go ahead, use whatever ultimate technique you’ve got.”

“How arrogant.”

Siena frowned at his disrespectful tone, then carefully studied his sword.

‘There’s something odd about that sword’s aura. It creates a kind of visual distortion.’

The top dogs of the underworld all practiced ancient magic-based martial arts.

Siena reminded herself of that and gripped her blade tightly.

Shrrreee!

As his slash came flying in, she blocked it carefully and their duel began.

‘Strange.’

The way his strikes curved and twisted midair was wildly unconventional and fast.

‘A rare master of the blade.’

It was clearly a different lineage than orthodox martial arts.

Because of that, Siena had to respond not just with strength, but with the analytical eye of someone who had already mastered the Black Hawk Soul-Shattering Sword.

She was reconstructing and reassessing her form on the fly to match the unfamiliar style.

“What’s wrong? Not going to use any ultimate techniques?”

She didn’t reply, conserving her breath as she focused on defense.

‘...An ultimate move isn’t everything.’

Relying solely on powerful techniques would make you a half-baked warrior.

“If you’re going to keep cowering like that, just die already. This is boring.”

After releasing a wave of strong pressure and retreating back into the mist, Arkan activated his magical martial art.

A sinister aura writhed at the tip of his blade, preparing to unleash an unknown killing technique.

‘Now.’

Siena flared her aura like a torch. As if to meet his ultimate move with one of her own—

ScreeeEEE—

That’s why, when Arkan’s special technique tore through Siena’s sword energy and came flying in, it looked like she had lost the clash of techniques.

“Die like this, Siena.”

Arkan’s second strike flew in, confident of victory.

Splurt!

Blood sprayed into the air.

“...What?”

Arkan’s heart was pierced by Siena in one fell swoop.

He looked at Siena with disbelief in his eyes.

“...You tricked me.”

Siena had only cloaked her left arm in Black Dragon Scale Lock Armor and took the attack head-on, driving her sword deep into Arkan’s heart.

Thud!

Arkan collapsed backward, the life draining rapidly from his eyes.

“...I see. The first time was a feint. She used the mana she gathered to release a technique... for defense, turning it into a mutual kill.”

Even as he died, Arkan tried to analyze the method that defeated him.

Then his neck twisted to the side.

Huff...

Siena gently loosened her wrist and exhaled the breath she’d been holding in.

‘...It’s broken.’

Her left arm, clad in Black Dragon Scale Lock Armor, had snapped from the impact.

‘I had to trade a shattered bone just to stab him in the heart and barely win.’

Siena had broken through her limits, and her mind swirled with a mix of euphoria and relief.

But now was not the time to savor the victory.

“...What the hell is that?”

The technique from Blood Forest Abyss Art that Gelberich had unleashed.

Blood Forest was consuming the entire battlefield.

***

Blood-colored branches twisted like tentacles, destroying the city and attacking people.

A hell unleashed upon the human world brought forth by one single demon.

Pushing through all resistance, I approached that demon and spat out a curse.

“You disgusting bastard.”

“Tired of me already? I’m the one who’s sick of this shit.”

Gelberich’s limbs were rooted deep in the crimson earth, like some grotesque mushroom parasitizing a tree.

“Kaimak once ate a mushroom that looked exactly like you and caught a disease that made him laugh nonstop.”

I threw a blow fueled by fury at this hideous toadstool of a man.

“Profound Radiant Heaven Rend.”

I fused Dark Soul Mana and Brilliant Spirit Mana, blended it with the mana of black flames and the mana of the Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique, unleashing a devastating technique that swept through the blood-soaked forest.

KWAAAAAAAM!

The explosion was so deafening it numbed even the ears, and half of Gelberich’s body was blown away.

But—

“...What the fuck.”

The tentacles connecting to Gelberich’s body wriggled and pumped elixirs into him, and the bastard’s body began to regenerate.

‘That’s not even remotely human anymore.’

Even I felt my energy drain at the sight.

“You look exhausted. Want some help?”

“Losing your will already? That’s not like you, young master.”

Familiar voices rang out from either side.

“Lady Siena. Ghir.”

The two, each having fought their own battles, now joined forces to tear Gelberich’s body apart.

“Ha ha ha. Impressive skills.”

He didn’t even bother to defend.

Gelberich’s neck was half-severed, and an entire arm was blown clean off.

But then—

BOOOOOOM!

With a stomp, spears of blood erupted from the ground and flung the two of them away.

“Ugh!”

“What the hell is this guy?!”

They both looked at me with stunned expressions.

“Young Master, what is that thing?”

“Is he even human?”

“What a coincidence. I was wondering the same thing just now.”

I shook my head and said to Ghir,

“Supposedly, he’s one of the Enforcers of the Black Society. A successor of some ancient demonic art, or whatever.”

“Successor? Bullshit. He’s just some dumbass who got devoured by his own magic.”

I grinned.

“Exactly.”

Siena stood beside me, ready for the next round.

“Let’s keep going. We’re not the kind of people to fall to the likes of him.”

I smirked.

“Of course, my lady.”

In that moment, I couldn’t help but recall something Leszek Grunewald once said:

[It won’t be an easy fight. But if you can’t overcome even a trial like this, how can you be the Guardian of Grunewald?]

He was absolutely right.

‘Let’s go.’

It’s time to temper the sword of Allenvert Grunewald through the trial known as Gelberich.

‘Now it’s three against one.’

And not once did I feel it was dishonorable.

Why the hell would I fight one-on-one and get myself killed just to be ‘honorable’?

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

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