The Red Scorpion was not a difficult opponent. It was a higher-tier monster than the monkey demon he had encountered before, but while its magic was strong, it was immature in many ways.
It was skilled at hiding, but its combat abilities were not significant.
'It inherited the core to become stronger, but it didn't build its own power. Moreover, it's under the control of a high priest.'
Such a creature couldn't be stronger than a monster fighting of its own will.
The desert terrain helped it, though. It used the sand and dust to obscure visibility and took advantage of the confusion to attack.
The monster's movements, fueled by magic, were swift, and its front limbs were as hard and forceful as rocks.
It dug giant holes in the sand at the places where Helmut had been standing, each time leaving a large crater that soon disappeared.
'It's forceful because of its size.'
But Helmut was confident he wouldn't be easily overcome. He suddenly raised an eyebrow.
A vibration came from inside the rock mountain. He felt two Vis energies colliding.
Apparently, a battle had started inside as well. It was fortunate that Luke Yeager hadn't been killed by a single strike.
However, there was no guarantee that he could hold out for long, so Helmut needed to make his way in quickly.
Helmut glanced in one direction.
'The problem is that high priest.'
He hadn't attacked outright, but whenever Helmut aimed for the scorpion's head, the high priest threw sacred magic his way, pressuring him.
Not knowing the full extent of the sacred magic's power, Helmut had mostly avoided direct confrontation.
The essence of darkness within him was sensitive to the sanctity that had once nearly annihilated him. It was easy to dodge the sacred magic by sensing its range. Even the slightest encroachment caused his heart to ache.
It was the first time he felt the essence of darkness so dominantly trying to preserve him.
'It's irritating.'
He wanted to be directly hit and purified of the essence of darkness, but that wasn't an option.
'The archmage Antiole said the source of my life is the essence of darkness.'
If the essence of darkness disappeared, Helmut would die. That's why he couldn't recklessly confront the sacred magic.
"How interesting. You react to my sacred magic just like a monster."
High Priest Dolos chuckled.
His sacred magic wasn't of the type that exerted physical force. An ordinary person, even if directly hit, would only be bewildered without any real effect. They wouldn't desperately dodge like this.
"The magic emanating from you... I wondered what it was, but you have the essence of darkness. I've heard that sometimes those the temple misses manage to survive."
He observed Helmut with interest.
"Meeting you here must be the will of Lumen. My coming to this desert was meant to deal with you."
For a high priest to face someone with the essence of darkness in such a place! How could this be mere coincidence?
"I shall personally send you to Lumen's side today!"
High Priest Dolos declared arrogantly. To those with magic, the high priests of Lumen wield absolute power.
Even strong swordsmen and formidable monsters, even the Red Scorpion itself, could not resist his holy magic. It was a matter of natural affinity.
'Too talkative.'
Helmut landed softly on the ground. The Red Scorpion, frustrated by its continuous failed attacks, trembled with rage.
The sand whipped furiously with its tail movements. Oppressed by the orb in its forehead, the creature was understandably angry.
It strictly blocked Helmut's path to Dolos, prioritizing the high priest's protection over attacking Helmut. That must have been the high priest's order.
It resembled the dynamic between swordsmen and magicians, but there was a clear difference.
'Combining a monster and a human is difficult. Moreover, these two don't coordinate well.'
Affected by Dolos's purification power, the Red Scorpion's attack pattern was simple.
Helmut easily dodged the somewhat predictable sacred magic.
If the scorpion had used its head, it could have blocked Helmut's obvious escape route and attacked him.
But the creature wouldn't risk being affected by the sacred magic just to launch an attack.
Because of this, Dolos and the Red Scorpion's attacks were disjointed and full of openings.
To fall for such tactics would be beneath him.
'That high priest, he doesn't know how to use the Red Scorpion.'
A high priest was nothing special. Although his sanctity seemed quite powerful, everything else was subpar.
Helmut had thought a high priest would be on par with an archmage, but Dolos wasn't an opponent like Antiole, who gave off an untouchable aura.
If anything, he was a non-combatant, a laboratory magician. Helmut didn't know much about Dolos, but he accurately assessed the situation.
'It's time to conclude this.'
He had been gauging the high priest, as it was his first time fighting one. But he couldn't delay any longer. One concern was.
'Will the essence of darkness react if I kill the high priest?'
When he had killed humans before, it had made him nauseous. Surely, the death of a high priest wouldn't be the same as that of an ordinary person. That was the issue.
'But I can't let the high priest go.'
He had seen Helmut. And Helmut, having the essence of darkness, knew the priest was an enemy of Darien.
He must be eliminated here.
'I have a good idea anyway.'
He would have to endure some resistance and damage, but this method should suffice.
Helmut's eyes glinted coldly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Luke Yeager groaned, blood streaming from his shoulder.
After holding out for so long, he allowed one attack through. The price was severe.
The bleeding was heavy. But it was an unavoidable strike. Had he not sacrificed his shoulder, his neck would have been severed.
'This arm can no longer move.'
He would have to face the Palma Commander with one arm.
In a situation where death was not surprising, Lutus Cicero halted his assault.
His formidable presence remained, but his gaze seemed contemplative. Holding his sword loosely, he mused aloud.
"Amazing. It's like seeing his swordsmanship again. In his youth, he must have looked just like you."
While speaking with apparent respect for his opponent, a chilling emotion flickered in Lutus Cicero's eyes.
Luke Yeager recognized the nature of that emotion. Clenching his teeth, he asked.
"Why do you hate the Sword Saint?"
Lutus Cicero hadn't spared Luke Yeager's life out of camaraderie or sympathy for his former subordinate.
He simply wanted to savor the act of killing Luke Yeager, much like a cat playing with a mouse. Underlying this desire was a deep-seated hatred.
'Why?'
Luke Yeager found himself questioning anew. Why would someone as esteemed as the Palma Commander harbor such deep hatred for the Sword Saint, to the extent of betraying him and now targeting his descendant?
The hatred Lutus Cicero revealed was like a flame burning in hell, deep and incomprehensible.
Previously, Lutus Cicero was publicly known as the Sword Saint's closest confidant.
Lutus Cicero smirked.
The Sword Saint, Darien Difert, couldn't have guessed why he was betrayed at that moment.
That was plausible. Darien was so arrogant that he disregarded others.
Lutus Cicero's memories slid back to the past.
The cold, stern face of the Sword Saint emerged vividly from his memories. It was the face he had revered and served for many years, hiding his burning hatred.
Lutus Cicero had faithfully served the Sword Saint, enduring his disdain.
And his patience bore fruit with Darien Difert's demise!
His hatred was justified. The Sword Saint deserved such an end for trampling on Lutus Cicero's pride, dignity, and everything as a swordsman in the most cruel way possible.
Lutus Cicero had admired and followed the Sword Saint, battling desert monsters alongside him.
Who else would have been better suited to inherit the Sword Saint's techniques?
However, Darien Difert had a son, and Lutus Cicero had to suppress his desires.
The opportunity came soon enough. Darien's entitled son, despite being the rightful heir, failed to endure due to his weakness.
When news of his disappearance reached Lutus Cicero, he rejoiced.
Finally, the chance had come! The heir to the Sword Saint. There was no more coveted title.
The Sword Saint was aging. He needed someone to pass his swordsmanship onto. If Lutus Cicero could assert himself now, while Darien was vulnerable...
But Lutus Cicero's expectations soon turned to dust.
'Please grant me the honor of becoming your successor.'
'Impossible.'
'Why not?'
'You lack the talent to be my disciple. Since you're not my child, unfortunately, I cannot pass my techniques to you.'
It was a shock. Lutus Cicero came from a prestigious sword family in Basor.
He had exceptional talent, though not on par with the Sword Saint's. He even held the position of vice-commander in the Palma Knights due to his skills.
Being dismissed face-to-face about his limitations was unbearable. He withdrew in humiliation.
But it didn't end there. He pleaded with Darien Difert again.
'I will work hard! If my talent is lacking, I will make up for it with effort. Please.'
'No need to trouble yourself. You're quite skilled, but below my standards.'
'Even if I seem insufficient in your eyes, Sir, please reconsider...'
'I said no! You lack the talent and qualities I require. Do I need to repeat myself?'
Darien Difert's shouting rejection was a cold turn of his back.
Kneeling, Lutus Cicero watched his back and felt despair. Darien Difert was impenetrable.
He would not pass his swordsmanship to him. That decision could not be changed by Cicero's effort.
The desperation made the despair more intense. Lutus Cicero swallowed the humiliation and acted as if nothing had happened, faithfully playing the role of the Sword Saint's right hand.
Darien Difert, in his indifference, could not have imagined the burning revenge in his subordinate's heart.
Nor could Lutus Cicero himself, until he was approached with a proposition by the First Prince.
'That someone with your talent remains a second forever is a pity. The Palma Knights need new blood, and it would be a great honor for the Cicero family.'
The gleam of desire in his eyes was too obvious. The First Prince was not fit to be king.
Lutus Cicero should have rejected the offer immediately. But accepting it, he realized the extent of his harbored resentment.
The accumulated despair and crushed pride had morphed into deep-seated hatred.
It had been a dormant emotion, unlikely to surface if not for this opportunity. The moment he accepted the First Prince's proposal, he was fully aware of the magnitude of his grudge.
'I'll drag you down to hell.'
To the same hell he had been through!
Lutus Cicero smirked bitterly.