I Became a Crazy Swordsmanship Instructor in the Game

Chapter 53:

“You… the kid of the Oswald Family.”

Count Eloy murmured, stepping forward to observe Phillip. Facing his gaze, marked by a streak of brutality and violence, Phillip couldn’t help but feel an unusual chuckle escape him.

“After barely being reborn as a demon mere minutes ago, you have the audacity to call me a kid?”

Phillip retorted, assessing the situation at hand. While some astute onlookers had already made a swift exit, a handful lacking in perception or driven by insatiable curiosity remained discreetly concealed, their eyes fixed on this unfolding scene.

‘If that remains the case, the princess won’t be able to step forward.’

Genesis Society, the most secretive group among man-made organizations. The princess, one of the members, would not step forward unless the situation worsened significantly.

To be blunt, preserving her incognito status mattered more than the lives of the Sixth Prince or the youngest princess.

Phillip discreetly signaled Prince Alessios, employing a signal pattern ingrained during combat scenarios at the academy.

The encoded message: Maintain control, evacuate people to safety.

A signal easily decipherable by an academy alumnus. However, upon gauging Alessios’ reaction, Phillip knit his brows.

‘This damn uneducated fool…?’

An expression mirroring “What on earth?” played out on Alessios’ countenance. Phillip couldn’t help but mull over the urgency for better education.

Naturally, Felicia had intercepted Phillip’s signal. Rather than impulsively acting, she seemed attuned to Phillip’s motives, abstaining from any premature maneuvers.

‘There seems to be no alternative.’

Conveying one’s intentions to the adversary was typically a forbidden act bordering on folly. Yet, under the current circumstances, it seemed inevitable.

Drawing from his innermost resolve, Phillip’s voice reverberated emphatically.

“Your Highness! Lead the people in retreat!”

Only then did Prince Alessios appear to comprehend Phillip’s underlying message. Swiftly securing his younger sister Camilla, he disengaged from the battle’s fray.

“Everyone, disperse! Temporarily withdraw, using this time to consolidate our forces!”

Prompted by the prince’s directive, the nobles hesitated momentarily. Yet, as they witnessed one among them initiate the retreat, they gradually followed suit. While they too were skilled swordsmen, few possessed the mettle to boldly engage in combat against the demon.

The one who grew anxious was none other than the Count. He had no intention of idly witnessing the disappearance of the nobles who could serve as hostages.

“Where do you think you’re escaping!”

The Count left Philip and Felicia behind, soaring towards Prince Alessios with the intent to target him. In that fleeting moment, Philip swung his sword, aiming to strike the Count’s wings.

Those wings were the Count’s lifeline. If circumstances took a turn for the worse, he would be forced to flee northwards, compelling him to defend his wings.

“Gah….”

Parrying Philip’s blade with his bare arm, the Count winced, narrowing his eyes and releasing a pained groan.

A sudden grin played across Philip’s face.

‘Seems a tad uncoordinated, doesn’t he?’

Though not quite at the level of a titled demon, Count Eloy’s current form possessed a respectable degree of strength.

Slightly weaker than the vampire he had previously encountered.

It could be suggested that he needed to attain the stature of an Aura Master to secure victory.

However, the Count appeared unable to make an astute judgment. And the reason for this quickly became evident.

‘He has no inkling of how much he’s bolstered his strength, let alone the potential that newfound power holds.’

In a sense, it was only natural. Even if Philip had been reborn as a demon, he would likely have confronted the same circumstances.

‘If only the princess were to step forward; victory would be assured.’

With that thought in mind, Philip shifted his gaze towards Altaire Eloy. She gazed fixedly at the Count Eloy with weary eyes, her reluctance to participate abundantly clear.

Count Eloy seemed to grasp the prevailing atmosphere, and bared his fangs as he sneered.

“… Do you anticipate that wench coming to your aid? How utterly disappointing. That foolish girl entered into a contract two decades ago. She is utterly powerless to lay a finger on me as long as I draw breath.”

“What utter nonsense is this?”

Uttering his skepticism, Philip tightened his grip on the sword. If the Count’s assertion held any truth, he needed to brace himself for his own demise and the potential demise of Felicia as well.

Instead of offering an explanation, Altaire Eloy nibbled on her lip. The contract she had forged in her youth, to stymie the sinister family and schemes of Count Eloy, now shackled her in its embrace.

“Though that wench might lay claim to being an Aura Master, she wouldn’t survive her heart bursting.”

Philip mulled over the Count’s words. The talk of heart explosions hinted at a contract facilitated by the “Chain of Oaths.”

The Chain of Oaths was an artifact invoked when entering into a life-or-death covenant between parties.

An artifact that would drive a lethal needle through the heart of any who dared breach the pact.

Not a creation of human hands, but a relic unearthed by the Gray Tower from ancient times, the Chain of Oaths left even an Aura Master powerless to escape its hold.

In a split second of realization, Philip apprehended a singular truth.

“Hold on a moment. Doesn’t that mean I’ve emerged victorious?”

Philip swiftly parted his lips.

If the princess had some understanding of the Chain of Oaths, his words would have carried meaning to her.

“Did you use the Chain of Oaths? But, you already perished once to be reborn as a demon… Agh!”

“Your jabber won’t avail you!”

Before Philip could conclude, a life-threatening assault zeroed in on him by Count Eloy. Instead of the typical Aura, an inky demonic energy unique to demons surged within the attack. Count Eloy directed his razor-sharp claws toward Philip’s heart.

Philip deftly guided Aura, adhering to the principles of the Moonlight Sword. A pallid luminance replaced the customary azure aura as it streamed from his weapon.

Upon the collision of the Count’s claws and Philip’s blade, a thought crossed Philip’s mind: ‘My compatibility is advantageous, yet the disparagement in output is staggeringly vast.’

If Philip’s Moonlight Sword was akin to water, then the Count’s black magic embodied fire. Were the levels comparable, Philip would undoubtedly secure victory, yet the yawning chasm in output proved several-fold.

It resembled attempting to quell a house fire with mere buckets of water. Philip tactically withdrew, his countenance contorted.

At least, the reason he was able to face him was because he had already died hundreds of times from Neria’s first owner.

In contrast to Neria’s first owner onslaught, the Count’s offensive paled in finesse and maturity.

“Philip!”

Felicia’s blade whirled forth, bolstering Philip.

A diagonal cut; its aim being the Cout’s shoulder.

Alas, the Count’s corporeal form effortlessly withstood Felicia’s strike.

Disregarding Felicia, the Count lunged at Philip. In that fleeting moment, Felicia’s blade initiated a rapid rotation. As the sensation of skin rending registered, the Count hastened an attack on Felicia.

“Haah!”

Felicia barely fended off his claws, promptly retreating and recomposing her stance. Philip seized the brief opening she provided.

His coup de grâce, the ‘Spiral Sword,’ compressed to its zenith, extended and commenced its rapid gyration, and even the air fractured at its celerity.

The Count did not dare to belittle even that. He had released most of his powers. Soon, his gray body was engulfed in demonic energy. When he realized that he had become so powerful that he felt omnipotent, an involuntary smile adorned his lips.

‘I’ll have to tear this kid’s body apart and send his heart to his father.’

Philip exerted all his strength to wield his sword.

As the clash between the dark magic and the Moonlight Sword unfolded, a collision resounded like the explosion of gunpowder.

“Argh!”

The shockwave overwhelmed Philip, sending him hurtling through the air. Felicia’s view was obscured by the swirling dust, and she couldn’t assess Philip’s condition, so her gaze shifted towards the Count.

Drawing her blade, she swung it skillfully, attempting to disperse the dirt-laden air.

“… This wretched is stirring up chaos.”

Surprisingly, within the chaotic clash, Count remained relatively unscathed. Yet, he wasn’t entirely untouched.

His skin bore lacerations, and the blood-soaked membrane that veiled his wings had been torn, seemingly inhibiting any graceful flight. Nevertheless, exuding confidence in his impending triumph, he chuckled at Altaire.

“Observe from your vantage point, Altaire. I recall this young woman. The one who used to secretly slip away from her family to meet you—she is a beauty, is she not? I shall flay her flesh until her cries resonate like a wailing infant. Will it cease at that? I’ll pluck out her orbs, sever her tongue, wrench her limbs asunder, and unveil a writhing spectacle akin to a caterpillar.”

Felicia found herself ensnared by immobility. Her capacity to assail the Count hinged solely on Philip’s presence. Philip, too, could assail the Count only because of her. Such was the inextricable dynamic.

“… Adrian Eloy. For the past two decades, I’ve pondered, and you undoubtedly consort more harmoniously with demons than mortals. Such loathsome conceptions would scarcely originate from a human mind.”

Witnessing the tableau, Count reached out into the void, and in response, a lone steel blade sailed through the air, alighting within her grasp.

“Are you going to attack me? really? Your heart would burst before your sword even touched my body. Isn’t the Chain of Oath something you are familiar with?”

“Now is the occasion to test that assertion. You’ve already traversed the threshold of death. Whether the covenant perseveres in its entirety remains as enigmatic to you as it is to me, does it not?”

Altaire slowly replied, and advanced leisurely towards the Count.

“The Aura Master will risk his life just because of this brat? That’s funny.”

Undeterred by the Count’s bravado, Altaire remained unperturbed. The Count harbored intentions of seizing the exact moment her blade’s power surged forth. While he acknowledged his inability to overcome the mighty aura master, he could at the very least shield against her.

“Adrian, Adrian. A pitiable noble like yourself. Do you truly comprehend the deeds of the boy named Philip? My existence pales significantly before the talent of that child.”

A sigh escaped Altaire’s lips.

Although the certainty of the pact-bound contract’s endurance eluded her, she possessed no inclination to waver, having already made her resolute choice.

Clad in ceremonial attire, she deftly wielded her iron sword.

However, no one within the room managed to discern, let alone react to, the swift motion of her blade.

The Count, for all his grandeur, found himself incapable of any response; one of his arms vanished into oblivion, consumed by the unbridled might unleashed by Altaire.

“… Exhale.”

Altaire opened her tightly sealed eyes, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat.

Despite her affiliation with the illustrious Genesis Society and her status as the Aura Master, she couldn’t elude the clutches of the fear of death. Clenching her left breast firmly, she briefly sensed the rhythm of her heartbeat before a brilliant smile graced her features.

“It appears my demise is not imminent. Adrian, then. In that case, you must die!”

———-

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