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Published at 18th of October 2022 06:12:33 AM


Chapter 172: The Torch of The Immortal

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Emilio found his consciousness flickering, as if encumbered by a weight too much for his mind to handle; the pain was too much to focus on as he held his own throat, gasping for air as his lungs seemed to be shutting down.

Black spots appeared as blots on his pale complexion with the hellish plague destroying his body at a cellular level.

…Is it happening like this? My second life, ending before I even got to see the world. There’s still so much I want to do…Why is life unfair like this? Even in my reincarnation…I still fall behind the rest.

As these thoughts flooded his mind with his eyelids growing heavy, he could only watch through brief glimpses through his flickering eyelids as the Knightmare responsible for his condition approached with its sword in hand.

Sorry, it seems I left for nothing…He thought.

Just as the blade hovered over his head, being dragged down–CLANG.

Suddenly standing between him and the Knightmare was a muscular, tall figure with prominent, black hair with silver streaks running through his locks.

Kintoki…? He thought.

Though as he tried to speak through his tightened throat, all that came out was: “…Khh…?”

Still, Kintoki seemed to understand well as he repelled the Knightmare, drenched in sweat of his own as he was clearly straining himself, “I’m here, my friend!”

There was a genuineness to the way Kintoki held himself and approached others; the wound the man bore had not fully healed, though it was ‘good’ enough as deemed by Kintoki as only a slight trail of blood leaked from his chest.

Sumera didn’t seem to give him the go-ahead for his reckless jump into action, but she accepted it with a sigh, though was unable to stand to her feet as she tried.

“Ghh…” Sumera exhaled, holding her head.

Melisande helped her stand, “Are you okay? You used a lot of mana helping him, didn’t you? You should stay put…”

“You’re one to talk…I took a heaping amount of mana from you, and you hardly seem phased. Anyway, aren’t you worried? That boy…he’s in grave danger right now,” Sumera asked.

“I am, but…all we can do now is trust in them,” Melisande answered.

Still combating the three Knightmares alone, though it was just down to two now, Roan evaded tendrils of darkness that sprouted from a four-horned sentinel, zipping by in his lighting form before countering with a powerful blow to its chest, breaking through and sending a discharge powerful enough to blow it to smithereens.

“Two down,” Roan said, turning to face the last.



Kintoki was desperate, not for his own safety but for the boy he already saw as a true friend and comrade despite their minuscule tenure knowing one another. It may be a simple mindset, but that was simply the way the man behaved; carried by the wind in whichever direction life took him, and loyal to a fault to those he respected.

He clashed swords against the Knigthmare, summoning his innate strength as he swiftly spun his wide blade around, repelling the fiendish entity.

“Just hold on, my friend! I’m not letting you die here!” Kintoki promised.

Though such words seemed hardly of substance to Emilio as he was keeled over on the ground, struggling just for the faintest scraps of oxygen as his lungs ached and his throat tightened.

He managed to roll over into his back, looking up towards the void above as he felt his consciousness being held on by only a withering string.

I get what you meant now, Joel. If I’m going to die…I’d at least like to go out seeing the stars again, he thought.

In the state he was in, he didn’t register the fact that Sumera and Melisande had come to his side, but by now, his own hearing was absent as he could see Melisande calling out to him with tears strolling down her cheeks.



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Do I look that bad…? Sorry, didn’t mean to make you cry, he thought.

It was painful just to remain conscious; he wanted to just close his eyes and sleep, especially with how exhausted he felt. Yet, when he saw the silver-haired girl crying for him, he felt embers slowly reigniting in him as if the last sparks of life, of his will, burned once more with that simple catalyst.

He felt her tears drop onto his cheek, though he was paralyzed by the sickness at this point, only able to lay there and breathe inadequate air, he tried his best.

Steady your breathing. Don’t give in. Be…as stalwart as a mountain, he told himself.

Still, sheer willpower wasn’t enough even as Sumera pushed herself past her limits to try and heal his mystical illness, he felt his consciousness fading against his will.



“…Ngh…It’s not working!” Sumera said, gritting her teeth as she focused her recovery magecraft.

Melisande extended her hand to the adventurer, “Use my mana, too!”

“But, you’ll–”

“Please!” Melisande insisted.

There was no choice for Sumera but to accept as she took Melisande’s hand, using both of their mana to further the healing spell, though even with that combination, it was a fruitless endeavor.

Kintoki pushed himself to his limits, combating the Knightmare with his worn body, though stalling was good enough for him.

I’ll hold you here until he’s back up!…That’s all I need to do! I can do that much, can’t I?! Kintoki thought.



Just as Sumera caught her breath, about to go in for another attempt at healing, she was stopped–

“That won’t work.”

Walking in, covered in blood both his and not, the dark-skinned, platinum-eyed man left a pair of Knightmare bodies behind, limping over before his body mended itself with black threads.

Sumera witnessed the act that defied the natural limitations of mortals, “…I have to try.”

“It’s pointless,” Vandreas assured her.

Melisande seemed on the brink of breaking down when hearing those cold words, and Kintoki only seemed to push himself harder, angered by hearing such pessimism as he took it out on the Knightmare.

Still, Sumera retorted, “Do you have a better idea, then–!?”

“I do,” Vandread calmly answered.

It was a surprising response as Sumera went quiet, watching the immortal man kneel at Emilio’s side. There was a melancholic look present in the jaded man’s eyes as he looked down at the boy, holding a faint smile as he placed his hand beneath Emilio’s head.

The boy’s breaths were as faint as a whisper though he was trying his hardest to bring in deep, fulfilling breaths that his body simply refused to take in.

“What’re you planning to do?…” Sumera asked, seeming to have guesses of her own already.

Vandread replied without looking at her, “Something that I’ll need you to assure this brat was a choice I was willing to make.”

From that much, the woman, experienced in the ways of the world, could deduce what the man was planning to do. Melisande didn’t seem as privy to this unspoken plan as she watched, hoping just for whatever the man was planning to do to save the boy.



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Vandread inhaled slowly before breathing out, holding a single blade in his hand, “This isn’t going to be pretty. Cover the little miss’ eyes for me, would you?”

“Of course,” Sumera said, turning to Melisande as she held her close, hiding her face in her chest.

“Sumera…?” Melisande said.

“Emilio is going to be okay,” Sumera assured her.

Though she didn’t know the details, Melisande was able to pick up that whatever the process was for the recovery of Emilio wasn’t something free of cost, but she nodded slowly, closing her eyes.

Vandread sat there for a moment on his knees amidst the darkness, not flinching as a scarlet strand of electricity appeared behind him before Roan conjured fully.

“It’s come to that?” Roan asked without any semblance of jest in his tone.

“It has,” Vandread replied, looking down at Emilio, who already fell unconscious.

Roan had a look of lament in his eyes, “I’ll keep ’em busy then.”

The Knigthmares were rebuilding, altering and seeming to adapt their forms as they rebuilt themselves, though seeming to be worn down somewhat.

“Thanks,” Vandread said.

Just like that, Roan was gone, taking on the five returned Knightmares alone, leaving Vandread open to do what he planned.

The scar-covered man raised his blade, flipping it around as he aimed the tip towards his own chest.

Never thought I’d be doing the same thing you did, Victor, Vandread thought, isn’t it funny how things work? I wonder what Julius would say right now. Would he be mad at himself? Probably. He’s always been irrational. I was always the rational one…that’s why I know what I have to do.

Without any hesitation and restraint for his own wellbeing, he plunged the blade into his own chest, spitting out blood before pulling it downward as his flesh squelched.

Dropping his soaked blade, he didn’t waste any time plunging his own hand into his chest, searching for his heart as he knew well that time was limited.

“…Ngh…”

With a tug that caused Sumera to close her eyes just from imagining the painful process, Vandread plucked his own, still beating heart from his chest.

As he held it in his hand, he could already feel his strength leaving his body, prompting him to act with the usual pragmatic nature of his as he crushed it without wasting a moment.

“Rrgh…!”

For the first time in over a decade, Vandread felt true pain surge throughout his body as he willingly parted with the Undying Blood, feeling it unravel itself through his body.

As he let it pour onto Emilio’s lips, letting the black blood that carried the undying essence slip into his system, he then fell down with his body shutting down quicker than expected.

“…I guess the deed is done, then…” Vandread mumbled, looking towards the black sky.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at the boy who laid beside him, hearing his breathing steadily climb to a stable rhythm as the undying blood activated immediately, mending his body and combating the plague.

Seeing the boy, a part of him regretted not taking the time to share nicer moments with him, though Vandread found himself amused by the fact even somebody as cold as him experienced such tender thoughts.

I wonder why I’m just now remembering what you told me that day, Victor, Vandread thought, You told me…there’d come a time when I’d realize this ‘curse’ is a blessing. I think I get it now…Is this what you meant?

As he came to realize this with his body relinquishing the last embers of its strength, he weekly extended his hand, brushing his fingers through the boy’s blonde-and-black hair just once as a genuine smile was etched across his lips.

It was with that expression of satisfaction in his final act that the once immortal man closed his eyes for the last time.

“Emilio, you’ve got it from here.”




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