The 9th Class Swordmaster: Blade of Truth-Chapter 397: The Coronation

For the first time in a long while, the imperial capital was bustling with life.

The era of upheaval had finally ended, and the square was filled with lively anticipation. In just a few months following the end of the war, the capital had regained its former grandeur, and the streets were now abuzz with excitement for the upcoming celebration.

“Move the pillars this way!”

“Raise the flags from the left! Make sure the rows and columns are aligned!”

“Yes, sir!”

The fountain that once stood in the square had been removed, replaced by a massive altar. As workers added the finishing touches, white flags bearing unique emblems fluttered in the wind.

Those banners represented the Ranion Alliance, the northern tribes, and even the warriors of the south and the former Lurein Principality.

“A month has passed, yet no sight of our lord...” Dushala sighed, glancing at the completed altar.

“So what, do we just cancel the ceremony?”

Miliana shared the same worry. The large coffin set beside the altar added an eerie atmosphere to the scene.

“Our lord set the date himself. The entire Ranion Alliance has gathered, and the principality’s forces have already crossed the border. Their mana-powered chariots should arrive in half a day.”

It was Anthem Howard who tried assuaging their worries.

“Magic-powered chariots? Oh, you mean those new carriages Wingel created? The ones that move without a driver?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“They say they’re faster than a Cargon. I’d like to see them. But isn’t it time for the principality to get a new name? How much longer do we keep calling it that?”

“Our lord will likely rename it upon his return. I’ll bring it to his attention.”

Anthem nodded to Miliana’s suggestion, while she looked up at the sky, her expression uneasy as the coronation drew nearer.

“What on earth is he doing...?”

As she sighed, she noticed a procession of people approaching the capital from afar.

“It’s a shame the main guest still hasn’t shown himself...”

Everyone here had gathered for one reason alone—to witness the declaration of the continent’s new ruler.

Ssssssssssshh...

Miliana’s eyes narrowed as the midday sun was briefly obscured.

Voosh!

The immense wings blotting out the sun plummeted from the sky at tremendous speed.

“...?!”

“...!!”

Confusion quickly gave way to astonishment. All eyes turned to the man who had fallen from the sky. Despite the staggering height from which he had descended, he walked forward with utmost calm, as though he had simply strolled down an alley.

To the crowd’s astonishment, the man folded the two pairs of wings on his back and stretched out the four arms extending from his sides. His face was strikingly handsome, but the wings and extra limbs made it clear he wasn’t a being of this world.

“It can’t be...”

“So the legends were right...?”

“I can’t believe they’re real...”

It seemed as though the one actually meant for the coronation had arrived.

“...Nephilim?”

Someone murmured the name of the ancient, forgotten divine race. The winged man simply looked down at everyone from the altar, his face expressionless.

“Hey.”

Miliana emerged from behind him, her blade hovering over his neck.

“Get down, now.”

The man slowly turned his head.

“...!!”

As his gaze fell upon her, Miliana froze up. What she felt wasn’t simply fear. Though unwilling to admit it, she couldn’t deny it—the winged entity was entirely beyond her, radiating a divine aura that left her paralyzed in awe.

“Fascinating... A human that does not kneel in my presence.”

“...!!”

The man extended his hand, and immediately, everyone in the square buckled, collapsing to their knees as if an overwhelming force had sapped their strength. They couldn’t lift their heads, bowing toward him as though compelled to worship.

“Ghh...!”

Miliana was the only one still standing, though her hands shook so badly she couldn’t hold her sword steady.

“Hmm.”

The man looked at her, intrigued.

“I see. Elven blood flows within you. That explains it. The elves are the only earthly race to share in the grace of the gods.” The man smiled faintly at her. “Still, such grace doesn’t justify arrogance before us.”

Crack...! Boom!

A flick of his finger—that was all it took to send Miliana hurtling through the air. She crashed into a building akin to a bullet.

“Are you the ruler of humans? If so, I shall forgive this one act of arrogance. A queen must retain some dignity, after all.”

“Shut it... The king I serve isn’t as weak as me.” Miliana slowly rose from rubble, wiping the blood from her mouth. “And a poser like you can’t compare to him.”

“...”

The man snorted, an incredulous smile on his face. “So you’re a mere human, yet you display such arrogance.”

“Tell me something. The Nephilim have kept their distance from the human world all this time, so why are you here?”

No sooner had Miliana spoken than the nearby troops sprang into action—archers atop the walls aimed their arrows at the Nephilim, while the tribe warriors and the other Free Army soldiers in the square raised their blades against him.

“Make no mistake. That question also serves as a warning.”

“Already back on your feet, huh? Most intriguing. I see that you were protecting yourself with Clear Distilled Water while wielding a filthy weapon forged from the remnants of a rift... How fitting for a human.”

Despite being surrounded by thousands of soldiers, the winged man betrayed no signs of uneasiness. His composure was almost eerie.

“Let me ask. Why is this continent considered human land?”

“What?”

“This land belongs to the gods.”

His low voice rang through the square like a trumpet. His wings moved slightly, and two swords and two shields appeared in his four hands.

Voosh!

Miliana’s figure blurred as she surged forward. At the same time, the warriors swung their blades at the winged man.

Serica Lauren and Ganeth thrust their spears, Mikhail and Nain Darhon cast their magic, and Hwarin and Suan hurled their fists—a deadly web closing in on the Nephilim.

Crash...!

The strikes converged with a deafening roar. But in that instant, Miliana shouted out a warning.

“Get back!”

BOOOOOM...!!

The ones confronting the winged man were all Sword Masters and Great Sorcerers, making it all the more shocking when they were swatted away like mere flies.

“Hmm...”

The Nephilim looked down at those who had fallen.

“What kind of power...?”

“Is he really stronger than a dragon?”

“Are all Nephilim like this?”

One blow was all it took to strike terror into everyone. What should have been a joyful occasion had quickly devolved into chaos, with people horrified by the sudden assault on their capital.

“Humans, I am the messenger of the gods, here to deliver a divine message. You are to heed the prophecy of the Oracle.”

The winged man slowly raised his hand.

“I am called Virtus Bytram, the Fallen Angel... Soon, the monsters born from the rift of Tarak will descend upon this land, the land created by the gods.”

Swoosh...!

The moment he finished speaking, a golden veil, shimmering like an aurora, unfolded in the sky. Something resembling a tower emerged from the veil, and dozens of monstrous silhouettes spilled forth. The mirage was so vivid that some people even fainted on the spot.

“Aaaahhh...!!”

“S-Someone save us...!”

Everyone erupted into screams. Those who hadn’t fainted either ran away in terror or collapsed to the ground and started crying.

“What on earth...?”

Anthem Howard and Dushala seemed paralyzed by the sudden chaos, uncertain of what to do.

“From this moment, you will heed the Oracle’s prophecy and defend humanity from Tarak.”

At that moment, another voice from above Virtus.

“Defend humanity? That’s something we’ll do of our own accord. You don’t get to dictate that.”

“Groooar...!”

The crimson wyvern soared above, circling the Fallen Angel as all eyes turned toward it.

“...L-Lord Karyl!”

Everyone gasped as their eyes fell on Karyl, perched on the wyvern’s head.

“Seems like I got here right on time. But tell me, why is there trouble at my coronation?”

“Where have you been all this time?!” Miliana shouted in frustration, though her lips were already curling into a smile.

“Before that...”

Shing—

Karyl reached into the grimoire to draw his sword. The blade made a sharp, metallic sound, as though it were being drawn from a regular sheath.

“Who said this land belongs to the gods?”

He pulled on the reins of the wyvern, halting the creature just before Virtus’s face.

“This is my land.”

Karyl’s lips curled into a smirk. He dismounted from the wyvern and slowly walked toward the altar.

“...What?”

The arrogance had vanished from Virtus’s expression. He looked intently at Karyl, his gaze shifting to the blade he had drawn from the grimoire.

Miliana didn’t miss that.

“...The blade changed?”

It was Virtus’s wariness that made her realize the blade looked different from before.

“Don’t be shocked, mortal woman.”

“Huh? Who are you talking to like that, you arrogant corpse puppet? Want me to smash you back into your grave?” Miliana snarled.

“...”

Zarka Hochi gave a wry smile. “That temper of yours hasn’t changed. But I suppose you’d need that to draw your sword on a Nephilim.”

“I haven’t even shown my true power yet,” she corrected, channeling mana into her arms. Scales as hard as a dragon’s sprouted on her wrists, spreading up her arms and covering her shoulders and chest.

“It’s expanded. Impressive indeed.”

Before, the scales would grow only on her arms, but now they covered her entire upper body—a testament to her fast growth.

“And who are you?” Miliana glanced at Darryl Harian with narrowed eyes.

“Me? Just a spectator. Pay me no mind,” he replied with a warm smile.

Miliana shot him a wary look, but Zarka Hochi stepped between them.

“Impressive, but that’s still nothing compared to what he gained in the north.”

“...What?”

Swish—

The sickening sound of blade tearing through flesh filled the air, and a massive chunk fell before Miliana.

“...!!”

She glanced up to see massive feathers, stained crimson, drifting in the air. Then, she looked ahead, spotting Virtus slumped on the ground, with one of his wings gone.

“Anthem, I told you I needed a large coffin, but this seems awfully small. Or maybe this Nephilim’s wings are just too large. We can’t fold them to make them fit, so I’ll just cut them off.”

Virtus’s face twisted in agony.

“Time to cut off the other one.”

Hummm...

Karyl pressed his foot down on Virtus's shoulder, then gripped another wing with both hands.

“Grr...! Ugh?! Stop... STOP...!!”

Ignoring Virtus’s cries, Karyl twisted and snapped the wing. It broke with a gruesome crack, like a tree splintering apart.

“GHAAAAAA...!!!”

The Nephilim’s agonized scream echoed across the entire capital.

Shing—

Karyl pulled his blade from the ground.

Blood dripped from the Fallen Angel onto the altar floor, seeping into the blade of Polsetia, which glowed with a distinctive emerald hue.

“What on earth...”

Miliana stared at Karyl in disbelief. She didn’t know what he had been up to in the north the past month, but one thing was certain.

Karyl had returned stronger than ever.

“The monster has truly become a god.”

She shuddered at his overwhelming presence, realizing how insignificant her own progress in Dragonization seemed by comparison.

“Anthem, commence the coronation. We’ve been graced with a fine offering. This will be the grandest coronation in history.”

Karyl pressed his foot down on Virtus’s back, pointing his blade at him.

“By spilling Nephilim blood, I proclaim to those above...”

The emerald blade scraped against the Fallen Angel’s neck.

“...That I am the true master of this land.”

Ssshk!

In one swift motion, Karyl thrust his blade in Virtus’s throat.

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