F-ranker Sword Saint: My Soulbound Sword is Secretly SSS-tier!-Chapter 244: Final Foe

[You have slain a Cursed Spirit: Commodus.]

[You have obtained 150,620 experience points.]

[Congratulations! You’ve leveled up to 64!]

[You have obtained a Sword Spirit: [Commodus, Warlord of the Forsaken Legions (Cursed)]

Daru’s eyes widened at the last notification.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to check what a "Sword Spirit" was, he couldn’t.

Not yet.

He had defeated Commodus, but he did not obtain the relic.

Daru turned to look at the Stone Throne at the far end of the vast hall.

There, the last relic was resting atop the head of the fallen ruler. He quickly moved over to retrieve it.

He shall check his inventory later.

The throne was some distance away from where he was, so Daru ran, unwilling to waste another moment.

After all, a second later could mean another death.

The moment he passed a certain part of the hall, his eyes flickered for a moment.

He felt something — a millisecond resistance, as if a barrier scanned him, then let him pass.

Daru’s speed slowed down for a moment as he was disoriented.

But driven by his need to retrieve the relic as soon as possible, he was ultimately able to put the matter on the back of his head instantly.

He soon arrived in front of the king’s corpse.

Pausing for no longer than a moment, Daru grabbed the crown.

[You have obtained (1) Crown of the Forsaken Legions]

***

**

Outside the Throne Hall.

Snarls and hisses were drowned in the clangor of stone and steel.

Occasionally, the harrowing, dying cries of a wretch would assault the Egress Army’s ears, tending to the budding seed of despair in their hearts.

For how much longer do they need to keep doing this?

When? When would salvation arrive?

The Damnedlings were utterly spent, and a little over a hundred had perished already.

Very soon, that number would increase, and the rate would be disastrous.

Even their elegant and graceful, silver-haired champion was stumbling all over, getting tossed around by her opponent.

Just a few dozen meters from Elara, the bodies of three towering wraiths—one with a torn-open belly—oozed rivers of black blood.

Before her, a tall and slim jester with eldritch eyes smiled eerily, the gray estoc on his hands dripping with red blood.

"Really, no one cares about a poor, overworked, gorgeous young lady nowadays..." Elara grumbled, lashing out with her sword.

Caleb and Lesha were barely hanging on, too, and they had no idea what happened to those whom they could not immediately see.

Perhaps the familiar faces were no more.

Why would that matter now, though? After all, they, too, were about to join the black parade.

They were so exhausted that neither hope nor despair mattered anymore.

The two top-rankers only wanted to plop down and rest, whatever that would mean.

One more swing...after one more swing, he would be able to rest.

’Sorry, sis...’

But then, just when the stone blade that was about to harvest his wretched life was approaching, it stopped, hovering just two centimeters away from his abominable neck.

Caleb couldn’t care immediately.

It was only two moments later that he realized: the battlefield...was frozen?

Or rather, the enemies were.

A few meters away from them, the wraithly row fixed themselves, standing at attention.

Is this...Is this what Nando meant by "they would be fine?"

Soon, the Egress Army, too, realized it.

They had survived.

They would live to see another gray day, at least.

The mix of sheer exhaustion and relief pushed them closer to oblivion. Another moment later, the wretches plopped to the stone floor, unconscious.

Caleb and the other party leaders, too, would’ve succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue...had their eyes not been kept open by the only normal thing that remained.

A few dozen meters away from them and in a space littered with horrifying corpses, Elara battled The Eye.

She was mostly on the defensive, though.

Having already used all of her stamina and health potions, Elara struggled against her grim fate, cursing inside: ’This unsightly clown dares make me look as bad as him! Had I been in my best condition...’

She would’ve been gritting her teeth if she were alone.

However, eyes were on her. She could not lose composure.

’Hello? Enemies are frozen, pretty princess in distress...where’s my knight in shining armor? Anyone! Just help, damn it! You’re all really going to make a lady say it?!’ Elara was flabbergasted at what was going on.

Why was no one helping her?! 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Perhaps if she didn’t look too composed, Caleb and the others would’ve struggled against all odds, but they feared they would only get in her way.

So, they stood rooted in place, unsure of what to do.

It was then that a black and gold blur dashed past the Damnedling army.

Daru — his tachi burning in a chilling black aura — slashed at Harlowe. The demonic jester noticed a bit late.

However, he was still able to raise his weapon to block properly, although defense wasn’t really an estoc’s forte.

The entire weight of Daru’s blade crashed onto the thin blade.

In the next moment, Harlowe’s feet left the ground, and the demonic jester was sent flying a few dozen meters, staggering a few more just to recover his footing.

Meanwhile, a smile as sweet as honey graced the battered princess’s face. She noticed the black crown on his head.

"My, aren’t you dashing, Onimaru Kunitsuna? Literally and figuratively."

Daru glanced at her, then shifted his focus back to the remaining foe.

"Can you stand? Do you need my help? Quick, we still have one last enemy."

Elara clicked her tongue.

"Still unpleasant to talk to, though..."

In the next moment, the clash began again, but this time, it didn’t seem like it would last long.

Commodus was considerably stronger than Harlowe in combat. Yet, he fell to Daru’s blade.

The demonic jester also had nowhere to run, and perhaps that’s why he didn’t even attempt in the first place.

After all, the wraith army now follows Daru’s commands, and Harlowe had a sea of them to pass if he wanted to flee.

The only chance he had now was to steal The Crown for himself.

Unfortunately, the heartbroken jester was surrounded by enemies. His forte was ambush, and through it, he attempted to avenge his beloved...but failed.

Now, he had to fight for his life, alone, a mere final foe to make the hateful wretches’ victory official.

If only...

If only he acted before it was too late...