Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 161: Boiling Point

As painful as the memory was, Percival’s unconscious forced him to go through them again yet again. His own death. He remembered the moment perfectly.

He remembered fire and ice burning his skin as he forced his sword into Liraeth’s stomach. But her magic had weakened him enough for Aethelstan to land the killing blow.

That sound of steel rang in Percival’s ears like a death call. He remembered the shock of the blade sliding through his chest.

The weight of the sword pushing deeper. He remembered how his lungs refused to draw breath as blood flooded them.

There was another sound of steel that rang in his ears. It was his own sword, the Kingdom Sword, falling to the ground.

Percival remembered looking down and seeing the hilt protruding from his own body. Then looking up at the person who held it.

Aethelstan. The same face that was right in front of him. Perhaps even the same expression.

"You really didn’t think the kings would let you live, did you? The people already love you, we can’t let them believe that you saved them. You must die, Percy."

Percival remembered that quote like it was an anthem, an oath. It was neither of those things but it still served the same purpose.

It reminded him of his goal. Unlimited Security.

—From people like Aethelstan.

That memory hit Percival so hard that for a brief second his fingers twitched where they hung at his sides. The urge to reach for a weapon came so instinctively that he had to clamp down on it with difficult will.

Rage surged through him like a wildfire racing through dry timber. Not the loud kind of rage. Not the kind that makes men shout or charge blindly.

No. This one was something darker. Calm and devastating like a black hole.

It burned deep in his ribs, spreading slowly outward, filling his veins with its poisonous heat.

His heart began to beat harder. His pulse was steady, but each beat weighed more, like they were hammering molten iron through his body rather than blood.

The muscles in his jaw tightened until his teeth pressed together with enough force to ache.

Look at that face. That face that pretended to be his friend for 3 years. That face that betrayed him. That killed him.

It was only fair that Percival returned the favor. It was only fair that he killed him.

He wanted to.

Not later.

Now. Right that very second.

The thought came with frightening clarity.

Step forward. Draw the blade. Drive it through his throat.

Certainly Aethelstan would fight back, but he was no match for Percival now. Not even with the shiny new equipment that bedecked his royal, treacherous body.

"I asked a question," Aethelstan reminded him, his tone sharpening. "And I do not like to repeat myself."

Percival stared into his face, not showing a reaction despite the turmoil in his heart. Aethelstan stepped forward, squaring up with the Hero who was clearly now intentionally ignoring him.

But then, the Prince stopped. He had been taken aback by something—an energy that he had never experienced before. His eyes narrowed at Percival, realizing it was coming from him.

The ground beneath Percival’s greaves groaned only for Aethelstan to fill, and his dark aura flared, blanketing Aethelstan that he could even feel it inside his high tier armor.

Percival looked into his eyes with apathy and warning. "I suggest that you get out of my way now, or my next actions will be regretted by everyone. I included."

Aethelstan stared at Percival for a moment, as he pushed out his own aura, a holy presence that made heart’s race. Then, he broke into a slow, arrogant smile.

"Is that a threat... Outworlder?"

Percival creased his brows. "Step back. Let me pass and I’ll be on my way."

Aethelstan scoffed. "Do you realize that you’re talking to the Prince of Valoris? Though I assume that if you have no respect for my father, you wouldn’t have any for his son."

"Your assumptions are correct," Percival deadpanned.

That infuriated the Prince even more. "You outworld scum! I should teach you how to respect royalty! Even more, the true Hero of Evernia!"

Percival scrutinized him plainly. "You’ve always sought glory and praise, haven’t you? It is why you could not stand living in my shadow."

Aethelstan grimaced, confusion plastered on his face. "What are you talking about, you deranged wolf?!"

"Enough! Enough!" Duke Ithalan cried. "Please! This should call for celebration. The Hero is here and the Alpha Gate has been closed. No more issues, right?"

"Do not call this trash the Hero, Lord Ithalan!" Aethelstan commanded. "He is no Hero. I am the Hero."

Omares eyed him.

"I lead the Heroes’ Party just like the Hero. So I’m the Hero!"

The words fell into the gathering like a torch into dry straw.

Aethelstan’s expression twisted as though something foul had just been shoved down his throat. The arrogance in his posture hardened into something sharper—something ugly and wounded.

Around them, the gathered Awakeners shifted uneasily. Some looked between the two men with fascination, others with growing dread.

Percival remained exactly where he stood.

Unmoving. His gaze never left Aethelstan’s face, and that only made the Prince angrier.

"What?! You dare stand there and look down on me?" Aethelstan spat, the veins in his neck tightening beneath the collar of his armor. "You speak like you know me! Like you know anything about me!"

Percival didn’t answer.

The silence was louder than any insult. The Prince couldn’t handle it anymore. This bastard outworlder was making him look ridiculous in front of everyone!

Steel flashed as Aethelstan tore his sword free from its jeweled scabbard.

"Enough, Aethelstan!" Omares commanded. But the Prince was too ego-bruised to hear anything but his crashing chip he had once held on his shoulder.

"Bring out your weapon and fight me!" Aethelstan yelled.

His movement was fast, blindingly so by ordinary standards. Years of elite training and mana retention fueled the strike as he drove forward with killing intent. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

Percival felt his body engine flare up with excitement. An opportunity had arisen.

His figure immediately dissolved into a burst of cold blue smoke, and Aethelstan’s blade cleaved through empty air.

Percival appeared right behind him, and as he withdrew the Basilisk Blade from his Case, he was suddenly struck by a blast of fire.

Percival shifted to the side, barely harmed by the weak blast. He turned to see that it was Liraeth, and she was running towards him, summoning two more fireballs.

"Liraeth! What are you doing?" her teammates asked.

"You filthy Outworld monster!" she shrieked. "How dare you lay a hand on His Highness! I’ll kill you myself!"

Another blast of magic screamed toward him.

Percival stepped aside effortlessly, the attack ripping past him and blasting a crater into a small rock.

"Die you disgusting trash!" she cried.

Percival’s face twisted into a scowl that truly showed the rage within him for the first time. It was just too much hold back.

Her voice. Her face. Everything about this red haired bitch infuriated him. Even more than Aethelstan.

Liraeth raised her hands again, launching the fireballs!

"You stupid parasite!" she screamed. "The world would be better if you had died in that Gate World! I’ll finish you off!"

Percival’s anger reached his boiling point. He was beyond irritated now and there was nothing hindering him from acting.

His hand settled around the hilt of the Basilisk Blade, and he sped forward.

Liraeth unleashed her next attack. A storm of fireballs screamed toward him.

Percival stepped through them.

One. Two. Three.

Each blast missed him by inches as he advanced, the air rippling with the displacement of his movements.

Then he vanished and Liraeth paused in surprise. It was then he reappeared directly in front of her.

Liraeth’s eyes widened as she saw the anger on Percival’s face. The anger he’d been masking from a past life she was unaware of.

His face was the last thing she saw. Right after that, the black steel cut through her stomach, and he landed right behind her.

Silence came right after. Time slowed.

The expression on Liraeth’s face shifted from fear... to confusion.

Her mouth opened, but it wasn’t words that spilled out this time. Just blood.

The line of the blade slowly burned across her torso as blue mana hissed violently along the wound.

Then—

Her body separated.

The upper half slid away from the lower and Liaeth’s body fell apart.

The white forest descended into horrified silence.