Helmut: The Forsaken Child - H.F.C Chapter 390 (Part 2):
Helmut replied slowly.
“Then I might have to seek you out again.”
*”If you ever need me, you can always find me through the mercenary guild.”*
Those were also Horten’s words from the past. He grinned and shook his head.
“Really? I’d rather you didn’t. If you’re calling on me, it’s bound to be something troublesome.”
Helmut didn’t believe he had the power of foresight. But for some reason, looking at Horten, he felt something.
That at some point in the future, he’d cross paths with this man again.
“You won’t run away, will you?”
“I’m a mercenary. If there’s coin in it, I’ll fight.”
Horten let out a hearty laugh and waved his hand.
“Good luck. Since you’ve defeated me, you’d better win this tournament.”
With those final words, Horten stepped down from the stage. Helmut watched his retreating figure before turning away. The first step had gone smoothly.
Would there be any variables that could disrupt things going forward?
‘If Elaga is right, there might be.’
Among them, there might be the only variable that could pose a threat to Helmut.
Holy power was an absolute danger to those who bore demonic energy.
The reason lay in their nature: holy power stemmed from this world, a force born to protect it, while demonic energy hailed from another realm. Like a hammer striking body and soul, demonic energy awakened and strengthened its wielder faster than any other force, but it left them vulnerable to holy power. No strength came without its flaws.
‘But what I possess isn’t just dark demonic.’
In fact, the demonic energy he carried was negligible compared to his Vis.
Yet, ironically, that small amount of demonic energy could exert dominance over his entire Vis. As he had experienced before.
Helmut took a deep breath as he stepped off the stage.
He had to keep moving. There was still a little way to go to reach the peak. If he continued silently, he would eventually get there.
“Did you see that just now? Did anyone actually see it properly?”
“Dark, was it? Where did such a skilled fighter come from?”
“Horten’s a top-rank mercenary, isn’t he? He rarely fails his missions!”
“Given how big this tournament is, even though the overall level has risen…”
“This is going to get interesting!”
Amid the excited murmurs of the crowd, Helmut exited the arena. While everyone’s attention was on him, a pair of golden eyes watched him intently.
A presence so faint it seemed to hold its breath.
A man who had hidden his identity, concealing himself to participate in this tournament as a mere swordsman, was also among the notable contenders in the main event.
For him, winning the tournament wasn’t just a possibility—it was a necessity.
That’s why he remained vigilant, personally observing the conditions of the top contenders.
And today, the participant wearing the iron mask was a man of terrifying skill.
A force that couldn’t be taken lightly. But the man shook his head.
‘I have this, after all.’
He brushed his hand over the sword at his waist. No human could overcome the power of the divine. Borrowing the power of a weapon didn’t diminish his skill as a swordsman.
He was the one who had earned the right to wield holy power. That right wasn’t granted to just anyone.
The choice wasn’t his to make—it was the sword’s.
This man possessed the pinnacle of human potential.
A once-in-a-century talent for swordsmanship.
Like the sun in the sky, his life under the light of Lumen had honed his talent and instilled in him a devout heart.
He was Lumen’s first sword. The strongest blade.
Yet something gnawed at him. This “Dark” was strong, but it wasn’t just strength.
From his ashen Vis, the man sensed a sinister, dark power. A power no human should possess.
Yet, it wasn’t uncommon for humans to carry a trace of dark energy.
Especially monster hunters, who were constantly exposed to demonic energy, often carried a faint residue of it.
When they felt it accumulating, they would visit the temple for purification.
The demonic energy emanating from the iron-masked man was similar in degree.
‘But this one… there’s something ominous about him.’
The amount of demonic energy wasn’t the issue. His instincts as a holy knight were sounding an alarm.
Why that man was here.
There was something about this man. Something tied to why he’d entered this tournament.
*Hummm.* As if in response, the sword at his waist vibrated faintly. As if affirming that his intuition wasn’t wrong.
At that moment, the man’s head turned. The golden-eyed man quickly lowered his body, hiding himself among the crowd.
When he raised his head again, the iron-masked man was gone.
A belated sense of humiliation washed over him. The sacred sword of Lumen.
Why should he have to hide like a rat? Never in his life had he experienced such a thing.
But he was here to win the tournament—to fulfill that mission. Hiding himself momentarily was no issue if it served that purpose.
The man barely managed to suppress his pride.
Yet, those eyes—the iron mask, the abyss-like gaze—had left a deep impression.
Suddenly, a word escaped the man’s lips.
“Renosa…”
The man’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t understand why the word “Renosa” had come to mind when he saw those black eyes.
But as a holy knight, he couldn’t ignore his intuition. His thoughts deepened.
The sword at his waist fell silent once more, waiting for the day it would reveal its power to the world.