Chapter 95: Chapter: 95 Strongest man below swordmaster vs the weakest swordmaster. [1]

After covering the ice that held Kafrik, Vivian raised his hand, and the ground slowly rose, wrapping around the frozen figure like a grave.

The sound of shifting earth echoed through the air.

It wasn’t mercy that made him stop, he simply didn’t want Kafrik dead yet.

There were still many things he planned to do with him, many lessons he wanted him to learn.

When it was done, Vivian turned toward Charlotte.

His expression softened as he smiled, and this time, it wasn’t cruel.

It was gentle, warm, and full of love.

The sharp contrast made it even more unsettling.

Charlotte didn’t speak.

She only stared at him, her chest heavy with unspoken words.

The boy who once laughed easily and blushed over small things was gone.

What stood before her was someone else, someone who had seen too much darkness and chosen to embrace it.

"Haa...."

She sighed quietly, lowering her gaze.

’He used to be so pure,’ she thought, her lips trembling slightly.

Now that same smile hides a monster.

The image of Vivian calmly freezing and burying Kafrik replayed in her mind, and the bitterness in her heart deepened.

Clearing her thoughts, Charlotte finally spoke, her voice calm but uncertain.

"What now? The professor isn’t coming out."

Vivian’s eyes slowly shifted toward her.

His tone was quiet, almost casual.

"He should be here. Can you sense him?"

Charlotte closed her eyes for a moment, focusing.

Ever since Vivian awakened his intuition, his enhanced senses had faded away.

But she hadn’t awakened hers yet, so her perception remained sharp.

After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and said softly,

"He’s here... hiding. But I can’t tell exactly where."

A cold, mocking smile formed on Vivian’s face.

He turned his head slightly, his voice echoing through the area.

"Professor... no, maybe I should call you Number 9862?"

The air remained still.

No movement, no answer.

But Vivian didn’t stop.

He continued speaking, his tone steady and sharp.

"I know you’ve seen through my cultivation." He said.

"I may have used an artifact to conceal it, but a Swordmaster like you would still notice, especially if I used even a little mana."

"Apparently, I thought someone with your strength would be able to handle the likes of me and Charlotte,"

Vivian said, his tone sharp and mocking.

"But how timid of you to hide like a coward."

His voice grew louder, dripping with taunt and confidence.

Charlotte stood silently beside him, her expression calm.

She already knew everything about the professor, Vivian had told her long ago.

Nothing he said now could shock her.

Still, the way he spoke, so fearless and cutting, made her chest tighten slightly.

Vivian’s gaze swept across the silent space again.

"Come out," he called, his smile widening though his eyes betrayed a flicker of tension.

"There’s only one way you can stop me from ruining your plans."

His words carried the weight of certainty, as if he had already uncovered every secret the professor kept.

Inside, though, his heart wasn’t calm.

A faint unease coiled within him.

If the professor didn’t appear, everything he’d prepared would fall apart.

Still, he didn’t let it show.

He kept speaking, voice steady and bold.

"I know you don’t serve Duke Tramplin," he said slowly, each word deliberate.

"You’re planning something far more dangerous... something vile."

To anyone listening, it would sound like Vivian knew everything.

But the truth was far from it.

He was gambling, throwing out pieces of information he’d gathered from fragments of his previous life, hoping they would strike somewhere close to the truth.

And in that gamble, his calm smile was his greatest weapon.

And those vague words weren’t without ground.

In his previous life, Kafrik had once boasted that both House Sant and Zenithara would kneel before him, and he had mentioned someone known only as Clown.

From that, Vivian had pieced together enough to know that something far greater was moving in the shadows, an ambition to take over the Empire itself.

He smirked coldly and raised his voice again.

"Well, I suppose an experiment can’t express his own will, can he?"

His tone dripped with mockery as he spat on the ground, the sound echoing in the still air.

But silence followed.

Not a whisper, not a breath.

Vivian’s confidence wavered for an instant.

’He really is an experiment?’

The thought cut through his mind like a blade.

’Even after everything I’ve said... no reaction?’

A faint pulse of anxiety stirred in his chest, but he forced it down, burying it beneath his icy stare and that same cruel smile.

"I guess you need his permission to move, don’t you?" he said, voice low and sharp.

The words rolled out like a challenge, steady and deliberate, even as his mind raced behind the calm mask.

After a long, tense silence, there was still no sign of movement, no breath, no sound, not even the faintest ripple of mana.

It was as if the professor had vanished from existence.

Vivian’s jaw tightened.

Anxiety gnawed at the edge of his calm, but he refused to let it win.

Taking a steady breath, he spoke again, voice sharp as a blade.

"I guess the Clown would prefer—"

Before he could finish, Charlotte’s eyes widened.

"There," she said quickly.

The instant the word left her lips, a blazing fireball formed above her head, humming with deadly heat.

Vivian didn’t hesitate.

In a flash, he pulled his sword from his subspace, mana flaring around him.

His figure blurred, then vanished, reappearing a hundred feet away from Charlotte.

His cold gaze scanned the air, catching the faint shimmer of mana.

He raised his sword, voice low and cutting through the air like ice.

"There you are."

Boom!

The clash shook the ground as Vivian’s sword met a massive greatsword head-on, releasing a deafening explosion.

A shockwave burst outward, scattering dust and rubble through the air.

Vivian slid backward several paces, boots digging into the dirt before he steadied himself.

The air was thick with dust, swirling like smoke.

Through it, a tall, shadowy figure stood, gripping a greatsword in both hands, its edge still glowing faintly from the impact.

Vivian’s hand trembled slightly from the collision.

He glanced at it, his expression unreadable, then looked back toward the figure with a thin, mocking smile.

"You really are a rat," he said, his voice low but filled with venom.

"Hiding in the dark until your little offspring were discovered, huh?"

The dust slowly settled, revealing the faint outline of the professor, no longer the calm baldy, but something far more dangerous.

Vivian’s eyes narrowed, his killing intent so sharp it almost felt tangible.

The air around him seemed to tremble with it, yet the professor stood calmly, his expression unbothered.

His grip on the greatsword didn’t loosen, but his tone remained steady as he spoke.

"How do you know about him?"

Vivian tilted his head slightly, a mocking smile curving his lips.

"Who?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence.

The professor didn’t react to the taunt.

He simply studied Vivian in silence for a moment, then said in a quiet, thoughtful tone,

"About Clown. Nobody should know of his existence."

Vivian didn’t respond immediately, and the professor’s brows drew together slightly, his voice lowering further.

"And you know about the plan too, don’t you?"

He took a slow step forward, his greatsword resting against his shoulder, eyes sharp with curiosity.

"Who told you these things?"

The wind rustled faintly between them, carrying the weight of his words.

Behind Vivian’s cold gaze, a spark of satisfaction flickered, he had gotten exactly what he wanted: confirmation.

Vivian wasn’t sure yet, his bait had worked, but not enough.

The professor had revealed something important without even realizing it, and that single slip confirmed more than any answer could.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

He needed proof.

He adjusted his stance, mana flaring around him as he prepared to lunge, but before he could move, a streak of heat passed by his side.

Charlotte’s fireball blazed through the air, aimed straight at the professor.

The professor didn’t flinch.

Not even a hint of panic crossed his face.

With a calm, almost detached tone, he whispered,

"Ice,"

and swung his greatsword in a clean horizontal arc.

Whosh.

Frost formed instantly along the blade, and the fireball shattered on contact, its flames snuffed out in a burst of steam.

But before the air could clear, Vivian was already there.

He appeared in front of the professor in a blink, sword flashing with mana, and the horns on his head shimmered faintly with light energy.

Clang!

Their blades collided again, sparks and frost scattering in every direction.

The professor’s eyes flicked upward for just a heartbeat, catching sight of the glowing horns.

"Light—!" Vivian shouted, his voice cutting through the clash.

A blinding beam burst out from his horns, straight toward the professor’s chest, flooding the battlefield with searing white light.

For the briefest moment, the professor’s composure cracked, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the light beam.

But just as quickly, his calm returned.

He twisted his body, raising his greatsword to block.

He was a breath too late.

Only half the beam met the steel; the other half struck his chest directly.

Boom!

The explosion of light and sound threw him backward, his coat tearing from the force.

He hit the ground hard, sliding several meters before stopping in a cloud of dust.

The faint shimmer of mana flickered across his body, his shield had absorbed most of the damage.

The light hadn’t pierced his flesh, but the impact had clearly shaken him.

Slowly, the professor stood.

He brushed the dust from his shoulder with deliberate calm, the faint trail of smoke still rising from his chest.

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes carried a new sharpness, an almost curious gleam.

"Interesting," he murmured, voice low and steady, as if genuinely impressed.

Vivian’s grip tightened around his sword.

The professor’s tone wasn’t angry, it was intrigued.

And that, somehow, felt more dangerous than rage.