Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 85: Burial Blade
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 21:52:53 +0000 UTC“Die! Die! Die!”
Invisible white ripples spread from Gehrman’s weapon, harvesting the corrupted one after another with nimble, precise cuts. His specially forged weapon was a single-bladed scythe that most transcendent beings would never dare wield. Its deadly edge always slipped in at impossible angles, tearing flesh from his enemies.
Forged from rare materials—it was a legendary weapon. And since it was crafted by Gehrman’s own hands, the weapon and its master were a perfect match.
Its name: Burial Blade.
In his merciless hunt, every swing of the scythe was also a solemn rite, offering mercy through death.
“Rest in peace.”
Passing his prey, Gehrman’s blade arced in a counter-clockwise sweep, then rested gracefully across his back. He curled his lips into a satisfied smirk and adjusted the brim of his round hat. Behind him, dozens of corrupted and fountains of blood froze as if time had stopped, then burst into fragments a few seconds later.
Not a single drop of blood had touched Gehrman. He looked utterly unbothered, as though he had merely strolled through a marketplace after tidying a street. To him, such feats were trivial. The ruined remains of Seth Town, with its collapsed streets and jagged debris, provided a terrain perfectly suited to his style. The Burial Blade’s detachable, transforming form let him strike lethally even in the tightest spaces.
He pushed deeper into the ruins than anyone else.
The veteran hunter knew that cutting down twisted lives one after another was but a drop in the ocean. What was truly needed was to eradicate the corruption at its root.
Corruption…
The soil of Seth was no longer normal earth. Peel away the wrinkled, leathery surface, and beneath lay sticky, gritty, paste-like filth. More horrifying was that no sign of natural life remained. Not even the hardiest insects could survive within it.
Corruption—the most direct manifestation of Chaos’s invasion. It reshapes the world itself, twisting it into a place more suited for the creatures of the Warp. So-called Chaos-fallen zones are areas completely remade; reclaiming them is nearly impossible.
Thankfully, Seth’s ruins had not yet reached that stage. At most it was shallow contamination. If the source was destroyed and intense purification performed, the land could recover within a few years.
“She should know how to handle this,” Gehrman muttered.
Disgusted, he pressed his boot into the corrupted soil. He thought of his beautiful disciple. She had suffered injuries in this disaster, yet unlike the unfortunate paladins, she bore no signs of corruption. Clearly, Maria’s secrets were greater than he imagined.
He rubbed his chin with an amused expression.
Meanwhile, outside the ruins of Seth—
Miss Maria, keeper of many secrets, stood gazing at the hometown she had personally set ablaze. She saw it all as if still alive: the festivals, the simple but shrewd townsfolk, the serene life, and the little chapel that would live forever in her memory.
“It’s almost… completely over.”
She watched the priests at work, listened to the clanking armor of the paladins, and knew her ties to Seth had ended. The rest was no longer her burden; the clergy had found their path and would finish the work.
What now? Where would she go?
A flicker of uncertainty clouded her crimson eyes as she stood in the gentle spring breeze, brushing aside her silver fringe. Sunlight spilled across her shoulders, making the scene almost painfully beautiful.
And into this beauty intruded something jarringly out of place.
“Sigh…”
“Why sigh, Lady Dolores?” At the sound, Maria flinched hard.
The Steel Nun looked nothing like her. Beside Maria’s ethereal grace, Dolores was all primal force. The contrast was like beast and princess. Not that Dolores lacked charm—she was striking enough—but the wild, oppressive aura around her overshadowed everything.
“Mark ordered me to escort you back.”
She spoke the archbishop’s name aloud with casual disrespect. The surrounding clergy pretended not to hear. Clearly, such irreverence was nothing new for Dolores.
Maria was silent for a moment, then caught the subtle meaning in her words.
“Escort?”
“That’s right. Escort. You know how troubled the world has been lately. I was sent to handle another tragedy like this one—not the same form, but the essence was the same.” Dolores’s words revealed much. The Radiant Church was already aware of Chaos’s influence.
If they had experience with such incursions, then they also knew: surviving Chaos did not always mean safety.
Escort? The word carried another implication. If Maria herself bore corruption, then the one being protected would not be her—it would be everyone around her.
“When Gehrman returns, we’ll depart.” Maria’s heart churned. She instinctively felt that the disaster of Seth would not leave her so easily.
“Mm. I never thought I’d meet Gehrman again, though.” Dolores’s eyes held unmistakable respect. Here was a man who wandered the continent alone, hunting the most dangerous beings alive. His deeds had earned him great esteem within the righteous churches.
Sometimes, the clergy even hired him to hunt troublesome cultists.
“You admire him greatly,” Maria remarked.
“Of course. He is the man who has slain legends…”
