[Title: Why Is the Special Ops Unit’s Rep So Bad?]
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Content: Why do these guys hate me so much?
I’m very confused.
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-: The Face Thief is really causing chaos.
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-[Author]: Gah damn it.
How do I restore this reputation?
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-: Truthfully, you don’t really need to fix it.
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-[Author]: Really?
No penalties?
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-: Yeah, they all got wiped out anyway due to the Face Thief’s chaos.
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-[Author]: Oh, lol, this is gold.
—
-: Is this actually considered “gold”…?
-: This dung-game somehow optimizes the most toxic mindset.
-: But yeah, what you said is correct though.
Since there’s no way to clear the suspicion on the Special Ops Unit or help them…
—
***
Magnus, the captain of the Devilan Knight Order’s Special Ops Unit.
The instinct of this master swordsman, honed to the peak of mastery, was screaming.
“Move!”
“The opponent’s off-balance from his missed attack! Go for the opening, now!”
In the high-stakes decisions of real combat, where a single moment could decide life or death, a swordsman relied above all else on the intuition sharpened by decades of experience.
Gaaah.
Magnus tightened his grip on the sword, every fiber in his body leaning forward, ready to pounce.
“Damn it…”
But there it ended.
Even as the battle unfolded and he continued to experience and learn from the irrational existence of the Face Thief, Magnus’s rational mind restrained his body.
The Face Thief could wield the sword techniques of several swordsmen at once, with a repertoire that easily surpassed a dozen styles. Among them was the renowned swordplay of a hero Magnus had witnessed long ago.
Not only that, but during their drawn-out fight, the Face Thief had added Magnus’s own swordsmanship—a lifetime worth of refinement—to his ever-growing arsenal in mere minutes.
The rumors were true. The Face Thief could watch a technique from seven paces away and instantly steal it. This monster could effortlessly replicate what any talented swordsman painstakingly mastered over decades, in the span of a single instant.
Could such a monster really make mistakes? Could they fail to steal someone’s technique?
It was inconceivable—unless it was the swordplay of a true Sword Master.
Because of this, Magnus hesitated to exploit any perceived openings in the Face Thief’s movements.
More than hesitation… he felt fear.
Magnus knew it well. He felt it every time he faced the Face Thief.
Thump.
Without realizing it, he took a step back.
“What… was that sword just now?!”
The trigger had been the strike the Face Thief had just unleashed.
That strike was more dangerous than any the Face Thief had ever used before. Perhaps it was even more dangerous than all his other moves combined.
The technique itself wasn’t the issue.
Never had Magnus faced a sword so sharp, so deadly. Never had he felt the cold, inescapable certainty of death as acutely as he had in that moment.
It was unprecedented. If it weren’t, Magnus wouldn’t be standing here now.
And so, Magnus had to admit something he’d been denying.
The real reason he couldn’t approach the Face Thief…
It wasn’t just because of their monstrous ability. It was the unnamed, unnamed strike the Face Thief had unleashed—a technique without “form” or “style.” It existed solely for one purpose: to kill.
In this moment, the confidence Magnus had developed as a master of the blade—someone capable of countering any sword technique—was shattered. That sword was beyond what someone like him could ever hope to handle.
“……!”
And then it happened.
Magnus’s face twisted in horror.
“Haa… Haa…”
Something was wrong with the Face Thief. Their breathing, which had always remained steady, was now erratic—not from exhaustion, but from overwhelming emotion. They were losing control.
It wasn’t the Face Thief controlling the sword anymore. It was the sword controlling the Face Thief.
An incomplete imitation. A sword too great to be fully mastered.
The Face Thief, too, was stepping backward, clearly disturbed.
“What is this… What kind of sword is this?! How could such a technique even exist?!”
Sometimes a sword technique carries with it an all-consuming image of death. When a swordsman is unable to contain it, the technique takes over. This was what they called the “Saber Technique.”
The Face Thief was a former master of the Assassin Guild, spending countless years cultivating control over themselves. They were someone who could resist even the most overwhelming influences. They maintained self-awareness even as they wielded the “Faceless Fluid,” a mystical item that carried the essence of countless swordmasters.
So it was incomprehensible to the Face Thief now.
“I… I, of all people… Am being consumed by the image of this technique?!”
Their breathing grew heavier, entirely independent of their will.
Their pupils dilated, their blood surged, and their heart raced.
Their sanity began to fade, replaced by pure instinct.
Like a beast that had caught the scent of blood.
“Ugh… Ugh…”
The Face Thief felt an unquenchable thirst they had never experienced in their life—a thirst for blood.
“!!!”
In desperation, they plunged the sword into their own palm, attempting to use the pain to regain clarity and suppress their primal urges.
They wanted to master the image. To take control.
But another strange thing happened.
Instead of bringing clarity, the sight of torn flesh and flowing blood only fueled their violent desires.
Could the scent of blood ever feel so intoxicating?
The Face Thief was overwhelmed with the impulse to smear the blood across their face.
“AAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
With a roar of frustration, they shook off the impulse.
“What the hell *is* this sword?!”
What kind of human could harbor such a dark image?
What kind of swordsman could possibly control it?
One thing was certain: the owner of this sword could never have been human.
It must belong to a demon, or at the very least, some monstrous being of immense power.
How had the mage wielded such a terrible sword with such ease?
It was unclear.
There was only one certainty in the current situation.
Right now.
The unwavering confidence of the Face Thief, who could effortlessly mimic any sword technique he faced, had been shattered.
This blade was beyond his capability to handle.
…
Standing against that Saber Strike alone was absolutely out of the question!
Magnus used the moment when the Face Thief was struggling in thought to put some distance between them.
…
Shaking off this thought was the priority!
The Face Thief, seizing the opportunity as Magnus moved away, increased the distance even further.
Eventually, as if by mutual agreement, both parties simultaneously broke off their confrontation.
The shadow of a Saliungeui, something that didn’t even exist in this world, had triumphed over the Hero Killer and his pursuer.
***
“By the way, Clanar. May I ask you something about swords?”
The Hero Killer.
A monster capable of mimicking the unique swordsmanship of a 7th Class Swordsman while standing still.
The warning from Towah that such an extraordinary entity might confront me had truly spurred me into action.
Upon returning to my room, I immediately began sword training and, while warming up, sought guidance from Clanar.
-What is it?
Though answering with a hint of cynicism, Clanar faced me earnestly, summoning her spirit form.
“Now, about your sword—do you have any special precautions to follow when wielding it?”
-Precautions?
“Yes. Since completing this enhancement ability, I’ve realized—techniques that draw out power beyond their limit usually come with side effects. I was wondering if your sword has any such considerations.”
…
Clanar glared at me intensely.
“What?”
-Don’t you feel anything when you wield my sword?
“How could I not? Every time I use your swordsmanship, it leaves a deep impression on me.”
-…Truly? You really feel something when you use my sword?
“Of course. It’s such a powerful and convenient swordsmanship. With every strike that subdues an opponent, I vividly feel its strength.”
-…
Ah.
The little killer spirit sighed, looking upward.
“Could I be doing something wrong?”
-Shut up.
Leaving only those words, Clanar returned to the spirit realm.
“Hey, Clanar! That’s not fair! You told me there are precautions but didn’t specify what they are! Do you even know the two things that drive people mad? One is not finishing a sentence…”
-Weapon woman!!! How dare you trouble your lord this way!! Remember your place!!
-Please, both of you, be quiet.
For some reason, Clanar remained troubled and ultimately did not reveal the reason.
As a result, I could only proceed with my solitary sword training.
Given my current situation—having not yet attained the insight of a 7th Class swordsman—the scope of my training was predetermined.
It was to practice maintaining Clanar’s style while using the enhancement ability.
Maintaining the enhanced power and controlling that strength proved to be immensely difficult, far beyond my expectations.
Regardless of how intricate it was, the physical strain was indescribable.
I concluded that using this ability freely in actual combat would amount to a wasteful expenditure equivalent to “giving up the game and scattering items.”
Around 5 seconds.
Or perhaps one strike.
That was currently my limit.
‘This must only be used during critical moments—when it’s absolutely necessary.’
In other words, it was what could be called a fatal move.
The thought crossed my mind that, despite being a ridiculous technique, I could at least learn to use it sparingly in real combat.
The results of my exhaustive training were somewhat satisfying.
-Weapon woman!!! You’ve caused Lord Czuni-ni distress by not helping!!
-If someone gets upset about this, they’ll never be satisfied with anything.
-Of course!!! Czuni-ni is the sovereign over all things in this world!!! How could someone like you comprehend satisfaction!!
“No, Dhangealion. Honestly, I feel somewhat satisfied now. This enhancement technique seems to complement Clanar’s style perfectly. Honestly, if it were another sword technique, I might not have been able to properly utilize this enhancement at all.”
-Exactly as expected! What humility! What self-restraint!! It’s one of the many virtues of Czuni-ni!!! Hey, weapon woman! Show reverence and joy! Czuni-ni has given a generous evaluation of your insignificant effort!
-Eh… If in actual combat, you find yourself needing to use both this ability and my sword style simultaneously—don’t let it last more than one move.
“Yes. I was thinking the same thing.”
-Oh Lord, what solitude…! Czuni-ni!!! Please, bestow upon me the same glory and mercy you’ve given to this weapon woman…!!!
“Glory and mercy?”
-May Czuni-ni’s vast vessel encompass even the scorching flames of Dhangealion!
“Scorching flames? Ah, are you talking about that fiery sword—”
-There is no flame!!! It must have been a misjudgment due to the darkness!
“Hmm…”
Honestly, I became curious.
The fiery power of Dhangealion’s sword that I witnessed in the back alley was truly demonic.
But the problem was—it was far too demonic.
‘An unquenchable fire on the sword… Isn’t this excessively demonic?’
Even the ruler of the back alley, who had wielded a relic empowered by Dhangealion, was suspected of being a Black Mage at the time.
“Using that power recklessly could easily draw suspicion as if one were a Black Mage or a Demon Follower, right?”
-Czuni-ni!!! How could you say such a thing! Is Czuni-ni ashamed of demons?!
“Isn’t that usually the case?”
-Impossible!!! If that’s true, I, Dhangealion, the sacred flame that shuns evil! I will quit being a demon right now!!!
“…Can you just stop being a demon if you want?”
Apparently, the sense of alienation (?) Dhangealion was feeling was genuine.
His earnest persuasion continued afterward.
It would undoubtedly persist until I accepted.
Eventually, having no other choice, I decided to learn about the flames on his sword.
A skill that could become immensely powerful and useful depending on how it was applied.
That was certain.
– The negative glances of the vermin should not be something that can be resolved by your light of discernment, should they!
By using that power as Dhangealion had suggested, the negative glances that would follow could be resolved by my light of discernment.
For reference, here, the “light of discernment” refers to “the sense of propriety regarding time and place.”
“Then, shall we have a taste?”
– That’s the perfect mindset to approach the devil’s power.
– You weapon-using wench!!! Can’t you be more careful with your words!!!
When Clanar jeered, Dhangealion let out a startled cry.
Clanar must be worried that her words might change my mind.
– A devil!!! How dare you lump me together with such base and lowly things!!!
Ah.
So that’s what’s bothering you.
– Immediately retract that statement, or I shall curse your existence forever – no, I shall bless it – no…!! What, what in the world!!! What should a truly non-diabolical being do in this situation?! Czulini, please enlighten me…
“I’m not well-versed in all this, but I’ve heard that love is stronger than hate.”
-Gaaaaaah!!! You weapon-using wench!!! I love you!!! Die!!!
-Goodness gracious. I’ve sinned, so please do shut your mouth.
A devil going through growing pains.
While sitting on the bed and recuperating from the fatigue of training, enjoying this rare spectacle, it was then.
“Hm?”
The sense of presence that had become active during training but had yet to fully fade had picked up on something.
It was the approach of numerous footsteps rapidly drawing near.
-The door creaked open without warning.
I wasn’t startled by the mere fact that the door was opening, as I had anticipated it. What surprised me was the composition of the unexpected visitors.
“Towah?”
There was Towah, who had apparently changed out of her armor into casual clothing, standing at the door. And with her were what appeared to be members of the Devilan Knight Order, presumably her subordinates.
I jumped to my feet in surprise.
Then, Towah calmed me with a composed gesture and spoke.
“My apologies. We’ve committed a discourtesy out of necessity to resolve a misunderstanding against you.”
She then pointed to a middle-aged man standing beside her and continued.
“Let me introduce you. This is Magnus, the captain of our Special Operations Unit. According to his testimony, this afternoon on the street, he was lured by someone identical in appearance to you and engaged in combat.”
It didn’t seem like a particularly serious situation, and Towah appeared to be trying to put me at ease.
Responding to her efforts, I decided to humor her with a jest to show how reassured I was.
“Someone identical in appearance to me? People as handsome as me aren’t common, you know, hahaha.”
“You’re right. People as handsome as you are not common.”
However, Towah took my jest seriously and nodded her head, then continued addressing the man beside her named Magnus.
“Magnus, as I’ve said many times, Rishe has been in this estate all day. His identity is vouched for by me, so stop doubting him already.”
“…”
Magnus looked me up and down cautiously before reluctantly nodding.
‘Ah, could it be that?’
I had a rough idea of what was going on. I spoke to Towah.
“Could it be that the Face Thief stole my face and pretended to be me?”
“Yes.”
“Wow… when did he steal it again…”
I was truly shocked. To have someone steal my face without my awareness and impersonate me as Rishe…
If Towah hadn’t stood up for me entirely, there would have been a major misunderstanding between this captain, Magnus, and me.
A conflict with an officer of the Knight Order was a chilling thought, even to imagine.
“Hm?”
Just then, another thought crossed my mind.
A considerable amount of time had passed since Towah and I had parted ways outside Drey’s room. Moreover, I had been alone in my room ever since I had left Drey’s quarters.
There was enough reason to suspect, “Could I have slipped out of the estate during that time and caused some disturbances?”
A question arose from this suspicion.
How did Towah manage to immediately believe ‘Rishe has been impersonated by the Face Thief’ instead of jumping to the conclusion of ‘Rishe might himself be the Face Thief’?
How could she trust me so completely and without a second thought, based on her character?
I expressed this doubt to Towah as it was.
In response, Towah gave Magnus a meaningful glance. A look of embarrassment passed over Magnus’s face.
“…”
The knights surrounding them tried their best to suppress their laughter.
“The Face Thief. It was due to his foolish mistake.”
“Foolish mistake?”
“Yes. While impersonating you, a mage from the Gray Mage Tower, he made the mistake of using swordsmanship.”
It was so amusing that even the usually unsmiling expression of Towah softened into a faint smile.
The knights couldn’t contain their laughter anymore and burst out laughing. Even Magnus, who had been on the receiving end of the attack, couldn’t help but find it amusing and chuckled.
With caution, I asked Towah,
“Towah-dono, did you not hear any information about me from Drey-dono?”
“You know how talkative that guy gets when boasting about his people. I was busy, so I interrupted him to stop him from going on and on. Is there any problem with that?”
-Czulini’s light has guided them towards righteousness!!! Of course!!!
“Ah, no… you did well…”
Carefully, I averted my eyes from Towah’s gaze.
***
