Chapter 220: Trial Of Lord [5] | 100 PS Bonus

The open grass field stretched beneath the morning sky, providing ample space for Elias and Stella to spar without worrying about damaging the surrounding houses.

Stella stood several paces away, holding her sword as she examined the crude blade in Elias’s hand. Its uneven edge and awkward balance were difficult to overlook, and she raised an eyebrow as she questioned him.

"Is that even a sword?"

Elias glanced at the weapon before shrugging. "It is good enough for now."

Stella gave him a doubtful look but did not press the matter. Instead, she raised her own sword and waited for him to get ready.

Elias tightened his grip on the hilt and settled into his stance, positioning his feet while keeping his center of gravity low. Although the weapon was different, the stance resembled the one he had developed for his sword art in the real world, and he instinctively adjusted his posture until he felt comfortable.

Stella watched him silently, her expression growing slightly more serious as she noticed the deliberate way he held himself.

"Ready?" she asked.

Elias nodded.

The moment Stella moved, he prepared to respond, but before he could even begin his swing, her sword descended in a clean, decisive arc.

Clang!

The sound of metal striking metal rang across the field, followed by a sharp crack as her blade sliced straight through his crude sword. The broken upper half spun through the air and landed in the grass, while Stella’s sword continued its path until its edge stopped beside Elias’s neck.

The entire exchange had ended in a single blow.

Elias froze, staring at the broken weapon in his hand before slowly shifting his gaze toward Stella. Even though he had expected to lose, he had not anticipated such a decisive defeat.

"..."

He swallowed, then looked at her sword with undisguised interest.

"Could you let the blacksmith examine your sword?" he asked. "If he can study its construction, perhaps he could forge something similar for me."

Stella immediately shook her head.

"No. We should focus on preparing for the Rotted instead," she replied, lowering her sword. "We do not have time to waste on this."

Elias frowned at the broken blade, reluctant to abandon the idea so quickly. However, after considering their situation, he reluctantly agreed that preparing the village was more important than improving his own weapon.

"But the villagers will still need weapons to defend themselves," he pointed out. "We cannot expect them to fight those creatures with farming tools."

"Then have the blacksmith make spears, axes, and hammers," Stella suggested. "They are much easier to learn and use than swords, and he should already know how to make them. We need weapons that ordinary people can handle, not swords that require years of training."

Elias fell silent for a moment before sighing in defeat.

She was right. Even if the blacksmith managed to forge a better sword, the villagers would not suddenly become skilled swordsmen. They needed practical weapons that could be used effectively with minimal training, especially when their enemy was something as horrifying as the Rotted.

"Fine. Let’s prepare the village," he finally agreed.

This time, Elias took an active role in organizing the villagers, helping Stella train the hunters and ensuring that everyone who was capable of fighting received a weapon.

With Elias’s help, far more villagers participated in the preparations than they had during his previous attempt. They reinforced the barricades with thicker logs, drove sharpened stakes into the ground, and strengthened the weaker sections with additional wooden supports.

For a while, their efforts made Elias believe that things might turn out differently this time.

However, seven days later, the Rotted arrived.

The grotesque masses of black tar crawled toward the village, their enormous maws opening across their shapeless bodies as their sickly tentacles writhed through the air.

The villagers raised their weapons as the creatures approached, but the sight of the Rotted quickly crushed the confidence they had gained through their preparations. Their reinforced barricade crumbled beneath the advancing masses, and the wooden stakes that had taken hours to install were swallowed along with the ground surrounding them.

The villagers froze, their weapons trembling in their hands as the same primordial terror that had overwhelmed them before seized their minds.

Stella forced herself forward, raising her sword as crimson Aura spread across its blade. She attacked the nearest creature, cutting through its tentacles and erasing portions of its body into smoke, but the Rotted continued advancing without slowing down.

Elias watched as Stella struggled against the monstrous mass, and although fear clawed at his chest, he forced himself to move.

He could not remain frozen again.

Gripping his axe, he rushed toward the nearest Rotted and swung at its black body with all the strength he could muster. The blade struck the creature’s surface, but instead of cutting through the tar, it sank slightly into the mass before becoming coated in the dark purple liquid.

A sizzling sound reached his ears.

Elias looked down in horror as the axe began to rot in his hands. Its metal surface darkened, and the wooden handle softened and crumbled, disintegrating before he could pull the weapon free.

Before he could react, several tentacles whipped toward him from different directions. One wrapped around his right arm, another coiled around his waist, and the rest seized his legs and left arm, lifting him from the ground as the creature dragged him toward its enormous body.

He struggled desperately, twisting his limbs and trying to tear himself free, but the tentacles tightened around him until he could barely move.

Nearby, Stella was already trapped beneath a mass of writhing appendages, her crimson Aura flickering as she struggled to cut herself loose.

Elias could only watch as the Rotted drew him closer, its black surface spreading over his body while the dark purple liquid began dissolving his flesh. Pain tore through him, but his gaze remained fixed on the village as the creature slowly consumed him.

Then he saw Natasha.

She stood amid the chaos, reaching toward him with one trembling hand as tears streamed down her face. Her mouth opened, and although the screams around them drowned out everything else, Elias could read his name on her lips.

"Elias!"

His heart twisted as he watched her desperately reach for him, unable to do anything but stare back at the woman he had once again failed to protect.

’Even after coming back to the past, I could not save anyone...’

With that thought, Elias died.

---

Elias opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed inside a small cottage.

For a moment, he remained still, staring at the wooden ceiling above him before slowly sitting upright. The familiar surroundings filled him with a sense of dread, and he turned toward the doorway as he waited for the inevitable voice.

A few moments later, the door opened, and Natasha stepped inside.

"It is good that you are awake," she mumbled, glancing at him before walking toward the table.

Elias stared at her for a moment, and mumbled, "I should prepare the fire."

Natasha nodded and began taking the ingredients from her bags while Elias walked toward the fireplace.

He arranged the firewood and carefully kindled a flame, but his thoughts remained elsewhere as the fire gradually grew brighter.

’How many times can I come back to the past?’

He had died twice, yet each time he had awakened in the same cottage, beside the same woman, with the same events waiting to unfold.

’Is there even a way for me to defeat the Rotted?’

No matter how much he prepared, the creatures remained overwhelmingly powerful. Even Stella, an Imperial knight captain, had been unable to stop them, and his own attempts to fight had ended in nothing more than futile resistance.

’And why am I the only one who can come back?’

He had no answers, only questions that seemed to grow heavier with each death.

Suddenly, Natasha wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back as she quietly asked, "Is something wrong?"

A sad expression crossed Elias’s face, but he shook his head.

"No..."

Natasha tightened her embrace, holding him as though she could feel the distress he was trying to hide.

"You can tell me everything, you know?" she whispered. "We are husband and wife now..."

Elias remained silent for a while before placing his hand over her arm and gently turning toward her. He looked into her eyes, searching for the words he needed to say.

"I want to go to the city beyond the mountains," he finally mumbled.

Natasha furrowed her brows, surprised by the sudden request.

"Why?"

"I just do..." Elias replied, unwilling to explain further.

She studied him for a moment before sighing.

"It will take us half a month to reach that place."

’That is why I am suggesting it,’ Elias remarked inwardly.

The Rotted would take a month to reach the village, which meant that if he could convince Natasha to leave now, they could reach the city well before the creatures arrived. They would be far away from the village when the massacre began, and for once, he might be able to save her.

"You are acting strange..." Natasha mumbled, tilting her head as she examined his face.

Then, as though she had found a reasonable explanation for his behavior, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"You are probably homesick. You did tell me that you once lived in the city."

Elias furrowed his brows.

"I did?"

Natasha tilted her head in confusion. "You do not remember?"

"I do no—"

"Oh, the dinner!" she exclaimed, abruptly turning toward the table. "Get aside. I have to cook dinner."

Elias blinked at her sudden change of subject, but he stepped away from the fireplace and allowed her to take over. As she began preparing their meal, he stood nearby and watched her in silence, his mind still occupied by the possibility of escaping the village before the Rotted arrived.

After that, everything unfolded much as it had during his previous attempts. The evening passed peacefully, and when night came, Elias lay beside Natasha until he was certain she had fallen asleep.

Then, quietly slipping out of bed, he dressed himself and began making his way toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Natasha mumbled sleepily.

Elias froze and glanced over his shoulder. She had barely opened her eyes, and her voice carried the drowsiness of someone who had been pulled from a deep sleep.

"I heard a sound outside," he explained. "I am just checking whether some animals got into the fields."

"All right," she murmured before turning over and returning to sleep.

Elias waited until her breathing settled again, then quietly left the cottage.

His steps carried him through the sleeping village toward Gram’s house. If he wanted to take Natasha to the city, he would need more than a handful of copper coins, and he already knew where he could obtain the money.

Upon reaching the house, he peered through a window and spotted Gram sleeping in his bed. The gold necklace lay beside him, suggesting that the old man had fallen asleep while holding it.

Elias stared at the necklace for a moment before carefully opening the door and slipping inside.

He held his breath as he crossed the room, placing each foot cautiously to avoid making even the slightest sound. Once he reached the bed, he bent down and picked up the necklace, then slowly turned toward the door.

However, just as he took his first step, the old wooden planks creaked beneath his foot.

Gram stirred.

Elias froze as the old man shifted in bed, then slowly opened his eyes and looked toward the figure standing beside him.

For an instant, Elias considered running. He could flee into the night and hope Gram would not recognize him, but the old man would undoubtedly wake the villagers and announce that someone had stolen his necklace. Once Natasha learned what had happened, she would refuse to leave until the necklace was found, and he would lose the chance to get her away before the Rotted arrived.

The familiar images flashed through his mind: the black tar spreading across the village, the villagers dissolving beneath its touch, Stella being swallowed, and Natasha reaching desperately toward him as she screamed his name.

He could not let that happen again.

His gaze darted around the room until he spotted a wooden staff leaning against the wall. Without allowing himself another moment to hesitate, he seized it with both hands and swung it at Gram with all the force he could muster.

The staff struck the old man’s head with a dull crack.

Gram let out a pained groan before collapsing onto the bed and sliding onto the floor.

"Huff... huff..."

Elias stood over him, breathing heavily as he stared at the motionless old man. The staff trembled in his hands, and his eyes widened as the reality of what he had just done began to settle over him.

"H-He is just unconscious, right?" he mumbled.