The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Household Wants A Divorce-Chapter 120: Come to You

Lohengrin and Sharen had shaken off most of the shock from learning their ancestors were Transcendents; now they hefted their great-swords in unison.

The conversation could not last long. Hellic loosed another blast of crimson aura at them.

At some point, the attack had ceased to resemble a “sword” at all.

It spread like fog, flowed like a quiet river, and crashed down like a waterfall.

It was no longer sword-energy but a materialization of Hellic’s murderous intent itself.

“Which is why it’s so flimsy.”

For all its breadth and freedom, it lacked every ounce of solidity.

Hellic’s eyes flickered the moment he saw his own crimson torrent ripped apart.

The hue was unmistakably different—

Blood-red energy slicing the air, fired from Rihanna’s great-sword.

Quantity was Hellic’s advantage, but density belonged entirely to her.

“Red Strike!”

Ironically, someone was admiring the enemy’s Red Strike.

Lohengrin, still desperate to imitate it, hadn’t grasped the knack yet.

“I’ll carve us a path,” Rihanna said, cleaving through the raging aura while striding forward. “Stick close behind me. This time, I swear I’ll protect you.”

There was no need to ask whom she meant.

Isaac pressed right up against her back, crimson hair brushing his nose, its scent filling his lungs.

Perhaps Rihanna inhaled his scent in turn; fresh vigor coursed through her body, and her swings grew even fiercer.

“Just this alone—”

Her murmur drifted past Isaac’s ears. He pretended not to hear, resting a hand on the saber at his waist and steadying his breath.

“You call that crimson aura? It’s not even aura!” Lohengrin bellowed on the right. A bit slow on the uptake, but at least he’d noticed.

“I wish I could wield crimson aura like that!” Sharen added, half-jealous. Compared with other Helmut, the aura she could muster was meager.

Before long, the three Helmut formed a protective triangle around Isaac.

Hellic, lips curled in a smile as he fired wave after endless wave of aura, felt his expression stiffen.

“We’re almost through,” Rihanna announced. The compacted crimson energy coating her blade flared—she had calculated a straight line they could break through.

“If we get any closer, who knows what trick he’ll try next,” she warned. The idea was to pierce a gap and strike in one shot.

“Then let me go!” Lohengrin roared, swinging his sword. Since Rihanna had to maintain the breach, the strongest fighter needed to charge in.

“Isaac, I’m counting on you.”

“Right.”

“I should—!”

“You lose to Isaac every day!” Sharen snapped. Loengrin’s lips clamped shut; a vein throbbed on his forehead in mute protest.

“With that frail, non-Helmut body, you’ll sprint forty paces and die on the spot! Idiots!” he shot back.

“…He’s not wrong,” Isaac admitted. Even running was taxing right now; Hellic stood roughly forty strides away. Under normal circumstances it would be nothing—but now? Impossible.

Just then—

“I’ll help!” Sharen cried.

Crimson aura condensed in her palm, far paler than the others—less a blaze, more a gentle warmth. On any other day she’d have been scolded for such a feeble showing, an embarrassment to Helmut.

But Isaac’s eyes widened. A memory of the Grandmaster surfaced:

‘Isn’t it fascinating? The very force so many revere, reduced to a child’s plaything.’

Young and short on reserves though she was, Sharen could wield her aura her own way.

Crimson aura had always existed for destruction, yet Sharen had learned to shape it for support.

Rihanna noticed as well and nodded. “Open it. Get ready.”

Vwoooom—

Gripping her great-sword in both hands, Rihanna drew it far back. The coiled power engulfed the entire blade; she swept upward, tracing a crimson diagonal.

Red Love Strike.

.

The strike that once split a river now cleaved the sky instead. Amid a world stained red, a stark white corridor snapped into view.

The path was open.

At that exact moment Sharen’s supportive aura formed under Isaac’s heels and along his back, winding him up to spring forward—

“Got some wit after all, haven’t you?” Hellic sneered.

Hellic’s laugh rang out—brazen and mocking.

As though expecting it, a snake-shaped stream of crimson aura lunged from behind Isaac, jaws gaping for the nape of his neck …

But—

“Grahhh! I’ll take it instead—!”

Claa-ang!

Lohengrin hurled himself in the way, the serpent clamping onto him instead. He hit the ground and was dragged along, still howling in outrage.

“I’m doing this—for that guy—?!”

Thoom!

Isaac shot forward—every inch of crimson energy in the air now bent to aid him.

Hellic’s form filled his vision in an instant, and Isaac’s saber screeched as it left its sheath.

“Too slow!”

Claaang!

The sword that had formed atop Hellic’s staff slapped Isaac’s blade aside, flinging it skyward.

Yet Isaac never stopped. Crouching, he slid beneath the staff and streaked past Hellic’s flank.

Before the man could reset his stance, Isaac was already behind him, carving in.

­­—Skreeech!

He slammed a foot against the ground, grinding to a halt. His waist twisted; right foot slid forward for balance, left foot pinned the floor—

a single whirl that placed him in perfect striking posture.

“I told you,” he murmured.

“You—!”

“Your swordsmanship flunks.”

Helmut warriors favor raw power, swinging along the line where strength flows best.

Rihanna had surpassed that, which was why she had beaten Isaac in their bouts.

Hellic had not. He was an imitator—and imitation, no matter how perfect, remains imitation. There is no evolution.

A second saber flashed free—blood finally spurted from the man.

Wild crimson eyes, posture shattered. Isaac had aimed for the throat, but the blade only cut halfway; an unseen force denied it any deeper. Some kind of spell.

“Ghhh—!”

Hellic clutched the pouring wound, staggering backward.

“Not yet—!”

The crimson aura dispersed. He seemed to abandon the borrowed power of the Helmut, drawing instead on his own Primitive strength

Isaac’s fingertip rose, pointing.

At Hellic’s chest, space warped into a twisting vortex. Time allotted to him had run out.

Veins bulged beneath Hellic’s skin as he roared, voice ragged:

“Isaac—I will remember you! Ahh, I already long for our next meeting!”

“Hah… hah… Just get lost.”

“I will kill you. I swear it.”

The curse-laden hatred lingered in Isaac’s ears long after Hellic vanished.

His legs gave way; he dropped to his knees.

From afar the Helmut siblings sprinted over. Rihanna caught him as he pitched forward, patting his back.

“You did well, Isaac.”

“Yeah…”

Victory. They had survived.

Yet he could not stop the tears that welled in his eyes.

“Um… so what do we do now?” Sharen asked—the very question Isaac had wondered from the moment he swung his blade.

Hellic was defeated, cast back to his original world.

But the Malidan barrier still had not returned. Hellic’s presence here had been a side-effect of the spell’s cost.

The ritual was still in effect.

“Si-Silverna—”

Clutched against her chest, Isaac wept.

In the end, he had failed to protect everything.

Sensing his despair, Rihanna only tightened her embrace.

The northern wall was gone.

With no barrier to shelter them, an icy wind stabbed straight into their hearts.

Battles against the Transcendents were always like this:

Even in victory, there were no triumphant shouts—only tears for the fallen.

***

Before they knew it, the defenders had been pushed back to the citadel’s inner district.

The deeper they withdrew, the sterner their defenses became, yet every breath now rasped at the throat.

The end felt close—undeniably so.

What became of Father?’

’The world outside lay frozen solid.

As if exhaling its final breath, the Malidan barrier spewed a death-cold chill that turned everything to ice.

Peer through a window now, and beneath the dark sky you saw only white steam drifting like clouds.

Uldiran Caldias had marched out alone, vowing to block the citadel gate.

He had gone by himself; no one knew what had happened since.

Yet with Transcendents still flooding in, Silverna could guess her father’s fate all too easily.

They had holed up in a tavern—unplanned, but it was one of the few places inside the walls large enough to hold everyone.

“A-a miss… they’ll find this spot any minute…”

Anna, gaunt from hunger, could barely grip her spear.

She was not alone.

The once-stalwart soldiers of Malidan could not even recall their last proper meal.

No army, no matter how skilled, could fight on an empty stomach; they were dying by inches.

Voices of Transcendents echoed in the corridor—they were hunting the last soldiers.

“Here! The scent’s coming from here!”

Their shout struck Silverna like a death sentence.

“Ready for battle.”

She gripped her spear.

Forged newly of Frostsilver Ore, its edge was already blunted from endless clashes—hardly fit for her final stand.

She stood before the door and closed her eyes.

One man’s face floated up.

‘We couldn’t hold on.’

‘You’re surely still searching for us… but we couldn’t last until you arrived.’

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A doubt whispered—had she simply… given up? Had she failed?

Yet the question no longer mattered.

She had failed to endure—she accepted that.

“Sorry, Isaac.”

If there were a next time—another life, or another chance—

She hoped it would go to Isaac, not her.

‘Because if you tried again, you would not fail.’

That was the man she knew: even if he faltered now, he would succeed when given another chance.

‘Foolish thoughts.’

Catching herself spinning useless hypotheticals, Silverna gave a weary laugh.

So this is what it feels like to die.

‘If you ever reach this place, you’ll find me with my eyes closed…’

For that moment, then—

“I’ll die beautifully.”

Boom! Crack! KWA-ANG!

A commotion burst outside.

Someone who couldn’t get inside the tavern seemed to be battling Transcendents.

Normally, they should stay barricaded, but—

“We’re going out! Leave no one behind!”

Already dead in spirit, Silverna chose an honorable death, and the northern warriors agreed.

Clank!

She flung the door wide and stepped into the frigid hall.

Over the bodies of Transcendents—

“Ah.”

There stood the woman called the Bloody Rose, a great sword in hand: Rihanna.

“You actually did it,” Rihanna murmured softly.

Silverna gaped, stunned—

And then—

Whump!

Someone barreled past Rihanna and wrapped her in a fierce hug.

A familiar feel, a familiar warmth—yet rough skin under battered armor.

“Silverna—!” he whispered, voice trembling with held-back tears.

Tears slid from Silverna’s own eyes.

“Ah…”

She had wanted to see him—yearned to see him clearly—so she turned her head just enough to take him in.

There, filthy beyond words, Isaac Logan held her tight.

Yet his bedraggled state was not pathetic; it was proof—plain and raw—of everything he had endured to reach her.

“A-Isaac—”

“I finally… finally found you.”

“Isaac, Isaac…!”

She spoke his name again and again without realizing.

“Yes. It’s me, Silverna.”

As if he would never let her go, he crushed her to his chest and said:

“I came to save you.”

Her heart crumbled.

The tears she had held back for so long flowed down her cheeks—but they never reached the floor.

They merely soaked into Isaac’s shoulder.

– – The End of The Chapter ––

[TL: This… This is so beautiful 😭😭😭

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