Gathering Wives with a System

Chapter 185: A Battle Between Superhumans, Conqueror Candidate

“I’ll teach you one thing,” he said, giving the blades a spin. “Times have changed, kid.”

Then he moved.

It wasn’t teleportation, but it looked like one.

One moment he was standing still, and the next he was inches from Isaac, daggers already aimed for the neck.

Isaac stepped back just enough.

His sword moved faster than most could track, coated in its white aura.

One clean arc forced the old man to twist away.

Their feet scraped across cracked pavement.

Isaac followed, slashing with calm, practiced movements.

The old man flipped backward, then disappeared entirely.

But Isaac didn’t panic.

He used his skill.

[Sovereign of Land.]

Through the earth, he could feel vibrations—small, subtle patterns that most would miss. His breath slowed. Then—

There.

A presence skimming just above the surface. It was running so fast that it was barely touching the ground.

Isaac slammed his foot down.

The pavement cracked, and roots exploded upward, chasing the air itself. They lashed out , and caught something mid-run.

The old man flickered back into view, a root wrapped around his ankle.

His hand moved like a blur, slicing through it with a dagger, but the delay was enough.

Isaac was already above him.

He brought his sword down.

The old man rolled to the side, barely avoiding a strike that cracked the ground open. The white aura left a glowing line in the concrete.

The assassin grinned.

“So you can fight using your Talent? I never thought I would see a Farmer like this.”

Isaac didn’t respond. He

lunged forward again.

Their blades clashed—dagger against sword, sparks flying with each hit.

The old man weaved in and out of Isaac’s reach, always aiming for soft points. His footwork was perfect, leaving no wasted steps.

But Isaac’s movements were cleaner, sharper, and stronger.

And more than that—

Isaac was learning.

His Mind Echo title helped him observer the old man’s movements, and he used that to improve his own posture, and fighting stance.

He caught the man’s wrist mid-slash and drove a knee into his ribs.

The impact launched the assassin through the side of a nearby building.

Concrete exploded.

Isaac stepped through the dust, sword ready, just as the old man emerged from the wreckage with a grin.

“This is surprising. Why are you not using Aura?” he said, brushing off rubble. “Don’t tell you actually aren’t a reincarnator?”

There were several stages to Aura.

First was: [Aura]

Using this, one could improve their physical abilities tremendously.

Second was: [Weapon Aura]

Now, the awakener could extend the Aura from their body and coat their weapon in it. It increased the destructive potential of the weapon by several times.

Sword Aura, Aura Spear, and Aura Arrows were types of Weapon Aura.

Third was: [Elemental Weapon Aura]

This was a realm only one in ten Weaponmasters (people who could use Weapon Aura) could reach.

Normally, everyone learned Aura, then Weapon Aura, and finally Elemental Weapon Aura.

Isaac wasn’t using Aura, only Sword Aura.

This could only be possible if he had suddenly gained an enlightenment and unlocked Sword Aura.

In others words, he was a genius.

He was not a Reincarnator.

“If you aren’t a reincarnator, I guess I can kill you,” the old man Rael muttered.

He held up one hand. A low hum followed. Then the ground shook.

Isaac’s eyes widened slightly.

A nearby two-story building began to rise into the air.

It lifted off its foundation like it weighed nothing, floating several meters in the air.

The windows shattered under the pressure, and dust poured from the seams.

“Telekinesis,” Isaac muttered.

The old man grinned. “Correct.”

He hurled the entire structure at Isaac.

Isaac didn’t back away.

He dropped his stance and stabbed his sword into the ground.

Roots burst upward again, thicker this time. They wrapped around the building mid-air, stopping it cold.

The building groaned under the pressure, crumbling bit by bit. Then the roots twisted, and crushed it completely.

Bricks and beams exploded in every direction as Isaac stepped through the debris, sword once again in his hand.

“What?” The old man was surprised. “How can you stop that—”

Isaac was already upon him, slashing his blade.

The old man dodged, and jumped backwards.

Before Isaac could approach him, he punched the ground.

A pulse of force shot out, cracking the street wide open.

Jagged pieces of asphalt rose like a wave, and the man used them like steps—jumping between floating chunks of road, gaining height fast.

Isaac followed with a burst of speed.

They met mid-air.

Their blades crashed again—and again—faster than before.

Isaac twisted to avoid a slash, slammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s side, and kicked off a chunk of road.

The assassin countered by grabbing a floating slab of concrete with his mind and swinging it at Isaac like a bat.

Isaac ducked, then slashed upward. The

sword aura split the concrete into dust.

They landed hard on opposite sides of the broken street.

The old man spat blood.

“Alright, I’ll admit. You’re better than I thought.”

The man exhaled sharply, then ran forward again.

He didn’t bother going invisible this time.

Instead, he moved faster, so fast that the air behind him cracked.

His daggers became blurs.

One slashed for Isaac’s side, the other aimed at his throat.

Isaac caught one with the edge of his sword and turned just enough to let the other glance off his shoulder.

His Extreme Formlock title protected his body.

He countered with a series of clean cuts, each designed to force the old man to retreat or block.

But the assassin didn’t give ground.

He moved in tighter, ducked under the blade, and slammed a palm into Isaac’s chest.

Isaac staggered slightly.

Then his sword arm moved.

The slash came upward.

It nicked the old man’s cheek and passed over his head. But it was enough to force distance.

“You’re holding back something,” the assassin muttered, breathing a little heavier now.

Isaac remained silent.

The assassin stared at him for a long moment, then chuckled.

“I suppose I should apologize for calling you a reincarnator. It’s clear you learned Sword Aura through your natural talent, seeing as how you can’t use Aura and—”

The assassin about to speak when suddenly his expression changed.

It became serious.

He looked into the distance.

’Seems like Alice took care of the other assassin,’ Isaac thought.

“I don’t have time. So I’ll be leaving now,” the old man said seriously.

This time, a whole row of abandoned vehicles lifted into the air behind him.

The man pushed his hands forward, hurling them all at once.

Isaac swung.

The Sword Aura stretched, extended beyond the blade in a long arc.

Every car was sliced in two before reaching him.

The man closed the distance through the smoke, ducking between falling pieces of metal, daggers flashing again.

Isaac met him head-on.

Their clash sent shockwaves down the ruined street.

The ground cratered under their feet.

A slash from the old man left a gash on Isaac’s chest, then he kicked him hard enough to knock him through another wall.

Isaac twisted mid-fall, used the side of the building to rebound, and came flying back.

His sword cleaved downward, forcing the assassin to block with both blades. One broke instantly. The other bent.

The strike drove the man into the cracked pavement.

He hit the ground hard, knees buckling, body trembling slightly as he coughed dust and air.

Isaac landed softly. His sword still pulsed with white energy. It gave off a low hum that seemed to settle into the silence of the shattered street.

The assassin looked up.

He was breathing harder now, sweat on his brow and coat torn in several places.

But strangely, his gaze wasn’t focused on Isaac.

His eyes were turned to the side—past the debris, past the broken street—toward the area where Alice and Shen were still fighting.

He was worried.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t want to use this.”

Before Isaac could ask what he meant, the assassin’s Aura surged.

His Aura exploded outward.

The shift was instant.

His strength spiked to a completely different level. The broken dagger in his hand glowed faintly, and then—suddenly—it wasn’t broken anymore.

Isaac’s eyes widened.

The blade didn’t clash against his sword. It phased through it, clean and unblocked, moving for his neck in one smooth motion.

’Shit.’

He tried to lean back, but he could already tell he wouldn’t make it in time.

His only option was to shift the angle, let the blade graze instead of pierce, and immediately prepare to heal the artery.

But just before the blade touched skin, it stopped.

It was held in place between two fingers.

Professor Catherine stood beside Isaac.

Her posture was relaxed.

She was holding the assassin’s blade like it was no more dangerous than a pencil.

Her thumb and index finger didn’t even shake.

Isaac blinked, surprised. He hadn’t sensed her arrival.

She turned her head slightly toward him.

“You fought nicely,” she said her tone appreciative instead of the usual teasing edge it carried. “Now, go back home. And write a report on how you could’ve improved. That’s your homework for today.”

“…Huh?”

“I’ll handle it from here.”

Isaac hesitated, not because he didn’t respect her strength, but because something in him still wanted to finish what he started.

“I can finish the battle myself, Professor. I don’t need help to beat him.”

Professor Catherine’s gaze didn’t waver, but her words shifted slightly.

“Isaac, you’ve got bigger problems right now.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll need to pay for the damages Alice caused when she attacked those assassins.”

Just like that, the remaining adrenaline in Isaac’s system seemed to drain out. His shoulders sank a little.

Of course, how could he forget about that.

He wasn’t mad at Alice. She’d done what she had to. She had acted to protect him without hesitation.

But, it still hurt knowing the cost was going to be astronomical.

That was when the old man finally spoke again.

“Evil Sword? Why is a Conqueror Candidate like you protecting him—”

“Alright. That’s enough,” Catherine said, cutting him off.

Her heel slammed into the old man’s chest before he could finish the sentence.

The sound cracked the air as his body flew backward at high speed, breaking the sound barrier on impact.

He crashed through several buildings, each one shattering louder than the last.

Isaac didn’t say anything at first.

He stared at the wreckage, then turned to Professor Catherine.

“What was he trying to say?”

“Hmm? What are you talking about? I didn’t hear anything.” She tilted her head, feigning innocence.

Her smile stayed on her lips, but the message was clear: she wasn’t going to explain.

Isaac stared at her for a moment longer, then let it go. He didn’t need to be told twice when someone wasn’t going to answer.

But the words stayed in his head.

’Evil Sword? Conqueror Candidate?’

It was hard not to think about them.

He’d already figured out that the world had many hidden things.

It had Hell, Gods, Reincarnators, Lord Cities, Bizarre monsters, a System that gave power to people.

And moments like these reminded him that the gap between what he knew and what he needed to know was still massive.

There were too many things hidden behind the surface.

Professor Catherine’s voice brought him back.

“I’ll take care of the assassins,” she said, “and the person who sent them.”

Isaac looked at her, uncertain.

“Just go back. Alice is waiting for you.”

Isaac smiled faintly, hearing that.

She hadn’t said Alice was worried about him. Just that she was waiting. The difference mattered.

It meant Alice had been confident he’d come back in one piece.

He went to meet Alice before they left the Mirror World.

Immediately, Alice approached him, held his hands and began to check him.

“…I’m sorry,” she said, seeing his injuries.

“Why are you sorry? Don’t worry about money. It quite literally grows on trees for me—”

“I shouldn’t have provoked the assassins without knowing their strength.”

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