“What do you think is the very first lesson in the way of the sword?”
My Master had asked me this out of the blue one day.
“Is it forming a Mana Heart?”
「No.」
“Is it building physical strength?”
「That is also not it.」
“Then, is it the method of never letting go of the sword?”
In response to my Master’s question, I listed everything I considered to be the basics of the ‘sword.’ However, he shook his head at every one of my answers.
「You are entirely wrong, young descendant.」
I couldn’t understand his response.
The answers I had provided were all things he had constantly emphasized as the basics of the sword, and they were the very first things I had learned. Yet, he said they were all wrong.
Then what was the answer?
「The answers you gave are indeed the first things I taught you. It is admirable that you remember them all, young descendant.」
“Yes, I remember everything. But why do you say the answer isn’t among them?”
「Because the answers you offered are all fundamentally wrong.」
There was a contradiction in my Master’s words. If they were truly what he had taught me, how could they all be wrong?
The answer was actually quite simple.
「I have never taught you the first step of the sword.」
Because he had never taught it to me.
“What does that mean…?”
「Young descendant, I have no intention of ever teaching you the first step of the sword.」
“Why is that?”
To this young disciple’s question, my Master spoke again.
「The first thing taught in the way of the sword is the art of falling.」
“…”
「Not just with the sword, but in all martial arts, the art of falling is taught before anything else.」
The art of falling.
「In every martial art where one tempers oneself, the first lesson is how to fall correctly. Do you know why?」
How to fall well. Come to think of it, my Master had never once mentioned how to fall.
「It is because only when you know how to fall correctly can you strike back and stand up properly.」
“…”
「The root of martial arts lies in being unyielding. It is having the will to stand up and challenge again even after falling. It is not viewing defeat as total failure, but as nourishment for the next challenge. It is treating defeat as a part of training and using it as a stepping stone. That is martial arts, and that is the sword, young descendant.」
“…”
「Then think again, young descendant. Why do you think this Master of yours did not teach you how to fall? Furthermore, why did I say I would never teach it to you in the future?」
Falling meant defeat. My Master had not taught me how to stand back up after defeat.
「You must not learn through defeat. You must not become accustomed to it.」
“…”
「You must treat a single defeat as a single death. Be furious at your defeated self. Loathe yourself, hate yourself, feel your helplessness to its core, and obsess over victory to a sickening degree.」
“…”
「You must not be defeated, young descendant. Never let go of this thought.」
I didn’t take up the sword for something like self-discipline. From the moment I decided to hold a sword, my purpose had always been the same.
「Only then will you be able to achieve your goal.」
Revenge.
*
Fighters of different races were entangled in combat.
“You insects! You came here to represent your races and bask in glory! Yet you cower in the corners of the forest because you fear death! Goddess Lefri, the guardian of justice, will mock you! Do you, who tremble so with fear, truly have the right to call yourselves fighters?”
An orc’s vicious axe split a tree.
Red blood splattered. Screams, roars, groans—the clamor of weapons clashing followed every kind of voice. It was the sound of the battlefield.
“You inferior orc bastards! Do you think this is still the Age of War? Must a fighter always stake their life in a duel? Not everyone is like you! We, too, would close our eyes in satisfaction if we met death at the end of a defeat after pouring out our all. But if we leave like that, what happens to those we are responsible for? What becomes of the families waiting for me at home, and those who look to me for help?”
“Those are all just excuses!”
“Excuses! Goddess Lefri loves glorious fighters. But what about the orphans in the slums who live day to day on alms? What about my son, who was just born and can’t even open his eyes properly? Who will take care of my elderly mother, who is too frail to live without nursing? The Nine Goddesses and the Seven Chief Gods grant us sacred words, but they do not look after the weak who need help right now!”
Race clashed against race. Intelligent beings who had lived entirely different lives collided.
“If Goddess Lefri hates me for it, then let her. If I lack the right to call myself a fighter, I will gladly give up the title. I will cling to life and take on the lowliest of tasks. Rather than ending my life in a brief, heated duel, I will live a long, dishonorable life.”
“…”
“I cannot leave this world early while leaving behind those I must protect. Unlike you orcs, where the entire tribe takes responsibility for one another even in a vain death, humans are not like that. Even if we live right next door, we don’t look out for each other; we dig into any weakness we see. So, as a persistent and selfish human, I must live longer, you inferior orc.”
Conviction clashed against conviction.
“I respect that sentiment. However, the duel must continue.”
“You’re a madman.”
“That’s what they’ve said ever since orcs first appeared on the continent.”
Axe and sword collided.
“Damn it, my joints are aching like hell. If I move any more, I’ll be suffering for a hundred years.”
“Let’s just call it a day and head back to the World Tree. It’s hard to keep my head straight with this filthy smell of sweat.”
“Ho ho, there’s no need for us refined elves to get tangled up in that fight.”
The elves, fearing injury, grew timid and withdrew.
“I wonder when I should step in to make a stylish finale.”
“I’m waiting for the moment I can unleash the most magnificent hell.”
The demons, obsessed with ‘looking the part,’ had no desire to jump into a dogfight. The Nobles of the Night, who valued dignity more than life itself, were a race originally called madmen just as often as the orcs.
“Protect the fortress!”
“You sons of bitches!”
“Those beasts keep trying to squeeze in over there!”
The dwarves were busy huddling together to hold their ground.
The beastmen prowled the battlefield, hunting those who had grown the weakest. They followed the 「Path of Blood」 that only they could see. The scene unfolding in this pitch-black forest was perfectly suited to the term 「Racial Duel.」 It was a scene like a play, yet chaotic, revealing the characteristics of each race. The continuous combat involving so many powerful beings was a grand spectacle.
“Why on earth are you invading and tearing everything up when you’re in the most advantageous position! Do you hate a duel that flows smoothly that much? You green lumps!”
“That’s because you were all just testing each other and doing boring things! Gwahahaha! We thought things would get interesting if we gave you a little push! Puhehehel!”
The battle was loud yet balanced. The traits of the six races stood out as they fought without retreating, utilizing their respective weapons. The melee looked as if it might last forever. A precarious balance had been established. If it stayed this way, it seemed it would never end.
And then.
“…Hm?”
That balance was broken without warning.
“Was the wind in the forest always this fierce?”
A gale blew across the battlefield.
*
『The dawn of that day was a deep, bruised blue.』
『The faces of the legion that came to the Labyrinth City all looked blue, as if they had swallowed the dawn.』
The Ronin’s memory was as calm as flowing water.
『They were more numerous than ants swarming over breadcrumbs.』
『It was impossible for me to achieve an overwhelming victory against them.』
『They were different from a swarm of ants.』
『They were faithful soldiers who had a purpose to fight for, who had endured grueling training, and who followed systematic commands.』
The environment surrounding the Ronin was not calm. But even as the noise of the fierce battlefield surged, his heart remained undisturbed.
『I have no right to judge them.』
『There is no absolute justice on the battlefield.』
『Everyone fights to protect their own version of justice.』
Strangely, within the sword’s memory, the Ronin wavered. He wavered like a shimmering mirage, like smoke rising from a fire lit by a village woman.
『I must not think that I am swinging my sword to cut them down.』
『It is impossible to cut down that vast legion with my insignificant blade.』
『Then, what must I do?』
For a brief moment, I became the Ronin.
The forest battlefield became a desolate plain. Behind me stretched the deep blue walls of the Labyrinth City. Inside a refined building within those walls, a modest woman was sleeping. A woman tossing and turning, fearing tomorrow and what might happen. Dorothy was there.
『I must sweep them away.』
『To sweep them away, I must become the wind.』
If I don’t do it, you will have to do it tomorrow. Pure as you are, you would weep in agony as you took people’s lives one by one. Your life would be ruined. You would no longer be able to laugh, you would no longer be able to enjoy the breeze with a light heart, and you would no longer be able to speak of the beauty of the dawn. I do not want that.
『So, I became the gale.』
My heart throbbed violently. It wasn’t just the heart supplying blood that was racing. My second heart leaped along with it. What the second heart, the 「Mana Heart,」 spread was not red blood, but transparent mana. It granted me the power of a superhuman, not through veins, but through the 「Path.」 That granted power circulated through my body. After repeated cycles, that power awakened into a new form.
“What is this—”
Mystery.
The mana went beyond circulating within the body and began to affect the world outside. The mana flowing in the atmosphere was twisted by a single individual. An artificial wind surged, and the darkness began to bend. I saw the 「Path」 with my eyes. Those paths were not clear. Because of the gale I swung, the 「Path」 was bent, blurred, and tangled in a complex web.
Only then could I vaguely understand the power contained within the gale.
『The gale that sweeps the world.』
Distortion.
The power of this sword was not simply the power to make the wind blow.
『The wind that can blow anything away.』
The power to make the wind blow. The power to twist and disorient every 「Path」 in existence. The power to destroy a perfect flow and sweep it away according to my will. A sword that, like a tornado blowing every summer, could blow everything away without leaving a trace.
“Whew.”
I took a breath. At the same time, I saw the flows prevalent around me.
The thrusting swords, the swinging axes, the flying arrows, the powerful magic mixed with elements, the charging orcs, the beastmen baring their teeth. All of it looked like winds blowing from different directions.
Toward the oncoming winds, I simply swung my sword.
Then, the wind gathered along the direction of my swing. The gathered wind soon spiraled around me. Colliding and pushing against each other, the whirlwind scattered outward.
“Ugh.”
“Wh-what the—”
The gathered forces clashed chaotically. A series of metallic clangs rang out, and without knowing why, the fighters were blown far away or lost their balance and fell.
I was the only one not swept away.
Because.
『The center of a whirlwind is naturally calm.』
I was the only one standing there on two feet.
“Ha, what a strange trick!”
An elf snorted.
“He didn’t handle the elements, nor did he use magic, yet he controlled the flow purely through Mystery. And in a form that resembles the natural wind, no less.”
“…”
“It’s a trick that only the warriors of the 「Great Land」 in the East would use. Ho ho.”
The elf laughed unpleasantly. Other elves nearby whispered.
“Elder, what just happened?”
“Something interesting happened. It seems you young elves had better not recklessly challenge that human. You might end up seriously injured.”
“Then, will you step in yourself, Elder…?”
“Ho ho, why should I? What if I hurt my joints? Didn’t I tell you before we came here? We old folks are here to make sure you gain experience of the outside world without losing your lives. There’s no reason for me to step forward first.”
While the elves’ interest was directed this way, I also felt the gaze of the demons.
“Wasn’t that just incredibly cool? It was a truly magnificent scene.”
“I feel like my spot as the protagonist was stolen. Should I play the villain instead? I’ve read in fantasy novels that sometimes the villain becomes more popular than the protagonist depending on how they appear.”
Their words were hard to ignore. But they didn’t step forward either.
“You’ll only embarrass yourselves if you step in. If you, who are mere Barons, step forward, it will only disgrace the demons’ reputation. So shut your mouths and stay put.”
Among the demons was a familiar face. The demon who had attacked Seol-yoon and me earlier. The demon with the unpleasant impression.
“Red Count Hartias is speaking. You lowly demons of lower rank than I, stay still. That human, strangely enough, harbors a hell in his head just as terrible as ours. So do not touch him. Are there not countless spectators watching? I will not allow you to damage the dignity of the ‘Nobles of the Night,’ you lowly lot.”
At that single word from the demon, the others froze.
What about the dwarves? Under Dwight’s command, they were subtly protecting me rather than attacking. Thus, it became a situation where the elves, demons, and dwarves were all refraining from touching me. My fellow humans even openly joined my side.
“I smell danger.”
As things turned out, the beastmen also retreated for the time being instead of stepping forward. Of all the seven races, they were the ones with the sharpest sixth sense for detecting crisis. Known for being able to see a glimpse of the near future, they weren’t about to make a foolish decision.
In the midst of that situation, I saw Dwight’s face. For some reason, he had a bitter expression.
Perhaps it was because of my actions.
Dwight was a strongman far more powerful than I. But as a strongman, he had shown me a weak side, while I, insignificantly weak, had shown strength. Dwight had retreated, fearing the threat of Swordmaster Carlos, which hadn’t even arrived yet. But I had stood my ground and fought head-on, not only against the thought of Swordmaster Carlos but also against the danger right before my eyes.
For a brief moment, Dwight’s position and mine were reversed. In that instant, he was the weak and I was the strong.
I had proven my unyielding will through my actions. I didn’t know how Dwight interpreted my behavior. I didn’t have the ability to read minds, and I didn’t know the way a dwarf thought.
But that didn’t matter. I was simply acting in my own way. I had decided that from the first moment I held a sword.
“…Pfft.”
And then.
“Pfft, puhehehehel!”
Amidst the subtle tension, a booming laughter rang out.
“I came here because I didn’t want to see this pathetic sight! And yet here you are again! You cowards!”
Thump. Heavy footsteps echoed.
With them, the darkness receded, and a green fighter with a massive build revealed himself. He wore a bright smile that showed off his sharp fangs.
“You!”
A race that didn’t care about tension or the situation. Madmen who would gladly fight with a smile even if the other five races teamed up against them. A race of madness that did not fear battle and was always hungry for it.
“You seem different from the other cowards!”
An orc.
“Human! I can tell by your eyes. You won’t avoid a struggle, will you? Your eyes resemble an orc’s!”
Furthermore, the orc approaching me wasn’t just any ‘average’ orc. The face of the orc speaking with flying spit was very familiar. In fact, there was no way I wouldn’t know him.
Because that orc was…
“This Orc Elder Behera desires to duel with you! Behera, the glorious King of the Orcs who drew Identification Tag 444, says so!”
He was the crazy bastard who had launched a wide-area provocation at the start of the racial duel.
“The brave Orc Behera does not avoid a struggle!”
Amidst the terrifying roar, I stared straight at Orc Elder Behera. Fortunately, unlike the fighters who couldn’t adapt to the orcs’ antics, I knew how to deal with their madness.
“Is that so? But why does the brave Orc Behera keep telling lies?”
“What did you say! Chwiik!”
“Are you truly the King of the Orcs?”
“Of course I am!”
Facing Orc Elder Behera, who spoke with such confidence, I reached into my shirt without hesitation. Then, I pulled out an identification tag. The Identification Tag 444 that proved I was the King of the human race.
At the sight of the glittering tag, every fighter there froze like ice. It was so sudden and unexpected. Everyone stopped as if the world had come to a standstill.
That’s right.
“Then pull out your tag like I did.”
Madness is meant to be met with madness.
