Sword Expert.
If Tom were a true Sword Expert, he wouldn’t have batted an eye even if ten Divine Beasts had swarmed him, let alone three. These were sacred creatures born of the love of the Seven Chief Gods, the Nine Goddesses, and the Kings of the Spirit Realm. While these holy beasts—having evolved differently from the Beastfolk—possessed formidable power, they could never hope to match the strength of a Sword Expert. In truth, it went beyond mere comparison; they shouldn’t have been able to leave so much as a scratch on a Sword Expert’s body.
“…….”
A Sword Expert’s armor was an impenetrable fortress, impervious to the claws or fangs of such beasts. Even the depths of the ocean would pose no restriction to a true master. While a Dragon, the Master of the Firmament, might prove a challenge, a complete Sword Expert would eventually be able to sever even a Dragon’s neck. That was the true nature of a 「Sword Expert」.
“Young Master.”
But.
Tom was not a complete Sword Expert.
“Swim the other way and escape.”
Long ago, the old caretaker had reached a realm close to the pinnacle of the Sword. But the moment he ascended to that height, he realized the truth. He realized he would never see the end of the path in his lifetime. He realized he could climb no further. He realized the armor he forged would never be complete.
“This old man will buy you some time.”
The reason was simple.
Tom knew himself well.
And because he knew himself so well…
“If someone must live, shouldn’t it be a young man like you?”
He knew.
He knew he could never become the kind of human the armor demanded.
* * *
I looked at Tom.
Flailing in the sea, barely keeping himself afloat, Tom painfully drew his sword. The wounds he had sustained while fighting the Sword Expert on the Southern Continent had not yet healed. Furthermore, because he had repeatedly forced himself into battle while injured, his body was now utterly broken.
I was certain of it.
If left like this, Tom would die here.
My old friend would vanish.
Just like my kind neighbor who had departed before me.
“Dragon!”
A cracked, worn, metallic rasp.
The old man’s voice rang out.
The rapier he held aloft sparkled like a jewel.
“Master of the Firmament—!”
Bathed in light, Tom struggled through the surging currents. A Gryphon dove toward him. Behind it, red-hot feathers trailed through the air. A Phoenix. The blazing bird that could incinerate entire cities was approaching. Faced with two Divine Beasts of legend—creatures that lived only in the songs of bards—the old man did not retreat. Instead, he simply thrust his sword forward.
【……!】
With a sound like a thunderclap, a sword as fast as a lightning bolt lashed out. A streak of white light was etched into the air, and the Gryphon’s body exploded with a sharp pop . Its lion-like torso and eagle head were severed, spraying crimson blood into the brine. The Phoenix, flying just beyond the spray of blood, scattered and shattered, only to resurrect itself further away. One Divine Beast was dead, and the other had fled. It happened in an instant.
【A human clad in armor.】
【A dangerous human guards the Descendant of Steel.】
【……Why?】
Tom breathed heavily.
Amidst the rolling thunder, a faint armor flickered over Tom’s body. The armor enveloping his aged frame was different from those I had seen in the past. Dwarf General Dwight’s armor had been like a fortress. The armor of Edan Rhapsody, the second son of House Rhapsody, had been like an ocean that nothing could cut. But Tom’s armor?
‘……It’s half-baked.’
Tom’s armor was full of gaps. It left his chest exposed, his flanks were bare, and it didn’t even look particularly well-fitted. It looked like something forged by a blacksmith who was still clumsy at his craft. It didn’t look like it could protect his body at all.
「Half-baked armor is meaningless.」
“…….”
「Loose armor loses its hardness.」
Gasping for breath, Tom opened his mouth and roared. As the old man’s cry shook the sea, the Kraken and the Phoenix—the two remaining Divine Beasts—flinched.
「That old man was never destined to hold a sword.」
While the Divine Beasts remained frozen, an arrogant creature, undaunted by Tom’s momentum, slowly lowered its head. As the Master of the Sky flapped its wings, the sea began to churn.
“Flightless human.”
The churning seawater soon became a massive wave that crashed down upon Tom. The moment the water touched him, it froze instantly. It was the Mystery of the spirits—a display of pure natural violence that only a Dragon, beloved by all elements, could command. However, Tom, who had been swept away by the wave, soon shook his body, took a deep breath, and cast off the ice that was entombing him. It was the mystical power of the armor, the exclusive domain of a Sword Expert—the Authority of Invulnerability that repels all harm.
“Why do you struggle so?”
But Tom’s armor was not complete.
He had cast off the ice, but not all of it. The parts of his body his armor did not protect were frozen blue. Through Tom’s fluttering clothes, I could see his wrinkled skin turning the color of death.
“Why do you seek to oppose the heavens?”
The Dragon didn’t care about the armor that had manifested on Tom. It simply poured out natural violence once again with effortless ease. With every flap of its wings, the sea became the Dragon’s weapon. The infinite seawater boiled, then froze, then boiled and froze again. The Dragon did not hide its arrogance, acting like a young boy who had picked up an ant to play with. It was a terrifying sight.
A boy playing with an ant can crush it to death at any moment if his mood sours. To my eyes, the relationship between that Dragon and us was no different. The moment the Dragon lost interest, we would die. Whether it froze this entire sea, annihilated the oxygen that fueled our swords, or unleashed a breath from its maw that incinerated everything—the moment that Dragon brought out a truly ‘powerful’ weapon, we would vanish from this world.
“……Dragons…… haven’t changed a bit.”
There was no way Tom was unaware of that overwhelming gap.
Yet, the old man did not bow his head.
“I…… hate your kind.”
Instead, he held his face high, meeting the gaze of the Dragon in the sky. The old man’s eyes were cloudy yet bright. Those shining eyes sparkled clearly as they reflected the arrogant pupils looking down from above. Very clearly indeed.
“I really, truly hate you all.”
Tom’s eyes held complex emotions.
I had felt it before, but it was clear that Tom had a bitter history intertwined with ‘Dragons.’ I couldn’t know his story, and it was hard to ask. But I could tell for certain that the emotions Tom harbored toward Dragons were anything but ordinary.
『That thing is a magnificent monster, the likes of which I’ve never seen in my life.』
As Tom’s eyes blazed, I heard it once again—the Voice of the Sword.
『But I have to kill it.』
The voice of the sword sounded like a boy, then like a young man. At one moment, it felt like the voice of a middle-aged man, and in the next, it sounded like a combination of all three at once. Surprisingly, a strange sense of familiarity rose within that voice. As it echoed incessantly in my head, I soon realized why I felt that ‘familiarity.’
『Still, isn’t it a relief?』
At the final moment, the Voice of the Sword became that of an old man.
“Still, isn’t it a relief?”
And a voice exactly like it was heard in reality.
Simultaneously.
『It’s better than struggling to kill the stars.』
“It’s better than struggling to kill the stars.”
The two voices merged.
Only then did I realize. The voice that had been echoing from the sword was Tom’s. To be precise, it was the voice of Tom from the days when he was not an old caretaker, but a young warrior. It was the voice of the old man in the twilight of his life, the young boy he once was, the young man in his prime, and the middle-aged man he had become. Listening to the voice echoing from the blade, I looked at Tom.
「This is surprising.」
“…….”
「A very, very rare case indeed.」
To my eyes, Tom now looked different.
「A soul that has spent its entire life chasing a single thing.」
“…….”
「A phenomenon that can only be seen in a few of those souls—a truly rare few.」
Tom and the sword appeared as one.
It didn’t look like Tom was holding the sword; it looked like the sword was holding Tom. No, they weren’t holding each other. Tom and the sword didn’t need to. Because the two were one.
「That old man’s soul already dwells within the sword.」
* * *
Tom thought to himself.
You hateful Dragon, you are determined to end this old man’s life. Just as you ruined me when I was young and small, you intend to take even the end of my life, spent struggling as I aged.
Again, Tom thought.
Perhaps you have the right. Was it not you who allowed Tom, the young boy who should have vanished, to live this long? Was it not you who made the ember that should have long since gone out burn so brightly? It might not be a bad death. It might be much more stylish than aging away and dying lonely in a Hall of Fame that no one visits.
Or.
Perhaps it would be better to be swallowed by this sea. No one will see my corpse, eyes closed in ugly old age. An unwitnessed death will be beautified. Haven’t I seen it enough in the Arena? Death is not beautiful. A severed neck, the staring eyes of a fallen head, and a protruding tongue are not beautiful…….
“Come.”
At the very least, the Dragon was a much weaker enemy than those Tom had fought until now. Solitude, neglect, distrust, doubt, and time. Until he reached this old age, Tom had fought against time and the world. His youth and brilliance had vanished, his face was wrinkled, his arms and legs had grown thin, and his back had bent.
How long had he been fighting?
No one believed that there was a soul in a sword. No one listened when he said that souls dwell in blades, that their memories dwell there, and that their will dwells there. No one recognized that a piece of old iron was a glory of the distant past, the clearest trace left by those who once existed. They didn’t even try to understand. So, he would sometimes grab a passerby and launch into a passionate speech. Then the passersby would give a few formal reactions before openly showing their boredom and clicking their tongues. Their gazes were sharper than any blade, pierced deeper than any arrow, and were like the most painful of flames.
The most agonizing thing was the blade within his own heart.
Am I right? Is my choice, and the path I walk, correct? Is what I believe in truly at the end of the path I walk? He had agonized over this countless times. Long years and solitude, a faith that could not be proven, and yet a lingering attachment he could not cast off. The old man, who had lived his life falling and rising again to reach this point, would face his foe once more.
“Come quickly.”
Compared to time and the world, you are not frightening at all.
“I will face you this time as well, without flinching.”
And…….
“To this old man—”
Light erupted.
“—?!”
The burst of light soon took on a human form. A man with a loyal impression. A man so upright and stubborn he seemed like the word ‘Knight’ brought to life. While Tom froze momentarily at this sudden situation, the man’s firm hand gripped Tom’s shoulder.
“You are…….”
Tom felt the touch and spoke without realizing it. But before he could ask anything, Tom’s mouth snapped shut. Tom knew this knight. He had never seen or heard of him, but he knew. Because Tom had seen this knight’s soul before. To be precise…….
“Ah.”
He knew this knight’s sword.
“Ah, ah.”
Without resisting the knight’s touch, Tom stared blankly at the bursts of light pouring out around him. The light that erupted from Arhan soon became countless people. Tom had never seen any of them, but he knew them. Because he had seen their lives. Because he had seen their swords.
‘Young Master.’
Once, the old man had heard the unfamiliar name ‘Caravan.’ It was a small boy who had told him the story tied to that name, and that small boy had once performed a modest sword dance under the night sky. The boy dancing under the moonlight had become a gypsy, an assassin, a knight, an orc with wildness in his heart, and a lamp that lit the world.
The old man was now facing those unfading lives he had once seen with his own eyes. The dream he had chased and dreamed of his entire life, but of which he had only seen fragments. That dream was unfolding in reality at this moment, brought forth by the boy who had proven his faith.
‘I’ve said it before, but you probably don’t know, Young Master.’
The vast sea.
Two Divine Beasts.
The Dragon still glaring down.
The souls of the Sword appearing across time.
The youth and the old man.
‘How grateful I am.’
The man, now too old to chase romance and dreams, met the dream he had chased his entire life as he reached the twilight of his years.
‘How hotly you make my heart beat.’
Until a moment ago, he thought he would be willing to die.
He thought this death was better than dying of old age.
‘How much you make me want to live.’
But it was no longer so.
‘Why do you keep giving this old man dreams, Young Master?’
He wanted to live longer.
He wanted to cling to the world for even a moment more.
So that he could watch the world you would create.
So that he could be a small decoration in a part of the dream you would one day show.
‘Why do you keep giving this old man greed…….’
There was a boy.
There were hazy clouds.
“Elder, I like the twilight.”
There was a sword that had departed.
There were the heroes he had envisioned in his dreams.
“Because I thought it was beautiful how, before the day ends and the dark night arrives, the entire continent is dyed in vermilion. It’s like us humans, trying to leave our traces before our brilliant youth ends and dark death approaches.”
And.
“Your twilight has not ended.”
There was the old man and the sea.
“So dream, to your heart’s content.”
