The moniker “Sewing Gypsy” traveled far. It reached a point where several renowned guilds approached me first, asking if I had any interest in joining them.
Once I grew accustomed to the life of a mercenary, I began to take pride in my skills.
I thought I was famous not just because I was a female mercenary wielding a peculiar sword, but because I was a warrior who could truly hold her own.
That was a foolish delusion.
The world was wider than I knew.
Monsters were everywhere.
I first learned this lesson thanks to a certain man.
He was a knight of the Red Hawk, stationed in the Steel City Ferma in the eastern part of the Iron Kingdom.
I don’t remember his name, but I can never forget his sword.
“So, you’re the one they call the Gypsy.”
My swordsmanship had evolved through my life as a mercenary, and I had long since surpassed the skills of my master, Hegel. Because of that, I carried a bit of arrogance.
Since I had surpassed Hegel—a wandering knight from the Free City—I harbored the conceited belief that I had become strong enough to easily defeat a knight in a duel.
“You are nothing but a lowly mercenary, you soot-stained girl.”
My Needle shattered helplessly against true steel.
Covered in dust, the knight grabbed me by the hair as I slumped to the ground and spoke.
“If you weren’t a woman, you would have died here. Give your thanks to the Red Hawk. The Red Hawk never takes the lives of women or children.”
His words were true.
The only reason I kept my life that day was my gender.
There was an insurmountable wall between a wandering knight and a real one.
Hegel was a traveler who held a sword, a human struggling just to survive.
But the man from the Red Hawk… how should I put it?
To be honest, he didn’t seem human.
He felt like a tool forged from steel.
Perhaps all those of the “knight” ilk are like that.
At the very least, every knight I encountered during my mercenary days was a monster.
Monsters who seemed to live in a different world.
It was only much later that I learned their realm was called “Sword Walker.”
*
In the face of a killing intent that felt like it would blow my mind away, the memories of the swordswoman Mary flashed like lightning. Judging by the memories etched into the sword, Mary was a far more seasoned and superior warrior than I am now.
Yet even she had suffered a hollow defeat against a true knight.
At this moment, my heart pounded violently.
It beat so hard I feared it might actually burst.
My breath grew ragged, and my vision blurred strangely.
A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears.
Along with it, a throbbing resonance started in my chest and sent tremors through my entire body.
Amidst this extreme tension, the colors of the world took on a strange blue tint. Simultaneously, I felt a sense of fullness, not just in my stomach, but throughout my entire being. If I could feel the very movement of blood flowing through my muscles, would it feel like this?
A piercing sensation, as if being pricked by needles all over my body, tapped against my skin.
At the same time, I saw a shimmering blue aura surrounding the unfamiliar man.
That aura spread out in all directions; some lines were straight, while others wound in curves. They looked like roads laid out in a developed city. I knew instinctively.
Those were the “Paths.”
In a state of concentration bordering on a trance, Liam’s voice echoed like a phantom.
「I thought you were born with such a wretched body that you had zero talent for martial arts, but it turns out you possess an extraordinary talent in a different direction.」
I had no time to focus on his words now.
I gripped the Needle tight and watched the man’s every move.
He remained still, standing there, watching me.
「Unceasing doubt. A sensitivity bordering on disease… These are flaws if one lives as a mortal, but for those who grip a sword, they are a very rare talent.」
The sword the man had drawn was a longsword. A long, sharp, two-handed blade.
Unlike me, he maintained a stable posture, ready to swing his sword at any moment. He was the polar opposite of me; I held my sword with one hand in a distorted stance, ready to thrust my first attack as quickly as possible.
“Why were you watching me? Answer me plainly.”
I began my “Doubt” while maintaining maximum focus.
“…I was trying to discern whether you were a guest or an uninvited guest.”
Even as I spoke to maintain the conversation, I did not let my tension drop. If the rhythm of his breathing changed, I had to doubt it. I had to doubt the twitch of the toe muscles visible through his boots, doubt the angle at which his shoulders and wrists moved, and doubt the movement of his pupils every single second.
That was my most powerful weapon.
Just as Master had said.
*
“…I was trying to discern whether you were a guest or an uninvited guest.”
A guest, or an uninvited guest?
At those unexpected words, the man, Petel, frowned as he looked at the boy.
He had known for a while that the boy was observing him. The boy was skilled at hiding his traces, much like a seasoned forest ranger, but even so, the “Paths” stretching out in all directions had signaled the boy’s presence.
“That is hard to understand. Be more specific.”
The only reason he had left the boy alone was that he felt no need to approach him. Petel had come to this village seeking a place without people, and he had been living contentedly in this quiet hamlet.
Though it wasn’t complete solitude, he could tolerate the presence of a single boy.
He hadn’t wanted trouble in the first place.
He liked this silence.
But approaching this closely was a different matter.
Petel focused his gaze and examined the boy.
‘A wretched body. At a glance, one might mistake him for a girl. But he isn’t entirely untrained. There are traces of having endured harsh training for at least four years. Did he attend an academy?’
Even his way of speaking carried the dignity characteristic of the nobility.
Was he the offspring of some noble family? Perhaps the son of a fallen house.
Due to the struggle for the throne among the princes of the Iron Kingdom, countless nobles had lost their titles and castles, driven to the outskirts. It was common for such exiled nobles to live quietly in the fringes.
‘He holds a sword, but he won’t be a threat. His balance is there, but his posture is unstable. A style that pours everything into the first strike. Is it a swordsmanship designed to overcome physical deficiencies? It’s a half-baked sword that would only work against untrained barbarians. At best, he seems to be at the level of a Sword Beginner.’
Petel’s judgment was swift and concise.
Soon, the boy spoke.
“I was originally a resident who lived here. However, I went to an outer city for a short while on business, and when I returned, the villagers had vanished like smoke. I don’t know if an epidemic broke out, or if a wicked black mage used magic to offer them as sacrifices to demons.”
“…”
“At first, I was afraid and tried to leave, but I stayed because I have memories of this precious village. Foolishly, I couldn’t let go of my lingering attachments.”
Foolishly, I couldn’t let go of my lingering attachments.
At those words, Petel’s hand flinched.
The circumstances that brought Petel to this remote village were quite similar.
“But I don’t know what kind of rumors spread, because barbarians and boys from the slums invaded this rural village and caused an uproar. They threatened my life and insulted my deceased parents. I dealt with those uninvited guests with my own hands, and so, I needed to discern whether you were also an uninvited guest or a guest visiting to stay in this village for a while.”
“…You needed to discern, you say.”
“But you looked excessively strong. So I hovered nearby and observed you for a while. Since you didn’t seem like someone who would threaten my life, I approached like this to confirm whether you were an uninvited guest or someone who could be a good neighbor. Do you understand now?”
The boy’s explanation was easy to follow.
Petel withdrew his killing intent slightly.
But he did not withdraw it completely.
“I accept that.”
Because…
“Since I’ve heard your story, I believe it’s now my turn to tell mine. To become neighbors, we must explain our respective situations to each other.”
“…”
“So, lower the sword you are pointing at me. If you throw that peculiarly shaped blade on the ground, I will also withdraw my sword and begin my story.”
It was because the boy was still pointing that long, thin blade at him.
And it was radiating an aura sharp enough that it couldn’t be ignored.
A brief silence followed before the boy opened his mouth.
“I cannot do that.”
“What is the reason? You must feel that whether you hold a sword or not, you are no match for me.”
“I do feel it. That is why I can’t lower it even more.”
The boy’s gaze was as sharp as a blade.
“I cannot fully trust you yet. Couldn’t you swing the sword you’re holding at me at any moment? If so, I need this blade to provide at least a minimum of defense.”
“…It’s a wretched blade, no better than a needle. It makes no difference whether you have it or not.”
“If it makes no difference, then you withdraw your sword first. Doubt is a habit of mine.”
Ha. Petel let out a laugh despite himself.
“For a knight to be the first to withdraw his sword when both parties have drawn their weapons goes against his honor. I must protect my honor.”
“I, too, can no longer throw away my sword, because I don’t want to back down anymore.”
The moment he heard the boy’s voice, the smile vanished from Petel’s lips.
The boy’s eyes as he spoke were burning as fiercely as the sun.
“Giving up… before even fighting… because I’m lost in fear… is something I never want to do again.”
Petel read the flames in the boy’s eyes.
Flames that would never be extinguished by his logic or half-hearted killing intent.
At the same time, Petel was inwardly impressed.
Just what kind of experiences had this tiny boy gone through to carry such fire in his eyes?
‘Half-measures won’t work.’
Petel spoke no more.
Since he didn’t want to talk while they were at a standoff with swords drawn, he intended to use force—even if a bit roughly—to send the sword in the boy’s hand flying.
He planned to disarm him without causing harm.
That was the best measure he could take as a knight who followed honor.
‘An unbalanced posture, one-handed swordsmanship, a thin sword. A slight touch will probably snap that sword in half.’
To a swordsman, a sword is not a mere tool; it holds a deeper meaning. Thus, Petel did not want to damage the small boy’s needle-like blade, but seeing the boy’s resolve, he felt there was no other way.
Having finished his thought, Petel slowly raised the longsword in his hand.
With that, he took a faint breath, and the mana in the air began to permeate and circulate through his body. The mana accepted by his body soon filled the “Paths” stretching across Petel’s entire being.
In the next moment, Petel became a superhuman.
And then.
“…?”
Something unbelievable happened.
“What…!”
Sparks flew.
The sword Petel had swung horizontally bounced back in the opposite direction.
What had it collided with to be repelled? The moment he rolled his eyes, Petel saw the long, thin blade. A fragile-looking sword that resembled a needle.
That sword had neither broken nor had its edge damaged. It was impossible.
Petel’s pupils shook.
The boy’s figure reflected in his trembling eyes wavered.
The boy was in a unique posture, as if performing an acrobatic act. While holding that preparatory stance, he took an excessively deep breath. The sound of his whoo-ha was clearly audible.
And every time the boy breathed, the blue auras hovering around him surged as if trembling. It meant the flow of mana was undulating.
From just a single breath of a mere Sword Beginner.
Petel doubted his own eyes.
In his vision, he could clearly see a blue light located on the left side of the boy’s narrow chest.
There sat the heart.
A Mana Heart, the symbol of a Sword Beginner.
The shape of that small Mana Heart, looking as if it had just been formed, was strange. It was a shape Petel had never seen in his life. It wasn’t the usual soft and flexible form, but a shape that was astonishingly solid.
The boy’s heart was… how should I put it?
It was like steel.
‘No, it’s not just strange. That is—’
Something that wouldn’t even be scratched, no matter what it collided with.
Steel.
‘…It is something special.’
And so,
The Mana Heart of Caravan, forgotten for hundreds of years, was resurrected.
