The Great Master's Sudden Return
"Hey, Isaac."
"Hm?"
The battlefield dragged on for another two days. By the time Black Hand had lost all will and manpower to resist, Sharen sidled up to him, glancing sideways before asking.
"Wanna smoke?"
"Hm?"
Her question came out of nowhere. Sharen wrinkled her nose and pinched it shut.
"I was gonna crash in your tent for a bit, but this godawful tobacco stench hit me, so I bailed."
"……."
Sharen's words sparked several retorts in Isaac's mind. First off, why was she skipping her own tent to lounge in his? But that could wait—lower priority.
"Tobacco smell?"
"Yeah! Super nasty one. Were you like, puff… 'this is life after divorce' or whatever?"
"Where'd you even learn that?"
"Heard the knights talking about it. Seen it up north a bunch."
"……."
The north had plenty of smokers, sure.
"It was way harsher than northern stuff, though. Caught me off guard. Helmont noses are sharp, y'know."
Though she'd lost Galeniya, Sharen was coping well enough. Isaac had worried she'd regress to her old innocent self, but seeing her push forward brought a quiet satisfaction.
"I don't smoke."
"Huh? Then who lit up in your tent?"
"……."
Harsh tobacco? A suspicion flickered. Isaac started walking anyway.
No way.
His mind dismissed it as impossible, yet a wriggling excitement stirred in his chest. Before long, he reached the tent—and a faint, potent tobacco scent wafted into his nose.
[This is life, is it not?]
The Great Master's voice echoed in memory, laughing as she said it. Isaac had smoked once himself and knew firsthand how vicious her blend was. Spouting such corny lines while exhaling smoke, her face had beamed innocently. She didn't relish the words themselves—she savored the reactions they provoked.
"Ugh! Stinks!"
"Stay here, Sharen."
Leaving the trailing Sharen behind, Isaac ducked inside. As a Helmont now, he'd been given a fancy private tent. There stood a black-haired woman with a pipe clenched in her teeth.
Perked-up wolf ears. A massive greatsword slung over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as a blade's edge, holding the gleam of moonlight. A fluffy tail curved behind her back.
Master…!
The word nearly slipped out. Joy surged, matched only by his shock at this reunion. Why was the Great Master—supposed to be in the rocky mountains—here, of all places, in his tent?
"Fuu."
The Great Master silently puffed out smoke, then eyed Isaac.
"Good thing the red cub stayed out, thanks to the stench."
The meaning was clear: if Sharen had entered, she'd have died. No one but Isaac was meant to see her.
"Who are you?"
"Think of this master as a noble guest. One deeply interested in thy sword."
Pipe in mouth, she slammed her greatsword's tip into the ground. Sharing sword styles seemed explanation enough for her.
"Much I'd ask, but time presses—can't cover it all."
"……."
"Saw thy duel well. Rumors of thee shattering Helmont swordplay? No lies there."
She'd witnessed his bout with Roengreen. Isaac couldn't help a swell of pride. Recognition from the Great Master, after all.
"Fuu. Came to recruit thee at first. Wilt thou walk our path with us?"
"Recruit?"
Was she part of some group now? Isaac knew little of her at this point in time. He wanted details, but—
"Yet first, a question burns."
Her gaze chilled as she asked.
"Who is thy master?"
Isaac almost blurted it out. He clamped his mouth shut just in time; she nodded, sensing his reluctance.
"Asked for thy master seemed familiar to me—"
Twitch.
Her wolf ears quivered.
In that instant—
Kaaang!
Both drew their blades simultaneously. Had her ears not twitched first, Isaac would've been caught flat-footed.
"……!"
The Great Master looked more startled. She'd never expected her own Quick Draw parried with identical technique.
"What was that?!"
Isaac demanded, flustered. She replied with sorrowful eyes.
"No harm intended. Meant to halt at thy nape."
"……."
"A lead on lost comrades… 'tis thee. Tell me—who is thy master?"
This side of the Great Master was new; Isaac reeled.
Comrades?
Even in his past life, she'd never spoken of her history. No one asked, and she never volunteered.
"Thought all gone. But thy sword proves a fellow disciple."
This must be why she trained pupils—and why she shunned her past.
"I yearn to see my comrades."
Her near-pleading request darkened Isaac's expression, clouding it further.
Damn…
His chest ached, a deep throb.
Unable to say the sword you taught me, he was fostering false hope.
Should I tell her?
She'd accept it, surely. As Isaac pondered—
"A beast arrives."
Her eyes flashed; she leaped back. The tent flap tore cleanly in half, revealing overcast skies and fierce winds.
Splitting Isaac and the Great Master: a colossal greatsword. Arandel Helmont's.
"Thou knowest petty tricks."
Greatsword on his shoulder, Arandel blocked Isaac's path, glaring at the Great Master. She chuckled dryly, sheathing her blade.
"I know thy misunderstanding, but this master hath no ties to Black Hand's transcendents."
The commotion drew knights. Sharen, right outside, rushed to Isaac's side in alarm.
"Y-you okay?!"
"This is…"
Dangerous.
The Great Master screamed transcendent—hybrid, technically, but her blood ran thicker than Jonathan's, wolf ears and tail clear markers. And they were at war with transcendents.
Sheltering her could brand them traitors.
"Father! She's no enemy!"
Isaac ignored the peril. He stepped forward urgently; Arandel's eyes twitched.
"Ho?"
The Great Master watched Isaac with intrigued eyes. He'd hoped she'd flee in the chaos, but she stood firm and declared:
"I'll take him."
"Wait—!"
Convinced Isaac held clues to her fellow disciples, the Great Master wouldn't yield—even before Arandel.
Her desperation was plain, but matching it demanded resolve.
"Not yet—."
Arandel advanced past Isaac. His greatsword thrust between them; crimson eyes gleamed faintly.
"This one's Helmont."
Refusing to surrender Isaac—her lips twisted upward.
Kaaaaang!
Faster than her strike on Isaac earlier—manyfold. The blade whipped out so swift even Isaac missed it.
"Hrrgh…."
A gash marred Arandel's shoulder. Yet the Great Master's face darkened.
"Witless fool."
She'd aimed to sever the arm entire. Landing a mere cut drew her tsk.
The line was crossed. No longer Isaac's mess to fix.
"A worthwhile foe at last."
Blood-red Red Aura erupted from Arandel, overwhelming force and mass dominating the area. His fury, once aimed at armies, now fixed on one woman.
"Tch."
The Great Master clicked her tongue at the aura.
"Such brute ways."
Her words belied tension; she gripped her greatsword two-handed, hunting an opening. But she knew it wouldn't be easy—especially against him.
In his past life, the Great Master called Arandel a suppressant force crushing even transcendents. Mockery or not, she respected him.
A brutal fight loomed, but Isaac struggled to envision Arandel losing one-on-one with the blade.
Arandel's greatsword raged. "Swung" didn't fit; his Red Aura-laden strike stormed forth like a tempest—grander, vaster than any on Black Hand's field.
"……!"
Yet defying physics, a long red line slashed the crimson gale clean top to bottom.
The Great Master slipped through the gap.
[Aura? Dost thou jest? At the pinnacle, such trifles are needless.]
Literally true. Unlike Isaac borrowing Bricalra's mana to pierce aura, she cleaved Arandel's with pure sword—shocking for Helmont knights who revered aura extremes.
Arandel didn't falter. As if anticipated, he clashed blades with the incoming Great Master.
Kwaang!
Explosive airburst rang out; their exchange pushed toward each sword's tip.
