Request for Support
Just watching Arandel clash with Black Hand—the Great Master—taught Isaac a wealth of lessons. It wasn't merely swordsmanship; he absorbed insights into battling multiple foes, wielding a greatsword, breathing techniques, and deliberately prolonging footwork. Each swing of Arandel's blade was like shaking a massive fruit-laden tree, showering Isaac with inspirations and realizations.
But now, that great tree was shaking violently. Caught in a storm far too fierce, a torrent of knowledge tangled chaotically in his mind. He had been steadily stacking it all away, yet he knew he couldn't let this continue.
Boom!
As the massive cleaver came slashing down from above like a guillotine, Arandel didn't dodge—he countered. There was no way he'd be overpowered in raw strength. And the Great Master knew that too, yet she fought exactly as her enemy desired for one reason alone.
'Victory isn't the goal.'
What she truly sought wasn't triumph, but Isaac. More precisely, the Isaac who knew about her old comrades. The tragedy was that it was all a misunderstanding.
The cleaver and greatsword collided in a whirlwind. No first-rate knight, no noble royal, would be permitted anywhere near them. The crowd retreated from the two warriors locked in ferocious combat. Get too close, and you'd be shredded before you could even resist. That place where the pinnacles of aura and swordsmanship clashed was a realm where the wind itself whipped like razor blades.
"Isaac, we need to get out of here!"
Sharen urgently yanked Isaac's arm. He'd been so entranced by the duel that he'd forgotten even to blink.
"You'll die if you stay!"
The moment Isaac was forced back by sheer power.
"Where do you think you're going!"
The Great Master's eyes flashed. She lightly stepped on the swinging greatsword and launched herself past Arandel straight toward Isaac.
"H-Hong Yeom Pa!"
Crimson-red Red Aura shot forward swiftly. Though launched from her palm, its power was feeble. Even so, coldly speaking, it wouldn't have fared better from a greatsword.
"How cute~!"
Of course, Sharen's Crimson Flame Wave was neatly bisected. Startled, Sharen trembled but gripped Isaac's hand even tighter.
At that instant, Isaac shoved Sharen away and drew his cleaver. One wrong move, and the Great Master might kill her. He had to prevent that disaster.
Quick Draw.
'Swing with killing intent!'
He knew she wouldn't die anyway. If he could just make her hesitate even a little, that would be enough.
"Impressive."
His Quick Draw toward the Great Master sliced only empty air. By then, she'd circled above his head, seized him from behind, and—
Boom!
—slammed his nape into the ground.
'She twisted her body mid-air with a sword swing!'
Using the downdraft of her downward slash to leap again in a contortion that bordered on the miraculous.
"Urk!"
"I'm sorry for roughing up a fellow master's disciple, but know that I'm just as desperate."
"Isaac!"
Sharen rushed toward him in panic, but he thrust out a hand to stop her.
"Don't come closer!"
It's fine. He knew he wouldn't die. But Sharen was different. Anyone else approaching would be killed on the spot.
"Let me explain—!"
Suddenly, the earth glowed red. The ground quaked as if an earthquake had struck, and the Great Master's ears twitched alertly. Crimson light erupted like spewing lava, scattering dirt clods that briefly obscured vision.
Yet the Great Master didn't release her grip on Isaac.
"Sharen! Catch!"
Silberna's voice rang out from afar, and a spear flew straight, slicing between Isaac and the Great Master. The white aura within it burst outward even after leaving its owner, forcibly widening the gap.
"I-I got him! I caught him!"
Sharen snatched Isaac as he bounced upward. She beamed with relief at his safety, but his gaze remained fixed on the Great Master.
"At this point, it's magic, not swords."
The Great Master emerged unscathed from the surging Red Aura, brushing off dirt and glaring at Arandel, who stood before her once more.
"……."
Arandel silently raised his greatsword high. No more dragging this out—Red Aura swirled, condensing into the blade. From his hands came an absolute strike to shatter, rend, incinerate, and crumble.
Meng Hong Geuk—Annihilating Crimson Strike.
The sword that could be called Helmont's pinnacle extended from Arandel's grasp once more. At the same instant, the Great Master swung her cleaver with both hands, eyes flashing.
A slash that dyed the world red. Within it, a sharp crescent moon curved into view.
Wol Seom—Moon Flash.
The devouring force met the severing blade in an explosion of massive dust clouds that blanketed sight, only to vanish in a breath.
In this brief clash, victory was clear.
"Hah, unbelievable."
The Great Master knelt on one knee, her cleaver stabbed into the earth as she caught her breath. Parts of her clothing were torn, her pale skin smeared with blood. In contrast, Arandel stood firm on both legs. He bore wounds too, but the outcome was unequivocal. Her Moon Flash hadn't pierced his Annihilating Crimson Strike.
Yet considering no one in this Black Hand fight had drawn Arandel's blood before, inflicting wounds and drawing it now showcased the Great Master's prowess.
"Y-Yeah, that's Dad for you!"
"Incredible."
Sharen and Silberna marveled at Isaac's sides. The others waved hands, cheering Arandel's victory.
"Cough!"
Then, from Arandel's tightly shut mouth poured dark red blood. It cascaded down his chin, splattering long across the ground. His massive frame shuddered. He jammed his greatsword into the earth to barely stay upright.
"Father?!"
"He lost? Arandel?"
Amid the crowd thinking victory had flipped, only Isaac and the Great Master grasped the truth.
"So that's why you wanted a quick finish."
The Great Master had sensed Arandel's poor condition. His hidden chronic illness had reset the fight's tide.
As all eyes fixed on Arandel, Isaac alone watched the Great Master. Master. Amid the throng, their gazes locked perfectly.
Too far for words, yet upon reading Isaac's eyes, the Great Master's widened slowly.
'You've always had sharp instincts.'
Whether from her transcendent hybrid blood or innate nature, who could say. She rose slowly, sheathed her cleaver, steadied her breath, and retreated soundlessly.
"Chase her!"
At Roengreen's shout, Helmont knights pursued desperately. But even a wounded wolf outruns humans. With Arandel immobile, she'd escape cleanly.
'The problem is……'
Arandel Helmont's face had turned ashen visibly.
* * *
"……A chronic illness."
Princess Clarice sighed in frustration upon hearing Arandel's plight. The tent brimmed with gloom. Exposing his hidden condition—and the kingdom's sword being so precarious—was grave, but...
"Black Hand suppression is right around the corner……."
Only their grand mansion remained. Likely swarming with transcendents inside. Arandel's absence bred an eerie unease. They'd resist with everything, making it the fiercest battle yet.
'That's why just one hour.'
Clarice nodded, arms crossed, fingers tapping. He'd hidden his illness to fight only an hour. The puzzle fit, but brought no joy. She also yearned to show Isaac more real combat, but hadn't reached that point.
Anyway.
"We should assault Black Hand tomorrow immediately."
The nobles agreed with the princess, now reluctantly in command. Delay, and transcendents might unleash something bizarre—or learn of Arandel's injury. No giving cornered rats an out.
"It'll be over quick anyway."
"Won't even take an hour."
"The tide's overwhelmingly in our favor. No need to worry."
Clarice nodded at the staff's bold claims. It was overwhelmingly advantageous.
But.
'Why does it feel so ominous?'
Clarice trusted her gut. The nobles' fervent assurances only deepened the foreboding.
"Tomorrow, who'll command the vanguard—?"
"Princess."
Roengreen, seated in Arandel's stead, thumped his chest confidently.
"Leave it to me."
"……."
The princess thought: I need a plan.
* * *
"That's why I came to you, Isaac."
"……."
Isaac wore an awkward expression as the princess visited his tent. He wasn't oblivious to her overt dismissal of Roengreen.
'He has zero trust from her.'
Roengreen seemed little more than Helmont trash in her eyes.
"Please. Join the mansion assault tomorrow."
"Of course."
He'd only observed from the rear per Arandel's orders till now. With Arandel out, the moment to draw his sword in real battle thrilled him faintly. Plus, he wanted to keep his promise to Pollu from the North with his own hands.
Clarice's face lit up at his reply.
"Thank you! My anxiety's easing. I'll tell Silberna, so you two look out for each other tomorrow."
She left. Silberna, also held back, would welcome it.
"Hmmm."
Alone, Isaac pulled out a worn book. He skimmed the margins, then clicked his tongue.
'Not enough.'
He took another blank one. The Silent Sword's pen filled the pages steadily yet swiftly with today's awe-inspiring, majestic swordplay from both sides. First, unpack it all in writing, then distill what he could absorb or apply.
Merely ten minutes of clash, yet his book brimmed densely.
"Hmm, marvelous."
A woman's voice from behind. Isaac, who usually lost the world in focus, had been outdone by her stealth. She'd slipped past the knights unnoticed.
"……!"
Whirling, he found the Great Master peeking over his shoulder, chin in hand.
"Such detail. It's embarrassing."
"You sneak in like this at night—why fight so openly in daylight?"
"Tch, how could a woman enter a man's bedchamber at night?"
"……."
"Ahem, Arandel would've noticed instantly. He's off the front for treatment now, right?"
How'd she know that top secret? Isaac didn't ask.
"You watched me so intently in secret, so you must have words for this master. I too have tales I wish to hear."
"Are your wounds alright?"
Expecting her, he'd prepared bandages and antiseptic.
"Far from it."
She didn't refuse. Proof of how severe Arandel's damage was. Her crude leaf poultices looked like they'd worsen it.
As he treated the visible injuries, Isaac said,
"Tomorrow's the Black Hand extermination."
"Mm? I know. But don't misunderstand—I'm truly not affiliated with those—"
"Help us."
"……Pardon?"
"I need your help."
The Great Master twitched her ears, confirming she'd heard right.