Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Silent One's Devotion
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An afternoon under the blazing sun.
“Hah, haah!”
The knight, drenched in sweat, did not stop swinging his sword.
“Are you still out here doing this?”
A fellow knight approached, clicking his tongue.
“Take it easy. What will you do if you collapse?”
“I’m fine.”
The knight grinned, his teeth flashing white as he guzzled down the lukewarm water from a bucket.
“I can handle a little heat like this. It’s nothing compared to those barbarians.”
“You’re really something else. Fine. How could I possibly change that stubborn mind of yours? Well, keep at it. Just don’t overdo it.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
Even after his colleague left, the knight continued to swing his sword without rest, honing his swordsmanship.
The sight of the knight silently swinging his sword looked almost sublime, like a practitioner walking the solitary path of the martial way.
The sweltering summer passed, and autumn arrived with its cool breezes.
*Swish, swoosh!*
The knight remained devoted to his training, still swinging his sword.
“Heh heh! Swing that thing for a thousand years. You think that’ll improve your pathetic talent?”
“Just give up your knighthood and go back to your hometown to farm!”
“Tsk, tsk. So foolish for someone with no talent.”
His colleagues tossed out jeers as they passed by.
The knight didn't even flinch at their mocking ridicule.
His eyes were fixed only on the tip of his sword, his ears heard only its sound, and his mouth knew only how to let out a sharp cry.
Time flowed on, and winter came.
Even on days when fierce blizzards raged without cease, the knight never skipped his training.
Snow piled high on his well-developed shoulders, but he did nothing but swing his sword.
And so, he silently swung his sword for thirty long years.
Despite his poor physique and talent that was next to none, the knight never missed a single day of training.
Then one day.
“Uwaaah!”
“Gah!”
“H-help me!”
“Retreat! Retreat at once… Argh!”
A massive force of barbarians crossed the border and surged into Decaron like a tidal wave.
The walls crumbled, buildings burned, and desperate screams and shrieks echoed everywhere.
“None who invade this land shall be forgiven.”
The knight plunged into the heart of the barbarian horde without a moment's hesitation, unleashing the swordsmanship he had trained for a lifetime.
“Keoheok!”
“Gak!”
Before the knight’s blade, the barbarian warriors fell like autumn leaves in the wind.
A single slash.
And a single thrust.
The simple sword art the knight had trained for thirty years had reached a level sufficient to sweep away the barbarian warriors.
Thus, the knight became the hero who defended Decaron from the barbarian invasion.
Most of the colleagues who had mocked him were dead, and those who survived owed him their lives.
Immediately after the barbarian army retreated.
The knight headed to the ruined training grounds.
And once again, he swung his sword.
“Friend, please, stop.”
“What kind of training is this for a body in your state? Do you think you’re still in the prime of your youth?”
His colleagues tried to stop him, but it was no use.
Even in his battered state, the knight replied with a gentle smile.
“How can one who holds a sword let it leave his hand for even a single day? I will do nothing but train until the day I close my eyes.”
Three years later.
Though he groaned from the lingering effects of his injuries, the knight never, ever skipped his training.
And that day was the knight’s last.
“I will do nothing but train.”
With those parting words, the knight began his training, demonstrated the thrust and slash he had spent a lifetime perfecting, and closed his eyes while still on his feet.
The hero who had insisted on a life of ascetic training, who had overcome his natural limitations through sheer effort and left behind a great achievement, closed his eyes for the last time.
***
The scene before his eyes changed.
*Ting!*
[Notification: You have read the Lingering Will.]
[Notification: You can absorb the Lingering Will.]
Carlyle instinctively realized that the trace the knight had left in this world was his relentless persistence and obsession with effort.
It was not an effort made in hopes of a reward.
If he had sought a reward, he never could have so foolishly honed himself for decades.
He had simply striven his entire life to fulfill his duty as a knight.
And that foolish effort became a great strength in defending Decaron from the barbarians, bearing fruit by allowing him to surpass his innate limits and reach a high state of mastery.
Then, what if he absorbed the trace he left in this world?
His spirit, which remained here at the site of the old training grounds?
“…Noble spirit of a knight.”
The words left Carlyle’s lips before he knew it.
“I shall inherit your will. Dwell within my sword.”
Soon, the knight’s footprints scattered across the training grounds began to glow brightly, then gathered one by one toward Carlyle’s sword.
*Swoooosh!*
Carlyle’s sword shone with a brilliant light.
*Ting!*
Presently, a status window appeared.
[Notification: You have absorbed the Lingering Will!]
[Notification: You have acquired the skill !]
[Notification: You have acquired the skill !]
[Notification: You have acquired the skill !]
The skills acquired through the knight’s spirit were as follows.
[The Silent One's Devotion]
Skill Level: 1
Effect: While training, the effect of an unshakable mind is activated, allowing you to enter a state of no-mind and focus solely on swinging the sword.
It felt like having a nagging tooth finally pulled.
He had been struggling with his uncooperative body as it was…
[Heartpiercer]
The ultimate thrust.
A sword art imbued with the will to pierce even the enemy's soul.
Skill Level: 1
[Worldcleaver]
The ultimate slash.
A sword art imbued with the will to cleave the world.
Skill Level: 1
The knight’s swordsmanship consisted of just two simple moves: a thrust and a slash.
Yet their perfection was superior to any other sword art.
As a sword is a weapon meant for thrusting and slashing, these were techniques that were faithful to the very basics.
Just like the knight’s life…
‘Ah.’
Carlyle realized how to use the knight’s abilities.
“I will do nothing but train.”
The knight’s last words flowed from Carlyle’s lips—the command to activate the power of the Soul Soother Sword.
[Notification: The skill has been activated.]
He slowly swung his sword.
Soon, all distracting thoughts vanished, and the lethargy that had shackled his body was washed away.
*Swish, swoosh!*
*Whoosh!*
Carlyle’s sword cut through the air, beginning to execute the swordsmanship of the Sigmund family.
***
‘The Young Master must be feeling frustrated as well.’
Maranello thought to himself as he waited for Carlyle.
‘It makes sense. After so many years of a dissolute life, his body must have grown accustomed to idleness.’
From long experience, Maranello understood that rehabilitation was by no means an easy process.
To the elderly gentleman, effort was less a matter of talent and more a matter of habit.
Even a diligent person, once they let go of their will, would find it difficult to return to their former self.
‘He needs to build the habit of trying, even if it’s just a little at a time…’
He waited for Carlyle like this for several hours.
In the distance, the bright dawn was breaking.
The night had already passed into morning.
“Young Master?”
When Carlyle didn’t appear even as the sun rose, Maranello worried something had happened and headed to the training grounds.
And there, Maranello witnessed a sight he simply could not believe.
*Swish, swoosh!*
Carlyle was swinging his sword.
Seeing him drenched in sweat, it was clear he had been training all night.
‘Finally, the Young Master is training properly…’
Just as a gentle smile graced Maranello’s lips.
“N-no!”
Maranello’s eyes filled with an astonishment that bordered on disbelief.
*Flash!*
Carlyle’s thrust shot out like a beam of light.
Maranello recognized at a glance that the thrust was utterly perfect, at a high level of mastery.
Others might not have been able to tell, but to the eyes of a master like Maranello, that thrust was simply flawless.
And that wasn't all.
*Chwaaa!*
Carlyle’s sword cut through the air, leaving a silver afterimage.
“…Absurd.”
After seeing the perfect slash that followed the perfect thrust, Maranello was left completely dumbfounded.
The [Heartpiercer] thrust and [Worldcleaver] slash, which the nameless knight had honed over a lifetime, were just that perfect.
A simple, unrefined sword art.
Yet it was the most delicate and precise thrust and slash in the world.
That was the great masterpiece the knight had created over his lifetime.
Of course, Maranello couldn't have known this in his wildest dreams…
‘The Young Master was hiding his skills. He must have been acting the part of a scoundrel.’
Seeing Carlyle train, Maranello concluded that his suspicions had been correct.
He had been uncertain until now, but seeing him train gave him a clear answer.
The thrust and slash Carlyle was now demonstrating were not something that could be perfected in a day or two.
Even a genius would find it impossible to master that thrust and slash in a short period.
Thus, Maranello could only conclude that Carlyle had been hiding his skills, that he had in fact been undergoing bone-grinding training away from the eyes of others.
“Young Master.”
“…”
“Young Master?”
“…”
Maranello approached and spoke to him, but Carlyle did not answer.
“Ho ho.”
Realizing that Carlyle was now training in a state of self-annihilation, Maranello let out a hollow laugh.
“How could someone this skilled put on such an act…”
Why had someone who could immerse himself in training to this degree thrown such a tantrum about not being able to do it?
Why had he pretended he couldn't even run a single kilometer when he could swing a sword all night, collapsing to the ground?
And on top of that, why did he have to act the part of a scoundrel while being scorned by everyone?
Carlyle’s bizarre behavior surely wasn’t just because he wanted to avoid trouble.
‘What on earth are you hiding, Young Master?’
Just as Maranello was lost in thought.
*Thud.* Carlyle collapsed.
“Young Master!”
Startled, Maranello rushed toward him.
“Young Master, Young Master!”
“…”
Carlyle, drenched in sweat, did not open his eyes.
“Hah.”
Maranello checked Carlyle’s pulse and realized he had collapsed from exhaustion.
He had been so focused on training all night that he hadn’t even noticed his stamina running out and had simply collapsed.
It was a level of concentration an ordinary person couldn't even dream of.
‘I do not know what secrets you are hiding, Young Master, but this old man will protect you, no matter what.’
Maranello, having thoroughly misunderstood that Carlyle had some grave, unspoken circumstances, lifted him effortlessly into his arms.