The Sword Saint Begins His Journey
Lahan stood amid the scattered items of his master Logan’s estate, the weight of memory settling heavy on his shoulders.
“Master told me to wield my strength for the sake of what is right.”
Right.
It sounded simple, yet the more he turned it over in his mind, the murkier it grew.
What was right, and what was wrong?
Lahan kept reasoning like a man chasing a single hidden truth.
And at last he reached his own conclusion.
“Right and wrong, in the end, are decided by me. By my own values. By the harmony of my thoughts and my heart.”
He set aside the last of Logan’s belongings and noticed a small token that served as proof of the old knight’s identity. He tucked it carefully together with Carlson’s token in his breast pocket.
Always, he had asked his masters in silence to watch over him from afar.
Lahan fastened the second sword Logan had left him to his waist with a tight cord. It made him look like any other swordsman who carried two blades. Yet he had no intention of touching the art of dual-wielding.
He knew all too well how difficult it was to master even a single blade. He had spent countless nights polishing one until his hands bled.
Just in case. No matter how far from dual-wielding I stand, these are the masters’ relics. I cannot let them go unused.
After that, Lahan trained himself alone without end.
Whether snow fell or spring bloomed or summer scorched the land, he never skipped a day with the blade.
In this vast world where swords, magic, and monsters truly existed, the only ones who could protect him were himself and the humble skill of this one sword.
He had already reached the level of a master swordsman, yet arrogance never took root. There might be others in the world as strong as his masters, after all.
Soon he would turn twenty, yet even now he felt he had not reached the tip of Logan’s blade. It was not merely about outward power.
Both my masters devoted their entire lives to the sword and kept pushing forward without rest. Carlson-sensei thought only of the mysteries of the blade until the day he died. Logan-sensei was the same. They were men worthy of the highest respect. And I… what about me?
Nothing.
What lay within him was like a fragile sand castle that would crumble at the slightest touch.
Logan-sensei called me a genius among geniuses, but I do not see myself that way. I am still far short. I cannot yet reach the lofty heights of my two masters.
Lahan pushed himself harder than ever. He would never allow pride to take hold, for pride was the path to death.
He had learned that lesson in the life before this one.
Logan-sensei never forced me to cross swords with him. He wanted me to complete my own blade as if the paper were blank and he refused to stain it. Why? What was the true reason?
While rain fell and snow piled up, Lahan never stopped swinging his sword. Only then did the answer come naturally.
“Real combat. Master wanted me to finish my own sword. He used the hollow pretense of sparring so that my real-life experience would not be misled. No matter how much a master loves his disciple, he would never point a blade stained with killing intent at his own student.”
That was only right. That was justice.
Parents had long cast away their children.
Yet a stranger took them up, cherished them as precious, and hugged them close to his heart.
Lahan would stop training to shed silent tears.
His master had been cruel in life, yet he could not bear to strike him now.
Instead he treated Lahan like a beloved son or even a beloved grandson.
Far behind a single tree where fallen leaves drifted, Logan would stand and watch the young swordsman’s back with eyes brimming with tenderness no one else could match.
Lahan wept.
He wept loudly.
Only then did he finally understand that his master had truly departed.
He was no longer the bird trapped inside a cage.
“……”
Winter returned.
Lahan celebrated his twentieth birthday alone.
The loneliness was there, yet he was not lonely.
From this day forward he had sworn to live as a full-grown adult in this cold and merciless world.
Lahan turned his gaze to the sword he still held.
Blue sword aura swirled around the blade.
It was the very principle that strengthened a blade’s killing power and the crystallized essence of enlightenment.
Yet he did not stop there.
Sword aura had long since become a distant memory.
Lahan closed his eyes.
He replayed the path he had walked and returned to the starting point once more.
For a moment the short life he had lived turned from blue light into dazzling white.
Lahan remembered the days his masters had passed.
Carlson and Logan.
Both had left this world on a winter day when snow fell.
That image had stayed deep in his memory, tucked away in some corner.
Lahan’s sword aura transformed into ganggi.
At last a single white snowflake bloomed.
Human wisdom opened into a new way of thinking.
It was the realm that contained nature and flowered.
Lahan slowly opened his eyes.
So, without a sound, another superhuman had appeared in the world.
*
Lahan began packing his belongings for departure.
He was not preparing for a simple outing.
This was the start of an endless journey that lay ahead.
“Carlson, Logan. This disciple greets you both.”
Before their graves, Lahan knelt on one knee and bowed his head deeply.
This was the deepest respect and reverence he could offer to those who had briefly lived in this world.
“I do not yet understand what knightly virtue you two gentlemen carried within you.”
Lahan raised his bowed head and gazed at the twin gravestones.
“I will learn it slowly, from now on.”
Lahan stood to his feet, determined to become a great knight like them.
“Then I must take my leave. I will return when I have grown stronger.”
Both men had been his teachers.
There was no question of who had taught him longer or better.
Logan and Carlson had simply cared for him and looked upon him, and that was why he stood here now.
He could even say Carlson’s seed had bloomed into flowers under Logan’s care.
Lahan finally turned his back on them.
He took one step away, then another, until the ground between them no longer felt empty.
He walked forward without hesitation.
Once he began, no trace of doubt or wavering remained.
Lahan had stepped completely outside the world.
“Excuse me! Pyestones are only ten silvers each!”
“Don’t lie! It’s fraud! Pyestones famous for being harder than southern-region steel, sold for just ten silvers? You’re insane!”
“What? Do you think this is a sale? It’s the real thing!”
The bustling streets of the central district were lined with shops that swarmed travelers the moment they passed.
This endless haggling took place in a city called the City of Adventurers.
Crying Heaven Territory, located in the eastern part of the continent.
Because trade routes were well developed here, the streets never emptied.
Places with large floating populations naturally turned into major cities.
Prices were therefore far lower than in other regions.
“……”
Someone walked quietly through that place.
It was Lahan.
He had crossed mountains and forded streams for a long time before finally reaching the eastern lands.
His clothes were worn and travel-stained.
He had come here because the City of Adventurers was famous as a place to begin as an adventurer, not as a knight.
He wanted to gather experience and lay a foundation before he could call himself a formal knight.
No matter how strong my power is, it will not make me a knight. I am only a swordsman holding a blade. Here, I will build my own chivalry with the experience I lack.
The city was full of people and races.
Magicians who had never been seen by him before walked past, staffs in hand.
Lahan entered one of the adventurer guilds near the city center and approached the reception desk.
“I am a training knight,” he told the clerk.
A training knight was anyone who wandered the world on their own to gain experience before receiving official appointment from a lord or king.
“A training knight, then. Please write your name and age here.”
The clerk offered a small rectangular sheet. Lahan wrote his current name and age with steady strokes.
He handed it back.
The female clerk glanced at it, then smiled gently.
“Just a moment, please. I will issue your adventurer’s proof card right away.”
“Understood.”
Lahan did not bother with polite speech.
In this world, training knights were treated as lower than commoners.
Even formal knights received the courtesy of a baron, yet anyone claiming chivalry could still speak without honorifics to a training knight or below.
After a short wait, the clerk returned carrying a card that looked as if it had come from the early fifteenth century.
“This is an adventurer’s card. It can also be used as proof of identity. All adventurers begin at F-rank. The rank indicates one’s level of skill and experience. It exists to prevent reckless acceptance of high-rank quests.”
The clerk continued with other essential information.
“If you ever forget anything, feel free to ask. We welcome you as an adventurer!”
Lahan nodded, received the card, and turned toward the adventurer bulletin board.
The board was crowded with people looking for quests during broad daylight.
Lahan hesitated for a moment whether to squeeze between the crowd.
But hesitation passed quickly.
He pushed through the crowd and forced his way to the front of the board.
That was when—
“Ouch!”
He accidentally stepped on a woman’s foot.
“Who is it?!”
When he looked up, twin violet eyes blazed with anger.
“Eh?”
When their eyes met, the woman’s own eyes widened in surprise.
She was a magician with black hair, just like him.
Black hair was considered an ominous symbol of witches in certain countries.