The Scarred Man's Fierce Sword
The scarred man's sword was incredibly fierce. It moved with raw brutality, seeming at first glance to follow no set path. Yet it was also powerful and fluid. Clang! When his blade met Haze's, sparks exploded outward.
Haze subtly eased the power in his sword, guiding the scarred man's trajectory, then spun his blade in a smooth arc aimed straight at the man's throat. The sequence was as perfectly timed as a rehearsed play, but the scarred man had clearly seen it countless times. He blocked it naturally with a cross guard.
The second sword, still spinning through the air, immediately shot toward the scarred man's forehead. Clang! Pulling his blade back to deflect the follow-up, the scarred man grinned so wide it looked like his mouth might split.
"Now that's an interesting little trick."
The scarred man planted his feet firmly and dropped his stance low. Twisting at the waist, he swung his sword with everything he had. Haze retreated half a step to evade, then calmly brought his blades together, focusing all his strength into a single point.
Slash! Haze's sword grazed the scarred man's shoulder. The contact felt too light. He'd only clipped the man's clothes.
The scarred man batted away the second incoming sword, eyes flashing. Red light burst from his gaze, and his single blade split into two—both real, both flying in from different angles.
Magic? No. This wasn't magic. It was pure swordsmanship.
Who's the one pulling interesting tricks here?
Haze gripped his hilt tightly and stepped forward with his left foot. Dragomil-style dual-wield swordsmanship, First Form. Green Dragon's Piercing Fang.
A razor-sharp current formed at the blade's tip, punching straight through the scarred man's guard. The man staggered back from the impact, expression turning thoughtful. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at Haze.
"That's Dragomil-style. So you're that guy? The legendary lucky bastard?"
Legendary lucky bastard. It was the mocking nickname given to Haze, the man who had somehow become the disciple of Valion Dragomil—the former duke and the empire's greatest sword.
The tone made the meaning clear. It wasn't a compliment. It sneered at a nobody who had lucked his way into becoming the master's student.
Haze adjusted his stance and muttered, "I've never met a single impressive person who threw those words at me."
"Your distance judgment is excellent. Looks like the Empire's Greatest Sword doesn't accept just anyone. But still..."
Thud.
The scarred man stomped hard, lips curling upward. "Your swordsmanship is pretty pathetic, isn't it? Too busy looking somewhere else?"
Boom—!
Haze easily blocked the powerful upward strike. But the assault didn't stop. Blades rained down from the left, right, below, and above. Haze spun his sword in a single fluid circle.
Dragomil-style dual-wield swordsmanship, Second Form. Green Dragon Ascension.
A gentle current drew a perfect ring, deflecting every attack.
"That's exactly what makes it sloppy!"
The scarred man ignored the defense and drove straight through the center of the circle. The wall of wind shattered. Haze barely managed to block the thrust with the flat of his blade. His hands trembled.
He had sensed it from the start—the scarred man's swordsmanship was on another level. Wild yet perfectly controlled. He had mastered both extremes, and the result was devastating. He could adapt to any situation and use his strength with terrifying efficiency.
Yes, if this stayed a pure sword fight, Haze would be at a disadvantage. He could admit that much.
But I never said I only had swordsmanship.
Haze gripped his sword with both hands, raising it beside his head and pointing the tip at the scarred man. The second blade floating in the air leveled itself horizontally.
The first sword pierced the space between them.
Clang! The scarred man blocked it.
Swoosh! The second sword flew in at a similar angle.
Clang! The scarred man knocked it away again.
The pattern repeated. Haze moved his blades frantically, pressing the scarred man hard.
Haze's signature magic, Silent Shadow, was not telekinesis. The effect looked similar, but the mechanics were fundamentally different. Simply put, Silent Shadow created another version of himself—an invisible hand that moved exactly as he would. That was its true nature.
Once activated, he didn't need to focus on it. It attacked the enemy with graceful precision all on its own, as if Haze himself were wielding it.
…Why.
The twin blades aimed for the scarred man's head. Blocked.
……Why are they all—
The twin blades aimed for the scarred man's heart. Blocked again.
—getting blocked so effortlessly—
"Finding it strange?" the scarred man asked while parrying another strike. His tone was so casual that Haze briefly wondered if they were at a tea party instead of a battlefield. "It's obvious, isn't it!"
Boom!
An explosion far too loud to come from mere steel rang out. The scarred man sent Haze flying back, sneering.
"When I can see every move you're about to make, what does it matter if you have two swords or a hundred?"
"......"
"You should've trained your swordsmanship more seriously. You haven't even properly internalized the forms yet, but you're distracted by cheap tricks. That's why I can read you so easily."
Haze steadied his breathing and raised his sword. Not yet. He still had things he hadn't shown—
"And one more thing."
The scarred man spoke softly, lifting the tip of his sword toward the sky. His aura exploded outward.
"You and I were never on the same level to begin with."
No way.
The overwhelming presence was completely different from before. A single word flashed through Haze's mind.
As if confirming it, the scarred man quietly uttered that word.
"Liberation."
At the same moment, something changed behind the scarred man's back. It looked like thousands of tiny cubes forming and reassembling. A burning cloak materialized, and the flames flowed down into his sword.
Refinement magic was the core art of knights who forged their inner selves to create weapons. Created by the first emperor himself, this traditional and historic magic had distinct stages.
Stage 0: Weapon Reinforcement. Exactly as the name suggested—simply layering magic over a weapon. This was the stage Ruina had reached. The effect was limited to increasing sharpness or durability. It wasn't particularly helpful, so knights stuck at this level were usually called apprentices.
Next was Stage 1: Body Reinforcement. The stage Haze had attained. Magic now affected the body itself, and the most visible sign was the change in eye color. From this point, knights began displaying superhuman traits. Most official knights remained here.
But not all.
There was a realm only a handful of knights ever reached.
Stage 2: Liberation.
Everyone carries an ideal image of strength in their heart. The strongest form looks different for each person. Stage 2 Liberation was the power to manifest one of those perfected inner ideals into reality.
Flames roared. The heat was so intense Haze felt his lips drying out. Hot air that belonged nowhere near midwinter filled the space between them.
The scarred man leveled his blazing greatsword and growled.
"You wasted that precious talent on learning magic instead, so of course you're getting trampled by me, you lucky bastard!"
A red meteor painted the world. Haze's body lifted off the ground. After floating briefly, the earth yanked him back down. He tumbled across the snow.
Maybe because snow had piled up. His body didn't hurt much.
His insides, however, felt like they were on fire.
If you keep getting distracted by magic like that, you'll regret it one day, Haze.
There is an old saying: a disciple is a disciple because he doesn't listen to his master, and a master's words are always right. Haze was learning the truth of that saying with every fiber of his being.
"Orpin——!"
Isaac was driving Orpin back. A prince who had only known the imperial palace versus a man who had survived countless battlefields. There was no need to compare whose sword was sharper.
The scarred man approached with heavy steps.
Haze forced his unresponsive body upright, reflecting on the past.
When he first succeeded in activating Silent Shadow, he had been ecstatic. To elevate a single spell to the level of a signature technique—he had believed he had finally become a disciple his master could be proud of.
His swordsmanship had improved daily. When he caught the eye of the royal family and became a guardian knight, he thought the world had finally acknowledged him.
It had all been meaningless.
His master had been right. A knight studied refinement magic but was not a mage. He should have understood that long ago.
Regret flooded him. If only he had devoted himself to the sword. If only he had abandoned magic sooner. If only he had realized this truth earlier.
Listening to the scarred man's footsteps crunching through the snow, Haze screamed inside his heart.
Anyone. It doesn't matter who. God? An evil god? A demon? An angel? Anyone at all. I'll give you whatever you want. I'll grant any wish. Just give me one chance to fix this regret. Whoever you are, I don't care.
Please. Just one more chance—
"It's over, lucky bastard. In your next life, don't waste the fortune you've been given."
Just one more chance—!
BOOOOM!
A massive weight slammed into the ground. But it wasn't a greatsword.
Haze lifted his head in a daze. Right in front of him—on the very spot where the scarred man had stood—the fist of a wooden giant he had seen once before was crushing down with terrible force.
"I don't usually accept injuries, but since you're a valued customer, Sir Haze, you'll make sure to give me that magic, right?"
The voice was so calm it didn't match the dire situation at all. Strangely, Haze felt relief wash over him.
Rumble.
Dozens of wooden soldiers were summoned at once, blocking Isaac's path.
Ruina walked toward him with steady, unhurried steps.
Isaac, interrupted right before delivering the finishing blow to Orpin, exploded with rage.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Hello there."
"Do you even understand what it means to stand in my way? Do you understand what it means to make Isaac Eternno your enemy?!"
"What are you talking about, Your Highness the Second Prince?"
Ruina smiled brightly, then summoned an enormous wooden giant from the earth and climbed atop its shoulder. In a voice like she was singing, she continued.
"Did you understand what it meant when you stole my Star Silver?"