Sword Master Caron (2)
The first Sword Saint, the swordsman who founded the Sword Church, classified the realms of the sword into three broad stages.
Sword Expert.
Sword Seeker.
Sword Master.
These three realms were primarily distinguished by aura. There was simply no clearer or more distinct dividing line. But that held true only for the stages of Sword Seeker and Sword Expert.
Sword Masters were different.
They were something else entirely.
The gulf between Seeker and Master was so immense that people had long argued there ought to be an intermediate stage between the two.
Sword Seekers who had reached the heights of their realm would say it felt as though a colossal wall stood before them.
The more they tempered their swords and piled up skill through relentless training, the closer they drew to that wall. And when they finally stood before it, the wall was so vast that no matter how far they craned their necks, its summit remained invisible. Before that wall, countless Sword Seekers would suddenly let out a hollow laugh.
Expert this, Seeker that.
Those distinctions of realm were utterly useless, were they not? Had all the years they had spent training been meaningless? That was the hollow despair that seized them. For the massive wall standing before them declared it plainly.
The world was simply divided in two.
Sword Masters, and everyone else.
Transcendents who had surpassed humanity, and mere mortals.
Those who reduced even Sword Seekers to the level of ordinary men. That was what Sword Masters were—heterogeneous beings who could not be clearly distinguished by any ordinary measure.
「If Sword Experts are distinguished by drawing out aura, and Sword Seekers by imbuing that aura with their mindscape, then what distinguishes a Sword Master?」
Someone had once put that question to the first Sword Saint. The first Sword Saint had burst out laughing and answered thus:
「What's there to distinguish?」
Just this, he said.
「The moment you draw your sword, you'll know.」
「Ah, this bastard's a Sword Master.」
People had tilted their heads at the record, but as time flowed on, the world had no choice but to accept the first Sword Saint's words. There was simply no better way to express it.
The moment a Sword Master draws their sword, you realize it whether you wish to or not.
That the one standing before you is the pinnacle.
A transcendent who has reached the absolute extreme of the sword as a weapon.
Every Sword Master who had appeared throughout history, and the three Sword Masters who now led this era, had been exactly like that.
···And.
There was one person here who was feeling those words in her very bones.
“Huk… heook······.”
Sword Seeker Roselyn Ascalo's instincts were not merely ringing alarms—they were screaming. That the man standing before her was a Sword Master. The Sword Saint, Caron.
Even breathing was difficult.
Cold sweat ran down her spine.
Caron approached her one step at a time. In the terror of a reaper drawing near, Roselyn lowered her head. Then the footsteps stopped. A massive presence pressed right against her face.
Then—tap, tap.
Caron patted Roselyn's shoulder. She slowly raised her head. There stood Caron, hood still pulled low, smiling.
“Ah, I finally remembered. I thought I'd seen you somewhere. Aren't you that Roselyn Ascalo?”
Caron spoke as if genuinely pleased.
“A famous mercenary who reached the realm of Sword Seeker at a young age and even wields a Masterpiece. I'd thought more than once that I'd like to cross swords with you. Nice to meet you. I am···.”
“Ahem!”
Just as Caron was about to give his name, a cough sounded from behind Roselyn. There stood the restless middle-rank priest Volkman.
I will accompany you while hiding my identity.
Caron had clearly said as much.
Yet seeing Caron, who seemed to have no intention whatsoever of concealing his identity, Volkman was breaking out in cold sweat. An unofficial visit by a Sword Master. If that fact became known, truly, truly troublesome things would ensue.
“This is rude of me. In a situation where I cannot reveal my identity···.”
“C-C-C-Caron-nim, I greet you.”
“Oh dear.”
At Roselyn's trembling reply, Caron awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. With an expression that said he'd been found out, he shot a glance at Volkman. Volkman wiped his face and let out a long sigh.
“Well, since it's come to this.”
Caron exhaled shortly.
“Do you know an adventurer named Ivan?”
“···Yes?”
“I came all this way to see that fellow. If you know him, could you arrange a meeting? I'll see that you're compensated.”
Sword Master Caron.
Master of the Sword Church, the Sword Saint.
A request from one called a giant among giants.
Of course, from Caron's perspective—whose head was filled with nothing but the sword—it was a request tossed out without much thought, one that would not matter in the least if refused··· but that was only Caron's way of thinking.
“I'll do my absolute best!!!!!”
From Roselyn's standpoint, this was a top-priority mission that had to be completed as quickly as possible even at the risk of her life. It was not merely a bolt from the blue—it was a great mage's meteor crashing down from a clear sky.
“I'll arrange a meeting······!!!”
And so.
The situation had reached the present.
2.
The moment Najin, led by Roselyn's hand, arrived at the Red Eye Mercenary Corps' residence. As he opened the first-floor door and stepped inside, the gazes of the gathered mercenaries all snapped to him at once.
“Heok!”
“He's finally here!”
“Quick, Captain, quick···!”
They looked at Najin as if they had just seen a savior. Cheering at the prospect of finally being freed from the suffocating atmosphere, they shoved his back toward the stairs.
“He's waiting in the top-floor office. Quick! As quick as you can···!”
Najin had no choice but to be pushed up the stairs without the faintest idea why. Glancing back while climbing, he saw Roselyn collapsed onto a chair the mercenaries had dragged out, gasping for breath.
Kids, so much has happened to me.
I'm really fucking exhausted······.
Hearing Roselyn's lamenting voice and the mercenaries chiming in agreement, Najin continued up the stairs. Sword Master Caron had come looking for him. Najin could not begin to guess the reason.
Could it be that he noticed I pulled Excalibur?
-I can guarantee that won't be the case.
Merlin cut him off flatly.
-Even I didn't notice it. At this point it seems more accurate to think there's something special about that underground city you came from······.
After a brief moment of thought, Merlin continued.
-Anyway, unless the Church tipped him off, there's no chance he'll find out. And fundamentally, Caron isn't the sort of man to be swayed by the Church.
Do you know much about the Sword Saint?
-I do. He was originally the most likely candidate to pull Excalibur.
Among the three candidates, the most promising had been Sword Saint Caron. Thus Merlin knew a fair amount about him.
「That fellow Caron resembles the first Sword Saint.」
「Not in swordsmanship, but in personality.」
「Basically a man who takes no interest in anything but the sword. That's why I like him even more.」
Bedivere had evaluated him as one who knew only the sword.
The sword stood above all other values, yet his nature was upright—that was Bedivere's assessment.
I'll have to meet him to know for sure.
Najin regulated his breathing and kept walking.
Since the man had already come looking for him, the option of running away simply did not exist. He had no real sense of how powerful a Sword Master truly was, but at the very least it did not seem like something he could escape from.
Reaching the door of the top-floor office, Najin raised his hand. Knock knock—he rapped twice, then pulled the doorknob.
As the door opened and he was about to take a step inside, Najin's senses flared. A strange sensation like lightning racing down his spine. His eyes flew wide in an instant, bloodshot.
“Ah, finally here.”
A voice reached him.
Najin looked toward the source. There sat a familiar face—middle-rank priest Volkman—and someone with him.
A young man who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties.
The one who had removed his robe to fully reveal his face—Najin instinctively knew that this was Sword Saint Caron. Even without releasing any presence, simply sharing the same space with that man made Najin's senses blare alarms.
“···I'm Ivan.”
Najin, barely steadying his breath, spoke.
“I heard you were looking for me.”
“Mm, that's right.”
Caron rose from his seat.
“Nice to meet you. You may have already heard, but I'm Caron. Since fate has brought us to introduce ourselves, how about a handshake.”
He extended his hand toward Najin.
It looked like a simple request for a handshake, yet from Najin's perspective cold sweat was inevitable.
Who was the person standing before him?
Sword Saint Caron, master of the Sword Church.
Even just the honorary titles and power he held easily surpassed those of a duke, and at times he could sit at the same table as the sun of the empire itself.
No matter how outstanding a warrior one might be, without politics one could not grasp power… but those were problems that only arose from not being outstanding enough. If one possessed the martial might to overturn a nation single-handedly, power and titles followed of their own accord.
The empire's Sword Master Gerd had been like that.
The Church's Executioner Yuel Razian had been like that.
And the man before him, Sword Saint Caron, was like that.
Such a person was offering him a handshake. But who was Najin? A man who had not flinched even before Merlin, the transcendent of the night sky. Najin steadied his breath and took Caron's hand.
“I heard about you from Volkman. They say you're a swordsman of extraordinary talent······.”
While shaking hands, Caron smiled.
“There's no big reason I came looking for you.”
A pure smile. Eyes that laid his intent bare. Caron's gaze was fixed solely on the sword sheathed at Najin's waist.
“I came because I wanted to cross swords once. I could summon you to the Sword Church, but that would draw far too much attention to you··· well, I'll have to be satisfied with this.”
Caron shrugged.
“That's all I have to say.”
“···Yes?”
“You don't have anything more to say either, do you?”
If you've got questions, spit them out quickly. To Caron speaking like that, Najin tilted his head. Behind him, Volkman merely offered a bitter smile.
“If you have nothing more to say.”
It did not take long for Najin to understand the meaning of Volkman's bitter smile.
“Let's exchange swords. Follow me outside. There's a good place I spotted on the way into this city.”
Caron said so and rose, gathering his things.
Of course, “gathering his things” amounted to nothing more than the single sword he had leaned against the wall. Najin blankly blinked.
Sword Master Caron.
That such a towering figure had come looking for him for the sole reason of “wanting to clash swords.” It was not a reason one could easily accept.
Surely there's some other intention···.
As Najin was gauging Caron's mood, Caron flung the door open and whipped his head around.
“What are you doing. Hurry up and follow.”
With his sword slung over his shoulder, Caron urged him on.
His expression said his body was itching, that he could not endure another moment without clashing blades. Volkman approached the still-bewildered Najin and whispered.
“···He's originally like that.”
“Yes···?”
“I'm sorry about this. Still, it's an opportunity that will help you, so please forgive me somehow.”
Volkman patted Najin's back.
3.
After riding the carriage for a short while.
Passing through the forest, they arrived at a wide-open clearing. Najin, Caron, and Volkman stepped down from the carriage. Throughout the entire ride, Caron had not spoken a single word.
As if no further conversation was needed.
As if anything that needed asking would be asked with the sword.
Getting off the carriage, Najin glanced toward where Caron stood. Opposite him, Caron was lightly loosening his body. Spinning one arm in a full circle, he exhaled shortly.
Then—kang.
He drew his sword. Yet he did not hold the drawn blade. Leaving the sword stuck in the ground, he took the scabbard in hand. Holding the scabbard, he swung it a couple of times through the air··· then, as if he had found the feel, he put force into it and swung with a sharp whoosh.
Zzeok.
The earth was deeply gouged in a single straight line.
Najin's eyes flew wide. He could not understand what trick Caron had just performed. It did not even look as though he had clad the scabbard in aura, so how on earth······?
While Najin stood flustered, Caron rotated his wrist and smiled in satisfaction. As if this much was enough. He whipped his head around to look at Najin.
“What are you doing? Not drawing your sword.”
Caron said, tilting the scabbard.
Najin had clearly seen Caron lightly swing that scabbard moments ago and carve a deep trench in the ground. The future of dying instantly if he took a wrong hit was painted vividly before his eyes.
···Could this not be a spar at all, but an attempt to kill me?
It was a perfectly reasonable suspicion for Najin to entertain. He sighed and—kang—drew his own sword. Whatever the situation, it remained a fine opportunity.
“Then, I look forward to your guidance.”
An opportunity to experience the pinnacle.
Though he still could not keep up with the situation, since it had come to this he would wring every last drop of benefit from it. With that resolve, Najin settled into his stance.
-I can guarantee that a crazy bastard thinking of wringing benefits out of a Sword Master is only you.
Yes? What did you say?
-Nah, just do as you always do······.
Through Merlin's dumbfounded voice, Najin took a step forward.