Sword Master, Caron (5)
Don't move.
The Sword Saint's voice rang in his ear, and before Najin could even grasp the meaning of those words, his body locked rigid as stone. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't so much as twitch a finger.
Because the master of this domain had not permitted it.
It was a sensation similar to when Merlin had seized him. If he clenched his teeth and twisted hard enough, he might be able to move — but Najin did not. He simply forced his eyes wide open, determined to witness whatever was about to unfold with his own two eyes.
Bloodshot veins stood out in Najin's eyes. Blood pooled along the corners and streamed down.
Shaaaaa...
Rain was falling across the field. Every drop that struck the ground bounced upward. In that stretched-out flow of time, Najin watched the Sword Saint. The man who had reached the pinnacle of the sword was swinging his blade.
No matter how hard he strained his eyes — even along that elongated timeline — Najin could not clearly see the Sword Saint's swing. The tip that had been pointed at the sky was, at some point, pointing at the ground. The instant Najin registered that fact—
Thud. Thud-thud-thud-thud.
The pouring raindrops split. Something struck them and sent them scattering. Something was approaching, carving through the rain. Splash of water. Parting curtains of rain. It came on, shoving aside the downpour that had blurred his vision.
The distance between the Sword Saint and Najin was well over several dozen meters — but physical distance held no meaning here.
This was the Sword Saint's domain. When he swung his sword, being cut was only natural. And so the mass of light that burst from the tip of the Sword Saint's blade came hurtling toward Najin without the slightest hesitation.
To an ordinary eye, it would register as a single flash. But in Najin's pupils it was visible — a colossal pillar of light descending in a straight line, like a guillotine.
Seogeok.
The cutting sound rang out a beat later. Along with that delayed sound of severance, it stopped right before Najin's face. It was a gigantic blade. Only then did Najin realize that the vast mass of light that seemed to touch the heavens was the Sword Saint's sword aura.
That aura was reflected in Najin's sunset-colored eyes. He had witnessed a single strike unleashed by one who stood at the peak. Just looking at it made his head throb.
Hwaaaaaak!
In the next instant, the aura scattered. The aura was gone, but the wind it had dragged along crashed into Najin a moment later. His hair whipped in the swirling gale. His clothes flapped wildly.
Hudududududuk!
The raindrops that had been split by the aura were driven by the wind and pelted Najin's body. Through the rain striking his face, Najin finally released the breath he had been holding. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers hard against his eyelids.
It had been only an instant. Only an instant — and yet the Sword Saint's strike was carved into Najin's mind as a single stroke. Even with his eyes closed, the image was searingly clear. The sword the Sword Saint had swung settled in Najin's mind as a dividing line.
The line that separated the ordinary from the superhuman. A vast wall that bisected the world into Sword Masters and those who were not. The strike the Sword Saint had shown him was exactly that kind of dividing line.
"..."
Najin touched the nape of his neck — that bone-chilling sensation he had felt the moment the Sword Saint drew his blade, as if a sword tip were already resting against his throat.
It wasn't my imagination.
Najin realized that now. This entire area was the Sword Saint's domain. The moment that truth sank in, a hollow laugh slipped out.
Slowly opening his eyes, Najin looked down at his feet. A deep, straight gouge in the earth. That single stroke carved into the ground stretched all the way to the Sword Saint standing far in the distance — a single sword stroke that, in an instant, had split the earth and parted the raindrops as it shot forth.
He had seen it, yet could not understand it. Unable to understand it, it felt alien. And because it was alien, it was a vast wall.
Most who faced such a wall either crumbled before it or felt dread and emptiness before a realm they would never reach even if they spent their entire lives. But that was a story limited to ordinary swordsmen.
Najin was a different breed. A freak who provoked constellations, who had drawn Excalibur, who threw his life into gambles time and time again — a freak among freaks.
"Ha..."
And so, the moment he faced the wall, Najin smiled. He felt his hands trembling. It was not a tremor born of fear. What Najin felt now was awe — and exhilaration. The feeling of facing the peak he would one day have to reach...
No. No, that's not it.
Najin clenched his sword hard. Not a place he would one day reach. Not a place to reach — a place to trample and surpass. Because the height Najin aimed for was the highest point in that sky.
Chewing on his goal, Najin lifted his head. He raised his gaze and met the Sword Saint's eyes. The moment their gazes locked, the Sword Saint burst out laughing — because Najin's eyes had not wavered in the slightest.
"As promised, I will teach you the sword."
After the sparring ended, the Sword Saint spoke.
"I have a great deal of work myself, so I won't be able to visit all that often — but I'll make time at least once a month. You're worth that much."
Once a month. The only change was that the person reviewing his sword had shifted from a middle-rank priest to the master of the order itself. For Najin, it was a familiar offer. Volkman had made the same proposal before.
"Needless to say, I have no intention of making this public. You don't seem to want that either, and... I have a few too many enemies."
The Sword Saint smiled bitterly.
"If word gets out that I've taken a disciple, the Executioner of the Holy Blood Church will definitely track you down. Without a doubt. That's just the kind of person she is."
"The Executioner of the Holy Blood Church..."
"A Sword Master who holds six stars, same as me — Yuel Razian."
A killer. That was how that Sword Master was called. Najin already knew a fair amount about Yuel Razian. Backgrounds and brief profiles of the Sword Masters were easy enough to find.
The one who supposedly reached the realm of Sword Master by killing a great many people...
An anomalous Sword Master. He had once read a passage saying that the Executioner of the Holy Blood Church was an object of contempt and fear among swordsmen, not respect.
"She wants to cut me down, you see. If she hears I've taken a disciple, she's bound to take an interest. And even without her, the eyes of the entire world would be on you..."
The Sword Saint grinned.
"Want that? I won't stop you if you do."
"I'll pass."
Najin declined politely. The Sword Saint nodded as if he had expected that.
"So you have no intention of joining the Sword Church, just as Volkman said. Well, I wouldn't particularly recommend it either."
"Aren't you the master of the Sword Church?"
"The Sword Church is a good place. A good place — but not a good place for accumulating a wide range of experience."
Caron cut himself off cleanly.
"What you need seems to be diverse experience, so the Church doesn't suit your temperament. I have no intention of forcing it. If anything, I tend to recommend becoming a wandering swordsman."
Arms folded, Caron gazed out over the rain-soaked field. His eyes seemed to be looking beyond it.
"You wander the world with nothing but a single sword in hand. You see a great deal, experience a great deal, exchange with countless people. That is how a sword is completed. I did the same, and so did the first Sword Saint."
Unbound by anything. You walk wherever your feet take you. Listening to Caron speak that way, Najin nodded. The path he wanted to walk was similar.
Listening to Caron, Najin parted his lips for a moment.
"Sword Saint."
There was one thing he was curious about. Najin looked straight at Caron. The Caron reflected in Najin's eyes was different from Volkman — not someone whose goal was to raise talented swordsmen, but someone who seemed to regard that as nothing more than a means to an end.
"Why do you want to teach me the sword?"
And so Najin asked. What do you hope for, that you would teach me the sword? At that question, the Sword Saint smiled bitterly.
"Teaching the sword to those with talent is a virtue of the master of the Sword Church... I'd like to be able to answer that way, but that isn't the whole of it."
Caron answered briefly.
"To fulfill the secret wish of the Sword Church. For now, that's all I can say. I can't give you the details, so understand."
The Church's secret wish? While Najin was registering his doubt at Caron's words and nodding for the time being—
Hoo...
Merlin's breath reached Najin's ear — a slightly startled breath. After exhaling, Merlin continued.
A little unexpected. I didn't think there was anyone left who still remembered that...
Do you know what the Church's secret wish is?
How could I not? It's connected to Arthur.
Merlin's voice grew heavy. Unlike usual, there was no playfulness or laughter in her voice at all as she spoke.
The liberation of the first Sword Saint. That's the secret wish of the Sword Church.
The first Sword Saint — wasn't that a hero from the age when King Arthur was active? He's already dead, or become a constellation...
He didn't die. More precisely, he couldn't die.
A bitter voice. Merlin spoke with a sigh.
Because that bastard became the ghost of Kamran.
Inside the carriage returning to the Sword Church, middle-rank priest Volkman eyed his friend sitting across from him. The Sword Saint, Caron. He was polishing his sword with a more satisfied smile than ever.
"So he met your standards too, did he? That young man."
"Would it only be my standards?"
At Volkman's question, the Sword Saint shrugged.
"Put any Sword Master in front of him and they'd react the same way I did. He has that much potential."
The potential Caron spoke of. Volkman knew well that it was not limited to mere talent. This was Caron, who had refused to teach even countless geniuses, saying they didn't measure up.
"He wasn't afraid even after seeing my sword. No hesitation either. Did you see the look he gave me at the end? Good grief. I was so dumbfounded..."
Even as he muttered that, Caron was smiling.
"He was looking at me not as a place he would one day reach, but as a place he had to surpass. Can you imagine it? A warrior who's still only a Sword Expert looking at a Sword Master's blade and thinking that."
There is such a thing as an intense gaze. Look into someone's eyes and you can see what lies within. And that young man, insolently enough, had shown a will to challenge before the sword Caron had displayed. Not longing or awe — he had seen him as a target to overtake. What an absurd fellow.
But precisely because of that...
He liked him. This was exactly the kind of person Caron had been looking for. He had no interest in the boring types who admired him and set him as their goal.
Someone who would surpass him. Someone who would climb higher than him. That was the kind of existence Caron had been searching for.
"I have no intention of teaching that boy anything except the sword. Cooperate with me on that."
"...What do you mean by that?"
"It means I will never interfere in his life."
He would only teach the sword. He had no intention of meddling in the young man's life. No intention of backing him, and absolutely no intention of pulling him out of any crises that came his way. That would defeat the purpose.
He would overcome crises again and again with his own strength alone. Surmount trials. Break through dead ends. Survive life-and-death struggles and grow through them.
Caron had not the slightest intention of intervening in that process. Liking him did not mean he would cover for him. What he taught was swordsmanship and nothing more — everything else, the young man would have to fill with his own power.
And if he died in the process — then he would simply have been a vessel of that caliber and nothing more.
...Every Sword Master was twisted in some way. The Sword Saint Caron was said to be the most normal of the three Sword Masters, but even he was missing something as a human being.
"..."
Polishing his sword, Caron thought of his purpose. The secret wish of the Sword Church. It sounded grandiose at first hearing, but boiled down into a single sentence, the content of that wish was simple in the extreme.
Kill the first Sword Saint.
That was the Church's secret wish. Softened a little, it became something like "grant the first Sword Saint rest" — but it amounted to the same thing. Chewing on the Church's purpose, Caron thought of the land of the Abyss.
Even with six stars. Even having reached the realm of Sword Master. The distant land of Kamran in the Abyss remained so far away that its image was still vivid even with his eyes closed.
The land of the Abyss, Kamran.
In that space sealed off by Arthur in the distant past, cursed things still lived and breathed. Waiting only for the day the seal would break, they drifted through the heavens. The dragon that swallows stars, the Witch of the Fallen, the traitor of the Round Table, the fallen stars...
And the Sword Demon of the Abyss.
Whenever the barrier of Kamran trembled, there was a swordsman faintly visible beyond the boundary. He dragged his sword along the ground and slaughtered everything that approached, friend or foe alike. Because he looked like a ghost with a sword, he was called the Sword Demon.
But no one knew the true identity of the Sword Demon of the Abyss. He was known only as a swordsman who had gone mad while wandering the cursed land. Only a tiny handful of constellations and the successive Sword Saints of the Sword Church knew what that existence truly was. Recalling the Sword Demon he had faced at the boundary of Kamran, Caron looked at the sword he had been polishing.
...The Sword Demon of the Abyss was the first Sword Saint. One who had been eroded away over hundreds of years. A Sword Saint who remained alone in Kamran, cut off from the world, cutting down cursed things for hundreds of years. A hero of the past who had lost his reason and drifted through the heavens.
Liberating that once-noble existence was the secret wish of the Church — and the reason Caron had first begun to swing a sword.
Caron let out a long breath and slid his sword into its sheath. Would the young man he had met today become the one to fulfill that wish? That remained to be seen. Caron could only hope that the day would come when he could tell that young man this truth as well.
The first Sword Saint who became the Sword Demon of the Abyss.
He's an enemy you'll have to cut down someday. More precisely...
Merlin said to Najin.
He's an existence that only you can cut down.
Bitterness clung to those words.
Because that bastard can only be cut with Excalibur.