I Am a Swordmaster (1)
“Khan. We’ve arrived.”
“Good. Send the halt signal.”
Skadi issued the order and quietly lifted her head to survey the scene ahead.
The snowfields where her people had lived their entire lives had always been a pristine white. But now, the color of that world was changing.
She could see it. The black.
A jet-black wall, dark as pitch.
“So that’s the Northern Barrier.”
An impregnable fortress that had stood for countless ages without ever falling, even once.
The pride of Agehis Territory and the north—it remained steadfast, utterly unshaken even by these unwelcome visitors.
As if this northern gale were nothing at all.
“They were prepared, after all.”
Knights in steel armor lined the battlements above.
Their gazes, peering down from beneath their helmets at the warriors below, burned with crystal clarity in her vision.
“A futile effort.”
In a siege, the attackers held an overwhelming disadvantage. The benefits of the defender’s position were simply too vast.
However, lose that fortress, and the roles reversed—the defenders would suffer the same crushing disadvantage.
And she was the khan. A single strike from her could shatter that wall.
They weren’t defending from atop the walls; they needed to come out and block the path before it.
Well, that suits me just fine...
They had a Swordmaster among them, one said to be her equal.
That person, above all, should know how meaningless a defensive strategy was—yet they chose it anyway?
It made no sense.
Are they really not sending anyone out?
As that thought crossed her mind, the gates of the fortress began to creak open slowly.
No one could comprehend it: doing nothing but hunkering behind the walls until the enemy was right in front of them, then finally opening the gates.
Wondering what ploy this might be, Skadi hesitated for a moment. Then, something began to emerge from within.
It wasn’t tens of thousands of soldiers or thousands of knights.
Just a single man.
“.....?”
Only that one man walked toward them.
.
The absolute worst thing to do in someone else’s world is derail the original story...
I’d thought that every time I read a possession or transmigration novel.
Why meddle in the plot and ruin your own fate with your own hands?
Never imagined I’d be the one doing it now.
How the hell did it come to this...?
I hadn’t planned it from the start.
But once I faced this world for real, everything I’d only read about in text came alive so vividly that I couldn’t just look away.
A pointless idea popped into my head, and damn it all, every circumstance aligned perfectly, forcing me to stick my nose in.
...Enough idle thoughts for now.
How it happened could wait. Right now, the pressing matter was facing the warriors before me.
“Welcome, warriors. To the north.”
I stepped out from the wall and walked toward them.
Without a trace of fear or tension, but with measured steps full of poise, I took my place at the heart of the battlefield.
Once I’d gone far enough that the walls could no longer shield me, I spread my arms wide toward the warriors and began to speak.
“I already know you’ve come to this land for war.”
“Cold, starving, your people dying—you had no other choice. And so it shall be.”
They were warriors, not human butchers.
For decades, they’d survived the frozen wastes hunting beasts and monsters, never once showing ambition toward northern lands.
Those snowfields were their ancestral home—something they could never abandon.
“Yet even so—precisely because of that—I don’t believe you wish for pointless bloodshed.”
Even so, they’d descended from the wastes because survival left them no choice.
Thus, they still didn’t relish spilling blood. And neither did we.
“Therefore, I propose a duel.”
A way to resolve it all without bloodshed.
A duel.
The knights’ way. The warriors’ way.
A method so clean that neither honor-bound knights nor prideful warriors could easily dispute the outcome.
“Anyone will do. Withstand my blade, and I’ll grant whatever you desire.”
“If just one of you endures a single strike from me, warm lands and filling food shall be yours.”
Not a call to victory—just to survive one blow.
And I stood alone; any human would tire with each attack, tilting the duel in their favor over time.
It was an outrageous proposal, beyond imagination.
Knights and warriors alike murmured in confusion at the sudden offer from this lone man emerging from beyond the walls, war not even begun.
Calming the bewildered crowd was the appearance of a woman stepping slowly from the warriors’ ranks.
“An intriguing proposal.”
A female warrior clad head to toe in heavy iron plate, astride a massive white wolf.
Her piercing blue eyes, snow-white hair spilling from beneath her helm, and the enormous double-bladed axe she wielded as lightly as a twig—I couldn’t pretend not to know her name.
“Skadi.”
“You know me, knight of the empire?”
“Of course. One mustn’t fail to recognize the Khan of the Snowfields.”
Skadi let out a short, amused snort, clearly pleased by the reply. She leaped down from the wolf and addressed me.
“Indeed. You call us barbarians and scorn us, but we are proud warriors of the snowfields, and we seek no meaningless blood.”
A positive sign, it seemed. As my face lit up, Skadi suddenly twisted her lips into a sneer.
“But I cannot accept that proposal.”
She pointed at me and declared coldly, as if stating an irrefutable fact.
“The north belongs to Agehis. You are not Agehis. Thus, your words hold no meaning, no value.”
She was right.
In a clash between powers, I—who held no authority—could offer nothing.
Unless someone placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Worry not on that count.”
“I am a Swordmaster, honored in the name of Lia Agehis. She has delegated all authority to me.”
Everything was done with Lia’s permission, so my words carried weight.
I laid it out and stared at her steadily.
She mulled it over, then tilted her head in sudden doubt and raised an objection.
“......But, a Swordmaster?”
“Any issue?”
“......I’d heard the empire’s north has but one Swordmaster: the lord of Agehis.”
“Then now you know better.”
Skadi fell silent, at a loss for words.
I watched her quietly, then slowly turned the question back on her.
“Besides, that hardly matters, does it?”
“.....No. It matters not in the slightest.”
To Skadi, such quibbles were irrelevant.
If I weren’t a Swordmaster, it’d only favor her side.
What truly mattered was whether this proposal was genuine.
“Is this man telling the truth?”
Skadi glanced up at the walls and called out.
At her gaze’s target—the center of the battlements, where Lia overlooked it all—came no reply.
Instead, Lia slowly raised her sword, planted it atop the wall, and began her low declaration.
“I am Lia Agehis, noble and knight appointed by His Imperial Majesty.”
“As knight, as lord, as Agehis, I stake my honor that there is not one falsehood in the words spoken by the man before you.”
“He is a Swordmaster, and from this moment, he shall duel you, bearing our fates upon his shoulders.”
“Should any of your boasted warriors defeat him, I shall gladly yield as the result demands.”
Skadi shifted her gaze back to me at the declaration.
She gave a small nod and posed a curt question.
“....A single decisive bout?”
“I’ll grant you ten chances. End it within them.”
Not too few, not too many.
Since I held the initiative, that number struck the right balance.
...She has no choice but to accept.
From Skadi’s perspective, two Swordmasters stood against her now.
No matter her prowess as khan, she couldn’t handle two—and she knew it.
A single master could overturn a war; she could no longer choose battle.
Thus, she had to accept.
Answer me, Skadi.
I stared silently, awaiting her words.
In the tense air where all eyes hung on her response, she pondered long before finally speaking.
“....Very well.”
With that, Skadi quietly raised her axe.
Like Lia before, she slammed it into the ground with force and began her declaration.
“I am Skadi, khan ruling the thirty-six tribes of the snowfields, chieftain of these warriors.”
“I accept the proposal.”
“I shall send ten warriors. If they triumph, we take all you possess—but if we fail, we yield our own and withdraw.”
Skadi returned to her warriors’ ranks. Likely to select those for the duel.
I watched her retreating figure, standing firm, and thought to myself.
The stage is set.
A duel with the snowfield warriors—one that included master-level powerhouses among them.
The insane feat I’d pushed through was possible for one reason alone.
Thanks to this damned sword.
Excalibur, the hero-maker.
A hero is one who achieves feats worthy of the faith of all.
This sword granted power befitting that faith—for the hero.
What a garbage ability.
The more others believed you strong, the stronger you became.
At first glance, it seemed cheat-like—limitless power.
But reality was different.
Only in theory.
To make them believe you strong, you had to show something first.
And feats worthy of such faith demanded immense power to begin with.
Those who could truly wield this sword already possessed that power.
No ordinary human could harness it fully.
Or so I thought.
I hadn’t known. That a human could draw out its true worth.
And that it would be me.
‘Heroes are born of agitation and fabrication,’ was it?
To unlock this sword’s potential, you needed a name.
A title proclaiming your strength, beyond doubt.
By chance, I now had exactly that—alongside Excalibur.
A Swordmaster endorsed by a Swordmaster.
Fake in name only, but enough.
The title, acknowledged by the north’s greatest guardian, carried weight on its own.
Her faith in me had now imprinted clearly on the enemy.
That the man before them was a Swordmaster.
This sword always repays faith.
If they saw me as one, it would make me one.
Even if the odds converged on impossible—it would become real.
I can feel it.
A colossal power I’d never sensed before settled into my body, vivid and clear.
Vast mana surged within my flesh; body and senses transcended their limits.
Thus, the realm of those who walked the pinnacle unfolded before me.
I’m certain.
Normally, even one of those warriors would overwhelm me.
But now, facing their duel, no tension gripped me—only utter conviction of victory.
At least in this moment...
“I am a Swordmaster.”
......for I too was a Swordmaster.
A gray aura, symbol of great Swordmasters, enveloped the blade.
The sword, worthy of the world’s awe, now proclaimed its fierce presence to that world.
“Who among you dares challenge me?”
Your awe toward me has become my power.
Warriors—come at me boldly.