Chapter 144
Chapter 144
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Sword Master's Evaluation
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Dwyn suddenly recalled the attitude of his two disciples as they explained the situation.
They seemed to have a lot to say, yet they ultimately held back—
Dwyn had taken that as them recognizing their own mistakes and exercising restraint.
But after encountering the man called Rishir in person, his thoughts had changed drastically.
Seeing something for oneself is better than hearing about it a hundred times, as the saying goes.
What if his disciples had tried to explain verbally why they had handed over the abomination to this man named Rishir?
Dwyn wouldn't have accepted any explanation, no matter what.
The abomination they described was something no single person could possibly handle.
And yet—
The abomination had become a pure spirit, flitting about from body to body like changing clothes.
That was the scene unfolding right before Dwyn's eyes.
If his two disciples had tried to describe this in words, Dwyn would have immediately bound their arms and legs to check if they were possessed by evil spirits.
'That's why...'
Jane and Felix.
They had foreseen all this and cut straight to bringing Dwyn face-to-face with Rishir.
Dwyn forgot his bewilderment at the bizarre phenomenon before him and looked at his two astute disciples with admiration.
They had made the best judgment without a moment's hesitation, so naturally—
"..."
"..."
"?"
Huh.
They were overcome with embarrassment.
"That little spirit... is the abomination...?"
"Rishir, what happened in the meantime..."
"..."
Ah.
I see.
'It really is strange that the abomination has become a pure spirit.'
Dwyn felt relieved and plunged into confusion.
The Dwyn group finally regained their composure and looked once more at the abomination's spirit.
"..."
A small girl staring blankly into empty space.
She looked utterly harmless.
'For that horrific abomination to turn into such an innocent spirit overnight...'
Dwyn unconsciously fiddled with his left hand.
The left hand that had been consumed by the abomination.
To Dwyn, who had spent many long years coexisting with the abomination in an unhealthy way, the current situation felt especially unreal.
"Rishir."
At that moment, Jane spoke.
"This is sudden, but what you did for my left hand that asks—could you do the same for our master—"
"Jane."
Dwyn's stern tone cut her off.
They couldn't even guess how Rishir had turned the abomination into an obedient spirit.
But one thing was certain.
Rishir must have paid a considerable price for it.
"No. We've already incurred debts from him that we can never repay. And we haven't even settled those yet—how could we make another request? Especially such an unreasonable one."
"..."
"..."
Under Dwyn's reprimand, the two disciples bowed their heads.
For master's sake.
It was a stern reprimand that their earnest plea wouldn't sway in the slightest.
Above all, her words were absolutely correct.
They didn't know exactly what price Rishir had paid to control the abomination.
To blindly ask for his help in such a situation.
It was at that moment, as the two heroes felt ashamed and were about to apologize to Rishir—
"Excuse me for a moment."
Rishir carefully took Dwyn's hand in his own.
"Mm..."
Dwyn let out an involuntary groan.
The red leather forming the glove had replaced her skin.
Blood vessels protruded and writhed here and there, and the skin was so dry it seemed it would tear at the slightest touch.
Her left hand, devoured by the abomination, was in a state that—even charitably—could only be called grotesque.
Even she, who was used to it, occasionally felt disgust.
How much worse must it be for others?
People who saw her left hand usually couldn't hide their revulsion.
Some made an effort to conceal their true feelings, but even they couldn't bring themselves to touch it.
Its hideous appearance made it seem entirely plausible that some impure energy or curse would transfer with mere contact.
Therefore, this was an utterly unfamiliar situation for Dwyn.
For another person to touch her without hesitation.
Rishir examined Dwyn's hand intently,
and Dwyn watched Rishir intently.
"This is sudden."
"Ah, if it's unpleasant, I apologize. I got ahead of myself—"
"It's fine. But you say your will got ahead of you—"
"I thought I might be able to help."
"You're a kind person. I can see why Jane, Felix, and even the holy sword speak well of you."
"Just one of my countless virtues."
Rishir smiled playfully at Dwyn.
Dwyn's stern expression softened slightly.
"I don't know much, so forgive my ignorance, but is this the usual state?"
"It's the price of hubris. I believed I could fully control the abomination. This is the result. If I'd kept my vigilance and stayed away from it, I wouldn't be in this situation."
"..."
Rishir gazed intently at Dwyn's hand.
He carefully placed his other hand over it.
Dwyn's body flinched.
Was it because it had been so long?
The cool sensation touching her hand felt surprisingly pleasant.
"Ah, sorry. Did it hurt?"
"No. It's fine. I was just startled since it's been so long since anyone touched me."
Dwyn focused on the sensation on the back of her hand.
Soon, she looked at Rishir and said,
"It's a beautiful hand."
"That's too generous a compliment. And a unique perspective. I never thought of my hand that way."
"I can feel the traces of immense effort. Undoubtedly, you must have poured blood and sweat to reach where you are now. I respect that."
"Ah, that's what you meant. Thank you. Coming from someone of your caliber, it fills me with pride."
"You know something about me?"
"It's presumptuous, but as a swordsman myself, I can sense certain things. Above all, you're the master of those two heroes, aren't you?"
The conversation proceeded in a very casual atmosphere.
However, was it because of their posture—hands clasped close, faces facing each other?
Or perhaps because the master's appearance still looked like she was in her twenties?
The parties involved seemed fine, but the two disciples watching from afar felt a strange sensation.
Rishir.
You're not trying to seduce our master right now, are you?
Just then, Rishir released Dwyn's hand.
Phew.
Leaving the relieved disciples behind, he spoke to their master.
"I hope it shows some improvement."
Dwyn responded with a calm voice.
That was it.
She didn't ask about Rishir's intentions or check her hand.
Because nothing changed just from a brief touch of hand to hand.
She had tried, but it hadn't worked, so she gave up.
That was how Dwyn interpreted Rishir's action.
Afterward, her gaze turned somewhere.
To Rishir's gray robe hanging on the chair.
To the abomination's spirit clinging tightly to it.
Dwyn stared at the spirit for a while, then looked at her own left hand.
"..."
A bitter smile crossed Dwyn's face.
It lasted only a fleeting moment.
She hid it before anyone else could see.
Then, Dwyn said to Rishir,
"Rishir. Is there anything you desire as recompense for this incident?"
"Recompense? No need."
"No. You were dragged into danger by Jane's mistake, yet you exerted yourself to save not only yourself but Jane and Felix as well. Your merits deserve respect."
"I've already received the Asking Left Hand as recompense."
"No. That is not something that can serve as proper recompense."
"Haha."
It was a matter tied to the two heroes' dignity, so Dwyn's attitude was firm.
A strong determination to tuck away her sleeves!
Rishir had no choice but to start pondering.
What could he reasonably request as recompense from the two heroes and their master?
For something started half-heartedly, an answer came surprisingly quickly.
"In that case, could I ask for a simple evaluation of my swordsmanship?"
Rishir.
Through the normalization of the Asking Left Hand this time, he felt that the 7th realm was now right before him.
He thought that appraising Dwyn's sword before reaching the 7th realm would be of great help.
"Think a bit more. You have the right to demand far more than that."
"If I say it's because my expectations of you are that high, what then?"
"..."
A change appeared on Dwyn's stern expression.
"To place such great expectations on me. I'll have to strive to live up to them."
It was a subtle change at first glance, but the two disciples knew how significant it was.
Dwyn's eyes looking at Rishir rarely held emotions like interest.
The two disciples watching from the side felt an oddly peculiar sensation.
No.
Rishir.
You really aren't seducing our master right now, are you?
"Then. Shall we move to another location? Bring your sword."
Dwyn pointed to the holy sword as she spoke.
She assumed that he, now the new owner of Oathblade, would naturally take Oathblade's sword.
However, the sword Rishir picked up was not the holy sword, but another one.
A faint ripple stirred in Dwyn's eyes.
Even after becoming the holy sword's master, he doesn't cling to the holy sword?
"Rishir. May I ask one thing?"
"Please do."
"You've become the new master of Oathblade. Yet you still cling to that sword, which looks like your old one. May I know why?"
"In the end, what matters isn't the sword, but the one wielding it. Above all, this one is still more familiar in my hand."
"..."
Scratch.
A sound like that echoed inside Dwyn.
It was the sound of a pencil moving across paper—scoring.
Right now.
Rishir had gained an additional point inside Dwyn.
"...Wait."
At that moment, Dwyn, who had been examining Rishir's sword intently, spoke.
Her gaze was fixed on the lotus flower emblem engraved on the scabbard.
"Rishir, that sword couldn't be—"
"Pardon? Ah. You recognize it."
"How did that sword end up with you..."
"It seems she took a liking to me."
"...Even so. She yielded that sword to you? She, of all people, that sword?"
"Looking back, I'm still dazed by it. It's overly generous even now. A stroke of luck. All I can do is strive to be worthy of this sword."
"I see."
Dwyn's gaze on Rishir was peculiar.
—Tell me. This item here. What were you thinking when you wrote that answer?
It was like a professor asking a student that, then waiting for the response.
Scratch.
1 point.
Scratch.
1 point.
That familiar sound echoed inside Dwyn once more.
"..."
"..."
What?
What sword is that?
What on earth are they talking about?
Their master conversing with Rishir about something only they understood, leaving her disciples behind.
As the two disciples felt an inexplicable anxiety and sought a chance to join the conversation—
"It's cramped here, so let's move."
Dwyn took the lead proactively, guiding them.
Rishir followed with anticipation—
and the two disciples followed with unease.
"Rishir, you sure about this?"
During the move, Jane said to Rishir.
"Sure about what?"
"Our master. As you can see, she's incredibly strict. Especially about swords! As someone with experience, here's my advice: brace yourself. Don't dream of hearing anything nice. Just focus on not getting scolded too badly."
"Haha. She must be quite merciless?"
"You have no idea!"
Jane gazed into the distance, reminiscing about the past, then shuddered with a weary 'ugh.'
"I'm still scared to hold a sword in front of master. That stern expression! When she teaches swordsmanship, I've never seen her with any other face. No. Wait, she hasn't even shown that face yet. Rishir. When you stand before master and hold your sword, you'll understand. How mild-mannered she is normally!"
"...That serious?"
Her expression and tone were too earnest to dismiss as exaggeration.
Rishir's face grew grave as well.
'Clana style...'
A murder ghost's sword that boldly discards basics and relies purely on instinct.
How would this sword appear in the eyes of that stern swordswoman?
Rishir began to worry more than he anticipated.
Soon, Dwyn, leading the way, stopped.
The place they arrived at was an open clearing in the mansion's backyard.
"Before we begin, I have a question."
Dwyn said to Rishir before drawing her sword.
"What made you pick up the sword?"
"...!"
"...!"
At that question, Jane and Felix flinched.
The very first question she had asked when taking them as disciples, now posed to an outsider like Rishir?
Of course that would catch their attention.
However, the real reason they were shocked was different.
Dwyn.
Her standards were exceedingly harsh.
They were certain.
No one could elicit a satisfactory response from her on the first try.
—...I see.
That had been Dwyn's reaction to their answers back then.
Not pleased, but not scolding either.
As her students, it was a maddening response.
Felix and Jane directed preemptive sympathy toward Rishir, who would soon undergo that horrific experience.
"The reason I took up the sword... probably to gain my father's recognition."
"Your father's recognition?"
"Well, in the end, it all turned out meaningless."
Rishir reflected on his memories and wore a bitter smile.
That smile stemmed not from resentment toward his father, but self-mockery toward his past self.
It was a smile laden with backstory, enough to stir the maternal instincts many women harbored—
Unfortunately, the Dwyn they knew was a woman far removed from such delicate emotions.
Oh no.
Felix and Jane muttered inwardly.
Such a frail demeanor.
Such a frail reason.
No way their stern master would look favorably on—
"Oh..."
Pity welled up in Dwyn's eyes as she looked at Rishir.
"Who did you learn the sword from?"
"Self-taught."
"Self-taught?"
Scratch.
1 point.
"Yes. No one in my family would teach me."
"Yet you persisted on the path of the sword?"
"That's why I wanted to prove myself with the sword."
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
1 point. 1 point. 1 point. 1 point.
"..."
Master?
The master's eyes burned not just with enthusiasm, but with fervor.
At this unfamiliar sight of their master, the two disciples' eyes wavered.