Chapter 176
Chapter 176
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Swordsman Who Defeated a Sword Master
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What is a sword?
What is swordsmanship?
And what is a swordsman?
Did you come to me with questions like that?
You should've gone to our master, the Prime Sword, instead.
Well.
Still, since you've brought some pretty good booze, I suppose I should at least pretend to answer.
Let's see.
Easy to ask, hard to answer.
You should've come ten years earlier.
Back then, I could've given you a much simpler reply.
But now...
I don't really know.
No.
I have no idea at all.
What, you think I've achieved great things over these ten years?
Yeah. I have. Big time.
That's exactly why.
That's why I can no longer answer those questions.
To answer them, you have to be deluded into thinking you've fully comprehended the sword yourself.
Swing it a thousand times, and it feels like something's within your grasp.
But swing it ten thousand times, and you realize...
That thing you thought you grasped was just a mirage.
No matter how much you swing and swing and swing, there's always more path ahead that you haven't trod.
That's what the sword is.
Those eyes of yours.
You think I'm rambling on pointlessly after saying I don't know, don't you?
Well, cut me some slack here.
At my level, I can at least say this much, right?
There's a saying:
The one who knows their own ignorance is not truly ignorant.
In that sense, I've reached the realm of realizing my own ignorance.
How could someone like me define the sword?
I can poke holes in those who try to define it without the qualifications, though.
What?
You say if even I can't define it, who in this world can?
Back to square one.
I told you.
Go to the Prime Sword.
Our master.
Well.
There are probably others besides our master.
Those who forge their will into a blade and shatter the laws of the world.
Those who wield sword aura freely—if they define the sword, who would dare object?
The Sword Masters, that is.
They surely know.
What the sword truly is.
'I have no idea at all.'
Prime Sword.
Gray Wolf.
Gorein.
That was the single thought dominating their minds after witnessing Rishir's "swordsmanship."
Originally, they had prided themselves on understanding what the sword truly was.
And with that, they planned to show Rishir the path forward.
Rishir, blessed with innate talent yet neglecting swordsmanship and drifting aimlessly.
They wanted him to ponder "What is swordsmanship?" and approach the sword with a more serious mindset.
But.
The positions had reversed in an instant.
Now that Rishir's swordsmanship demonstration was over...
It was Prime Sword and his group, not Rishir, who were gripped by the question "What is swordsmanship?"
That swordsmanship Rishir had just displayed—
—Rishir. What did you call it? The name of that swordsmanship...
"It's demon swordsmanship."
—Right... demon swordsmanship... Combined with the power of magic... that was demon swordsmanship...
"Yes."
Could that "demon swordsmanship" truly be called swordsmanship?
'No!!!!!'
'This isn't swordsmanship!!!!!'
They could hear the stern cry echoing from deep within.
It stemmed from the stubborn pride of upright swordsmen.
In truth.
It wasn't even a matter of stubborn pride for upright swordsmen.
How could anyone allow magic to interfere when discussing the sword?
It was common sense applicable to all swords.
Yes.
Common sense.
Swordsmanship and magic cannot coexist.
This was an undeniable truth, with no room for debate—a self-evident principle.
Thus, no swordsman ever involved magic when discussing the sword.
And not just that.
—Rishir... that sudden surge in your energy just now...
"Ah. It's called the power of rushing advance."
—The sacred sword of rushing advance. Did you borrow the power of Wellak?
"No. It's part of my swordsmanship, utilizing the synergistic rise from Blue Breath and resonance."
—Resonance... Right, swordsmanship that employs the principles of magic.
The power of rushing advance (presumed).
That too was the same.
A dramatic surge in energy.
What a useful power.
If one could wield it, the number of techniques a swordsman could unleash would explode.
No need to mention their potency.
However.
No swordsman includes this power of rushing advance when discussing swordsmanship.
It's a realm swordsmen can't wield from the start.
The power of magic is the same.
The power of rushing advance is the same.
The power of spirits is the same.
And demon swordsmanship that unleashes all that in a single strike is the same.
The reason they could declare it not swordsmanship—
Was because it was a realm absolutely forbidden to swordsmen.
...But he's doing it?
Thus, the swordsmen fell into confusion.
If something impossible for a swordsman becomes possible, can it be called swordsmanship?
And can the one wielding it be called a swordsman?
However, if they call themselves swordsmen—
If they call it swordsmanship—
What is the swordsmanship I know?
What is the swordsman I know?
No.
What is swordsmanship to begin with?
"..."
It was the agony one could only feel after walking the path of upright swordsmanship, convinced one's own sword was correct.
They couldn't shake off that agony no matter what.
"Urk!"
"Eh?"
Gorein suddenly vomited blood out of nowhere.
Rishir rushed to him and supported his body.
"Are you okay, Gorein!?"
His disrupted thoughts had affected his mind as well.
A minor mana backlash had occurred.
"I-I'm fine... Rishir... Are you okay...? Your face is covered in blood—"
"Ah. I'm fine. Just minor overload."
"Cough!"
Gorein's mana backlash worsened, and he collapsed to the floor.
"G-Gorein!?"
Rishir panicked.
"Vomiting blood from the mouth all of a sudden... What in the world...!"
He fretted over Gorein's condition.
Blood trickling from every orifice on his face.
"I-I'm fine, Rishir..."
At that moment, Gray Wolf, Gorein's master, spoke to Rishir.
"From the looks of it... minor mana backlash... With rest and recovery... he'll be fine soon..."
"Is that so? Phew. That's a relief. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"...You said you can—cough!—handle spirits?"
"Ah, yes!"
"A spirit's energy is greatly beneficial for a weakened body and mind... Could you attach one of your spirits to this child? I'll handle my own recovery—"
"Is that okay? But my spirits were originally demons—"
"Cough!!!"
"Duke Torben!!!"
Gray Wolf followed in his disciple's footsteps.
"Aigoo, what in the world is going on!!!"
"Kek! Kek! Kek! Kek!"
"My goodness, Sir Dray! You're laughing in this situation!?"
"Uh!"
"This is driving me insane!"
Spirit energy has beneficial effects.
Recalling Gray Wolf's words, Rishir hurriedly pulled out Dangleon.
"Dangleon! Can you do it!?"
—Shall I wrap those vermin in my flames!?
"Ah! Definitely not!"
Rishir quickly put Dangleon away again.
As he hesitated, unsure what to do...
"..."
"Ah, Duke Torben!"
Torben, who had collapsed, slowly rose to his feet.
"Don't worry, Rishir. I'll take care of Duke Torben's body."
"It's Duke Ronhart!"
Prime Sword, dwelling in the Ego Sword, had temporarily shifted into Gray Wolf's body to examine it.
Of course.
He wasn't entirely immune to the aftereffects(?) of Rishir's display either, so he didn't look great.
Even so, he forced himself into Torben's body not just to check on him.
"Rishir... I have something to ask you..."
There was a conversation he needed to have face-to-face.
Prime Sword stared straight into Rishir's eyes and spoke.
"About that swordsmanship you just demonstrated..."
"Yes! You mean demon swordsmanship! Speak!"
"That's not what I mean..."
"Yes?"
What troubled Prime Sword most among the elements comprising demon swordsmanship wasn't the power of rushing advance, magic, or spirits.
It was the final motion of demon swordsmanship.
That part alone, detached, corresponded purely to swordsmanship.
In that sword, Prime Sword glimpsed a fragment of himself.
The Prime Sword Style he had refined through form and technique, strictly controlling himself—
Its ultimate essence, evolved from insights gained in battle against the Murder Ghost.
A honed instinct sometimes leads a swordsman to the optimal outcome.
To realms even refined forms and techniques couldn't reach.
Prime Sword had realized this vividly in his battle with the Murder Ghost and grasped the subtlety of blurring the line between form and instinct.
That subtlety was the core of the Prime Sword Style's ultimate essence.
And such subtlety—
Was contained within Rishir's sword as well.
'How?'
During his lifetime, Prime Sword had tirelessly tried to impart that subtlety to his disciples.
However.
Explaining it in words failed to make the body understand—
Showing it with the body failed to make the mind comprehend.
Beast-like instinct.
It was a subtlety that required an innate aptitude, perhaps antithetical to upright swordsmanship, to embody.
Was that why?
No upright swordsman had ever inherited Prime Sword—
And thus, the Prime Sword Style had faded into obsolescence.
Yet.
To encounter a fragment of the Prime Sword Style here, transcending eras.
It couldn't have been Rishir's doing alone.
'Who in the world!?'
Then who had passed it on to Rishir?
Who had unknowingly inherited the ultimate essence of Prime Sword Style?
With a trembling voice, Prime Sword asked Rishir.
"Rishir, who taught you that sword? Can you tell me about this swordsmanship master of yours?"
"Ah, the one who guided my swordsmanship? Duke Ronhart, you know her too."
"...!"
Ronhart's eyes widened greatly.
"Is that so...!"
The moment he heard Rishir's words.
The first faces that came to his mind were none other than his disciples.
Even after his death, his disciples hadn't given up and had ultimately realized the subtlety of Prime Sword Style.
The foundation of upright swordsmanship.
That will.
It had clearly continued unbroken even after Prime Sword's death.
Tears of emotion trickled from Prime Sword's wrinkled eyes.
Prime Sword felt his body lighten.
The sensation of liberation from all worries and regrets was incomparable.
The side effect of witnessing Rishir's swordsmanship. The mana backlash.
None of it mattered anymore.
Prime Sword's lips trembled with emotion.
With a voice carrying that tremor, he asked Rishir.
"Will you tell me your master's name...?"
"Klana. The Blue Lotus Klana."
"...Cough!"
"Duke Ronhart!?"
Prime Sword's mana backlash rapidly worsened, following the other two.
"Rishir! Incredible...!"
At that moment, Dray approached Rishir and grabbed his shoulder.
As if shedding tears of emotion(?) like Prime Sword.
Dray's eyes were also moist.
"Incredible? What do you mean?"
"You took down those two Sword Masters all by yourself!"
"Ah."
Is this my fault?
Rishir looked at the three collapsed men with a complicated expression.
Afterward.
Rishir moved the unconscious swordsmen to beds and made arrangements for their recovery.
And then passed out.
It was the aftermath of pushing demon swordsmanship to its limits to "subdue" the three swordsmen(?).
Rishir regained consciousness the next afternoon.
—Young master! Wake up!!! It's not time to sleep off your hangover!
Awakened by the baby spirit's spirited urging, he first conversed with Klana.
"...So, it looks like we'll have to put off learning Prime Sword's swordsmanship. Honestly, judging by their reactions to my swordsmanship, even if they recover, I doubt there'll be much gain. Sorry, Klana. You were stuck in isolation all those days for nothing.
—Isolation? We barely even talked. Besides, I was the one pushing you to accept his offer, so don't worry about it.
"Frankly, I was surprised. You, urging me to learn someone else's sword. Is his sword that impressive?"
—He and his disciple teamed up, but he still killed me.
"The sword that killed you, Klana. Saying it like that makes me interested again."
—You're insane.
"Ah, not like that—"
—Never mind. And now, you can lose interest in his sword.
"Pardon? Changed your mind already?"
—I thought about it, and I've pretty much stolen everything worth stealing. Learning more from him would just be pointless repetition. Plus, a sword that causes mana backlash just from seeing your demon swordsmanship won't help you.
"Thinking about it, yeah. After all, your sword suits me best.
—...I'll let you grope my body's breasts once you enter the barrier.
It was like giving candy, but the line didn't match.
"What crazy talk out of nowhere?"
The next afternoon.
Palag finally returned to the mansion, having briefly left for Klana's resurrection ritual.
Accompanied by one other person.
A woman whose dark-circled eyes and sunken cheeks created a sinister impression.
"And this is...?"
As Rishir spoke to Palag to greet her, the woman answered instead.
"You don't need to know."
"Pardon?"
"No point in knowing."
Rishir sensed a certain yin energy from her.
Probably from living in underground tombs—such aura would seep into one's body.
Whether her words were true, Palag nodded to Rishir.
The woman then continued.
"First, let's check the state of that barrier and body."
They moved to the room with the coffin and entered the barrier.
The Murder Ghost's body still lay abandoned there.
The woman immediately approached it.
She probed the body here and there with her bony hands.
Then examined the interior of the barrier and spoke to Palag.
"As expected. Just as I thought."
"...Is that so."
"Yes. The barrier, the body— the central ritual is too unstable. If any external factor intervenes with that body in this state, the ritual will collapse immediately."
"Is there... a solution?"
At Palag's question, the woman examined the Murder Ghost's body once more and shook her head.
"No. Essentially, that's what I'd say."
"Essentially? Sounds like there might be a way?"
"Yes. As you said, there is a method. But it won't satisfy the conditions before the barrier collapses."
"How much time until the barrier collapses?"
"Not that little—if left untouched, it should hold for at least a few days."
"Then?"
"A few days is nowhere near enough."
Problem from the start.
The woman broached the subject.
"First, we need a mediator imbued with strong spiritual power to sustain the bond between flesh and soul in place of the unstable ritual."
"Such as?"
"Hmm. A necromancer's core? Treasures shamans hide away? I don't know exactly. Normally, we'd have to create one anew. Pouring in massive time and money."
"..."
Palag's expression crumpled upon hearing the woman.
Finding such an item would require scouring the continent for months or years.
Thus, Palag said.
"Rishir, do you perhaps have something like that?"
"Shamans... Would something like this work?"
Rishir began rummaging in his pocket.
It looked like he was pulling out a coin.
The woman scowled fiercely.
If it were hidden in a dungeon's deepest secret vault or safe, maybe.
But if it were something to fish out from a pocket like that, would she have said such a thing?
"Palag. Are you joking with me right n—"
At that moment, the woman's words cut off.
Rummage, rummage.
Rishir pulled out a high-grade spirit core from his pocket.
"That...!"
"Ah, not this one."
"..."
Rummage, rummage.
Rishir pulled out the next item.
It was the black orb he had received as an "offering" from the crow.
"No way..."
Recognizing its true nature, the woman strained her hollow eyes.
The state of that pocket?