Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Fate 8: At the Boundary Line
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Master...?
The young Swordmaster realized it, belatedly.
The reason his master had let him go.
The quality he himself had lacked.
He recalled his master's sword.
The imagery contained within that sword resembled a withered flower.
The Swordmaster had not known its meaning.
But now, he felt he understood.
It was an unquenchable thirst.
Dry as it was, it deserved to be quenched.
If the thirst could not be sated no matter how much it was quenched, then one simply had to enjoy the thirst itself.
The wastrel attained enlightenment.
He was no longer a wastrel.
"Whoa..."
Pym, the owner of the armory shop 'Blue Steel Sword'.
She let out an involuntary gasp of admiration at the spectacle unfolding before her eyes.
For a weapon forged by her own hands to be wielded by a great swordsman and make its name known.
It was the greatest honor and dream for any dwarf.
That was why dwarves took such interest in the swordsman race.
The Swordmaster's outer sword.
The one and only blade he stubbornly clung to.
It was one of the things that drove dwarves mad with excitement.
So when that outer sword had come to her shop seeking advice on weapons, Pym had nearly lost her mind.
The outer sword's beloved blade.
And to think that blade was an ego sword.
What's more, that ego sword was his master!
Pym's small body trembled with excitement.
Just the information she'd gleaned so far was enough to make her head spin.
She barely restrained herself from rushing to the tavern where dwarves gathered and boasting about it all.
And then, one more piece of new information was added.
"The outer sword's master has taken on a new disciple...?"
An enormous bombshell that made all the previous shocking info seem trivial!
The ego sword that the outer sword revered as master had abandoned him and taken a new disciple.
A young whippersnapper who looked like a mage, no less!!!
Pym watched the scene before her with hot breaths puffing out, utterly enthralled.
"..."
The outer sword's reluctance to accept it only fueled the dwarf's excitement.
He had been standing there dazed since moments ago, unable to recover from the shock.
"...No."
At last, the outer sword murmured firmly.
The Swordmaster's flesh emanated a spirit brimming with hostility.
"Ooh...!!!"
The dwarf girl's eyes sparkled mercilessly.
The Swordmaster's composure cracking.
It was an utterly rare sight.
She stared piercingly at the face of the man responsible for this grand spectacle.
'Just who the hell is he!?'
The face of the nameless 'genius swordsman' who had earned recognition from the outer sword's master and stirred jealousy in the outer sword himself.
Rodan stared into Rishir's two eyes.
He was the most intriguing person Rodan had encountered lately.
Finding cultists hiding in the city was as tricky as finding a needle in a haystack.
If Rodan had been in Rishir's position, could he have thwarted Dranof's plan like that?
Probably not.
If not for him, High Priest Dranof of the White Shadow Church would never have had his plan stopped.
Thus, Rodan acknowledged it.
He had no intention of denying that Rishir was an extraordinary individual.
However.
That was separate from this.
'Master...!'
The nameless someone contained within the ego sword.
Yes.
A nameless someone.
Rodan still didn't even know her name.
Moreover, she had never once treated Rodan as a disciple.
She had never given him direct instruction even once.
A sword imbued with hazy will.
That indirect teaching, left like homework, was the entirety of what she had given Rodan.
Even so, Rodan revered her as his one and only master.
Thanks to the power she gave him, he had broken through the wall to the 8th realm.
Thanks to her, he had escaped his mother's shadow.
Now that he had fulfilled his long-held wish to escape his mother's shadow.
Rodan's sole remaining desire was to earn her recognition.
He vowed it.
He would solve the homework she left behind, receive her teachings, and be reborn as a proper disciple.
Sudden parting came before all those wishes could come true.
A sword that no longer drew from its sheath.
Her voice that no longer rang out.
An indefinite farewell and absence.
They had driven Rodan's mind to its limits.
To the point where the arrogant Swordmaster willingly approached the cultists and bowed his head to them.
And amid all that, news of his master finally reached him through another's lips.
News that the master who had abandoned and left him had taken a new disciple.
That made the implications of the situation crystal clear.
His master had completely discarded him and found a new disciple to replace him.
"No way that's true."
How could he accept it?
How could he acknowledge it?
Rodan's iron will manifested in the wrong direction.
He branded the man before him a deceiver and harbored not a shred of doubt.
"Rishir. I misjudged you. You're just this worthless?"
Clear contempt curled Rodan's twisted lips.
"You assured me you could help and took your price. But contrary to your expectations, your little friends were useless, and now you're in a bind over the aftermath. So the solution you came up with is this? Lying that you hear my master's voice. Isn't it?"
"..."
Instead of answering, Rishir held out the sword in his hand toward him.
-Sching
The sword slid effortlessly from its sheath without resistance.
"...!"
Rodan's pupils shook, but only briefly.
"Master."
He addressed the sword.
"Master."
Her voice did not come.
And not only that.
Even if her voice didn't reach him, the presence he had clearly felt before.
That presence was gone.
An unprecedented ripple surged through the Swordmaster's inner world.
His perfectly controlled breathing faltered with rage.
"You..."
Gasp!
The dwarf girl, who had been watching with sparkling eyes, unconsciously held her breath.
She couldn't move her gaze.
It was as if she were naked in the middle of a snowy plain, surrounded by a pack of wolves.
A killing intent thick enough to take form dominated the entire space.
"..."
Rodan's next words followed.
"What have you done to my master...?"
His hand hovered around the sword at his waist.
Klana.
She watched the entire situation from her inner world with satisfaction.
A good flow.
Rodan's arrogant and stubborn personality.
And his obsession with her.
She was certain.
No voice would reach Rodan's ears now.
This bastard could never persuade Rodan.
The best scenario played out in Klana's mind.
Rishir dying by Rodan's hand.
Escape from this horrific situation and space was not far off.
Klana's lips curved in anticipation.
"I'll ask one last time. What have you done to my master? Speak."
"...As I've said many times, I did nothing to your master."
If Rishir had shown even the slightest fluster or hesitation, Rodan would have subdued him without delay.
But.
Even in this moment, Rishir's demeanor remained utterly calm, without a hint of disturbance.
'Show weakness, and I die.'
Rishir had already figured out how to deal with someone like Rodan.
He poured all his strength into feigning composure.
"..."
Hesitation crept into Rodan's attitude.
Klana cried out in frustration, but of course, her voice didn't reach Rodan.
"I merely spoke the facts as they are. Your master urged me to become her disciple."
"..."
True to his word, Rishir spoke only the unvarnished truth.
His attitude was simply confident, and Rodan found himself swayed by it.
"Why..."
Thus, Rishir succeeded in drawing out a gap in his far stronger opponent.
A gap in the heart.
Through it, Rishir glimpsed into Rodan's inner world.
He realized the emotion driving him now was not anger, but fear.
Persuading someone dominated by anger is excruciatingly difficult.
But persuading someone dominated by fear?
Surprisingly simple.
At least, that's how Rishir saw it.
So he acted without hesitation.
"In truth, all of this was for your sake."
"...What?"
Rishir's mind raced at high speed.
What is the best scenario I can create right now?
And what do I need to create that best scenario?
Rishir's attention naturally turned to her.
The culprit behind all this.
The killer ghost occupying his inner world—
No, the ego sword that had become bound to him.
"..."
It was then.
Rishir felt a certain power bound to him along with the ego sword.
One possibility flashed through Rishir's mind.
He immediately unleashed the power of the ego sword.
"That—"
Astonishment filled Rodan's eyes.
A faint imagery emanated from the blue lotus Rishir held.
A withered flower.
"Master...?"
Rodan uttered the name unconsciously as he gazed at Rishir.
For it was unmistakably his master's sword.
Klana's words choked off abruptly.
She had no memory of permitting this bastard to use her sword.
Yet how was he manifesting her sword?
"Master— Master!!! Are you there!?"
Rodan's desperation spurred Klana's frustration.
"Yes. She is here, listening to your words. Borrowing my body to leave you her final teaching."
"What does that... final teaching mean... Huh?"
Rodan stared blankly at Rishir's sword.
No, at his master's sword.
His eyes widened.
The imagery in the sword was changing moment by moment.
The withered flower drank in vitality and bloomed fully.
"She said... you are far from blood. You will never become a sword that craves blood."
A pang of conscience followed the flexible interpretation.
A trace of deception showed on Rishir's face for the first time.
But Rodan couldn't read it now.
His mind was consumed by the first warm words his master had ever given him.
By the first teaching his master had ever given him.
Klana screamed.
Rodan mulled over his master's words.
"A sword that craves blood... I cannot become."
The Swordmaster Outer Sword.
He finally took the action he had hesitated on until the very last moment.
He drew not his signature ego sword, but another blade.
Thus, Rodan closed his eyes with sword in hand.
Calmly sinking into his inner world.
His mother's shadow.
His master's shadow.
He took time to face himself, free from all those things.
In truth.
He was a man far removed from Rishir's interpretation.
His heart was neither fully evil nor fully good.
An arrogant wastrel.
That was the essence he was born with, the self he now held.
However. He desired his master's teachings more than anything.
Such warm teachings from his master were more than enough to shift his perspective.
'I...'
The self Rodan confronted within was turbid and filthy.
It was a form that betrayed his master's faith.
Rodan felt ashamed.
Thus, he denied it.
That was not his true self.
If he wished it, he could change anytime.
There was no reason to doubt.
His master's faith surely had basis.
"..."
Rodan opened his eyes again, and the sword he held entered his view.
A sword containing a fully bloomed flower, filled without the slightest lack.
The wastrel attained enlightenment.
He was no longer a wastrel.
"Master..."
Rodan gazed at the blue lotus with serene eyes.
It was then.
The imagery in the blue lotus began to fade.
Seeing it, Rodan thought it resembled a faint smile fitting for a farewell.
Thus, Rodan too wore a faint smile in response to his master.
Rishir lowered the sword accordingly.
"Master, thank you for everything until now."
Rodan bid his master farewell.
Master and disciple.
A clean parting with no lingering attachments from either side.
Corresponding privileges will be granted.
The voice roused Klana from her despair.
Just when he wanted to delve deep into the sword, a precious(?) connection had come knocking.
Rishir smiled brightly.
The killer ghost. Feeling the emotion of fear for the first time.