'This Is......'
Yoahim stared blankly at the wooden sword glowing with purple light, then turned his head. He slowly walked toward the straw dummy in the training grounds.
It was a sudden withdrawal in the middle of sparring, but Terriot said nothing, simply watching what he did.
Yoahim approached the dummy and raised the wooden sword high above his head. Then—whoosh.
Slash.
A sound like cutting paper rang out. The dummy, which wouldn't have budged even after hundreds of strikes with the wooden sword, split cleanly in two and tumbled limply to the ground.
This is sword aura......
Only then did Yoahim realize he had succeeded. The purple light enveloping the wooden sword—that was his sword aura.
But it's not a perfect success.
Of course, he was thrilled to be able to use sword aura. It was an incredible achievement. But was it a satisfying one? No, not quite.
Yoahim thought coldly. His sword aura was only half-baked. It was fundamentally different from normal sword aura.
I just consumed mana with that attack.
He had felt a bit of his mana drain the moment he slashed the dummy. That was because his sword aura possessed both magical and sword aura properties simultaneously.
Swordmasters created sword aura using mana from their bodies. But the consumed mana returned to the body once the sword aura was dismissed. Except in cases where powerful attacks forcibly evaporated it, mana circulated between the sword and body, maintaining a constant amount.
But not mine.
Yoahim's sword aura evaporated mana upon colliding with objects while cutting them. It then drew fresh mana from his body to sustain itself. In terms of mechanism, it resembled magic.
It was only natural, since he had fused magic into swordsmanship from the start to create this sword aura.
Can I handle the mana consumption?
Consuming mana with every swing was undoubtedly a drawback. And it wasn't a small amount.
But there are advantages too.
A sword aura born from fusing swordsmanship and magic wasn't without merits. Because it had magical properties, Yoahim's sword aura was freely malleable.
For example, he could adjust the mana to increase cutting power or intensity. He could also control its length or imbue it with attributes like fire or wind.
I'll refine it step by step.
The method by which Yoahim had awakened his sword aura wasn't wrong. It was just new, so there would be some trial and error. Minimize the drawbacks, maximize the strengths.
Yoahim knew this freshly awakened sword aura would become his reliable weapon.
"In over two hundred years of living, you're the first bastard like you I've seen."
At Terriot's voice, Yoahim turned. Terriot, chuckling in disbelief, dismissed the sword aura from his own wooden sword and spoke.
"There aren't many geniuses in the world. I'm no genius myself, but I've crossed blades with countless ones called that. Now I see I was wrong."
Ptoo. Ptoo.
Terriot spat out the dust that had blown into his mouth on the wind. Grimacing, he looked at Yoahim and said,
"Fuck, those guys weren't geniuses. Just cocky pretenders who thought they were hot shit. You're the genius. No, ha, this is ridiculous. Does this even make sense? Most people train their whole lives and might barely manifest sword aura. But you—not even a lifetime, not decades, not years—just three weeks, and you pulled it off. Ha, still can't believe it."
Terriot let out hollow laughs, truly dumbfounded. He had told Yoahim that if he rolled with him to the death, he might awaken sword aura—but he never thought he'd actually do it.
He figured the sparring would at least give him a glimpse into swordsmanship principles. He thought true manifestation would come after clashing with many more foes and endless training.
But Yoahim possessed far more monstrous talent than he'd imagined.
If Yoahim could wield sword aura in just three weeks, what did that make him, who'd honed his skills for over two centuries? Strictly speaking, it hadn't taken exactly three weeks. Yoahim had trained before that, even wielded a sword before entering the Withered Land. That foundation led to this success—but three weeks was still absurdly short.
What made this impossible feat possible was talent. Ridiculous talent. Innate overwhelming genius as Kallagon's apostle.
"......Everyone going on about 'Apostle this, Apostle that,' I wondered just how great you could be."
Terriot burst into laughter—hahahat. There was no jealousy toward this junior nearly two centuries his junior catching up in three weeks. Instead, it was a refreshing laugh that cleared his chest.
The old must eventually step aside. Make way for the young and watch them forge a new world.
And Yoahim would lead them as the vanguard opening a new era.
"I see why Haellagos took you in. Impressive. You have real talent. And you'll grow even stronger with time."
Terriot approached and patted Yoahim's shoulder firmly. His grip conveyed encouragement and expectation for the one who would usher in a new age.
Yoahim smiled, watching Terriot's receding back.
These three weeks—short if short, long if long—had certainly meant something to him.
"Old man."
"What now?"
"Honestly, when I first saw you, I thought you were senile."
"......Look at you talking. Should've played crazy and killed you right then."
"But you're not. You're actually a decent guy. Just rough around the edges. At your age, tone down that temper."
Terriot flipped him off over his shoulder. Yoahim grinned at the sight.
"Old man, I learned a lot thanks to you. Thanks. Live long and healthy."
"Why the formal talk now? Don't like it—stick to casual."
"Yeah, alright. Take care."
"Crazy bastard."
Terriot chuckled softly too. He waved lightly and left the training grounds.
Yoahim watched his back until he was gone.
He'd never once claimed to be a master, but Terriot was undoubtedly Yoahim's teacher. Even if he taught nothing directly, Yoahim had learned much from him.
"So, what now."
Yoahim stared at the sword aura still clinging to his wooden sword. Now that he'd somehow managed it, there was plenty to experiment with.
How much could he boost the cutting power? Conversely, how much would reducing intensity weaken it? And if he ramped up intensity, how much would cutting power drop? With no references for this new type of sword aura, he'd have to figure it out himself.
Yoahim pondered twisting the mana to form a flaming sword.
And at that moment—pattering footsteps. Followed by barking.
"Apostle!"
"What, a dog?"
"It's not a dog—it's a wolfman!"
Charging speedily into the training grounds was Haellagos's hound, Eliya. He still looked like a dog no matter how you sliced it.
"Looks like you're here for me. What's up?"
"Haellagos is summoning the Apostle! Hurry!"
It had been a while since the last summons. Yoahim nodded without much thought, and Eliya wagged his plump butt, urging him on.
But alas, Eliya was fated not to go with Yoahim.
"Ah! It's Eliya!"
"Eliya!"
Kelcia and Sasha, on a short break, spotted him and rushed over. They grabbed Eliya, rubbing his cheeks and squealing.
"N-No! Not now! I have to go back to Haellagos with the Apostle right away!"
Eliya shouted desperately, but they ignored him. Yoahim chuckled softly and left alone.
"Loyalty! We greet the Apostle!"
"Yeah, good work."
He exchanged light greetings with the guards at the Spire Tower, then boarded the inter-floor lift. In an instant, he arrived at Haellagos's floor and walked the long corridor to the round table.
"You've come."
"No paperwork today?"
For once, Haellagos wasn't buried in documents. It was a first since arriving here, so Yoahim let out an impressed oho.
Haellagos smiled back.
"Even I need days like this sometimes. Apostle, I hear you've been sparring with Terriot lately. I meant to save your master, but you did it yourself."
"It just happened."
"Any achievements?"
Instead of words, Yoahim drew his sword and showed the sword aura. Haellagos smiled in satisfaction.
"As expected of Kallagon's apostle. Impressive progress. But don't grow arrogant from this—refine it further. You'll face countless powerful foes one day."
Yoahim knew that too. The world held many stronger than him—or even Haellagos. Clashes were inevitable in the fight for Kallagon's resurrection.
Worst case, it'd be fighting Radius or Liana.
Holy knights and saintesses stood at the opposite end from dark knights. He needed to prepare for the possibility.
"So why'd you call me today?"
Haellagos never summoned him for personal chats, so this wasn't just for banter. As Yoahim pressed, Haellagos pressed his eyelids and spoke.
"Three months have passed since the war with Alzahar began."
Precisely three months and three weeks since Yoahim, as vanguard, toppled Levia Castle. It wasn't short—meaningful results were needed to justify it all.
Yoahim swallowed unconsciously. He had a feeling what Haellagos would say.
"Our forces have won victory after victory, crushing Alzahar's. We've even accepted those surrendering at the sound of your name. Alzahar's remnants are but a handful now. Only Biljera Castle remains to fall."
Only Biljera Castle left. What that meant—
Haellagos's purple eyes gleamed as he stared straight at Kallagon's apostle.
"We go to sever the enemy's last breath. Shatter that wicked lich's phylactery and grant him true death. Then we shall reign as true lords of the Withered Land."
Apostle, fulfill your duty.
The great demon declared.
"It's time to march, Apostle."
Yoahim had no idea what expression he wore in that moment.