Chapter 436
Chapter 436
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 436
Chapter Title: The Remaining Path
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Paths came into view. Countless, innumerable paths.
Starting from a single root, they branched out into hundreds, thousands of directions. Like the limbs of a great tree. Staring at those countless paths, Kalt moved. One step forward. Pouring his strength into it.
Thud.
One step. The instant he took it, half the paths vanished. He let out a long breath. Another half disappeared. He lightly gripped the hilt of his sword. Halves upon halves upon halves vanished again, until only a single path remained.
Kalt dragged his sword low.
Moonlight sword aura scattered a faint glow.
Tap.
The first step planted heavily, securing his stance. The second stepped lightly. The third kicked off the ground and surged forward. Kalt rode the sword path.
And then, the moment of clash approached.
Kuntel's sword, aligned straight with the lofty sky, came falling down. A swing from above to below. The most basic sword technique, the first motion any swordsman learns upon grasping a blade.
The fundamentals.
This single swing, repeated beyond count, was Kuntel's most powerful strike. The moment the sword swung, all sounds vanished. The drip of blood droplets. The tap of kicking the earth. Even the thud of the soaring rock piles crashing down—all gone.
In the silence, the only sound was the slice of severing.
The landscape split in half.
Rushing in with the cleaving scenery was a silver-white incision line. Kalt knew that incision, that technique. It was born from humanity's obsession to slice what could not be cut, its name as plain as could be.
Severance.
A strike reaching the extreme of the concept of cutting hurtled toward him.
'No, it's not.'
The moment he faced Kuntel's ultimate technique, Kalt gritted his teeth.
When Kuntel had raised his sword, Kalt hadn't understood it. Even knowing the Severance technique, why? Kuntel immediately provided the answer to that question.
'It's not a single strike.'
The sword that fell like a guillotine cleaved the earth and soared toward the sky. The sword's path didn't end in one strike—it continued unbroken. With every step Kalt took forward, Kuntel's sword drew another line.
Not a single strike, but linked strikes.
Countless incision lines assaulted him. Like a storm.
Facing the approaching death, Kalt unwittingly burst into laughter. Yes, this is it. This is the you I've aimed for. Nothing goes as expected. But that's precisely why...
'It has meaning.'
Toppling your perfection gives it meaning.
Kalt kicked off the ground without hesitation. He swung his sword toward the oncoming incision lines. Even now, the path he saw held no tremor.
Craaaaaang!
Sword met sword.
Life clashed against life.
2.
Toward the incision line slicing through air and space, Kalt swung his sword. The softly curving swing touched the severance, and a crack echoed from Kalt's fingers.
A slender sword aura, yet impossibly heavy.
Too heavy to deflect. Unable to deflect, it must be parried. Without hesitation, Kalt pulled back his sword. Tilting it diagonally, he swung along the unwavering path.
Shwaaaaa!
A sound like parting rushing waters rang out. The diagonally deflected severance swept past Kalt, ravaging elsewhere. Parrying the strike, Kalt took one step forward. The instant he did, Kuntel swung twice.
Sword strikes, incision lines, sword aura.
A wave of slashes crashed down.
Facing the flooding onslaught, Kalt swung his sword. His blade unwavering, his eyes unclosed, the path he saw remained steady.
...Back in the Grail's trial, when he'd faced Severance, Kalt had yielded part of his body to press on. This Severance was sharper, heavier still.
'But.'
Kalt smiled.
'No need for that this time.'
Only blood flowed away.
The creak in his fingers was only at first; now, the hand wrapped around the hilt didn't twitch. As if fused as one with the sword.
...You wouldn't know.
That I've seen a scene like this once before. That I learned from that experience. That to receive your sword, I've prepared for situations like this dozens, hundreds of times.
Shwaaaaa!
Another sound of parting waters rang out. Kalt's sword gleamed with moonlight, and the pooled blood at his feet reflected the full moon. Full moon. Like moonlight on a lake, Kalt's sword aura rippled like waves.
Softly. Like flowing currents. Like dancing.
If Kuntel's sword path advanced straight and resolute, Kalt's was a winding one. Kalt swung his sword and stepped forward. Kuntel's blade traced a path one-and-a-half times longer.
Catching up. Slowly.
A lone man amid the crashing waves of slashes rode the current. Swinging in curves. Performing a sword dance. Another step like a dance. This time, Kuntel swung only once.
Shwaaaaa!
The path Kalt carved parted the waves.
He advanced. Ever onward.
Before long, their speeds matched.
No, not matched. Little by little, Kalt's breathing began to overtake Kuntel's. With each parried Severance, Kalt's sword grew simpler. Finding the efficient path.
Kiiiiing!
Now, he even redirected it outright.
The Severance bent by Kalt's swing collided with Kuntel's next. Amid the canceling clashes, Kalt stepped forward. The situation reversed.
When Kalt took two steps, Kuntel swung once. Then three steps to one. Four to one... How many times did it repeat?
Finally.
Craaaaaaaaang!
Finally, the clash of blades rang out. Now, Kalt stood before Kuntel. The moment the moonlit sword met Kuntel's, auras collided, warping space.
For a moment, sounds of contracting and expanding air echoed, then the two auras evaporated. With the auras gone, only two blades remained. No superhuman special swords—just ordinary human blades.
Clang, clang. Clang!
Metal clashed against metal.
In this moment of basic strikes tearing at each other, no super senses, no sword auras, no special powers existed here.
Ka-gagak!
Not two superhumans, but two stubborn swordsmen. The sharp ring of steel on steel. Too plain for a clash of sword saints.
Sguk.
Kuntel's blade swung diagonally from above to below. Aiming for Kalt's shoulder. From right shoulder to left waist—a bisecting slash. Countering was Kalt's upward flick from below.
The instant swords met, Kalt's blade was pushed back.
He couldn't win in raw power. Kalt had known that. Predicted it. Thus, the moment blades touched, Kalt twisted his body. Pivoting on his forward foot, a half-turn.
Deflecting Kuntel's sword in a crescent arc.
The opening created. No way to miss it.
The crescent blade drew a full circle arc. Hero's body, apostate's masterpiece—such flimsy things meant nothing now.
Slice.
The sword touching Kuntel's right side cut through black blood, emerging from his left shoulder. One stroke, two halves. Immediately, black blood fountained.
At the end of the path he'd walked, Kalt surpassed his master.
3.
Clang.
Spilling blood, Kuntel's body tilted. The dropped sword hit the ground with a racket. As Kuntel knelt and collapsed, Kalt too hacked out his blocked breath.
Blood burst from his eyes, nose, mouth.
The price of moving beyond limits.
His legs felt ready to give out any second, but he couldn't allow it. Barely staying upright, Kalt regulated his breathing. Exhaled long.
"...Hoo."
Exhaling, Kalt looked at his feet.
There knelt Kuntel. His body crumbling. Drip, drip—Kuntel's arm fell away. The forcibly pieced-together flesh detached piece by piece, leaving Kuntel's true body.
The body that had met death at Ganikalt's hands.
Severed by the Sword of Death, it had been barely stitched with the apostate's vines. That body bore not just the Sword of Death's marks, but Kalt's sword scars too. Slowly, very slowly, Kuntel rose.
...How, with that body?
Kalt gritted his teeth. Trying to swing the unmoving sword-arm, but locking eyes with the rising Kuntel froze him solid.
One eye melted into black sludge, leaving a one-eyed elder. Yet that eye wasn't one a calamity familiar would show. A human eye. One Kalt knew well.
Grip.
Kuntel reached out, clutching the vines binding his body. Ripping the apostate's vines away, his body crumbled rapidly. Shattering flesh. Kuntel looked at Kalt.
"..., ......"
He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.
Then, realizing no voice came, Kuntel smiled bitterly. Slowly reaching out, he patted Kalt's shoulder. No voice, but Kalt read the lips.
Well done, Kalt.
With those words, Kuntel's body crumbled to dust. Scattered like ash. Finally embracing the death and rest he'd always deserved.
Swish.
The wind blew the bone dust away.
Kalt turned, watching it scatter. Sword Canyon, Galatric. Now a sword's grave, where Kuntel's remains dispersed.
...Though this was merely a recreation of Sword Canyon from Kuntel's memories, he met a proper death here—where he'd first grasped a sword. Returning to his longed-for home for rest.
Kalt watched for a long while.
For a long time, Kalt stood in place.
Kalt moved when cracks split the scenery. The Sword Canyon, recreated from Kuntel's memories, began collapsing with his death as the trigger.
Gazing at the crumbling Sword Canyon scenery, Kalt raised his arm one last time in sword salute.
...To the proud swordsman, Kuntel.
Kalt sheathed his sword.
Staggering beyond the collapsing scenery, Kalt took a step.