The Man Called the Sword Saint
The Man Called the Sword Saint
There was a man called Sword Immortal, or the Flawless One.
It was a daily sight for players to bear wounds and scars upon their bodies. Life in the Tower was a constant struggle, after all.
But this man was the exception.
From the moment he first entered the Tower until now, no one had ever seen him injured. As if he were a lofty Divine Being.
Some claimed he had acquired a legendary defense artifact. They argued that since he possessed an invincible shield capable of blocking all attacks, he could not possibly be wounded.
Some claimed he was from a US secret special forces unit. The main evidence was that Sword Immortal had displayed overwhelming strength from the moment he entered the Tower, and no ordinary person could wield a sword that well.
Some claimed he was the Hero's beloved concubine. The story went that the Hero, in her desire to protect her lover, lavished all kinds of spiritual elixirs upon him, and as a result, a monster was born who could recover in an instant even from major injuries.
A vast quantity of rumors mixed with a few truths, so opinions were divided on his true identity, yet there was one fact everyone agreed upon.
Sword Immortal was strong. Terrifyingly, overwhelmingly strong.
Since he roamed alone without forming a party, his true skill was shrouded in mystery, but the experiences of countless rankers served as evidence backing his strength.
Some connoisseurs even considered him the true strongest being in the Tower. Even now, in some tavern somewhere, people were probably arguing loudly about who was stronger: Sword Immortal or the Hero.
So, what was the man called Sword Immortal doing right now, and where?
**
In a forest on the upper floors of the Tower, where no one had ever set foot before.
The man was seated upon the corpse of a tiger the size of a house, wiping the blood from his sword.
He rubbed the cloth against the blade with an expressionless face.
There was not a single wound on his body, not even a drop of blood splattered on him, which contrasted with the utterly blood-soaked forest, creating a mysterious atmosphere.
'The Flawless One.' A perfection without even the slightest blemish. It was a title that suited him remarkably well.
Of course, it would have been nice if the prologue had ended here...
While wiping his sword, the man flinched.
A tiny droplet of blood beaded on his hand.
"Ah."
It seemed his hand got slightly cut by the grip while cleaning the sword with the cloth.
For an ordinary person, it was a wound small enough to laugh off, but...
[Damage received.]
[Returning to the time of first entry to the 44th Floor.]
"...Fuck."
The man was in a position where he absolutely could not be injured.
Absolutely not.