Chapter 83
Chapter 83
"Lighten your footsteps. Your heel only needs to touch the ground for the brief moment you push off."
"It's still unnatural. Focus more on the coordinated movement of your ankle and toes. There—"
The hours of reprimands gradually lessened over time.
And as he watched Logan's movements transform with each piece of advice, the Sword Duke allowed himself a faint smile.
'Truly remarkable talent.'
In just a few hours, Logan had moved beyond mere imitation—he was absorbing the technique as if it were second nature.
After decades of failing to find a worthy successor for Ghost's Shadow, perhaps this young man was the one he had been waiting for.
'Had I heard this from someone else, I wouldn't have believed it.'
Though inwardly astonished, his outward tone remained stern.
"Still sluggish. Move lightly, but let your Force flow heavily! Push off with your toes as if propelling your entire body. And—"
Excessive praise was poison to genius.
That was why, for the past month, he had relentlessly pointed out flaws—not just in swordsmanship, but in humility.
Of course...
'Though strangely, he already seems to think himself lacking.'
There was no harm in humility.
Hiding his proud smile, the Sword Duke continued urging Logan onward.
Several more hours passed.
Eventually, even the Sword Duke could no longer find fault in Logan's movements.
Swish.
Without a single sound, Logan's body left afterimages as he slid dozens of meters.
It wasn't quite on the level of the Sword Duke's instantaneous, space-defying movement, but to any onlooker, it would have seemed as though a silent ghost had streaked across the ground.
"Good. Now all that's left is for you to refine and internalize it. Well done!"
Despite his lifelong secret technique being unraveled in less than five hours, the Sword Duke's expression was nothing but pleased.
He had tried to withhold praise, but this time, he couldn't help himself.
Yet Logan, having stopped moving, wore a puzzled expression, lost in thought.
"Hm? Is something wrong? Did you injure yourself internally—?"
"Ah, no, Master."
"Then why that look?"
"Well... It's an incredible movement technique, no doubt. I can feel that I'm at least twice as fast as before. But this doesn't seem like something a knight would create. It feels more like..."
"An assassin's technique?"
The Sword Duke chuckled, as if he already knew what Logan was thinking.
Logan hesitated slightly before nodding.
And then—
"You're not entirely wrong."
The unexpected answer made Logan's eyes widen.
"Back when His Majesty was still the crown prince... he appointed me, a newly knighted fool, as his personal guard. Did you know that?"
"...Yes."
"And though it's not widely known, His Majesty had many political enemies even before ascending the throne. He endured experiences too terrible to speak of."
"..."
"Assassins came endlessly. And in the midst of it all, the young fool who had been so elated at being named a Royal Knight ended up shedding more blood than he ever had on the front lines."
Logan could easily picture it—a golden-haired youth, decades younger than now, standing before the throne, drenched in blood.
"To protect someone alone, to cut down the swarming enemies, that fool imagined endlessly. He dreamed of moving faster and more silently than any assassin, of mastering a swordsmanship that could dominate space with a single stroke."
"Ah..."
"At first, it was an impossible goal. But before he knew it, that fool had created Pressure Wave and mastered Sonic Blade. Only after achieving Ghost's Shadow did he feel he had come close. And it was then that he awakened his Aura."
The catalyst for the Sword Duke's Aura awakening. In other words—
"Ghost's Shadow is the crystallization of the swordsmanship that made me an Aura User. Even I consider it a miracle. Don't grow complacent just because you've grasped the theory—train it alongside your swordsmanship for life. I myself still don't believe I've seen its limits."
"...Understood."
The path to transcendence.
What swordsman wouldn't feel their heart race at those words?
Logan suppressed his pounding chest and bowed respectfully—
"And..."
His master hesitated slightly, his tone shifting.
"There's another reason I stopped you from leaving."
"Huh?"
"Have you ever heard of the Third Prince?"
For a moment, Logan nearly gasped aloud.
The possibility of the face-stamping he had given up on suddenly loomed before him.
"The Third Prince?"
He answered as calmly as possible, barely managing to keep his expression neutral.
But the Sword Duke seemed to misinterpret his reaction, speaking apologetically.
"Yes. Of course, I know you've refused all faction invitations. It might seem odd for me, who's claimed neutrality, to make such a suggestion..."
'No need. I already know.'
Logan smiled faintly as he listened to his master's cautious words.
The leader of the neutral faction, who had sworn loyalty to the future king to save the Third Prince's life—Felix Esperanza, the Sword Duke.
Logan already knew his story well.
Neutral in name, but in truth...
'You must be hoping the Third Prince, blessed with kingly talent, will take the throne over those madmen, the First and Second Princes.'
Perhaps the neutral faction centered around the Sword Duke was just another name for the Third Prince's faction.
That was Logan's assumption.
And it was also why he had wanted to meet the Third Prince.
Hiding his thoughts, Logan answered:
"I've heard rumors—that he's the kingdom's only prince with true kingly qualities."
"...Haha. Don't say that so openly elsewhere. It could cause trouble."
Despite his words, a hint of pride seeped into the Sword Duke's voice.
Logan was certain he had guessed right.
"Does the Third Prince wish to meet me?"
"Yes. He was curious when he heard I'd taken a disciple. But I'm not forcing you. If you truly don't want to meet him, you don't have to. I—"
"I'll meet him."
"...Huh?"
The Sword Duke was taken aback by the immediate answer.
"As your disciple, how could I ignore your suggestion? Delaying my return a little won't matter."
"...Are you thinking before you speak? This could drag you and your family into dangerous paths."
"It's just a meeting, isn't it? From what I know, he isn't part of any faction."
"Well... that's true."
Watching his master's subtly shifting expression, Logan smiled inwardly.
'There's definitely something here.'
Along with certainty, he felt gratitude toward his master.
Felix Esperanza, the Sword Duke, wasn't the type to show his emotions so easily to others.
Yet with Logan, he often revealed his human side.
Though their bond was brief, Logan could tell his master had opened up to him—which was why he could speak so freely.
"Unless... is there something else you want from me?"
"Hmm. You sly brat, you're up to something, aren't you...?"
Logan felt a twinge of guilt but kept his face impassive.
"Up to something? You brought it up first, Master."
"Ha. Fair enough. Regardless, if you do meet the prince, mind your words carefully."
Knowing his master's warning came from concern, not threat, Logan simply nodded with a smile.
But events unfolded faster than expected.
"Well, now that I've confirmed your willingness, no need to delay. Let's go."
"...Huh?"
Since when was meeting a prince this easy?
Even if he lacked real power?
His brief question carried many doubts, but his master didn't answer.
Soon after—
Under the darkened sky, the duke and his disciple, their faces masked, sprinted across the capital's rooftops.
Tap.
Swish.
With a single step off a rooftop's edge, the masked figure ahead seemed to teleport twenty meters to the opposite side.
The one following, though not quite as fast, moved just as eerily.
Had anyone been watching, they would've doubted their own eyes.
From the trailing masked figure came a quiet, disgruntled mutter:
"...Was this why you taught me Ghost's Shadow?"
"Well, two birds with one stone."
Ignoring his disciple's exasperated look, the Sword Duke soundlessly raced across the night sky.
For Logan, still unskilled, keeping up with those ghostly movements required gritted teeth.
A moonless night.
The rooftops of the grand mansions lining the capital's Inner City.
Two shadows darted across them—swift and silent.
From the city's center to its outermost slums, they arrived in moments at a decrepit house.
A ruin barely deserving the term house.
One of the two shadows pressed something hidden in the ruin's wall.
Then—
Creak.
A concealed staircase leading underground was revealed.
"Why all this secrecy?"
"There are many eyes watching him."
"But for just meeting me? Is this really necessary?"
"Yes. Because it's no less than meeting the Sword Duke's disciple."
Master and disciple exchanged a quiet laugh.
"Any more questions?"
"...Does this mean you support the Third Prince, Master?"
Why would the Sword Duke need such secrecy just to meet a prince?
It meant he considered their meeting something to hide.
And the reasons for that were limited.
But his master's answer defied Logan's expectations.
"No. I don't involve myself in the succession struggle."
"Huh?"
The unexpected reply left Logan momentarily stunned.
"Then why go this far—?"
"If you were seen publicly meeting the Third Prince, misunderstandings would pile up. I'm merely his guardian until he comes of age—not a political supporter. His Majesty only asked me to ensure his safety until then."
It shattered Logan's assumption about the Sword Duke's faction.
"But you seemed pleased when praising him..."
"Of course—our Third Prince is brilliant."
His fond smile clearly held affection, but the Sword Duke was a man who kept duty and personal feelings separate.
If he said he wasn't involved, he meant it.
'Was I mistaken?'
His assumption had been wrong, complicating his plans.
Now he'd have to persuade his indifferent master to intervene in the civil war—the struggle for the throne.
For a moment, the task seemed daunting.
But—
'There's no other way.'
He couldn't allow the kingdom to be ruined again by the tyrant who had destroyed it in his past life—or by the man considered even worse.
Young as he was, the Third Prince was the only hope.
'I'll make it happen. No matter what!'
As Logan's determination flared, the Sword Duke gave him a strange look.
But now, meeting the Third Prince felt even more urgent.
His steps, now subtly eager, led him down the dark passage.
Soon, Logan spotted a soft glow at the end of the darkness.
A spacious stone chamber.
Faint lamplight barely illuminated the room, and an inexplicably fresh scent dispelled the underground's dampness.
At its center stood a single figure.
Too young to call a man, yet too mature to call a boy.
A handsome youth with shining platinum hair and emerald eyes.
Even without the royal family's signature platinum locks, there was only one person this could be.
The kingdom's Third Prince—Rogers von Grandia.
"It's been a while, Your Highness."
"Likewise, Duke. Ah, and behind you—"
Under the prince's curious gaze, Logan stepped forward and knelt respectfully.
Thud.
"Logan MacLaine greets the Third Prince."
"...So you're the Duke's disciple?"
The title Sword Duke's disciple still overshadowed his name—a fact made clear now.
Not that Logan minded. He nodded calmly.
"I am."
"I see. Already a High Knight at such a young age, aren't you? Truly remarkable. It's a pleasure."
"You flatter me. The honor is mine."
"Honor? I'm the one who called you here in the dead of night. My apologies, haha."
Unusually down-to-earth for a prince, he seemed.