Chapter 11
The Northern Count's daughter was a swordsmanship genius. Colton Clay. The Duke of Colton Clay, to be precise. A man called the Emperor's Knight and the Empire's Guardian, who had led the front lines in past wars and been dubbed the War God. One of the mere nine Sword Masters on the entire continent. Perhaps the strongest among them. A peerless genius who gripped a sword at five and unleashed aura at seventeen. Known as the Sword Ghost for devoting his life to the blade. The path he walked became the dream of every knight.
Chivalry. A knight wields the sword to protect someone. Colton Clay's words became a creed. Those words resonated in the heart of another aspiring Sword Master—a girl named Iris. To wield the sword for protection. That was the essence of a knight. Those words struck a chord in Iris's soul, making Colton Clay her idol.
Someday, if she could just meet him once. That would be enough. She even fantasized.
"You have remarkable talent. Will you learn the sword from me?"
Iris knew she had talent, to some extent. So, if they met, maybe she'd hear something like that. She'd thought so earnestly. It was truly a dream. One she never expected to come true. Because—
‘Duke Colton never takes disciples. Not anyone.’
Not even his own grandson by blood. Not even the Crown Prince who begged to learn the sword. He could teach swordsmanship, but never accept a disciple. Becoming his disciple required something extraordinary.
‘Maybe—’
Iris had wondered if she possessed that extraordinary something.
Until just moments ago.
“Become my disciple.”
“Whoa. Fuck no.”
How the hell did this happen? Time rewinds a bit.
“What's your name?”
The moment the scary-looking black-haired old man asked my name, shit hit the fan.
‘Andrechon or something? Yeah, that's too obvious a fake.’
Even I knew it was a half-assed alias. So the old man didn't buy it and asked again. Ah, why's he so curious?
‘What? Did I fuck up?’
Obviously a noble. Big as a mountain, face like a thug, but still a noble. When a high-and-mighty type asks your name, it's one of two things. Good shit. Or fucked-up shit.
And this? ‘Definitely the latter.’
What had I done to impress this old geezer? Pissing him off by acting familiar? Kinda shitty, but... nothing else comes to mind. Ah, did I pick the wrong mark? Yeah, I got too cocky.
As I mulled that over—
Clank.
‘Huh?’
A sound. From the old man's waist. Then—
Vmmm.
My heart reacted. My eyes saw something. What the hell is that? Lines extended from the old man's waist, chaining toward my neck.
What kind of lines? Mana? No, not mana. Different feel. Every cell in my body bristled at the unknown sensation.
Shing—.
“...”
By the time I noticed, a sword was at my throat. The old man's thrust.
“Guh...”
Late reaction. I jerked back from the sword and clutched my neck. Did it cut? No. No blood. Cold sweat poured, soaking my back.
Now I got it. ‘This old fucker's— insanely strong.’
Chill way beyond the troll. Like— ‘Seeing my mom.’
That weirdo. Same vibe as my adoptive mom. Meaning, not a normal human.
Look at him now. ‘Puts a blade to my throat out of nowhere.’
Crazy bastard. Fuck, killing here wouldn't even raise eyebrows.
“...Why... are you doing this?”
I asked, tense. His eyes lit up at my words.
“You saw it.”
“...Pardon?”
“I asked if you saw the sword.”
Saw the sword?
“No...? Didn't see shit...”
What was there to see? By the time I noticed, it was already at my neck.
He ignored me, staring with those same eyes.
“No, you saw the sword.”
What the fuck is with this crazy old man? Why ask if you're just gonna dictate?
Ridiculous.
“I really didn't see—”
“Your eyes tracked the trajectory before it was even drawn.”
Huh? I shut my mouth at his words. Trajectory? Oh, that must've been—
‘The lines I saw earlier?’
I didn't see the sword move, but if he's right— ‘Then yeah, I saw it.’
Not sure.
“Born with the eyes, eh.”
He took my silence as yes and grinned. Whoa... that smile's terrifying. Not a noble? Bandit? Hell, I'd buy monster.
“Ah, yes. My name is Colton Clay.”
Sudden intro.
“Ah, yes, got it.”
No clue what to say, so I nodded—
‘Wait...’
Colton Clay? ‘Colton?’
Brain flashed. Colton? Then— ‘Isn't that the sub-male lead's family name?’
I knew the name. From this world. The romance fantasy novel "Reborn as the Count's Lady, I Hate Sub-Male Leads." The actual male lead, Colton Seven. His family was Colton.
Definitely— ‘The duke's son...’
His father was Colton Clay. Emperor's guard captain, one of the empire's top powerhouses.
‘Whoa.’
Yep. Black hair, black eyes. Huge build, sharp features. Exactly as described.
“...Are you Duke Colton Clay?”
I asked, and Clay nodded.
Fuck. For real? That Colton Clay? The War Ghost?
‘Ooh.’
Wild. First novel character I've seen. Stuck in this shithole north for over a month, no appearances. Wondered if this was really the novel world.
‘Guess it is.’
Meeting one here, of all places.
“You know me.”
“Yeah. Hard not to.”
“Fortunate.”
Clay nodded, pleased. Sub-male's dad, ooh. Ooh.
I was geeking out when—
“Nameless boy. I am the Empire's Knight and the Emperor's Sword. Colton Clay.”
Repeated his intro. Flaunting his specs? Fair, he's the real deal.
As I thought that—
“Will you become my disciple?”
‘Huh?’
Clay dropped a bomb.
Disciple? ‘Disciple...?’
Right word? If I heard correctly, this empire knight's asking me to be his disciple.
‘What?’
Why? Doesn't compute. From what I knew, Clay—
—Give up. I won't teach you any more of my sword.
—Father...!
—Don't chase flowers you can't pick. Find your own wings. My sword doesn't suit you.
The source of the sub-male's trauma and personality issues. Never recognized no matter how hard he swung. Inferiority complex, fragile ego—all from this old man.
Refused even the Emperor's request. Fueling his son's sword obsession even more—
That absurd guy suddenly offering me discipleship?
‘What? Dream?’
Feels like a dream. Nothing else explains it.
Yeah. Dream. No wonder no soldiers around. Makes sense.
“Slow to answer. Didn't hear?”
Clay asked. But too realistic. Real dream?
Suspicious, I went to slap my cheek—
Smack—!
Clay grabbed my wrist mid-swing.
“What're you doing?”
“...Uh, checking if it's a dream.”
“Violent tendencies? Don't.”
“...”
What the— sweet? Almost melted.
‘Hmm.’
If he's really Colton Clay, being his disciple is huge. Especially in this novel world.
‘Life-changer, right?’
Escape that unknown Elise chick, start fresh. Head to the capital, live large as a real noble.
Ooh. Sounds good. Bail? He's offering.
‘Fuck, seize the chance!’
Got a dick, might as well go for it!
Steeled myself. About to accept—
‘But.’
Sudden novel recall. About Clay. His son. The Emperor's training.
—Ten thousand more.
—Dropped the sword. Start over.
Made him grip a torn sword. Carried house-sized logs for squats. Those two perverts loved it.
Clay's life of that shit. ‘Wait.’
Disciple means— ‘This kinda crap?’
Did that to non-disciples; worse for real ones. Snapped to.
“Didn't hear? I'll repeat.”
Clay said.
“Become my disciple.”
“Whoa. Fuck no.”
“...?”
“Eek.”
Covered my mouth. Blurted it out. Blame the crazy training flashbacks.
“No, I mean—”
Panicked. Ah, wrong way. Should've softened the no.
Imagining it made me wanna puke. Clay stared, eyes wide.
Whoa, fucked up. Too rude.
‘He's a duke.’
What if he hauls me off? Shit, life or death?
Trembling, about to speak—
“You bastard!”
“...Huh?”
Stunned by the shout. Clay? No, voice too thin.
Looked around. Source—
“Huh?”
“...”
Iris and August stood there. What? Iris? Nah, she looked behind me too.
There. The shouter.
“How dare you!!”
Face flushed red. About seventeen. Platinum hair, golden eyes. Boy.
Who the fuck's this kid?
“You. Draw your sword. Now.”
“...Huh?”
I frowned. Sword? What sword? Crazy fucker.
Fresh lunatic appeared.
“...Not as promised.”
Clay whispered to him. Promised what?
“You said you'd stay put.”
Platinum boy flinched.
“...Can't help it!”
Brazen as fuck.
What's this guy's deal?
“Duke Clay! How could you! This isn't what we discussed!”
“What isn't?”
“You said no disciples, so I gave up! How can you—”
His eyes scanned me. Nasty glare. Eyes piss me off.
“Take a lowly worm like this as disciple...! Even if it was the grand genius Northern lady here, I'd get it...! But this guy?!”
Clay eyed him.
“Not as discussed.”
“Not?”
“I never said no disciples. Just no suitable ones so far.”
Clay's gaze pierced.
“Applies to all, including His Imperial Majesty the Sun of the Empire.”
Mention of Emperor made him flinch, briefly.
“...So this trash caught your eye?”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense—!”
Boy freaked.
“You see a body that never touched a sword and say that? Better to say you hate me and made excuses.”
“Would you believe it?”
“...”
Kid shut up. Sucks at arguments, why rage? He glared at me soon enough.
“Whatever. I won't accept it. Didn't come north to see you take that!”
Clank—!
Suddenly drew his waist sword.
“Hey, you.”
“Me?”
“Draw.”
“...”
“What! Draw your sword!”
“...No, sorry, but.”
“What?”
“You blind?”
“What?”
“Where's my sword to draw?”
“...Ah?”
Draw from my ass? Plus.
“I don't use swords. Mage, dude.”
“...Mage?”
Clay reacted this time. Boy flinched.
“Mage...? Not even a knight?”
“Look like I've held a sword?”
Blind for real? If eyes worked, no such thought.
As I stared, thinking weirdo—
“Mage. Ha. Doesn't matter.”
Aimed sword at me.
“I'll show you're inferior. Mage? Do your worst. I'll crush you.”
“...What the fuck.”
“Fuck?”
“Shibal. Blessing in my tongue.”
“You're northern?”
“Nah. Homeland's different. Korea.”
“Bullshit! Attack already. I'll let you go first.”
“...”
Fucking annoying bastard.
Growling kid, amused Clay, stiff-faced Iris afar.
‘All fucking irritating.’
“Shoot?”
“Yes. Whatever.”
That's why.
Vrrrreeee—!!!!
Rotated the circle. Heart pounded. Pre-made ring spun fast.
Difference from last: way faster spin. Engine accelerating? Smoother mana flow.
Gathered at fingertips. Thorn Arrow. Only trick I know.
Still small, but more mana sucked in. No— more mana input.
Troll loot? Maybe.
Before thinking, spell complete.
“Ha, all you got's Thorn Arrow?”
Contempt in his eyes at my arrow. Pitiful look. Whatever, it's all I got.
“Here goes.”
Irritated, fired at him.
Thwip—!
Fast arrow toward him.
“This shit.”
Sword swung to deflect—
Crack—!
“...Huh?”
No deflection. Hit blade, spun wildly.
Vrrrreeee—!!!!
“F-Fuck! What is this!!”
Pressure widened his eyes.
“Urgh...!!!”
Body pushed back, then— Crack—! Sword cracked.
Then.
Shing.
Clang—!!
A sword smacked my arrow away. Clay. He deflected it.
Arrow hit side wall.
BOOM—!!!!
Explosion. Massive hole in wall.
“...Guh...”
Boy gaped at ruined wall. Me too.
“...Ah, shit...!”
Blew another wall. Last time got chewed out; can't do this!
Glanced at August guiltily. Hands over mouth, eyes huge.
“Count! See? Not me! These guys—!”
Clay cut my excuse.
“...Boy.”
Shock in his eyes tore the cold air.
“That spell.”
“Yes?”
“...How'd you cast without incantation?”
“Incantation?”
Incantation? Chant thing?
“...Need that?”
“...”
“...”
“...”
Air grew heavy. That silence? Heaviest ever.
◆ The Empire's Sword. You have encountered Colton Clay.
◆ The noble knight takes an interest in you.
◆ You have encountered another major character.
◆ Fate stirs once more.
◆ The Eye of All Things you possess contemplates the world.