Chapter 236: Opening (3)
Chapter 236: Opening (3)
Our blades collided.
Clang. The ring of steel on steel echoed between us. To my ears, that raw metallic resonance sounded like her voice. Through the blades that bit and scraped against one another, Seol-yoon’s past began to flow into me. I felt the lonely years she spent after departing for the Great Land of the Eastern Continent—the moments spent chasing the shadows of the past, reclaiming the things she once regretted after finally becoming a true swordsman.
Seol-yoon’s life surged into me in a compressed torrent. The years she endured in the Great Land, the profound influence of that place, and the new sword born from it all. No complex explanations were needed. Within the rhythm of clashing steel, I caught a glimpse of her journey.
Seol-yoon had changed.
Her time in the East had transformed her. She had shaken off the regrets and lingering attachments that once tethered her; she had found her own answer. The enlightenment she gained had elevated her to a higher realm.
Clang. The sound rang out again.
In the next moment, beyond Seol-yoon’s blade, I saw a fluid, beautiful set of armor. It was a stark contrast to my own rigid plate. Her armor was more like a garment of fine cloth—an Eastern-style robe, the kind worn by the warriors of the Great Land. It was a fluttering, ethereal thing, infinitely soft and thin.
Ever-changing.
It was armor perfectly suited for a sword that shifted like the wind. Seol-yoon’s undulating armor was, in itself, her new world.
『In this ever-changing world, no one knows what will happen.』
A world born from the enlightenment she had attained.
『That is why this world is beautiful.』
Ever-changing, fickle, endless transformation. A world where the end is not fixed, where anything is possible. The armor born of her stubbornness represented Seol-yoon’s world.
『The world is this fickle and ever-changing.』
A paradise.
A paradise blooming in a world stained with blood and steel. An oasis shimmering in the heart of a desert. A single ray of light in the pitch-black night. Seol-yoon’s world championed beauty.
It was the world she had found, and the world she aimed for. A realm where immortals dwell—a paradise where unbloomed flowers gather to enjoy eternal happiness. A world where the joy they would have reached, had they not been broken, was finally gathered.
“Arhan.”
Clang. Once more, our swords collided.
“The place you are going—will it be a paradise?”
As our swords met as equals, Seol-yoon looked at me. Her gaze, more mature than I remembered, sparkled as if piercing through my soul. Her face and eyes could no longer be called those of a girl. She had become a woman, and with that newfound maturity, she looked at me. She looked at my sword and my world—a world stained with flames, blood, and steel.
“I saw sad things in my hometown. I saw desolate lands soaked in blood. I saw people suffering. But you know, there was always hope there. If there is hope, any world can be a paradise. If you look forward to tomorrow instead of fearing it, that place becomes a paradise.”
“……”
“The place you are going, the place where you are now—is it a paradise?”
Clang. I shoved Seol-yoon’s sword back.
“I don’t know.”
I was being sincere.
“Seol-yoon, you seem certain. You believe that if you look at this ever-changing world with beautiful eyes, paradise will eventually come. That you will reach a sparkling world.”
“……”
“Your answer might be right. Perhaps the world is made that way. But I don’t think so.”
I struck Seol-yoon’s sword upward from below.
“The world is not beautiful. I don’t think this world is perfect. I still can’t be certain. I doubt everything. I cannot reach a conclusion—not yet.”
The moment an opening appeared, I lunged.
Clang. Once again, my blade was blocked.
Seol-yoon’s sword moved softly. I spun, parrying her blade away, and swung again, but it was easily deflected. It felt as if I were cutting through water—an infinite sea that filled itself back up no matter how much I slashed.
“And even if this world were perfect...”
“……”
“I believe a world without doubt cannot be perfect.”
Tch-ring.
I shoved Seol-yoon’s sword away. She stared at me intently. No more words were needed. Seol-yoon gave her sword a slight flick. Since she had shown me her sword, she was telling me to speak through mine.
I did exactly that.
Whir. I swung my sword from top to bottom.
Forging.
As I swung the first steel, the ground beneath Seol-yoon’s feet caved in. Having received the heaviest sword on the continent, Seol-yoon took a step back, her face expressionless. As she retreated, she arched her body back and lunged forward like an acrobat, thrusting her sword.
I met her thrust head-on.
Refinement.
I swung the second steel, attempting to brush aside Seol-yoon’s armor. She didn't dodge or block; she absorbed the force of my sword as if scraping against it. Using that momentum against me, she swung her blade horizontally.
The moment she swung, light exploded, and the souls of Radiance appeared. The sword specters slumbering within me rushed toward her. Clang. As the metallic rings echoed repeatedly, Seol-yoon saw the time I had spent in the Southern Continent. As our swords intermingled, she saw the time I had let flow by.
Salvation, religion, light. The death of a friend, the vast sea.
My old friend, the gift I received from the old caretaker. The grace I received from him, the unyielding will, and the attitude toward life. My own world born within theirs. A stubbornness that refuses to give up or be broken. Flames, steel, and a single boy. Revenge and salvation, purpose and belief.
Clang.
Sword met sword. Seol-yoon continued to look at me. Her face seemed to ask if there wasn't more. I gladly complied. There was nothing to hide between us. A faint flame bloomed at the tip of my sword, and a moment later, winter arrived.
Match.
The sword I had received from my ancestor, Leon Caravan, awakened.
A boy and a girl. A man and a woman. Two swordsmen. Two blades. Two worlds. Offense, defense. Collision.
In the continuous sequence of events, sparks flew like flint striking flint. Amidst the flying sparks, I heard the voice of the Match ringing out. Faintly, yet clearly.
『You cannot become me.』
Soon, I was submerged in the voice of the sword.
*
It had been a year since I began living under the name Leon alone. I held a wedding with a woman I met in a distant land. It was a modest wedding. Having discarded the name of Steel, my newlywed life in a foreign land was simple yet happy. For the first time, I realized I was someone who could smile lightheartedly.
Leon, Leon. My name, called without the title of Caravan, was beautiful.
But the name of Steel could not be discarded.
“Young Master, please, you must return.”
The servants of the estate came looking for me. Asking how they found me was meaningless; there was nothing the servants of the most famous Caravan on the continent could not do. They arrived covered in blood, desperately begging me to return.
“At this rate, we will all perish.”
The fate of Steel was calling to me.
“The Family Head has abandoned us,” the servants said.
My father—you had abandoned the family.
Those words were not wrong. Even after ending the Age of War, you did not stop wielding your sword. You turned your blade toward those who had shared in the glory of the war years. Under the pretext of not letting them grow lazy, you pointed your sword at the other Great Families. Those who rightfully deserved to enjoy peace were forced to constantly build their strength under your command. If they did not, you would visit them and request a duel. To ensure they did not forget war.
“Young Master.”
The numerous Swordmasters were not pleased. Those who were now sick of blood, steel, and war were not pleased. You dueled the Emperor, you dueled the General, you dueled the spirit beasts of the forest, you dueled the five Spirit Kings, and you dueled the greatest Dragons. In all those duels, you were victorious. And in all those duels, claiming you were awakening the vigilance of those left behind, you took their lives.
You said:
This is no different from the Age of War. You must learn to become Steel yourselves. You must become beings that the Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses fear. You must not be beings that follow control, but beings that can stand on their own. That is why I wield my sword against you. You must realize this. You must not forget war.
You must remember Steel.
The name of Caravan. You, who shed oceans of blood beneath it. You, who wielded your sword like that over and over again.
“Young Master, the Family Head has ascended.”
You left this world.
“He has left the Middle World and gone to the spiritual world.”
Why? Why did you, who issued such constant warnings, leave for a place so far away? I could not know. Did you lose interest in this world? Did you become so great that you became part of the heavens? Whatever the reason, you became a sublime being. I could not understand, and I could not accept it. It was an incredibly irresponsible act.
“What… what are we supposed to do now?”
You had said that those left behind must remember Steel and become strong enough to stand on their own. They did as you said. They became powerful, and they did not forget Steel. But they did not respect it. Steel became their ordeal. And the gaze the world cast upon ‘Steel’ was filled with rage. The world was saying that only when Steel disappeared would the Age of War truly end. To break the cycle of blood, Steel had to be erased. They said that cursed blood flowed through us.
You had left behind far too many enemies.
“The Empire, the Dragons, all the races, the entire world—they all wish to eliminate us.”
You left one final word.
My son, become Steel.
Become Steel and become an ordeal so that they do not grow lazy. Become a flame so that they do not lose their vigilance. Use them as your ordeal to make yourself hard. I left the enemies for that purpose. I left the trials for that purpose.
Steel blood only grows harder the more it is struck.
I chewed on those words and thought: Father, I cannot become you. No one can.
“Please lead us, Young Master.”
Just as you said.
『Steel grows harder the more it is struck.』
The sobbing servant. The people of Caravan pleaded for salvation. I could not turn them away. I could not watch them be erased by the enemies my father had left behind. Taking my modest family—my wife and my children—I returned to the Caravan estate. To the Caravan that was now a hollow shell, with you, the greatest and only Steel, gone.
『I hate those words.』
My wife said: You can do it. Let’s overcome this together. There’s nothing you can’t do.
『Humans do not grow stronger by being struck.』
My son said: I believe in you, Father. You can do it.
My daughter said: Come back soon and read picture books with us.
『Humans grow weaker the more they are struck.』
On the twentieth day after returning to Caravan, the breath of Dragons burned the mansion. Within the inferno, my wife was burned alive. I heard her desperate screams from the garden. There was no beautiful parting. My wife, who said she believed in me, shrieked and poured out all sorts of resentment and curses. She died crying that my cursed blood had ruined everything. Painfully and miserably.
『The human soul is fragile.』
My son lost the ability to walk. Half of his face was burned away. My daughter began to suffer from mutism.
『The more you strike it, the more it cracks.』
More than ten battles took place every day. I wielded the sword I learned from you to kill and kill. Generals, knights, even a small boy who had only recently picked up a sword—I killed them all. Victory was not glorious. The blood they spilled was hot, and the act of murder destroyed my humanity. Their faces flickered in my dreams. Every time that happened, I heard your voice: Become hard; Steel does not waver.
『It splits, and it cracks wide open.』
Elves, heroes, armies—they all came. They all had justifiable reasons and justifiable rage. All that rage was directed at Caravan. Not at Leon, but at Caravan. A being burdened with the bloodline of Steel had to endure their fury. Even after you disappeared, your shadow did not vanish. Perhaps it never will.
『And then, it shatters.』
How long did I fight? How many battles did I endure? The front of my mansion became a mountain of corpses, an execution ground, a slaughterhouse. No matter how much I washed, the smell of blood remained. I could no longer eat meat. I looked up and saw only a red sky. In such a cold, cold world, my only joy was lighting a match.
Flick.
When I burned a match, I saw the world of the distant past and the paradise I so desperately craved.
『It shatters miserably and collapses.』
The hallucinations within the match. In that imaginary world, I was your proud son. You stroked my head and told me my value did not lie in the sword. When you embraced me and praised me, I would smile. When we walked down the street holding hands, you would answer my trivial questions with kindness.
In the hallucination, I brought my wife, and you welcomed her as a kind old man. The food was warm. My son and daughter laughed until their mouths seemed to tear. I hoped that hallucination would never end, so I lit match after match. To feel even a little warmth in this cold world.
『It collapses without a trace.』
Enemies came constantly. They indeed made me strong, but it was only my sword that grew strong; I myself did not. I was still a boy craving a happiness that would never come. As I was lighting a match, a mass of charred flesh snatched it away. The mass let out an unintelligible shriek. I was so uncontrollably angry that I did what I always did—I swung my sword and crushed it.
『Utterly miserably.』
I learned only later that the mass of flesh was my son. A son whose face was hideous from burns and whose mind was broken. A warm-hearted son who, seeing his father lighting a fire, had his trauma triggered and threw himself forward to protect me.
“Ah.”
My sword had become too sharp. I had crushed my son completely. I barely managed to collect his remains, but the grave I dug was unearthed the next day by knights. Those bastards planted a flag on my son’s grave and urinated on it. I killed them to the last man. I killed their children, their parents, and burned their entire kingdom to the ground. In front of the hill built from their heads, my daughter, who had forgotten how to speak, twitched as she lay sprawled like an insect.
『Steel grows harder the more it is struck.』
A world turned to ashes. You had said: A phoenix rises from the ashes.
You soared. You became Steel. But I am not you. I cannot become like you. No one can. Not me, and not my children.
『I hate those words with a passion.』
Night fell. Stars fell from the sky. I heard that a falling meteor means someone has died. I thought: Then I hope stars fall when I die, too. I hope a magnificent meteor shower pours down.
Because then, even you, who left so irresponsibly, would watch my death. Only then would you finally look at me. Perhaps only then would you admit that you were wrong.
『Why do I hate it?』
『The reason is simple.』
I entered the mansion. I hung myself from the glowing chandelier in front of your portrait. My sturdy body would not break from hanging alone, so I took the sword you loved and plunged it into my heart. I desperately wished for this persistent life to end. In the world turning pitch black, I repeated: Father, look. This is the end of Steel. This is the end of your child. And it will be the end of every Caravan who follows your path. Do you know why? Because…
『Humans are not steel.』
That was the end of the son of the greatest Swordmaster. The end of Leon Caravan.
.
.
.
I slowly opened my eyes.
In the process of exchanging blows with Seol-yoon, I had accepted the memories of Leon Caravan contained within the 「Match」. However, I could not fully digest them. While clashing swords with Seol-yoon, I couldn't move a single finger. In the middle of the frozen world, the soul of Leon Caravan was floating.
“The last Caravan.”
“……”
“You have seen it, then—my end.”
Leon Caravan was looking at me with cold eyes.
“Blood and steel—at their end, only ruin exists.”
“……”
“If you had been me, could you have made a different choice? If it were you, could you have created a different result in the face of such a lonely fate?”
Leon Caravan’s gaze pierced through me.
“You have completely grasped the fragment of the Match within the light of the sword shown by your friend, that girl from the East. But you have not yet offered your own answer.”
His voice echoed. I opened my mouth.
“I—”
“No, do not answer immediately.”
My words were cut off.
“There is more I must show you before I hear your answer.”
“……”
“I told you, didn't I? The truth of 「The Maverick」.”
Leon Caravan’s words fell heavily.
“It won't be too late to speak after you have seen that terrible memory.”
Soon, the frozen world faded into darkness.
“The last Caravan.”
“……”
“Your journey is now nearing its end.”
The world plunged into darkness. There, the memory of ‘Leon Caravan’ was overlaid once more.
“And this is.”
To be precise.
“The truth you must know before you reach the end.”
The memory of what happened after he died.
“The curse of Steel that you must, without fail, know.”
Once again, I returned to the mansion. The cold mansion. Leon Caravan, who had died hanging from the chandelier, was swaying like an ornament. Behind him stood an old man who looked like a lion. The old man had the same face as the portrait hanging in the mansion. I knew his name.
Liam Caravan. The greatest Swordmaster.
He was looking at his dead son. Behind the swaying corpse stood Leon's daughter, making incoherent sounds. In her hand, she held a sword. A sword that was excessively sharp, its keen edge flashing.
I knew the name of that sword.
「Young descendant of Caravan.」
「Eat me.」
The treasure of Caravan. The Maverick.
That sword was speaking.
「Then, you shall obtain what you desire.」
The words were exactly the same as the ones I had heard once before.