The Calm Before the Storm, Part 2
The true name of the unknown.
This was what I desired from the Archmage Demarion.
Hearing my request, Demarion pondered for a moment before asking a question.
There was a weight to Demarion's question that went far beyond simple curiosity.
Had the intuition of a being who had lived for thousands of years pierced through my intentions?
Instead of giving a straightforward answer, I countered with another question.
"Because a true name is not merely a 'name.'"
Hearing this, Demarion wore an intrigued expression.
He raised his hand and began to draw something in the air.
Hum, hummm—
A blue light flowed from his fingertips, following his movements.
Soon, ancient characters floated in the forest air.
Demarion continued his explanation.
"……."
Clench.
Demarion's hand clenched the characters floating in the air.
The blue writing vanished like smoke.
With a dark expression, he continued in a low, heavy voice.
"……."
I listened to Demarion's explanation in silence.
Although these were settings I had fully memorized while playing the game, I listened intently, not missing a single syllable, just in case there was new information.
Fortunately, the lore regarding true names was exactly as I knew it.
Knowing the true name of a deity or a transcendent being was tantamount to holding the key to their very essence.
Even the Archmage Demarion is merely an alias, not his true name.
In this way, those who reached transcendence all hid their true nature by using aliases.
Of course, the other twelve Sword Masters were no exception.
Pokryong, Heukgol, and so on... Very few knew their true names. The alias acted as a protective barrier for the seeker.
"……."
Pausing for a moment, Demarion looked at me with a meaningful gaze and finished his sentence.
Grin.
Demarion smiled as he looked at me.
A dry chuckle escaped my lips.
Demarion's explanation was incredibly cunning, as if he had read my mind.
And indeed, I was planning to ask him for the true name of a specific Sword Master.
"You already knew I would ask for a Sword Master's true name."
Demarion nodded.
The leaves of the forest rustled.
I paused for a moment.
Then, I began to voice the question I had harbored in my heart ever since I arrived here.
"I..."
Information I had never obtained even while playing the game.
A secret I had failed to access even after completing two hundred playthroughs.
Yet, a key that must be uncovered to save the world from the impending apocalypse.
"The master of the Frost Sunset."
"……."
"The seeker who murdered the first Chancellor of Wintersheld Magic Academy."
I stared straight at Demarion. For the first time, a flicker of agitation crossed his otherwise serene face.
"Your kinsman, who promised to bestow the 'Mark of the Sword Master' upon the heads of the Heibrun family for generations."
I finished in a calm voice.
"The Blind Sword Master."
"……."
"I want to know his true name."
That was the 'final piece' to annihilate the Traditionalist faction of Midtemple.
Whoosh!
Inside a dark, deep cave.
A half-human, half-dragon sat cross-legged on a wide flat rock.
Dozens of candles burned quietly around Pokyeomdo, the giant flame sword planted right beside him.
"……."
As the Fire Dragon Sword Master continued his meditation, a memory suddenly flashed through his mind.
"I don't understand. I clearly didn't feel any energy, so how on earth did he block my attack...?"
The day he met Gaon in Labyrinth Village.
That bizarre swordsmanship that had blocked his fist.
"Haa..."
Pokryong slowly opened his eyes and let out a sigh.
"……Damn it, I can't wrap my head around it at all."
A strike delivered with all his might had been blocked in vain.
Gaon's sword had arrived at the point of impact first, as if he had foreseen the future.
To break that swordsmanship, he had fought countless battles in his mental world, but no matter how many times he tried, he could not pierce Gaon's defense.
In a way, it was only natural.
After all, Pokryong still did not 'understand' his swordsmanship at all.
"He was a real monster. I ran dozens of simulations in my mind, and I couldn't win even once."
Recalling the words Heukgol had uttered in the past, Pokryong let out a snort.
Indeed.
Even Heukgol was said to have been helplessly defeated by him.
Suppressed by mere presence without even clashing swords, was it?
...Interesting.
A bold smile played on Pokryong's lips.
The stronger the enemy, the greater the excitement.
Constantly pondering how to surpass his rival was one of Pokryong's greatest pleasures.
Sssss—!
"Hmm...?"
It was at that very moment.
A bone-chilling cold swept in, and all the surrounding candles went out.
At the same time, a soft, clear voice echoed from behind him.
"You look like a man burdened with many thoughts from behind, Pokryong."
"……!"
Pokryong whipped around.
An elf was standing near the entrance of the cave.
Long, flowing silver-white hair, and pointed ears.
Most eye-catching of all was the bandage completely covering his eyes.
Despite being completely blindfolded, there was not a single shred of hesitation in his steps as he approached Pokryong.
It was as if he could perceive everything through senses other than sight.
"……Pean."
Pokryong muttered in a low voice.
An inexplicable sense of discomfort was written on his face.
"What brings you here?"
"I came here to train as well. This is a space the great ones have graciously prepared for us seekers, after all."
"……Can't you already kill any target you want without training?"
"Haha. There is no end to the path of a seeker. I believe you know that better than anyone, Lord Pokryong."
Wearing a gentle smile, Pean continued.
"By the way, I heard you say you couldn't wrap your head around something... If you don't mind, would you like to spar with me?"
"……."
"Meditation and utilizing the 'mental world' are excellent training methods, but sometimes, there are realizations that can only be reached by clashing swords."
After pondering for a moment, Pokryong shook his head.
"……I'll pass on the spar."
Pokryong was a warrior who followed his instincts.
He felt alive when clashing swords at the risk of his life amidst burning heat.
But Pean's sword was different.
A dreadfully cold and calculated swordsmanship. A restrained violence where every movement seemed born from hundreds of simulations. A fight where not a single shred of emotion or spontaneity was permitted.
Sparring with him was less of a battle and more of an 'exam' with pre-determined answers.
That was why Pokryong avoided fighting Pean.
Win or lose, a battle with such forced answers gave him no pleasure whatsoever.
"Mmm. That is a pity."
Hearing this, Pean smacked his lips in disappointment.
"I asked to spar as part of my training, as it seems I will have to use my sword soon..."
"What?"
Freeze.
Instantly, Pokryong's brow furrowed slightly.
Turning around slowly, he stared intently at Pean and asked.
"You'll have to use your sword? You...?"
"Yes."
"……."
It was strange.
For Pean was one of the Sword Masters who loathed involving himself with the secular world more than anyone.
The only times he ever showed himself to the world were two:
When a new head of the Heibrun family was born, or when the great ones handed down a mission.
If the head of the Heibrun family had died, Heukgol, who recently visited Midtemple, would have informed him.
Since he had said nothing, it meant there was no major incident on the Heibrun side.
If so...
"Did the great ones hand down a new mission?"
"No, it's nothing like that."
Pean shook his head.
"They simply gave me a brief revelation."
"……A revelation?"
"Yes. They said I would meet an extremely strong opponent soon."
"……."
Pokryong stared at Pean in silence.
His sharp intuition began to tingle.
Could it be?
It was a groundless assumption.
But if it was someone deemed an 'extremely strong opponent' even by Pean...
There was only one person Pokryong could think of.
...Is it Gaon?
Causality is warping.
The encounter with the Blind Sword Master has been brought forward.
Rustle—
At the top floor of the magic tower.
Biorf, Selena, and several professors stood anxiously in front of the Archmage's room.
They had been waiting here for fifteen minutes already.
"Damn it, how much longer do we have to wait?"
Biorf grumbled under his breath.
Selena scolded him in a chiding voice.
"Biorf, have some patience. A meeting with the Archmage Demarion could never end so quickly—"
Creak—
Before she could even finish her sentence, the door slowly began to open.
Pure white light leaked through the gap in the door, and a man's silhouette appeared from within.
"...Oh, it ended quickly?"
Selena could not hide her flustered expression.
Soon, a stir arose among the professors.
Their faces were a mix of surprise and awe.
The sight of a Sword Master walking out through a door that had been closed for hundreds of years was indeed wondrous.
"The Sword Master really met the Archmage..."
"My goodness."
"What did they talk about?"
"I envy the knowledge he must have gained. They say the Archmage is a being who sees through all the secrets of this world..."
Whisper, whisper—
As the whispering of the professors spread across the top floor, Gaon quietly approached Adelia.
Then, he spoke in a low, calm voice.
"My business in Wintersheld is finished."
"T-Then...?"
Adelia asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
"It is time to return to Midtemple."
"……!"
Knowing all too well what those words implied, she gasped, her eyes widening instantly.
"Sir Gaon! We must return to the Holy City of Midtemple immediately and reveal the truth! We must hold a sacred trial and make Jacques von Heibrun pay for walking the path of heresy..."
"Calm down. It is not time yet."
"But...!"
"I believe I have told you repeatedly. There is an order to all things."
"……."
Yes.
Finally, the 'time' Sir Gaon had spoken of had arrived.