Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: False Mastery
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Jaybarshu Castle's prayer room.
"That rascal's gone."
In the prayer room, an elderly man missing one arm and a sturdy middle-aged man were praying before the statue of the god.
"Yes. That insolent punk. He spent three straight years singing on and on about swords, swords, then up and left."
Once he got his hands on the Thunderclap Sword, he bolted without a second thought.
What a heartless bastard.
"He could've stuck around a bit longer."
"But he at least said goodbye to you, right?"
"Not even to the Count?"
"I'm no Count anymore."
"Ah, right. Not even to the family head? The ungrateful wretch didn't even show his face to me."
Bernard grumbled about how they never should've given him the Thunderclap Sword, and Elbeton inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
Kallias hadn't said proper goodbyes to anyone.
He hadn't even given his daughter a decent farewell—why would he to his father?
No difference with his teacher, either.
Part of it was his lack of manners, but farewells just felt awkward to him.
It wasn't like they'd never meet again.
"I was starting to think we never should've given him the title..."
"That arrogant punk's a Count now. No one's gonna rein him in."
"Exactly. A wastrel turned Count—who knows what chaos he'll stir up."
They spoke of worry, but no trace of concern showed on their faces.
Just faint smiles blooming.
They were a bit miffed deep down, but what could they do?
He was off to bigger things.
The hero who'd guarded the North was now set to guard the kingdom—how could they stop him?
"He looked all right?"
"You mean Kallias?"
Bernard nodded, pondering his disciple.
"A wastrel's a wastrel. But that wastrel gained a daughter, a father, a teacher, the North's prestige—and became a Count."
Everything that was his by right.
A man who'd lost it all had reclaimed it. Seized it back!
What more needed saying?
"The reckless boy has become a young man, stepping up as a proper one. Late dawns shine longest in the sky, don't they?"
"Is that so."
"The fairy tales I read as a kid were mostly about heroes. But watching them, heroes aren't strong from the start."
They endure trials, overcome hardships, face death's door a few times—and then they become heroes.
What's a hero, anyway?
Even a roadside beggar brat or a dying patient can become one.
"A humble beginning."
But a grand end.
"Fits Kallias perfectly. That's why I've been scribbling something in my spare time..."
"You're writing a book."
"Just to pass the time."
The kingdom's top wastrel.
Perfect story material.
Elbeton clasped his hands before the statue, a rare pleased smile on his face.
"Bernard. I was supposed to be on my last legs."
"...Yes. You were."
"But the doctor who checked me recently said..."
The illness was cured.
The god had helped. A miracle.
But he knew.
"I've been saved twice by that rascal."
"Really!? That's great news! No wonder he got the Count title..."
Elbeton nodded.
"He already knew."
"About the family head's condition?"
"The punk used it to blackmail me."
Said since he cured me, hand over the title nicely.
Not time yet—use the extra life to watch over the North more.
Who'd have thought he'd snag the Count title that way? Bernard stuck out his tongue at the mad stunt.
"My son, but not right in the head."
Blackmailing his own father.
Though with his twisted personality, of course.
"Good heart on him. Heard he left Emily that precious spirit stone. Trying to play father, even if late."
"Good. I've long worried what to do with Emily. Her bloodline's settled, full heir's daughter now—no worries for her."
Emily's skills improved daily. Unlike Kallias, she needed less hand-holding.
Yet that made Elbeton a touch wistful. With a legitimate heir like Kallias now, he felt at ease.
No reason not to dote on his son's daughter, his granddaughter.
But Emily kept her distance from Elbeton. Found him a bit uncomfortable.
It stung a little.
Self-inflicted, no complaints.
Elbeton paused in talking of Kallias, then carefully asked.
"How do you rate his skill?"
"......"
"Kallias crushed the Warlord. Wasn't sane, but I saw it clear."
That on his sword.
"Something only those in the master's realm can wield..."
Sword aura.
From Kallias's sword.
Elbeton had seen sword aura.
Imperfect, but he'd seen it.
It was the realm he'd yearned for his whole life.
"Bernard. Tell me. Has Kallias... become a master?"
Bernard carefully chose his words, thinking of the Kallias he'd seen.
The one he'd forged.
Word by word, cautious.
"On the battlefield. He nearly died twice. Each time he survived, he grew stronger."
Barely lived through the clash with Great Warrior Keltuk.
When he reappeared.
The Kallias who blocked the Warlord's strike had surpassed Bernard.
Not enough for the Warlord, but that final blow he showed.
Its power was unmistakably a master's.
What dwelled in Kallias's sword.
The technique that felled the Warlord was proof! Of a master.
"At death's edge. He grasped what we couldn't."
Not complete yet.
But advancing steadily.
Toward the master's realm.
* * *
Same time.
'Master my ass.'
Ridiculous nonsense.
Since facing the Warlord.
Kallias hadn't properly executed Flower Annihilation even once.
The Nirvana Transformation of Silver Flower Sword Wave's three forms was created by Stella after reaching mastery.
He felt the sensation.
Knew the direction to grow.
But not yet.
Mastery was still beyond him.
Their misconception left him outwardly calm, inwardly relieved.
If they mistook him for some master-level figure, all the better.
The subtle killing intent and Tyrant Sword's gravity apparently passed as master's proof to them.
Fair enough.
If faint gravity seemed like a strong one's aura, it'd fool them into thinking master.
He'd rather not fight, so Tyrant Sword's effect satisfied him plenty.
'Insect Lord would be a pain.'
In a one-on-one, bugs gnawing nerves and causing hassle would make seizing advantage hard.
Of course.
'Still just bugs in the end.'
Insect Lord's swarms versus Tyrant Sword's gravity—bad matchup.
No matter how many bugs, they're bugs.
Crush under gravity, and no power left.
Multitudes meant dispersed power. Pressing dispersed strength was child's play for Tyrant Sword.
Orkal had aces, sure, but seizing the upper hand wouldn't be tough.
In this situation, had to consider facing multiples.
Three leaders against one.
Break them individually, no problem. The northern war made him that strong, arsenal of mighty swords in hand.
If he committed, confidence overflowed.
But first, other business.
"If I was suspicious, I could've gone to the Church to prove my innocence. Wasn't dragged—walked in as Heretic Inquisitor myself."
Drew Judgment Sword-Mida from his bosom.
Leveled it at the newly arrived Heretic Judgment leaders. Especially Orkal.
"Is that really your thought?"
"......"
Orkal flinched at the Judgment Sword, head turning.
But couldn't fool Kallias's eyes. For a split second, Orkal had glanced at Druma.
"......"
And Druma.
When aimed at him, the Judgment Sword's elegant blade blackened.
"Answer's clear."
Not his thought.
Yet attacking anyway meant orders from above.
Ryban, reading the situation, had slipped from Kallias's side to theirs.
"Fine."
No point talking here, or proving innocence with sword to throat.
They'd try killing him anyway.
Yeah.
Held back plenty till now.
No intent to listen, so time to converse with blades.
Perfect test dummies for Thunderclap Sword, too. Heretic Inquisitor leaders—fine opponents to go wild on.
I drew the Thunderclap Sword at once.