Chapter 2
Chapter 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Reading the Sword (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sword. Jensen. Could there be anything less suited to each other?
Jensen was the type who never hid his displeasure whenever he saw swordsmen. If there was one thing that absolutely shouldn't be here, it was a sword.
'What the hell is this doing here...?'
"Ban! You almost done?"
"Ah, y-yeah, almost!"
At Jensen's voice, Ban hurriedly shoved the box back under the floorboards and calmed his pounding heart. It felt like he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to.
'Forget it. Just forget.'
If Jensen hadn't mentioned it first, there must be a good reason. Ban was old enough to use that kind of judgment.
But he wasn't quite mature enough to fully suppress his curiosity.
That night, Ban kept his eyes wide open until Jensen fell asleep. One thought led to another, chaining endlessly.
'Why is there a sword in there?'
'Is it really Master's?'
He had more questions than he could count. But behind all of them lingered something embarrassing: greed.
'...I want to hold it.'
Earlier, he'd been too scared of getting caught by Jensen to even touch it. But this was his first real sword. No matter what it was, he didn't want to miss the chance to swing it.
"Snore..."
"..."
Focusing on Jensen's snores, Ban crept forward on tiptoe. The moment he entered the storage room, he pulled out the sword.
'Rusty.'
He'd been too flustered to notice before. Rust covered every inch of the blade, rendering it useless as a sword. But that was enough for him. When had he ever held a real hilt before?
It was a black sword. If the blade were intact, it would have been even better, but this would do. Ban reached out cautiously. The instant he gripped it, he jolted in shock, nearly dropping it—enough to make his earlier caution seem foolish.
"...What."
[ Sword recognized. ]
[ Guardian trait, 'Voice of the Sword,' activated. ]
[ You have gripped the rusted longsword of 'A Novice Swordsman Decent at Overhead Slash.' ]
Material: Iron
Quality: Junk
Owner: Jensen (1-Star)
Memory Preservation Rate: Low
Notes: A plain sword forged by an unnamed blacksmith of Ryunheo. Left abandoned for so long it's rusted, making it hard to trace the former owner's marks.
[ Your current swordsmanship level is 0-Star. Memory synchronization rate set to minimum. ]
[ Training required! ]
§
Ever since he'd gotten older, Ban had never thought of himself as special. He wasn't exceptionally handsome, big, or smart. The most he could do was climb mountains and gather herbs—and that's how it would stay.
So this phenomenon hit him completely out of left field.
[ Training required! ]
Ban glanced at the blinking alert in the corner of his vision. Learning the sword belonged to Jensen was surprising enough, but compared to this...
"Swordsmanship level of 0-Star..."
He didn't know what 'Star' meant, but a low number couldn't be good. It probably meant his skills weren't even worth 1 point.
He'd never held a proper sword, so 0-Star made sense. Still, it stung. He'd swung sticks pretty hard, but apparently that wasn't enough.
Ban checked that no one was around and raised the sword. Truth be told, he'd been dying to swing it since earlier.
Gripping the sword brought more than just alerts. 'Memory synchronization rate.' The unfamiliar term clicked for him intuitively.
He swung. The awkward curve was the same as always. But beyond that clumsiness, thread-like memories seeped into his body.
A brand-new sensation. When he swung, he wasn't alone. He swung as Ban... and as Jensen.
One swing felt like three or more. He could sense the flaws in his cut.
Then he recalled Jensen's title: 'A Novice Swordsman Decent at Overhead Slash.' He took a deep breath and assumed the overhead stance.
'It's different.'
His breath caught. Just taking the stance brought a qualitatively different sensation tickling through him.
So when he slashed...
[ Recreating owner's specialty swordsmanship. ]
[ Memory synchronization rate temporarily increased! ]
"...Whoa."
After the downward slash, Ban stood speechless for a long while. It was ecstasy beyond words. If his previous plain cuts felt like two strikes at once... this was like five simultaneous blows.
Memories poured from the sword like threads, soaking into every nerve.
An unimaginable thrill pulsed from the sword's weight. Not just because it was real steel. The former owner's handprints, his traces, were clumsily recreating themselves through Ban's hands.
Not a perfect Overhead Slash. Not the owner's, nor his own. But this slash was worlds apart from his stick or wooden sword practice.
For one, he could feel what was wrong with his Overhead Slash.
The man's memories of thousands of failures told him exactly what they were. Even those failures felt like pleasure now.
That night, Ban didn't let go of the sword until the moon set.
§
After getting his hands on the sword, Ban snuck out whenever he could, lost in training. He knew a long tail would get him caught eventually, but even accounting for that, the thrill of finally grasping swordsmanship was irresistible.
His Overhead Slash improved: yesterday's worse than today's, a moment ago's worse than now. He learned bit by bit how not to 'fail' it. He still couldn't gauge true perfection.
But feeling his trajectory and muscle power inch toward ideal balance filled him with joy that drowned out any soreness.
Of course, that didn't erase the questions. The closer he got to proper form, the more spare mental space he had, the more he obsessed over the mystery behind this change.
'Why did Master quit the sword?'
Ban pictured Jensen from the sword's memories: a man pouring everything into dogged Overhead Slashes. His skill wasn't world-shaking—even a sword novice like Ban could tell—but that made it more impressive. His growth was slow, yet his effort never wavered.
He couldn't just ask. And there was a more pressing issue.
"...What? What'd you say?"
"Lend me your sword. Just for a sec."
"You nuts? Asking a guard for his sword?"
Dolbi glared at him in disbelief. The guy had always been full of bravado since they were kids. Dolbi shook his head.
"Dude, quit dreaming and stick to making potions. Swords don't suit bookworms like you."
"Come on, just let me touch it once. I'll buy you booze."
"B-booze? ...No way! A sword's a swordsman's soul."
Ban remembered Dolbi boasting the worst skills at the training grounds. Dolbi backed away, feigning sternness. It made sense—guards had their own rules.
But Ban couldn't back down. Touching Dolbi's sword was crucial.
Was reading the sword's memories just that sword being haunted... or his own ability? He needed to know to decide his path.
The signs pointed to his ability, but certainty was best. He was the type to tap a stone bridge before crossing.
No choice. Ban played his trump card.
"You've been lackluster with Yuri lately, right?"
"...H-how do you know that?"
"In a small village like this? Word spreads. Fine, I'll make you some. 'Man's Elixir.' Still refusing?"
"M-Man's Elixir?"
Dolbi's eyes went wide. Ban grinned. Yeah. No real man could resist that bait. Jensen called such crude potions beneath a pharmacist's dignity, but dignity wasn't the issue now.
"I can make you mutter Yuri's name nonstop. Just let me hold your sword a bit. No? Fine, I'll ask someone else."
"H-hey! W-wait. Who's refusing? Give me a sec to think!"
"Not giving you long."
"...Just holding it, right?"
Dolbi hesitated to the end but handed over the sword. Ban nodded and snatched it quick. As Ban stared blankly at it, Dolbi grew anxious.
"Hey, time's up?"
"..."
"Ban? Hey, Ban!"
"...Hey, Dolbi."
Ban's voice was dazed. Joy and excitement twisted his lips.
"I'm gonna be a swordsman."
"What? What's that nonsense out of nowhere?"
"I said I'm gonna be a swordsman."
[ You have gripped the crude longsword of 'Novice Swordsman Without Specialties.' ]
The moment Ban knew for sure.
He was going to be a swordsman.
Not an ordinary one, but a truly special one.