Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Five Swords of Ban (1)
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"……Failure."
"I'm sorry, Commander. It seems the academy students were stronger than we thought."
"It's fine. When have things ever gone our way in this world? If they had, the North wouldn't…… have ended up like this."
The man called Commander slowly looked around. It was a collapsed building. Or rather, a ruined castle might be a better description. Things that could have been bookshelves or walls surrounded them on all sides, and pale gray wraiths gazed down at torn books with gloomy expressions.
"Did you find Benzen's soul?"
"……Yes. Here it is. But it seems he was hit by White Flame……"
"It's fine. As long as some fragments remain."
The Commander took the box from his subordinate. He gazed at the ominous black energy flickering inside the small wooden box and gave a bitter smile.
"After all these years of hardship, it ends like this. I'm sorry, Benzen."
Each time the Commander's hand touched it, Benzen's soul wailed like a babbling infant. A mournful light seemed to flicker in the Commander's eyes, but soon his voice fell flat and emotionless.
"And I'll apologize once more. For not even being able to let your last remaining soul go free."
It was at that moment. A tearing scream seemed to erupt from Benzen's soul, and then it began to get sucked into the Commander's palm. Everything Benzen had left in this world was slowly absorbed. His mind. His memories. From eating habits to all sorts of minute recollections.
And the subordinate watching the Commander's face was startled in that instant. An expression he hadn't seen in decades appeared on the Commander's face. As if he were truly 'alive'……
The Commander opened his mouth.
"……You've come."
"Yes……?"
"He's finally come. The promised one."
Sorrow. Ecstasy. Longing and guilt. Emotions that an ordinary person might express over a lifetime flashed across his voice and face in the blink of an eye.
"The savior who will end this filthy history."
§
It was a foggy day.
As they watched Serifa's remains burn away in the White Flame, the academy trainees couldn't utter a word.
There were still three missing people out there. Whether they had gone missing because of the Wraith Legion that Ban's group had encountered, or for some other reason, no one knew…… But one thing was certain: the training camp could no longer continue.
"Any last words?"
"Heh…… The kingdom is rotten. My family is waiting for me. Send me on my way!"
Finding the warehouse keeper who had leaked the White Flame Powder hadn't been difficult. Even as the axe blade crossed his neck, the warehouse keeper was smiling. Though fear had soaked his face in tears, the pride shining through them was clear—as if he had merely done what needed to be done.
That defiance enraged Ban.
'……Senior Serifa wasn't someone who deserved to die.'
Yet the man who had contributed to her death could smile as if he alone held justice and die like that. How could he look down on them as if they were the villains?
Was war always like this? Had he simply been the only one unaware of it? He couldn't say. All he knew was that the weight of the sword on his back…… felt a little unfamiliar compared to before.
The strong win, the weak lose. The strong live, the weak die. It was logic he had taken for granted. And logic he had liked. If the world was ruled by the law of the jungle, then all he had to do was become strong. It was far simpler than mixing all sorts of herbs and worrying about human constitutions and side effects as an apothecary.
That's what he had thought.
"……I feel lost."
On the way back to the academy. It was nighttime during his watch shift. Anya muttered while hugging her knees.
"As a member of the Nahar Clan, I thought all I had to do was…… light the fire. But that's not all there is to it."
"……We're still students. It's natural to be lacking."
"Maybe. But if that's the case, was Senior Serifa's death natural too?"
"I've made up my mind, Ban."
"About what?"
"I'm going to get stronger."
Anya clenched her fist. It was a small, white fist. Yet to Ban, it didn't look small at all. Anya cried. She ground her teeth through her tears.
"I'm going to get so strong that no one around me dies because of me ever again."
"……Yeah."
Ban couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Let's do that."
Even after his watch shift ended, Ban couldn't fall asleep easily. Inside the tent, he drew Yuri's broadsword, which he hadn't held since the border incident.
[ You have grasped the broadsword of the 'Deflecting Goblin.' ]
Material: Steel
Quality: Legendary
Owner: Yuri (5-Star)
Memory Preservation Rate: High
Note: The soul of a swordsman who deflected all attacks is dwelling within.
The description was different from before. But that didn't surprise Ban. What would truly surprise him wasn't just those few words.
— You've finally grasped me. Have you sorted out your feelings, junior?
"……Pleased to meet you, Senior."
Ban said in a low voice. His complicated gaze turned toward his sword.
"I have some stories I'd like to hear. Will you answer me?"
§
"……So, you don't remember anything about the North?"
— It feels like I should…… but I don't. Memories are clear when I had this sword…… but I didn't hold it after graduation. Maybe that's why?
"They said the kingdom abandoned the North. As if…… they deliberately let it fall."
—……Not something I want to imagine.
Yuri spoke in a bitter voice. It had been a life devoted to the kingdom. To learn that the kingdom had abandoned him to die at the end? It wasn't welcome news.
Ban sank into silent thought. He recalled what Oben of the Revolutionary Corps—no, the rebels—had said. Do you know how ugly the kingdom you serve is?
Honestly, he hadn't paid much attention then. The village he grew up in was peaceful, unlike the borderlands, a place where not even the Seeds of the Night could be seen.
But after meeting the Wraith Legion leader, glimpsing the sorrow and pride hidden behind that negative energy called 'han'…… And seeing the warehouse keeper face death without regret, Ban realized he had overlooked the most important thing as a swordsman all this time.
Who his sword would serve.
People called him a warrior of the Cho Clan, but in truth, Ban could hardly be considered part of it. He had been allowed to learn the Cho Clan's teachings as payment for helping Urong, not because he had pledged loyalty to become their warrior.
So whose sword was he? His own? The kingdom's? The academy's? It wasn't something he could define neatly. The one thing he could say confidently was this.
'……The rebellion has to end.'
That was the conclusion Ban reached. Their justice might even be right. But if that justice led to the deaths of innocent people like Serifa…… Ban no longer cared what their cause was.
As Anya said, he had to protect the people around him.
The people of the Cho Clan, the people of the academy.
His friends.
§
"You're putting too much strength into it."
"Your attacks are too straightforward. Aren't you relying too much on White Flame?"
"Don't rush in so much. The staff's advantage is keeping distance. Why are you giving that up?"
After returning to the academy, Anya would often challenge Ban to spars. To be precise, it was more like private lessons disguised as spars.
Without the power of White Flame, Anya's staff wasn't all that threatening. In terms of martial skill, Ban was overwhelmingly superior. No—in pure martial prowess, among the first-years, only Shade could even compare to him.
Those were days when he staked everything on getting stronger. Ban lived with a sword in hand all day. He had learned that weakness could sometimes mean losing everything. As such, he could no longer tolerate his own frailty.
He took shame in the fact that no metallic tang came from his mouth.
No matter how strong the opponent, he accepted every defeat with frustration.
He stopped thinking it was inevitable due to lacking the blessings of nobles or the Nine Great Clans.
Yeoryeong's sword was heavy. Cheon's sword was crafty, and Anya's White Flame blazed so hot he could barely approach.
Jeo's beast-like movements, attuned to all sorts of wild senses, were hard to follow, and his stamina was far superior.
Against peers, especially nobles…… they each had at least one reason to be stronger. Faster, tougher, flying through the sky, sinking into the earth.
So Ban had to find his own inescapable reason to be stronger than them.
And that reason had been set from the beginning.
He didn't stick to Yuri's broadsword. He gripped the shortsword of the 'Swordsman Who Cuts Only What He Desires.' The rapier of the 'Swordsman Who Pierces Steel.' The kukri of the 'Swordsman of Unquenchable Flame.' The jian of the 'Swordsman Who Cuts Swallows.'
He couldn't fully master the memories of every sword. Due to differing physical conditions, missing blessings, incomplete memories, or techniques too advanced.
Even so, fragmented swordsmanship…… was still swordsmanship.
He adapted techniques that didn't suit him. He absorbed the experiences of his predecessors. He too stood before the monsters they had faced. Depending on whether the memory preservation rate was low or medium, he made all their experiences his own.
He charged not just at classmates but at seniors too. Even Shade, with whom he barely spoke, sparred with him repeatedly to vividly etch the experience of facing a dual-wield swordsman.
He ran. He saw, felt. He learned from professors' lectures, from seniors' experiences. And like Qi for everyone else, his efforts were duly rewarded.
Ban could now sprint at near warhorse speeds in bursts. He could spot a bird's eyeball in flight.
Thus, as the third-year winter approached.
The Cho Clan's sword of immense strength was still heavy.
But he had learned to deflect that weight entirely.
The Iseo Clan, who foresaw the future, read his sword path as always.
But he mastered a swift strike they couldn't react to even knowing it.
To fight Eustaine with tireless stamina and beastly agility,
He learned to fight conserving energy,
To face those purely stronger without blessings,
He pushed his swordsmanship to the limit.
Thus, in the third-year winter.
"……Unbelievable."
Jeo stared at his own broken nails and swallowed a hollow breath.
A story that had started to feel all too natural.
Everyone agreed: Among third-years, Yeoryeong had the greatest strength, Jeo the most tenacity, Anya the most flair, and Ban was the strongest.
The Five Swords of Ban.