Chapter 73
Chapter 73
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 73
Chapter Title: What Does the Sword Cut? (4)
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The situation didn’t make sense. Why was he lying down, and why was Ropo looking at him like that? Just moments ago, they had been...
Ban’s face darkened. The events before he lost consciousness slowly came back to him. He slashed and slashed again. When his stamina ran out, his mental strength kept him going; when even that was depleted, his primal instinct to survive drove him on.
Each swing of his sword, each parry, each brush with death pushed Ban’s awareness higher. The wall that always blocked him seemed to finally reveal what lay beyond. He was growing stronger, his blade sharper and sharper...
But in the end, Ban collapsed.
It was Ropo’s sword.
It was only natural. Ropo was so formidable that even in a one-on-one duel, victory seemed impossible. The fact that Ban had held out against him and the vampires for so long was bizarre in itself.
“...I lost.”
“Yeah. You did.”
“Why am I still alive?”
Ban looked up at Ropo. Ropo gazed down at him silently. Ban tried to sit up, winced, and leaned back against the bed. Every joint throbbed and ached. He wondered if there was a single uninjured spot on his body. Ropo answered quietly.
“There was no reason to kill you.”
“...Your blood and your kin’s is all over my sword.”
“It’s the blood we wanted on it.”
The words were hard to grasp. Instead of looking at Ban, Ropo stared out the window at the gathering storm clouds. He murmured in a voice laced with an obsession built over centuries.
“It’s strange. Back when we were certain we’d all meet death equally someday, no one thought about endings. But after gaining immortality, we all started dreaming only of the end that would someday come.”
“...Is that what you hoped for?”
“Thank you.”
Ropo smiled faintly. Traces of the battle still marked his body vividly, yet he exuded an oddly calm aura. He continued softly.
“Do you think we’ve been living for anything, trapped in a place like this?”
“I don’t know. ...Revenge, maybe?”
“Revenge, huh. Yeah, I thought about it once. But I couldn’t figure out who to take it on.”
“Erok... wasn’t he the one who did this to you?”
“That was mercy.”
Ropo gazed bitterly at the storm clouds. Rain poured down. Water seeped through the half-broken window, trickling down the wall to form a small stream. The rain was so fierce it stung the ears, yet its roar somehow amplified a bizarre silence that felt heavier than no sound at all.
“The lady never had the nobles’ love. She couldn’t. Born a commoner, she wielded noble power. Worse, her power could grant that same strength to other commoners. When she gained immortality, the nobles’ backlash peaked... and the king declared: Make the undying eternally dead.”
“...And Erok saved you from that?”
“She begged the king. To spare their lives, at least. For her sake, don’t cast them out. The king replied:
‘Then will you curse them? Turn their immortality from blessing to punishment? Are you ready to grant them a life of waiting eternally for the end, in places eyes and ears can’t reach, hidden from the world?’”
That reply stood before Ban now. Gazing at the man worn and weathered by time—able to shed blood but not tears—Ban had no response.
Who was the villain in this story?
Wondering that now might mean he was still a child. But that childish heart held goodness too. Ban sought villains not to wish suffering on them alone, but because it hurt to see everyone suffer imperfectly or cruelly when no one was purely evil.
“His curse, and its fulfillment, must mean they truly cared for each other.”
The power of Word Command depended on relationships. The people of Ballgot gained incomparable coercive force the moment they became king.
This curse was the child born of their love. A truly cursed child.
“When we were first trapped in this castle, we did our best in our own way. We tended the grounds, tilled the soil. Even if we couldn’t taste sweetness in anything but blood, even if we grew to hate that forest beyond reason... we protected the lady. For about a century, at least.”
“People grew weary. They went mad. How could they not? I might be mad myself already. No, I am. Many tried to leave the forest. Some succeeded, some failed. Some even tried to kill Erok to end the curse—knowing full well it had been with us too long to end with his death.”
“All we could wait for was death. Sometimes wanderers braved Ustain’s Forest to beg our power. We gave them that blessing—no, curse—knowing they’d regret it. We were too exhausted for warnings or explanations.”
“The lady started saying she wanted to die. Day after day, death brushed past her, and it wore her down. But we couldn’t grant her that.
Because we’d die too? No, that’s not it. We all owed her so much. How could we say anything when we hadn’t repaid a thing? Just let her seek death like that. At least we couldn’t—not like the others.”
“...And yet, we might have hoped she’d finally be free of it all.”
“That we’d finally receive death alongside her...”
Ban listened quietly to Ropo’s words. Then, slowly, he pushed himself up from the bed. Pain like breaking bones stole his breath, but he gasped through it and sat up to face Ropo.
“Why tell me all this?”
“There was hesitation in your sword.”
Ropo smiled warmly, as if he were Ban’s own grandfather.
“Then at some point, you lost it. Yeah, you did. Calling it overcoming feels off. Probably because of those friends who took the lady—maybe they were the trigger? But... it wasn’t enough.”
Yeah. It wasn’t enough. For the first time, Ban felt that reasons didn’t always justify the sword. Or maybe he’d always known. Watching the standoff between the Revolutionary Corps and the kingdom’s army, hearing their empty words—he might have accepted that reasons for fighting didn’t really exist.
“A young man who wields a blade while questioning if it’s for the right cause is rare. In the end, you never struck viciously at anyone. You couldn’t. I liked that. Could that be your reason?”
“...Was this a fight to lose from the start?”
Ban deflated. He’d fought so hard to survive, only to realize his opponents might have wanted him to hold them back until the end.
Ropo asked.
“Can you stand?”
“This much... ngh.”
Ban grimaced but forced himself to his feet. Ropo spoke in a steady voice.
“I heard about the trouble with the Seonwoo Clan.”
“...You knew?”
“Your skill’s decent, but not enough to swing that demon sword without cost. The answer’s obvious.”
“Yeah, I figured that thing shouldn’t be drawn anywhere.”
Ban sighed and shook his head. It was supposed to be his secret lifeline, yet everyone saw through it easily.
“Do you hate the kingdom?”
“...I’m from Citadel Academy.”
“That’s no reason not to hate it.”
“The Revolutionary Corps’ words are just anger in the end.”
I don’t want to live in rage and die like that. That was Ban’s meaning. He looked at Ropo and asked back.
“Do you hate the kingdom?”
“There’s plenty of reason. They took my life, my family, my friends. They never gave, only took. How could I love that? But... you know what? Like love, hate wears out too.”
Ropo drew his sword. Ban quietly stepped back, eyeing the blade aimed at his throat.
“I thought you meant to let me live.”
“If you can survive.”
Ropo’s sword shot forward. A bolt of a strike. In his exhausted state, right after standing—no way to respond.
Yet why did it feel utterly unthreatening?
Ban simply stepped back half a pace to evade it. The tip, which had extended to a finger’s breadth from his eye, slowly retracted toward Ropo.
‘...Slow? No. Fast. But I see it.’
It was bizarre. Reason said he shouldn’t have dodged the strike from moments ago. Even if he did, not this cleanly.
But instinct said otherwise. It told Ban: Ropo’s blade wouldn’t reach him, no matter what.
Which was right? The answer came in Ropo’s follow-up attacks. He swung: two prongs, three streaks, four branches, five streams. Thrusts and slashes pouring from every direction at once—impossible to dodge while armed...
Yet Ban evaded them all with footwork alone.
“Impressive?”
“...What is this?”
“Without real intent behind the cuts, you’re no easy opponent. And you’ve grown even more. I didn’t expect you to slip my blade so easily... As expected of the Seonwoo Guardian.”
“Are you evaluating me, sparring, or trying to kill me?”
“I want to leave a mark.”
Ropo said in a low voice.
“Hundreds of years guarding the lady... but what did I guard for myself? Thinking on it, all that remains is this one sword.”
Ropo sheathed his blade. As Ban swallowed hard, Ropo quietly offered it to him hilt-first.
“Will you take it?”
“...Do I deserve such kindness? Even if you had no intent to kill, I attacked you, kidnapped the lady...”
“Yeah. You did. But that’s exactly what the world did to us. And that’s why I want to leave my will with you. That sword in your hand will bear witness. Those they cast out for disrupting the world... even gave gifts, not revenge, to the one who tracked mud into their home. Their hatred and fear were wrong.”
Ban was speechless. Ropo was a master swordsman, and his long-used blade held countless memories... but that joy wasn’t enough to lift him now. Shame and defeat weighed him down.
‘I lost. Completely.’
Ropo understood Ban’s silence. Instead of forcing the sword into his hand, he turned back to the storm clouds.
“I wonder what conversation the lady’s having now... Heh, pity I can’t see it.”
“...Why?”
Ban said in a dazed voice.
“Why’d you all have to end up like this? What did you do wrong? You were just... living.”
“Then I’ll ask you. Why did you point your sword at us? Beyond saving your friend... what was the deeper reason?”
“...I, I...”
He thought of reasons. To find the Guardian’s Sword. When told to kidnap a vampire, he assumed they were evil. To protect the fleeing Munet and Arotep, he had to stall, and...
Ban searched his mind for reasons. But the more he found, the more he faced another truth.
In truth, he had no reason to cut them.
He shouldn’t have.
“The law of the jungle: the weak are prey for the strong. But banking on your hesitation, I ask... can you accept living as beasts?”
Not a beast’s life. A swordsman’s. But before Ropo, Ban couldn’t say it. Even if they wanted it, his sword had ruined their lives. Could the hopelessness of that life absolve him?
Ropo extended his bamboo sword again.
“If you’re tired of the beast’s life, take this.”
He continued.
“And with my sword, cut what it could never cut in this world.”