Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Paths to Success (3)
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"......What is this?"
It was incomparable to the dream of Sword God Ban. Even knowing it was a dream, everything felt so vivid that he wondered if it really was just a dream.
It was a pure white space. The only things that existed were Lucas and his shortsword.
Yet, for some reason, this world felt full to the brim.
[ Syncing with the Voice of the Sword. ]
[ Memory preservation rate of this sword: 'Low'. ]
[ Memory playback point is forcibly fixed. ]
Ban became Lucas. It was a completely different sensation from when he gripped a sword to absorb its memories.
The sword's memories weren't unfolding beyond the path he drew with his sword. The path he drew itself was the sword's memory.
Right now, he was Lucas.
He swung the sword countless times. Thrusting, overhead slashing, upward slashing, sideways slashing. Mixing in feints, blocking incoming strikes, slashing in zigzags.
It was perfect.
Of course it was. The one swinging the sword now wasn't Ban—it was Lucas. But at the same time, it was also Ban. It was a strange feeling. The boundary of the self blurring. Like Lucas was drawing the sword, and he was becoming Lucas.
Once more, the sword flash gleamed.
The world was still pure white. Because of that, his gaze didn't need to be stolen by anything else. Focusing solely on the tip of the sword, on the weight pressing into his palm...
"Uh..."
"You're awake?"
Dolbi glanced down at Ban.
"Get up. It's dawn."
§
'Ah, I should've just hugged the sword and slept earlier.'
Ban swallowed a sigh inwardly. He hadn't imagined the Voice of the Sword would activate even in his dreams.
The most shocking part was the sensation of gripping it in the dream. It wasn't just the feeling of swinging the sword that lingered—it was why he swung it that way, how much force to put in which parts, even Lucas's thoughts. He already knew them all.
It could be said that in that moment, he perfectly understood Lucas's level. As mentioned, he had been Lucas at that time.
It was something that had been bothering him more and more as his skills improved. To perfectly absorb Lucas's swordsmanship, their physical conditions differed. Their builds were similar, but subtle differences like arm length were unavoidable.
But now, it was fine. Peeking into Lucas's thoughts meant understanding the fundamentals of his sword path. With that, dreaming a few more times should make it not too hard to adapt Lucas's sword techniques to his own style.
'If even a 'Low' preservation rate gives me this much... what would 'Medium' or 'High' be like?'
That made him think it wouldn't be bad to ask Urong for famous swordsmen's swords as gifts. If he gripped a world-class swordsman's blade and trained with it for years, wouldn't that mean he could reach that swordsman's realm?
His throat was parched even though he'd already drunk water. Whenever the horse rested, Ban stood in place and swung his sword. His legs trembled from gripping the horse's body all day, but he feared forgetting the swordsmanship he'd glimpsed in the dream if he stayed still.
[ The Voice of the Sword is with you. ]
[ The swordsmanship of the 'Talented Swordsman' is at the Embodiment stage. ]
The alert windows appeared and vanished in the corner of his vision. Ban ignored them and silently swung his shortsword. It was different from usual. If his usual self had been imitating Lucas's swordsmanship, now, even if subtly...
'......So this is what it means to swing a sword.'
It made him ashamed of ever thinking of himself as a swordsman before. He hadn't been swinging the sword as a swordsman—he'd just been mimicking them like a copycat. Of course, even that mimicry had people calling him a genius without hesitation...
He didn't hate that shame. Ban couldn't hold back a laugh. Knowing how much he lacked meant he could grow that much. Knowing the joy of growing stronger, he was grateful even for realizing his current shortcomings.
And Urong watched such a Ban with a peculiar expression.
"......Are you interested in that young man?"
Urong's knight, Gintnel, asked. The man had such thick sandy beard growth that even his lips were barely visible. Urong grinned and replied.
"You know it well yourself, Jin. The ones who can become knights, and the ones who can't."
"When you're older, you can tell a lot just by looking at the sprouts."
"What do you think of that guy's sprout?"
Urong asked without taking his eyes off Ban. Gintnel quietly observed Ban. It was sharp swordsmanship. Hard to call it complete, but glimpsing the talent hidden in every minor feint wasn't difficult.
"If he grew to that level in some backwater village, with a proper environment, he'd be beyond reproach. Becoming a knight wouldn't even be an issue. That skill doesn't look like just a year's training."
"Right?"
Urong smiled happily. He liked Ban. Dreaming impossible dreams like becoming the world's strongest. And pouring sweat worthy of that dream.
Urong waited until Ban finished training. As soon as Ban wiped his sweat and sat down, Urong approached and offered him water.
"Hot, huh?"
"Ah, thank you. Yeah, a bit."
"Don't train too hard. You know we're on the run, right?"
"Just loosening up a little."
It was quite intense for 'just loosening up,' but it wasn't a lie. Ban, who had climbed mountains regularly since childhood, still had plenty of energy. Riding a horse consumed stamina, but compared to mountain climbing, it was nothing.
"I've been thinking. About the dream you mentioned—how I can help make it happen?"
"Is there a way?"
"Once this is over, I'm planning to enter the capital's academy. Where descendants of great bloodlines and talented folks like you gather. Want to come with?"
"......Me?"
"Of course, you'd have to take some exams, but you're dreaming of being the world's strongest—surely you won't fail something like an entrance exam. I'll be your sponsor. Are you ready to leave the village and head to the capital?"
It wasn't even worth considering. Ban looked at Urong with eyes still burning hot.
"I can't become the world's strongest staying in the village."
§
For ones being chased, they rode quite peacefully. Ban hugged the sword to sleep every night and trained whenever there was a chance. Even the guards who knew him well were awed by his diligence.
'2-Star is close.'
His instinct as a swordsman told him so. The wall he faced was finally showing its end.
When he reached 1-Star as a swordsman, the biggest difference from 0-Star was learning how to swing a sword.
Then what was the 2-Star realm? Beyond simply knowing how to slash and thrust.
Every time he dreamed, Ban knew the answer, only to forget it upon waking. That made him swing his sword even harder. He thought, he felt. And in those moments, Ban was gradually becoming a swordsman from an ordinary boy.
It was the night before reaching the Cho Clan's territory. As usual, Ban hugged Lucas's shortsword and went to sleep. And he became Lucas, swinging the sword countless times.
Just as he finished his night watch and became Lucas again in the dream, Ban was suddenly ejected from the pure white space. The first things he saw were the dying embers of the campfire and God’s face dimly lit above them. With a tense expression, he said,
"Get up. The pursuers are close."
"......Pursuers?"
"Put your ear to the ground. You'll hear the hooves. At least five. Snap out of it."
"Do we have to fight?"
"The horses are still tired. I don't know how fresh theirs are, but probably not worse than ours. Better to ambush. Dolbi! Hide the horses. Make sure those filthy traitors can't even guess where we are."
"Yes, got it!"
"Ban. Follow me and set traps. You climbed mountains every day, so your night vision should be good."
"Yes."
Ban gripped his sword and stood. The enemies were coming. That fact alone chased away his sleepiness in an instant. To the point where he wondered if he'd really been sleepy.
Perhaps because he was a hunter, God navigated the forest paths more easily than Ban. As he tied ropes between trees, God muttered,
"Damn. Whatever it is, my life never goes easy. Hey, Ban. Once this is over, take a ranch like Dolbi. What's the point of becoming the world's strongest? Life's better when it's easy and comfortable."
"Vice Commander, you've lived long enough to say that. I'm still at an age to dream."
"Bratty kids these days..."
"I'm going to the academy. Learn proper swordsmanship, hang out with cool people... and leave my name in history."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's go. Time to hide."
Soon, everyone hid in the bushes near the trees with the ropes. Aidan looked at Urong and asked. He was acting fine, but he'd appeared with serious injuries. He couldn't be fully recovered yet.
"Can you fight?"
But Urong laughed.
"You don't know what it means to be a member of the Cho Clan, do you, Captain? This injury is nothing. They should be the worried ones. That Cho Urong only took this much damage."
"......Hope the traps work. God, you're sure it's about five?"
"Horse count is at most six. Unless two per horse, it's certain. And if they pushed their horses that hard, they wouldn't have caught up here."
"Six means... one each."
No matter their level, it wouldn't be an easy fight.
Ban gripped his shortsword tightly. The real combat he'd longed for was coming.
Win, and he could go to the academy. That was secondary.
He wanted to swing his sword. Test his limits as a swordsman properly. His heart raced. His palms were sweaty and slick. It was undoubtedly the most dangerous moment of his life.
Yet why didn't he hate this tension?
Ban grinned like a wolf.
"............They're here."