The Sword Child Who Mocks the Heavens

Is your head on straight?

You're telling me I have holy power?

Cheon Hwi froze where he stood, Cecilia still dangling from his grip on her collar, as if that single sentence had cracked the logic of the world itself. A breath later he gathered himself and spoke on.

"Child. I am quite certain I told you I would kill you if you did not speak plainly. Did you take that for a lie?"

Holy power.

By what Cecilia had said a moment ago, it was the sacred power of a god, and it dwelt in his body. Hear the claim only a little differently, and it meant a human frame wielding the might of a god. Impossible. Even the famed abbot of Shaolin, even the sect leader of the Wudang Sect, merely took the Buddhist law or the Dao they had realized through training and put it to use as internal energy. They did not borrow the power of the Buddha, nor of the Grand Supreme Elderly Lord.

Suspicion deepened, and the hand closed around Cecilia's neck tightened with it.

"To begin with, what exactly is this 'holy power'? A mere human using the power of a god is absurd on its face."

"You... truly... don't... know?"

"Don't know? And what is it you claim I do not know?"

Lifted clear of the floor, Cecilia's eyes glittered. There were no tears, and no fear. The grip on her throat strangled the words, yet her face was a tangle of expectation and certainty.

"First... please let me go. I'll... tell you everything..."

"Try anything foolish, and know that this time I truly will kill you."

Cheon Hwi let go and flung her to the floor.

"Good. Speak, then. What this holy power you spoke of actually is, and why you thought I had it."

"...Holy power is the power of God, yes. To the faithful who believe in God, God grants holy power."

"Right. Expecting the common sense of the original world in this one was a mistake from the start."

"The original world...?"

Tch. A loose tongue is a thing one cannot afford. That was a slip.

"It is no concern of yours. So. Why did you think I possessed holy power?"

"I am the Saintess of this age, chosen by God. One of a Saintess's powers is to perceive, perfectly, anyone who bears holy power. There is no way someone like me could be wrong."

In theory, it held. As he had just told himself, dragging the common sense of a former life into the place where one had been reborn was a fool's habit, so he could grant even this much—a mere human using a god's power. He could also grant that one called a Saintess might judge the holy power in another. In his past life, he himself had been able to tell who carried inner energy.

But holy power, as she had said, was a strength a god bestowed on the faithful. He had loathed the very notion of religion in his past life, and he was supposed to possess holy power? No. Even if the personality that had lived in this body before he regained his memories had been devout enough to receive it, hadn't every scrap of that piety vanished the instant his memories returned? In his past life and in this one alike, he had founded the path of Heaven-Cleaving and walked it, precisely so he would never bow to the fate handed down by heaven—by the gods. Devout? He would have had nothing to say for himself even if a passing dog had laughed in his face.

"I am not devout, and I have never once felt holy power."

"Not yet...?"

Not yet?

This girl, Cecilia, kept fastening on the wrong part of what he said. For her to meet his ignorance of holy power with not yet—she seemed convinced he had it.

Wait. Surely not.

"Do you mean holy power is this?"

His inner energy was, quite literally, Nothingness. It held no color whatsoever. And yet that very absence gave it a character of its own, a paradoxical force. To call this strange energy the purest in the world would be no exaggeration, and so it might well look identical to holy power.

If the thing that calls itself a god were fouler than a human's energy, it ought to hand the name of god back.

The thought finished, Cheon Hwi gathered his energy into his sword at once and showed her the shape of his qi.

"Is this the holy power you spoke of?"

Surely it was. He asked already half certain, and the answer came back the other way.

"No. It is as pure as holy power, but it is not holy power."

Then what in the world was holy power supposed to be? As if she had read the question off his face, Cecilia showed him the thing itself.

"Holy power means something like this."

Warm.

It was nothing like the heat of fire-qi, that searing warmth of blazing yang. This was a gentleness like sunlight. Riding the energy was a benevolence that felt as though it could embrace anything at all. Unlike inner energy that was merely pure, this was a power that truly deserved to be called a god's.

"This is holy power. And you definitely have it. Entering the Swordsmanship Faculty without even being able to use magic, and persuading a professor anyway... that doesn't make any sense."

"Persuasion is well within what I can do. Setting that aside—so you tailed me?"

"It's surveillance. Calling it tailing makes it sound impious."

"You are being impious right now. But very well. I shall not kill you."

Cecilia let out a short, thin breath. Her expression did not change.

"So it is certain that there is holy power in my body?"

"Certain. It is the kind of power I can sense as the Saintess. Holy power of very high purity, at that. Perhaps..."

"...Hah."

Cheon Hwi raked a hand through his hair and stepped back. The matter was tangling tighter by the moment.

If I truly have holy power...

He sighed and looked down at her where she sat on the floor.

I didn't say so to Cecilia, but that energy is awfully familiar.

Holy power. He had not so much as heard of the force, let alone lived through it. Not his past self, at any rate.

Don't tell me... this body I was born into again carries an attribute like that...?

Without meaning to, he looked at his left hand. The hand he used when forging a dantian for his disciples. The vibration and the waves that had come from those fingertips had been qi, unmistakably. Not holy power.

He turned it over a moment, and settled it.

Enough. No need to know.

"You have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠told me a number of things, so I will let it pass this time."

"This time, you might truly be a Singularity..."

"...What kind of bullshit is that."

A Singularity. And what was that supposed to be. This world was crammed with things he did not know, in any case.

"Enough. Have you told anyone else about this?"

"I haven't. If I had, the knight order would already have come."

"...Fine. Say nothing of it to anyone else. Now go."

"Yes. In return, may I come here tomorrow and watch the training myself...?"

"...Do so."

Watching would not let her copy it, nor would she ever make another soul understand it, so it hardly mattered. Better, from the start, to keep that dangerous variable close and under his eye than to drive her off somewhere far away. With that thought he gave his brief permission, and Cecilia took her leave at once.

She left more meekly than I expected.

The day seemed to have more than its share of tiring business.

The next morning.

A sigh of despair drifted through the dormitory.

"So we're... doing it again today..."

Hyeon lay groaning with the blanket pulled over her head, and Seol kept her mouth shut tight and said nothing at all.

Because they hurt? Quite the opposite. They were, if anything, absurdly full of life. Yesterday their organs had felt knotted together and their very bones scraped raw, and yet they had slept and woken overflowing with strength. If only they were still in pain, they might have pushed that suffering back, even a little...

"Why am I fine...?"

"...I've gotten lighter."

Hyeon nodded. She could feel it plainly. Her body itself had grown stronger.

"Is this... what a dantian is?"

At that, every one of them fell silent together. And then, with uncanny precision, they arrived at a single conclusion.

"Even so, I don't want to do it again."

How was a person supposed to keep this up? Only yesterday they had come within a breath of weeping and screaming. But what choice was there. They had to go.

When Hyeon and Seol reached the Underground Training Ground, Cheon Hwi was there ahead of them once again, and he greeted them.

"Good. You have all come. Still, today ought to be more bearable than yesterday."

"Really?"

"Yesterday I tore your meridians open by force in order to forge a dantian. All that remains is to pass energy along those opened meridians, so it will hurt less."

Not even rain at the end of a long drought could have been sweeter than that news.

Cheon Hwi came over slowly and looked at his disciples, then added, in a tone unlike yesterday's:

"From here on, you must lead the energy inside your own bodies. I cannot keep laying hands on you forever."

"You mean... on our own?"

"We will begin by learning to let the energy flow."

Hyeon stepped forward first.

"I can do it. Compared to yesterday... I'm starting to get a feel for it."

A faint smile touched Cheon Hwi's mouth.

"As expected. Your talent, at least, is exceptional."

Hyeon and Seol sat at once and began to let the energy flow. It was still incomplete, a crooked force—but set it right one piece at a time, and in the end it would be whole.

"By the way."

Cheon Hwi spoke slowly.

"Someone may come today."

The disciples lifted their heads as one.

"Who?"

"Mm. There is one troublesome person... just in case."

He recalled what Cecilia had left him with the day before.

He had already given her leave to come, so if she meant to come, he would rather she came quickly. The thought had scarcely finished forming.

"Hello."

Cecilia appeared in the Underground Training Ground, and it ended there.

"I am Cecilia, Saintess of this age. I was curious about Sir Cheon Hwi's training, so I came to observe."

She ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠offered the greeting brightly, with the mild, gentle smile peculiar to a Saintess. Man or woman, young or old, anyone who saw that smile would have warmed to her and fallen a little in love. For the disciples, nothing remained but questions.

Commoners by birth, they had hardly been raised in any great nobility, but they could swear that not one commoner alive had ever endured training like this. And she meant to observe such training because she was curious?

They snapped at once into a state of emergency. A commoner with no family might have been smoothed over somehow. This one was the Saintess of the age. Let her be hurt in a student's lesson—not even an academy class—and the holy knights would kill Cheon Hwi and then every last one of them after him.

Don't come! Don't come! A Saintess is supposed to live softly!

Is your head on straight?

For the Saintess's sake and their own, they hurled every look they had.

What sort of training could he be putting them through, for them to be suffering like this...

She could not tell precisely what was happening or how, but one thing reached her with perfect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clarity. Cheon Hwi's training was not something a person could call mere curiosity. Cecilia hurried to correct herself.

"Th-then, since it's my first time, would it be all right if I only watched?"

"Do as you like."

Unexpectedly, Cheon Hwi accepted the request with ease. For the disciples, it was a mercy. Deep down, though, a twinge of disappointment stirred as well, and they did their best to look away from it.

"In return, if any of you need healing, I'll heal you anytime!"

"Oh?"

If it was going to be like this, they should never have tried to stop her. They should have told her to come and suffer with them.

She was offering to heal them, so why the gloom? Because healing meant recovery, and recovery meant a fresh bout of sparring. Until now, faint and you earned a moment's rest. Accept the healing, and you weren't even allowed to faint!

"If the Saintess says so, it is trustworthy enough. Then today, we spar."

Perhaps Cheon Hwi had reached the same conclusion, for he took her offer at once.

"You're lying...?"

"I have never told a lie in my life. What are you waiting for? Take up your swords."

That traitor!

They had thought a Saintess would be merciful and fond of peace, and here she was, handing decent people over to a devil of the mortal world! Stunned at the betrayal, the disciples trudged off to fetch their swords, and the sparring began.

"Nnngh—"

That insane Saintess. If that was a Saintess, then a demon was an angel.

Before, one solid blow and they fainted, and for that while they could rest. Now that they had dantians they hardly fainted at all, and even when they did she kept restoring them, so there was no gap left to breathe. Had it been only them getting healed, they might have forced the pace anyway—but she was healing Cheon Hwi as well.

"Later, let's put that so-called Saintess through the training too."

This pain—no, this luxury—was far too fine to enjoy alone, wasn't it? A Saintess, of all people, would have been raised like a treasured thing. Frail, surely. Tormen— ahem. The words kept coming out crooked.

Give her even a month of Cheon Hwi's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠training, and that body of hers would be hale in no time.

"Agreed."

Seol seconded Hyeon's words.

Why drag a blameless Saintess down into hell? Now, now! This was a virtuous wish, for the Saintess's own health—who would dare call it slander? It was absolutely not because they meant to repay a kindness with spite, and therefore saw no reason to go on receiving it!

And Cheon Hwi, sparring without end on the strength of that recovery, had looked perfectly pleased, so he would be pleased as well.

While the disciples nursed these affectionate (?) thoughts, the Saintess in question had already taken her leave, and in the dormitory she was gazing at a book that shed a faint light. The book breathed out a golden energy, and a white radiance lent it a sacred air. Within it, a strange sentence was written.

"As I thought. You were a Singularity."