The Sky He Finally Saw

He lifted his head, yet the end of it was nowhere to be seen — the piercingly blue azure sky. And there was the saying he'd heard so many times it had been drilled into his ears.

— The sword of Namgung must be high as that sky above, wide as it, and without a single stain.

Namgung Dan could never understand it. A sword was, by its very nature, a weapon of violence forged by hammering iron. Was it not made to cut, to pierce, to shatter? Why, then, was a man meant to clutch a killing blade and dream of that distant sky?

Lost in that discord, Namgung Dan gave up looking at the heavens. Instead, he turned his gaze downward. He abandoned the untouchable ideal and chose the path of crushing the enemy standing right before his eyes.

The result: he grew strong. But at the same time, he lost the color of Namgung. And so the clan, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the murim beyond it, came to call him the sword freak who had lost the sky — the Boundless Heavenly Sword Freak.

Namgung Dan never denied the epithet. He believed it was the price of the path he had chosen, and the highest place a man of Namgung who never looked at the sky could ever hope to reach. He had no regrets.

And yet.

Uuuuung—!

Before Namgung Dan's eyes now stretched another sky, unfurled by a nephew far too young. It was a sky of a different essence than the one he had once seen from the Clan Head, Namgung Mugang — endlessly blue and vast, so magnificent it seemed as though a second azure heaven had been laid over the world itself.

'So this is……'

Namgung Dan's eyes wavered.

'This is the azure sky you see.'

And then.

From Namgung Dan's sword burst the final stance of the Sky-Shattering Boundless Sword — Sky Collapse. The sword that sought to bring heaven crashing down and the sword that painted the heavens collided head-on.

KWAAAAAAANG—!

His vision flooded white. With a roar that split the ears, a strange sensation traveled up from Namgung Dan's fingertips — as though he had smashed down upon a massive boulder, only for that boulder to wrap around his blade, soft as cotton.

And in that very instant.

PAAT!

From within the aftermath of the collision, a single streak of azure light shot out. Before Namgung Dan could even react, a sharp edge raked across his forearm.

"……!"

A thin line of blood opened along Namgung Dan's arm. Even in the split second of clashing against Sky Collapse, the boy had found a gap and struck back.

'A vicious one, he is.'

But that was the limit. Against Namgung Dan's Sky Collapse, Namgung Cheon's azure sky slowly crumbled. The difference came from decades upon decades of internal energy, layered on layer — an abyss between them.

'Not yet. You're still not there.'

SHAAAAA—.

A dense cloud of dust swallowed the training grounds. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the earth to settle. They had all seen Namgung Dan's sword astral blanket the yard — not one of them believed Namgung Cheon could still be standing.

But then.

At the scene finally revealed, everyone drew a sharp, futile breath.

"……!"

The floor of the training grounds had been torn apart mercilessly — yet at the end of it, Namgung Cheon still stood. His clothes hung in tatters and his body was drenched in blood. But unmistakably, both his feet were planted on the ground — even if he was teetering on the support of his own sword, Changcheon.

"……."

Namgung Dan slowly lowered his sword. The sound of the blade returning to its sheath rang out, oddly loud in the silence. He walked forward, step by measured step, toward his nephew, who still stood ramrod straight. Bloodied from head to toe, Namgung Cheon's eyes nonetheless burned bright and clear.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A bittersweet yet exhilarated smile spread across Namgung Dan's lips.

"……You are remarkable."

His voice trembled, if only faintly.

"I have lived my whole life with my back turned to the sky. And yet……"

Namgung Dan reached out and gripped Namgung Cheon's blood-soaked shoulder.

"Thanks to you, I have seen the sky again."

The highest praise a warrior of Namgung could receive. Namgung Cheon looked up at him, gasping for breath. Even through his blurring vision, he could feel the sincerity etched into Namgung Dan's face. The corner of his mouth curled up, just slightly.

Seen the sky, he says.

Namgung Cheon shook his head.

'Not yet.'

Then he spoke, low and quiet.

"This is……"

His gaze turned toward the dais — toward Namgung Mugang, seated in the place of honor. For an instant, Namgung Cheon's eyes sharpened into perfect clarity.

"—only the beginning."

With those last words.

Slip.

Namgung Cheon's head dropped forward with a soft thud. The final thread of consciousness he had strained to the limit had finally snapped.

And yet.

"……!"

Though his body sagged and swayed, Namgung Cheon was still standing on both legs. Like Xing Tian, the battle god of legend, who fought on with axe and shield even after his head was severed.

At the sight, Namgung Dan burst out laughing.

"Hahahaha! What a vicious creature you are! Not a sword hero — a Battle Ghost!"

His laughter carried an indescribable euphoria. A hot flame roared to life in the depths of his chest. Where would this child's road end? 'How far can he reach?'

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Namgung Dan's gaze turned to the dais — to Namgung Mugang. The true sky of Namgung, of the entire murim — a man he dared not even look up at. The Sword Emperor. Facing him, Namgung Dan felt a corner of his chest constrict, tight and stifling. However endlessly he had run, his cousin Namgung Mugang had drifted that much further beyond him all over again.

'……The true sword freak is my cousin.'

A man who had already stood at the summit, still hungering for what lay beyond. He should have slowed at least once, even for a single moment — but Namgung Mugang never did.

"……."

Namgung Dan turned his head again and looked at Namgung Cheon, unconscious yet upright. If that boundless will could drive him toward the azure sky even faster than before — then perhaps, someday, he could truly touch that heaven.

And if so.

'Then I will make sure you do.'

Namgung Dan gently gathered the unconscious Namgung Cheon into his arms, still standing as he was. Then he turned at once and walked toward the dais.

Coming to a halt before it, he stared up at Namgung Mugang, unblinking. Their gazes locked in the air between them.

"Clan Head."

Namgung Dan spoke, his voice heavier than it had ever been. Namgung Mugang slowly rose from his seat. His indifferent gaze lingered for a moment on his son, then returned to Namgung Dan. His eyes deepened. He already knew — what Namgung Dan had seen, and what that look in his eyes meant.

"Speak."

Namgung Dan answered without hesitation.

"This child — I will take him for a time."

The elders on the dais stirred, but Namgung Dan spared them not a single glance. His eyes never left Namgung Mugang as he went on.

"Because I find it a pity. What's already there."

"……!"

Namgung Mugang's eyes flickered. Namgung Dan paused, then let out a dry laugh.

"Shouldn't we start refining it now, while there's still time?"

Namgung Mugang asked quietly.

"You will have no regrets?"

A short question. But Namgung Dan laughed it away with a roar.

"If I stand idle before timber this fine, wouldn't that be the greater sin?"

He looked down at Namgung Cheon in his arms.

"This child will manage it. He will see a world wider than my eyes ever could, and reach a sky higher than my sword ever will."

Namgung Dan's eyes flashed.

"So I intend to pave his road. So that he may soar — faster, and higher."

Conviction, deep beyond measure. Before his cousin's burning ardor for his own son, Namgung Mugang fell silent for a moment. At last he let out a short sigh and nodded.

"So be it. I grant you everything within the Jeongcheon Hall."

At the Clan Head's leave, Namgung Dan bowed his head with a satisfied smile.

"Thank you, Clan Head."

After a brief bow of respect, he hurriedly examined Namgung Cheon's condition. A faint, ragged tremor in his breathing — the strain of pushing past his limits had left his meridians unstable.

"Then, there's no time to lose — I'll take my leave."

The words had scarcely left his mouth when he stamped the ground.

TAK!

In an instant he shot dozens of feet into the air, then arced off the rooftop and streaked like an arrow toward the east, where the Jeongcheon Hall stood. In the blink of an eye, both their figures vanished from sight.

"……."

On the dais, Namgung Mugang stood with lips sealed, silently gazing at the eastern sky where they had disappeared. At last, a faint smile touched his mouth.

'Yes. Fly as high as you please.'

Until that day came.

I will not let the darkness of this world fall upon you.

The training grounds, emptied of Namgung Cheon and Namgung Dan — and now, even Namgung Mugang had left his seat. Only a heavy silence hung over the yard its masters had all abandoned.

The swordsmen of the Jinshan Sword Squadron stared, hollow-eyed, back and forth between the split ground and their own blades. Shock and helplessness filled their minds to the brim. They had felt, to the marrow, how paltry a lifetime of honed swordsmanship looked beneath the sky that young master barely past his twentieth year had shown them. A heavy air, crushed beneath the weight of defeat, pressed down upon the training grounds.

Then it happened. Jegal Hwa, the only one remaining on the dais, slowly descended the steps. Her footsteps rang out with perfect clarity across the silent yard. She came to a stop at the center of the grounds, before the great sword scar Namgung Cheon had left behind — then slowly lifted her head and swept her gaze across the warriors.

"Raise your heads."

A cool voice that cut into every corner of the training grounds. The warriors flinched at its chill and lifted their faces.

Jegal Hwa's eyes were cold.

"What is it you saw, that you hang your heads now?"

She pointed a finger at the sword scar carved into the ground.

"Are you cowed by overwhelming martial might? Or are you ashamed to have your smallness laid bare?"

The warriors clenched their teeth at the strike straight to the heart. Faces muddled with shame and self-loathing alike. But Jegal Hwa did not stop.

"Foolish."

Power gathered in her voice.

"You were not defeated today……"

Jegal Hwa slowly raised her hand and pointed toward the eastern sky. Toward the place where Namgung Cheon had vanished.

"—you witnessed possibility."

"……."

"You saw where the sword of Namgung can reach — you saw its very end. And because you stand beneath that same sky and grip that same sword, you too can reach that end."

The warriors' eyes wavered. Not despair — hope. Not fear — a target. Jegal Hwa's words were rekindling embers that had been dying out in their chests. She met each warrior's gaze, one by one, as she pressed on.

"Follow that back."

Jegal Hwa declared.

"Do not fear. Do not doubt. Simply walk toward that back."

Her voice rose, gathering strength.

"Do so, and you too…… will one day stand beneath that sky together."

A brief stillness. And then.

"We obey!"

Namgung Hyeon, vice-captain of the Jinshan Sword Squadron, roared the words and dropped to one knee.

"We obey!"

Every warrior followed as one, kneeling in unison and shouting together. Hundreds of voices merged into a single roar that shook the training grounds to its foundations.

Watching the scene, Jegal Hwa allowed a faint smile. Rebuilding broken pride and gathering scattered hearts into one — that was the duty of the lady of the house, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the task was now flawlessly complete.

At length, her smiling gaze drifted slowly elsewhere. To a corner of the training grounds, where deep shadows pooled. Toward another of her sons standing there.

Her second son, Namgung Jin.

He was biting his lip, fists clenched tight. His face held every emotion at once — bitterness, envy, and an aching emptiness. Then Namgung Jin slowly lowered his hand and felt for the sword at his waist. His fingers clamped hard around the scabbard — then, ever so slowly, peeled away. It was a gesture of pain, like tearing flesh from his own body.

"……Whew."

With one short, deep sigh, he let go of the sword entirely. Then, without a trace of lingering attachment, he turned and left the training grounds.

Watching his receding back, regret clouded Jegal Hwa's expression.

'So now he lets it go.'

He had lived his whole life as a son of the sword clan — to lay down the sword might well feel like a humiliation graver than death. And yet.

'Only with empty hands can you grasp something else, my Jin.'

Whether it be the brush, the ledger, or the wealth to move the world itself. Still, it would hurt. To know he could never best his younger brother with a blade.

'But that pain will make you harder, stronger.'

Jegal Hwa whispered inwardly to her departing son.

'So go — go find the clothes that fit you.'

Only, show them that this is no surrender, no flight.

And then.

'You must show them.'

That to the very end, you are Namgung.