Chapter 139
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 139
Chapter Title: What is a Sword?
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"...Sword?"
"No way, you're picking up a sword here?"
The moment I drew my sword just like them, confusion and rage surged across their faces.
In this Greece, where people typically thought of spears and shields as proper weapons, swords were seen as secondary arms—something mainly used by pirates or mercenaries.
They had steeled themselves and formed a desperate last stand, only for me to draw a sword on top of that. They must have jumped to the conclusion that I was mocking their resolve.
"A... sword?"
But there was one exception.
Jason, their commander who had barely regained his senses, stared at the sword in my hand and hardened his expression.
Judging by his sharp mind and tactical prowess, he must have realized that while my spearwork was calculated to some degree, he'd never seen me wield a sword before.
Yet even on Jason's face, I spotted a hint of relief compared to when I'd held the spear. I couldn't help but sigh.
"Sigh... you idiots."
I'd drawn one of the demonic arts counted among the greatest in Demonic Cult history precisely to pay tribute to their spirit and romanticism.
But this cultural gap strikes again!
"King of Ten Thousand Soldiers. In my homeland, that's what they call a certain weapon."
So, what weapon does it refer to?
As I lightly swung the sword in my hand and posed the question, fifty pairs of eyes rolled around in disbelief, as if wondering what nonsense I was spouting.
"By the way, first one to answer gets a bonus—no, a prize."
"Could it be... a sword?"
"Actaeon, correct."
Come to the office later to claim your prize.
"Anyway, enough chit-chat. Why is it that of all weapons, the sword is called the King of Ten Thousand Soldiers, the supreme among arms?"
In terms of reach, it obviously loses to the spear. And compared to a spear, the shield you can pair it with has to be smaller, leaving it vulnerable to ranged sniping or magic.
A mere secondary weapon worshiped as the king of all arms in another world? Their faces made it clear this flew in the face of their common sense.
"It's because its strengths and weaknesses alike surpass all other weapons."
"What?"
No time for questions.
Time to drill it into these ancient heroes why the sword became the king of arms—and why the orthodox sects made sword arts their main technique.
"Class is in session. Pay attention."
"Huh?"
Jason, standing about ten paces away, let out a scream as a black sword came crashing down on his head in the blink of an eye.
-Clang!
An iron sword crossed paths with the black sword falling like a guillotine, blocking it.
-Screeeeech!
The shrill cry of clashing metals echoed everywhere.
"Gahhhh!"
Jason gripped his hilt and blade with all his might, summoning every ounce of strength from his nursing days to hold back the black sword that seemed ready to cleave him in two.
Unfortunately for him, this was just a casual swing—nothing resembling a proper technique.
I had one hand tucked behind my back, pressing down gently with just the other.
'Good grief, even this has rubbed off on me?'
The pose was identical to that of the Old Herd Sword Demon who had taught me in the Sword Grove at the lower reaches of the Three-Way River.
"First: the sword is dangerous."
"W-What...?"
An obvious fact, if there ever was one.
Unlike spears with superior reach or bows that snipe from afar, the sword forces you into close quarters.
And in the time it takes to exhale or blink, your life hangs in the balance. That's the sword.
-Kang!
"Urk?!"
I flicked my sword aside and shoved, sending Jason—who lost his balance in an instant—skidding back.
If I'd thrust home or shattered his blade and slashed, Jason wouldn't have had time to leave a last will before becoming a guest who never returns.
Realizing this, Jason's face drained white with terror at death's door.
"How's that? All sorts of thoughts racing through your head?"
The sword is dangerous.
But that's precisely why it forces self-reflection and self-criticism. It's also a teacher that relentlessly urges you to train and grow stronger.
"If you'd done this, you'd be dead. If that, you'd live. Only the sword instills that philosophy, whipping you into shape."
The Old Herd Sword Demon had said it.
With a single blade, life and death dance. Amid the myriad thoughts blooming atop that edge, only those who choose correctly are granted the next realm.
Is there a more beautiful, philosophical martial art than the sword?
Of course, in the Central Plains, spears were classified as military weapons, so even non-soldiers or officials training spearmen or practicing spears violated the law—which is why swords became popular in the martial world, or so the theory goes.
But if you'd brought that up in front of the swordsman who charged the Murim Alliance at its peak, slaughtered half, and strolled out unscathed...
I wouldn't be the Heavenly Demon—I'd be a headless corpse.
"I-Indeed..."
Calming down bit by bit, Jason nodded with a pallid face.
Before I knew it, I'd pushed Jason back and penetrated deep into the ranks of fifty.
Jason was more strategist than warrior, but his skills were still top-tier for the Golden Generation. Seeing me casually repel him with one hand left everyone dumbfounded.
"Wha...? G-Gong—!"
"Huh? Huh?!"
"Athena! Look upon us mercifully!"
"Zeus forever!!"
"Father Ares! Grant me strength!"
The fools who'd been staring blankly at me and Jason finally snapped to and charged.
"Next, second: the sword is free."
Long spears offer range but restrict movement due to their length.
Sure, monsters existed who chained those limited motions into a storm.
But ordinary spear users in group fights needed prior defense setup; otherwise, that vaunted length became a liability, letting foes disrupt your flow, block your moves, and leave you exposed.
"The sword, however, is different."
Block, parry, slash, thrust, block again.
Step into footwork, twist away—your sword carries offense and defense in rotation.
Kick off the air to seize the rear. Lean back to dodge, mix in punches and kicks to shatter formations. A spirited sword dance unfolded.
-Chaaaang!
With the final metallic wail, the suicide squad of fifty collapsed.
"Urghhh... What the hell is this!?"
"Kyaa! My wrist's done for! I was backing off, wasn't I?"
"Ahahaha... Ow!? W-When...?"
Their faces showed confusion over whether they'd been hit or just blocked.
The encirclement that had closed to within three paces crumbled instantly. Thanks to my precise control, they clutched their arms, dropped swords, and retreated.
But fresh voices filled the gaps, charging noisily.
"Ho?"
Right above my head.
"Haha! We're here too!"
"Die, you monster bastard!"
Winged twins plummeted like missiles, dual swords in hand.
Even in this forest of heroes teeming with lunatics, the sons of the wind stood out as unique.
"Oho, that's pretty novel."
I'd seen assassins spread silk threads in the air for levitation tricks or use cloud-stepping to glide by kicking off nothing.
But guys maneuvering freely midair like that? Always impressive.
"Finally, third: the sword is fast."
-Slash!
I kicked off the ground and soared straight at the falling dual-wielders.
"Eek?"
"Hey, what do we do!?"
"What do you mean? Just charge!"
They hadn't expected a frontal assault from me.
The twins panicked, but by the time they decided to bull through, my black sword had already ignited.
-Thud thud thud!
Under the blue sky watched by the gods, crisp drumbeats resounded.
I shot past the twins into the heavens. The flapping warriors slammed into the ground.
-Boom!
"Flat of the blade, so they won't die."
Head, nape, back, chest, arms, legs, hands, wrists, butt, thighs, insteps, ankles.
Twelve sword strikes in total.
In that crossing instant, my black sword's flat had thoroughly tenderized the storm twins.
"Kyaaaa... G-Gonna die..."
"M-Mother? Why're you here...?"
"You idiot. Mother's on her home island?"
With the twins' heads-first crash, the fifty-man suicide squad finally knelt before me.
"Hey, come on. Kneeling makes it sound like we surrendered outright!"
"Huh? You didn't surrender?"
Shall we continue?
I flashed a leisurely smile and raised my sword again.
"...We lost. We lost."
Jason shook his head like he'd seen a Texas Chainsaw Massacre villain and flopped onto the dirt.
His face, wiped with his hem, was still a mess of dried blood, sweat, spit, and tears. Facing me and my sword had swollen both arms.
But after venting his guts, his eyes looked much clearer.
"Wow... Heracles was one thing, but you too? Total madmen. And you honed those skills with a sword? Makes no sense!"
Exhausted, Jason sprawled starfish-style on the ground.
Seeing his utter disillusionment, I chuckled softly and approached, looking down at his face.
"Want to know?"
"...What?"
"I'll teach you."
Jason's eyes bulged, as if questioning if he'd heard right.
Dozens of arrow-like glares flew at me simultaneously, but my smile only deepened.
Tailwinds all the way—the exact talents I wanted, in the perfect scenario.
Those unseen triplet sisters must be taking good care of the youngest.