The Legend Emerges
◈ Restriction: Unknown
◈ Effect: Unknown
◈ Description: An ego sword possessing a noble sense of self.
A name marked with a question mark. Restrictions and effects unknown...?
After this long, long wait. I might have sighed in disappointment at such an ego gear being forged.
If the grade hadn't appeared, that is.
Legend...?
As far as was known, the highest item grade in Arcana was epic. True to its status as the pinnacle, epic items were never common. Only spoils from demon kings qualified as epic grade.
'Le, Legeeeend?!'
But legend? As if to confirm it wasn't a hallucination, a message floated before my eyes.
Just by holding the item in my hand, I'd achieved an accomplishment.
Now it finally felt real.
'Gwichul, you really...!'
Playing hard to get with that legendary act, and now you've become a true legend.
Come to think of it, recalling Gwichul's journey, I almost nodded involuntarily.
From the materials, it was always destined to become an ego gear, wasn't it? And the forging was handled by the dwarves' greatest blacksmith, Walls Whale. The luxurious tempering was finalized with the magic tool coveted by the Sword Saint himself, the Galactic Stream Whetstone.
No wonder it had to be something extraordinary.
But hold on.
This message wasn't something to view with pure satisfaction, was it?
'...Affinity?'
The accomplishment's effect seemed far from ordinary. From the nuance...
Did that mean legend-grade items were picky about their wielders?
'So low affinity means you can't even use it?'
But there was no need for concern. For any other legend-grade item, maybe, but not for Gwichul.
Affinity has already reached its maximum.
Exactly. I hadn't chosen Gwichul.
Gwichul had chosen me.
As if proving my confidence, Gwichul's voice echoed in my mind.
-I have awaited only this moment. My liege.
Indeed, the feel of it in my hand was different from the start.
'Gwichul's voice resonates directly in my head.'
The vibration, pulse, resonance emanating from my right hand gripping Gwichul... It truly felt alive.
I could understand why Segewin spoke to his sword.
'...My previous sword wasn't lacking.'
Unnamed Blacksmith's Legacy - Longsword. A level 280 restricted piece, but still unique grade. With its Bleeding effect, even unleashing sword aura let me handle level 500 monsters without issue.
'This is on another level.'
If I could wield it properly, I felt certain I could cleave anything.
As expected of the Sword Saint—he knew a good sword when he saw one.
"...!"
Segewin's eyes wavered.
I knew through Grandfell's aesthetic sense that his Atlas was an impressive blade. But whether by performance or aesthetics, now our Gwichul seemed several cuts above.
"...Haha."
A hollow laugh escaped him.
"My suspicions were right. You're no ordinary mage. A monster versed not just in magic, but swordsmanship worthy of that blade's approval."
Segewin chuckled hoarsely.
"That's how you racked up those absurd accomplishments and entered the Spacetime Salon by unanimous vote. What a frog in a well I was, Segewin. Unique Grand Sword Master? Sword Saint? What nonsense."
...No, sorry to interrupt your pitiful lament, but who are you calling a monster right now?
Segewin, you're thoroughly misunderstanding.
Unanimous vote for Spacetime entry? Thanks, but that accomplishment wasn't my solo effort!
Slaying the upper demon king Gamigin? Pure luck—heaven's fortune.
The 'Gates of Hell' opened in the Demon King Struggle, summoning Akkshan seniors from that hell, and succeeding only with their aid.
However.
'At least pretend to be embarrassed.'
Grandfell's neck remained ramrod straight, as always. At least his mouth was shut... good.
Why not glance at the spectator stands?
'So many eyes watching.'
Spouting nonsense before the crowd? Unthinkable horror just imagining it...
But I overlooked it.
My third familiar, after High El and Diend.
-What drivel is this, you whelp?
...What the—sudden turbo boost?!
'More importantly.'
Did you just call Segewin a whelp, Gwichul?
He's old, sure, but even Grandfell doesn't use such provocative words!
If Segewin hadn't understood, it would've been fine. But just as a sword aura user recognizes another, and Segewin heard Atlas's voice, he could hear Gwichul too.
"...Calling me a whelp?"
Killing intent surged.
But Gwichul pressed on undaunted.
-Whelp, can't you hear your sword's scream?
"...!"
-Pitiful, pitying yourself without hearing that horrific cry. All those years wielding it, for naught. You've walked the wrong path, whelp.
Sword to sword.
With my pride.
I shall shatter Segewin's pride.
My own vow rendered pointless—he'd already said everything I planned to.
Truly, who did he take after to speak so sharply? Though I always handle the aftermath.
"Silence."
Crunch! Teeth grinding, Segewin charged.
As emphasized repeatedly, the natural enemy relationship isn't easily overcome. Even the Seven Deadly Sins incarnation of Gluttony, born as an archfiend.
Without experience, it's an insurmountable bond.
Tatataht!
Yet in this moment, no fear gripped Segewin's movements.
His sword path, forged by contracting a demon and abandoning humanity. Rage at Gwichul insulting that path had swallowed even his terror of a natural enemy.
But remember this, Segewin.
I followed the scent.
Raised my sword toward its source.
"All of it was your choice."
They were doomed anyway? No, you could've saved them.
You merely weighed the scales and chose the worst path.
As I pondered, Gwichul spoke.
-A request, my liege.
Clang! Gwichul clashed with Atlas.
Gwichul's tone deepened.
-Entrust this duel to me?
No truer words. Even now, I'd completely lost track of Segewin's movements.
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
"So fast...!!"
"The Sword Saint in his prime. Can't even imagine his power!"
"And Ho-yeol blocked that strike perfectly!!"
Indeed, the watching players' eyes were sharp.
Segewin's body, stronger in explosiveness than his prime. Blocking that blinding speed by scent alone? Impossible for me.
'Thanks for saving my skin, Gwichul.'
Yes. All thanks to the ego sword, Gwichul.
Not me raising the sword—Gwichul guided my arm.
So, music to my ears.
But.
"What purpose?"
I might yield, but Grandfell wouldn't easily permit it.
Thanks to his procedure, I could gauge Gwichul's intent.
-I wish to save the whelp's sword.
As expected of Grandfell's familiar. Just as he saves humanity and the Arcana Continent, you want to save a fellow sword.
Grandfell couldn't oppose such a noble aim.
"Permission granted."
A pulse emanated from Gwichul.
-I offer thanks for your generous mercy, liege.
I surveyed the Colosseum.
"Not a bad debut stage."
Then I unleashed sword aura.
Silver aura flowed along Gwichul's blade. Soon, Gwichul, cloaked in it, led me.
"Rampage as you will."
We accelerated.
'...But wait.'
I said rampage all you want, but.
'Too fast—way too fast?!'
I couldn't even tell how I was swinging.
This speed was beyond recognition!
As I feared.
Gwichul, you're outpacing even Vivace...
Swift Sword.
Segewin's swordsmanship emphasized speed. Its foundation was the body, after all—swinging and sheathing the blade relied on flesh.
That was why he craved youth.
-"This is a contract. One to seize youth."
The demon had said.
Segewin gazed at his withered body.
His sword path still had far to go to reach its end, yet his lifespan dwindled.
-"Silence before I sever that wicked tongue."
Drawing Atlas from its sheath was sluggish, no longer worthy of swift sword.
Thus, he wavered.
-"You know it too, don't you? This castle has no food to spare the wretched humans. They'll starve or have their dignity ravaged by demons. You're merely showing mercy, Sir Segewin!"
Segewin clenched his fist.
The silver-haired man's words rang true. He'd merely made humanity's worst judgment.
But having chosen, he resolved no regrets. He'd do anything to reach his sword path's end.
Self-sworn.
'Yet now, you abandon me, Atlas.'
Segewin eyed the man's sword.
Blade darkening to black.
Silver sword aura.
The opponent's aura gleamed too brilliantly. Segewin could guess why.
He was the Sword Saint, after all.
On the precipice of life and death, sword auras take unique hues.
Seeing it, he knew the countless brushes with death the man had endured.
Why such a monstrous figure faced so many crises.
Yes—he'd leaped into them.
That transcendent, sublime aura proved it.
Segewin thought inwardly.
'I acknowledge you. You had the right to speak to me.'
But turning back at your words?
I've come too far.
A path of no return.
Segewin kicked off the ground.
'So I entrust it all to you.'
My fate.
The title of Sword Saint.
And you, Atlas.
But I won't yield easily.
"Take it if you can."
This was the petty pride of an ugly swordsman.
Segewin wrung his muscles till his nerves screamed.
Unable to unleash aura now, only his superior physique remained.
Yet the man reacted to the blinding speed.
Clang! Tssring! Clang!
Not just matching—he synced rhythms while pursuing.
The more Segewin watched, the more absurd the man seemed.
His attire unchanged from the Spacetime Salon social hall. Such movements in formal, uncomfortable garb?
But most shocking was the man's sword.
Clang!
Intense.
Forcing Atlas back in direct clash.
'What in the world is it made of?'
As Segewin pondered, a voice pierced his mind.
-Whelp, dare not measure this body.
"...!"
He flinched.
A mere sword, piercing my mind?
Segewin widened the gap. The voice continued.
-Still deaf to it?
What—
-Your sword's wail of anguish.
"!"
-I didn't read your heart.
"...Then."
-I merely spoke with your sword.
"...!!"
Segewin stared at Atlas.
Still no voice from it.
But the man's sword relayed.
-Blind to your own sword's furious cries of resentment. Man-sword unity for naught, whelp.
...Atlas, furious and resentful?
"!"
Segewin finally realized.
Yes, the sword path.
A path walked with the sword.
Yet he'd been arrogant.
A path impossible without it, yet treating Atlas as mere tool.
"...."
Segewin finally raised his head.
The wrong path. No turning back, even in regret.
He recalled the man's words.
-"Vain pride upheld by forsaking humanity. How does it feel rejected by your sword, Segewin? But I too shall deny it. With my sword."
'You needed no sword.'
Now he understood.
Why the man's aura shone so sublimely.
Segewin spoke.
"This foolish one comprehends your intent."
Yes. All of it, the man's mercy.
Salvation for the Sword Saint—no, the ruined old man.
"I shall respond with all my might."
Then the man's sword declared.
-Come!
Today I sever the swift sword, and my liege fells the Sword Saint!
And the match was decided.
Schwick—