Until We Meet Again

Raon drove a true step into the earth. Power surged up from his ankle, threading through his waist and into his wrist. The flames wreathing his blade twisted into a spiral and lunged straight for Milland's chest.

"Now this is starting to get interesting."

Milland bared his teeth and whipped his wrist around. A savage wave, rough as a northern gale, split the ground in two.

BOOOOM!

Sword strikes packed with tremendous force collided, and a roar like a collapsing mountain shook the air.

"Your raw power is already at the Master level."

Milland's aura pressure intensified. It didn't feel like he was raising his sword to defend — it felt like an attack that had simply been intercepted, and the crushing force only grew heavier.

"It won't be power alone."

Raon smiled as he weathered Milland's steadily escalating blows, pushing his enhanced strength and agility to their absolute limits to hold the line against the commander's pressure.

CLANG!

He deflected a crushing strike aimed at his throat and stepped in.

Milland's swordsmanship was a battle sword — a style forged over a lifetime of fighting monsters, built on the battlefield itself. It carried the power to split the heavens, but the movements were large. That was the opening he had to exploit.

"Tricks won't save you."

Milland condensed even more aura along his blade, as if he meant to shear through the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames itself. Dense sword-threads rose from the silver edge.

That's...

A chill ran down Raon's spine at the gathering pressure. It wasn't Ganggi — the exclusive domain of Masters — but the power compressed within that blade was scarcely inferior. If that strike landed, even steel wouldn't survive.

"Try not to die."

Milland crushed the earth underfoot as he advanced. He wasn't fast, but he seized the space around him like a stampeding herd of bison, leaving Raon precious little room to evade.

What now?

You didn't meet aura like that head-on. The right move was to fall back and wait for an opening — but Raon didn't retreat.

If I dodge, standing here was pointless.

A chance to clash properly with Milland and his heavy battle sword didn't come often. He couldn't let this opportunity slip away.

Rrrrrumble—

The instant that aura-laden blade came crashing down toward his skull, Raon resonated all four of his Rings of Fire. In a world slowed to a crawl, he read the flow of Milland's power.

"Hup!"

He thrust at the faint opening at Milland's waist. The blade, steeped in the formula of the Mad Fang Sword, bared its fangs with savage hunger.

"Not a chance."

Even in that split second, Milland didn't flinch. He erased the gap at his waist in an instant and bore down with perfect form.

As expected.

The moment a swordsman reached the Master realm, their cognition, reflexes, and physical ability all rose exponentially. A man who had been a Master for years was never going to be caught off guard by an attack like that.

Which is why...

A chilling light flashed through Raon's eyes.

I threw the bait first.

The instant his sword was about to meet Milland's overwhelming aura, Raon twisted the energy along his blade.

SCREEEEECH!

A sound like warping metal tore through the air, and the trajectory of Milland's strike bent aside. It was Revolving Bind, one of the forms of the Mad Fang Sword. Originally a technique that drove rotating aura into an enemy's body, it had just become a perfect defensive form.

Raon didn't waste the opening as Milland's sword bounced away. He thrust. The blade, its rotational force not yet spent, shot straight for Milland's chest.

"Not bad!"

Milland grinned and concentrated aura into his left hand. A disk of compressed blue energy knocked the blade aside.

Improvisation like that in a fraction of a second — he really was a warrior who had spent his entire life on the battlefield.

Rrrrumble!

Milland's wrist traced a half-circle, and his sword surged upward as if to pierce the sky. The descending blade carried the full weight of the battlefield with it. The pressure was so immense it felt as though Raon's skin would split apart.

"We're just getting started!"

Raon wore a similar smile as he stepped into the falling blade.

If I back off, I'll only get crushed.

The battle sword was a style that pressed harder the more you fled or gave ground. You didn't have to meet it with raw force — but you could never retreat.

The blade, laden with tremendous power, was vibrating so violently that even in a state of total focus, reading its flow was no easy task.

What he needed now was prediction. Drawing on every movement of Milland's he had watched from behind until now, he swept his sword in a diagonal arc.

KRAKOOM!

He intercepted Milland's strike an instant before it reached its peak output. Experience had paid off — the angle was close enough.

He slipped past a blow that could have shattered bone and drove his left elbow into Milland's solar plexus.

"You're good at ambushes, too. You're the one who belongs on a battlefield."

Milland blocked the elbow as if he'd known it was coming, catching it with the back of his left hand. A difficult opponent, as always. And that was exactly why Raon found himself smiling.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"I am getting warmed up."

A faint smile touched Raon's lips. In answer, the flames dancing along his blade scattered like a spray of flower petals.

Each one packed the force of an aura blade. Even Milland couldn't deal with them lightly, detonating his own aura in midair to intercept them.

BOOOOM!

The training ground floor heaved, and a sandstorm of mixed flame and aura erupted. As if they had agreed on it beforehand, Raon and Milland plunged straight into the storm and poured out their sword strikes.

Rrrrrumble—

In the surging gray dust, crimson light and blue light collided without end.

Terian swallowed dryly.

"...He's insane."

He had known Raon possessed strength far beyond his realm, but he had never imagined the boy could stand against his father like this.

In terms of raw power, we should be about the same.

Expert High-Class, bordering on the peak of Expert. That was clearly where Raon stood — and yet the strength he was displaying existed on an entirely different plane from Terian's own. Honestly, in sheer physical ability, Raon even seemed to have the edge on his father.

"How is that even possible?"

Even carrying Zieghart blood, this was strength that defied common sense. He couldn't even bring himself to feel envious.

"He grows fast, sure — but the quality of that growth is on another level entirely."

Beto's mouth hung open at a fight so far above his own grade.

"When he first got here he was below me. How does someone get that strong? It's absurd."

He shook his head as if he were looking at something that shouldn't exist. Even to a mercenary commander who had seen countless powerhouses and geniuses, Raon seemed like a mystery unto himself.

"It's because he never retreats."

A low voice came from behind them. It was Edquil, who at some point had been watching nothing but Raon's back.

"Never retreats?"

"That man never gives ground. Not before monsters, not before the strong, not even before the flow of nature itself. Even on the brink of death, he puts his foot forward."

Edquil bit his lip as he watched Raon trade blows with Milland. He clenched his fist as if a current of awe were running through him.

"That unshakable will to swing his sword no matter the situation — that's what's making him even stronger."

"That's... true."

Terian nodded slowly. It was. Until now, Raon had never once retreated, no matter the circumstances.

That a boy just turning seventeen could carry himself with that kind of composure was, in its own way, even more astonishing than the power itself.

"Choosing to stand behind that boy may have been the best decision we ever made."

The words were quiet, but they carried weight, and the officers nearby nodded in silence.

KRAKOOM!

A roar like the sky splitting apart rang out, and the sandstorm burst apart.

Raon was driven roughly backward, but Milland had barely given an inch. He stood exactly where he had been.

Raon clicked his tongue. In physical ability and in aura, he wasn't far behind — but he couldn't match Milland's stamina or that immovable solidity.

"You find it strange, do you?"

Milland twirled his sword and smiled faintly.

"I've felt it before, but you truly never seem to tire."

Even after using Ganggi and aura blades in succession on the battlefield, Milland had never shown a hint of fatigue. It seemed less a matter of how much aura he had than a difference in realm itself.

"This is the difference."

Milland pointed to a spot just above his abdomen.

"The Middle Dantian. When you reach the Master realm, the middle center opens, and you can wield greater, denser power with far less aura."

"The Middle Dantian..."

"You can already display power beyond Expert, but you haven't reached Master yet. In a war of attrition, you cannot beat me."

Raon had known the concept of the Middle Dantian, but this was the first time he had witnessed its actual utility. A smile formed on his face before he realized it.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Because I can see the path ahead."

Seeing what the Middle Dantian could do only made him want to reach Master even more. With the stats he possessed, he was confident he could make that power explode even more violently than most.

"Interesting."

A plain, unadorned light filled Milland's eyes. The aura on his sword, however, carried a ferocity that had nothing in common with that gaze.

"Show me your full strength."

Raon nodded and raised his sword. He resonated the Rings of Fire until they threatened to shatter, and spread Glacia through his body.

Rrrrrumble—

He drew up every last scrap of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames remaining in his dantian.

Blood-red flame coiled around his sword and his body, tracing a form that was almost mystical. Fangs shaped from the blade, horns running down his back — it looked for all the world like a dragon's head. The waves of tremendous aura warped the very air of the training ground.

"What's the name of that sword art?"

Milland asked, lifting a blade already sheathed in light.

"Flame Dragon Form."

Raon set his sword over his shoulder and stretched his left hand forward. It looked as though a dragon had closed its jaws, fixing its prey in its sights.

"Interesting. This sword's name is Snow Dragon Slash. The blade said to have slain the Ice Dragon that lived on the peak of Sterin Mountain a thousand years ago."

A killing edge so sharp it was almost nauseating gathered on Milland's sword. Aura condensed along the blade until the air itself seemed to distort.

"Come. Let's see which wins — your dragon, or my sword."

The instant Milland beckoned, Raon drew his rear leg back. He detonated the aura he had compressed to its limit and kicked off the ground.

A red flash ignited in Raon's eyes. He detonated every scrap of aura he had gathered at the sword's tip in a single instant. Like a crimson dragon exhaling a breath of flame, the blade surged forward wreathed in fire.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

Blue light and red light flared and died. A storm of aura roared all the way to the sky. Then, with a sound like shattering metal, the storm subsided, and the training ground came back into view.

On a floor reduced to rubble as if it had taken a magical bombardment, Raon and Milland stood facing each other.

Milland's sword still held aura so perfectly materialized it was dazzling to look at. Raon's sword had snapped in half, the broken blade buried in the dirt.

"I lost."

Raon carefully picked up the broken blade.

"Thank you for the lesson."

He bowed his head, his expression calm.

"YEAAAAAHHH!"

"The Commander won!"

"Of course he did! What's with all the cheering?"

"Commander!"

"Lord Raon! You did amazing!"

"You almost matched him!"

"Raon! Raon! Raon!"

The soldiers cheered the victor and comforted the defeated.

Except the victor, Milland, was frowning — and the defeated, Raon, was smiling.

It looked for all the world as though the win and the loss had been reversed.

"Well, I'll be damned."

Milland scattered the lightning-bright aura from his blade and let out a dry laugh.

"I didn't expect you to force me to use Ganggi."

The moment one reached Master, they gained a superhuman body, judgment, and aura. He had believed he could teach the boy a lesson without resorting to Ganggi. He had been wrong. If he hadn't used it, that last sword art would have swallowed him.

"What are you chasing, that you grow this fast?"

"I have a few things I need to do."

Raon looked at the broken sword and smiled faintly. Coming here had let him grow at a speed that should have been impossible. And the foundation of that growth was all thanks to that bastard.

Derus Robert.

I still haven't forgotten.

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠won't stop until I cut your throat.

In the depths of those red eyes that no one else could see, a heat of rage began to rise.

The Robert Clan Lord's Palace possessed a splendor of an entirely different quality from the Lord's Manor of Zieghart.

Derus Robert sat in an office whose soaring ceiling was best described as magnificent, listening to his head butler's report.

"...There are a few other matters of note, but that concludes the full report."

"Matters of note?"

Derus tilted his head slightly, his eyes still gentle.

"Nothing of real importance. Young swordsmen have been distinguishing themselves here and there across the North. We believe they are Zieghart swordsmen who have come out for training."

"Exposing them to real combat to raise their skill, I take it."

"The results have been unmistakable. Starting with the young Sword Fiend named Raon who saved Habun Castle..."

"Raon?"

The moment the name Raon left the butler's mouth, Derus's gaze changed. The atmosphere, which had been as mild as a spring breeze, sank as cold as a walk into an ice cave.

"I-it's not that Raon. Golden hair, red eyes. A child confirmed to carry Glenn Zieghart's blood."

"Ah. Of course."

Derus gave a short laugh and looked at the back of his hand. A single drop of blood welled from the sword scar that still had not faded, and fell.

"This wound that won't disappear is starting to irritate me."

He wiped the blood from the scar, his brow furrowing.

"Habun Castle — so that young swordsman who stopped Eden's attack would be this Raon."

A thick irritation had crept into Derus's voice, as if his mood had soured.

"I mentioned it only in passing. I'm surprised you remembered."

The butler nodded.

"That's the child, yes. But rumors tend to be exaggerated. You needn't concern yourself."

"Rumors are exaggerated — but sometimes they're understated, too."

"Sir?"

"If the plan proceeds, we will clash with Zieghart eventually. Updating our intelligence on the entire house — not just that child — wouldn't hurt."

Derus stroked his clean-cut jaw. He tapped the desk with eyes that held not a shred of emotion — the same eyes he had worn when he cut Raon's throat.

Raon slung the pack that had been standing beside the bed over his shoulder.

He started ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to leave the quarters, then stopped and turned back, letting his eyes travel slowly around the room. It was a small space he had lived in for barely a year and a month, and yet leaving it felt as hard as if he had spent years there.

"Don't drown in cheap nostalgia. Get out of here already."

The Demon King really can't read a room.

He committed the small, comfortable quarters to memory, then stepped outside.

"I'll take that."

Dorian, waiting at the entrance, waved a hand. Insisting he would carry it, he stuffed the pack straight into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his Belly Pouch.

"I'm ready too."

From behind Dorian, Yua appeared in a white fur coat. With the hood pulled up, she looked exactly like a little white rabbit.

"Did you pack everything?"

"Yes. Lord Dorian took it all."

Yua pointed at Dorian and giggled.

She's brighter now.

In the end, Yua had decided to leave, and the Frost Branch Manager had decided to stay. Perhaps because she had steeled herself in advance, she showed no sadness.

"Let's go."

Raon patted Yua's shoulder and left the quarters. Swordsmen, knights, and soldiers stood in ranks on both sides, forming a path all the way to the castle gate.

"Go carefully!"

"Don't forget us!"

"We'll never forget you!"

"If you ever need help, just say the word!"

With every step, comrades who had fought with their backs against his offered their farewells. Raon treasured every word as he walked toward the gate.

The castle gates, which had been sealed shut the first time he had seen them, now stood wide open. In front of them, Milland, Terian, and the rest of the officers stood in a line.

Terian and Kabul were smiling. Radin and the other scout captains wore bitter expressions. Milland and Edquil watched him with calm, steady eyes.

"We'll be going."

"Go carefully."

That was all Raon and Milland needed to say. The conversation their swords had shared a few months ago still remained in both their hearts.

He offered his farewells to the officers in turn, and last of all came Edquil.

"That desire to follow me — not merely stand behind me — is it still the same?"

"Of course."

Edquil nodded without a hint of hesitation.

"Then grow stronger."

Raon went on, looking into Edquil's unwavering eyes.

"I have a great deal to do. If you want to walk beside me, become stronger than anyone else in this castle. In both sword and spirit."

"Understood."

Edquil released an aura pressure of an entirely different caliber than before. The way he answered without question or doubt was reassuring.

"Always remember. We — Habun Castle — stand at your back."

"Yes."

Hearing Milland's words, plain but heavy with strength, Raon met every gaze in turn.

"Thank you. For everything."

Raon smiled as he looked at the people who were Habun Castle itself.

"Until we meet again — stay well."

With that, he turned. He took Yua's shoulder as she teared up at the sight of the Frost Branch Manager, and, as if wishing them fortune in war, they walked out through the wide-open gates.

"Take care!"

"Lord Raon! Fortune in battle!"

"Go well, Raon! We're the ones who should be thanking you!"

"Yua, be careful!"

The cheers of the people rose with the sound of the gates closing.

"Grandpa, take care!"

"See you later!"

Unlike Yua and Dorian, who turned to say goodbye, Raon did not look back. He walked forward, looking toward the day they would meet again.

By the time the soldiers' voices had faded, the endless hills they had struggled over on the way to Habun Castle came into view.

"Yua. From here I'll carry you—"

"No need!"

Just as Raon was about to pick Yua up, Dorian stepped forward with a nasal little hum. He plunged his hand deep into his Belly Pouch and pulled out a wooden sled — large enough for three people to ride with room to spare.

"Wh-what is THAT? Why would something like that even be in a pouch?!"

Wrath, who had been keeping quiet out of sheer laziness, spat the words out in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠disbelief.

"A sled?"

"Why do you have that?"

Raon and Yua both stared at the sled with their mouths open.

"Huh? If you're traveling through a place like this, a sled is essential."

Dorian tilted his head as if he couldn't understand why anyone would ask.

"It's a high-grade sled, so you can even control the speed. Hop on."

Raon had wondered why a coward like Dorian would carry a sled around — but apparently it even had speed control.

"Woooow!"

Yua threw her hands up and bounced in place, delighted.

At this point, am I the weird one for being surprised?

Raon shrugged, took Yua along, and sat down on the sled.

"Then we're off."

He nodded at Dorian's cheerful voice.

It was time to leave.