Strip the Rank Insignia

"It'll start soon. Warm yourselves up."

Just as Raon ordered the swordsmen to loosen their bodies, a tall, slender swordsman approached from the far side of the sparring ground.

Garon Zieghart.

His features resembled Rayden's, the one Raon had previously stomped into the dirt, but the presence rolling off him was an entirely different beast. A vast, crushing aura unique to those who had broken through the wall coiled around his entire frame.

"You're Raon?"

Garon closed in until Raon could hear him breathe, a cold smile on his lips. He poured out a crushing wave of aura, as if to flatten him where he stood, and lifted his chin.

"That's right."

Raon received the pressure without a flicker of expression and nodded.

"Hmph."

Garon's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected the boy to take his presence so easily.

"I heard you turned our vice-commander into a rag with a single punch. You do look like you might have that much skill."

"He wasn't that strong."

"Not that strong? Tekri?"

"Yes."

"A little taste of fame, and your arrogance has already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠overflowed."

"It isn't arrogance. I simply stated a fact."

It wasn't a taunt. It wasn't mockery. It was exactly what Raon thought.

"I made Tekri vice-commander for his swordsmanship, not his fists. With a blade in his hand, he'll be a different man from last time."

"Then how about a small wager?"

"A wager?"

"If I take down your vice-commander in a single strike again, you'll be my opponent."

Raon went on, watching Tekri grind his teeth in the background.

"It'd be boring if it ended in one blow, you see."

"You son of a bitch!"

Tekri, who had been listening with his ears wide open, ground his teeth and stormed forward.

"Last time I didn't have a swor—"

"I'm speaking with your commander, and the vice-commander barges in cursing? I see the Gold Peak Squad's chain of command is a complete mess."

At Raon's sneer, both Garon's and Tekri's faces went rigid.

"M-my apologies."

Caught in Garon's icy glare, Tekri slunk back to his place. His fists were clenched so tight they'd gone red; he was clearly seething.

"Raon Zieghart. A little reputation, and your insolence has gone to your head."

"Has it? For a Gold Peak commander with no reputation of his own, the stimulation might be a bit much."

"You little—"

"Why haven't you answered the wager I just proposed? Don't you trust your own subordinate?"

"Hah. They said you had a vicious tongue. They weren't wrong. Your talent for provocation is no ordinary thing."

Garon drew a long breath and wore a chilling smile.

So he won't take the bait that easily.

Raon let out a short laugh. Even if they were brothers, Garon was nothing like Rayden. He was about to try a different approach when Garon stepped forward.

"Fine. You said it, so I'll play along with that provocation. But if you lose, your suspension from activity becomes five years."

"Is that all?"

Raon looked at Garon and tapped his scabbard.

"If I fail to subdue Tekri in a single strike, I'll never pick up a sword again."

"You bastard. Do you actually want to die?"

The second provocation was more than Garon could swallow. Killing intent boiled off him in a dense, murderous wave, and a low rumble shook the air.

Raon never lost his smile. He let Garon's overwhelming aura flow past him like water down a stream.

"I'm not that mature myself. Shall we finish this right here?"

"That wouldn't be so bad. Come, then."

Their auras sparked against each other, about to surge into the sky, when a thunderous announcement rolled from the entrance of the training ground.

A heavy boom shook the stone.

At the gatekeepers' full-throated cry, everyone in the training ground dropped to one knee.

"We greet the Clan Head!"

Raon bowed his head, but his eyes tracked Glenn as he came through the wide-open entrance.

He's even bigger than before…

The Glenn of today looked larger and more magnificent than the one Raon had felt three months ago. To appear different every time Raon himself grew stronger—it was a martial might whose end truly could not be seen.

Glenn, accompanied by the Leader of the Heavenly Sword Squad, did not spare a glance for anyone. He ascended the jade throne on the dais and looked down upon the Light Wind Squad and the Gold Peak Squad alike.

Tch. This King ought to be the one standing in that place.

Wrath glared at Glenn and smacked his lips.

You belong on my wrist.

This King is the great monarch of the Demon Realm! I cannot live in this wretched bracelet forever!

Just live there. I'll feed you every food on the continent.

Huh? Mm… s-shut up!

The answer came late enough that Wrath had clearly hesitated. Raon almost laughed. As expected, what moved this creature was not wrath. It was gluttony.

"Where is the Light Wind Squad Leader?"

"He is—"

"I'm right here!"

Just as Raon was about to answer, Rimer's voice rang out from behind him. There was a slip of paper in his hand, and even at a glance it was unmistakably a betting ticket.

"Hah. Begin."

Glenn stared at Rimer as if he meant to kill him, then waved a hand. At that low command, the swordsmen rose to their feet.

"The group spar between the Light Wind Squad and the Gold Peak Squad will now begin! Will the first combatants please step onto the sparring ground!"

The announcer had barely finished before a long-armed swordsman from the Gold Peak Squad climbed onto the arena.

"Hm?"

"Who's our number one?"

"We never decided, did we?"

"Squad Leader?"

"Don't look at me."

The swordsmen turned to Rimer, but he only shrugged, as if this particular affair had nothing to do with him.

"Number one is already decided."

Raon stepped forward and pointed to the green-haired swordsman standing at the very end of the line.

"M-me?"

Dorian, who had been nervously rubbing his Belly Pouch in his anxiety, recoiled with a start.

"This whole thing started with you. So the duel should start with you as well."

Raon grinned and clamped a hand on Dorian's shoulder.

"Go out there and unleash three months of rage."

Dorian bit his lip as he looked at the Gold Peak swordsman waiting ahead.

Rage?

Oh, he had rage. Just not at the Gold Peak Squad in front of him. At Raon.

He had been beaten by Raon so thoroughly that he could no longer even remember being hit by Gold Peak. He had forgotten why they were fighting these people in the first place.

He looks strong, though.

He didn't know the opponent's name, but the aura and the impression alone said this was no ordinary swordsman. Dorian couldn't understand why Raon, who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could read another person's martial level like a ghost, had sent him out first.

I can't lose here…

In a group contest like this, the vanguard mattered most. If the first fighter did well, the rest would follow. Dorian had no confidence he could win.

"Combatants, step forward."

At the announcer's call, Dorian heaved sigh after sigh and trudged ahead.

"State your names."

"Dorian."

"Belkil."

"Ugh!"

Dorian's lips rounded into a silent O.

Even the name is scary…

It wasn't just the face that looked fierce. The name did too. He wanted to climb down off this sparring ground immediately.

I don't even know if I've gotten stronger…

He had suffered like he was dying for three months, but if someone asked whether he had actually grown stronger, the answer would be awkward. No matter how much martial arts he drilled, no matter how he studied defense and counterattack, Raon's sword had always slipped through the gaps like a ghost. There had been no room for confidence to take root.

"Begin!"

He still wasn't ready. The duel started anyway.

The moment the announcer stepped down, Belkil charged. His blade twisted down in a curve like a flock of sheep-clouds, a sword art that was dazzling and dizzying all at once.

"Eek… huh?"

Dorian, who had been scrambling backward in terror, snapped his eyes wide.

What… what is this?

The flow of Belkil's colorful variable sword was etched into his vision with startling clarity. Where the blade was aiming, how it was moving—all of it was vivid.

Is he mocking me?

Thinking he was being toyed with, Dorian stamped through his footwork at speed. Belkil's sword fell exactly as he had predicted, without a hair's difference.

"You've got a decent eye."

Belkil sneered and lunged again.

"But this time will be different!"

He shouted as he thrust. In an instant the sword-tip split into three, aiming for Dorian's chest, wrist, and head at once.

I can see this too.

It was a sword art he had never seen before, and yet he read every current and every direction. Just in case, he dodged again. The trajectory matched his prediction once more.

"You little rat!"

Belkil poured more speed and more variation into his sword, but it made no difference. Every movement, every opening, lay bare.

"Hup!"

Dorian stepped through the newly learned Spear Forest Step, slipped Belkil's blade, and smashed his fist into the man's empty waist.

A clean, satisfying crack rang out. Belkil screamed and crumpled to the floor of the training ground.

"Ghhhk…"

Struck in a vital point, Belkil clutched his waist, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠groaned, and passed out.

Yeah. That spot hurts.

He had been hit there by Raon countless times, so he knew exactly what pain each vital point produced and what it did to a body. A proper blow to that place stole a man's breath and dropped him cold.

So then… what just happened?

Why had he won?

Dorian swallowed dryly, staring not at the fallen Belkil but at Raon.

What are you, really.

What did you do to me?

Raon watched Dorian's dazed face and let out a quiet laugh.

Of course he's confused.

He had believed his own skill had stagnated, then dropped a Gold Peak swordsman he thought was far stronger with a single blow. Being stunned was the only reasonable reaction.

The members of the Light Wind Squad had all thought their martial power had stalled. In truth, they had grown steadily through every one of those three months. For people who had endured that hell, the Gold Peak Squad was nothing.

"What in the…"

Garon's eyes flew wide; he clearly had not predicted this result. Belkil, whom he had sent out first, was ranked just below a unit leader, which only made the shock worse.

"Th-the first match. Victory to the Light Wind Squad!"

The announcer, who had been standing there blankly, came to his senses and raised a hand toward the Light Wind side.

"Th-this is rigged, right?"

"He lost that easily?"

"Woooooooo!"

"Light Wind! Light Wind!"

The crowd's reaction split cleanly in two, depending on whom they were cheering for. Those who had bet on Gold Peak clutched their heads. Those who had backed the Light Wind Squad roared until their throats tore.

"It was luck, nothing more. Ogin. You're up!"

Garon forced a composed expression onto his face and sent out the Gold Peak Squad's second unit leader. The look in his eyes said he would win the second match no matter what.

"Burren. Your turn. You can win this for certain. Leave it to the sword in your body."

"Mm. Understood."

Burren nodded with a faintly sour look and climbed onto the platform.

"Ogin Peter."

"Burren Zieghart."

"Begin!"

The two men finished their pre-duel salute and each took a step back. The announcer called the start.

A heavy rush of air rolled out. From the first exchange, Ogin tried to seize the momentum, using his long arms and variable sword to crush Burren's space.

"Hm?"

Burren wore a look that said something was off, and let Ogin's blade slide past by the thickness of a sheet of paper.

"Try blocking this too!"

Ogin spread his aura like flower petals and seized the space around them, but Burren flicked his sword as if shooing a fly and cut off every incoming strike.

"Wh-what…"

"It's a little strange, but I believe it's my turn?"

Burren stamped the ground. He leapt into Ogin's startled space and drove his sword forward. Wind-imbued aura tore apart the trajectories of the variable sword and smashed into Ogin's solar plexus.

A heavy crack. Struck by an unmoderated blade-flat, Ogin went down without even a scream.

"Ah…"

"What is this?"

"Another one-strike? Ogin is a unit leader!"

"Good heavens…"

Once could be coincidence. Twice was not. The spectators' mouths fell open at a Light Wind martial power that had dropped even a unit leader in a single blow.

The moment Burren came down from the training ground, he ran straight to Raon.

"What the hell did you do to us?!"

"About what?"

"Why could I see every last one of that guy's attacks?!"

He said he had seen every variation and every current of Ogin's swordsmanship, his jaw trembling.

"Me too. I could see the opponent's sword completely!"

Dorian's face was still flushed, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"I told you at the start. Follow my systematic training, and I'd make sure you won."

"That training where we did nothing but get beaten actually worked?"

"S-systematic? The system I know is…"

"Uh…"

It wasn't just Burren and Dorian. The other swordsmen were staring at Raon with half-glazed eyes, as if looking at a monster.

"Stop gawking and get ready for the next match."

Raon patted the stunned Light Wind members on the shoulder and pointed at the sparring ground.

"There are still thirty-three wins left. Go rack them up."

Every last one of them.

A bright, drum-like crack rang out, and the Gold Peak Squad's third unit leader went rolling across the floor.

Runaan, still on the sparring ground, looked down at her unconscious opponent with vacant eyes, as if she had just woken from a nap, then turned and walked back toward the Light Wind Squad.

Thirty-three wins, zero losses. An overwhelming victory for the Light Wind Squad.

It was a good thing this was a sparring-format duel. In an ordinary fight, the matter would already have been finished.

"What in the world…"

Garon looked at the scoreboard, his lips trembling. Thirty-three to zero. He had never imagined that the zero would be theirs.

"What is this?! You rigged it! How else could something like this happen?!"

He shrieked and seized the announcer and the referee by the collars.

"You're in cahoots with those bastards, that's what this circus is!"

"N-no, we aren't!"

"We only report the results…"

"Shut up! You can look at this and still say that? Your eyes are knothol— huk!"

Just as Garon poured killing intent at the referee and announcer as if he meant to murder them, an immense wave of aura erupted from the dais.

The one spreading that pressure was, of course, Glenn Zieghart.

Glenn, who had been sitting with his eyes closed as if bored, frowned and looked down at Garon.

"What do you think you are doing."

"H-Head of House— Grandfather! This doesn't make any—"

"This is not a private occasion. Address me properly."

He rejected Garon's familiar address and poured out a colder gaze still.

"And there was no foul play in today's matches. What is lacking is not the announcer's eyes, but your skill."

Glenn glanced at the announcer and waved a hand, as if telling him to continue.

"Y-yes! W-will the next swordsman please step onto the sparring ground."

The announcer pulled himself together and called the next name.

"Commander."

Tekri, the only one left, approached Garon.

"We have to win. If the two of us defeat Raon and Rimer, the Gold Peak Squad can rise again."

"Mm…"

Garon nodded. The other members could be replaced. If he and Tekri won, they could build a new Gold Peak Squad and climb even higher.

It was almost funny. He was pinning his last hope on Tekri—the man he had ignored, mocked, and even threatened all this time.

"Trust me and wait."

Tekri wrapped his hand around a long sword and climbed onto the training ground.

"I didn't think I'd be facing you again."

Raon smiled as he looked at Tekri. He had expected the man to lose his nerve and withdraw. That he had come back to this place said he was a martial artist with a strong mind.

"You arrogant bastard! You made a wager on me? A wager that you'd drop me in a single strike?"

Tekri's eyes gleamed with something almost ghostly.

"I'll admit I went down to you in a pathetic way. But if I'd had a sword, the result would have been different!"

That much was true. Judiel's intelligence had also recorded that Tekri was a swordsman who used a longsword with frightening skill.

"I'll make sure you never pick up a sword again!"

"I wonder. Who's the one who won't be able to pick one up?"

Raon smiled at his ease and drew the Heavenly Sky Sword.

"Begin!"

The announcer raised a hand and stepped away, and Tekri charged at once. He handled the long sword as lightly as a dagger, aiming for Raon's head, neck, and wrist all at the same time.

A high metallic scream rang out.

It was swordsmanship anyone could see was dazzling, and yet it was faithful to the fundamentals—an upper-tier martial art in which power, speed, and variation all wove together.

And yet.

I can see all of it.

To Raon, who had spent three months tearing apart the martial arts the trainees were learning and digesting the Hundred Scents Sword down to the last scrap, Tekri's blade looked as simple as children playing at sword fighting. Speed, flow, breathing, trajectory—all of it felt as if it would settle into his palm.

He understood it with certainty.

It was not only the Light Wind Squad that had grown stronger.

Every day he had beaten them. No—every day he had dug into their weaknesses and pushed them to go further. In that time, his own martial power had grown past recognition.

"Hyaaaaah!"

Tekri stepped in and brought the long sword down. Aura coiled along the lengthy blade like vines, trying to wrap Raon's entire body.

It's full of openings.

It was clearly one of Tekri's trump cards, a form with fierce, dazzling variation and real force. To Raon, who could feel every current and every breath of it, it meant nothing.

A thin, piercing ring of steel.

Raon lifted the Heavenly Sky Sword and drove it into the gap in Tekri's unfolding art.

"Ghk…"

Tekri could not even lift his trembling neck. He passed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out where he lay.

A single strike. Just as he had promised, Raon dropped Tekri with one swing of the sword.

"What is this…"

Garon's eyes bulged as if they might fall out, his lips shaking. He looked emptied, as if he had witnessed something he had never even dreamed of.

"The little wager is over. I win."

"You…"

"Come on up."

Raon's red eyes burned like a heat haze. He looked down at Garon with an arrogance that left nothing to add.

It was time to write a new legend in this place.