The Weight of the Heavy Sword
"Got a problem with that?"
The Heavenly Sword Squad Leader swept a chilly gaze over Raon and the members of the Light Wind Squad.
"N-no, ma'am!"
"Of course not!"
Burren and Marta shouted at the same time, both of them snorting with excitement at the prospect of learning the sword from a Grandmaster.
"Me too!"
Even Runaan, who rarely spoke up, leaned forward and clenched her fist.
"And you?"
Sheryl looked at Raon, who hadn't said a word.
"I'm all for it."
Raon nodded with a faint smile. The Heavenly Sword Squad Leader was a martial artist who had mastered every principle of the sword. Learning from her was nothing short of a fateful opportunity.
"The wager was for Heavy Sword and Hard Sword, but as an apology for underestimating you, I'll explain the other sword principles as well until we reach the Yonan family."
"Thank you."
"Th-thank you!"
Raon and the entire Light Wind Squad bowed their heads to her.
"We'll start with Heavy Sword today."
Sheryl didn't stall and didn't ramble. She launched straight into the lecture.
"The foundation of Heavy Sword is loading the weight of your body and your aura into the blade. Even the basics—a vertical cut, a horizontal cut, a thrust—become far more destructive once you put weight behind them. Harmonize the principles of Hard Sword into that, and the power doubles. The trade-off is that everything concentrates into force and impact, so your speed drops. Keep that in mind whenever you try to blend it with other sword principles…"
In a calm, even voice, she laid out the fundamentals of Heavy Sword and the principles of swordsmanship. The explanations were brief and precise, and remarkably easy to follow.
"What happens if you keep training Heavy Sword?"
Sheryl picked up the small dagger she had set on the ground.
"It would get so heavy the opponent couldn't receive it."
"You'd have enough power to drop anyone in a single blow!"
"That's when you're fighting someone weaker than you. Let's say you've mastered Heavy Sword, and your opponent has mastered Swift Sword to the same degree."
Sheryl shook her head at Dorian and Crain's answers.
"How do you catch a swordsman who moves like a bolt of light with a slow Heavy Sword?"
"Ugh, that sounds pretty hard…"
"You couldn't even land a hit."
"You'd lose the footwork contest too."
"You'd have to hold out and look for one opening."
The swordsmen tilted their heads, agreeing it sounded like a losing matchup.
"Ordinarily, yes. But once you reach a certain realm, that changes. A Heavy Sword user never loses to a Swift Sword user."
A gray aura bloomed from Sheryl's body and coiled around the dagger's edge.
The instant that gray aura settled on the blade, a monstrous pressure came crashing down over the entire clearing.
"Ghk!"
"Hah—!"
"Wh-what is this!"
The Light Wind Squad swordsmen couldn't withstand it. Their knees hit the dirt.
"Kh…"
Raon frowned. It felt as if two enormous pillars were grinding down on his shoulders.
So this is Heavy Sword from a Grandmaster…
She wasn't even using Ganggi, and yet the weight and the grip of it were on a completely different level from Garon's sword. It was heavy enough that even his own body could barely stay standing.
"This is the middle stage of Heavy Sword. You go beyond putting weight into the blade—you press down on the space itself."
Sheryl slowly lifted the sword, and the pressure eased enough for them to get back on their feet.
"Then how do you think you put weight not only into the sword, but into the space around it?"
"Y-you fill the sword with aura…"
"No—you use the aura you've spread into the surroundings…"
The Light Wind Squad offered their guesses one after another, but Sheryl's head never nodded.
"Visualization."
Raon finished thinking it through and spoke, unhurried.
"You paint a visualization of weight into the sword."
"Correct."
Sheryl gave a small nod and lowered the blade again.
A pressure twice as violent as before crushed down on every inch of their bodies.
"Ghhhk!"
"Aaagh!"
Crain and Dorian screamed first. Burren, Marta, and Runaan groaned and went down as well.
"Ngh!"
The only one still on his feet was Raon.
"A moment ago, what I put into the sword was a log. What I put into it now is a boulder. Do you feel the difference?"
"Th-they're both ridiculously fucking heavy…"
Marta ground her teeth as she answered.
"You might feel it that way. But before, it was pressing on one part of you. Now it's crushing your entire body, isn't it?"
"Ah…"
Raon nodded. She was right. The first wave had borne down on his shoulders alone. This one was flattening him from head to heel.
"Simply thinking about putting weight into a sword does not make it Heavy Sword. You concentrate on the forms until you could perform them in your sleep—and you think about what you want that swordsmanship to accomplish."
Sheryl raised the blade once more.
"The more detailed the visualization, the greater the effect. If you intend to go far and climb high, set aside time every day for visualization training."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Understood!"
It was an education you couldn't have bought for any amount of money, and the entire Light Wind Squad roared their answer.
"That's all for today."
She set the dagger down and went into her own tent.
"Wow. Getting hit with it in the body like that, it just… clicks."
"It's hard, but I get what she meant."
"Right? Grandmasters really are on another level."
The Light Wind Squad swordsmen were all smiling, clearly moved by Sheryl's lecture.
Visualization really is the key.
Raon looked at the dagger Sheryl had left behind, his eyes gleaming. Wrath, Glenn, Rimer, Sheryl—every expert he knew placed enormous importance on visualization. The higher you climbed, the more it seemed that the martial power built through visualization decided victory or defeat.
"This King already told you. Pile up enough visualization and that's all you need."
True enough.
Especially considering how Wrath—that sucker of a king—kept repeating the same thing every time, it was probably time to increase his visualization training.
"Hm? This King's nose is itching."
Your nose?
"You just thought something disrespectful about This King, didn't you."
You're imagining things.
Raon smiled, a little awkwardly.
"Half of you should break down the tents. The other half should cook. Divide the numbers yourselves."
Raon woke the Heavenly Sword Squad at dawn and put them straight to work.
"Urgh…"
"I-it wasn't a dream."
"What a mess we're in because of the vice-commander."
"How was I supposed to know that kid was such a monster?!"
Econ and the Heavenly Sword Squad members, realizing that yesterday had been all too real, moved off to their assigned tasks with the faces of the dying.
"Mm…"
Sheryl, apparently not confident in her cooking, joined the tent crew.
"Sh-shouldn't we be helping too?"
"Yeah. First we should…"
"Stop."
Raon halted the Light Wind Squad members who were about to step in.
"While the Heavenly Sword Squad handles the chores, you train."
"Huh?"
"Train?"
"Out here?"
Burren's eyes went round.
"That's right. They sacrificed themselves to make time for you, so use it. You're the weakest ones here."
"Kh!"
"C-can't even argue with that…"
Crain and Dorian scratched their necks, grimacing.
Once Raon had confirmed that the Light Wind Squad was warming up and starting their individual training, he closed his eyes.
Weight, huh…
He turned over the Heavy Sword Sheryl had shown them yesterday. He wanted to make that sword his own—the one that crushed not only the body, but the soul.
For that, I'm going to need a different visualization.
Even in the brief window while meals were being prepared and tents were being struck, Raon climbed the stairs toward greater strength, one step at a time.
"Ha!"
Econ let out a hollow laugh as he watched the Light Wind Squad train.
"He's making them train in the middle of all this? Is that kid really seventeen?"
He had expected mockery, or at least some pointed remarks. Instead, Raon had ordered his swordsmen to train. An unpredictable little monster.
"Squad Leader. They're not wasting the extra time playing around—they're training. I think we really did this for nothing."
"I know."
Sheryl's face tightened as she looked at Raon, who had sunk into meditation.
I really did something pointless.
The plan had been to push Raon even higher. That boy had already surpassed her predictions. In scheming and in mental fortitude, he seemed to outstrip even swordsmen who had weathered every storm.
And having them train was a good call too.
She liked that he hadn't squandered the time created by the Heavenly Sword Squad doing chores—he had turned it into training.
"We're not actually going to be stuck on chores until this mission is over, right?"
"We won't. Those children have sense. They'll ease up at a reasonable point."
Econ and the Heavenly Sword Squad swordsmen nodded at Sheryl's words. It was only natural. However swollen Raon's nerve might be, they assumed he would eventually split the work down the middle.
They were wrong.
"We camp here tonight. Heavenly Sword Squad, I'll ask you to handle scouting, cooking, and putting up the tents."
On the fourth day—one more than the Heavenly Sword Squad had spent harassing the Light Wind Squad—Raon dumped every last chore on them.
"Ah, and gather plenty of firewood. The temperature drops before dawn. We'll need it for training, so pick up a few clubs while you're at it."
Without a shred of hesitation, he worked the Heavenly Sword Squad like household servants.
"Put in plenty of meat today."
"Yeah. Yesterday's tasted good, but there wasn't enough meat."
"The soul of a stew is how much meat you put in."
The Light Wind Squad members who had felt guilty at first were now placing orders without the slightest shame.
"I want mine cold."
"C-cold…"
Econ looked at Runaan and bit down hard on his lip. That child from House Sullion asked for her food served cold every single time, and it was genuinely going to kill him.
"You lot, start training."
"Yes, sir!"
"Got it."
The moment they received Raon's order, the Light Wind Squad spread out and began working on whatever they were weakest at.
"Ugh…"
Econ let out a long, empty breath. The Light Wind Squad wasn't dumping chores on them so they could loaf around—they were training. There was nothing he could even say. It was a dead end with no way out.
"Vice-commander…"
"Do we really have to keep doing this?"
"Give it up. There's nothing we can do now."
Econ shook his head with an apologetic look.
"When we get back, I'm throwing one hell of a—"
"Vice-commander. The horses are running low on feed. Go gather some hay."
Raon pointed at the horses tied to the trees.
"Huh? We brought grass with us."
"That's gotten old. They don't seem to like it much."
"E-even so, it rained yesterday, so finding hay is…"
"If you go deeper into the forest, there should be some that didn't get wet, don't you think?"
He smiled as if to say figure it out, and walked away.
Ah, he's a demon…
Econ's teeth clicked together. They had picked the fight first, that much was true—but he had never imagined they would be worked this hard.
"S-Squad Leader!"
He looked to Sheryl, but she snapped her head away and pretended not to notice.
"Kh! We're screwed."
Econ slammed a hand blackened from tending the fire into the dirt.
"We really picked the wrong damn fight!"
It was the most comfortable journey Raon had ever had, and it brought them to Dembel City, home of the Yonan family.
It was a warm region, so the buildings sat high off the ground to escape the geothermal heat and the vermin.
"From here on, the Squad Leader should take command again."
Raon smiled faintly and stepped back.
"Then that condition is over—"
"Not quite."
He shook his head at Sheryl, who had let a flicker of hope show.
"As promised, you'll be handling the chores until we finish the mission and return."
Night watch, meals, and even lectures. Why on earth would he let suckers like that go? He was going to use them until the very end.
"Damn it!"
"He's a real demon…"
"I'm never going on a mission with the Light Wind Squad again."
Econ and the Heavenly Sword Squad shook their heads hard, wanting nothing more to do with Raon.
"Hah…"
Sheryl let out a thin sigh and headed for the Yonan estate at the heart of Dembel. She had been here before, apparently; she found the way without any trouble.
"Whoa…"
"It's huge!"
"Hard to believe this is a crafting family."
Not that finding it required any effort. The Yonan family held a stretch of land so vast it occupied a full quarter of Dembel City.
Calling it a fortress wouldn't be an exaggeration.
The walls of the Yonan estate rose as high as castle ramparts, and the interior was hidden as if draped in black cloth. The work of artifacts, most likely.
"State your identity and your business."
The gatekeepers at the main entrance gripped their spear shafts, eyes wary.
"We are from Zieghart."
Sheryl stepped forward and presented the token that symbolized House Zieghart.
"Ah!"
"Z-Zieghart!"
The moment they confirmed the token, the gatekeepers bowed hastily and moved aside. The gate was linked to the interior somehow; it opened at once.
A deep metallic groan rolled out as the enormous iron doors parted, revealing what lay beyond. True to a family of artifact craftsmen, workshops of every different shape stood in rows inside.
"Welcome."
A middle-aged man in a formal suit approached through the open gate and bowed.
"I am Arun, chief butler of Yonan."
"Sheryl of the Heavenly Sword Squad."
"The Heavenly Sword Squad Leader's reputation precedes her. It is an honor to meet you."
As befit the chief butler of a distinguished house, Arun showed not a flicker of surprise at Sheryl's name and observed every courtesy.
"Please, follow me. The Matriarch is waiting."
He extended a hand and indicated the way ahead.
"Let's go."
They followed Arun into the ten-story building at the center of the Yonan estate. Magical devices had been installed inside, so they reached the tenth floor without climbing a single stair.
That door…
Raon's eyes narrowed at the single door on the tenth floor. It looked like iron, and like wood, and like a single sheet of paper.
That's an artifact too, then.
Those who were permitted could open it as lightly as paper. Those who were not would find it harder than the hardest steel.
"Please, go in."
Arun gestured forward, and the double doors opened of their own accord.
A soft light spilled out, as if the very air had brightened, and the interior came into view.
The entire room was strewn with countless artifacts whose purposes were impossible to guess, leaving barely a place to set one's feet. On the sofa at the center sat a middle-aged woman with red hair draped over her left shoulder—a beauty whose bold features gave her a striking, open handsomeness.
Michelle Yonan.
That middle-aged woman was the matriarch of the Yonan family, and one of the three greatest artifact craftsmen on the continent.
"I greet the Matriarch."
Sheryl bowed first. Courtesy owed to the head of another house.
"It's been a while, Heavenly Sword Squad Leader."
Michelle Yonan smiled and returned the greeting.
"Please, come sit."
Sheryl picked her way across the artifacts covering the floor without stepping on a single one and sat on the sofa opposite Michelle.
"Thank you for coming."
"It's what we came to do."
As she answered, Sheryl glanced at the token in Michelle's hand. A red sword was drawn on it, and the name Glenn was written there. That, it seemed, was the debt Glenn had left behind.
"Vice-commander Econ, you've been well, I hope?"
"Ah—yes. And you, Matriarch, have grown even more beautiful and youthful."
Econ delivered the shameless flattery with a fluency that did not match those muscles at all.
"Heh. Not at all. And this is…"
Michelle's gaze, as she waved the compliment away, settled on Raon.
"Raon, vice-leader of the Light Wind Squad. I greet the master of Yonan."
Raon bowed with full courtesy.
"Ah! You're the one who defeated the 7th Apostle!"
Michelle's eyes went wide. Word that the 7th Apostle had fallen had apparently reached even here.
"I got lucky."
"But you really are handsome."
"I beg your pardon?"
Raon's mouth fell open in a round O—not at praise for his martial prowess, but for his face.
"I'd heard your strength was remarkable, but I never imagined you would be this handsome. You're unlike any gem I've ever seen."
She turned his face this way and that, letting out small sounds of admiration. It was the look of someone appraising a work of art, not a person.
"Matriarch. We don't have much time. Let's start with the matter at hand."
"Ah, I'm sorry. Occupational hazard."
At Sheryl's words, Michelle tapped her own cheek and apologized.
"I have a daughter named Encia."
Michelle slid Glenn's token to the center of the table and began, slowly.
"She's the youngest, so she grew up loved by everyone—bright, open-hearted, and overflowing with talent for artifact crafting. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call her my finest masterpiece. I had even thought of passing this seat on to her."
She spoke of her successor with complete honesty, even in front of outsiders from Zieghart.
"But starting in the middle of last year, something began to go wrong with her body."
"When you say something went wrong…"
"At first she said a single finger joint hurt. As if she'd been pricked by a red-hot needle. We thought a splinter had gotten into it while she was working, but that wasn't it. The healers and physicians said there was nothing particularly wrong, so I assumed it was temporary. But."
Michelle pressed her lips together.
"A month later, it was the whole finger. Another month after that, the entire hand."
"From one joint to the whole hand?"
"Yes. And the pain kept getting worse. She says it isn't a needle anymore—it's like being stabbed with a knife heated in a fire."
"That's…"
"Good heavens."
The Heavenly Sword Squad and the Light Wind Squad all frowned, knowing full well how savage that kind of pain would be.
"As you can imagine, it only grew worse with time. From the hand to the wrist, the forearm, the arm. From the left hand to the right leg. More than half of that child's body is submerged in pain now."
Michelle's face had gone dark. Her hands trembled, as if she wished the pain were hers instead.
"Famous priests and physicians couldn't find a method of treatment—they couldn't even find the cause. The attacks come closer and closer together, and the pain only deepens, so now she refuses treatment altogether. She says she just wants to die."
"Mm…"
Raon swallowed dryly. If a pain like being stabbed with a knife was radiating through more than half her body, she was suffering something more vicious than death itself.
Even examining her would be difficult.
Anyone touching her during treatment would only make the pain worse. He could understand why she refused.
But something about this feels familiar…
Pain that started like a needle and sharpened into a knife, spreading through the whole body. It sat wrong with him.
"So as a last hope, I decided to try the Saint of Rags. But…"
"You couldn't get in contact with him."
"That's right."
Michelle clutched at her chest and nodded.
Of course.
Pedrick, the Saint of Rags, put the patient in front of him first. Unless every patient in that region was gone, he would not come here to save Michelle's daughter.
"So I used this token. I want you to take her to the Saint of Rags and save my child."
"Understood. We accept the mission."
Sheryl looked at the wooden token inscribed with Glenn's name and nodded.
"Then we should leave at once—"
"I'm sorry, but could we go in a few days?"
"Is there a reason?"
"The healer Temus is in a nearby village, and I'd like her to receive one last diagnosis from him before we leave."
"Temus…"
Raon curled the hand he had drawn behind his back into a fist.
It's been a while since I heard that filthy name.
Temus belonged to House Robert. He was a gifted healer whose name was known across the continent—and one of the confidants who knew the dark face of Derus.
"There's a good chance Encia will refuse Temus's treatment, but I intend to have her seen even if I have to force it."
Michelle's face was drawn and dry. Worry for her daughter and anxiety over the treatment had drained all the color from her.
This has a smell to it.
House Robert had always liked putting outstanding families in their debt, or killing the family head and folding the house under their control. They were not the sort to send their precious Temus for no reason at all.
"If I may."
Raon raised a hand for the first time.
"Would it be possible for me to see your daughter?"
"Encia?"
"Yes. If I understand her current condition and the problem, I believe we can make the proper preparations for travel."
"He's right. We'll need to see her once if we're going to form a plan."
Sheryl agreed with a nod.
"Mm. That child has been ill for over a year, so her nerves are truly raw. Lately she won't even let us take her pulse or check her condition…"
"That's all right. Please just let me see her."
"Hah…"
When he asked again, Michelle let out a sigh of resignation and stood.
"Though you might be all right."
She left that strange remark while looking at Raon's face.
Raon followed Michelle to the innermost room on the ninth floor.
They opened a pink door, and inside, a young woman lay on a large bed. She was a beauty with the same bold, open features as Michelle, but her lips were dry and her skin was pale; she did not look well.
Worse, the left hand that had slipped free of the blanket was swollen red, like glass heated in a furnace.
It's bad.
Raon frowned. With no external wound to show for it, pain like that would be more than an ordinary person could bear.
"Mm…"
Sheryl had felt it too; her expression was grim.
"Her inner energy is far too depleted. We'll need to be careful when we move her."
"We've prepared a carriage. One with as little shock as possible, so it won't burden her…"
While the two of them discussed the carriage, Raon approached Encia.
If Derus had a hand in this…
He had just begun to draw up a thread of aura to examine her when—
"Nnh…"
Encia let out a small sound and opened her eyes. Her orange irises swept over the people in the room, then stopped on Raon.
"E-Encia! Don't be alarmed! These people are—"
"Ah…"
As a flustered Michelle started toward her, words no one could have imagined spilled from Encia's lips.