Eye of the Storm

The black ship came on like a blade, its prow carving through the rough waves still churning from the aftermath of battle.

Raon swept his gaze down the enormous warship whose far end he could barely make out, then let out a short breath.

Dark Cloud, huh.

It was his first time seeing it in person, but he'd heard the name. It was the flagship of Roman, a Grandmaster whose reputation thundered even among the South-North Alliance's highest ranks — a vessel that had never once recorded a defeat, earning it the title of invincible.

They said he'd gone mad for martial arts.

Roman was famous not only for his strength but as a martial lunatic who'd lost himself entirely to the study of combat. There were even rumors that the only reason he'd joined the South-North Alliance was a sparring contract with its lord.

"Th-the Dark Cloud?"

"Why is the Dark Cloud all the way out here?!"

"T-Tiller? Did they come because of Tiller? What are we supposed to do…"

The people of Doran Village still aboard the White Spear stared at the pitch-black hull, their eyes trembling.

"Sh-shouldn't we run? Even now?"

"It's already too late. They'd catch us before we got clear!"

"The moment we move, they'll sink us."

The village chief bit down hard on his lower lip.

He's right.

Raon nodded in agreement. Gray cannon muzzles beyond counting bristled along the Dark Cloud's bow and both flanks. The slightest movement would send war-magic shells turning the entire river into a sea of fire.

"Hah."

Rimer let out a short breath and turned around. The tension of a moment ago was gone; he wore the same easy smile as always.

"Wh-what's going on?"

"Why is a South-North Alliance ship coming this way?"

"Who's even on that thing…"

"S-Squad Leader."

The swordsmen of the Light Wind Squad gripped their blades with trembling hands, cowed by the tremendous aura pouring off the Dark Cloud.

"I don't know why they're coming either. But I do know who's riding inside."

Rimer leaned his back against the deck railing and clicked his tongue.

"Roman Raykal. The South-North ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Alliance Lord's closest confidant — and a monster who reached Grandmaster."

"R-Roman Raykal!"

"The Axe King!"

The Light Wind Squad swordsmen cried out in shock the instant Roman's name left Rimer's mouth. His reputation was high enough that everyone present knew it.

"The Axe King, Roman…"

"He's still just a river pirate!"

Burren swallowed dryly, clearly familiar with the name, while Marta bared her fighting spirit as if she weren't afraid at all.

"Mm."

Runaan, who of course had never heard of Roman, simply stared at the approaching ship with a vacant look.

"Kh…"

Garam was shaking even worse than the villagers. The energy radiating from the Dark Cloud seemed to trigger some instinctive, primal fear.

"Eh, no need to get that tense."

Rimer waved a hand, easy and unconcerned.

"We'll probably walk away from this just fine."

He grinned as if nothing serious would come of it, then turned his back again.

The Dark Cloud did not slow even as it closed to the White Spear's very prow. It looked ready to ram them and smash the ship to splinters.

Raon stared at the Dark Cloud filling his vision, then lowered his eyelids. He circulated his aura and took stock of his body.

Not bad.

His flesh was wounded, his muscles damaged, and internal injuries had bloomed — but it was nothing like the critical state he'd been in after clashing with Eden. He'd kept the Ring of Fire turning the entire time, restoring both body and aura, so he could still fight.

I can take anyone at Master rank.

He couldn't beat Roman, of course. But Tiller's level? He was confident. If Rimer held Roman off while the rest of them dropped the others fast and then joined forces, they might have a chance.

Raon ran through a mental simulation of a battle against the Dark Cloud, then opened his eyes. As expected, the ship had not stopped. It came on as if it meant to split the White Spear in two.

He stepped back and raised a barrier of aura to shield the villagers and Garam on the deck.

The Dark Cloud's prow slammed into the White Spear's flank. Only after crushing more than half the deck did that colossal hull finally come to rest.

A sound like someone kicking off solid ground rang out from atop the Dark Cloud. A white-haired man in his middle years hung in midair for a moment, looking down over the entire White Spear, then slowly descended.

Dull white hair swept back, a pitch-black greatcoat wrapped around his frame. In his hand, an axe shaped like a dragon's head writhed with a hegemonic spirit that could split the world itself. Even in the gale, neither his hair nor his coat so much as stirred — the mark of a martial artist whose inner and outer cultivation had been perfected as one.

Raon clenched his molars.

That's him. Axe King Roman Raykal.

An aura that encompassed the entire Rable River. For a mere appearance to carry this much weight — it was force enough to explain why he bore the name Axe King.

The instant both of his feet touched the deck, the air changed again. A hegemonic spirit beyond mere pressure, something that seemed to seize the throat itself, surged outward like a tidal wave.

"Khh…"

"Wh-what is this…"

"Haaah!"

The Light Wind Squad swordsmen clutched their chests, unable to breathe under the aura pouring from Roman.

Just as saliva was about to spill from their open mouths, a wind blew through. A cool green breeze, nothing like the river gale, swept Roman's aura away.

"Still picking on kids, I see."

Rimer tilted his chin and snorted a laugh.

"They're simply weak."

Roman didn't so much as glance at the Light Wind Squad as he lifted his head. The two men seemed to know each other; they started talking without even exchanging names.

"Where has the owner of this ship gone, and why are you aboard it, Radiant Blade of Zieghart?"

"He's dead."

Rimer announced Tiller's death as if the man had simply gone off on a trip.

"Did you kill him?"

Roman showed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no surprise. His expression didn't shift at all, as if he'd expected it from the start.

"No. Our vice-squad leader cut him down in a single stroke."

At those words, Roman's gaze turned toward Raon for the first time.

Raon chewed the inside of his cheek.

Powerful.

Meeting those dark eyes — like staring into the deep sea — made every hair on his body stand on end. The pressure on his shoulders grew steadily heavier, and his heart felt as if it were being crushed.

But…

He had endured worse than this twice already. Glenn and Wrath. Having withstood the auras of those two monsters, this much was nothing. He straightened his back and met Roman's eyes head-on.

"Hm."

A faint gleam stirred in Roman's sunken pupils. The look of a man who hadn't expected anyone to withstand his aura.

"Who are you…"

"Heyyy! Long time no see!"

A second figure leapt down from the Dark Cloud. A man in a gray bear-skin vest. The yellow headband around his forehead snapped in the wind, and his smile was wide and easy.

He flipped a somersault in midair and landed lightly on the railing. Unlike Roman, his presence was as light as a feather.

"Raon Zieghart, right?"

"Lector."

It was Lector, a stronghold master of the South-North Alliance — the same man Raon had met on his first mission, after killing a bandit chief and a snake sorcerer.

Hasn't changed a bit.

A great deal of time had passed, yet neither his appearance nor his clothes had hardly changed. The tiger skin had simply become bear skin.

"Khh! I knew it. Even from a distance, that aura of yours was overflowing!"

Lector let out an admiring whistle and nodded.

"Raon Zieghart? The Frost-Flower Sword Hero, then."

Roman narrowed his eyes as he looked this way.

So he knew who I was.

For a martial artist of that caliber to know his name — the epithet Frost-Flower Sword Hero had spread farther than he'd thought.

"That's right! The Frost-Flower Sword Hero himself! Makes that blessing I gave him worth it, huh."

Lector nodded, grinning.

"Blessing?"

"Yeah. I said I hoped your name would be heard on Mount Terukan and the Rable River, remember?"

He looked at Raon and gave a thumbs-up.

"I'll say it now — that was a pretty good blessing. One of the few kind words that ever come out of the South-North Alliance."

"Am I supposed to thank you?"

"Nah, no need. I did it 'cause I felt like it."

Lector shrugged. His martial power had grown, but his personality seemed to have gotten even lighter.

"What brings you here?"

"Heard there was something fun going on downriver, so I dragged Big Bro along against his will. Turns out there's something even more fun right here."

He pointed at the White Spear with a sly grin.

So they didn't come because they knew.

Roman and Lector hadn't arrived because they knew about this incident. They'd been passing along the Rable River, seen that something was wrong with the White Spear, and come to look.

"We're acquainted too, aren't we?"

Lector looked at Rimer and smacked his lips.

"Good thing I ran last time. Didn't know you were the Radiant Blade."

"Yeah, it's been a while."

Rimer nodded at Lector.

"So the owner of this ship is dead, you said?"

"That's right."

"That's… a bit of a problem."

Lector cocked his head, then snapped his fingers.

The instant the sound cracked, bandits and water pirates poured down from the Dark Cloud in a swarm. Every last one of them was an Expert-level fighter capable of concealing their energy.

"Why did you kill him?"

Roman turned his sunken gaze. The fact that he was asking at all meant he was willing to talk.

"That's…"

"I'll explain."

Rimer had been about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to speak when Raon stepped forward. He was the one who'd been most deeply involved in this affair. He needed to be the one to speak.

"This whole incident began with Tiller's greed…"

Lector smacked his lips as he watched Raon lay out what had happened on the Gazelle River.

That idiot hasn't changed a bit.

Tiller had always been the type to miss the big picture and obsess over small things. Even as the Alliance Lord's fourth disciple, he'd been pushed aside by the fifth and sent all the way out here — precisely because he couldn't see the size of his own vessel.

Lector had thought the man might have finally gotten his head on straight after reportedly subjugating several rivers and villages. Instead he'd done something brainless and gotten his neck taken by Zieghart's rising star. A death befitting a fool. It almost made him laugh.

Good riddance.

Tiller had been a successor candidate, but his chances of becoming the next Alliance Lord had been as close to zero as they came. He wasn't even part of Lector's faction, and he'd only ever drained the Alliance's strength. His early death was, if anything, satisfying.

That man will be furious, though…

Tiller's grandfather — the one who'd played the biggest role in making him a disciple of the Alliance Lord, and a member of the Elder Council — would raise hell. Not that it was any of Lector's concern.

That aside.

Lector ran his eyes over Raon, who was calmly explaining the situation, and smiled.

He's grown up properly.

Even back then, the boy had possessed martial power excessive for his age. Now he'd reached a realm that couldn't even be compared to those days. A Master at eighteen — and not just any Master, but one capable of cutting down Tiller, who'd been close to the middle stage. It was almost hard to believe.

I'm glad I didn't kill him.

Rimer in the tree had been a threat at the time, true — but Lector had also been curious how far this genius would go, which was why he'd even spoken the South-North Alliance's blessing. Of course, he never imagined the boy would grow this much.

And it's not just raw strength.

Even with Roman pouring out that tremendous aura, Raon was speaking calmly. His mind had matured beyond his martial power. He looked like a warrior who'd already weathered every storm there was.

Kinda jealous, honestly.

He should've found a way to bring the kid over back then, no matter what it took.

In a martial organization, the leader's strength and the number of experts mattered — but the talent of a young rising star mattered just as much. Thanks to Raon, who'd reached Master at eighteen, cut down two of Eden's executives, and now even Tiller, Zieghart's fame would climb to the heavens.

Well. That's only if he walks away from here alive.

Knowing Roman's temperament, it wouldn't matter what crime Tiller had committed. He'd try to wipe every last Zieghart in front of him off the face of the earth.

Lector leaned back against the railing and smiled to himself.

"Wonder how this is gonna go."

"…And that is how I cut off Tiller's head."

Raon finished telling Roman and the other water pirates everything that had happened.

"Mm…"

"So he shed his human skin, did he."

"No wonder all we kept hearing were good reports."

Even the South-North Alliance martial artists frowned, sickened by the demonic way Tiller had toyed with an entire people's lives.

"And?"

Roman's expression, however, hadn't shifted in the slightest. He was so composed it almost seemed as if he'd known all of it already.

"Where in any of that is a reason to kill a successor of the South-North Alliance?"

He cocked his chin as if to say, Is that all?

"He set his sights on Zieghart territory. He attacked the Chungru Tribe, who were living quietly, took their children hostage, and forced them to assault people. The moment this came to light, he charged in to massacre every witness. There's plenty more, if you'd like me to keep going."

Raon raised his fingers one by one as he listed the reasons.

Hmm? Were you not the one who struck first?

Shut up.

Everyone who'd seen it was already dead. What mattered was building a plausible justification and a set of reasons.

"Trivial reasons."

Roman shook his head as if none of it meant anything. He looked as though he were dismissing even the name of Zieghart itself — and somehow, with that hegemonic spirit of his, it suited him.

"You never intended to listen from the start."

It seemed he'd had no intention of letting them go from the moment he arrived.

"A successor of the South-North Alliance is dead. The reason does not matter. Blood for blood — that is the law of the South-North Alliance."

"What, are your ears plugged?"

Rimer stepped forward, digging a finger in his ear.

"Your successor threw the first punch, got hit back, and died. You can't even understand that?"

"Radiant Blade of Zieghart. Do you wish to die?"

"Think you can kill me?"

"Don't bluff. Word that your dantian shattered and you became a cripple has already reached the Rable River."

"Then how about a wager?"

"A wager?"

"You cited the law of the South-North Alliance, so I'll cite a legend of the Rable River."

Rimer grinned and pointed at the rolling waves.

"You know the legend, don't you? That when the waves of the Rable River crash three times, they swallow any ship whole."

"I know it."

"I'll take three exchanges, just like that legend. If you bring me down, do whatever you want with us. But if I endure those three exchanges, you withdraw of your own accord."

Rimer curled the corner of his mouth, goading Roman.

"No answer? Don't tell me you aren't confident you can drop a cripple with a broken dantian in three hits."

"Your talent for provocation, at least, has improved."

Roman slowly closed his eyes, opened them, and rolled his shoulders.

"Very well. I'll take that bait."

He lifted the crimson axe that had been pressing into the deck. The mere act of gripping his weapon amplified his weight exponentially.

His aura crushed the entire deck, as if Roman alone existed in this place.

"Squad Leader…"

"Hey now! Don't go sticking your nose in a fight between adults."

Raon had started toward Rimer when the man waved him off.

"Just watch from back there."

"But…"

"Believe in me, every once in a while."

He gave Raon the same lighthearted smile as always, then stepped in front of Roman.

"You lot, fall back too."

Lector also pulled the water pirates and bandits who'd crossed onto the ship back. He smacked his lips at length, clearly excited.

"Then we begin."

Roman took his beloved Red Dragon Axe in both hands and raised it overhead. The river wind stopped. The clouds in the sky were crushed in half. It was as if every energy in the world were gathering to him.

"No need to go to three exchanges. I'll end this in a single blow."

"That's going to be hard."

Rimer set his sword at mid-guard. A deep green radiance shimmered along the snow-white blade.

"I haven't just been sitting around either."

"Interesting."

Roman stamped his foot and brought the axe down. Black Ganggi flared atop the crimson axe and spat fire.

An enormous force, as if the sky itself were collapsing, poured straight down.

Even before that world-warping axe strike, Rimer did not retreat. He pointed his sword at the heavens and his hand at the river.