The World Is Vast
Screeeech!
Raon's aura and the Third Prince's slammed together head-on, and their swords screamed against each other.
A force climbed from Raon's ankles and packed itself into his forearms. Weight like a boulder on his back exploded from the face of his blade.
"Ghk!"
Both of the Third Prince's hands trembled on the hilt like aspen leaves.
This is insane!
One defeat had already taught him that Raon was strong. He had never imagined the boy possessed enough power to overwhelm him even in a direct clash.
"Graaaah!"
The Third Prince clenched his teeth and roared. He drove his sword through to the end, as if yielding here would mean death.
BOOOOM!
The two training swords glanced off each other, sending Raon sliding left and the Third Prince staggering right.
"Ugh!"
The Third Prince pivoted on his left foot and settled into stance — fast, textbook-clean movement, the kind that looked ready to receive any attack that came. His opponent slipped the prediction entirely.
Thump!
Raon stepped through the Garam Footwork, recovering his stance and shifting position in the same motion. He glided like water and appeared behind the Third Prince.
"Kh!"
Having finally brought his true skill to bear, the Third Prince reacted faster than before. He retreated and thrust.
Chiiing!
Raon twisted the face of his blade and shoved aside the sword aimed at his wrist.
"I'm not done!"
The Third Prince's blade bent like a living snake and shot not at the wrist but at Raon's chest. Hunger for victory burned in his eyes.
Clang!
Raon's gaze never wavered. He put a reverse spin on his training sword and unraveled the rotation packed into the Third Prince's blade.
"Ghk!"
The Third Prince groaned and was driven back. His jaw trembled, his expression one of disbelief.
"H-how…?"
"I've seen it once before."
Raon glanced at Burren, standing behind the Third Prince. He'd simply erased the rotation in the blade the same way he had when fighting that guy.
"Monster or genius…"
The Third Prince bit his lip and lowered his stance. He gripped the sword in both hands and angled it on a diagonal. It was a posture Raon had seen throughout the match, but the presence rolling off it now was different.
Peres Swordsmanship.
One of the three royal sword arts that only the future of the Owen Kingdom was permitted to learn. A martial science of ascent left behind centuries ago by Peres, once the greatest swordsman on the continent — a style that held the flow of the heavens, attack and defense unfolding as one.
"Hahp!"
The Third Prince stamped down with a solid kiai and charged like a gale, sweeping his sword upward.
Thud!
Raon didn't meet the blade. He flowed through the Garam Footwork, slipping past the sword the way a branch yields to the wind.
The Third Prince brought the raised blade down and stuck to him. His aura control had settled; his speed was high, yet his balance never broke.
Clang!
Raon flicked the Third Prince's sword aside with the Yeonseong Sword Art and stepped back.
"I won't let you get away this time!"
The Third Prince never slowed his pursuit, unfolding a still more complete Peres Swordsmanship. True to the meaning of holding the sky, a grand yet subtle energy clung to his edge.
Not bad.
Raon smirked as he felt the Third Prince's blade graze past his forehead.
He's different from before.
Both his power and his will had changed since their last fight.
So this is what a great kingdom looks like…
No wonder the Owen Kingdom was recognized as one of the Six Kings. Even at that young age, the prince understood what mattered in a fight.
There was always the possibility of clashing with Owen someday. Raon had meant to commit the kingdom's high-level swordsmanship to memory for that day, and he was getting a proper education. On top of that, the Third Prince kept thinking as he fought, constantly adjusting his movement. An interesting opponent.
CLANG!
Raon violently knocked aside the blade that curved toward his neck. A sharp sword strike — but he'd already finished reading it. Because he'd been fighting with the Ring of Fire active, grasping the prince's swordsmanship hadn't been difficult. Every form the Third Prince unfolded stacked itself neatly inside Raon's mind.
Clang! Clash-clash-clash!
Raon stopped using footwork altogether. He planted his legs into the earth and received every last technique of the Third Prince's sword.
"Huh…"
"Insane!"
The Third Prince's eyes bulged as if they might pop from his skull, and Duke Tartan's jaw dropped.
"Hoo…"
The Third Prince let out a long breath and took a step back. He rolled his shoulders and reset his grip.
"I'm not finished. I have one last technique."
With those words he raised his sword — a high guard, as if holding up the sky — and kicked off the ground.
A secret art?
Raon narrowed his eyes. High-level swordsmanship always had secret techniques worthy of the name. It seemed the Third Prince intended to use the hidden art of Peres Swordsmanship.
Whoooom!
A current of force spread from the Third Prince's entire body, pressing in, sealing off any chance of evasion — a charging sword art that would bring the blade down from the front.
I'll take it.
Raon flicked his sword to the left. He'd seen enough of the swordsmanship. It was time to end this.
Scarlet flame bloomed from the tip of the blade, spinning like saw teeth, and carved through the heat of the sparring ground.
"Haaaahp!"
Even seeing the fire surge from Raon's blade, the Third Prince didn't retreat. He trusted his own aura and his own sword.
Chiiiiiing!
The slender column of flame split the Third Prince's aura apart.
"What—!"
Through the sundered blue aura, the Third Prince's wide-blown eyes were visible. But he hadn't become the Third Prince of Owen for nothing. He wrenched up the last of his aura and plugged the gap.
"It's useless."
Raon's voice was flat as he cut all the way through with the training sword.
"Not yet! My sword is— huh?"
The Third Prince's jaw trembled as he froze the descending blade.
No — he had no choice but to freeze it. His sword was already broken.
Raon's Revolving Axis had cut not only the Third Prince's aura, but his training sword as well.
"Hah…"
The Third Prince sank to the ground. He stared at the broken blade with vacant eyes.
"I… I had the advantage in power and speed…"
"Stepping back with footwork doesn't mean you're being overpowered. Sometimes you give ground on purpose, to create an opening."
"…I felt that clearly enough."
The Third Prince sighed and stood. He gathered the broken sword, straightened his armor and his hair, and came to stand before Raon once more.
"You have my thanks. Accepting a second bout taught me a great deal. The saying that the world is vast… was the truth."
With that, he bowed his head. The gesture was so courteous it truly suited a prince.
"I learned a great deal as well."
Raon bowed in return.
"I'm sorry I looked down on you at the start. Please consider it the blindness of this unworthy fool."
"It's fine."
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"Ha. I lost in both sword and character to a swordsman younger than myself."
The Third Prince laughed hollowly. It was the face of his true nature showing through.
"I think you'll be all right."
He reached inside his armor and drew out a token engraved with a lion that glittered with blue light. The name Grier was carved on the reverse.
"Please take this."
"This is…"
"What?"
Raon's eyes flew wide. What the Third Prince had handed over was a token that symbolized the prince himself — an object that, as he'd said, could compel him to grant a favor.
"Why would you give this to me…?"
"I lost, and yet my mind feels clearer than before. That's a first for me. It's as if I've grasped something."
The Third Prince muttered that, compared to what he'd gained, the token was cheap.
"Mm…"
Raon accepted the token with a faintly awkward expression.
"We'll meet again someday. When we do, I hope you'll still be standing above me, just as you are now. I think catching up to you will be entertaining."
The Third Prince smiled without a wrinkle of resentment. He stepped down from the sparring ground and came to stand before Rimer.
"Instructor Rimer. We lost. The wager will be honored as we discussed."
"Understood."
Rimer nodded, still wearing that same smile.
"Duke Tartan."
"Yes."
"We're leaving. Something I need to do has just occurred to me."
"Yes!"
The Third Prince and Duke Tartan led the trainee knights out of the training ground.
"Hmph! Acting all high and mighty to the very end. So annoying!"
Marta snorted in displeasure and kicked the wrecked sparring ground.
"Putting on airs, huh…"
Raon shook his head as he watched the Third Prince's receding back. There had been no dizziness in the prince's eyes.
That's not it.
He had changed, and he would keep changing. The same way Burren and Marta had.
And…
Raon clicked his tongue looking at the token in his hand. He'd accepted the bout purely for training. He hadn't expected to receive something like this.
Strange.
Perhaps because his previous life had been nothing but unpaid assassination, he couldn't quite adjust to this kind of sudden compensation. He didn't know the intent, or why it had been given. He could tell, at least, that it wasn't meant in malice.
This life doesn't go according to plan either.
The Third Prince went straight to the Audience Chamber. When he announced he would be returning earlier than scheduled, the doors opened and Chief Butler Roen stepped out.
"The Family Head bids you enter."
"…Understood."
The Third Prince swallowed hard and followed Roen into the Audience Chamber.
"Hhk…"
The moment he met Glenn's eyes — eyes that seemed not to have changed in the slightest from their first meeting — his breath caught in his throat.
Glenn's voice rolled out low just as the prince was about to drop to one knee. It sounded as if he already knew everything.
"It shames me to admit, but I believed myself the best. I thought I could stand against the talents of the other Six Kings and not be broken — not merely those of the Owen Kingdom."
The Third Prince lifted his sunken gaze and went on.
"I thought the same here at Zieghart. I toured the training grounds and saw no trainee who satisfied me. That remained true even at the 5th Training Ground. There were three strong ones, and I believed I could beat them. But…"
The Third Prince rubbed the right wrist Raon had struck.
"There was a powerhouse there I couldn't even begin to read. Raon Zieghart. I dismissed the martial strength of a trainee younger than myself, and I was defeated outright. The second bout I forced upon him, I lost as well."
"Hrm."
At Glenn's response, the Third Prince lifted his head a fraction. Suddenly the atmosphere in the Audience Chamber seemed to have softened, just a little. As if to say, go on. Tell me more.
"I have visited three of the Six Kings, and I have sparred as well, but I have never seen a trainee like Raon. Power, character, spirit — it was like looking at a martial artist already complete. And because I lost to a child like that, I felt not bitterness, but enlightenment."
The more the Third Prince spoke, the warmer the Audience Chamber grew, like spring coming in.
"He is younger than I am, and yet a swordsman from whom there is much to learn."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. That is why I intend to return at once. I wish to embody what I grasped from watching that boy, without delay."
"Then I understand. Tell His Majesty that I received his letter well."
"You have my thanks."
The Third Prince offered Glenn a proper bow of respect and left the Audience Chamber.
"…Pff."
With the two of them alone in the Audience Chamber, a sound leaked out as if someone were fighting a laugh. Roen had a hand over his mouth, looking at Glenn.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Seeing the Family Head smile made me laugh as well, quite naturally."
"A smile?"
Glenn brought a hand to his mouth, felt the curve of it, and frowned.
"You've been smiling ever since the Third Prince of Owen spoke Young Master Raon's name. It seems you were pleased to hear your grandson praised by a prince of another nation."
"…You're imagining things."
Glenn cleared his throat for no reason and propped his chin on his left fist.
"Heh—"
"Do not laugh."
"Yes, sir!"
Roen laughed even louder, then shut his mouth completely at Glenn's words.
"You've been hanging around Rimer too much lately. You've caught that fool's disease."
Glenn sighed and closed his eyes, but the smile hanging on Roen's lips showed no sign of leaving.
"Your Highness. Preparations to depart are complete."
When the Third Prince emerged from the Lord's Palace, Duke Tartan approached.
"You've done well. We've paid our respects, so I believe we can leave at once."
"Understood. Fall in, all of you."
"Yes!"
At Duke Tartan's word, the knights and trainee knights formed up behind him.
"Let's go."
"Mm…"
The Third Prince walked at the head of the column, and Duke Tartan stuck to his side, working his mouth as if something were stuck in his teeth.
"Something you wish to say?"
"When you sparred with that trainee, Raon. Releasing the power you'd been hiding, and even using Peres Swordsmanship — I wonder if that wasn't a little excessive. Power is best kept moderately concealed…"
"I know. It was excessive, that's certain."
"Yes. Peres Swordsmanship is the kingdom's highest-level sword art. There is nothing to be gained by revealing it. And to hand over the Prince's Token on top of that was far too—"
"That, it was not."
Duke Tartan's words were cut off by the Third Prince's hand.
"Raon Zieghart showed me goodwill. We started with contempt, and he treated us with courtesy."
"Mm…"
"I merely returned that courtesy. And that friend displayed a sword art that could well be called a secret technique himself."
"…That is true."
"And giving him the token was an investment."
"An investment, you say?"
Duke Tartan tilted his head.
"A boy with that kind of power, character, and mental fortitude at his age will become a figure whose name resounds across the entire continent, even as a collateral descendant. If I cultivate a friendship with someone like that, it may well help me in the future."
"I see. To have seen that far in the moment itself — Your Highness is remarkable."
"I grew up in a kingdom where you live with a knife at your chest and on your tongue. If I couldn't make a calculation that simple, I'd deserve to die."
The Third Prince smirked and strode on ahead.
"Hrm…"
Duke Tartan scratched his chin. Unlike a moment ago, when he had been at the Third Prince's side, his expression now held nothing but cool appraisal.
He's certainly changed.
The childish arrogance that had colored the Third Prince's temperament before they came here was gone entirely. What leaked from his eyes now was zeal for growth.
"I really ought to buy him a drink."
Duke Tartan glanced at the 5th Training Ground beside them and smirked.
"If we meet again, that is. And…"
He thought of Raon inside the training ground, and his gaze settled.
I wonder. What kind of monster he'll have become the next time we meet.