The Sword God Descends?
Time that flowed on was worthless. A life drifting by without meaning. On that day, at twenty-three, when I had finally accepted that nothing I did would ever amount to anything, the world whispered to me.
'I'll show you your meaning.'
As if entranced, I nodded — and that was the day I fell into Murim.
The meaning I had finally found was the sword.
Like clouds drifting without rest, the flowing time piled up and piled up, and before I knew it, twenty-five years had passed.
"So much has happened."
The day I entered Murim, I was venerated as the Cheonja, the Son of Heaven, in Eunbigok simply because I had descended from the sky. The elder sages fawning over me, calling me the Cheonmu Jiche — the Heavenly Martial Body. The time I was chased by the Demonic Cult, which had invaded while the elders were away, and fell from a cliff — only to discover the Secret Art of the Severing Sword along with countless other fortunes. The great sect war fought over a single root of a ten-thousand-year snow ginseng. The day the Demonic Cult hurled its declaration of war at the world. And a year ago — the day I finally crossed blades with the Heavenly Demon.
"Truly, so much has happened."
And so I sat in the pavilion atop the peak of the mountain nearest the heavens.
"The world is at peace these days, is it not?"
"That peace is entirely thanks to you, Master."
The half-ruined world had begun to recover at a astonishing pace. Countless lives had been lost, yet countless lives had been born. Crushed buildings slowly rose again, and the sects that had suffered near-annihilation began to rebuild their strength.
The world called me the Sword God.
"The sky is clear today."
"Indeed it is."
Over the past twenty-five years there had been plenty of wandering, but no romance ever came of it. I had taken in only a single disciple — and somehow, that had become my one lingering regret.
"Bi."
"Yes, Master."
"If I were to vanish, what would you do?"
Namgung Bi fell silent for a moment, then began to speak in a voice that trembled somewhere deep.
"...I would... carry on your will, Master."
"My will... my will. You know full well there is nothing of mine left worth carrying on."
A sensation I had been feeling for some time now. The feeling of space straining at its seams — of the world screaming.
I knew, instinctively, that my time remaining in this world was short.
"Then I would... follow after you."
Follow me... You haven't changed at all, have you.
"That stubbornness of yours is as strong as ever, so I shall say nothing more. Do as you wish."
Only — do not lose your freedom.
"Yes, Master."
"The time has come. Make your preparations to leave the mountain."
"Yes... Master, may you live ten thousand years. Your unworthy disciple takes her leave now..."
I sent Bi off with a deep bow and her final farewell. Now, everything was ready.
"This world wasn't so bad, really..."
Even if my life had felt steeped in blood, I had saved just as many lives in return. That could hardly be called a problem, could it?
"I lived flexibly. That much, I can take pride in."
I had never eradicated every evil. I had never championed every good. And sometimes, I had simply lived as my heart dictated.
"Not a bad life, all things considered."
Now that Bi's presence had fully departed, the world whispered to me once more.
'I'm sorry...'
I've grown too large — the world can no longer bear my existence. That was what it was saying.
"You know there is no need for apology. It is thanks to you that I was able to stand in this place at all."
The world had not merely sent me into Murim — it had given me all manner of support. The language alone: at the start, communication would have been impossible without its help.
'But still...'
The world still hesitated.
"You know as well as I do that none of this is your fault."
'If only I had been a little stronger...'
"Enough self-reproach. You know full well that without your offer, I would have remained nothing more than a nameless worm in the dirt."
'Yeah... I know.'
"Ha, and if you concede that easily, what becomes of your pride?"
'Sorry?'
"It hardly matters. Once you regain your strength, a mortal's pride will be the least of your concerns."
'Mmmhhh...'
It felt as though the world were squirming and twisting about.
"Well. What choice do I have, anyway?"
I owed a great debt. Repaying it was only proper.
I didn't think this would settle every account. But it was the best I could offer.
'If you go back — then everything will be fine. You'll lose your power, but... of course, you could also stay here.'
"Lose my power... In that case, I could hardly remain here, could I?"
This was the world where strength was sovereign. There would certainly be many who championed me. But there would be just as many enemies — and it was obvious what plight a power-less man would find himself in.
"It's a shame to abandon such power, but there's nothing bad about it. How often would I even use it there? In a peaceful world, where Third-Rate is the very ceiling of ability, however great my strength might be, it would be utterly useless."
Physical training alone would be enough to settle any dispute.
"I leave behind a world I've grown attached to, and where I return is home. If fate allows, I know the day we meet again will surely come."
Had it been seven years since I first built this pavilion? Rising from the familiar seat and gazing out at the distant mountains set my heart at ease.
"You and I have spent such a very long time together."
I unfastened the sword from my hip and looked down at it. The sword that had been at my side when I first discovered the Secret Art of the Severing Sword.
'There's no need for me to leave the sword behind, too...'
"You are part of my resolve now, so think nothing of it."
I ran my fingertips along the blade one last time.
Wuuuung—
You cry so heavily. You must be sad as well.
I sheathed the sword and laid it against a pillar of the pavilion. The preparations were complete.
"I am ready."
'Just step in here.'
A hole opened in the empty air, large enough for a single person. Beyond it, nothing could be seen. But there was no fear.
'Thank you.'
The will of the world had always conveyed its heart to me without any proper voice. Yet the feelings came through all the same — perhaps because they had taken root in my own heart.
"I owe you a great debt for all this time. Next time we meet, let us sit face to face and share a proper conversation."
The passage through was comfortable. Like floating in warm water — before I knew it, my eyes had closed on their own.
My mind woke naturally, and my body opened its eyes. Sharpening into clarity, my vision filled with a forest of buildings towering into the sky.
"So I've returned."
Checking my body to see what had changed — it was still the trained form I remembered. No muscle had faded; it was not the body I'd had before Murim.
But my internal energy had evaporated. The power that had once surged through my every limb was gone entirely, and a hollow emptiness gnawed at me.
"No — this is as it should be."
This was, after all, the world I belonged to. This was the natural order. Forgetting one's internal energy was only right.
"My... how considerate, even down to this."
The clothes on my body were nearly identical to what I had worn back then. The black martial uniform, the vanished sword...
But there was something else — a golden dragon embroidery. A gift from the Emperor, something I only draped over myself on occasion, before my disciple or those who came seeking me.
Since it could be attached to clothing, I had simply worn it over my uniform.
"There was really no need to pack this for me..."
When I had stepped into that hole in the air, I had been wearing only my uniform. No doubt she had slipped this in.
Her kindness weighs heavy.
"And just like that, I owe another debt."
I didn't know when the day we'd meet again would come. But when it did, surely the least I could do was brew her tea with my own hands.
"Without a sword at my side, something feels empty..."
Recognizing the absence of the blade that had always hung at my hip felt like losing an arm. Even after I had attained the Mind Sword, I had carried it without fail.
Its absence left a genuine hollowness behind. I had thought myself fully prepared for this — but apparently, I was not.
Just then, the sound of a single person approaching me. Among the many presences around, one set of footsteps was unmistakably aimed at me. I turned to face whoever was coming.
"Y-you're, um, doing a Heavenly Demon cosplay, right? If — if it's not too much trouble... could I maybe take a photo with you?"
The approaching figure was a woman. Her nervous, halting voice rang in my ears.
Korean, is it.
It was my mother tongue, unheard for some twenty-five years, yet it didn't feel the least bit awkward. This, too, must have been the world's arrangement.
But — she was asking whether I was cosplaying the Heavenly Demon? Was this not Earth? And yet, the Heavenly Demon exists here?
Come to think of it, Earth had things called martial arts novels. I vaguely remembered reading a book once with "Heavenly Demon" in the title, so it wasn't hard to accept.
"The Heavenly Demon? Are you referring to me?"
And yet — me, the Heavenly Demon? Even granting that such novels existed, me? With these very hands I slew the Heavenly Demon and severed every last tie to that name. How could I possibly become him?
"Er... um, aren't you cosplaying the Heavenly Demon from Record of the Inky Sword? You really, really suit it so well."
Flustered, she answered me in a dazed face and voice. She seemed somehow... lacking, somehow.
"I am not. In the first place, what is this Record of the Inky Sword you speak of?"
"You really don't know? Hmm, you've really got the concept down, though."
"Did I not just say I don't know it?"
"Then... what's that on your waist, then?"
My waist?
I turned my gaze downward — and there, hanging at my hip, was a sword that had not existed moments ago.
"Ha..."
I immediately untied the cord binding it and examined it closely.
"This is — this really is mine. This is my sword..."
"That's the one the Heavenly Demon uses in Record of the Inky Sword—?"
"This weight, this resilience, and this inky-black blade."
The exact same sight I had looked upon countless times...
"Hah. What a pointless gesture."
I had tried so hard to leave it behind — and in the end, it came back to me anyway.
"So our bond runs deep, does it..."
Wuung—
That lively ring of yours — does it mean you're glad to see me again?
"I-is that a real sword?"
Hm. Ah — we were in the middle of a conversation, weren't we. What a foolish question, though.
"Would it be a training sword, then?"
What sort of martial artist carries a wooden blade on their hip?
"Do you, um, happen to have a sword-carrying permit?"
A sword-carrying permit? The first I'd ever heard of such a thing.
"What in the world is that?"
'What do you mean, what is that?! You're carrying a real blade and you don't know what a sword permit is?!'
I had simply assumed he was a cosplayer. That ink-black outfit — it looked exactly like the Heavenly Demon's garb from inside Record of the Inky Sword.
The quality was so good I wanted to know where he'd ordered it from.
And above all — that face, like a halo shining behind him. The hint of lean, healthy muscle peeking through the fabric that wrapped his frame.
'Is that... a man? What have I even been looking at all my life...'
No! NO! How is that even a human being?!
'Even the Heavenly Demon isn't that handsome! This guy is even better-looking than that...'
I stared at that face, dazed. They say just looking at something can heal you — I bet that saying was coined by someone looking at a face like his.
'This is not the time for this!'
I'd been hovering around the edges, not even daring to approach, until I finally worked up the courage.
'The brave seize the handsome man!'
Granted, it was my big sister who said that. But it came with a full trust rating — she was a police officer, after all. An elite, no less, a police academy graduate.
'You lot can just sit there sucking your thumbs and calling Daddy on the phone!'
I'd stumbled over my words a bit, and something about this guy did seem kind of off — but still!
'Up close, he's even more gorgeous!'
The result of approaching him, bewitched by a face that made the word "stunning" seem insufficient...
"Miss! Help me!"
...I ran away.