Right at this moment, Natida felt a sense of déjà vu.
Everything was just as she had seen in her dreams. Natida knew this flow. The moment the sword mark was drawn from her body, she saw the future beyond the splattering drops of blood. Or perhaps, she was witnessing the past that she had already passed.
The Prophet recalled the past she had seen.
*
“I am the bait.”
Grave of the Sword, Galatrick.
The nation had collapsed, and rules were trampled. In a world bubbling with lawlessness, chaos, apostasy, and betrayal, there were those who maintained their pride till the end.
“I’m not alone. Everyone here feels the same. We will be bait.”
Despite there being no more protectors.
Although the kingdom they pledged loyalty to had already fallen.
There were those who wished to remain knights until the very last. Those who clung to their pride as knights gathered under the name of Lac von Grace, not the broken hero.
“To aid him.”
Lac drew the Holy Sword.
Under the brilliantly shining Holy Sword, the knights drew their blades. As those who sensed the end gathered, Natida looked beyond the hill. Something was approaching.
Thud, every time a footstep echoed.
Crackle, something shattered.
After the sound of shattering came an encroaching shadow. A shadow that swallowed all light.
Looking up at the sky, the sun was being devoured by the shadow.
The brilliantly shining star was obscured by darkness. Even the light escaping from the Holy Sword could no longer illuminate the darkness. Foul water trickled down from the darkened sky.
Drip drip drip.
It rained. Rain of foul water.
Following the slope, the foul water flowed. Riding the grooves of the canyon, the trickling foul water turned into a river. Someone stepped onto the blackened Grave of the Sword.
“It’s coming.”
Lac said.
Natida looked ahead.
There was disaster.
Crunch creek creek.
The sound of space twisting echoed.
Emerging from the distortion was the Master of the Demon Lord. The god who regained all qualifications stood there. In his hand was a single sword.
“The Sword of Yeocheon…”
Someone recognized the sword.
The moment the sword began to move slowly, Lac kicked off the ground and charged. Splash, the foul water splattered. Following the pale light of the Holy Sword that wasn’t hidden in darkness, numerous knights chased behind Lac.
Humans prepared to face death rushed in.
And then, the Sword of Yeocheon was swung.
Swish.
The moment the sword was swung, everything collapsed. The heavens and the earth flipped. Countless piles of stones scattered across the canyon shot up to the sky. What was flipped didn’t find its place again. No matter how long they waited, what rose only fell down.
Rubble in the sky and the corpses of humans.
The fragmented corpses of knights were swallowed by the sky. However, their deaths were not meaningless. The knights who shielded Lac until the very end protected his body. From the heap of knights, Lac rose.
“……”
With his foot perched on the pile of stones in the sky, Lac looked down. The moment he met the gaze of the Sword of Yeocheon, Lac kicked off the sky and jumped toward the ground.
The sound of swords clashing.
Crack, bones breaking, splash of blood.
Such sounds echoed repeatedly.
Lac resisted, but that resistance couldn’t last long. It was merely delaying the steps of disaster for a few moments. Lac told Natida to flee, but she couldn’t run away. She thought it would be meaningless to escape.
Then, thud.
The end approached heavily.
All of Lac’s limbs were broken, and he knelt down. With his broken fingers, he could no longer wield the sword, and the discarded sword was stuck in the slope.
Thud.
Lac’s head fell off.
The severed head stopped right in front of Natida. After looking at Lac’s vacant eyes for a moment, Natida raised her head and looked at the disaster with blank eyes. The disaster also looked at Natida. The moment their gazes crossed, the Sword of Yeocheon moved, creaking through space.
Death is approaching.
Under the approaching death, Natida let out a laugh.
…The dream she had until now ended here. However, at this moment, Natida saw what came next. Thus, she understood what she had to do now.
“Lac.”
Natida opened her closed eyes.
“Take me.”
Natida pointed at the Death’s Blade embedded far away.
“Take me there.”
The future she had seen. Or perhaps the past she had overlooked.
The knowledge she had gained from it. To make use of the only thing left by her future self who faced a futile death, Natida shouted.
“Hurry.”
2.
Before the approaching death, humans resisted.
Kalt continuously swung his sword while thinking inwardly. So this was how Master felt. Drawing out time while preparing for death. This was akin to Kuntel’s final moments.
Clang clang!
The sound of blades clashing echoed incessantly. Kalt felt his body breaking with every swing of the sword. Blood pooled in his burst blood vessels. Overwhelmed by calculating too much information at once, his head throbbed. Blood flowed from his nose.
Breaking his body, Kalt resisted.
In his wide-open eyes lay everything.
Based on the information grasped with a broad view, envision a precise future. The only thing he could do was predict.
Swinging the sword while glimpsing the future.
He twisted the trajectory of the sword, sometimes parrying, sometimes daringly plunging in. At the crossroads of life and death, Kalt struggled.
Clang!
Swinging the sword, Kalt thought.
The foundation of the sword wielded by the King of Beasts corresponds to the original martial arts passed down through the canyon. Perhaps the sword wielded by the Death’s Blade holds the same foundation.
Kalt knows how to counter that swordplay.
There was a human. A human who honed his skills his entire life to stand against the Death’s Blade. From that proud knight, Kalt learned swordsmanship. And now, he honed his skills to kill that knight.
Clang clang clang!!
Following the slanting sword Kalt held, Barta’s great sword veered off course. This was Kalt’s sword. A sword to face the strong. However, Kalt felt that his sword was incomplete.
Lacking, in power.
Even if he created a gap, he had no strike to exploit it. All he could do was to cling on.
Cut.
Wounds grew. Blood flowed.
The King of Beasts was now right in front of Kalt. The future he had thought to be certain continued to waver. And then, inevitably, bang, Kalt lost his sword.
The sword spiraled in the air.
Kalt jumped back and reached out. That hand failed to catch the freely spinning sword. This place was the Grave of the Sword. Kalt pulled out a broken sword stuck in the ground.
Crack!
The moment he deflected Barta’s rushing sword, his sword shattered. The fingers holding the sword broke. As Kalt landed smoothly, he reached for his sword spinning in the air, but Barta’s sword had already descended upon Kalt’s head.
Swinging the sword was futile.
What was instinctively felt was death.
“Bow down.”
At that moment, a familiar voice echoed.
The moment Kalt instinctively ducked, a great sword swept by over his head, causing an immense bang.
“…Lac?”
The boy who had told him to flee returned.
For a brief moment, Kalt widened his eyes just as he was about to raise his voice. Lac, having struck away the sword, stepped back, gripping Kalt by the nape.
“You… my words…”
“Ten seconds.”
Lac said, catching his breath.
“You only need to hold on for ten seconds.”
At that moment, as Lac took his stance.
Barta, who had stepped back while watching Lac and Kalt, opened his mouth wide. From the gaping mouth came laughter. However, it was laughter not far from mockery.
“Thank you.”
As if greeting a master, Barta briefly bowed and raised his head again…
Huuh Barta threw the sword he had been holding in his right hand into the air. The sword spun in the air before being grasped, not by the crude hand made of Beast’s corpses, but by his own left hand that had always belonged to him.
The moment Barta gripped the sword with his left hand, the air trembled.
“To the proud knight, my respect.”
Barta took his stance.
3.
Recalling the scenery she had seen, Natida moved forward. Dodging the slashes that lashed out from all directions. She was heading for a single sword.
Where the Death’s Blade was embedded.
Towards there, Natida walked.
*
Lac’s death. The moment she had nothing left to lose.
“Aha.”
Facing the Sword of Yeocheon, Natida did not retreat. Instead, with a hollow laugh, she took a step further toward the disaster. Where was that step directed?
Towards the sword embedded at the canyon’s center.
The bottom of the canyon laid bare, revealed by the rubble shooting up into the sky. At that bottom was a sword embedded there. A great sword, standing alongside Lac’s sword. It was a great sword that symbolized death.
Thud.
Why she headed there was unknown.
Natida, as if drawn by something, approached the sword. The Sword of Yeocheon paused its steps and watched Natida. Natida reached for the Death’s Blade stuck in the ground.
Crunch, the moment she gripped the hilt.
With the surge of sword energy, all five of Natida’s fingers severed from her hand. Blood splattered. Yet, she covered it with her remaining hand. As if offering a prayer.
…Why she prayed was a mystery.
Jokingly, she had always declared that her god was not a star but the Holy Sword that Lac possessed. The moment she lost her god, Natida prayed while holding the Death’s Blade instead of a Holy Sword.
What she wished for was revenge or death.
That prayer was not a prayer offered by a Saint.
It was the wish and hope of a human resolved to face death. Regardless of whether that desire was misguided, humans fervently prayed. That prayer may not reach the god…
Splatter.
Long ago, centuries past.
The warrior who always answered human prayers responded to her cries at the end.
The warrior answered the prayer of humanity.
Clank, the sound of armor trembling echoed.
Behind Natida, beyond the rift in space, a hand covered in armor reached out. The human hand didn’t grasp the Death’s Blade Natida was holding. It stretched further and grasped the First Holy Sword embedded beside it.
Guuuuuuu.
The Holy Sword trembled violently.
As if rejecting the touch. The hand of the human gripping the Holy Sword began to burn, but the fallen warrior remained indifferent. From across the expanse, the First Hero revealed himself.
The most feared disaster.
Death’s Blade, Ganikalt.
The master of Kirmelt Canyon had returned.
The fallen hero drew the Holy Sword. The Holy Sword did not emit starlight. A Holy Sword that did not flow with starlight was nothing but a mere blade.
However, it was still a sword.
As long as it took the form of a sword, that was enough.
The Death’s Blade raised its point toward the Sword of Yeocheon. A moment of silence. Immediately afterward, the two swords were swung toward each other at the exact same speed.
The rushing wind. The whirling sword energy.
Under the scene where everything visible was overturned, Natida let out a hollow laugh.
Caught in the aftermath of the battle, she realized. The Death’s Blade had not come forth to grant the wish she desired. What that swordsman wished for was merely a rematch.
She was just the one providing justification.
So what? Natida let out a broken smile and muttered her last words. Die, all of you. And thus, her future self’s life came to an end. Achieving nothing. Leaving nothing behind.
…But now was different.
Natida exhaled heavily.
As she opened her eyes, the present could be seen. And what stood before her was the Death’s Blade. Swallowing hard, Natida slowly reached out toward the hilt.
To provide justification to the master of this canyon.
*
The shattered gate.
The king of beasts appearing at Kirmelt Canyon. Raniel, biting her lips, dashed out while holding a map, navigating through the debris of the barracks.
As she called out for the knights with a communication network to emerge, Raniel paused mid-step.
A flash of lightning struck her mind. A signal indicating abnormal activity in the contract. Raniel unfolded the map. The blinking dot representing Barta in Galatrick. However, now another dot was flashing as well.
In a place where death is silent, Gehete.
The signal of the Death’s Blade, Ganikalt, which would be waiting for challengers there, blinked fiercely. Just as it flickered for a moment, Ganikalt’s signal disappeared. Eventually, the signal reappeared at…
Kirmelt Canyon, Galatrick.
The master of the Kirmelt Canyon set foot.
