*
EP.478 Best Efforts, Trust, Power (3)
*
Clang!
The sword cried out. The sound of the sword echoed back.
The Knight, Barta. Everything except the sword he gripped vanished from Lac’s sight. The noises of stones tumbling down, swallowing dry saliva, and the howling sandstorm faded one after the other.
In the end, all that remained was the sound of the sword’s cry. Only the sound of the sword echoed in Lac’s ears.
The resounding sword, Barta’s laughter and gaze spoke to Lac. This is Barta’s power. This is the answer I have obtained.
“······.”
Lac silently took his stance.
He suddenly realized that the knight who had been on equal footing with him a moment ago was no longer here. The beast he had shared a blade with had taken a step far away in an instant.
Finding his own answer.
Completing his own sword.
The knight who has reached a new realm. The being who had entered the domain he yearned for. Holding the sword that could bring death, Lac exhaled deeply.
···Ultimately, the task at hand remains unchanged.
He sees.
His power, his all, his best.
“Prove it to me.”
Where death remains silent, Gehete.
Beneath the torn sky, the voice of death resonated over the scarred earth. A voice that didn’t just ring in his eardrums but shook his very mind.
Schwing!
What followed was the low ringing of the sword.
Even without a sheath, the death’s blade released a strange noise as it was slowly drawn, as if scraping a sheath. It was as if Ganikalt’s sword was drawing power from this world itself, scraping the air to pull it out.
The tip of the blade pointed toward the challenger who had reached Gehete.
Ganikalt gripped the sword with his left hand from the very beginning.
From the moment he gripped it, he was no mere disaster. An existence that had never given an inch since humanity’s history began··· a being who reached the pinnacle of swords.
The knight, Ganikalt van Galatrick said.
“Come.”
No need for lengthy words.
As if to say he would go directly if they didn’t come, someone took a step towards the slowly lengthening sword of Ganikalt. Tap, a light footstep echoed in the wilderness.
Taking the step forward was Kalt.
Drawing the sword to the hilt, Kalt lightly tossed the empty sheath to the ground. With a thunk, the sheath bounced off the ground only to fall again. Beyond the falling sheath, Kalt took another step forward. As he stepped, he glanced back.
A brief exchange of glances.
Raniel slightly nodded.
Immediately afterward, mana erupted around Raniel. She, capable of instantaneously casting the highest tier spells, began to ‘prepare something.’ As fierce mana surged around her, the winds began to shift.
And Kalt took another step forward.
“Ganikalt van Galatrick.”
He stepped forward, facing Ganikalt directly.
In response to hearing his name, Ganikalt’s eyes narrowed. He recognized the human standing right in front of him. The same human who had survived his strike in the past.
“I stand before you, the first Sword Saint and the progenitor of the Galatrick style.”
The human spoke.
Naming his name, his title, the ones he had built over time. And it was not just a simple statement. With narrowed eyes, Ganikalt saw the trajectory of Kalt’s blade. The posture Kalt held.
Swish!
The smoothly moving blade finally came to a stop, his footsteps and breath perfect in every way. A flawless stance. Truly, a perfect···.
“I am Kalt.”
Of the Galatrick style.
“I am the Sword Saint, Kalt.”
Ganikalt knew what the title of Sword Saint meant. The one who inherited Galatrick. The one who carried the will of Galatrick that he had utterly destroyed. The title of Sword Saint refers to such a being.
···He should have buried it underground.
···He should have broken all the swords and made a grave of them.
The grand tree that he had burned and buried.
Yet, standing before him was the knight who had once again risen and bloomed. In response to this sight, Ganikalt silently tightened his grip on the sword. He readied himself once more.
The stance for the First Style: Initial Kill.
The human who recognized the stance also took the same position. The same breathing. The same footwork. Like two mirrors reflecting the space between them, both knights perfectly matched their stances. The wind subsided.
Swish!
Both knights swung their swords at the same time.
*
CLAAANG!
The swords clashed as they swung at high speed, disregarding the very space between them. Naturally, it was Kalt’s blade that twisted and bent upon impact, swallowed by Ganikalt’s sword.
He knew; the caliber of the technique was inherently different.
Knowing he would be pushed back, Kalt lowered his stance as he swung his sword. With the same posture, he drove the tip into the ground. Kicking the earth, he dashed ahead. He had done this to buy time with the same technique.
Swish!
The blade whooshed just above his head, sending shivers down Kalt’s spine. A blade so sharp it was downright spine-tingling. Indeed, a being worthy of the title of the strongest knight. An existence far removed and distant from him. Now that he faced that existence’s blade, Kalt’s heart raced.
He was afraid, truly.
Having only exchanged one blow, his fingertips trembled. The hand gripping the sword tingled.
‘It’s not for nothing he’s called the Sword Mage.’
However, unlike the first time they met, it was no longer just fear that made Kalt’s heart race. Back then, he swung his sword to escape death, to try to survive. But what about now?
Thud, Kalt stomped the ground.
With each step forward, the distance between them rapidly shrank. Dodging Ganikalt’s swings, Kalt tilted his sword to deflect the blades striking from ridiculous angles.
With each blow deflected, his body screamed, and the blade shook violently, yet… Kalt surely deflected Ganikalt’s cuts. He kept moving forward.
‘I will prove it.’
To prove it, Kalt swung his sword.
To show that the path he had taken was meaningful, and to confirm how far his sword, inherited from Kuntel, reached, he swung.
···On the day he first faced death, Kalt had trembled in fear as he met it. He had to risk his life to deflect a single blow, hazard his entire being to take the brunt of it.
‘No, it wasn’t even that.’
His body had broken down, forcing him to retire.
But now, things were different. Unlike before, Kalt could see. The trajectory of Ganikalt’s sword. The kind of stance Ganikalt had taken. What arc would be swung next··· he could faintly glimpse it.
Seeing it meant he could parry. He could deflect.
The numerous battles he had experienced over the years made Kalt’s movements smooth. Remembering his battle with Kuntel, Kalt stomped the ground and charged.
SWISH!
Sliding forward, Kalt thrust himself right in front of Ganikalt. He had finally closed the distance. As if waiting for that moment, Ganikalt swung down the sword he held high. The blade fell in a straight line.
Simple but, because of its simplicity, it was all the more heavy.
Underneath that falling death, Kalt’s footsteps were chaotically stamped. Kalt twisted his body and exhaled deeply. His blade, angled upwards from below, traced a half-moon.
Galatrick Style, Revision (改).
The Sixth Style: Moon’s Shadow.
The blade wrapped in moonlight clashed against Ganikalt’s sword, dispersing shadows of the moon as it did.
KA-CHING!
At the moment of impact, Kalt’s stance faltered.
Pushed down by the weight behind Ganikalt’s swing, Kalt’s knee slowly dipped. Just as it threatened to touch the ground, Kalt began to crumble under the weight of the death’s blade.
KEEEIING!
With a noise as if space itself was twisting, Kalt twisted his sword. The moon’s shadow scattered everywhere. In an unstable, low stance, Kalt drove his twisted blade downward.
SKRATCH!
As Kalt’s downward slash carried through, Ganikalt’s sword slid sideways. The sliding blade SKEONG smoothly sliced through the ground. The moment the blade’s tip burst forth, its energy cleaved the earth beneath them.
SKEONG!
Before he could be surprised by that fact, Ganikalt’s sword, still embedded in the earth, was striking upward while dragging the ground. Though it was buried deep, its speed showed no sign of slowing.
“···!”
Panicking, Kalt hastily pulled back and swung his sword, but the moment their swords clashed, Kalt’s body shot up into the air. The moon’s shadow dispersed as it tried to warp space, but···.
Tick, tick tick tick tick tick tick!
The moment Ganikalt’s sword made contact, the moon’s shadow was mercilessly ripped apart. In that moment, Kalt’s body floated in mid-air. Ganikalt’s blade marked peculiar paths. His grasp on the sword flickered with numerous afterimages.
“···Ah.”
Kalt’s eyes widened.
At that moment, the scattered afterimages began to align, and Ganikalt swung his sword toward the airborne Kalt. With an upward arc, Kalt urgently tried to thrust his own blade into Ganikalt’s trajectory, but… when their swords met, Kalt heard the sickening crack as his finger broke.
Galatrick Style, Sixth Style.
Not a mimicry of his own, but the true essence of the sixth style filled Kalt’s vision. When the thrust twisted space and struck, Kalt’s perspective flipped upside down. Up, down, left, right; he lost all sense of direction.
Gah!
A mouthful of blood spilled from his lips.
Just before crashing to the ground, Kalt barely managed to twist his body and drove his sword into the earth. SWISH!
Grabbing onto the ground, Kalt barely managed to lift his head, but···.
Guh!
With just one step forward, Ganikalt was swinging his blade. Kalt had no time to catch his breath. Faced with the yawning blade, he feasibly tumbled across the ground. Rolling on the floor, he drew his sword.
KA-CHING!
The moment their swords clashed again, Kalt was pushed back once more. His balance shattered. His breath fell into disarray. As Kalt gasped harshly, it felt as if he swallowed his own breath and gritted his teeth.
Thud, Kalt jumped to the side.
Sliding on the ground, Kalt quickly regained his composure and tightly clutched his blade low. Almost grazing the ground, the blade rose while scattering moonlight. It sought to create a new sword path.
KA-CHING!
However, death wouldn’t allow that. The fiercely swung blade of death smashed through the moonlight. Kalt’s attempts to outline a full moon trajectory for his sword met with utter failure, breaking apart mid-arc.
This continued endlessly.
Attempting to create bizarre trajectories, odd sword strikes, and deviations, Ganikalt unflinchingly smashed them down in front of him. Simply swinging his sword straight was enough to intercept everything Kalt unleashed. Everything crumbled.
Hah…
Kalt let out a hollow laugh.
The numerous sword paths that had once filled his sight had now dwindled to a single digit. All paths were severed. Looking around, he saw the entire area had become pitch black. The darkness was the results of the death’s path, while his moonlight barely shone through in a few scant lines.
···The surroundings were dark.
As the encroaching darkness attempted to engulf Kalt, a sudden flash ignited behind him. A flash that dispelled the darkness. Without turning, Kalt knew what that flash was. He let out a hollow laugh.
‘I thought I’d die waiting.’
Kalt gritted his teeth and squeezed out the remaining strength. With his eyes wide open, he stomped his foot down.
Churururur!, the sound of chains rang in his ears. Kalt didn’t think of anything else. He swung his sword and leaped without thinking of where to step next, where to connect after swinging, focusing entirely on swinging with all his might.
KA-CHING!
At the moment the swords clashed, a brief stalemate ensued. Time itself stretched for no more than a second. Yet, in that moment, Kalt had managed to catch Ganikalt’s sword. Not deflected, but meeting it equally.
However, that balance also wouldn’t last long.
As the equilibrium shattered, Ganikalt’s sword lunged to devour Kalt. With a chururur, the chain spiraled around Kalt’s arm, pulling him away. Bound by the chains, Kalt was forced off Ganikalt’s path.
Chururur!
Tumbling and rolling on the ground, Kalt finally released the long-held breath. As he gasped, he moaned.
“F-Fast, please…”
“Good work.”
Kalt gazed up at Raniel standing before him. Surrounding her were vast holes in the fabric of space.
“I’m ready.”
As Ganikalt glared at Raniel from a distance, he swung his sword. Before the rushing force of the blade that shook the earth, Raniel did not react. She merely raised her arms. Sticking her palms together, she clapped.
“Come.”
In that moment, space expanded in an instant. The opening didn’t become a teleportation portal for living beings. It was not a space to move all objects. Rather, it was a teleportation gate meant to move the tower that Raniel had created.
As space opened, something with immense mass poured forth.
At the moment of collision between the raging wave of sword energy and the unidentified black pillar that crossed through, the energy distorted. Ganikalt’s eyes narrowed, while Raniel exhaled deeply.
Boom! Thud!
The black pillars were not limited to one.
From beyond the open space, more pillars continued to descend. The pillars resonated with one another, drawing in the pouring fragments. The result was a tower.
Boom! Thud! Thud!
The ground trembled.
Surrounding Ganikalt, who stood in the silent land of death, Gehete, the massive pillars successively struck the ground. A total of 37 towers were driven deep into the earth.
Chururururur!
Thousands and thousands of chains extend, connecting the towers. A web formed by the chains would be in the center of the 37 towers. Standing above that web, Raniel stretched her hands toward the heavens, as if to seize the sky.
In that moment.
The 37 magic towers (魔塔).
The magic tower that imprisoned Ganikalt vibrated in unison.
