EP.485 Sword of Yeocheon (1)
“Next.”
Death’s Blade, Ganikalt.
He felt alive at this moment.
“Is there nothing next?”
Crimson blood streamed from his severed right arm.
The scent of soot lingered from his body, ravaged by the reverse lightning. Ganikalt was feeling the pain that he hadn’t experienced for centuries.
Feeling pain, paradoxically, he felt life.
The great sword in his hand was heavy. As it always was, it wasn’t light, and because it was heavy, he could feel the weight contained within the sword. By feeling the weight of the sword, he understood how to wield it.
“I am not yet fallen.”
I have not yet been brought down.
Bring me death. Now that I finally feel alive, bring me the death that will end this long life. Your role is over; declare that you are leaving this place.
‘Please, bring me death.’
Death longs for its own demise.
It wished for one who would surpass it, to be pierced by the blade of humanity that had grown and grown. It hoped that the sacrifices of its past self and comrades would mean something.
“It is not enough.”
Groaning, Ganikalt swung his sword.
“This isn’t enough.”
A little more, just a little more.
He hoped that after pushing himself, after passing on his swordsmanship to his successors, they would surpass him.
Like that day when he clashed swords with Kyle Toven.
He hoped they would showcase a strike that transcended him, demonstrate an unwavering will against anything, and thus… prove that humanity had overcome its greatest calamity.
Death.
Ganikalt van Galatrick wished for it, again and again.
*
Everything felt distant.
He barely managed to rise, but then again, that was all. Raniel felt that her body could no longer move. The price of overlapping acceleration, the burden of reverse lightning, the overuse of mana.
Countless shackles bound Raniel’s body.
At the moment she tried to draw up mana, she coughed up a mouthful of crimson flesh. Breathing heavily, Raniel looked ahead. Everything felt so distant that she faced the situation with her own two eyes.
“————!”
There was Kalt, screaming as he charged death. Kalt’s condition was also in shambles. His cherished sword was broken, and his breathing was ragged.
… But what about the enemy?
Ganikalt stood unfazed.
Still firmly planted on his two feet, he swung his sword, sharper than before. At the clash of Death’s Blade and Kalt’s broken sword, Kalt’s body flew into the air.
“Urgh…!”
Kalt spat blood and rolled on the ground.
Kalt tried to stand immediately, but his hand that had touched the ground slipped, and he fell pathetically. He was in no shape to stand.
… Crunch.
Raniel gritted her teeth.
The 37 magic towers she boasted of had all collapsed. The space created by the towers was shattered by Ganikalt’s swinging Sword of Yeocheon. The remaining mana was just a handful, and her physical body was already a mess.
She couldn’t use reverse lightning.
She couldn’t draw up mana.
What about the opponent? They grew stronger. Raniel didn’t know how to block the blade wielded by Death, now perfected by tearing off his arms.
‘I’ve broken all my fingers in worship, I’ve drawn all the mana down to the ground…’
Not even a counter, she couldn’t withstand the aftermath.
The Sword of Yeocheon wielded by Ganikalt, having torn off his own arm, aimed not at Raniel, but at the fake sky created by the towers. If the sword strike had aimed at her, she would have died instantly.
She couldn’t block it. She could not counter.
She couldn’t think of a way to win.
“Cough, urgh…”
Spitting blood, Raniel barely managed to lift her arm. A small starlight flared up in her grasp. The only handful of starlight remaining to her. That starlight had the property of balance.
… Her own star’s artifact.
She gazed at the blade prepared to face the Demon Lord with blurry eyes. The star artifact that she could use only once at the cost of the remaining starlight.
‘But…’
Even using this, she felt no hope of defeating the death in front of her. This was a blade that only worked against the Demon Lord. If that was the case, there was only one option left.
… She had promised that she wouldn’t use it.
Raniel smiled bitterly.
In the end, with all options blocked, Raniel’s choice was… the same as before. Casting a glance at Kalt, who was trying again to rise with blood pouring out, Raniel made her decision.
Not the best, but the least bad choice.
Breaking the promise she made that day, Raniel returned as the Ashen Mage, not as a hero. She clutched the starlight tightly. The platinum shape of the balance slowly morphed. It was no longer a star artifact.
A balance to raise lifespan, value, and life.
The balance used by the Ashen Mage.
Seeing the return of the balance after a long time, Raniel couldn’t help but sneer inwardly. Destel’s foresight had been spot on. From the moment the operation began… Raniel had planned to weigh her lifespan on the balance if the situation went awry.
‘I can’t keep my promise.’
She should have gotten free drinks from that guy.
Clutching the balance, Raniel deliberated. She hesitated. The moment she used this, there would be no return. Now that she was a hero, the lifespan she could wager wouldn’t be… anything less than ‘all of it.’ The star had warned her about that.
If she used the balance, she couldn’t achieve her goal.
If she sacrificed her lifespan for acceleration… she might reach the Death’s Blade and confront the Demon Lord. However, she would have to abandon her wish after defeating the Demon Lord.
Crunch.
Staring at the sky, Raniel gritted her teeth.
“Damned bastard.”
To not let her use it by prohibiting her from using it on a year-by-year basis, it had been altered to require her entire lifespan… probably because it had guessed her intentions.
The star was telling Raniel something.
To die here.
Her ending cannot be tied to her own.
The star desired mutual destruction. Variables that disrupt the balance of the world. The Demon Lord, the Braver, Raniel, the Death’s Blade, all of them hoped for simultaneous mutual destruction. This was the truth that Gleria had sensed in the past.
「From the beginning, the star wished for mutual destruction.」
「It wanted us, who became too strong, and the Demon Lord, to mutually perish. To not look beyond the sky.」
Knowing this, Raniel still headed here. Hoping that she could change the outcome. But ultimately, is this how it would end? She looked at the balance placed before her and pondered.
Weighing her unfulfilled wish against the duties of a hero.
Her failure would mean the world’s ruin. If she fell here, everything would be swept away by the encroaching shadows. It was a deadlock. Eventually, the scales within Raniel began to tip.
「That is your weakness, junior.」
The Braver was right.
Raniel couldn’t turn a blind eye to the deaths of the innocent. Putting aside her own wish, Raniel bowed her head. With her head lowered, she reached out to the balance as a hero.
“Offering…”
Just as she was about to speak.
Suddenly, a plume of ash obscured Raniel’s vision. Gasping, she frowned. The ash that blocked her view. Following the swirling ash, Raniel lifted her head.
The ash that had blocked her view soared toward the sky.
The moment Raniel looked up at the soaring ash, her eyes widened.
“Raniel, is that person okay?”
“He probably isn’t.”
In the rattling carriage, Destel sighed heavily, resting his chin in his hand. He looked out the window and spoke.
“That guy, it seems he intended to use his lifespan from the start. He mentioned he had some means prepared, but he didn’t seem too sure about it.”
That guy was always brimming with confidence.
Such a fellow wouldn’t plan an operation while relying solely on uncertain measures.
“If things go wrong, he’ll burn his lifespan, that’s for sure.”
That’s how he has always been.
When cornered, he would ultimately sacrifice himself. He would burn his lifespan to achieve his goals.
“Knowing that… ”
Destel ruffled his own hair.
“The future version of me likely plotted this.”
“You came from the future too? No, wait, is everyone reincarnated? Is it just me who isn’t a reincarnator or something?”
“I’m not a reincarnator, I’m a possessor, a victim of possession.”
“That’s the same thing.”
As he surveyed the one sitting across from him, Destel smiled wryly. Memories of the past few days flooded his mind.
“Possession? Though I didn’t really plan on that.”
Destel exhaled deeply. While breathing out, he recalled the memories of the past few days with his eyes closed.
「Prove it to me.」
「If you can’t prove it, then the body is mine.」
To the future self who threatened to take his body, Destel ultimately had faced defeat. It was only natural. The battlefields they’d walked were different. The years rolled down different paths. In every way, he lagged behind his future self and faced utter defeat.
However, the future self didn’t take his body.
「Get up.」
Like he had never intended to do so, he repeatedly grasped his collar, helped him get up, and forced a rematch until Destel finally triumphed. Eventually, having obtained victory, the future self had said to him.
「One day.」
「One day is enough.」
Just one day to borrow his body.
Destel didn’t refuse that plea. Now, he understood what his future self was trying to achieve. The place his future self sought was…
“Well, if he isn’t okay, I’m sure he will be soon.”
Destel opened his eyes.
He looked at the person smiling in front of him. She was giggling quietly as she looked outside.
“It’s a pity I can’t go with you, but it seems I have my own battlefield to tend to… well, what can I do?”
Hair resembling the color of cherry blossoms.
“It’s been too long since I’ve seen Remia’s face.”
Eyes of emerald green.
“Do you really believe everything will be okay? Weren’t you worried?”
“I was worried, but what good does worrying do now?”
Sara tilted her head, as if to ask why she was asking something so obvious.
“Because that person has gone there.”
The woman who was no longer the Saint smiled.
With certainty, she laughed.
“The Hero who slew the Demon Lord, Kyle Toven.”
In that moment when Kalt was struggling to rise, gasping for air, he glanced up at the shadow cast overhead.
“………”
Kalt silently raised his head.
Looking up at the sky, he saw a wyvern flapping its wings in the air. The armor covering the wyvern bore the crest of the royal family.
… Kalt recognized that wyvern.
The wyvern cloaked in layers of acceleration spells was made for swiftly moving key personnel on the battlefield. However, due to the frenzied speed of the accelerated wyvern, there were very few instances of its usage by ordinary humans.
‘Only heroes or a select few superhumans can withstand that speed…’
If that’s the case, who could be on that wyvern?
As all superhumans were deployed on different missions, Kalt couldn’t fathom who could be on the wyvern. The moment he wondered, someone jumped down from above the wyvern.
Straight toward the ground, without hesitation.
Despite falling from quite a height, the landing was effortlessly smooth. The moment Kalt saw the face of the reinforcements who touched ground, he couldn’t help but exhale a bitter laugh.
“Ha…”
When he first saw the wyvern, even if a considerable reinforcer came, no matter how strong a superhuman arrived… Kalt thought he couldn’t seize the advantage. However, upon facing the one who alighted from the wyvern, Kalt found himself unable to suppress a bitter smile.
“Well…”
Kalt chuckled wryly.
“I suppose I’ll have to return the title of Sword Saint now.”
He’s here.
The strongest swordsman of humanity.
*
“……You?”
Raniel turned to look back.
The figure who jumped down from the wyvern. The appearance of someone who shouldn’t be here made Raniel’s eyes widen.
“How…?”
“Well, it’s a long story.”
He shrugged nonchalantly.
He tossed back his long hair lightly and approached Raniel. He came over and grabbed Raniel’s wrist, forcing it down toward the ground.
“Since the promise is broken, you’ll have to buy me drinks.”
“What? No, wait…”
Before Raniel could add anything, he laughed as he brushed past her. He moved forward.
Tap.
As he just barely managed to stand, he lightly patted Kalt’s shoulder as he walked by. Only then did Kalt let out a breath, finally collapsing onto the ground.
Tap.
Kalt and Raniel watched his back.
He no longer wore the garments of a hero, but what he symbolized remained unchanged. The fluttering cloak. The sword strapped to his waist.
A symbol of victory.
Wherever he stepped, he brought about a victory.
Tap, and.
He strode past everyone and stood right in front.
Where he headed was death.
Death’s Blade, Ganikalt, watched as the swordsman approached him with his sword lowered. While looking at him, Ganikalt asked nothing.
Are you a swordsman? That question was unnecessary.
It was also unnecessary to declare that he should prove himself.
The one approaching him now was the swordsman who had proven himself. A man who had surpassed all pride, resolve, and everything else to stand at the same level as him.
The swordsman unsheathed the sword tied at his waist.
Originally the Star Sword, it no longer shone in platinum. The broken sword, which lost its adornments symbolizing the star, appeared simple.
No longer drawing in starlight.
No longer possessing radiance.
Yet therefore, it was the sharpest sword imaginable. The swordsman raised it high, as though showcasing it to Ganikalt.
Ganikalt also lifted his own sword.
The two swordsmen displayed their swords to one another. It was a form of dueling salutation. Maximal respect shown towards a worthy opponent.
“I am Kyle Toven.”
The strongest swordsman of humanity.
The swordsman who reached the level of Yeocheon spoke his name. Neither the title of Hero nor the title of the strongest swordsman had any need here. Kyle merely spoke his name.
“Ganikalt van Galatrick.”
As Kyle drew his sword from its sheath, he declared.
“Let’s settle this duel.”
There was no need for a lengthy conversation.
Kyle revealed his name, and he spoke the name of the one he would aim his sword at. Not Death’s Blade, but Ganikalt van Galatrick. At the calling of that name, Ganikalt’s gaze wavered, even if just for a moment.
When the shaken gaze settled.
For the first time.
For the very first time, Ganikalt, gripping his sword, burst into a smile. As if overwhelmed with joy, he looked at the swordsman who had just called his name.
A weaker man. A worthless rookie.
At first, he was a frightened man who had dropped his sword. A worthless weakling who barely survived with the help of his mentor and companions.
The second time, he was a Hero who faced him without dropping his sword. A Hero who disregarded his duties and seized time by parrying his blade repeatedly.
And the third time.
「I am Kyle Toven.」
「Draw your sword, Ganikalt.」
Not as a Hero, but as a swordsman, he charged at him, sword drawn, with dignity. In that duel, that man once scarred his body. He stood on the heights he had previously reached.
So what about now?
What is it like at this fourth encounter?
That man, Kyle Toven, had achieved feats identical to his own. He was his junior, a figure who walked the same path, and furthermore, a worthy rival. The worthless coward had ultimately stood at the same position as him.
Having grown and grown.
Advancing and advancing finally.
Standing toe to toe with him and aiming a blade at him… Ganikalt grasped the sword he raised tightly. That swordsman was indeed the rival that death had long desired.
“I accept.”
Wielding his grasped sword, he cleared the dust that lay between him and Kyle as Ganikalt spoke.
“Show me your all.”
Your utmost.
You were a Hero.
A superhuman.
The swordsman who slain the Demon Lord, the swordsman who reached the pinnacle.
Within the long history of humanity, only two swordsmen reached the apex. Two swordsmen standing at the same level faced each other beneath the ever-parted sky.
No longer was there any need for conversation.
They charged towards each other. At the same speed, with the same stride, in the same stance, at the same moment in time, the two blades intertwined as if they were one.
