Chapter 87
I Pulled Out the Excalibur
Knight of Atanga, Argo.
In the heart of the Empireâs capital, Argoâs face lit up with joy upon encountering a familiar face. The young man known by the alias Ivan. Though they had promised to meet again after becoming knights, chance encounters were beyond their control.
âGood to see you, nameless young man.â
âPleased to meet you, Sir Argo.â
Argo was aware of the alias Najin, but since he hadnât heard it from Najin himself, he refrained from using the name Ivan. Instead, he simply greeted the young man with a cheerful smile, calling him a nameless youth.
âIâve heard quite a bit about you. Youâve been causing quite a stir, havenât you? I heard you even had a hand in something with Sir Griffin.â
âIt just turned out that way.â
âJust turned out that way, huh? Sounds like you.â
Argo laughed heartily.
âWhat brings you to the capital of the Empire?â
âI accompanied a friend who had business here, partly as a guard and partly for sightseeing.â
âSightseeing, huh? But why a forge? Thereâs much more to enjoy in Camelot.â
âWell, about thatâ¦â
Najin gave a bitter smile.
âI was drawn by the sound of hammering metal and found myself in front of this forge.â
âTrue, the sound of the forgeâs owner working the metal is quite lively.â
Argo nodded vigorously.
Then he gestured to a girl sitting in front of the forge. The girl, who had risen from her seat, now stood beside Argo.
âThis is my squire, Flansh.â
Argo said, ruffling Flanshâs hair.
âI stopped by the forge to have a sword made for this child. Now that I can engrave the Atanga crest, I thought I should gift her with at least one sword.â
Najin looked at Flansh with a brief expression of admiration.
The emblem of crossed swords and a shield engraved on the girlâs shoulder pauldron was a stylish design and one that Ivan held dear.
Amidst their conversation, a piercing gaze was felt, and upon slightly turning his head, Najin saw Flanshâs eyes staring intently at him. While Najin felt puzzled, Argo gave a bitter smile.
âHa, my squire seems quite interested in you. She always squints her eyes whenever she hears about you.â
âIs that so?â
âIndeed. On that day, pursuing the Demon Knight was her first mission. Having met you then, itâs no surprise you left a strong impression.â
Flansh still gazed intensely at Najin. Argo squinted his eyes and gently tapped Flanshâs shoulder.
âApologize, Flansh.â
âIâm sorry.â
âNot to me, to him.â
âIâm sorry.â
Flansh bowed her head towards Najin, and amidst this, Argo stroked his chin. His squire showing keen interest in Najin and their chance meeting made Argo ponder before he spoke up.
âIf itâs alright with you, could you perhaps take a look at this childâs sword?â
***
Damanoâs Forge.
This forge was under exclusive contract with the Knights of Atanga, and naturally, there was a space behind the forge suitable for testing swords. Upon recognizing Argo, the blacksmith gladly opened the way to the back.
Arriving at the sparring ground.
Argoâs squire, Flansh, warmed up while facing her opponent. A man standing across from her, loosening his shoulders, was someone she had first encountered during the Demon Knight Verheigen subjugation battle, and since that day, he had not left Flanshâs mind.
At first glance, the man appeared to be her age.
However, Flansh knew that this man had single-handedly subdued Verheigen. Verheigen was a feared Sword Seeker-level adversary, yet how? Flansh couldnât comprehend this.
ãA genius.ã
ãHe could surpass even Sword Saint Karan, possibly breaking his records. A once-in-a-lifetime genius.ã
ãAt the tender age of seventeen, heâs nearing the realm of a Sword Expert. It wonât be long before he reaches the Expert level.ã
The stories she had heard.
The world called her a genius, and by objective standards, Flansh was indeed a genius. There was no one in her age group who could match her, and she had a natural talent for wielding a sword.
Flansh was aware of her own genius and the compulsion to surpass everyone else her age.
To her, Najin was an anomaly. Someone around her age, yet far surpassing her own realm. Flansh was troubled by Najin.
âKnight of Atanga, Argoâs squire, Flansh.â
Flansh pointed her sword at Najin.
âI ask for your guidance.â
The conditions of the duel were simple.
A pure sword fight, with neither mana nor sword aura involved. In such a rule, Flansh was confident. She wouldnât lose.
Pure swordsmanship. The realm of technique.
That was her domain. Flansh had been swinging a sword since she could walk, a practice spanning 12 years. She didnât rest on her talents and had always practiced her swordsmanship more diligently than anyone.
âI donât underestimate you, but.â
Flansh was certain she wouldnât be outmatched in the realm of pure swordsmanship. She had faced the swords of numerous formidable opponents, mastered various sword techniques, and even managed draws against Sword Seekers under such rules.
Thud.
Thus, with confidence she wouldnât at least lose, Flansh took a step forward. She dashed forward, closing the distance and swung her sword. The sword sliced through the air with a clean trajectory.
And Najin.
ââ¦â¦â
He watched Flanshâs sword trajectory with an expressionless face and then casually swung his sword. Thud, and then clang. Flanshâs eyebrows furrowed as her sword was easily deflected, but she calmly continued her sword strikes.
The sword moved smoothly, drawing sleek trajectories. Yet, the result was much the same.
Thud, and clangâ¦â¦
The process repeated several times. Throughout, Najin barely swung his sword, only lightly flicking it aside or using a snap of his wrist.
Ching!
When a swift thrust, using the bodyâs elasticity, was also parried, Flanshâs eyes wavered. She knew her opponent was stronger, but this was uncanny.
âHow?â
A strange sense of dissonance. Flansh suddenly looked into Najinâs eyes and found the answer. As she swung her sword, Najinâs eyes were precisely following the tip of her blade.
Reading the trajectory of the sword and interrupting the strike before its force peaked. Realizing this, Flansh felt a chill run down her spine.
âSomewhereâ¦â¦â
She had experienced a similar situation before.
It wasnât difficult to recall when it had been. About 2 years ago. To Flansh, who was making a name for herself as an unparalleled genius, a swordsman had suddenly appeared.
A swordsman who had single-handedly invaded the Knights of Atanga.
Brushing aside the swords of the tense knights with his bare hands, he approached her and requested a duel. That swordsman, too, had swung his sword just like the man before her.
Not too fast, nor too slow, just the right speed.
A sword swung in sync with Flanshâs pace.
But her strikes were deflected all too easily.
The exact same situation as back then made Flansh grind her teeth. Thatâs why the memory had resurfaced.
ãThis is disappointing.ã
That day, the swordsman had looked at her with cold eyes and said that.
ãOrdinary. No different.ã
ãMerely faster than others.ã
The swordsman, who had left murmuring in disappointment, was later revealed to be Sword Saint Karan. That incident had left a deep wound on Flanshâs pride. And now, a similar event was repeating.
With a swordsman of a similar age.
Flansh couldnât accept that fact. She boldly charged at Najin. The speed of her sword increased, and she varied the trajectory of her strikes. The prowess she demonstrated was not befitting of someone nearly a Sword Expert.
Najin narrowed his eyes.
Then, whoosh.
For the first time, he took a step forward and assumed a stance.
***
âWhatâs so interesting that youâre watching?â
âIâm observing the duel.â
The owner of Damanoâs Forge.
The master blacksmith, Damano, sat on the fence of the forge, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Flick, he lit his cigarette and took a deep breath.
Then, whoosh.
He exhaled a long stream of smoke, stretching his gaze. The sound of clashing swords echoed loudly from where Argo was watching.
âOne of them is Flansh⦠Whoâs the other?â
âA young man making a name for himself in the adventurerâs city, a key figure in the Demon Knight subjugation battle.â
âAh, that Ivan fellow?â
Damano squinted as he watched the duel.
âHuh.â
He let out a long sigh.
âIf Iâm not seeing things, Flansh seems to be on the losing end? Without using mana or sword aura.â
âSeems so to me as well.â
âIsnât she a child who wouldnât fall behind even the mid-rank priests of the Order of the Sword in pure swordsmanship?â
âIndeed. Sheâs extremely talented and hardworking.â
No one denied that Flansh was a genius. The world buzzed about her talent being comparable to that of a Sword Saint.
Butâ¦â¦
Damano, his cigarette extinguished, focused on the duel between Flansh and Najin.
âThen whatâs up with that young man?â
âI wonder about that too.â
No matter how intricate Flanshâs sword trajectories were, they couldnât reach Najin. He cut through, blocked, and deflected her strikes before they were fully formed. Such a feat could be dismissed as chance once or twiceâ¦â¦
Clang!
But when it repeats over a dozen times, itâs hard to call it mere coincidence. To achieve this, one would need to understand exactly what sword techniques Flansh had learned and mastered, an almost impossible feat.
Flansh had mastered nearly dozens of sword techniques.
Empireâs swordsmanship, Atangaâs sword, the Order of the Swordâs techniques, the Imperial Hero Aigarâs Guardian Swordâ¦â¦ It was impossible to fully comprehend all these techniques. Especially since Aigarâs Guardian Sword was a technique exclusively passed down to Flansh.
âThen.â
Is he mimicking the Sword Saint?
Damano, having never crossed swords with the Sword Saint, couldnât know, but Argo did. It was something the Sword Saint often did.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
âTsk.â
Damano clicked his tongue as he continued to watch the duel.
âFlansh will take this quite hard.â
âShe needs it.â
âNeeds it?â
âStimulation, the frustration of defeat. Itâs good nourishment, isnât it? Itâs necessary for progressing forward.â
Argo smiled contentedly.
For his squire, who had been keenly aware of this young man, this would be a good opportunity. Especially for Flansh, who could become complacent in her environment, this duel would serve as a good vent.
Thatâs when it happened.
Flansh assumed a stance. The moment Argo saw it, he frowned. It was a stance for executing Atangaâs swordsmanship. In her competitive zeal, she was about to resort to techniques she shouldnât.
âThis needs to be stopped.â
Just as Argo was about to step in to halt the duel, Najin moved first. Before Flansh could execute Atangaâs swordsmanship, Najinâs sword traced a clean trajectory and struck Flanshâs sword.
Straightforward, and determinedly direct.
A strike that shattered the opponentâs stance.
It was a technique that required plain yet precise control of power, and Najin executed it flawlessly. The moment their swords clashed, Flanshâs stance crumbledâ¦â¦
Clang!
âUghâ¦!â
Eventually, Flanshâs arm was flung upwards, and she lost grip of her longsword. The sword she dropped clanged as it hit the ground.
ââ¦â¦â
With her lips tightly pressed, Flansh spoke.
âI concede defeat.â
As she acknowledged her defeat, Argo stood still, eyes wide open. After a moment, he burst into laughter.
âTo think Iâd see this again.â
The swordsmanship Najin had just displayed.
A strike that demolished the opponentâs stance and pressed down. Those distinctive moves and footwork were also in Argoâs memory. They were the same techniques that had defeated him several times when he was a squire.
The technique Najin had used as if by habit, was undoubtedly tinged with Ivanâs remnants.
Facing those remnants, Argo laughed pleasantly. He had never imagined he would see his old comradeâs techniques again.
***
âWell done. This is my gift to you.â
Argo handed Najin a small chest, and upon opening it, a pair of leather gauntlets lay inside. The leather was well-crafted, indicating they were high-quality.
âGauntlets are as important to a knight as swords and armor. Do you know why?â
When Najin shook his head, Argo grinned and mimed throwing his glove.
âItâs traditional to throw your glove before a duel. The louder the sound it makes when you slap it down, the better the atmosphere.â
Najin chuckled.
âI gratefully accept.â
âGood. And, thank you for crossing swords with this child. It was a big help.â
Flansh bowed her head to Najin. There was something different in Flanshâs gaze, both before and after their duel. Najin smiled at Flansh.
âYou are impressive. Your sword is fierce. I look forward to clashing sword auras next time.â
At Najinâs words, Flanshâs eyes widened.
Seemingly surprised, she fumbled with her lips before whispering in a barely audible voice.
âTh-Thank youâ¦â
As Najin was about to leave, receiving their farewells, he touched his neck. He had felt a gaze on him for a while.
âA subtle gaze.â
He could sense the gaze, but couldnât pinpoint its origin. Even as he looked around, he found nothing. As Najinâs gaze settled on a distant tower, one of the five surrounding the imperial palace, he felt as if the gaze might have originated there. After staring at the tower for a while, Najin shook his head. It must be his imagination. He had been overly sensitive latelyâ¦â¦
***
The old man stroked his white beard.
His hair was white from the ravages of time.
His skin was wrinkled, but age hadnât bent his back or waist. The old man slowly rose from his chair.
He looked towards a certain direction for a while.
For there, he could hear the resonance of swords.
The clash of swords, resonating even from afar. Sword Song, the only sound that could stir the old manâs soul.
âBerlot.â
âYes, sir.â
âGrey hair. Adventurerâs attire. Sunset-hued eyes. Investigate the young man who visited the city today.â
âYes, understood.â
The Empireâs First Pillar.
The Empireâs foremost champion.
The apex of humanity bearing the Seven Stars.
âInteresting.â
Gerd of the Empire smiled. Humming the pleasant Sword Song that had just caressed his ears, he watched the young swordsman who had come to the Empire for a while.