Ch.177Chapter 177: Just Swinging

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Before my regression, when I lived a wretched, miserable life.

I often performed sword dances.

After being judged to have a wretched body incapable of realizing my dream of making a name with the sword.

As my sword skills, which had been assessed as moderately talented, naturally deteriorated.

I would go somewhere no one could see me and perform sword dances to soothe the anguish of my trampled dreams.

Now that I think about it, I remember.

Right before my regression, just before being pierced by the holy sword Shizu wielded.

Swinging my sword alone in the great hall of the Obsidian Palace was also a kind of sword dance.

Though it consisted entirely of pathetic movements since my body wouldn’t cooperate, having repeatedly harmed myself with the intention of dying.

I couldn’t have imagined it then.

At the end of my life, after putting everything in order.

Forcing my unresponsive body to move.

I swung that sword with all my unfulfilled desires, sneering at the inadequacy of my dance.

And simultaneously regretting that if my body had been healthy, I might have performed better.

How could I have ever thought an opportunity like this would come?

But perhaps this is what makes life interesting.

After experiencing the miracle of turning back time.

I wanted to perform a sword dance to prove it, but I couldn’t even find the time.

And so time passed, bringing me to this moment.

As I walk toward the center of the training ground, all sorts of thoughts surface in my mind.

Is there a difference between the sword dances I performed to soothe my anguish in my wretched life.

And the sword dance I’m about to perform now?

If there is a difference, what kind of difference would it be?

It was a brief walk, but my thoughts were intense.

“I’ll need to work up a sweat dancing to reach a conclusion.”

Such was the nature of my thoughts that this self-talk came naturally as I continued walking.

And so, as time passed.

Despite deliberately slowing my pace.

I arrived at my destination, the center of the training ground.

Coincidentally, just as I reached the center.

The light of the full moon in the night sky shone directly upon me.

It reminded me of stage lighting that draws attention to the lead actor in an elaborate theatrical production.

Though the sky was night, my surroundings were as bright as midday.

Compared to my wretched past life before regression, when I danced like a madman even in treacherous lands where clouds obscured stars and moon, making it impossible to see a step ahead.

My current situation was far better.

I raised my head to look at the night sky.

The large, bright full moon that made my surroundings feel like daytime came into view.

Unlike the sun, which inevitably causes glare when looked at directly.

The full moon’s light did not dazzle the eyes.

Suddenly, I recalled a verse from a popular song sung by skilled minstrels comparing the sun and moon.

“Oh! If the morning sun is what warms your body,

The moon hanging in the night sky is what warms your heart.

The beautiful flowers that bloom under the moonlight grow absorbing the moonlight.

The name of that flower, too beautiful to believe it blooms from a cactus covered in thorns, is…”

What was the name of the flower again?

“My memory fails me when I need it.”

Hehe.

After dismissing these idle thoughts with a light laugh.

Hoooo!!

I took a deep breath to infuse tension into my body that had been steeped in sentimentality.

“Let’s begin.”

This is the perfect opportunity to prove the question that briefly blossomed in my mind just before my second death.

“The sword dance, that is.”

With these words, I raised the sword in my right hand high.

The moonlight that made the night sky what it was.

While paradoxically making it unlike a night sky.

Illuminated me brightly as I took my first step to perform the sword dance.

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I was greedy.

Believing in my moderately innate talent for handling swords.

To nurture that talent, I swung my sword endlessly, even sacrificing sleep.

With each swing of my sword, I engraved something within myself.

And tried to contain more.

At first, it was a dream.

Imagining myself without this wretched body.

Believing, if only for that moment, in the brilliant future such a self could achieve.

Continuing this fleeting dance.

And when the dance ended, weakly ruminating on the dream that ended with it.

It turned into a nightmare.

And I only sought to contain something stronger to shake off that nightmare.

At that time, I believed it was the only way and the only truth.

But the miracle that came after facing death twice.

Suggested that I should change somewhat.

“I’ll show you.”

Not to contain everything, but.

“With each swing, I will empty myself.”

Of everything.

My dreams, my greed, and all those feelings I tried to contain.

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If I’ve decided to perform a sword dance, then let me dance.

With this resolve, I continued my steps erratically after reaching the center of the training ground.

With the dragon sword resting on my left shoulder, which I had held high toward the sky.

This was the footwork I took before dancing, before swinging.

Slowly, very slowly.

So slowly that the stars and moon watching from above might wonder what I was doing.

Very slowly indeed.

And just when their curiosity might peak.

I swung the dragon sword horizontally with a light motion.

With my right hand gripping the hilt, completely relaxed.

Woong-!!

A refreshing sound of air being cut came from the blade of the dragon sword.

Among all the first movements of sword dances I had ever performed.

It was undoubtedly the most crisp and clean strike.

This was the beginning.

The beginning of a chaotic dance of the sword.

I swing here and there.

Horizontally and vertically.

Sometimes from top to bottom.

Other times from bottom to top.

Not bound by any formal style or discipline.

Just following where my heart leads.

Where my body commands.

Swinging without any resistance.

It was an unrestrained spectacle that I could never have imagined when dancing with the compulsion to contain something.

“Haha…”

Yet the result of these seemingly random movements was so satisfying that a laugh escaped my lips.

Despite being seemingly chaotic.

The flow of my sword was superior to any sword path I had ever created in my previous dances.

It was as natural and continuous as flowing water.

Who would have thought such beauty could emerge from a sword swung with the intention of emptying rather than containing?

I paused the dance briefly.

“Hoo…”

I regulated my breathing with a light sigh.

My right hand still held the dragon sword gently, without applying force.

Swinging like this reminds me of old thoughts.

“Ha… I think I understand now.”

Understand what, you ask?

It’s about something fundamental I learned when I first started learning the sword.

When I first learned from my father’s guidance.

How heavy that first sword felt in my hands.

Eager just to hold a sword.

How tightly I gripped the handle to overcome its weight.

I gripped it so tightly, afraid it might slip from my hand.

And when I tried to cut a straw bundle with that tightly gripped sword.

The straw bundle didn’t get cut by the blade but made a dull sound as if hit by a blunt object, rejecting my sword.

Stubborn, I kept swinging until my young hands swelled, and that’s when my father said:

-How does the weight of that sword feel to you?

I answered:

“It’s heavy.”

Then my father smiled gently and asked again:

-Do you know why it’s so heavy?

Young as I was, I clearly answered:

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know, even now thinking about it, I’m sometimes uncertain.

Let alone back then when everything was so unfamiliar.

What need is there to say more?

I felt a faint smile forming on my lips as I murmured.

And my father, whose smile deepened as he looked at my younger self, said:

-You don’t need to find the answer right away, but as you continue to swing the sword, you’ll naturally come to understand.

I clearly remember those words too.

Honestly, as I said before, I still don’t fully understand their meaning.

I was about to fall into self-deprecation, thinking this might be why I was called dull-witted and lived an unremarkable life before my regression.

But unlike before, when I endlessly swung my sword seeking answers while trying to contain everything.

The earlier sword dance, performed while emptying even the desire to contain, showed me a glimpse of understanding.

“But now that I think about it, Father, I think I understand what you were trying to say.”

I murmured softly as I gripped the dragon sword that I had lowered, applying force.

Then I swung it in an upward diagonal motion.

The same motion I used when cutting the straw bundle that seemed so large and solid to my young self.

Since I was shorter then, this can be considered the same movement.

Unlike when I continued the erratic sword dance for perfect recreation.

Just like in my childhood.

I applied full force to my hand gripping the sword.

As expected, the result wasn’t satisfying.

The pleasant sound of the blade cutting through the night air was completely absent.

Only a dullness, like swinging a blunt object, was transmitted to my fingertips.

My right arm, which hadn’t felt fatigue even during the erratic movements, now felt somewhat tired, unlike during the exchange of sword strikes.

“Heh, indeed…”

A soft laugh escaped my lips as my body felt the result of the intended movement.

“Swinging like this is truly tiring.”

As my mouth softly murmured this expected outcome.

I raised the lowered sword above my head.

“But nowadays, I swing like this.”

I murmured softly as I relaxed my grip on the sword.

Unlike then, when I gripped the sword tightly due to lack of strength.

Despite being full of strength and determination now.

I held it much more lightly than any other time I had swung a sword, just like during the dance.

And I swung.

The direction was the same, diagonal.

The result…

Woong-!!

The most crisp sound of air being cut that I had heard all day reached my ears.

And as the sword path naturally touched the marble floor below.

Screech!!

A sharp cutting sound was heard.

A sword mark appeared on the floor.

The diagonal mark started from the center of the training ground where I stood.

And continued to the edge of the training ground.

I hadn’t expected such a grand result.

But because the outcome exceeded my imagination.

“…Oh.”

Only a short exclamation escaped my lips.

At the sight of that sword mark.

I found an answer to my father’s question from my childhood.

“I see, I see. The weight of the sword isn’t something for me to overcome, but a weight meant to help me.”

I prepared to swing the sword again.

“With this weight, it allows me to achieve what I want to cut with minimal movement.”

I continued to murmur softly.

“I just… guide it!”

This time, I swung a horizontal cut toward the sky, just like when I first came to this training ground.

I’m not sure if it was an illusion.

But the glow of the dragon sword, without any fighting spirit imbued, seemed to shine brighter than ever before.

Woong-!!

An amazingly clean sound of air being cut reached my ears again.

The sword path, swung without any fighting spirit, reached the moon hanging in the sky.

Needless to say, the moon wasn’t cut or anything like that.

“…Perhaps cutting the moon is too much.”

After this soft murmur, I picked up the scabbard from the ground.

I sheathed the dragon sword and fastened it to my waist.

“It’s light, it’s become lighter.”

After sweating through the sword dance.

After emptying what I had tried to contain.

My body and heart feel much lighter.