Ch.95Transformation (3)

In the darkness, the constellation shone.

But the constellation was not hanging in the vast night sky. It merely dangled from the sword tip of a swordsman standing with feet on the ground, emitting light. The constellation shining from the tip of a human’s sword was serene yet brilliant.

Najin, the Sword Seeker.

Having reached the realm of Sword Seeker, Najin raised his sword. The constellation moved along the sword tip, and where that tip stopped, Najin’s opponent stood.

“…Ha.”

Looking at the sword tip pointed at him, Jerold burst into laughter. Truly, what an exceptional opponent. The uneasiness he had felt moments ago had completely vanished. From the moment this man had reached the realm of Sword Seeker, distinctions between weak and strong became meaningless.

“Klaus.”

Jerold opened his mouth.

He exhaled a long breath.

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’ll be taking the first strike. This is something I cannot yield.”

“How disappointing. I was about to say the same thing.”

Since you’ve taken the initiative, I have no choice.

Saying this, Klaus took a step back, while Jerold instead stepped forward. It was as if they were taking turns to challenge each other. This effectively negated their numerical advantage, but…

In this case, that wasn’t entirely true.

A Sword Seeker-level warrior is like a walking army. One person can accomplish the work of dozens, even hundreds—not an inaccurate comparison. And naturally, movements of such powerful individuals come with constraints.

Sword Seekers swing their blades to split giant trees, slash through entire areas, and sweep everything around them with each step they take.

Without prior coordination, without having stood together on battlefields for years… they could easily interfere with each other. If they charged simultaneously, it was obvious they would be caught in each other’s sword energy and aura.

That’s why they had been exercising restraint.

Both Klaus and Jerold were the same.

If they went all out and clashed with everything they had, their allies would be caught in the crossfire. They would only hinder each other, and their numerical advantage would disappear.

‘But now that it’s come to this.’

The numerical advantage is meaningless.

Half-hearted attacks would only result in destruction. The battle had already dragged on, and what would decide the outcome would ultimately be a sufficiently powerful single strike…

“No, that’s not it.”

Jerold shook his head.

No. If they attacked cooperatively, they could certainly do it. By properly distributing their power and surrounding him, perhaps they could gain a slight advantage.

But he didn’t want to do that.

A swordsman who had completed his transformation. The man who had bloomed constellations at his sword tip had clearly stated: this was an honorable duel. Although Jerold no longer had the right to speak of honor or the right to hold pride…

‘Still, for the final strike at least.’

For the final exchange at least.

He wanted to exchange a strike worthy of the honorable duel this man had declared. Even if it cost him his life in the process, that was what he wanted.

Both Jerold and Klaus thought the same.

It was foolish. Foolish, but.

By Najin’s declaration, this had become not an ambush, not a sneak attack, not a war, but simply a duel. Shouldn’t they honor that? Wasn’t that the duty they should uphold as men who were once knights?

Jerold took a large step forward.

He drew out a sword energy more ferocious than ever before.

Right foot firmly planted on the ground. Left foot supporting at an angle. Breath gathered. The stance he completed was for unleashing his proud Shattering Sword. A swordsmanship that had shattered countless demons and demon contractors.

Although the swordsman before him was not a demon.

Neither evil nor wicked, but still.

An opponent he had to face with all his might.

No words were necessary. Jerold charged forward, kicking off the ground. With each step he took, the earth shook with a “thud, boom.” Like a bull charging, trees split and fragments scattered wherever he stepped.

Shattering.

Smashing everything in his path, Jerold charged toward Najin. And Najin waited for Jerold with his sword lowered. As if he would neither retreat nor evade. As if saying, come at me with everything you have.

A smile escaped from Jerold’s lips.

What a proud swordsman! Even now, he refuses to back down! He’s declaring that he’ll receive a full-power strike head-on! Jerold felt grateful to this swordsman who retained a purity that had gone extinct in this era.

And then, collision.

As Jerold took his final step, the ground split with a crack. He swung his greatsword with the full weight of his charge behind it. The imagery in his sword energy was that of a bull charging forward, shattering everything in its path.

Crack, boom, rumble…

Even though the sword hadn’t completed its full arc, trees in the area split apart. Dust rose from the ground pressure, and the air trembled. Najin’s clothes fluttered in the pressure wave as he faced it all head-on. His skin split and blood burst forth.

But Najin did not retreat.

He swung his sword toward Jerold’s incoming greatsword. The collision of greatsword and longsword. Normally, the greatsword should crush the longsword and pulverize Najin who held it. But common sense doesn’t apply in battles between Sword Seekers.

The moment the swords collided, a thunderous sound erupted.

Sword energies tore at each other.

The constellation wrapped around Najin’s sword fully received Jerold’s sword energy, not yielding an inch. No, it was pushing back. The flickering constellation scattered a brilliant white light with a “tididik!”

A moment of silence. A moment of deadlock.

It felt like dozens of seconds, but to a third party, it was barely a second. Then, the balance broke. Najin gritted his teeth. Straightening his knees that had almost buckled under the weight, he swung his sword with all his might.

Then, a ripping sound.

Najin’s sword, which had been stopped, moved forward. The advancing sword cut through the sword energy, cut through the greatsword, and bisected the technique Jerold had unleashed. First the sword swung, then the constellation bloomed in its wake.

Light exploding along the sword’s trajectory.

That light was a collection of sword energy. Looking at the constellation flickering before his eyes, Jerold let out a hollow laugh. It was a perfect strike and his defeat. Immediately after, the repulsive force created by the sword energy struck Jerold’s body.

KWAAAAAAANG!

Despite his powerful steps that had split the ground, Jerold’s feet lifted into the air. Caught in the repulsive force of the sword energy, Jerold was flung away. After flying for quite a distance, Jerold finally stopped after smashing through several large trees.

Spitting blood, Jerold collapsed.

Najin took a long breath. The constellation still wrapped around his sword had not lost its light. Because there was still one opponent left to defeat. Raising his head, Najin looked ahead. There stood his final adversary.

Klaus Aten.

The fifth wing of the Kingdom of Prolea.

The last Blue Wing Cavalryman stood before Najin.

2.

“Well now, he wasn’t the type to fly away so cleanly.”

Klaus smiled bitterly.

He pulled out the spear he had stuck in the ground. In this situation, Klaus felt surprised. Hadn’t that young man just experienced his transformation?

Transformation, the act of breaking out of a chrysalis.

Many people needed time to adapt after transformation, unable to keep up with the reconstructed flow of sword energy and mana. Klaus was no exception. But what about this swordsman before him?

‘As if he’s been a Sword Seeker for years, he handles sword energy so naturally.’

How absurd this was. The Order had informed him that this young man was clearly 18 years old. It was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh. An unprecedented genius—even such words couldn’t express what this young man possessed.

“Perhaps this is an honor.”

Klaus exhaled.

A young man who would reach the pinnacle before long. Receiving the sword of such a person could be considered an honor. Despite the situation, Klaus found himself smiling.

Duel, what a word that makes the heart burn with passion.

Now that the situation had come to a one-on-one confrontation, Klaus smiled. If the end of his life, stained with filth, was to be such a duel, he would gladly accept it. Whether he won or lost this fight, Klaus intended to take his own life.

Because he believed a knight who had lost both honor and pride should not continue to breathe. Because the end of a Blue Wing Cavalryman should conclude with suicide, not execution.

Since that day four years ago when he lost all his comrades, Klaus Aten was as good as dead. He had merely postponed his death indefinitely, believing it should come after restoring his comrades’ honor.

And that time had come.

The time had come to put an end to the life of a dead man who couldn’t die. Gloriously, the one to mark that end was a proud swordsman. An opponent more than worthy of clashing with all his might. Klaus truly understood why Jerold had burst into laughter.

How could one not laugh?

How could one not rejoice?

“Najin.”

“Klaus Aten.”

They called each other’s names.

That was enough. Klaus raised his spear and lowered his stance. His center of gravity was shifted forward, as if he would pounce on Najin at any moment.

“I’m coming.”

“Come.”

An aura rose over Klaus’s body. The swirling aura wrapped around the spear tip. Tree branches that touched the swirling aura disintegrated without a trace.

Constellations gathered over Najin’s sword. The stretched-out constellation wrapped around the longsword. The longsword enveloped by the flickering constellation evoked the image of a sword of stars.

Both Klaus and Najin took their respective stances.

Then, without anyone going first, they both rushed toward each other.

3.

Klaus Aten runs.

He has no flag. Because he can no longer inscribe the glory that proves he is the fifth wing of the kingdom.

He has no horse. Because on that day when his comrades were buried in the mud, his beloved steed also met its death.

He has no comrades either. Because the Blue Wing Cavalry was annihilated. Because they met a death without honor or pride.

Nevertheless, Klaus Aten runs.

It’s fine without a flag. Because the memory of running with his comrades is engraved in his mind. It’s alright without a warhorse. Because he can kick the ground with his two legs. It’s okay without comrades. Still, Klaus Aten was a Blue Wing Cavalryman.

A mere defeated commander.

A knight who had lost both honor and pride.

Klaus Aten runs.

He sprinted because he desired honor for his comrades. Even with his eyes open, he saw his mental image. Cavalrymen galloping across the vast plains. Ah, they are charging through the battlefield with the emblem of blue wings.

He stands at the forefront.

It’s as if he can hear the sound of hooves from behind. The resounding roars of his comrades echo. Klaus increased his speed further. If they were the valiant Blue Wing Cavalry, his comrades would surely follow him. So he ran with all his might.

Acceleration, and more acceleration.

Klaus Aten looked at the enemy he had to pierce. He saw the proud swordsman. That man too was running toward him. From the front, steadfastly, honestly, intending to shatter his spear.

Come on. By all means.

He increased his speed even more. The rapidly passing scenery disappeared from Klaus’s view. His eyes looked only at Najin. He was only looking at the sword that man was about to swing. That’s why Klaus noticed.

The technique Najin was about to demonstrate.

Klaus knew that technique.

Wasn’t it the technique of the Knights of Atanga, the knight among knights? Come to think of it, didn’t that young man introduce himself as the descendant of a Knight of Atanga? I see. Is it the sword of Atanga that will determine the end of someone who has lost both honor and pride? Yes, a fitting end for me.

But soon after, Klaus widened his eyes.

No, that wasn’t it.

The sword of Atanga that strikes down knights doesn’t charge like that. It doesn’t swing the sword like that. That is not a sword for execution.

It means it acknowledges you as a worthy opponent.

A sword that implies you are worth destroying with all one’s might. Realizing this, Klaus burst into laughter.

Then I shall respond to that expectation.

The fifth wing of the kingdom, the commander and vanguard of the Blue Wing Cavalry, Klaus Aten thrust his spear. The Knight of Atanga, descendant of Ivan, Najin swung his sword.

In the moment when spear and sword crossed, nothing else interfered with this duel. Background, affiliation, the Order—all became utterly meaningless. Just one cavalryman and one swordsman unleashed their full-power strikes at each other.

To determine the outcome of the duel.

To seize victory.