Chapter 40 : Millennium Height (14)

The scarred man’s sword was extremely fierce.

It was rough and felt, at a glance, like it had no predetermined path.

But it was powerful and flexible.

Clang!

Sparks flew as the scarred man’s sword collided with Haze’s.

Haze subtly redirected the force behind his sword to guide the scarred man’s trajectory, then spun his blade in an arc, aiming for the man’s neck.

It was like a well-rehearsed theatrical movement, but the scarred man, as if he had experienced such things countless times, naturally blocked the attack with a cross guard.

Immediately after, a second sword that had been circling in the air shot toward the scarred man’s forehead.

Clang!

Blocking the second sword while pulling his own back, the scarred man grinned ear to ear.

“Now that’s something fun you’re doing.”

The scarred man planted his feet firmly and lowered his stance.

Then, twisting his waist, he swung his sword with all his strength.

Haze narrowly dodged by stepping back half a pace and calmly gathered his energy into a single point.

Slash!

Haze’s sword grazed the scarred man’s shoulder, but the sensation was shallow — it had only skimmed his clothes.

The scarred man lit up as he struck down the second incoming sword.

Red light gleamed in his eyes, and his sword split into two.

Two blades flying in from different angles — both had substance.

Magic?

No, this wasn’t magic.

It was swordsmanship.

Who’s the one doing something fun now?

Haze gripped his sword tightly and stepped forward with his left foot.

Dragomir-style Two-Handed Swordsmanship, Form One — Green Dragon’s Fang.

A sharp current formed at the tip of the sword and pierced through the scarred man’s weapon.

Staggering back from the impact, the scarred man paused, deep in thought, then flicked his finger at Haze.

“That’s Dragomir-style, isn’t it? You’re that guy, aren’t you? The luckiest bastard alive?”

“The luckiest bastard alive.”

That was the nickname of Haze — the disciple of the previous Duke and strongest swordsman in the Empire, Balion Dragomir.

As the name suggests, it wasn’t a compliment.

It was a mocking nickname implying someone with no talent who got lucky and became a disciple.

Haze steadied his stance and muttered,

“Funny. I’ve never seen a single skilled guy use that line in front of me and walk away.”

“Judging by how good you are at gauging distance, I guess the Empire’s best swordsman didn’t just take in anyone. But still—”

Boom.

The scarred man stomped hard and smirked as he continued,

“Your swordsmanship is pretty lackluster. Were you too distracted by other tricks?”

Boom—!

Haze easily blocked the scarred man’s powerful upward strike.

But it didn’t stop there — a flurry of sword attacks followed.

Left, right, below, above — attacks rained down from every direction, and Haze spun his sword once.

Dragomir-style Two-Handed Swordsmanship, Form Two — Green Dragon Soars.

A smooth current traced a circle, deflecting every blow.

“That’s what I mean by sloppy!”

But the scarred man didn’t stop — he pierced through the center of the circle with great force.

The barrier of wind shattered, and Haze barely blocked the thrust with the flat of his sword.

His hands trembled.

From the start, Haze had felt the scarred man’s swordsmanship was unusual.

It was wildly instinctive yet disciplined — the power of two extremes united.

The effect was overwhelming.

He could respond to any situation and always used his strength efficiently.

Yes, if this were a battle of pure swordsmanship, he might be at a disadvantage — Haze admitted it.

But swordsmanship wasn’t all he had.

Haze raised his sword beside his head with both hands, pointing the tip at the scarred man.

The second sword floated gently in the air and leveled itself.

The first sword pierced through the air — clang!

— the scarred man blocked it.

Screeech!

The second sword shot in at a similar angle — clang!

Again, it was deflected.

This pattern repeated.

Haze, furiously moving his swords, pressed the scarred man hard.

Haze’s specialty magic, Silent Shadow (적영), was not telekinesis.

It had a similar effect but was fundamentally different.

Simply put, Silent Shadow was magic that created another version of himself —

An invisible hand that moved like him.

That was the essence of Silent Shadow.

Once activated, it needed no further attention —

It attacked gracefully on its own, as if Haze himself were wielding it.

…So why?

Two swords aimed at the scarred man’s head.

Blocked.

…Why are they all—?

Two swords went for his heart.

Blocked again.

Why is he blocking everything so easily—?

“Confused, huh? That all your secret attacks are getting blocked?”

The scarred man spoke while fending off Haze’s blades.

His attitude was so casual that Haze almost thought they were at a tea party, not a battlefield.

“Well, obviously. It’s all predictable!”

Boom!

A deafening explosion that didn’t sound like a mere sword clash rang out.

Knocked back, Haze watched as the scarred man sneered and said,

“When I can see every move you’re about to make, what difference does it make if you have two swords or a hundred?”

“You should’ve just trained harder. Your forms aren’t even fully internalized, and you’re already getting distracted by flashy tricks. No wonder you’re so easy to read.”

Haze caught his breath and raised his sword.

Not yet.

He still hadn’t shown everything—

“And…”

The scarred man said quietly, then pointed his blade toward the sky.

A surge of power exploded out.

“You and I were never on the same level to begin with.”

No way.

The completely different aura made one word flash through Haze’s mind.

As if to confirm that thought, the scarred man calmly spoke one word:

“Release.”

At the same time, a transformation occurred behind his back.

Thousands of small cubes appeared and reassembled themselves.

A flaming cape materialized, and the flames extended to his sword.

Refinement Magic was the core of knightly magic — striking one’s inner self to forge a weapon.

This traditional and historic magic, created by the first emperor himself, had stages.

Stage 0 — Weapon Enhancement.

A stage where magic was literally overlaid onto a weapon.

At that time, Ruina was at that corresponding stage, and the effect merely ended at reinforcing the sharpness and strength of her weapon.

It wasn’t particularly helpful, which is why knights who remained at stage 0 were usually called apprentices.

Next was stage 1: Physical Enhancement.

This was the stage Hayes had reached.

It was the stage where magic extended beyond the weapon to affect the body, and a visible characteristic was a change in eye color.

From this stage on, one could expect the superhuman abilities typically associated with knights, and most full-fledged knights stayed at this level.

But not all knights did.

Only a very few ever reached the next level.

Stage 2: Liberation.

Everyone harbors an ideal in their heart.

Each person has their own image of the strongest self.

And stage 2, Liberation, was the level at which a knight manifested one of these ideals—painstakingly forged within themselves—into reality.

Flames erupted.

The fire was so intense that Hayes felt his lips drying.

The hot air, unimaginable for midwinter, filled the space between Hayes and the scarred man.

The scarred man raised his flaming greatsword straight and threatened fiercely.

“You wasted such talent trying to learn magic—no wonder you’re getting stomped by me, you lucky bastard!”

A crimson meteor streaked across the world.

Hayes’s body floated.

After drifting briefly in the air, he was pulled down by the earth’s grasp and crashed back to the ground, rolling across it.

Maybe the snow that had piled up helped cushion the fall—his body didn’t hurt.

But his heart did.

“If you keep getting distracted by magic like that, you’ll regret it someday, Hayes.”

There’s an old saying: a student is one who doesn’t listen to their teacher, and a teacher’s words are always right because they’re the teacher.

Hayes was now painfully realizing why such a saying existed—both in body and mind.

“Orphin—!”

Isaac was driving Orphin into a corner.

Orphin, who had only known the imperial palace, versus Isaac, who had survived the battlefield—it was obvious whose sword would be sharper even without seeing it.

The scarred man slowly approached.

Hayes, struggling to move his stiff body, recalled the past.

He had been overjoyed when he first succeeded in activating Crimson Flame.

To develop a single spell to the level of a specialty spell—it made him believe, without a doubt, that he had finally become a student his teacher could be proud of.

His swordsmanship had steadily improved as well.

And when he finally caught the attention of royalty and became a royal guard, he thought he had earned society’s recognition.

It was all for nothing.

His teacher had been right.

A knight may learn refinement magic, but they are not a mage.

He should have understood that much sooner.

Regret.

So much regret.

If only he had focused a little more on swordsmanship.

If only he had abandoned magic earlier.

If only he had realized this a bit sooner.

As he listened to the scarred man’s footsteps crushing the snow, Hayes screamed inwardly.

Anyone.

Please, anyone.

A god?

An evil deity?

A demon?

An angel?

It really doesn’t matter who.

I’ll give you anything you want.

I’ll grant whatever you desire.

If you just give me a chance to fix this regret—Anyone is fine.

Please, just once…

“This is the end, lucky one. Don’t squander your luck in the next life.”

Just give me one more chance!

BOOOOM!

A massive force slammed into the ground.

But it wasn’t the greatsword.

Hayes blankly lifted his head.

Right in front of him—

The spot where the scarred man had just stood—

Was now crushed under the fist of a giant wooden golem Hayes had once seen before.

“I normally don’t do store credit, but since you’re a VIP customer, Hayes… You better pay me back with that magic, okay?”

That relaxed voice was so out of place in the urgent situation that it somehow brought Hayes a strange sense of relief.

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

A swarm of wooden soldiers was summoned, blocking Isaac’s path.

Ruina walked calmly toward Isaac.

Just as he was about to finish off Orphin, Isaac was suddenly interrupted and exploded with anger.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Hello there.”

“Do you have any idea what it means to stand in my way? Do you understand what it means to make an enemy of Isaac Aeterno?!”

“What are you talking about, Second Prince?”

Ruina smiled brightly, then summoned an enormous wooden golem from the earth and climbed onto it.

Then, as if singing, she continued:

“Then, Second Prince, did you know what it meant when you stole my family name?”