Chapter 8 – Escalation #2

-Maia, Maia.

The young master was there, right before her eyes.

Young Master Yuder, who was barely five years old.

He had come down with a fever the night before and had been confined to his bed all day. His face was still flushed as he let out shallow breaths.

-Yes, Young Master. I’m right here.

Maia was small, too. An orphan with no knowledge of her exact age, she was a little girl who couldn’t have been much older than ten.

When she gently took his hand, which was buried in the blankets, Yuder managed a small smile despite his pain.

-Maia.

-Yes, Young Master.

-Later, when I grow up, I’m going to marry you, Maia.

-Really?

-Yes, really. I’ll get really healthy and I’ll definitely marry you.

When he grew up.
When he got healthy.

Maia’s eyes welled with tears at the words young Yuder offered with a shy little laugh.

Back then, Yuder was so frail that it was hard to imagine him living to see twenty.

But Maia didn’t cry.

Instead, she beamed and leaned in close to him.

-Yes, Young Master. I’ll be waiting. So you have to promise you’ll get healthy, okay?

-Okay, Maia. I like you so much, Maia.

-Me too, Young Master. I like you so much.

To the young Yuder, Maia was more than just a friendly maid.

She was a mother and a sister, and it was no exaggeration to say she was his entire world.

And for Maia, it was much the same.

Yuder Bayer.
My little young master.

Sssshk!

A sharp sound jolted her back to reality.

Waking from the dreamlike panorama of her life flashing before her eyes, Maia saw the monster standing in front of her.

No scream came out.

As a sharp glint of light reflected in the tears streaming down her face from fear and pain, Maia thought of Yuder one last time.

The monster swung its sword.
No, it was about to swing.

“Maiaaaa!”

A scream-like cry approached at high speed.

The monster reacted first.

But the charge was slightly faster than its turn.

CRASH!

With a heavy thud, the monster’s body was sent flying.

A woman who had shoulder-tackled the monster from behind tumbled messily across the floor.

Maia saw her.

The sight of that familiar light brown hair made her heart feel like it would burst.

“Uraagh!”

With a cry that seemed to be spurring herself on, the woman—Dahlia—pushed herself to her feet.

She was clad in the magic armor Yuder had commissioned from the dwarf craftsmen, the one embedded with a fragment of an Ancient Dragon’s Dragon Heart.

The monster, which had been sent flying, clashed with Dahlia.

No, the moment they rushed at each other, a series of sharp, roaring sounds erupted.

Klang-klang-klang-klang-klang!

It was the crossing of sword and swords.

The monster’s four arms rained down at a terrifying speed, and Dahlia’s sword deflected every single trajectory.

This was a feat that should have been impossible with Dahlia’s original skill.

But she had the assistance of the magic armor.

A drug that momentarily enhanced her nervous system granted Dahlia transcendent perception.

A blue light flared from the magic armor Dahlia wore.

Because she was pushing the armor’s performance beyond its limits, blood streamed from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, but Dahlia did not stop.

Her sword strike destroyed everything in its path.

The monster’s four arms were severed at once, its chest was split wide open, and red fluid gushed from its head, which had been cleaved in two.

Thud!

The moment the monster collapsed, Dahlia also crumpled to the ground.

At that moment, Maia, finally regaining her senses, tried to run to Dahlia, but it was impossible.

Her crushed legs wouldn’t move properly, so Maia crawled across the floor toward Dahlia.

“Keuk. Ugh.”

Dahlia coughed up a mouthful of blood, her body trembling as she let out a pained groan.

Her head throbbed. Her body ached, but it felt as if her vision was constantly blurring.

She wanted to collapse and fall asleep right there. But she couldn’t.

Dahlia bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Clinging to consciousness through the pain, she looked back at the woman who had finally reached her feet.

“Dahlia.”

“Maia.”

The moment she saw her face, tears burst forth.

Was it out of relief?

It was the same for Maia. She, too, burst into tears.

“Maia, are you okay?”

Maia couldn’t answer Dahlia’s question properly.

She could only hug Dahlia tightly as she came closer.

Even through the magic armor, she could feel a heartbeat. She could feel the warmth of her body.

But there was no time to waste.

Dahlia’s arrival here was no simple miracle.

It was because she had received a call from Athalia.

“Maia, will you be alright?”

“I’m fine, so hurry…”

We have to transport the World Stone.

Nodding, Dahlia gently set Maia down and forced herself to her feet again.

Her whole body felt like it was creaking, but she forced it to move.

But just as she took a step.

Dahlia felt a sense of unease.

It was a wrongness she could sense because she was a trained knight.

There was no sound.

The monster she had just defeated was not a special one.

Dahlia had already defeated three identical monsters on her way here.

So why weren’t more monsters appearing?

Were there only four of them? That made no sense.

Even if there really were only four, another type of monster should have appeared.

Dahlia took another step.

And then she understood why no more monsters had appeared.

Beyond the large, gaping hole.

A one-armed man walked out.

A blue sword hung from his single right arm, and his gray eyes, set beneath dark blue hair, were filled with emptiness.

Not human.

She knew the moment she saw him.

And she inevitably understood.

She couldn’t win.

Even with the power of the magic armor and the drug combined, this was not an opponent she could handle.

Maia felt something similar.

“Arms and legs are unnecessary to open a door, I suppose.”

The moment the man—the War God—spoke, a flash of light split the corridor.

And Dahlia fell.

Both of her legs had been severed, magic armor and all.

“Dahlia!”

Dahlia couldn’t answer.

Perhaps from the shock of losing her legs, she only trembled, letting out a gasping sound.

The War God gazed at her indifferently.

He raised his sword again, and in that instant, Maia reflexively threw herself over Dahlia, hugging her.

The War God didn’t care.

He simply swung his sword again.

To disintegrate Maia’s body.

He could have forced open the door to the room where the World Stone was hidden, but he had judged it better to use the key.

Maia hugged Dahlia’s body tightly.

The War God swung his sword.

And at the same time, a gust of wind blew through.

*

The First Sword took a step.

Towards the Imperial Palace. Towards that distant horizon.

A nameless Sword Master blocked the First Sword’s path.

He had never seen him before.

Perhaps he was someone who had become one of the Empire’s new Sword Masters after his own death.

He didn’t care.

He simply looked at the sword.

Through the sword, he saw the man’s path.

He could tell.

The path to the horizon was not singular.

Each path held its own value.

The First Sword smiled and swung his blade.

He recalled the first time he had held a sword.

The existence of the horizon, which a seasoned swordsman only comes to see after truly understanding the sword, was something the First Sword had known from the very beginning.

And because of that, he had forgotten.

He had thought it so obvious that he had, ironically, lost his way to the horizon.

The First Sword swung his blade.

There was no more hesitation.

Instead of indulging in ecstasy, he simply immersed himself in the sword.

The nameless Sword Master fell.

It wasn’t a defeat in a duel of flashy and powerful sword auras.

There was no earth-shattering clash or explosion to begin with.

Just the sword.

Before the strike unleashed by a single rod of steel, the Sword Master fell, his chest slashed open.

The First Sword knew.

He knew what the ones who had brought him back to this land desired.

He knew what would happen to this world if he took the World Stone they wanted.

He didn’t care. He paid it no mind.

He saw only the sword.

Gazing once more at the horizon that had been with him his entire life, he simply walked on.

Magic could not harm the First Sword.

The bombardments raining down from afar were the same.

The First Sword’s blade was approaching the principle of the sword.

He cut the world and space itself to dismantle magic.

An army blocked the First Sword’s path.

And it collapsed into a pool of blood.

No matter what lay in his path, the First Sword simply advanced straight toward the Imperial Palace, toward the horizon.

“You shall go no further.”

Leon and the Empire’s Sword Masters appeared.

They charged the First Sword simultaneously.

Five against one.

But it was the five, not the one, whose bodies were stiff with tension.

It was a combined attack by Sword Masters.

Never before in the history of the Empire had five Sword Masters launched a combined attack against a single opponent.

But such a historic moment did not guarantee the outcome.

Sword met swords.

No, they didn’t just cross.

The First Sword’s blade cut through the Sword Masters’ blades.

He forced one outcome out of the countless possible futures that could unfold the moment their swords clashed.

One by one, the Sword Masters fell.

They collapsed as if it were a lie.

Some didn’t just lose their swords; they lost their lives, their necks severed, their chests torn open.

Leon clutched his severed arm and sank to his knees.

The First Sword looked at him.

He was a man of dazzling talent.

If he continued to train, he was one who could one day reach the rank of Grand Swordmaster—a Sword Saint.

The First Sword didn’t care.

Instead of feeling a thrill from having crushed a brilliant future, he simply stared straight ahead.

The Imperial Palace was now much closer.

The horizon, which had felt so distant, was as well.

If I reach that place, if I attain the principle of the sword, what kind of scenery will I see then?

What in the world will the view from there be like?

The First Sword smiled and took another step.

And then, a man stood before him.

They had met before.

The First Sword knew the man’s name.

Maximilian de Avis.

The one born with the most brilliant talent on the continent.

And for that very reason, like the First Sword himself, he was one who had lost his way to the horizon.

Perhaps the strongest card the current Empire could play.

But Maximilian did not draw his sword.

The First Sword, too, instead of raising his sword, let it hang loosely and took a relaxed stance.

Because he knew the moment they faced each other.

That the card Pleiades had prepared to stop him was not Maximilian.

“You’ve changed. Haven’t you?”

As if in response to the First Sword’s words, a man appeared on the path leading to the horizon.

*

The War God’s sword could not harm Maia.

The gust of wind had deflected the War God’s blade.

It was a rough and angry wind.

And in that wind, Maia lifted her head again to look forward.

She burst into tears at the sight of the back of the man standing firm before the War God.

*

Athalia let out a ragged breath.

The sudden expenditure of power had left her mind reeling, but she wore a smile.

The ones who stood blocking the path of the War God and the First Sword.

Aylia knew them, too.

“The Sword Saint of Wind.”

Count Bayer.

“The Heavenly Sword Saint.”

Lucas Hresvelg.

Count Bayer unleashed the Sword of Wind.

Lucas and the First Sword charged at each other.

And at that same moment.

There was one who was advancing toward the burning royal capital.

---

Translated By: Meher (RaidenTL)

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