Chapter 88: Master

The young swordmaster came to his belated realization. He finally understood why his master had let him go—because he lacked an essential quality.

At that moment, he recalled his master’s sword. The imagery it carried was like a withered flower.

Until now, he had never grasped its true meaning, but now he felt as though he did: it embodied an unquenchable thirst. Being parched, it deserved to be quenched. And if no amount of quenching could satisfy it, then one should simply relish the thirst itself.

In that instant, the wastrel gained enlightenment.

He was no longer a wastrel.

“Wow…”

Fyunn, owner of the weapon shop “Blue Steel Sword,” couldn’t help but exclaim at the scene unfolding before her eyes.

For a dwarf like her, it was the ultimate honor and dream—to see a weapon she’d handled become known in the hands of a great swordsman. That was why dwarves had such a keen interest in the swordsman class.

One of the topics that sent the dwarves wild and made them leap with excitement was the single sword that Swordmaster Riven Blade stubbornly clung to. So, Fyunn nearly lost her mind when Riven Blade himself visited her shop for a weapon consultation.

Who could have imagined that Riven Blade’s cherished weapon was none other than an ego sword? And more astonishing still, that very ego sword had been his master!

The small dwarf trembled with excitement; the news she had gathered already felt enough to drive her wild. She could barely contain the urge to rush off to the tavern where dwarves gathered and proudly share the story.

But then came one more piece of startling information.

“Riven Blade’s master took on a new disciple…?”

This incredible tidbit made all the previous revelations seem trivial!

The ego sword had abandoned Riven Blade to take on a new disciple—who turned out to be a little whelp that looked like a mage!!!

Fyunn practically snorted steam as she watched the scene unfold before her, eyes alight with excitement.

“…”

Riven Blade’s inability to easily accept the situation only fueled the dwarf’s excitement. The man looked dazed, unable to shake off the shock from just moments ago.

Eventually, he muttered to himself in a firm voice.

“…No.”

The swordmaster radiated an air of hostility.

Meanwhile, the dwarf girl’s eyes sparkled with relentless delight.

“Ooh…!!!”

Seeing the swordmaster lose his composure was a rare sight indeed.

She stared intently at the man responsible for this entire spectacle.

Who in the world is he?!

The nameless genius swordsman—the one who had earned Riven Blade’s master’s recognition and even sparked jealousy in the swordmaster himself.

Rodan stared into Risir’s eyes. He was the most interesting person he had met recently.

Finding the cultists who had infiltrated the city was as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack. If he had been in Risir’s position, could he have stopped Dranoff’s plan so effortlessly?

It was probably impossible.

After all, without him, High Priest Dranoff’s scheme for the White Shadow Order would never have been thwarted. He fully acknowledged how extraordinary the young mage was and had no intention of denying it.

But this was a separate matter.

Master…!

He inwardly called out to the unknown presence within the ego sword.

Yes, unknown—Rodan still didn’t know her name. More than that, she had never acknowledged him as her disciple or taught him directly. Instead, he received only indirect lessons, like assignments left by a sword with an unclear will.

Nevertheless, Rodan revered her as his one and only master. Thanks to the power she had granted him, he had broken through barriers to reach the 8th rank and escape his mother’s shadow.

Having fulfilled his long-cherished wish, his sole remaining desire was to earn her recognition.

Rodan had vowed to solve the homework she had left him, to receive her teachings, and to be reborn as a true disciple. Yet, a sudden farewell came before any of these wishes could be realized.

The sword no longer emerged from its scabbard, and he could no longer hear her voice.

The farewell and absence without any promise drove his mind to its limits—to the point where the overbearing swordmaster willingly approached the cultists and bowed before them.

Amid all this, he finally heard news of his master from someone else—the master who had abandoned him had taken on a new disciple.

At that moment, everything fell into place.

His master had cast him aside completely, choosing a new disciple in his place.

“That can’t be.”

How could he accept it? How could he acknowledge it?

Rodan’s unyielding will twisted in the wrong direction. He convinced himself that the man before him was a deceiver, and he harbored no doubt about it.

“I was wrong about you, Risir. Is this all you amounted to?”

Clear contempt twisted Rodan’s lips.

“You promised to help me and took your compensation. But contrary to your expectations, your little friends couldn’t help, leaving you with a problem to solve. And your solution was this: lying that you could hear my master’s voice. Isn’t that right?”

Instead of answering, Risir silently raised the sword in his hand and drew it. The blade slid smoothly from the confines of its scabbard.

“…!”

Rodan’s eyes wavered—but only for a moment.

“Master.”

He called out to the sword.

“Master.”

But there was no answer.

Not only was she silent, but her unmistakable presence had vanished, along with the power that had shattered his bottleneck at the 8th rank.

An unprecedented wave of shock rippled through the swordmaster’s mind. His perfectly controlled breathing broke, overcome by anger.

“You…”

The dwarf girl had been watching with excitement but froze, holding her breath without realizing it.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away, feeling as though she were surrounded by a pack of wolves, exposed and helpless amidst a snowfield.

The oppressive weight of murderous intent filled the air.

“…”

Rodan’s next words cut through the tension.

“What did you do to my master…?”

His hand hovered near the sword at his waist.

Clana watched everything unfold from within her inner world, a satisfied smile creeping across her face.

This was the perfect flow. Given Rodan’s arrogant and stubborn nature, along with his obsession with her, she was certain no voice would reach his ears now.

The mage would never be able to sway Rodan.

The best-case scenario played out in Clana’s mind: Risir would meet his end at Rodan’s hand. She would soon escape this dreadful prison, free from this terrible situation.

A smile tugged at Clana’s lips in anticipation.

“I’ll ask one last time. Tell me what you did to my master.”

“…As I’ve said repeatedly, I have done nothing.”

If Risir had shown even a hint of panic or hesitation, Rodan would have subdued him without delay. But even in this situation, he remained calm and unflinching.

Show weakness, and I die.

Risir had already figured out how to deal with Rodan, and so he feigned composure with all his might.

“…”

Hesitation crept into Rodan’s stance.

-You imbecile!!! You disappoint me until the very end!

Clana screamed in frustration, but as expected, her voice didn’t reach Rodan.

“I’m just stating the facts. Your master…she asked me to become her disciple.”

“…”

Indeed, Risir was speaking the truth. His quiet confidence left Rodan bewildered.

“Why…”

And so, Risir succeeded in revealing a vulnerability in an opponent far stronger than himself—a gap in his heart. Peering into Rodan’s inner self through that gap, he realized that the force driving him now wasn’t anger, but fear.

It’s terribly difficult to persuade someone dominated by anger. In contrast, persuading someone overwhelmed by fear is surprisingly simple—at least, Risir believed so.

With that conviction, he acted without hesitation.

“Actually, it was all for you.”

“…What?”

Risir’s mind raced.

What is the best situation I can create right now? And what do I need to achieve it?

His attention naturally turned to her—the source of it all, the murderous fiend who had invaded his inner world.

No, rather, the ego sword that had become bound to him.

“…”

All of a sudden, Risir felt a distinct power surge within him, intertwined with the ego sword.

A possibility flashed through his mind, and he immediately unleashed the sword’s power.

“That’s—”

Astonishment filled Rodan’s eyes as a subtle imagery emanated from Blue Lotus—a withered flower.

“Master…?”

Rodan involuntarily uttered the name, for it was unmistakably his master’s sword.

-What…!

Clana choked with surprise. She had no memory of ever allowing Risir to wield her sword, yet how could he use her power?

“Master—Master!!! Are you there?!”

Rodan’s reaction only fueled Clana’s mounting frustration.

-Yes! I’m here! Your master is trapped here! So hurry and stain that sword with blood!!! You half-baked, good-for-nothing—

“Yes. She is here, listening to you. She is borrowing my body to leave you with a final lesson.”

“What do you…a final lesson…? Huh?”

Rodan stared blankly at Risir’s sword—no, his master’s sword. His eyes widened as the imagery within the blade shifted moment by moment.

The withered flower bloomed, embracing freshness.

“She said that you…are far from blood. You will never become a sword that craves blood.”

The delivery of this liberal interpretation was followed by pangs of conscience.

For the first time, a hint of deception flickered across Risir’s face, but Rodan was currently incapable of discerning it. His mind was too occupied with recalling the first warm words and the teachings his master had given him.

-You shameless, thick-skinned bastard! What are you babbling about?! I never said such a thing!

-Rodan!!! You’ll never become such a great person! You’re just a mediocre fool who can never be either a hero or a villain! But with just one more step forward, you can become the complete form you were meant to be!

-Rodan! Kill him! Then I will pass on everything to you!

Clana howled from the inner world.

Meanwhile, Rodan mulled over the last words his master supposedly left him.

“You will never become a sword that craves blood…”

In that decisive moment, Swordmaster Riven Blade did what he had hesitated to do until the very end. He drew another sword—not the unique ego sword that had come to symbolize Riven Blade.

Rodan closed his eyes and calmly delved into his inner self. He confronted the shadows of his mother and his master. In that quiet solitude, he took the time to face himself, liberated from all that had held him back.

In truth, he was a far cry from Risir’s interpretation. He wasn’t entirely evil at heart, but neither was he purely good. His current demeanor of an overbearing wastrel could be said to reflect his inherent, true nature.

Yet, above all, he yearned for his master’s teachings. Those warm lessons from his master were enough to shift his perspective.

I am…

The image of himself that Rodan saw within was murky and tainted.

-You will never become a sword that craves blood.

It was a form that contradicted his master’s belief, and Rodan was ashamed of it.

So, he rejected it. He insisted that it wasn’t his true self. That, if he truly wished, he could change as much as he desired.

There was no reason to doubt. His master’s belief had to be grounded in something true.

“…”

The sword in the mage’s hand came into view as Rodan opened his eyes once more. The sword that manifested the fully bloomed flower, flawless and untainted.

The wastrel had found enlightenment. He was no longer a wastrel.

“Master…”

As Rodan gazed peacefully at Blue Lotus, the imagery within the sword began to fade.

-Rodan!!! You imbecile!!!

Watching that, Rodan thought it resembled a faint smile, one fitting for a farewell. And so, he responded to his master with a small smile of his own.

Risir dropped the sword in perfect timing.

“Thank you for everything, Master.”

Rodan bid his master farewell.

-No!!! Please, please get me out of here!!! Rodan!!! My disciple!!!

It was a clean farewell between master and disciple—one without any regrets from either side.

“Master.”

A voice roused Clana as she wallowed in despair.

“Please take care of me from now on, okay?”

Risir smiled brightly. Just when he sought to delve deeper into the ways of the sword, he had unexpectedly stumbled upon a precious(?) connection.

-Ah, ah…

For the first time, the murderous fiend felt the emotion of fear.