“Temper your spirits! By losing to a Devil Sword, you’ve disgraced our name!”
The apprentices all swung their swords single-mindedly. With the damage caused by the Devil Sword still apparent, an intense fervor unlike any other had fallen over the dojo of Soln Rowell, the Sword Saint.
After glancing at his students, Soln looked down to his side, where the source of all the mayhem now rested. The Devil Sword was thrust into a pedestal and glimmered in the unobstructed sunlight. It had reportedly glowed an ominous crimson when disrupting people’s minds, like it had when Nadoli wielded it, but now it was black as the void.
That eerie glow bewitched people and brought madness upon anyone who picked it up. Its demonic nature was the real thing. If Nadoli, one of the most talented apprentices, had been possessed, then this was unlike anything Soln had seen before.
The talents of Soln and his students had earned them a special place in the imperial capital. Some of his apprentices came from the city’s most powerful noble families, and they were sometimes given deference equal to the knights. It was that deep trust that led them to help with security at the Gathering of the White Blade.
If word spread that some of the Swordsmen of this dojo had been possessed by a Devil Sword and gone on a rampage, their reputation would plummet, and so might their status. It was thanks to the swift actions of Sir Franz that it hadn’t yet come to this. Though they couldn’t disguise the fact that the dojo had been ruined, they had placed a gag order in the nick of time. There might be rumors, but as long as no outsiders had been hurt and no proof existed, there was no reason to worry.
Apparently, the Thousand Tricks had asked him to take care of the matter. Real cunning of him, seeing as he was the one who had sent the sword over.
The one group that did know what had really happened was the students themselves. Thanks to a display of power from Soln himself, only a few apprentices withdrew after the incident. He demonstrated what a human could achieve through training to be a Swordsman. After all, a foundation of the Soln school of swordsmanship was to train the heart, mind, and techniques, so that one could face impossible odds with all their strength and maintain a calm mind no matter the situation.
By this metric, Nadoli still had a long way to go. It didn’t matter whether or not the Thousand Tricks was to blame for this; the results were still a source of embarrassment for Soln.
He placed a hand on the pommel. Soln had traveled all over the world so that he could master the blade. He had dueled many powerful foes, been blessed with many friends, and at some point earned himself the title of Sword Saint. Like a sharp blade, a tempered spirit wouldn’t be broken by a cursed Devil Sword. Soln himself still had room for improvement, but he could at least shake off a cursed blade.
Dispatched by the Thousand Tricks, the Troglodytes were repairing the dojo’s damage with incredible speed. It wouldn’t be long before the building was as good as new, though Soln was starting to suspect it might look a bit different than it used to.
The apprentices watched as Soln calmly held the Devil Sword. “There is indeed a terrible power lurking within this blade,” he said, his gaze sweeping across them. “This is a demonic weapon that leads its wielder astray and guiles them into committing massacres. But it’s the weakness of the heart that it preys upon. Attain the placidity of a lake, and you won’t be swayed by a sword.”
Therefore, due to his unshakably earnest and obsessively pure desire to be a better Swordsman, Luke Sykol had been able to hold the sword without being led astray. In fact, all famous swords could sway a person’s heart to some degree or another. Anyone who could touch this sword and maintain their sanity was instantly worthy of being regarded as a true Swordsman, regardless of their technical skills or achievements.
Just as Holy Swords chose their wielders, so did Devil Swords. If used by one with the right heart, a Devil Sword could be a very reliable weapon.
“Anyone who thinks they’re worthy can challenge the Devil Sword whenever they please. I’ll be there to preside. If you can fight back this blade’s wiles, that will prove you’ve entered a new phase of your training.”
With a new, clear-cut objective, the apprentices were filled with renewed determination. At this rate, the appearance of a Swordsman who could triumph over the Devil Sword wasn’t far off. Perhaps the recent tragedy wouldn’t be without its benefits.
Soln heard shouts of determination from his apprentices. Nadoli was among them. He had recovered from his wounds and was swinging his sword with absolute dedication.
“Master,” said Luke, the one person swinging a wooden sword, “where’s my trial?”
“Luke, you can learn not to cut.”
“I did that a long time ago, when Krai told me to. Now, Master, I wanna cut some really tough guys!”
I seem to recall telling you the same thing...
It then occurred to Soln that maybe Luke hadn’t been led astray by the sword because his heart was already wayward. Soln let out a deep sigh as a very bad feeling swept over him. Even for the Sword Saint, guiding his pupils down the right path was no easy task.