Nadoli had failed. For a direct apprentice of the Sword Saint, this was a disgrace. He was willing to cut open his stomach to repent. His severed right arm, the pain wracking his body, none of it bothered him as much as the shock of what had happened.
There was only one reason he had stopped himself from taking his own life.
“Maaan, that was one great night. I knew Devil Swords make people really strong, but damn, I hadn’t expected that. Krai, you mad genius!”
“Urgh. What about that was genius?!”
It was because of the grinning, dust-coated man in front of him. Even though he was the one who had brought the source of all this, Luke Sykol not only appeared devoid of malice, but he was in fine spirits. In front of this man, Nadoli couldn’t possibly slit his stomach.
A renowned dojo that had produced countless great Swordsmen was now in ruins. The intimidating gate, outer walls, and ceiling were all ruined. It was hard to think anyone would look at this and imagine it had all been caused by a single sword.
Even after being cleaned up, the scent of blood still lingered on. It would normally be unlikely for a single sword to cause so much destruction, but that was no ordinary sword that the Thousand Tricks had sent in.
Devil Swords came in a number of varieties. Some granted power in exchange for something in return, some changed functions depending on their wielders’ talents, while some chose their wielders and raised them into first-rate Swordsmen. Not all swords of the Era of Advanced Magical Weaponry could be comprehended through modern sensibilities.
It wasn’t until after it was all over that Nadoli realized that this blade was hazardous even by Devil Sword standards. The moment he had gripped that bewitching sword, he felt an irresistible urge to swing the blade, and a sense of omnipotence, like all the world was his for the taking.
All Swordsmen felt a strange sense of elation when holding a sword for the first time, but it was something several thousand times stronger than that which had exiled every other emotion from Nadoli.
Swordsmen were generally expected to not just know how to swing a blade, but also have good character. This was so they could put their acquired skills to proper use. It was in part because Luke poured all his passion solely into swordsmanship that he still wasn’t regarded as one of the best.
Nadoli should have noticed it earlier. He should have been on his guard the moment he felt those eerie pangs, the moment he laid eyes on the sword. He should have resisted his impulses and exercised self-restraint. He should have been a role model for his fellow apprentices.
A desire for strength. Envy. Animus. Conceit. Devil Swords could latch on to the weakness of human hearts. Many of these blades were capable of inspiring fear, but they were also powerful, with beautiful forms to match. A simple swing of this could cut the world. It was light as a feather. It could cut everything, even the air, unimpeded. In terms of pure power, this Devil Sword probably had few rivals.
It had taken to Nadoli’s hand almost like it had become part of him, like it had always been there. No, that wasn’t it. When Nadoli grabbed it, he felt like he was a part of it, as if cutting creatures was his reason for being.
Luke was a maniac who was not only unfazed by the attacks of a fellow apprentice but actually started swinging back. Though if not for him, Nadoli might have killed all the other apprentices. Of course, if Luke hadn’t brought that sword, then none of this would have happened in the first place.
Luke Sykol was a problem child. He had a straightforward passion for swinging and had cut many people, including fellow apprentices. However, he hadn’t destroyed many buildings. Wrecking the dojo and causing such a stir that outsiders heard about it was a first. Knights had already arrived to ask what had happened. There would be no hiding this, nor would it be forgiven.
Nadoli could clearly recall what had happened while he had been at the mercy of the Devil Sword. Burned into the back of his eyelids was the sight of his mentor’s blank face when he came to find the dojo in ruins, the apprentices collapsed, one of his apprentices possessed by a Devil Sword, and Luke eagerly swinging back.
Poor showing from his apprentices affected the reputation of the Sword Saint himself. This incident was Nadoli’s responsibility. Though his mentor might forgive him, that was beside the point.
“Ahhh. That was great,” Luke said. “Super strong. Leave it to Krai to really understand me. That was what I wanted! Only problem was that I couldn’t duke it out with our mentor, since he wasn’t here and all.”
“Y-You dolt!” Nadoli said. “Our mentor would never give in to a Devil Sword!”
The piles of collapsed apprentices had all been carried off so their wounds could be treated. The only people left were those who had arrived after the fact. The pools of blood had been cleaned up, and the severed body parts removed.
Last night, the only ones in the dojo were those who showed exceptional dedication. But many of these victims hadn’t been cut by Nadoli. He glared at Luke, who had been all too glad to fight him.
Nadoli wasn’t the only one who had lost to the allure of the Devil Sword. When he could no longer move, another apprentice had been pulled in by the sword, and when they could no longer move, another apprentice had been pulled in and attacked Luke, the one person not affected by the sword.
Even a Devil Sword was still dependent on the strength of its wielder. After taking down Nadoli, Luke should have been able to get the other apprentices to a safe distance before any of them could reach the sword.
Yet this man...
The source of this tragedy was now gone. It had been returned to its scabbard and wrapped in the cloth Luke had brought it in before being taken away by their mentor. Once it had been examined by an expert, it would become clear how dangerous that sword was. It should also help them understand what the Thousand Tricks had been thinking when he sent it.