The soldier, though reacting instinctively, had followed his training. He had braced his hips and tried to transition into a counterattack. Which meant, even slightly, his awareness of defense had lapsed. Had he simply continued to focus on enduring, he might have held his ground even after being hit by Quivering Feet.
“Still, once this technique spreads, those who can use magic will devise counters. Since Ki Wave can be used with mana as well, they might perform their own Quivering Feet—or adjust the angle of their shield to deflect it. But that simply means you’ve reached a point where a real exchange of tactics becomes possible.”
Against an opponent you could never hope to defeat, a path to victory appears. The Cursed Power—the useless, pitied Hex Art—had become a weapon.
“Ki Wave and Ki Blade both have many applied techniques for close combat. Learning them will never be a waste.”
It was clear that it would not be easy, and even with effort, they might still be at a disadvantage. But even so, they now saw a concrete route by which they could defeat a mage.
“Originally, applied techniques should only be taught after pounding the basics into you...but I have little time, and Sansui is not free to train you either. So I will show you as many applied techniques as I can. Engrave my demonstrations into your minds.”
With that, Suiboku once again pointed his wooden sword at the soldier. It seemed he intended to continue teaching how to fight against a soldier using magic, turning it into a proper form—a codified style.
I’d better steel myself well, the soldier thought.
This was swordsmanship refined by a sage who could manipulate even heaven and earth. To experience it—to be the opponent he demonstrated it on—made the soldier tremble. Even so, he straightened his posture and readied his mind.
When the demonstration was complete, Suiboku continued his instruction without wasting even a moment. He possessed deep knowledge in medicine, pharmacology, and the natural sciences, and he poured out more principles and teachings than could ever be fully taught—or fully absorbed. No, to be precise, what was insufficient was not the content but the time to pass it on. All the knowledge Suiboku had accumulated over a thousand years was packed into his mind. Had it been preserved in books, it might have been enough merely to learn how to read them. But time was mercilessly short—even shorter by the standards of ordinary mortals.
On this last day at the academy, Suiboku visited the headmaster.
“These past few years, I owe you much. At first, my time here was meant as an apology for the matter regarding Fukei...but I must say, I enjoyed myself more than I expected.”
“If that’s how you feel, then I’m glad. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the other teachers and students as well.”
The joyful smile he wore was that of a child, yet the words he spoke belonged to a living repository of knowledge. One could hardly believe he was the wrathful god who had destroyed countless nations. In that way, too, he and Sansui resembled one another.
“I only wish you could continue teaching us much longer.”
“Yes... I feel the same. But it wouldn’t do to put this off any further. Think of this as a natural stopping point.”
The headmaster tried to persuade him to stay, but Suiboku—looking genuinely pained—declined. There was even a faint trace of lingering attachment.
“Could it be that you, sir, actually enjoyed being asked to teach?”
“Er...”
It appeared the headmaster’s guess had been right on the mark. Suiboku, a little embarrassed, began fumbling for excuses.
“It’s not just me—Sansui is the same way, is he not? And back in my homeland, many of the Immortals delighted in passing on the wisdom and arts they had cultivated to those who earnestly sought to learn.”
Neither Eckesachs nor Sansui had ever heard Suiboku speak of his past. That was because he carried complicated feelings toward his homeland. But after killing Fukei, those feelings had become simple.
“Most of them have probably already finished their training, entrusted everything to their successors, and passed from this world.”
He intended to die in his homeland—to end his life there. Though he was a man who could surely continue living for ages upon ages, he nevertheless meant to bring things to a close.
“I suppose I’ll follow their example. I’ve already finished passing down the ultimate technique to Sansui, after all.”
“It’s an enviable thing.” The headmaster understood.
To be able to say that one had fully entrusted the most important teaching to one’s disciple—that was something she deeply envied. At least for herself, she could not imagine the day when she would be able to say the same.
“To raise a truly excellent successor... That is every teacher’s dream.”
“Indeed. For me, Sansui was that dream.”
Suiboku spoke proudly, but there he drew the line. As reluctant as he was, he could not stay here forever.
“Then, stay well.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The headmaster watched as he left the room, her expression filled with complex emotions.
“To think even he would leave me behind.”
Because of her age, she had already seen off many friends. And now, she found herself seeing off even an immortal sage—an experience that stirred something deep within her.
In the Batterabbe Realm, Saiga Mizu was spending his days in constant busyness as the next head of the house. It wasn’t that he wasn’t keeping up with his swordsmanship training, but when he did, he generally used an ordinary sword. As a result, the strongest divine sword, Eckesachs, saw almost no use and simply remained on display. But even being displayed held meaning—it represented the authority of the Batterabbe family. Because she understood and took pride in that, she felt no dissatisfaction whatsoever. That attitude was, perhaps, the soul of a sword rather than a human.
Day after day, many people came to stand before her as she rested on display. But this time, only one person stood before her.
“Eckesachs.”
“Suiboku.”
Her partner of a thousand years—Suiboku. With his faintly ephemeral air, he appeared before her without a sound. She already knew why he had come. And because of that, she welcomed him calmly, unlike in the past when she might have been shaken.
“You’re being displayed with great care. I’m glad to see it.”
“You’re the last person who should say that. You left me stuck in some random rock for fifteen hundred years.”
“I’ll apologize for the random rock, but you’re the one who refused to choose a master for fifteen hundred years.”
“Hmph... I kept waiting, thinking you might come back for me someday.”
“My apologies.”
A quiet, somewhat somber air lingered for a while. But the two of them brushed it aside together. Neither wanted their final farewell to end in such a mood. This time, they wanted to part on mutual understanding—smiling instead of grieving.
“I plan to return to my homeland and end my life there.”
“I see... So even you will soon be finished. I thought you might continue your pursuit forever, like that Great Tengu...”
“Hah, I could never measure up to the Great Tengu. Well? Will you be lonely when I’m gone?”
“Nonsense, boy. I’ve lived more than twice as long as you. Parting with one person won’t make me lonely now.”
“That so? Then I’m relieved. Get along well with Saiga.”
“Of course. Unlike you, he’s a fine master! You don’t need to tell me that.”
“Yeah... Sorry I couldn’t be a better master. Farewell, Eckesachs. Give my regards to the other Sacred Treasures.”
With a swish!, Suiboku vanished using Flash Step, the instant-step technique. He never used it in his daily life, so this was unusual. But Eckesachs understood why he had done such a strange thing. She almost laughed—so even the strongest man in the world had his cute moments.
“Hmph. As if I’d be lonely.”
Yes—she almost laughed. She absolutely was not on the verge of tears. She could not bring herself to admit such a thing. Both he and she had wanted to part with a smile.
Using Flash Step, Suiboku traveled in an instant from the royal capital to Batterabbe, and from Batterabbe to Sepaeda. It was an overwhelming range of movement—on a completely different scale from what Sansui could achieve. Having accomplished this, Suiboku headed toward his beloved disciple. He had told Sansui in advance that he wanted Sansui to accompany him on his final journey, so the preparations should already have been made. He felt guilty about separating the newlyweds so soon after their marriage, but at most it would take half a month. As the final time he would spend with his disciple, he chose to ask for their understanding.
“Well then, have I kept you waiting, Sansui? It seems you’ve prepared... But what’s wrong?”
Suiboku had appeared in front of the Wynne household and was greeted by the Shirokuro family, but except for Fanne, the whole family wore dark expressions. It was hard to believe that they had just held such a wonderful wedding.
“Master, you know that I traveled around various parts of Sepaeda, yes?”
“You were visiting the places where your students had taken up post, no? What of it?”
“It seems the people there went out of their way to crush various sword schools that were using my name without permission. But then the townsfolk began saying things like, ‘Sansui Shirokuro had all the impostors in the country killed.’”
“Oh?”
“They’re even going so far as to say my wedding with Blois was a blood-soaked wedding...”
“Hmm. So your special day has been tarnished.”
Sansui had always been the subject of fierce rumors. That was because he accepted brutal jobs—and the rumors had substance behind them. For that reason, everyone seemed to believe what they heard.
“I’m very sorry, Blois. This must be disappointing for you.”
“Yes... It is.”
The three of them were dispirited for a reason entirely different from what Suiboku had expected. And so, with expressions so gloomy one couldn’t tell who was the one heading off to die, the master and disciple set out on their journey.