Translator: AkazaTL Pr/Ed: Sol IX
***
“Please… regain your senses.”
I had poured out every bit of 「Radiance’s」power. I had desperately called upon my swords to help me, and I had fought fiercely against the enemies who tried to cut off my breath in the storming sea. By doing so, I finally reached the dragon’s jaw. But my sword was still not sharp enough, and my body was still not strong enough.
“Young master, please wake up.”
One scale. All I managed was one scale.
“You must not fall asleep, young master.”
I had failed to deal a fatal wound to that dragon. I had barely touched it with my sword before being helplessly seized. When the dragon’s claws gripped my shoulder—when it held me tight—I felt it clearly. The overwhelming gap between us. Had it simply squeezed harder, my body would have shattered instantly. My journey would have ended right there. Escaping? Impossible. I felt like a child caught in the hands of a giant. It felt as though I had gone back to before I ever held a sword.
“Please… please wake up.”
The moment the Swordmaster visited my territory. The moment Carlos stole away my people, when I was too young and trembling to even attempt proper revenge. I felt like I had returned to that moment. The helplessness was horrifying, and the trauma unforgettable. An unbearable rage rose within me. A truly massive fury.
“Young master!”
Tom’s voice struck my ears. Hearing the cracked voice of the old man, I woke up.
“Tom……”
Where am I? Holding onto my faint mind, I looked around and saw soil. Not seawater—soil. The fine sand of a beach, a crab crawling across it. As I stared blankly around, Tom threw himself at me. I smelled blood from Tom. His elderly body was clearly in terrible condition. Even so, Tom worried only for me.
“Thank goodness… truly, thank goodness.”
Tom shed tears unbefitting an old man. Watching him sob somehow made all the strength drain out of me. Lying on the sand, I looked up at the sky. But the sky looked strange.
“……Tom.”
“Yes.”
“Where… are we?”
Instead of clouds and sunlight, the sky reflected the sea. I wondered if it was a hallucination, but soon realized that the sky was reflecting us—like a mirror.
“I’m not certain, but…”
“But?”
“I think… I know.”
Tom looked up at the sky as well. And then he said:
“It seems we’ve entered ‘Ernest’.”
***
As soon as I recovered my senses, I inspected the small island Tom suspected to be “Ernest.” It was an uninhabited island—small enough to circle in twenty minutes at a casual pace. Only tiny creatures lived here: crabs walking along the beach, buzzing insects, and small fish briefly leaping from the water. Aside from those small lives, only we existed here.
Once I recovered a bit, I chopped down trees on the beach to make a small boat.
After inheriting the old adventurer’s memories within 「Flight」, my ability to craft necessities using natural materials had improved tremendously. Making a small sailboat from dried wood was as easy as breathing. So before night fell, I completed the boat and attempted to set out to sea.
And failed.
“What… is this?”
The boat, sailing smoothly along the waves, suddenly turned and drifted back toward the island. Thinking I had made a mistake navigating, I next attempted to swim instead of using the boat.
But the same thing happened—I returned to the exact same point.
Only then I understood.
Just as running around that tiny island always brought me back to the same spot, the sea surrounding the island was itself a small, closed world. Like a hamster running in a wheel, endlessly circling in place. After experiencing this phenomenon, I understood why the sky looked the way it did. Even if I tried to shoot upward toward the sky, the same thing would happen.
“Well.”
We hadn’t simply entered Ernest.
We were trapped inside Ernest.
‘……This isn’t a Mystery at all.’
I tried igniting the Flame of Doubt. I tried slicing this mirrored world using Polished Light. But nothing worked. This small world remained a small world. Just as a sword could not cut water, it could not cut the world.
“Young master, don’t push yourself too hard.”
“But…”
“…How about resting for a moment?”
After countless failures, Tom suggested we rest. I was about to refuse, but seeing Tom’s unusually exhausted face, I closed my mouth. The elderly steward looked noticeably pale. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and panting, Tom soon collapsed onto the sand.
“Tom—what’s wrong?”
I rushed to him and removed his soaked clothes. The old steward’s body had broken down. His aged body bore countless wounds, and none showed signs of healing—they had worsened. Blackened, dead flesh. Rotting skin giving off the scent of death. And that wasn’t all. Tom’s body had many wounds—not from the recent battle, but old wounds. Traces of the life he had lived. Scars left by blades and blood.
“What… is this…”
“……Please don’t mind it too much.”
“How… how did it get this bad?”
“Bad? All old swordsmen are like this. Those who failed to die gloriously while young and brave live like this. Old, broken bodies sewn back together, barely moving.”
Tom panted. Soon, Liam’s voice echoed.
「It isn’t to spare you worry.」
“……”
「That is the end of an old swordsman, young descendant.」
The end of an old swordsman. That was what Liam said.
「The Steel Heart within a Karavan grows stronger the more it is struck. No matter how many battles it fights, no matter how often it shatters, it reforges itself into a stronger shape.」
“……”
「But not everyone possesses that.」
In countless knightly tales, the protagonists duel again and again, gambling their lives. In such stories, duels serve as fertilizer for growth, as the path to higher realms. And so many people fall into the illusion—that after every battle, every war, every victory, only growth remains.
But that is wrong.
「Every creature in nature avoids fighting unless starving. Muscles and bones are expendable resources, and each life-risking fight only hastens one’s destined death.」
“……”
「Those who do not transcend cannot escape that law of nature.」
Swords, red blood. And after victory—there are always wounds. For those without a Steel Heart, wounds do not heal easily. And in the body of an old man—they heal even less. Tom was dying. Were the wounds from the recent battle killing him? One could say so, but fundamentally, no.
All humans begin dying the moment they are born. Since first appearing in this world, slowly, gradually, they die. The end of an old swordsman is never bright. As though demanding the price for all the blood spilled by their blades, time makes their twilight harsher. Wounds do not heal; old scars bite deep.
“Young master Arhan.”
The old man looked at me.
“I fear this old man can no longer wield a sword.”
“……”
“My body is too worn, and too many parts have already failed. Before long, this old body will collapse and return to earth. It is natural. Old ones must return to the soil—for the young, for the new.”
I looked at the old man.
“But I still have time left.”
“……”
“I don’t know how long. But I don’t want to spend that time swinging a sword. Truth is, young master… perhaps I was never meant to wield a sword in the first place.”
“……”
“Young master Arhan, you showed me a dream. A dream so sweet and brilliant that it makes this old man want to live longer. It makes my worn-out heart beat again.”
Tom spoke with difficulty.
“Young master Arhan, to your eyes, this place must look like a labyrinth. A world with no exit. But to me… it does not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Armor granted to Sword Experts—its unbreachable power does more than defend. All Sword Experts have the ability to see through shells and pierce the essence of things.”
Tom exhaled softly.
“I’m only a half-formed Expert, yet even I can see the truth of this place. But with an unfinished Armor and this broken body, I cannot wield a sword anymore. But you, young master—you can.”
The old steward slowly lifted his head.
“When fighting the Sacred Beasts and the dragon… what did you feel, young master?”
“……I felt rage.”
“You must have. Helplessness, limitation—the unbearable rage toward those born superior who trample others without care. I felt it too.”
Tom smiled faintly.
“I picked up a sword because of the dragons. I forged Armor at a young age because of the dragons. I lived consumed by rage, chasing them all my life.”
“……”
“Revenge and rage are powerful emotions. But rage burns one’s soul to ash. My soul burned away long ago, leaving only dust—until I found what I truly loved.”
Tom’s eyes gleamed.
“Once, young master told me the story of Karavan. What made you this strong must be rage—and vengeance. But young master… let this old man, who has drifted across the sea of life for so long, say one thing.”
“……”
“You can never transcend through vengeance alone. Not transcendence, not even the forging of a complete Armor—never.”
On the small island reached at the end of drifting, the old man opened his mouth.
“Please take my sword, young master.”
He drew the rapier from his waist. Tom’s rapier, well-maintained as befitting a steward, yet visibly worn by time. The sword resembled Tom’s life—seemingly intact on the surface, but showing harsh traces only when seen closely.
“I feel it instinctively. If you eat my sword, I will no longer be able to wield any blade. Everything I built, the entire path I walked, will flow into you. A part of my soul will be inherited by you.”
“……”
“But I can gladly give my soul to you.”
Tom spoke sincerely. Losing his sword meant losing everything he had built—death as a swordsman. But when I looked into his eyes, I realized something. Tom’s essence was not that of a swordsman. He did not love strength. Nor his victories.
“Do you remember what I told you before?”
Tom was a steward of the Hall of Honor. He loved the blades of distant ages. He loved the heroes of history, and their lives.
“You wouldn’t know how grateful I am.”
Even if he lost the sword he built with a lifetime, Tom would not die. Even if the Sword Expert became an ordinary, swordless old man—his soul would not disappear. Never.
“I simply wish to do anything for you, young master.”
Tom’s eyes shone, not like an old man, but like a boy.
I understood why his eyes burned so brightly. Because he had witnessed 「Radiance」. Because he had seen the souls of swords—once only glimpsed in fragments—appear across time. Seeing that dream made real, the old steward regained the desire to live. For that dream, he could offer anything. Truly, anything.
“So please… take my sword.”
“……”
“For this old man, it is an honor.”
I looked at Tom’s gentle smile.
Then from Tom’s lips, a familiar line slipped out.
“For some reason… I feel you will leave your name in the history of this continent.”
A line I could never forget.
The final words left behind by my kind neighbor who left before me.
Chapter 208: Chapter 208
9 min read