Chapter 1 — A Wedding Soaked in Blood

Part 1 — Report

At the recent joint wedding ceremony, Black Oseo had hurled abusive words at Magyan Tahlan. Feeling that their formally welcomed groom had been insulted, the Sepaeda family sent Sansui Shirokuro as retribution, and the kingdom of Oseo was left half destroyed.

News of the event spread throughout the entire Arcana Kingdom, but few took it seriously.

“There’s no way a single human could be that strong. The nobles just want to glorify their pet swordsman—but they’re laying it on a bit too thick.”

Such was the general attitude within the country, and the incident never became a major public uproar.

Those who did take it seriously were mostly the ones who had witnessed it directly—that is to say, the people of Oseo who had suffered the invasion, and the leaders of the great nations who had watched from their airships. They had seen true power with their own eyes, and in doing so, had come to know their own smallness.

As for those who believed the stories of Sansui’s heroics without witnessing them firsthand—they were few, mostly people close to him. Even so, believing was one thing; being glad about it was another.

“So, that’s what happened... I went and toppled a kingdom.”

“You went too far...”

“That’s awful, papa.”

Sansui had returned to Blois’s family home. There, he told his wife and children everything that had happened. In Blois’s room, seated calmly in a chair, he recounted the events as accurately as he could. He was the kind of father who could come home and confide in his family when work upset him. It just so happened that his work involved killing people.

“I can’t say the lord’s decision was wrong, but carrying it out so completely... That’s another matter.”

“You’re right.”

Many excuses came to Sansui’s mind, but he couldn’t deny her point. At the very least, Blois’s words were based in ordinary, human values. Even the head of the Sepaeda family himself had admitted it—this had been a brutal, excessive act of vengeance. If anything, it would have been far more frightening if Blois had praised him with a “Well done.”

“Honestly, I think part of me was angry too.”

At the wedding, Prince Black of Oseo had said to Tahlan: “If the Magyan Kingdom really exists, and you really are a prince...you should be back in your country, doing your absolute best for them! Not here, in a faraway land! Even if you are to wed, it should be with someone from a neighboring country! Even though you’re a prince, you’re going against the interests of your nation just by being here! You aren’t a prince! You’re nothing!”

Sansui had heard every word. And he had to admit—there was some truth in what the prince had said. Even Princess Setenve had voiced similar doubts before the ceremony had begun, and Tahlan himself must have had conflicted feelings about it.

But still, it wasn’t something an unrelated outsider had any right to say. Both nations had recognized the marriage; a third party had no business interfering.

And to say such things in the middle of the ceremony, solely to humiliate the groom—that crossed every line.

“When I saw Prince Tahlan’s face, so full of sorrow... I don’t think I could have stayed calm.”

Whatever political motives existed, that wedding was meant to mark the beginning of Tahlan and Douve’s new life together. And Prince Black had trampled all over that moment—with both Sansui and the Sepaeda family’s lord watching.

“I know what I did was terrible. But...I couldn’t just let it go.”

The envoy from Magyan had told them that if the prince married so far away, their kingdom would be powerless to protect him. And yet, the envoy had also said to Tahlan himself: “If such a strong warrior stands by your side, if such a great man supports you, then you’ll surely be all right.”

“For the sake of those who came all the way from Magyan...I had to show my strength.”

It had been he himself who had inspired that expectation—and so, he had felt compelled to live up to it.

“I suppose that’s what duty really means,” Blois said, reluctantly convinced.

The ceremony had also served as a formal establishment of relations with the kingdom of Magyan. If that had been disgraced, then perhaps such overwhelming retaliation was, in its way, justified. And now that she was a mother herself, she could understand the personal aspect more deeply as well.

If Fanne or Lain—her daughters—were ever humiliated like that in their future marriages... The thought alone made her chest ache. If the in-laws did nothing in response, she would surely go and bring her child home herself. And as both mother and newly married wife, Blois, slightly embarrassed, asked her husband a timid question:

“S-Sansui...when we have our own wedding ceremony...if someone were to insult me, would you fight for me the same way?”

“Of course I would,” Sansui answered without hesitation.

It was the kind of conversation only newlyweds could have—a quiet, strangely tender moment between husband and wife.

“I don’t like that kind of wedding...”

Their daughter expressed her dislike quite plainly.

“It’s supposed to be a happy ceremony, but if papa goes and puts a bunch of people’s heads on pikes, that’s just awful...”

“You’re right...”

“Lain’s a smart girl,” Blois said. “She’s saying all the right things.”

The best outcome, of course, was for the ceremony to end without incident, exactly as planned. Nobody wanted a blood-soaked wedding.

“Papa, that kind of thing won’t happen at your and Mama Blois’s wedding, right?”

“Well, it doesn’t usually happen at any wedding... But, yeah, I think we’ll be fine.”

“Right, it doesn’t usually happen,” Blois said. “So why did it happen that time?”

Both Sansui and Blois were serious-minded people; they couldn’t begin to understand what sort of fool would shout insults at a wedding. Complaining in private at home was one thing, but to start yelling in public was beyond comprehension.

“Why won’t you just say, ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine’?”

“Because, Lain, idiots exist everywhere. The world’s full of people like that...”

“Then do something about it!”

Lain had a point. Instead of complaining, they really should start thinking about precautions. But since this was a matter of basic common sense, countermeasures were difficult. It wasn’t as if they could write ‘Please refrain from insulting the bride and groom’ on the invitations. And even if they did, those who wanted to cause trouble would do it anyway.

“What if we wrote, ‘Anyone who insults the couple will incur the wrath of Lord Sepaeda’?”

“That’d be meaningless now...”

Few people believed the rumor that it had been Sansui alone who’d brought down an entire kingdom, but regardless of how it really happened, no one doubted that the head of the Sepaeda family had sanctioned the matter afterward. Which meant that anyone who dared to insult Sansui or Blois now would be a fool brave—or stupid—enough to defy even Sepaeda itself.

And that was precisely what Prince Black had been.

“At this point, we might as well limit the guest list—just close family, your relatives, and my students.”

“Good idea. That way, at least, we won’t have any idiots.”

Either they could meticulously curate the guest list with only those who could be trusted not to do anything foolish, or they could keep the ceremony small enough that only family need be invited. The guest list would shrink, and the wedding would be modest—but neither of them cared much for appearances anyway.

“I’ll talk it over with father and the others,” Blois said.

“Right. And I’ll speak with my master... My master... My— Oh no...”

At that point, the two of them groaned and buried their faces in their hands. There was one man they couldn’t possibly leave out: Suiboku, Sansui’s master—and the most dangerous man in the world. As long as Suiboku attended, the wedding would carry an ever-present risk of national collapse. Granted, Sansui himself was hardly any safer, but Suiboku was far more short-tempered and proud, and immeasurably stronger.

“If something did happen, he’d probably shout, ‘How dare you disrupt my disciple’s wedding!’ and get right into a fight,” Lain said.

She, too, knew what kind of man Suiboku was, and she had reached the same grim conclusion. They couldn’t afford even the slightest disturbance. The cheerful warmth that had filled the Shirokuro family moments before was gone, replaced by a palpable tension.

But then again, perhaps a high percentage of weddings in the world were like that, more full of anxious effort to make sure nothing went wrong than of simple happiness.

Part 2 — Consultation

Now that Sansui had returned home, the members of the Wynne family gathered together to hold a proper discussion about the wedding. The plan was for the Shirokuro family and Blois’s parents and siblings to meet and work out the concrete details. Once everyone was assembled in the mansion’s grand hall, Sansui began by sharing the conclusion he and his wife had reached.

“We’d like to keep the ceremony as small as possible, limited to close family. From my side, I’ll invite only Master Suiboku and my sword students. If you could keep it to about the same number on your side...”

“What? Blois, are you really fine with that?”

It was Chette who cried out in surprise. Being, in many ways, a typical woman, she seemed startled that Sansui wanted such a modest wedding.

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime ceremony, isn’t it? And you have the budget for it—why not do it in style?”

“U-Uh...”

It was such a reasonable and cheerful suggestion that Blois found herself at a loss for words. Truthfully, she didn’t dislike the idea of a grand wedding either.

“Um... Master Sansui, I hesitate to say this, but you’re not pressuring my sister into this, are you?”

Seeing her sister’s hesitant reaction, Chette cautiously admonished Sansui. A groom who completely ignored the bride’s wishes hardly seemed proper. As an older sister, it was only natural for her to speak up.

“That’s not it, sister... I do long for a beautiful ceremony too, but...after what happened at the last wedding, I just think it would be inappropriate for us, who are under Sepaeda’s banner, to hold something so extravagant...”

Blois’s words were deliberately roundabout, but they conveyed the couple’s underlying concern.

“I don’t think Lord Sepaeda would object to you two having a happy wedding, though,” Chette replied.

That’s...true, actually.

To that, Sansui, Blois, and even Lain silently agreed. If they tried to make it even larger than the previous joint wedding, Sepaeda’s lord would surely tell them they were out of their minds, but within the bounds of a normal ceremony, he likely wouldn’t complain. Especially since this marriage had the lord’s official blessing; if they didn’t do it properly, they might even get scolded for it.

“Chette’s right,” said Hetter, the heir to the Wynne family headship. “And it’s quite rude not to invite people you’re normally close to. If you cut down the guest list too much, it could sour future relations.”

That was a reasonable point. If a family you were close to held a wedding and didn’t invite you, you’d certainly feel slighted. Even if the bride and groom weren’t close to certain households—or perhaps especially if they weren’t—those people would expect an invitation. Not being invited could be interpreted as an unspoken signal that the hosts had no wish to maintain friendly relations. And “we didn’t mean it that way” wouldn’t fix the insult.

“You understand that too, don’t you, Blois? You’d feel bad if a close friend didn’t invite you to her wedding.”

“Brother, I don’t have any close friends.”

Blois’s flat response instantly dampened the mood.

“Ah...I’m sorry. I don’t have anyone to invite either...”

Sansui spoke up as if to preempt any pity they might direct at her. He and Blois shared nearly the same circle of acquaintances—meaning none at all in ordinary society—and so they suffered equally when such topics arose.

It wasn’t that they knew no one, but most of the people they did know were nobles or high-ranking officials who couldn’t realistically be invited. Their social circles were narrow and skewed toward authority. It had never really bothered them—until now.

“Excuse me...?”

“What?”

Hetter and Chette exchanged baffled looks.

If the two had been living as recluses deep in the woods, like Sansui once had, it might make sense—but as functioning members of society, how could they have no friends?

“Wait, seriously? Normally, you meet people at parties, get to know them, find common interests, and before long you’re complaining about the same things together—that’s what friends are.”

“Exactly! Surely you have at least someone like that. Someone of similar birth and upbringing, maybe a little different, and you compare those tiny differences and—well, that’s friendship!”

They weren’t talking about dramatic, oath-bound friendships, but the kind of ordinary adult relationships that mixed a little sincerity with a little pettiness.

“No... There’s really only Sansui.”

“And for me, it’s basically Blois.”

After all, the two of them had served together as Princess Douve’s bodyguards for years—just the two of them. Their isolation from normal social life had been unavoidable.

“Oh, Blois... You’ve really been through so much...”

“All this time, working for the family, never even having the chance to make friends...”

Her parents looked at her with sympathetic eyes. And in truth, they weren’t wrong.

“Come on, Chette, Hetter, stop saying silly things.”

At that point, the youngest sister, Lyra, could no longer stand it.

“You’ve completely ruined the atmosphere! How are we supposed to talk about the wedding when the bride and groom are depressed and our parents are crying?”

“Sorry.”

“My apologies.”

Lyra hadn’t wanted to take charge—after all, the newlyweds were supposed to be the stars of the discussion—but her elder siblings had been so tactless that the mood was beyond repair. She decided she had to take matters into her own hands and quickly steered the meeting back on track.

“Anyway, if Blois and Master Sansui want to limit the guest list, then let’s do it that way. You can still have a gorgeous ceremony even with fewer people.”

She began by addressing Chette’s earlier point. Even with a small guest list, they could still make the setting elegant with lavish decorations or a high-class venue.

“And as for not slighting close acquaintances, you can visit them beforehand or invite them to something like a party before the wedding. People might complain if you do it after, but if you do it before, they’ll probably let it slide.”

That addressed Hetter’s concern as well. If not inviting them to the ceremony was the best option, then greeting them in advance was the next best thing. It might be troublesome, and some might still grumble a bit, but not enough to cause a fuss.

“Then just invite the Wynne family, Chette’s in-laws, and Hetter’s wife’s relatives—and that’s it! That should be enough.”

“Oh... That’s so simple.”

“Lyra, you’re brilliant.”

The bride and groom applauded the youngest sister’s quick thinking. It would take some extra effort, but it was a practical compromise—minimizing risk while keeping up appearances. Perhaps there were other possible plans, but this one was more than sufficient.

“Though there’s one thing I’m still confused about,” Lyra added. “Master Sansui, how many people are you actually planning to invite?”

“Eh? Oh, just a few close students, I suppose...”

“But aren’t you the Grand Instructor of Warfare? Doesn’t that mean all the instructors under the Sepaeda family are technically your students?”

“I...had better double-check that.”

The title Grand Instructor of Warfare was something Sansui held in name, but he had yet to start the actual duties. He was supposed to oversee the instructors who trained the nobles and provide them with advanced lessons to further improve their skills. Exactly how that was meant to work, however, he still didn’t know. Would he summon each instructor to his home? Travel to their estates? Or do both? Would he only train those who requested it personally—or those whose lords requested it?

I may have accepted this job a little too lightly...

It was only then that Sansui realized—his new position was basically a management role. And as that fact sank in, he found himself quietly regretting it.

Part 3 — Discussion

“Hey, Blois... Who exactly should I invite, and how many?”

“What’s this all of a sudden? Just invite the students you personally trained.”

“That was my first thought, but...the more I think about it, the more it seems I ought to invite all the sword instructors as well.”

“You say that so easily, but most of the instructors are elderly men who used to hold high positions. Calling on people like that without even knowing them isn’t exactly polite, you know.”

“I see... Then perhaps I should go around and greet them myself before the wedding—something like an introductory visit in my new post?”

“When do you plan to hold this wedding, exactly? We’re practically married already, and we even have Fanne! I know it’s only ceremonial, but still! I want to have the ceremony soon! I’ve been waiting two years—ever since you went to Magyan!”

“Uh...”

“Unlike you, I’m not immortal! I’m not so selfish as to complain about how long it’s taken, but honestly, it’s time to start the countdown!”

“Y-Yeah...you’re right.”

Overwhelmed by Blois’s intensity, Sansui fell silent. She was right—planning a wedding and then delaying it for months just to arrange the details would be ridiculous.

“This isn’t what you two should be talking about right now!” Their daughter scolded them sharply.

At that moment, the three of them were supposed to be discussing Blois’s bridal gown.

As nobles, they couldn’t simply “put on a nice dress and call it a wedding.” The gown had to be made from scratch, tailored specifically for Blois. That day, they had called in the Wynne family’s personal tailor to decide on the design.

“There are lots of choices! Focus!”

“R-Right... Sansui started talking nonsense and got me all worked up.”

“Sorry.”

“Papa, you should act like you did when you got that treasure from Magyan! You were so cool then!”

Lain had burned that image into her memory—the moment her father had stood proudly before everyone, calm and dignified.

“I-I’ll do my best...”

“Yes, me too...”

Once you pull something off successfully even once, everyone expects you to do it again. Both of them wanted to live up to their daughter’s expectations, but neither was confident they could.

“Um, if you two are ready, shall we begin?”

“Oh—yes, sorry!”

“Then please, take a look through these. I hope something here suits your taste.”

The tailor opened a thick catalog of bridal gowns. They had looked at such catalogs before, but seeing it now—with her own wedding in mind—made Blois’s heart race. She flipped through the pages excitedly. Since several outfit changes were planned, choosing would take some time.

“Mama Blois, look! This one’s beautiful!”

“Y-Yeah... It really is...”

Lain leaned in, fascinated. Watching them, Sansui smiled softly, then remembered something else he wanted to ask.

“Actually, aside from the main gown, I’d like to request a Magyan-style bridal outfit as well. I’ve brought sketches. It doesn’t have to be perfect—just as close as you can manage.”

“The Magyan Kingdom... That’s the distant nation that recently opened relations with us, isn’t it? Hmm...”

The tailor looked intrigued as he studied the sketches. The unfamiliar culture seemed to have stirred his professional curiosity. Sansui felt relieved. If the man had balked at foreign designs, they would have had to find someone else.

“I also brought the cloth. If possible, I’d like the outfit made from this fabric.”

Sansui handed over the bolt of cloth, a gift from the king of Magyan himself. Even to an untrained eye, it was exquisite. But the tailor’s reaction was anything but calm.

“Wh-What... What is this fabric?!”

“It was a gift from the king of Magyan.”

“The king of Magyan? They have such material there? In all my years as a craftsman, I’ve never seen—never even heard—of anything like this!”

The fabric’s quality was so extraordinary that the man physically stepped back in shock.

It was understandable—something from a foreign royal treasury could hardly be ordinary.

“Surely my humble skills are not worthy of cutting such cloth!”

“Ah...I see.”

“Please forgive me! My hands would defile it!”

It seemed it was like holding a massive uncut gemstone and being asked to make the first strike. His hands trembled not from incompetence, but from reverence.

“Please... Entrust this fabric to someone truly worthy.”

“Very well.”

Sansui accepted the fabric again, at a loss for words. He could hardly argue with that kind of sincerity.

After returning the cloth, the tailor took his catalog and left, refusing the commission entirely. He said, “I could never produce a gown fit to stand beside such material.”

It was understandable—but inconvenient. They hadn’t been asking for something miraculous, only something wearable. Now things had become complicated. No artisan in the Wynne territory was more skilled than their own official tailor. That left only one option.

Sansui carefully repacked the cloth and hurried to the Sepaeda estate to seek advice from Douve Sepaeda and her husband, Magyan Tahlan.

“My lord, my lady—no one in the Wynne domain is capable of working with this fabric. I humbly ask for your guidance.”

Technically, they could simply choose not to use the cloth. But Blois was looking forward to it, and Sansui himself didn’t want to let such a treasure sit unused.

“I see,” Tahlan said, smiling despite the trouble. His expression wasn’t bothered—it was delighted.

“My, Tahlan, you seem awfully pleased,” Douve said. “Is it so amusing that dear Blois has nothing to wear?”

“Ha ha, not at all. I’m only happy that my homeland, the Magyan Kingdom, isn’t inferior to Arcana in every respect.”

Douve’s teasing expression softened into a fond smile. “Oh, you’re right. Your father would be proud to hear that.”

“If only our envoy hadn’t already departed... The craftspeople back home would have been overjoyed to know how their work was received.”

The couple exchanged pleased glances, utterly content. Meanwhile, Sansui—still kneeling—could only wait for them to finish their affectionate chatter. After a moment, Tahlan sobered.

“Still, it won’t do to leave you in difficulty. My father would wish the bride to shine in the cloth he sent...but calling in our own craftsmen from Magyan would be impractical.”

“Indeed,” said Douve. “It would make Arcana look as though we can do nothing but fight. We can’t have that. So...”

A spark lit in her eyes.

“We’ll hold an open call for tailors across Sepaeda. The best artisan will be chosen to craft Blois’s gown.”

Sansui bowed deeply. “That would be an honor. Blois and Lain will be thrilled.”

“It’s only proper. To take a royal gift and handle it carelessly would be an insult to His Majesty. As nobles, we must answer such trust with our best.”

Douve could be proud, but her sense of duty was impeccable—and in moments like this, she was entirely reliable.

“Oh, and...let’s make a bit of a show of it, shall we?”

“A show?”

“Of course. This will be the first bridal gown in Arcana ever made from Magyan cloth. In the fashion world, that’s historic. We might as well make it memorable.”

Now Sansui understood her excitement. Such a dress would probably be preserved, perhaps even displayed someday.

“We won’t open it to artisans all over the kingdom—just from the city here. A modest competition, nothing more.”

“In that case, I shall bring Blois along. She should have a say in the design.”

“Yes. Go back and fetch her while we make the arrangements.”

It was turning into a grand affair, but if it made Blois and Lain happy, Sansui didn’t mind. He bowed once more. “Then, I leave it in your hands.”

When Sansui returned home and explained everything, Blois and Lain reacted in opposite ways.

“That’s...way too extravagant...” Blois blushed furiously.

“That’s amazing! It’s going to be the prettiest dress ever!” Lain clapped her hands.

Still, both of them shared the same feeling—a swelling excitement for the gown that was yet to come. Soon after, the Shirokuro family set out together for Sepaeda to reconvene with Douve and Tahlan.

“I knew we’d be paying our respects sooner or later,” Sansui mused, “but I didn’t expect it to be quite like this.”

“Fanne’s coming too! I bet they’ll be so happy to see her!”

“Yeah, they will.”

The carriage rocked gently as it carried them toward the city. They were all content—no problems on the horizon, only a bright future ahead. They laughed, relaxed, and believed nothing could go wrong. But that belief was merely the limit of their imagination.

The first to sense that something had indeed gone wrong was, of course, Sansui.

“Hmm?”

His refined senses as an Immortal picked up a disturbance.

“What is it, Sansui? You look pale.”

“Papa?”

Sansui’s expression grew troubled. Blois and Lain immediately knew something was off.

“We’re getting close to Douve and Tahlan’s castle. I can already feel the town’s presence...but the energy there—it’s far greater than before.”

Had it been a sign of war, Sansui would already have leaped from the carriage to restore order, but this was something else. Chaotic, yes, but not dangerous.

“Maybe there’s a festival?”

“Not that I know of,” Blois said. “Though, in Sepaeda, festivals do tend to appear out of nowhere.”

“No... This is different. The excitement—it’s almost madness.”

As the carriage drew nearer, even Blois and Lain began to feel it. The air was thick with heat, with voices, with life.

“This is incredible,” Blois murmured.

“Yeah... What could be happening?”

Sepaeda’s capital was a great city, second only to the royal one. The three of them knew its every street and season, yet never had they felt such feverish energy.

They couldn’t imagine the cause—never once suspecting that they themselves were the reason for all the uproar.

Part 4 — Competition

Now then, let’s go back to the joint wedding ceremony that took place not so long ago. That wedding had been a grand event that brought together all the power and resources of Arcana, and naturally, people of culture from every region had gathered to attend. What they saw before their eyes were the many gifts sent from the kingdom of Magyan—and it was their splendor that struck them most deeply.

The people who were supposed to be impressed—the foreign dignitaries—were in fact far less astonished than the nation’s own citizens; those well-bred men and women could only think, “How magnificent this is!”

Carpets, garments, goldwork—those who bought such goods to decorate their homes or to wear, thought no more than, “Ah, that’s lovely,” or perhaps, “I should buy one of those myself.”

But the ones who actually created such works—or those who understood how difficult they were to make—felt something entirely different.

Displayed before them were the gifts the kingdom of Magyan had sent with all its pride on the line. Confronted with those flawless works, they could not imagine themselves ever producing their like. If a client were to ask them to make something “in the Magyan style,” they were certain it would end up as nothing more than a cheap imitation to fool the untrained eye.

It was foolish, of course, to speak of culture in terms of superiority or inferiority—yet they could not help but feel a deep sense of defeat. The artisans and critics who’d gathered from all over the kingdom of Arcana felt themselves bested by a faraway land they had barely even heard of: the kingdom of Magyan.

One might say that, in their own quiet way, these foreign craftsmen were repaying the humiliation their kingdom had suffered when Magyan’s spirit-possessed warrior was defeated.

Yet, not everyone was left trembling in shame. Many clothing artisans, deeply moved by the Magyan bridal attire worn by Douve and Happine, found themselves thinking, I want to make something like that myself.

They burned the image of the two brides’ wedding gowns into their memories and brought sketches back to their own workshops, determined to recreate them. But it was no use. They could imitate the design and surface appearance, but the materials themselves were entirely different.

Of course, the first obstacle was the fabric—it simply couldn’t be obtained. Even if they managed to procure something somewhat similar, the results were far too different from the images seared into their minds. Having seen the very best with their own eyes, they could no longer call anything so inferior a “finished work.”

And yet, traveling all the way to Magyan was impossible for ordinary people. The bolts of cloth that had been gifted to Arcana were already stored away as national treasures, sealed within the royal archives.

Even artisans who served the four great noble houses—or indeed, those directly under the king’s command—were not permitted to put scissors to such cloth.

Everyone understood that perfectly well. Still, they wanted that fabric.

It wasn’t that they wished to wear it themselves, nor to sell it to someone else. They simply wanted to create something of their own using the finest fabric in the world. Precisely because they were master craftsmen, that creative urge burned within them all the stronger. And so, they began searching for any way to make it happen.

Perhaps they could travel with the Magyan delegation when it returned home. Or perhaps they could visit the family of one of the magi stationed in Magyan as an instructor. In any case, they were relentless—desperate to find some way, any way, to form a connection to Magyan.

Then a certain piece of information drew their attention. It was said that Sansui Shirokuro and the Silver Demon Style user, Ran, had each been personally gifted the finest of Magyan fabrics. Moreover, Sansui himself was soon to be married.

This information wasn’t secret—far from it. It had been officially announced by Sepaeda—another display of the special treatment afforded to the man known as the Young Blademaster—and anyone who looked into it could easily confirm it.

From there, the rest was simply prediction.

Since Sansui had been gifted such fabric, he would surely wish to use it for his bride’s gown. But the tailors serving the Wynne family alone wouldn’t meet his standards. So naturally, he would turn to his connections and commission Sepaeda for the task. And the Sepaeda family was known for its creed of competition. Surely, they reasoned, Sepaeda would at least have the master artisans of the capital compete against one another.

With that hope-tinged speculation in their hearts, the nation’s finest craftsmen made their way to Sepaeda. When they arrived and saw the official notice issued by Douve, they realized their prediction had been correct. The artisans gathered in Sepaeda at that time had, in effect, earned the right to step into the ring of competition.

In other words, though Douve had merely issued a public notice within the city, the result was that it was seen by the greatest artisans from across the entire kingdom.

Sansui, dressed in formal attire, Blois, wearing the elegant gown of a noblewoman and holding little Fanne in her arms, and Lain, in her usual plain fashion: the Shirokuro family walked stiffly down the corridors of the Sepaeda main estate.

Up until now, they had merely served as Douve’s attendants, and thus no one had ever addressed them directly. But now, they were the talk of the kingdom—perhaps even more so than Douve herself. Ever since they’d entered the castle town, they had been subjected to strange, feverish gazes. And within the mansion, the attendants and guards could be seen whispering among themselves whenever the family passed by.

Enduring the weight of all those stares, the family entered Lady Douve’s chambers, where the newlyweds—Douve and Tahlan—were waiting.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Blois, Lain? And nice to meet you, little Fanne.”

“What an adorable child, Lord Sansui. Lady Blois, might I hold her as well?”

The two of them, as one would expect, greeted the family with perfect normalcy. Yet the Shirokuro family found it hard to respond in kind. They were thoroughly bewildered—and wanted very much to talk about why.

“O-Oh, my lady, this is Fanne. My lord, if you’d like, please hold her for a moment.”

Even so, the family had served as attendants for so long that they all managed to keep their composure. They were bewildered and bursting to speak their minds, yet they somehow maintained the proper order of things.

“My, my...how strange,” Douve said. “I feel like she resembles Lain. Even without a blood tie, you really are sisters, aren’t you?”

“Ah, such refined features. She truly looks like a young Lain,” Tahlan agreed. “But of course, she also takes after Lady Blois. She’ll grow up quickly, I’m sure, and look even more like her mother.”

For Douve, it was unusual—praise without a trace of irony. Normally so sharp-tongued, it appeared she was incapable of hauteur before a baby. Tahlan, ever kind and considerate, naturally joined in the compliments. He gently stroked the infant in his arms as though she were his own child.

It was, in truth, the sort of peaceful scene the family had wished for. There was nothing wrong with it, yet now was hardly the time for such calm. They wanted, as soon as possible, an explanation of what was happening in the city.

“Um, my lady...the castle town is terribly lively right now. Might I ask what’s going on?”

“Oh, that,” Douve answered lightly. “Craftsmen from all over the country have gathered, saying they wish to make Blois’s bridal gown. You noticed the bustle on your way here, I imagine?”

She spoke as if it were nothing. And indeed, anyone who’d listened to the noise and excitement outside would have little trouble guessing what was happening. But the three of them didn’t want to know what was happening—they wanted to know how it had come to this.

“Um, my lady,” Blois pressed gently, “I was told that the only announcement would be a call for tailors in the Sepaeda capital...”

“That’s right,” Douve replied matter-of-factly. “That’s all I did. Given the time we have, there wasn’t much more I could do, was there?”

She said it so smoothly, so casually—utterly unashamed, because she truly had nothing to hide.

“It seems,” she went on, “that many of the country’s most skilled artisans predicted you would be seeking someone to tailor the bridal gown—and they’ve all gathered here to prove themselves.”

“Well...yes. I suppose that is something one could have expected,” Blois admitted.

“Indeed... You’re right,” Sansui said.

Douve truly had done nothing more than issue a public notice in the capital. It was simply that skilled craftsmen from across the kingdom had anticipated it and gathered there on their own.

“The excitement in the streets is...overwhelming,” Blois said, blushing. “Everywhere you look, women in extravagant dresses are parading about, all competing for who can draw the most attention.”

As she spoke, Sansui recalled the uproar in the city.

Countless tailors had all dressed their models in their proudest creations and sent them walking through the streets, turning the town into a kind of grand prelude—an unofficial contest before the real one. It was nothing less than a living advertisement. The entire city had become a fashion show, and the townspeople were utterly enthralled.

“There were even people with ships on their heads...” Lain murmured. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying—but it was true. There had been quite a few like that.

Everyone had been desperate to stand out, desperate to leave an impression. Some of the designs had gone so far beyond art that they bordered on the absurd.

Women strutted about with ship models perched on their heads, as if declaring: This is the newest trend in hairstyles!

If it had been a small, stylized ornament, one might have only tilted their head in curiosity, but these were massive—larger than the wearer’s head, ornate, detailed sailing ships. There was nothing to do but stare in disbelief.

What was truly frightening, however, was the thought that Blois herself might end up dressed like that.

“Lain, you probably don’t know this,” Douve said lightly, “but that style was all the rage long ago. It didn’t last very long, mind you—but one could almost call it traditionally elegant.”

“I...really don’t want to see Mama Blois looking like that,” Lain said quietly.

“Oh? Is that so?” Douve smiled.

Honestly, I’d have to agree... Sansui thought, feeling exactly the same way.

If Blois were to walk down the aisle with a ship perched on her head, Sansui honestly doubted he could walk beside her as the groom. His eyes would keep drifting upward, and he’d be far too distracted to focus on the ceremony itself.

Of course, the tailors weren’t joking around, nor did they have any intention of mocking Blois. But to the eyes of Blois, Lain, and Sansui, such outlandish designs simply weren’t tasteful.

“This commotion is not what we intended,” Sansui said frankly, appealing to Douve. “My lady, could you please bring it under control through your influence?”

It was supposed to be their wedding, yet the bystanders had turned it into an uproar. At this point, he couldn’t tell who the contest announcement had really been for. It felt as though someone had used them as an excuse to start a festival, and the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Douve listened, then sighed deeply, wearing an expression of genuine exasperation.

“Honestly...”

Her sigh seemed to say, I can’t believe this.

“How long are you going to keep acting like bodyguards?” she said sharply. “You should know that nobles are expected to conduct themselves as such.”

To her, it seemed that being bothered by such a situation was exactly the wrong response. A fashion show breaking out over who would earn the right to make the bridal gown? As far as Douve was concerned, that was something to enjoy—the sort of spectacle a noble ought to relish.

The Shirokuro family, however, found this attitude profoundly troubling.

“All these skilled artisans have gathered, saying they wish to craft Blois’s wedding dress,” Douve continued. “That’s a wonderful thing. What could you possibly be dissatisfied about?”

“It’s not just the size of the commotion,” Sansui replied carefully. “It’s that so many of the designs are...unusual. We were taken aback.”

“Then simply make your requests clear,” Douve said crisply. “Specify the design you want.”

“You’re absolutely right, my lady.”

With that, Sansui and Blois were soundly rebuked.

No one had ever said that the clothes the models wore in the streets were meant to be the actual wedding dress. Blois and the others had merely assumed as much on their own.

“Listen carefully, Blois,” Douve said, her tone firm. “You’ve failed to grasp the most important point.”

“Wh-What do you mean, my lady?” Blois asked timidly.

“The bridal gown exists,” Douve said, “so that the bride can fully bask in her own happiness. If you wear it with joy in your heart, Sansui will smile as well.”

The words were undeniably arrogant—yet they were also true. At a wedding, the bride is the centerpiece. There is nothing wrong with her being a little proud; in fact, if she isn’t, then the ceremony loses its meaning.

“At my own wedding, I wore a bridal gown from the kingdom of Magyan,” Douve continued. “That wasn’t out of obligation or diplomacy—it was simply because I wanted to wear it. Had I not wished to, I would have refused, no matter what anyone said.”

It was the right kind of respect for another culture—born not from duty, but from genuine admiration. She had embraced it because she truly found it beautiful and worthy.

Hearing Douve’s confident words, Tahlan found himself falling in love with her all over again. And the Shirokuro family, too, could only be struck by how right she was.

“As the client,” Douve said, her tone cool and commanding, “you must state your wishes clearly. Entrust the fabric from Magyan only to the one who can meet those demands. The premise hasn’t changed at all. Must I really spell it out for you like this?”

“I have no excuse, my lady,” Blois admitted. “I let the commotion in the city unsettle me and lost my composure.”

It seemed she had been far more confused than necessary. The only thing that had happened was that more artisans had gathered than expected—a cause for celebration, not distress.

In this matter, Tahlan and Douve’s reactions had been the correct ones.

“This Blois,” Blois declared, lifting her chin, “shall act as a lady—and as a bride—and make her demands with proper pride.”

“Yes,” Douve said, smiling faintly. “Do that. And make sure you leave no regrets behind.”

A few days after the Shirokuro family arrived in the region, three artisans—the ones most highly praised by the townspeople—were invited to the estate. Normally, they might have welcomed all the craftsmen who had gathered, but there were simply too many; a selection had to be made.

Including the many who had come of their own accord from across the kingdom, the three who earned the right to stand on the field of competition were: a female artisan from the Disaea domain, a young rising talent from Sepaeda, and a seasoned craftsman from the royal demesne.

To be summoned by Douve—and to be called forth personally, at that—was not, for these three, a surprise.

Confident in their exceptional skill, none of them had even considered the possibility of being eliminated in the preliminary round. As such, they didn’t enter the Sepaeda estate weeping with joy, but rather with the calm air of people attending a routine appointment.

The true contest began here: which of the three artisans could surpass the other two.

For clothing artisans, this was a match of utmost seriousness. Winning here would not only make one the best in the kingdom but also ensure one’s name would be recorded in the history of Arcana’s fashion.

Even as the fierce determination radiating from the three caused the Shirokuro family to feel a twinge of intimidation, they began explaining the selection process.

Normally, Douve’s presence would have been reassuring—but she had graciously said, “This much, you should decide for yourselves.” And so, excluding little Fanne, the Shirokuro family would conduct the judging.

Lain’s role was mainly to offer her impressions, so in practice, the decision rested on Blois and Sansui.

“Ahem... First of all,” Sansui began, “allow me to thank you for stepping forward to create my wife’s bridal gown.”

He felt uneasy speaking with such authority toward people of a completely different craft. No matter how politely he phrased it, what he was really saying was I grant you the right to make my wife’s wedding dress. And that, inevitably, sounded lofty.

“Before we begin the selection,” he continued, “I would like you to examine this.”

With that, Sansui brought out the cloth he had received from the kingdom of Magyan and, without hesitation, passed it to the three artisans.

In that instant, their eyes truly changed. As professionals, they knew exactly what they were holding—the foreign fabric they had longed for with all their hearts was now resting in their own hands.

An overwhelming impulse seized them—the irresistible desire to put scissors to that fabric, to craft the most beautiful bridal gown from it.

“To the artisan who passes the selection,” Sansui said, “we will entrust this cloth. You will use it to create a Magyan-style bridal gown. Lady Douve’s own wedding dress will serve as your reference.”

The three artisans, still transfixed by the sight of the fabric, barely seemed to hear him—but Sansui made sure to drive his point home clearly.

There would be no withholding the Magyan cloth, nor any claim that it was of lesser quality than rumored. They were free to confirm for themselves that it was indeed of the finest make—but they were not free to do whatever they pleased with it.

“If you cannot accept these terms,” he said firmly, “please withdraw from the competition.”

Recreating an existing design wasn’t, honestly, a thrilling challenge. But the client’s wishes came first, and these conditions had been stated from the start.

Thus, the three artisans held their tongues and accepted the terms without protest.

“Very well,” Sansui continued. “With that agreement in place, let us proceed to the selection. Each of you, please present the bridal gown you would recommend for my wife.”

It sounded like something out of a storybook—a king summoning artisans from across the land and declaring, “Bring forth the wedding gown that best suits my bride.” Not even Douve herself had gone that far.

It was an event so rare it might never happen again in history. Still, Sansui resolved to see it through. It might have looked ostentatious to outsiders, but none of them were acting in bad faith. If nothing else, they could laugh about it later—after handling it properly now.

With that determination in mind, Sansui began the proceedings.

“Then, if I may begin,” said the first contestant.

The woman from the Disaea domain—stern and dignified in demeanor—brought in a model wearing her own handcrafted bridal gown.

In fact, this was the very same artisan whose model had paraded through the streets with a ship perched on her head during the fashion show. But this time, the gown she presented was truly—undeniably—beautiful.

“Oh...”

The word escaped Blois before she could stop it. She hadn’t expected such a design—and yet, she was moved. In this country, bridal gowns were almost always white, but the model before her wore a dress woven with many colors.

“In Disaea, we receive goods from all manner of foreign lands,” the artisan explained. “Among them is a bird from the southern tropics, and it was from that creature that I drew inspiration for this dress.”

“Hmph,” the young Sepaeda artisan grunted softly.

To be blunt, the design strayed from convention. Yet at the same time, there was nothing inappropriate about it as a bridal gown for a wedding ceremony.

And more importantly, it did not pale in comparison to what would later be called a Magyan-style bridal gown.

To choose such a daring motif for a decisive competition like this—she’s good, the young artisan thought.

At least for Blois and Lain, the dress stirred genuine excitement. It was utterly unlike the bridal gowns they knew—brighter, more exotic, and delightfully bold.

There was a charm to it, something that made one think, I’d love to try wearing that.

“Next, please.”

“Yes, of course.”

The young Sepaeda craftsman stepped forward and summoned his model.

To everyone’s surprise, the bridal attire she wore was a pants style. Yet it was so radiant that the lack of a skirt did not feel strange—it didn’t even read as particularly masculine.

“Lady Blois,” the artisan said, “is a woman strong enough to be invited into the ranks of the royal guard, and so I have prepared a bridal gown that would suit her strength while still embracing her grace.”

It wasn’t a masculine outfit, nor one that tried to hide femininity. Rather, it skillfully blended a touch of masculine design into a distinctly feminine form.

The model wore it perfectly. With a hairstyle similar to Blois’s, she made it easy to picture how Blois herself would look in it—and even before trying it on, everyone could see it would suit her beautifully.

A simple approach—but tailored perfectly to the client. To design it before even meeting me... Impressive, thought Blois, quietly admiring the young artisan’s discernment.

The female artisan from Disaea quietly nodded in appreciation of the young Sepaeda craftsman’s research skills.

No matter that he was born in Sepaeda—it was no simple task to study the traits of a woman who had served merely as a bodyguard to Lady Douve, and even harder to translate that understanding into a finished design.

And indeed, the reaction from the Shirokuro family was excellent. They could all see that the outfit would suit Blois perfectly.

“Well then,” said Sansui, clearing his throat, “the last entrant, please...”

“Yes,” came the confident reply. “Leave it to me.”

At last, the seasoned artisan from the royal demesne called in his model.

When the woman entered, everyone—including the other two craftsmen and the Shirokuro family—was taken aback.

The model bore almost no resemblance to Blois. She was small and delicate, and the gown she wore—while exquisitely made—was simply a traditional bridal dress.

“I have prepared a gown that follows the royal tradition of the bridal form,” the artisan announced.

His presentation was short, almost curt. It was indeed traditional, but perhaps a little too much so.

The model herself had the air of a young noblewoman about to be wed: graceful, pure, and serene. Her hands were pale as whitefish, her demeanor gentle and composed.

It looked less like a gown for Blois and more like a gown made for this model—a perfectly ordinary bride.

Why? Why this design? I can’t read his intent... I don’t understand!

Had this not been a competition, such a piece might have made sense—a safe, standard design to keep as an option. But this was a contest. To offer something so plain seemed like surrender. Surely there was no way it could win—

“Sansui,” Blois said softly, interrupting the silence. “I think...I like this one.”

The words came with calm certainty. The bride herself had chosen.

And with that, the other two artisans’ chances vanished in an instant.

“Then the decision is made,” Sansui declared.

“This can’t be... Impossible!” cried the young Sepaeda craftsman, disbelief written across his face.

“Why...? I can’t accept this!”

Just as Sansui tried to bring the matter to a close, the two defeated artisans protested loudly. They couldn’t accept their loss.

“Why was that chosen? What were the criteria?”

“Yes, exactly! Why that gown and not ours? We demand to know!”

Ignoring the Shirokuro family completely, the two turned on the veteran craftsman, voices sharp with frustration.

“Oh?” he said calmly. “Then allow me to ask in return—why does my gown’s victory displease you so?”

The seasoned man’s tone was composed, even smug, a faint smile tugging at his lips as if to say, You still have much to learn.

“Because that gown doesn’t suit Lady Blois!” one of them snapped.

“That’s right! It clearly clashes with her image!”

Their words were harsh—a barrage of blunt professional criticism. The “orthodox bridal gown,” they declared, simply didn’t match the bride’s aura.

Hearing this, Blois’s expression faltered slightly, her shoulders dipping.

The veteran artisan, however, raised his voice, firm and unwavering—as though brushing aside her momentary doubt.

“Even if you’ve lost, such talk before the client is disgraceful,” he said. “And in any case—Lady Blois does suit this gown.”

He paused, letting his confidence fill the room.

“I understand your thinking,” he went on evenly. “If we speak only of outward appearance, then yes—your designs may complement her more naturally.”

“Exactly!” one of them cried, seizing on his words.

“My gown was made for Lady Blois! Crafted to match her strength, her bearing! How could such a thing possibly lose?”

It was true—Blois’s looks and stature made her easy to dress. In almost any design, she would shine. By ordinary reckoning, the two bolder gowns—colorful or tailored—would better showcase her charm.

If this were a simple competition of visual harmony, either of those two would surely have won.

But the old master only smiled faintly and said:

“That’s where you’re mistaken. A wedding is indeed the bride’s grand stage—her dream come true. But that dream,” he said, lowering his voice, “comes in three kinds.”

The veteran artisan began to explain why he had deliberately chosen a gown—and even a model—that did not resemble Blois in the slightest.

“There are,” he said calmly, “three kinds of bridal dreams. Some wish for a wedding more splendid than anyone else’s. Some dream of a ceremony that is utterly unique, one that no one else could ever replicate. And then there are those who long for the wedding everyone dreams of—the timeless ideal.”

He paused, looking directly at Blois.

“I do not rank one dream above another,” he continued. “But Lady Blois belongs to that last kind.”

His reasoning was precise, almost clinical, yet filled with quiet empathy.

“To her,” he said, “a wedding is not about extravagance or originality. It is the moment when a warrior is reborn as a lady—a ritual of transformation. She yearns for that classic, graceful image of a bride that everyone envisions.”

At that, the other two artisans fell silent. The truth of their defeat dawned on them all at once.

They realized how thoroughly competition had clouded their judgment. After so many days of fashion shows and rivalry, they had begun to design with victory in mind—not the bride herself.

“We were obsessed,” murmured one. “Trying to outshine the bridal gowns of Magyan, trying to make something that fit her perfectly—but we were only thinking like professionals.”

“Right,” said the other quietly. “We forgot that a bride doesn’t care whether the gown matches her image. She just wants to feel like a bride.”

The veteran gave a firm nod.

“Exactly. We say that ‘God dwells in the details,’ and that is true—but that belief exists for our discipline, not for our clients. Not every customer seeks perfect balance, subtle harmony, or artistic restraint. Those are the vanities of artisans who have forgotten who they serve.”

He let his words hang heavy in the air before delivering the final blow:

“You two lost your footing in the excitement of competition. You forgot the first rule of craft—to honor the client’s dream.”

“Ugh...”

“We’ve lost...”

The woman from Disaea and the young man from Sepaeda both bowed their heads and knelt, humbled before the veteran’s calm mastery.

“You should have thought more carefully about whose moment this really is!”

The veteran craftsman declared his victory with pride, his voice ringing with both satisfaction and authority.

Viewing his triumphant pose, the Shirokuro family couldn’t help but share a collective thought.

It feels like he’s making the moment a little about himself now, though...

The atmosphere had shifted so dramatically it was as if they’d wandered into the climax of a cooking manga—where the cooks, not the patrons, held the spotlight.

Indeed, while the bride and groom were the stars of the wedding itself, during the preparations, it was the people behind the scenes—the creators and craftsmen—who truly took center stage.

Part 5 — Purge

Lamp, Woulnut, Yuen, Inke, and Cabbo: five warriors serving as combat instructors to various nobles under the House of Sepaeda. They were men who had trained in swordsmanship under Sansui and received noble treasures from Suiboku himself. In short, a band of five proud heroes.

Now, the five of them were gathered in the mansion granted to them by their respective lords, all leaning in toward a single letter laid out on the table.

“Hey, you guys. If you can’t read, don’t crowd up behind me,” grumbled Woulnut—the only one among them with enough education to decipher the text.

The other four, however, pressed in close anyway, peering uselessly over his shoulder, forming an annoyingly tight cluster around his chair as he read.

“You say that, Woulnut, but you’re not reading it aloud! We’re dying to know what it says here!”

“Reading it out loud? You can’t just do that—it’s written in formal style, not something you can recite word for word. I’m still figuring it out, so wait a second.”

If this had been an ordinary work notice, they would’ve just said, Woulnut, you handle it, and left it at that. But since the sender was Sansui—their former master—that was out of the question.

They couldn’t help but feel impatient, desperate to hear what their old teacher had written.

“Huh,” murmured Woulnut.

“What do you mean, huh? Tell us already!”

“All right, all right... Basically, it’s a formal wedding invitation.”

“Oh, seriously?”

As they’d surmised, it was an invitation to Sansui and Blois’s wedding. However, there was also something written inside that none of them expected.

“Thing is,” Woulnut continued, scanning the page, “the wedding’s supposed to be a small one. The only guests will be people like us—Sansui’s students—plus Suiboku and a few of Blois’s relatives.”

“Sounds like a rough-looking crowd from Sansui’s side. Won’t that be a bother for her family?”

“Well, maybe. But honestly, who else could he invite? Sansui doesn’t really know anyone except us and some big shots.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like he can invite Tahlan or the lady herself...”

“Ah, whatever. If we’re invited, that’s good enough for me. Just getting to see everyone again will be great.”

The joy of a wedding wasn’t only in celebrating the bride and groom; it was also in reuniting with friends.

Their old comrades were now scattered across the country—some employed under different lords, others serving Tahlan as guards for Lady Douve. Because they could rarely meet these days, the chance to gather again made this invitation all the more exciting.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Woulnut said, tapping the letter. “Before the ceremony, Sansui’s supposed to pay a visit to our employer, the lord of this domain. Since the lord won’t be attending the wedding, Sansui’s coming here to greet him instead.”

“Huh... Wait, you mean he’s coming here? Sansui himself? We’re screwed!”

“We’re not screwed,” Woulnut replied calmly. “We’re doing our jobs properly, and the lord’s pleased with us. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, yeah, but still... If you asked whether we’ve gotten any stronger since then...probably not much, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s true...”

The five of them fell silent, lost in thought. The truth was, they’d grown comfortable, satisfied with their current lives. They worked diligently, trained regularly, but hadn’t achieved anything remarkable. They weren’t a disappointment—but neither were they impressive. And realizing that left a faint sting of shame.

“All right, then! We’ve got to train before Sansui gets here!”

“Yeah!”

Because they had someone they looked up to, they could keep walking their path with purpose. To meet—and keep up with—someone worthy of respect... That was a rare kind of happiness in life.

The five, who were by nature never truly serious, nevertheless vowed to buckle down and train properly for Sansui’s sake.

“Hey, Lamp!”

Their burst of resolve was snuffed out in an instant.

Even these rough-and-ready men felt their morale drain away by the force of what came next.

“I heard that! Why didn’t you call me down?”

Descending from the second floor was Lamp’s grandmother. She was Lamp’s only living relative, and that was precisely why she’d been welcomed into the household along with him.

She was quite old but still vigorous—and perhaps the most ambitious person in the room.

“You’ve got the kingdom’s finest swordsman coming here? And you weren’t even going to introduce me, I bet!” she demanded.

“What are you planning to do if you meet him?” Woulnut asked.

“You know exactly what! Get close to him and reap the sweet, sweet benefits!” she crowed.

“What benefits? You’ve already got a pretty good life.”

“Of course I do! I’ll get him to go back to my hometown and smash those bastards! That should be easy enough!”

“No, it won’t.”

If Sansui wanted to, he could have crushed a small farming village or two without breaking a sweat, but avenging a grievance from generations past merely to satisfy one woman’s vendetta made no sense. Sansui was strong, yes, but he was still a public official—he did not act outside the law.

“Lamp’s granny is on fire today...” Yuen murmured.

‘Reaping the sweet benefits’ turning into ‘beat up the hometown people’—how does that follow? That’s not sweet at all, Woulnut thought.

“Whatever. Let’s train. If it’s for improving our skill, the lord won’t complain. He might even encourage it,” Inke said.

Lamp’s grandmother was just talking nonsense. Even if she meant it seriously, she lacked the power to carry it out, and if nobody else acted on it, it would remain nothing more than idle posturing.

Yes, that was how it was meant to be.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. May I have a moment of your time?”

Stepping into the great hall of the house where the five men lived was their employer, a local lord serving under the Sepaeda family.

Technically, the mansion belonged to him; he was the one who provided for them in every way. His sudden appearance made the five men straighten up at once.

The lord, however, gestured for them to relax.

“Please, be at ease. I’m not here for a surprise inspection of your living habits. I’ve simply come to speak with you about your instructor.”

“Ah—y-yes, my lord! Hey, Grandma! Go upstairs for a bit! If you do anything weird, we’ll get kicked out of this house!”

“All right, all right! Work hard, kids!”

Quick on the uptake, Lamp’s grandmother retreated immediately. Even she understood that while her grandson and his companions might be forgiven a bit of rudeness, causing trouble in front of a feudal lord was no laughing matter.

The lord, watching this exchange, merely chuckled good-naturedly and let it pass.

“Ahem. It seems you’ve received an invitation to Master Sansui’s wedding ceremony. I’ve received one as well, though not to the wedding itself. Instead, I’m to be visited here in person for a formal greeting. I must admit, I would have liked to attend the ceremony in person...”

“Ah, w-we’re terribly sorry, my lord...”

From Sansui’s perspective, it was understandable—he likely didn’t want to invite too many unfamiliar people, preferring a small ceremony surrounded only by those close to him.

Even so, the five of them couldn’t help but feel awkward. They would be attending the wedding, while their employer—their superior—would not. Hearing him directly say that he’d have liked to attend put them in a very uncomfortable position.

“No, no, it’s quite all right,” the lord said quickly. “I can understand your teacher’s feelings. After all, my connection to him is rather distant, and even if I were invited, it would be difficult for me to attend personally.”

After all, at the end of the day, a sword instructor was simply a kind of teacher. For the local lord of a distant province to personally attend their wedding would have been, in truth, a stretch.

Sansui might have been strong, and even recognized personally by the heads of the four great houses, but in terms of social rank, the local lord was far above him.

The importance of his duties and the wealth he controlled were incomparable to Sansui’s.

That very disparity in status became a restraint on his being invited to the wedding.

“Still, I have no complaints if he comes to pay his respects here. More importantly...there is something that must be dealt with,” the lord said. His face grew serious, showing the five that what he was about to say was weighty.

“I know I don’t have to tell you this, but the name of Sansui Shirokuro is great. Moreover, his students are highly regarded, and have even received Lord Sepaeda’s own endorsement.”

Few actually knew how powerful Sansui was, but Sepaeda actively advertised him as the family’s ace—and the fact that studying under him led to great advancement.

“And riding on that fame, many fraudulent sword schools have sprung up in my domain. Until now I have let reports go by, but if your teacher is coming into the territory, that will be a problem.”

“Y-Yes...”

Fake or fraudulent combat schools existed in every age. Among the many petty crimes in the world, they caused relatively little harm. Local lords were not idle men; they did not crack down on every small thing. They preferred to spend time and effort on other matters.

But when an opportunity like this arose, they crushed such places without mercy. Even a minor fraud is still fraud, and considering Sansui’s reputation, it was important to act.

“With that in mind, I want you, who are the genuine disciples of Sansui Shirokuro, to go and beat them down with your own hands. Right there—in front of me, my soldiers, and the villagers!” the lord said.

The five of them found themselves trembling. They had heard rumors of these fraudulent schools, but they had never thought that destroying them would be the duty of combat instructors—and in truth they had no time to travel the countryside doing that.

We can’t say no... Woulnut thought anxiously. If we refuse, what would Sansui think?

They were frightened, but the request was unmistakable: to act, publicly and decisively, against the charlatans exploiting Sansui’s name.

They themselves were not entirely innocent—some of them were even aware of the shady dealings—so they could not exactly say they wanted to root those places out on their own.

But once ordered, the matter changed. As genuine students trained by Sansui Shirokuro and Suiboku, they would smash those cheap impostors—and do it in front of an audience.

“If you plan to have the soldiers watch, that means you will lead them yourself to the site...and then we will fight by ourselves, right?” Woulnut asked the lord.

“That’s how it will be. Do you object?” the lord replied.

“No, no... We welcome this opportunity,” Lamp said.

They felt a pang of reservation—this was hardly a noble task. Yet even so, vanity and the hunger for honor were hard to suppress.

They had once aspired to be the strongest, until they’d met true strength and been humbled. Even so, they still longed to show their strength. They wanted, as their master Sansui Shirokuro would, to utterly trounce the charlatans—overwhelmingly, cleanly, without drama—and walk away victorious.

And they wanted to do it in front of their lord, and before the soldiers who might look down on them.

We can’t pass this up, Woulnut thought. This will prove we’re the real deal.

“I’m glad you five are eager. Then we must purge the domain before your teacher arrives,” the lord said, smiling in a way that was almost wicked.

Part 6 — False Statement

They rode into a large town with the lord and his escort. The sudden arrival turned the streets into an uproar.

From their point of view, the lord was the direct ruler, and if he were angered, it would not end well. A public flogging would be the least of it—finding any pretext to raise taxes was also within the realm of possibility.

Whether that “possibility” actually came to pass did not matter. Because a man who could do such things had come, a great commotion was only to be expected.

“My lord, we are honored by your presence. We have prepared a welcome for you—please, come in.”

The town magistrate was waiting at the main gate, wringing his hands as he greeted the lord.

The lord, however, replied curtly. “You can dispense with the formalities. I am a busy man. I will stay the night but shall depart tomorrow.”

“B-But, my lord...please tarry longer...” the magistrate began, but his words sounded more like platitudes than a true effort to keep him; privately, the townsfolk wished the lord would leave immediately.

“No, I do not intend to stay long. Still, as a light inspection, I will look about the town.”

“Y-Yes! Of course, sir—please do!”

Normally, the thought of an impromptu inspection would have chilled everyone to the bone. But it was already midday, and with only the hours until sunset to spare, there was little more the lord could do than make a hasty tour.

Hidden double books or unreported hoards of wealth were unlikely to be discovered in such a brief sweep. Even if something were noticed, proving illegality on the spot would be difficult. Regardless, if the lord had intended to root out such things, he would not have limited himself to a single overnight stay.

The flustered town magistrate let out a sigh of relief. Having calmed himself, his awareness finally expanded to take in the rest of the lord’s entourage. Among them were five men whose equipment made them stand out.

“Oh, my lord... Those rugged-looking warriors over there—could they be the rumored new combat instructors?”

“Yes, indeed. They are the young elite personally introduced by the head of Sepaeda himself. Even the Young Blademaster has vouched for their skill—they are truly formidable,” the lord said proudly.

Apparently, he took great pride in them; his expression, previously sullen, shifted to one of faint amusement. Seeing the lord smile, the magistrate’s relief grew even stronger.

“I-Is that so... The famous Sansui Shirokuro himself... Ah?!”

The magistrate yelped in front of the lord before he could stop himself. Too concerned about hidden misdeeds being exposed, he had forgotten that this situation—publicly acknowledged—was already a known secret.

So...he has come to this town!

By the time he realized the danger, it was too late to act. Resigned, the magistrate had no choice but to guide them through the town.

At present, Sansui Shirokuro was all the rage in the Sepaeda territory.

Any inn he had visited, any teahouse he favored—everything was instantly trendy. Simply attaching the name “Sansui Shirokuro” guaranteed sales and popularity. That was how widely celebrated he had become.

But that was the mildest part. Far worse were the sword schools.

Until recently they had taught completely different styles, used completely different weapons—and yet, with shameless audacity, they now hung signs touting “Sansui Shirokuro.”

Worse still, the instruction they offered was nothing like Sansui’s or Suiboku’s: it was just the same sloppy lessons they’d always given, repackaged with a famous name.

Such a malignant trend had spread even through this town.

“Hmm... This town’s plastered with Sansui Shirokuro banners,” the lord observed, surveying the shops and pennants along the main street. “I never knew the Grand Instructor of Warfare had visited this place.”

He meant it as a sarcastic remark, but the students walking behind him were not amused. They had every reason to be outraged—their master’s reputation was being used as a trademark.

The magistrate, for his part, floundered for a response and chose self-preservation instead.

“Merchants can be bold... If it boosts sales, they’ll boast anything,” he stammered.

“Indeed,” the lord agreed. “Few will take such advertising at face value. However...”

He fixed his gaze on one particular sign.

“This, I cannot overlook.”

What he had spotted was the town’s largest, newest sword school—its frontage declaring it the “Sansui Shirokuro School.”

This was beyond mere tolerated practice. The place was large and prominent enough that someone had to be backing it at the municipal level.

Seeing it, the five swordsmen could barely contain their anger any longer. They looked like men ready to storm the school at any moment.

“Master Sansui is the Grand Instructor of Warfare. There’s a world of difference between claiming he once tasted a certain sweet as an advertisement, and a sword school master claiming to have trained under him to teach others—the latter is far more malicious.”

One of the instigators of this fraudulent town scheme was the magistrate himself. The lord fixed him with a severe gaze.

“Y-Yes, my lord, you are quite correct!” the magistrate stammered.

“Nonetheless, it’s possible that some truly have been taught by Master Sansui. We should confirm this. Summon the masters who claim to have received instruction from him to the town square. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir!”

There was no room for refusal. The magistrate dashed into the school in a panic.

Evening was approaching. Normally people would be returning home at this hour, but the town still buzzed as if it were midday.

The representative masters of the town’s sword schools—two assistant instructors and one senior—were assembled in the central square, summoned by the lord who governed this town and its surrounding region.

“It’s nearly sundown. Long introductions are unnecessary,” said the lord, seated on a simple chair outside, flanked by many soldiers and the five combat instructors. He addressed the three assembled masters directly.

The townspeople whispered among themselves. Some who had engaged in wrongdoing turned pale, but most had nothing to fear.

The three masters before the lord weren’t sure if they were about to be judged as frauds or not. They watched with half disbelief, half dread.

“I will determine whether you truly are students of Master Sansui...by combat. You will face one of these five who carry official credentials, and your skill will reveal the truth.”

The five swordsmen, grim-faced and heavily armed, exuded an unmistakable aura of menace.

The townspeople, knowing that these men were “students of the Young Blademaster recognized by the lord,” could hardly contain their excitement.

The three self-proclaimed students were equally stirred by the anticipation.

I never imagined the lord himself would come to this tiny town...

I was worried they’d demand credentials, but if it’s a display of skill, that’s not so bad.

All we have to do is hold a decent match against one of those five youngsters...

They saw this as an opportunity. If they could bring the fight to a draw, they’d earn the lord’s personal approval. The three masters suppressed smug grins behind polite facades.

“No complaints, I hope?”

“Of course, we have no objections whatsoever.”

“Yes, we humbly accept. Please, behold my blade.”

“To wield the sword before the lord himself is the utmost honor.”

Of course, these three were not actually students of Sansui. They had never even met him, and some doubted his very existence. All were former soldiers, competent but ordinary men, now posing as qualified combat instructors. Age made them appear authoritative, but in essence, they were simply opportunistic rogues. Their ambitions were fueled solely by practical gain and dreams of prestige.

“So...who will go first?” the lord addressed the five swordsmen.

“I’ll go,” said Inke, stepping forward without hesitation. The other four said nothing, their stern gazes silently urging him to show no mercy.

“And among the three masters, who will face him first?”

“I will!”

The first to step forward was one of the assistant masters.

He was a decade or so older than the five young swordsmen, yet his body was solidly built. On his face was a confidence so unshakable it verged on arrogance.

“I will be your opponent, if you please, combat instructor,” he said.

Inke, the genuine article, offered no return bow. His eyes burned with unrestrained anger and barely contained hatred.

So young... With emotions this raw, he’ll come at me impulsively the moment we start!

A normal person would never underestimate someone staring them down with lethal intent. Yet this assistant master had real combat experience. He could calmly appraise an opponent even as their emotions threatened to overwhelm them.

“Weapons for both,” the lord commanded.

Soldiers handed wooden swords to the two fighters and collected the weapons they had been carrying. The crowd murmured in surprise.

“What’s going on? I thought they’d fight with real swords...”

“No way—they can’t draw live blades in front of the lord.”

“Ah, so it’s like a practice match, then.”

The townspeople had assumed a deadly duel, and some were disappointed. Others quietly felt relief.

But such relief was irrelevant to the two fighters.

With that level of anger, he’ll strike immediately when we begin. And he’ll go straight at me, no feints, no tricks.

The assistant master had already read Inke’s tactics.

I’m not underestimating him, but if I can predict his attack, I can defend. From there, I can force an exchange that will satisfy the lord.

He trusted his own read, braced for defense before the match even started, and prepared for a lightning-fast counterattack.

Inke responded only with a fierce glare.

“Then...”

At the lord’s signal, the two assumed a middle guard stance with their wooden swords.

The remaining two masters, four combat instructors, soldiers, and townsfolk all held their breath, watching intently. Of course, the unrelated spectators were excited, and the coconspirators rooted for the assistant master.

“Begin!”

“Whoa!”

At the signal, Inke exploded into action. He raised his wooden sword high and brought it down with a powerful shout.

Idiot!

It was a commonly used move, a simple yet deadly overhead strike aimed at the head. The assistant master raised his sword to defend.

“Ahhhhh!”

The wooden sword crashed down with full force, and the crowd saw the shocking result.

“Hey...the sword broke!”

“No—it’s lodged in his head!”

Inke’s strike had driven the wooden sword into the assistant master’s head, caving it completely.

The master had indeed attempted to defend with his wooden sword. It wasn’t that the strike was too fast—it was that the sheer force of Inke’s full-power blow could not be stopped.

“One strike.”

Even the soldiers serving as the lord’s bodyguards, each trained in rigorous combat, felt a chill run down their spines.

To face an opponent directly, weapons crossed, and still fell them with a single, perfectly delivered blow—such skill was almost unbelievable.

“Incredible...”

The same reaction came from the townsfolk. They simply stared at the corpse of the swordsman who had fallen with the wooden sword still lodged in his head.

“Ah... Ahh...”

The other two supposed masters trembled. They were each imagining that the very blow that struck their coconspirator might be struck at them next. No—depending on what came next, it was more prediction than imagination.

Everyone regarded Inke with eyes full of dread. Even ordinary people who had never held a real sword could understand the horror of that blow: a decisive strike that broke through defense, a power far too obvious to deny.

“My lord, anyone who cannot withstand a strike like that cannot possibly be a student of Master Sansui.”

“Aah, yes... That is true.”

Inke, who had landed that single, world-shaking stroke, breathed hard and wiped sweat from his brow as he addressed the lord. The lord himself had been transfixed by the corpse until Inke spoke, forgetting the pretense of merely “verifying the truth.”

“Indeed. If one cannot endure your strike, then one cannot claim to be Master Sansui’s student. In that case, they have no right to complain if they are killed.”

“Yes, you are quite right.”

Watching the soldiers carry off the body of their accomplice, the remaining two men shuddered. They had confirmed the painfully obvious fact that the lord’s combat instructors were stronger than they were, and now sweat poured from them.

This had become, in effect, a public execution. From the start, their fate had been to be slain.

“Well done, Inke,” the lord said, then looked to the other four combat instructors. “Now, who shall take the next match?”

“My lord, opponents of this caliber are not worth calling a match,” Inke replied. “As for who goes next... No, I will stay and finish this myself.”

“Oh... Is that so?”

The lord had not expected it to be decided so quickly. Faced with Inke’s strength, greater than he had imagined, he hastened to accept the offer.

“Then I’ll go next!”

The cry came from the remaining assistant master. Seeing that, the senior master regretted his delay.

Damn... Even if it was a single strike, using a technique like that exhausts a man... If I fight now, I’ll have the advantage...

If I kill this one, then I’ll be certified as the real thing. If I win, I’ll face one of the fresh four afterward... I’ll be the only victor!

The remaining assistant master stepped forward with a face drawn tight with nerves, standing before the man who had just committed murder.

Inke was still out of breath, yet his eyes were full of malice; sweat drenched him as he took up a new wooden sword.

Still...the weight behind his strikes isn’t normal. Even if he can’t repeat that full power, he might land a blow strong enough to knock me out...

The assistant master from the so-called Shirokuro-style school revered Inke’s earlier blow with real fear. Frankly, he wasn’t confident he could defend against it.

But if I run and dodge, I’ll be exposed as a pitiful fake and might be killed. No—strike fast. I’ll hit first and crush him!

Inke would likely attack again, but the second master had the advantage of being fresh.

If I fail...it’s death. I can’t afford to miss!

With that thought, he held his wooden sword high, waiting for the lord’s signal so he could strike at the earliest possible moment.

Hurry up and start! Every breath he takes to recover worsens my odds!

A single instant would decide the fight. That tension spread to the lord, the townspeople, and the soldiers.

Now, now!

The assistant master nearly moved before the start was even called—his body leaning forward, wooden sword raised, already stepping toward his opponent.

“Begin!”

“Whoa—!”

The lord’s signal pulled the trigger.

The second assistant master brought his wooden sword down, just as Inke had done before. An overhead strike was one motion quicker than an upward cut from middle guard; his blade should have landed before Inke’s attack even started.

“Hmm.”

Thud. The assistant master’s wooden sword slammed into the ground.

Instead of launching an attack of his own, Inke had evaded from the very first move and easily slipped to the side. Then he planted a foot on the sword that had driven into the earth and held it down.

“Ah—!”

The assistant master, dripping with sweat, stared at Inke with trembling eyes. Inke, breathing hard, glared steadily as he raised his wooden sword.

He’s not panicking!

Because his sword was pinned beneath Inke’s foot, the master could not dislodge it. He could drop the weapon and retreat out of Inke’s range, but then he would be forced to fight this man unarmed.

If I beg for my life...!

It was already checkmate. Everyone watching—soldiers, townsfolk, and those involved in martial arts alike—understood what was happening. Inke had dodged the attack, secured the opponent’s weapon, and was about to finish him. The calm, deliberate motion contrasted with the earlier, brutal single strike, and the crowd swallowed hard.

This time, unlike the previous bout, the interval after the opponent realized defeat had stretched too long.

“I-I’m sorry... I’m a fraud—”

“Is that so? Die.”

A sideways stroke snapped the assistant master’s neck as he confessed his sins.

Inke had paused to breathe even amid the killing, and then he struck down the second man as well.

“My lord, as you heard, he was a fake. I suppose they cannot complain even if they are killed,” Inke said.

“Indeed... To use Master Sansui’s name deceptively is an insult to the Sepaeda main house!” the lord replied.

Seeing how dependable even just one of the five combat instructors was was heartening. The lord smiled broadly at the unexpectedly effective demonstration.

This is bad, this is bad!

The sword school master, cornered and deprived of any escape, had lost all semblance of dignity from his face.

Inke had already caught his breath and looked better than before. The senior instructor was no fool who believed he could win in this situation.

He already proved that begging for our lives is useless! I must win, but how...?

If Inke struck, the master could not defend; if the master struck, Inke would evade and pin him down. Inke had revealed some of his techniques, and each card he showed was terrifying.

The faux master, who only knew battlefield swordwork, no longer had any idea what to do.

“Go on, then. You are the last one.” The lord smiled cruelly at the terrified fraud.

Refusal would surely earn immediate death.

“Y-Yes!” the man stammered. He regretted agreeing to fight. If only he had begged earlier—would there have been mercy?

Somehow...I must win...!

He accepted a wooden sword from a soldier—the only weapon left to defend himself in this situation. Yet his hand shook uncontrollably as he gripped it. Seeing that, every onlooker understood the fate that awaited him.

Because the two assistant masters had been frauds, the master could not possibly be genuine. If he were real, he would not be cowering so pitifully.

Like the two before him, he would be dispatched without fuss.

Everyone knew it, and yet no one moved to help. Those who had been deceived by him kept their distance, and even the accomplices feared the scandal spreading to themselves.

“Begin!”

“Urk—!”

The master no longer had any will to fight. Driven only by the desire not to die, he staggered backward, his wooden sword wavering.

Inke, however, hesitated not at all. He raised his sword, gave a single shout, and lunged.

“Hah!”

“Eek!”

The so-called Shirokuro-style master instinctively tried to protect his head. It wasn’t that he had read the blade’s line—he simply reacted defensively.

But a single wooden sword could only defend one spot. Inke calmly swung and struck elsewhere: he hit the opponent’s knee joint with a heavy blow.

“A-Ahhh!”

At first the master felt no pain in his head or in the hand that held the sword, but the pain came up from his leg a moment later. The false master who had claimed to be Sansui’s pupil screamed as the sword dropped from his grasp.

“Hmph.”

Inke hauled the wretched man down, standing over him while still holding the wooden sword, ready to finish him off as the fallen man struggled weakly to rise.

“Pathetic.”

With a single word, voiced as if with pity, Inke judged him.

Then he brought down the pommel of the wooden sword with one hand, striking the man’s forehead as if with a blunt club.

With a crushing sound, the pommel sank into the supposedly sturdy head. It was a fatal blow, and the man never moved again.

The soldiers and townspeople trembled.

Through this three-match sequence, Inke hadn’t shown a single hint of vulnerability. Every attack and defense was executed flawlessly, as if prearranged.

The sheer skill and fearless composure inspired fear in everyone present.

“My lord, as you can see...”

Inke stood over the fallen body and spoke with utmost dignity.

“There are no disciples of Master Sansui in this town.”

“Indeed... You are correct.”

Even those unfamiliar with Sansui Shirokuro had to accept it. This was the undeniable strength of someone trained directly by Sansui.

The Sansui Shirokuro style of combat, witnessed in its genuine form, ensured that the townspeople would never again be deceived by impostors.

Naturally, the soldiers and the lord themselves were included among those convinced.

Before the sun set, the truth of the sword school that bore the signboard of Sansui Shirokuro had become clear.

It differed in style from an ordinary trial, but in the end the result was the same: It was obvious that the impostors had been killed by the genuine one.

And that outcome put the sword school’s accomplices in trouble.

The instructors and others who had been working at the fraudulent school together with the master and assistant masters were immediately pressed by the disciples—who had realized the truth—for refunds. Because all the money had already been spent and nothing remained, they could only confess; thus they were handed over to the local lord as criminals.

The mayor, who had profited from his cooperation with the fraudulent school, along with those surrounding him, also came under fire. The sword school had disciples from neighboring towns as well, and because the mayor had taken the initiative in promoting it, the town as a whole suffered a severe loss of trust from the surrounding region. There was no avoiding punishment, and they too were delivered to the lord as criminals.

It had been an extremely malicious incident, yet its resolution was almost anticlimactic. Given the overwhelming difference in ability in the display at the plaza, there had been no room for argument—justice had simply been done.

The victims hurled their anger at the criminals, all while being captivated by the combat instructors’ prowess.

And their employer, the local lord, felt the same. He could not suppress his excitement at seeing the swordsman he employed win so brilliantly.

“You are strong. I’m grateful—you showed me a fine match. It was unpleasant work, I know, but I truly enjoyed it.”

That night after sunset, the lord summoned Inke to the room prepared for him, naturally to commend the day’s performance.

“No, when I actually saw those guys tricking people, I couldn’t help getting angry... So I think it was good work.”

Ink grew embarrassed at the praise. Plain, straightforward compliments touched him more deeply than flowery rhetoric or poetic expression.

“By the way... You are one of my combat instructors, yes?”

“Of course.”

Slightly excited, the lord brought up something that felt almost too obvious in retrospect.

“In that case, I should also be able to receive instruction in your secret techniques, don’t you think?”

“A-Ah... Yes, of course.”

“Well then, without delay, tell me by what principles you were able to overwhelm them so completely.”

The lord himself had no real experience with combat, but he at least understood that a match should not be decided that easily.

There had to be some trick—so he believed.

“My lord, you wish to be able to do that yourself?”

“Well, no, I mean...”

Faced with Inke’s straightforward question, the lord grew evasive. He had not yet heard the explanation, but even he did not think it would be so simple as just telling him the secret.

So although he said he wanted to know, it seemed he sought only the revelation of the trick, not to master the skill itself.

“I see.”

Inke did not particularly want to teach him how to execute those moves himself—if anything, he’d have found it far more troublesome—so he did not press the lord about the evasive answer and simply began explaining.

“First, the first man. He underestimated both the match and me. ‘The opponent’s just a youngster—there’s no way he’s stronger than me, a seasoned fighter.’ That’s what he was thinking.”

“That does sound like something a scam master would tell himself.”

“Yes... And the fact that it was a one-on-one fight with wooden swords also made him careless. Compared to a battlefield where men in full armor slaughter one another in groups, a little mock duel must have seemed like a child’s game.”

“That may well be true, but...”

“And that’s why he couldn’t withstand my blade.”

Inke spoke matter-of-factly, but his reasoning was convincing.

“If he hadn’t let his guard down and had tried to block me with full strength, he could have stopped my attack. Or, at the very least, he wouldn’t have died.”

Precisely because he’d been able to read Inke’s movements—and because he moved exactly as his reading told him to—he failed to receive the strike properly.

“He never imagined I would kill him. It showed on his face—‘I’ll just brush him off.’ Like that.”

“I see...”

The lord nodded, but after a brief pause, he grimaced.

So Inke really broke the wooden sword with sheer physical strength. Well, obviously, since we saw it, but still...

No wonder Inke was reluctant to teach him. Teaching how to lure an opponent into carelessness was one thing, but the training required to crush a skull straight through a defensive guard was not something just anyone could endure.

I should give up on this.

The lord made a wise decision.

“As for the second opponent, he was terrified and his movements became stiff. He’d watched the first man get killed so easily and completely lost his composure. That’s why he rushed the fight.”

Sensing the lord’s thoughts, Inke continued.

“It’s true that I was exhausted after delivering that first strike. I don’t think I could have blocked a proper, full-power attack after that. If he had just fought normally, I would have been in danger.”

“And that’s why you dodged, stomped him down, then struck after regaining your breath.”

So it had not been an effortless victory—Inke had played a dangerous game. He had not merely pretended to be tired. He had truly been drained.

Yet he did not hide it; instead, he showed his weakness openly to draw the opponent in. It was a tactic one could only use with absolute confidence in one’s own skill.

“Putting your weight into a downward strike at the crown of the head—it’s a simple but powerful move. But since I already intended to evade, it actually worked to my advantage. As expected, he drove his sword into the ground, and I subdued him with nothing more than my foot.”

“You didn’t consider the possibility that he might do something else?”

“He was rushing the fight and had taken an overhead stance. From that posture, he would need to shift in order to execute any other attack. As long as I focused entirely on watching him, I could respond.”

The secret behind a magic trick was usually something simple, but that didn’t mean a novice could necessarily imitate it.

The lord felt that truth keenly.

That overwhelming victory he had witnessed moments ago had in fact been like treading on thin ice.

“As for the third man—his spirit had already broken. I intentionally stepped away from formal dueling forms and used real combat swordsmanship. He was focused on protecting his life—his head—so I struck his leg with ease.”

He felled him by striking the leg, straddled him, and delivered the finishing blow. Another simple maneuver that anyone could copy in theory, yet had been pulled off so cleanly only because circumstances aligned.

After watching two clean victories through orthodox swordsmanship, the man could no longer respond to a rough, real-combat technique.

“The foundation of the Sansui Shirokuro style—no, the Suiboku style—is to avoid monotony and maintain breadth of style. I used three different techniques on the three of them so they couldn’t read me. When you unleash entirely different strategies, the opponent can’t keep up.”

If certain people heard him call it the “Suiboku style,” they would tremble in fear.

But Inke had been acknowledged even by Suiboku himself. That was why he could invoke the name without hesitation.

“Using the same method three times in a row would actually be far more terrifying,” Inke said.

“I understand now... It means there’s definitely no hope for me.”

“If that’s enough to make you lose motivation, I’ll be the one in trouble, you know.” Inke returned the lord’s light joke with one of his own.

“Well, anyway... Those men weren’t trying to win. Their minds were filled with nothing but self-preservation, and they weren’t really watching me. They never considered actually trying to surpass me. I’m not weak enough to lose under such circumstances.”

Feeling good, Inke ended up boasting a little. But he quickly scolded himself for it and began to downplay his own ability.

“Although...if it had been Master Sansui, he would have handled it far better.”

“Better than that? I thought you were absolutely flawless.”

“If he felt like it, he could have subdued them without even using a wooden sword, or without leaving a single scratch, or made them give up before the fight had even begun.”

“The frightening thing is that I can’t say any of that is impossible, knowing the kind of man Sansui is.”

The lord had seen Sansui fight before, and he knew Inke was not exaggerating when praising his own teacher.

“Still... I can’t even begin to imagine how he would do it.”

The next day, the lord and his five combat instructors left the town to go dismantle yet another fraudulent sword school.

As fate would have it, this very town was the homeland that Lamp’s grandmother had wished to destroy, and the mayor and relatives who had been dragged off as criminals were kin to those who had driven Lamp’s grandmother out.

But the group knew nothing of this. Nor did the woman who sought revenge ever learn of it herself.

Part 7 — The Person in Question

About half a month after the lord began purging the fraudulent sword schools, the Shirokuro family set off by carriage on a trip to greet various acquaintances.

When they arrived at a post town—“We’ll stay here for the night”—and stepped down from the carriage, everyone noticed a faint burnt smell.

Thinking there must have been a fire, they followed the scent...and found something unpleasant.

“Sansui... What is this?”

“I don’t know...”

In the most prominent spot in town stood the charred remains of a building. If that were all, it would simply seem like an unfortunate accident, but inside the ashes lay a large pile of signboards and banners.

Every one of those banners and boards had Sansui Shirokuro written on them.

Of course, given the fire, not all letters were legible; even so, it was obvious that only items labeled “Sansui Shirokuro” had been burned.

And if so many had survived enough to be read even after the fire, then there must have originally been far more. Imagining that, the three felt a chill brought on by an unknown malice.

Unable to stand still any longer, Sansui approached a nearby townsman and asked:

“Excuse me, may I trouble you for a moment? What is this building? Many things bearing the name Sansui Shirokuro seem to have been burned.”

“Oh, that sword school!”

Sansui had addressed a middle-aged man, who angrily kicked at the debris.

“The previous mayor of this town got in with some bad folk and put up the name ‘Sansui Shirokuro’ to peddle all sorts of stuff! And the worst of it was this sword school!”

“I-I see...”

“He said he was inviting a disciple of Sansui Shirokuro to open a school here, and tore down the shops that were here to build this thing! But what he really did was stuff it with thugs and ex-soldiers and run a scam sword school to make a profit!”

“So it was exposed...”

“Yeah. We made ’em spill everything and handed ’em over to the lord! And we couldn’t stop there—we burned the sword school down along with all the other scam goods!”

It seemed this was not the work of someone with a grudge against Sansui Shirokuro.

Hearing that, the family felt relieved.

“Hey, papa, if the sword school were still standing, would you have done something?”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have gone this far... But yeah, I might’ve smashed it a bit.”

“Please stop saying scary things. You could just report it to the local lord.”

“You’re right. You, Lain, and Fanne are with me, after all.”

Prompted by Blois’s comment, Sansui changed his stance immediately. It wasn’t his job to destroy anything, and he certainly didn’t want to do such things while with his family.

“Well, now that the mystery’s solved, let’s head to the inn.”

The punishment had been a bit extreme, but Sansui felt reassured since it hadn’t been motivated by hatred toward him.

He had plenty of reasons to be hated, so it frightened him—but it seemed he had nothing to do with this case in the end.

With nothing left to worry about, they headed to the best inn in town and began the process of checking in.

“I have filled out our name and information,” Sansui said as he handed the registry book to the innkeeper.

“Yes, thank you. Then, I’ll show you to your room, Mr. Shir— Shirokuro?!”

The innkeeper glanced at the guestbook and cried out in surprise.

Given the timing, it was only natural.

“E-Excuse me, but do you have any kind of identification...?”

“Yes, of course.”

Somewhat surprised by the innkeeper’s reaction, Sansui showed him the documents he carried.

There were no photographs, so verifying identity was difficult, but the fine cloth wrapping and the elegant writing on high-quality paper was enough to convince the innkeeper that it was genuine.

“A-And, what brings you to our town...?”

The innkeeper, still visibly nervous, asked why they were visiting. Considering the major incident that had recently occurred, his fear was understandable.

To reassure him, Sansui explained, “We are getting married, and we are currently traveling to offer greetings here and there.”

“I-I see...”

The innkeeper looked relieved.

But the real commotion began from that moment on.

Sansui sensed a sudden shift in the atmosphere—so sharp it sent a strange chill down his spine.

“Blois, Lain. Let’s get to the room quickly.”

“Wh-What’s wrong?”

“What’s the matter, papa? You’re acting strange.”

“Just come.”

The family was guided to the best room in the two-story inn.

Gently nudging his confused wife and daughter inside, Sansui then stepped to the window and looked outside.

A crowd had gathered. Word was already spreading that Sansui was here.

The innkeeper shouted my name...

This world did have at least some concept of personal-information protection; reading aloud the names and identities written in the inn’s registry was considered improper. In fact, if inns commonly did such a thing, no one would ever write their real names.

Thus, it was the innkeeper’s fault for shouting his name aloud.

“That’s a lot of people,” Blois said.

“With that fraud incident, they must be wondering if I’m the real one. If they were crowding around someone with status, it would be considered disrespectful, but I’m just a combat instructor serving a noble, not a noble myself.”

Back when he traveled with Douve, nothing like this happened. People gathered occasionally, but only to watch from a distance.

The timing of the scandal played a part, but more importantly, Sansui’s status wasn’t high enough for bystanders to be punished for disrespect.

“This is bad. Fanne looks like she’s going to cry.”

“What? Oh—you’re right...”

Too many people had gathered, and little Fanne was terrified. Sansui noticed even before Blois, who was holding the baby, and he moved to solve the problem.

“I’ll go disperse the crowd a bit. I’ll be right back.”

“Yes... We’ll wait here.”

Sansui gently slipped out the window. Using Feather Step, he floated down and landed softly.

Unlike with wind magic, his descent was quiet and controlled. The townsfolk outside all gasped in astonishment.

“I apologize for causing a disturbance. I am Sansui Shirokuro, the Grand Instructor of Warfare.”

Sansui normally wasn’t the type to flaunt his Rare Art, but to make it unmistakably clear that he was the real one, he deliberately showed it in front of everyone.

“Sansui Shirokuro is said to use the Rare Arts, right?”

“Then this man—this person is the master of those combat instructors...”

“Isn’t he too young? No, wait—they say Rare Arts users often look young...”

A user of Rare Arts was awe-inspiring on sight alone; whether they fully believed he was the real one or not, they knew he was no ordinary man.

Well, it’s not like they have to believe me... But it would be bad to tarnish the honor Lamp and the others protected.

For his daughter’s sake, he needed to calm the area. Sansui decided to move the spectators along.

“Everyone, it seems you have some business with me. This place is a bit cramped, so if there is somewhere more spacious, please take me there.”

Sansui was implicitly signaling that he did not mind if things got rough.

He was not wearing his usual casual kimono; instead, he was dressed in clothing resembling that of an Arcana Kingdom noble.

It was, in short, stylish attire—but that caused no issues.

“Then...this way.”

The gathered townsfolk had no leader, of course. There was no one in charge—the town did not even have a new mayor yet. Even so, the place to guide him was obvious.

Once one person indicated the destination, everyone else immediately nodded and started moving. If one wanted to speak with Sansui Shirokuro in this town, there was only one place—the plaza where his disciples had displayed their prowess.

When they arrived at the location, where bloodstains still remained, Sansui understood what had happened by the lingering scent and the atmosphere.

Lamp and the others must have fought well. Even if they doubt whether I’m the real one, they don’t doubt the strength of the “Sansui Shirokuro” they know of.

When the townsfolk saw Sansui smiling happily, many of them grew uneasy. They had come to see whether the genuine Sansui Shirokuro was really here, not because they had any actual business with him.

And Sansui, for his part, had only wanted to draw people away from his daughters. Now that the crowd was away from the inn, the problem was already solved.

He could have let things naturally disperse without doing anything further, but someone pushed through the townsfolk and stepped forward.

“You’re Sansui Shirokuro?”

They were young men, visibly unsettled. Around ten of them—all carrying wooden swords. Their intent was clear to anyone.

“Yes, I am Sansui Shirokuro.”

“...Really?”

Despite Sansui’s calm demeanor, the young men did not hide their suspicion.

Having been deceived for so long, they were unable to trust someone based on attitude alone.

“We came to this town because we heard your disciples were teaching at a local sword school, but then the instructor and assistant instructor were beaten senseless by that Inke guy the lord brought in. Three in a row—killed like it was just a form exercise.”

“I see. He did it alone...”

“We paid a lot to that sword school, and that money is never coming back. We were wondering what to do...and then they say the real Sansui Shirokuro showed up.”

As the young men pressed closer to Sansui, the other townsfolk backed away. They fully expected something violent to occur and wanted distance.

“Whether you’re the real one or a fake, we know you aren’t the guy who tricked us. We get that, so we’re not asking for money. But...”

“If you want to test me...you may.”

Sansui carried neither a sword nor a wooden blade. No ceremonial weapon, no everyday practice sword.

And yet he lifted his hand toward the agitated young men.

“Please, come at me.”

Ordinarily, the young men with wooden swords would have had the overwhelming advantage.

But the man who trained Inke—who defeated three opponents in succession—was now standing before them unarmed and saying “go ahead.” Naturally, they understood what that meant. None were under the delusion that they were being underestimated.

“Just to be sure—when you say ‘come at you,’ you mean we can strike at you right now, right?”

“Of course. Any of you, or all of you at once, if you prefer.”

Even Inke, with his three straight victories, had fought under fair conditions—equal weapons, equal numbers.

Sansui had abandoned even that and still wore nothing but an expression of absolute ease.

“All right!”

One of the young men raised his wooden sword high and charged. It was an overhead strike, very much like Inke’s opening attack days earlier.

“Eek—!”

The townsfolk, though not the targets, still squeaked in fear as the blade came down.

The young man’s strike had such ferocity that it felt almost demonic.

He’s strong.

But it was only raw force. It was momentum born of excitement, a crude swing that hardly deserved to be called skillful.

Sansui stepped back with the smallest possible movement, letting the wooden sword pass him. Then, just like Inke had done days earlier, he stepped on the blade as it struck the ground.

The townsfolk, the young men, and even the attacker himself all reacted with the same involuntary “Ah—!”

“Well then.”

Sansui did not stop there. Keeping his foot pressed on the wooden sword, he began to tilt it. Not downward, but sideways—putting pressure against the flat of the blade and rotating it without changing the angle at which it was embedded in the ground.

The young man’s grip on the sword was tight with both hands. Because of that, as the blade rotated, his wrists twisted as though someone had him in a joint lock.

His hands were still numb from striking the ground, and he instinctively let go.

Sansui had disarmed an attacker—without using a weapon, and without even using his hands—while causing no injury.

Having performed this miracle, Sansui calmly said, “Then I’ll borrow this,” and picked up the wooden sword.

Witnessing this, the townsfolk and the young men shuddered.

“Amazing...”

Even Inke, after his display the previous day, could not have done something like this. In the mere act of picking up the weapon, Sansui showed that he stood on a different level entirely.

“Kyaaaah!”

No one doubted his authenticity anymore, but one of the young men, wanting to see more of the real thing, raised his wooden sword and charged.

He at least avoided the shame of burying the blade into the ground—twice now he’d seen others do that and was determined not to repeat it.

“Perhaps Inke did something like this.”

Sansui stepped aside and placed his left hand on the attacker’s arm.

He truly only placed his hand there—he didn’t grab, didn’t press. But the young man recoiled instinctively at the touch.

“Or did he perhaps do this?”

Keeping his hand on the young man’s arm, Sansui lifted the wooden sword with only his right hand and swung it back. He aimed the pommel at the young man’s forehead.

It was the same kind of strike Inke had used on the third master—though Inke had done it after pinning his opponent down.

“Wah—!”

Inke had crushed a forehead with that blow. So naturally, the young man panicked and tried to retreat.

But Sansui’s foot was already hooked behind his.

The second young man fell straight onto his backside. And even though that was all that happened, he looked as though he had narrowly escaped death.

“Well then, I suppose it would be strange if I never attacked. This time, I’ll make the first move.”

With that, Sansui raised the wooden sword and took a stance as he regarded the remaining young men. There were still plenty of them standing there. Anyone could step forward. He was telling them he would act first.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

His behavior was so far beyond extraordinary that both townsfolk and young students felt their blood run cold.

Inke’s fighting had been like watching a wrathful god—but Sansui’s fighting transcended combat entirely. He handled them gently, almost like children.

“W-We surrender!”

Here, the young men’s spirits finally broke. Unlike their instructors from the previous day, they had committed no crimes, so yielding had no downside.

And so, having confirmed the man before them was the genuine article, they bowed deeply in defeat. Of course, this included the two who had tried to attack him.

“No, no, that’s not necessary. But from now on, you should make sure to study under someone whose identity is clear.”

Sansui returned the wooden sword without the slightest hint of annoyance.

Everyone present—who had feared something dangerous might happen—found themselves even more terrified by what they had actually witnessed, and were left speechless.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave... It seems everyone has finished their business here. I’m traveling with my family right now, so I’d appreciate it if you could be considerate.”

Sansui’s words, politely phrased, nevertheless carried the unmistakable meaning: Do not disrupt me or my family.

Coming from a swordsman of godlike skill, the gentleness only made it more frightening.

The townsfolk, who’d been driven mostly by curiosity, froze, then hastily nodded and began to disperse.

“W-Wait, please!”

But the young men who had surrendered called out, stopping him.

“P-Please! Make us your disciples! We want to study the sword under you!”

They pressed their foreheads to the ground, begging to be accepted.

“When your students left this town, the idea didn’t even occur to us... But afterward, we regretted it—regretted not begging to be taken in as disciples...”

“We want to become strong swordsmen like them. Please, let us join your sword school!”

Even the small fraction of skill Sansui had displayed today was impossible for them to imitate in a lifetime, but they had witnessed his students’ swordsmanship. Training under Sansui could make them like that—something already proven.

That was why they pleaded.

“Everyone...”

Now, Sansui himself was a man who loved teaching—he had made it his profession, in fact. On a personal level, he would have gladly passed on his sword to anyone who sincerely asked. However...

“I’m very sorry, but I am a swordsman in the service of Sepaeda. I cannot freely choose whom I teach.”

As an official instructor under the kingdom, his schedule was already fixed. Regretfully, he had no choice but to refuse.

“If you truly wish to learn my sword... You will have no choice but to petition the lord who governs this land.”

Sansui looked genuinely apologetic. But he drew the line firmly—he could not make a promise he could not keep.

A mere commoner had no way to get an audience with the lord, let alone convince him of anything. It was essentially an impossible condition. Hearing it, the young men choked back tears.

Sansui walked back toward the inn, and naturally, he did not look back.

Watching him leave, the young men finally understood—far too late.

“Damn it...”

Now they understood why those five former students had been so enraged.

To be taught by such a strong, dignified man, to receive approval from him, and then to have that name tarnished—it was infuriating beyond words.

And they understood, too, how proud one must feel to bear the title of Sansui’s disciple.

They wanted to be his disciples as well.

Missing that chance filled them with bitter regret.

And so, the chaos in the town temporarily settled.

No one gathered outside the inn anymore, and the townsfolk who had crowded the plaza returned to their homes.

But once home, every one of them—still flushed with excitement—retold the story of Sansui’s display of skill.

His movement and presence far surpassed even Inke’s performance from the other day. Indeed, everyone praised him endlessly as the strongest swordsman in all of Arcana.

The situation inside the inn was much the same. Employees who had slipped out to watch Sansui fight were now animatedly recounting his strength to their coworkers, stirring up excitement.

Sansui, sensing the atmosphere, looked a bit embarrassed, though he was relieved that it hadn’t turned into a larger commotion.

At the very least, Fanne had completely calmed down. She must have been tired, because she’d already fallen asleep.

Meanwhile, Sansui, Blois, and Lain were deep in conversation.

“When I saw my name on those burnt signboards, I had no idea what was going on...”

“I’d heard rumors before, but it seems frauds using your name have been spreading. It wasn’t considered a major crime, so it wasn’t being strictly cracked down on...”

“Well, of course. I don’t find it amusing, but every lord has plenty of other things to deal with.”

“True... But then why take action only now?”

Judging from the freshly burned state of the sword school, it must have been dealt with recently.

None of them knew how long it had been left alone before that, but it was clear that a crime ignored for a significant amount of time had suddenly been exposed and punished.

“Maybe because they knew we were coming?”

Lain’s guess was correct, and Sansui and Blois both agreed.

“That must be it. They probably cleaned it up so I wouldn’t have an unpleasant experience when I arrived.”

They had eliminated a fraudulent school that could have been longer ignored, just to spare Sansui from discomfort. And they had done so thoroughly, ensuring it wouldn’t happen again. Even if another swindler came in the future, the townsfolk would no longer be fooled.

“I think Lain’s right. So, Sansui, let’s keep it a secret that we saw anything unpleasant.”

“Yes... That’s probably for the best.”

The lord and the combat instructors likely never imagined that Sansui and his family would see the remnants of the destroyed signboards. To have gone to such an effort only to make Sansui feel bad—it would rob them of their good deed.

Thus, the Shirokuro family decided to pretend they had never seen the charred remains on that street.

Part 8 — Pride

The next day, they arrived at the workplace of Lamp and the other four.

Like the Wynne family, this lord was also a regional ruler under the Sepaeda banner and, naturally, his estate was not as luxurious as the Sepaeda main house.

However, everything was well maintained, and there was no sense of hardship at all.

The residence assigned to the five combat instructors was more than spacious enough, clearly reflecting how well they were being treated.

The territory itself was prosperous, and the five were evidently receiving proper hospitality.

With their living situation secure, the only remaining concern was their relationship with the lord.

Sansui couldn’t help but worry—were things going well between them? But the moment they exchanged greetings, that worry vanished.

“Welcome, welcome indeed, Lord Sansui Shirokuro!”

“Yes, thank you for receiving us.”

The presence radiating from the lord was overwhelmingly warm. He made no effort to hide his goodwill, greeting the family with barely contained excitement.

His sincerity reached Blois and Lain as well, allowing the entire family to exchange greetings without any tension.

“Your students are currently at work instructing the soldiers. I’ve told them to come as soon as they finish, so please, make yourselves comfortable. Or if you prefer, I can guide you to the training area where they are right now.”

“No, no. If anything, my presence alone might put needless pressure on the soldiers. And today we came simply to pay our respects. Please don’t trouble yourself.”

“Indeed... The soldiers would likely be far more terrified of you than of me,” the lord joked lightly.

Then he spoke the words they’d come all this way to hear:

“Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.”

“Thank you very much.”

It was a standard congratulatory phrase, but Sansui felt sincerely happy. Blois and Lain were smiling as well, of course.

“In truth, it should have been I who visited first, yet I’ve made you go to the trouble of coming here. I hardly know what to say...”

“What are you saying? I’m just a warrior. I’m not someone worthy of making a lord travel just to greet me.”

“What are you saying? If an invitation from you had arrived, any house would have been delighted to attend. And not through a representative—most would have sent their heads of family or someone close to that rank, gladly.”

Just like the recent joint wedding, invitations in the Arcana Kingdom were sent from house to house, and even if a formal invitation was sent, it didn’t necessarily mean the lord himself would attend. That was always decided by the receiving house.

Ordinarily, such words from a lord might be considered flattery, but this time, he meant every word.

“I hear you received an extraordinary number of gifts from Magyan. You plan to display them at your wedding, of course? It will surely be a ceremony as splendid as the recent joint wedding—perhaps even more so. I imagine many wish they could be there to see it.”

“A-Ah, yes... Matching the dignity of those gifts is taking considerable effort. More so for the artisans than for us, truth be told.”

Sansui phrased it delicately, saying they were putting in “effort” so as not to be rude. In reality, he wanted to say it had been exhausting—overwhelming, even.

All the Shirokuro family wanted was a nice ceremony. But the artisans responsible for adorning the wedding venue—once they saw the gifts—had been sent into an uproar and subsequently turned the entire event into a major undertaking.

They weren’t the ones doing the actual work, but their emotional stamina had been heavily consumed.

Seeing the entire family visibly worn out, the lord quietly grasped the weight of their ordeal.

“If you’ve put that much effort into it, I’m sure the ceremony will be magnificent. When it’s over, you will no doubt feel it was worth doing.”

“I...certainly hope so.”

Of course, such reassurance rarely reaches those still in the middle of their struggle. Some things simply can’t be understood until after they’re done.

“Heh heh... Now then, Lord Sansui. One of the reasons you’ve come to my estate is to confirm that your students are fulfilling their duties properly, is it not?”

“Yes, that’s right. They are my first students. Of course, there’s also Lord Saiga and Lord Tahlan. But those two are in a separate category entirely...”

Sansui pretended to be concerned, but his expression had softened. At the very least, judging by the lord’s demeanor, there was no sign of problems at all.

“The five have been doing very well. They do seem troubled over how strictly they should train me and my son, but their strength as swordsmen is more than sufficient. No... It may be something more than strength.”

At those words, Blois nodded vigorously. Of all people, she understood such things best.

Sansui’s true strength lay in the breadth of his fighting style and the cleverness of his technique.

The five had inherited those qualities; despite lacking innate talent, they could still fight with foresight.

“To be perfectly honest, their skill is almost wasted as simple combat instructors. I’d rather employ them as my elite forces if I could...”

“That is the highest praise one could receive as a swordsman.” Sansui let out a relieved sigh.

There was something undeniably comforting about hearing it spoken aloud.

“The students working in other territories are surely receiving similar evaluations. Truly, you are a top-class instructor.”

“Aha ha...”

Sansui laughed with a childlike shyness. He was a man who would humbly deny being called the strongest—yet when praised through his students, he could accept it wholeheartedly.

Seeing his delighted expression made both Blois and Lain smile as well.

“All your students respect you deeply. To be blessed by such people... Your ceremony will certainly be a wonderful one.”

Part 9 — Letters

A change of scene—this time, in the Caputo Territory.

Shouzo, the strongest mage, was still living in a secluded house under watch and guard.

But because the curse binding him provided a certain degree of safety, he was permitted to go out as long as he was escorted.

Today, he had come to Paulette with a single letter in hand. Though she was busy as the next head of the family, she agreed to see him—because it was Shouzo.

“Lady Paulette, could you take a look at this letter for me?”

“A letter?”

“Yes. I just want to make sure there aren’t any spelling mistakes or missing punctuation...”

If that’s all, he didn’t need to come to me specifically...

Paulette felt a little troubled, but she also understood wanting to choose carefully whom to show a personal letter to. And since the letter was only a single sheet of stationery, she decided to honor his request and read it over for him.

“Hmm...”

Before worrying about spelling mistakes, the writing itself...wasn’t very good.

At the same time, it wasn’t written carelessly. If anything, it was clear he had taken his time—slowly, painstakingly—yet it still came out clumsy. Seeing that it wasn’t laziness made it impossible to call it rude.

Paulette moved on to checking the short letter for errors.

To Master Sansui Shirokuro and Lady Blois Shirokuro,

Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. As I cannot attend the ceremony in Sepaeda, I send this letter of celebration from Caputo.

You already have a happy family. Please continue to protect it from here on. I doubt there will ever be anything you need from me, but should anything arise, please let me know. I will do what little I can to assist.

Shouzo Kyoube

First of all, it was extremely short. So short that, by Paulette’s standards, it might seem insufficient as a wedding congratulations. From a composition standpoint, it felt like a letter with many gaps—something that made one want to insert an extra line between each sentence.

But for anyone who knew Shouzo Kyoube, it was impossible to take badly.

“Is verifying the spelling really all you want me to do?” Paulette asked him knowingly, her expression warm and gentle.

“Honestly, I wanted to write something better. Something longer.”

Shouzo admitted he wasn’t satisfied with the result—but insisted no additions were necessary.

“But I couldn’t think of anything else to write... And I’m scared of saying something weird and upsetting them... But if I asked you to write it, then it wouldn’t be my letter anymore...”

Shouzo Kyoube—the Scarred Fool. He had done his best to think of words to celebrate their marriage, and this letter was the result.

“All I could think of were these plain, ordinary lines... But I thought maybe it’s better not to add anything unnecessary...”

“Yes. I’m sure Lord Sansui will be pleased.”

There was no need for a wedding letter to move someone to tears. If the feeling of celebration was conveyed, the number of words was trivial.

“Lady Paulette, did you write a congratulatory letter too?”

“Yes, I did. Once I finish checking yours, let’s send both letters together to the Wynne family in Sepaeda.”

Meanwhile, in the Domino Republic, Fuushi Ukyou was working through a mountain of documents alongside Setenve, who was now officially his wife.

And to that pile of paperwork, Ukyou had added yet another task. Setenve’s face twisted slightly in displeasure when she saw it.

“A congratulatory letter for Sansui Shirokuro and Blois Wynne, is it.”

“Oh, come on, Setenve... Don’t tell me you’re against it?”

“Of course not. We’ve taken advantage of him often enough. To not even congratulate him on his wedding would be unforgivable. I—and the royal family—still know shame. Besides...”

Sansui Shirokuro had traveled all the way to attend Setenve Arcana’s wedding, and celebrated it with her.

It had made her a bit embarrassed, but undeniably happy.

“This time, it’s our turn to celebrate his. Since we can’t go in person, sending a letter is only proper.”

“You’re right. For us, this is work too. Important, meaningful work.”

In the Disaea Territory, two Japanese people were having a similar conversation: Namely, it was Byoubu trying to persuade Shun Ukiyo to write his congratulatory letter.

“Shun, writing a letter is easy—especially for a wedding. You put the recipient’s name with the proper honorifics, write some seasonal pleasantries, say ‘congratulations on your marriage,’ wish them lifelong happiness, sign your name, and you’re done. How can you neglect something that simple? It’s rude.”

“I agree with everything you said. But whenever I write a letter, something terrible always seems to happen.”

Pandora, the Armor of Disaster, naturally brought misfortune to its surroundings. As its perfect wielder, Shun avoided involving himself in celebratory occasions. Wishing to behave like the ominous being he was, he had been abstaining altogether.

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t think every misfortune in the world is your fault. Bad things happen when they happen. Don’t overestimate yourself.”

“Eliminating dangerous elements is the safest approach. Besides...”

Shun took pride in his profession—but he also understood how others viewed him.

“No one wants to be congratulated by an assassin.”

“Then I’ll write the letter for both of us and include your sentiments. Is that acceptable?”

Shun thought for a moment, then turned toward Byoubu.

“Is there still time? If so, I’ll write one now—quickly.”

“Yes, hurry. And don’t make any spelling mistakes.”

In the Batterabbe Territory, Saiga Mizu was finally beginning his full training as the next head of the family.

It was, of course, extremely difficult. Neither Tainted Blood’s mimicry of movement nor Time Power’s predictions offered any help here. He had to study steadily, assist with the daily work, and learn things one step at a time.

He was only inheriting the current administration’s methods—yet he was learning firsthand just how arduous that truly was.

“Ugh... Looks like that’s the last of today’s lessons.”

Receiving instruction from the current king—his now official father-in-law—Saiga Mizu spent long hours pinned to his desk. The moment the session ended, he collapsed in exhaustion.

“Ah, you’ve really been working hard.”

“No... It’s only expected of the next family head.”

He answered while still collapsed over his desk, struggling through a field where all his previous training meant absolutely nothing.

Maybe putting a person in charge just because they’re strong is actually a terrible idea.

In the Magyan Kingdom, they say the strongest man becomes king—and Saiga had been chosen as the next in line for the throne for that same reason.

In truth, strength was basically his only redeeming quality, and he was starting to feel like he had climbed entirely the wrong career ladder.

I should’ve taken a role like Kyoube... Some kind of personal mage or specialist...

Of course, the job of a family head is not something accomplished alone. At least in Batterabbe, decisions were always made after consulting many advisers.

But even those advisers wouldn’t want a leader who understood nothing of their work and had no interest in learning it. And to join discussions and recognize problems, he had to understand what was normal and what wasn’t.

I have to keep working hard.

He sometimes regretted the path he chose, but quitting was no longer an option. It was because he knew—deeply—how much had been done for him. That awareness was what drove him to push himself forward.

And the fact that you can keep pushing—that’s proof you’ve grown.

The current king watched his son-in-law warmly.

If he had tried to give the Saiga Mizu they’d first met this same training, the boy would have run away at the earliest opportunity.

A strength that could withstand pain, endure it, and overcome it—Saiga had gained that alongside his strength in battle.

He gained that because Happine, Zuger, and Princess Sunae were there for him. And...

Because of that, the current king felt no anxiety whatsoever.

“A-Actually, um...”

Still exhausted, Saiga pulled a letter from his pocket. He had written it in the tiny fragments of time he could spare from his already overwhelming schedule.

“I’d like to send this wedding congratulation letter to Mr. Sansui... Could you check it for me? I’m pretty sure they’ll read it during the ceremony.”

“Of course, I’ll take a look.”

Saiga’s concerns were valid. No matter how close they were as friends or as master and student, he was still the next head of a house, and Sansui was another family’s combat instructor. A letter between them had to be phrased with great care.

But the current head already understood even before reading it how much effort had gone into writing it, and how much gratitude and celebration it contained.

At the main Sepaeda estate, Douve Sepaeda was happily writing a letter when Tahlan Magyan arrived.

He had already finished his own letter for the wedding ceremony and was simply waiting for Douve to finish hers.

“Douve, we need to send the letters soon or they won’t arrive in time. I understand you have a lot you want to write, but at this rate they won’t reach them before the ceremony.”

“Oh, right... I forgot. Here, please send this.”

Douve handed Tahlan a sealed envelope.

“Oh? So you already had it ready.”

“Yes, it was finished—I just hadn’t given it to you. Sorry for troubling you.”

So then...what was Douve writing now?

“If that’s the case, who is this letter for?”

“My, how nosy you are... It’s for Sansui and the others, of course.”

Still smiling gently, Douve finally revealed the truth.

“When I started writing the wedding congratulation letter, I found myself wanting to write all sorts of other things too.”

“I see.”

“I’ve known Sansui, Blois, and Lain for such a long time... To me, they were like my brother and sisters. I was always selfish with them, always causing them trouble.”

“Oh my, that must have been difficult for them.”

“Yes, but really—what else was there to stave off the boredom?”

In front of the husband she loved, Douve reminisced about her once tedious days.

“The kinds of things I want to write aren’t appropriate for a formal wedding letter, so I’m writing another one. It’s not as if our relationship is limited to exchanging letters only at weddings.”

She wanted to congratulate them abundantly, and afterward, she wanted to share even more. Seeing his wife like this, Tahlan smiled with genuine delight.

“Heh heh, then I’ll go send the formal letters now. If we make them wait too long, it won’t be fair to the person delivering them. And once that’s done, I’d like to hear more of these memories you share with Lord Sansui and Lady Blois.”

“But of course. And you’ll tell me your stories as well, won’t you?”

People who could sincerely rejoice in the happiness of others were truly blessed, and these two were exactly those kinds of people.

Part 10 — The Main Event

The wedding took place in the largest ceremonial hall within the Wynne family’s domain. The craftsmen had rented it out for several months prior as they prepared for the event.

Sansui and the others had innocently asked them to display the gifts from Magyan. They were supreme treasures—the kind of which a great nation’s king would send to an equal—and the craftsmen who had volunteered to prepare the wedding hall took to the challenge immediately. They were no less skilled than those of the recent joint wedding, and they staked their pride and dignity on the work, delivering results beyond the payment Sansui had offered. This wedding was a monumental task for them. They threw themselves at the challenge of presenting the Magyan Kingdom’s gifts, and in the end, they matched them evenly.

They must not surpass us, they thought. Overpowering the Magyan Kingdom’s treasures would be wrong—but they must not let themselves become mere background either. We have to stand out just as much, and still blend in... That balance was essential.

They poured their very souls into achieving it.

Countless sleepless nights were spent refining their plans, and even when they did lie down to rest, their minds continued shaping ideas. How do we make it perfect...? What’s still missing...? There were times they clashed with other craftsmen, but always in the end, they always joined forces to reach a single answer. Their aim was to create the finest wedding possible—and to bring happiness to the two who would stand at its center.

The rural ceremonial hall had been transformed into a sacred space. The behind-the-scenes workers had completed their roles, and from here, it was finally time for the stars of the event to take the stage.

In the bridal waiting room, Blois stood in an Arcana-style wedding gown. It was a classic bridal dress crafted by the nation’s best artisan. A few self-proclaimed experts had remarked that “it won’t suit her,” but seeing her now would have surely left them speechless. Blois smiled blissfully as she wore the wedding dress she had always longed for, and one would wonder how anyone could say it didn’t suit her.

“Ahh, Blois...”

“Oh, Blois...”

Seeing their daughter clad in pure white, both her father and mother were struck silent. They had once watched her go out into the world to become a guard, and now she had reached the dream everyone longed for. How could they possibly hold back their tears? The tears of sorrow they had shed over the years, worrying for their daughter’s safety, now flowed anew—matched by an equally overwhelming tide of joy.

“Father, mother...”

Seeing her parents like that, Blois also had to hold back her tears. She had come to understand just how much it meant to put her parents at ease. I finally made them feel safe...

“Truly, I don’t even know how we can ever thank Lord Sansui,” her father said.

“Yes... We owe it all to Lord Sansui,” her mother added.

Because she was a daughter who had suffered so much, they had wanted to send her to someone they could trust completely. The man who had fought beside her in the deadly place they themselves had driven her into—There could be no one more trustworthy, they thought. Such a person was beyond anything they had imagined.

“Blois...” they both sniffed.

They couldn’t bring themselves to embrace their daughter in her wedding dress. It was as if they felt they no longer had the right to. But even so, it was enough for them. More than enough. They didn’t need to touch her. Simply seeing their daughter standing so beautifully in her bridal attire, they knew.

This is already a blessing beyond anything we deserve.

“Go on, Blois. You mustn’t keep Lord Sansui waiting.”

“Yes,” she said.

Guided by the man serving as escort, Blois began to walk. When she entered the ceremony hall, she found the chairs filled with Wynne family relatives, Sansui’s students, and Lain holding Fanne in her arms. Of course, Suiboku—Sansui’s master—was also present. Her family, who knew her well and wished for her happiness, and the people who adored Sansui, her partner, all sat in quiet awe as she made her entrance.

In the hall where they gathered, decorations from the Magyan Kingdom and the Arcana Kingdom—two different cultures—coexisted flawlessly, symbolizing harmony between the nations. It was a realm of beauty that could never be reached by saying “just something normal” or “anything is fine.” The space bathed in that beauty was nothing short of heavenly. And at the end of the aisle along which Blois walked in solemn grace, Sansui waited for her.

He wore formal attire and carried himself with uncharacteristic poise, like an adult. He’s trying to look cool, one might think, but in truth he was simply a man, trying to look his best, waiting for the woman he loves.

“Blois.”

“Sansui.”

They spoke each other’s names as Blois’s slow approach finally reached his side. Sansui embraced her, and then, together, they faced their guests. Seeing the two standing side by side, the guests’ eyes grew moist. Their happiness makes me want to cry, was the thought in everyone’s minds. Wrapped in the warmth of being celebrated, the two simply stood.

“Everyone, thank you for answering our invitation on this occasion... We are profoundly grateful.”

Speaking in place of the couple, Senve Wynne took the role of master of ceremonies.

“With this moment today...Blois Wynne is officially wed to Sansui Shirokuro and will henceforth be known as Blois Shirokuro.” When he spoke those words, Senve was overwhelmed and shed tears once again. After letting out several sobs, he somehow managed to resume. “My apologies... Ahem. The bride and groom already have two daughters, who are also in attendance today. This has been permitted by the current head of the Sepaeda family, and Lord Sepaeda himself guarantees that there is nothing improper about it.” Senve declared this with unwavering resolve.

“Only those who celebrate this new beginning for the two of them are permitted to remain in this space. If anyone believes otherwise, step forward and stand before me!” With Sansui present—as well as his master and his students—Senve made this final proclamation as a father. It was a traditional exchange, yet he was truly determined to protect this ceremony with his own hands. After a moment of silence, he declared, “There is no fool here who would defile this sacred place. Then, everyone—give these two your wholehearted applause!”

The mighty warriors who were Sansui’s students, and the nobles who were Blois’s relatives—both groups rose together in applause. Wrapped in the sound of those blessings, the two embraced and exchanged a kiss. However many hardships awaited them in the future, this moment alone was sacred and inviolable.

“Sansui... How do I look?” Blois asked.

“You’re beautiful, Blois. To me, you’re the perfect bride.”

Sansui spoke from the heart, without thinking about whether it suited him or sounded unlike him.

I just want to praise my wife as she is.

“And what about me?” he asked. “Am I a husband worthy of you?”

“Yes... To me, you are the best husband of all.”

A wedding was a single flower that bloomed in the course of a life. Bringing that flower into full bloom required immense effort, and that flower scattered in an instant, impossible to hold in place. Yet the flower left behind a seed. Even if the blossom faded, the fact that it had bloomed would never be erased.

The seed of the great tree they would grow together—their family—was born here.

Part 11 — Bloodshed

At the Sepaeda family’s main estate, the head of the Sepaeda family was handling some desk work. He had been struggling with such tasks ever since the injuries he suffered at the recent joint wedding, but reading reports, at least, posed no issue. Ignoring the persistent pain in his dominant hand, he continued going through the documents. Partway through, he noticed something peculiar. From all across the Sepaeda-controlled territories, a flood of reports with nearly identical content had arrived.

“Hmm... The aftermath, it seems.”

Most likely, neither the ones submitting the reports nor the ones who had caused the situation in the first place had fully grasped what had happened yet. Only he—who stood in the position where all the information of Sepaeda converged—could have noticed first. But before long, others would surely understand as well.

“Well, it’s not something that can be hidden, I suppose...”

Thinking about how the rumors would spread, Sepaeda let out a small laugh of amusement. A little while later, however, he grimaced. If Sansui and the others learn of this, they won’t find it so funny, he thought.

“I hope they only learn about it after the ceremony...”

May nothing spoil the wedding.

With this wish, he returned his eyes to the reports. In each of them, a lord had reported that they had captured several swindlers falsely using the name “Sansui Shirokuro.” According to them, they had until now looked the other way, but since Sansui was coming to greet them in person, they had decided to take action. Some lords even mobilized soldiers to suppress the criminals by force. As a result, much blood had been spilled.

As he read the reports, Lord Sepaeda imagined how the common people must have felt seeing such scenes. No matter that the captured were criminals—if the arrests were violent, the people must have been terrified. And immediately afterward, when news of Sansui’s wedding reached the populace, many would surely feel as though Sansui himself had demanded a purge for the sake of his ceremony. In truth, the lords had acted on their own, but considering the chain of events, the misunderstanding was not entirely unreasonable.

Thus, in the minds of the people, Sansui and Blois’s wedding became remembered less for its splendid decorations and more for the bloodshed that had unfolded around it.

Chapter 2 — A Secluded Place

Part 12 — Terminus

Suiboku was a man targeted by many nations. He was a craftsman capable of making Coiled Peaches, Divine Ginseng, and noble treasures. Possessing power beyond human understanding and a corresponding sense of pride, he had been furious by the recent actions of these nations encroaching on himself and his home for their own selfish gain. Should I just wipe out every last one of those countries? he had thought at the time. However, thanks to displays of power by Sansui and Shouzo, the surrounding nations withdrew their hands from Suiboku. Peace returned, and he resumed his carefree life of traveling between the royal capital and the forest as before.

Unlike Sansui, Suiboku possessed vast amounts of wisdom, knowledge, and technique, and he had been teaching at the academy in the capital. However, this was the last day he would do so.

In a room, men lay disrobed to their underwear on cloth-covered tables. Clusters of other men huddled around them in sterile clothing, all referencing their textbooks as they inserted thin needles into the bodies of the men on the tables. From the perspective of what was considered normal in the kingdom, it was an unthinkably bizarre scene. It looked like nothing but torture practice. Why else would anyone stick needles—no matter how thin they were—into people? But the men receiving the needles did not seem to be in terrible pain. They grimaced when the needles went in, of course, but it was not unbearable. And although the needles were inserted quite deeply, almost no blood came out.

“Mm, mm...good, good. The Art of Needle Puncturing is dangerous, so you must read your textbooks carefully, examine the patient, and perform the procedure with care. Do not rush—be thorough. And if the patient’s condition worsens, call me immediately.”

Suiboku was currently instructing them in Needle Puncturing techniques. This medical art was dangerous, yes, but with practice, anyone could learn it. This technique had been relatively widespread in his homeland of Hanafuda, and he had introduced it to this land as well.

“The placement of the needles is important, but so is determining what part of the patient is unwell. If you realize the case is beyond your ability, seek assistance from a magic user.”

Those serving as practice subjects were workers from the castle whom Suiboku had selected. They each had some physical condition that needed treatment, and though nervous, they cooperated with the training.

Unlike Lord Suiboku, our skills are unrefined... Our patients must be anxious too.

So thought the students learning Needle Puncture, feeling apologetic.

Meanwhile—

I really don’t want that dangerous man touching me!

—the ones receiving treatment were far more terrified of the monster who could move even the forest itself.

After finishing the Needle Puncturing instruction, Suiboku moved to another classroom to teach the methods of Ki Wave and Ki Blade. They were techniques he had once been reluctant to teach Sansui, yet had decided were necessary. The students in this class were both adults and children, but despite their wide range of ages, they shared one quality: All of them wielded the Hex Arts—Curse Power.

With the exception of Tainted Blood, one’s personality wasn’t determined by the power one carried. Even so, many felt insecure about themselves—and thus sought the proper path all the more. Both the young and the grown trainees strongly wished to learn Ki Wave and the Ki Blade—techniques that could be activated through Hex Arts. And responding to that wish was the spirit of an Immortal.

“You lot have managed to use Ki Wave and the Ki Blade to some extent now. You’re nowhere near the level of my disciple, Sansui, nor of Ran, who bore the Silver Demon Style...but you can at least manifest the techniques.”

By “level,” Suiboku did not mean power. He meant issues like: needing several seconds after touching an opponent before the Ki Wave would fire; lacking the core strength to withstand the blow and thus being sent flying backward; or having too many unnecessary movements. Without a solid grasp of the basics, any attempt to move on to practical application or advanced techniques would fail to produce proper results. However, Suiboku was already planning to leave this land. Regretful and pained as he was, he decided to teach the applications first.

“Ki Wave and the Ki Blade were once known in this region as nonattribute magic, but they were eventually wiped out by the magic that ninety-nine percent of people could use, causing their traditions to vanish. Which is to say, Ki Wave and the Ki Blade are inherently inferior to magic.”

This was something the students themselves had already suspected. Even if they mastered these techniques, they doubted they could defeat a mage of equal level. Suiboku or Sansui could compensate for their weaknesses through their Immortal Arts, but Hex Arts couldn’t provide such support. Not that any of them wanted to study the Hex Arts to begin with.

“But that is merely an issue of how they are used. Against someone like this academy’s headmaster or the likes of Blois—top-tier experts—there is no hope...but against an ordinary mage, the techniques work well enough if you use them cleverly.”

Suiboku clapped his hands sharply, calling someone over. From outside the classroom stepped a soldier wearing a solemn expression. He was no royal guard—just an ordinary soldier employed by the castle. His face was stiff with tension.

“I shall fight this man using only the Ki Blade and Ki Wave. Watch closely and learn.”

Suiboku said it lightly, but to the soldier it was an outrageous proposition. His opponent was Sansui’s master—the strongest monster in the world.

Both the Lightning Slasher and this man are said to be good at holding back, but even so... This is terrifying!

Though his face was twisted with fear, refusing would have been even more frightening, so the soldier had reported as ordered. The students gathered to observe Suiboku and the soldier’s match with earnest, focused looks.

“Come.”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

The soldier readied his sword in his dominant hand and a shield in the other—standard issue, extremely ordinary equipment. Facing him, Suiboku held a wooden sword, just as he usually did.

“Then—!”

With a whoosh, the soldier’s blade ignited. He had activated fire magic—something almost everyone in this world could use. Seeing that, the students could not suppress a sense of inferiority when comparing it to their own ability, Curse Power.

“Hah!”

The soldier charged in with a bold, decisive swing. The possibility of killing or injuring Suiboku was so far outside the realm of reality, it was not even a thought in his head. He swung with full abandon.

“Good.”

Suiboku simply stepped back and dodged. It was a movement obvious to both the soldier and the students.

“A sword imbued with fire magic cannot be fully taken by a Ki Blade. Whether it’s a wooden blade or a steel one in your opponent’s hands, if you try to clash head-on, you’ll lose.”

You can’t block it, so you retreat—perfectly normal logic. But when Suiboku did it, it felt like some kind of terrifying wisdom. In reality, he was merely demonstrating a technique even beginners could easily learn.

“However, a burning sword is troublesome for its wielder as well. It’s not as though the flames spare the one holding it. Since its heat affects the user too, the angles you can swing from become limited.”

Even hearing that, the soldier felt nothing new—this had been drilled into him thoroughly. When using a flaming sword, one either raises it high overhead, holds it in front, or spreads it out to the side. In any case, the wielder must position it so that the flames and heat don’t scald his own body.

“That said, he has a shield. A shield can sufficiently cover the blind spots of a flaming sword. Basic logic.”

Suiboku swung his wooden sword in a completely ordinary strike—so plain that both soldier and students could follow it easily. The soldier, with trained movement, caught the blow on his shield. Suiboku had chosen an angle where the flaming sword couldn’t block it—if he’d tried, he’d have burned himself—so he’d had to use the shield. Since the strike was nothing unusual, the soldier’s reaction was routine and unsurprised.

“Of course, attacking from an angle that neither shield nor sword can defend against is difficult. If we had a spear, it would be different, but then the spear itself could end up being burned.”

This too was basic military knowledge in this country. Any revolutionary ideas a novice might think up had long since been tested, and only the most refined, rugged techniques survived.

“But there are still plenty of ways to approach it...”

Suiboku struck again, once more in a way that was easy to follow. Again, it was an angle the flaming sword couldn’t defend, one that should be taken with the shield. Naturally, just like before, the shield caught it. However, unlike last time, Suiboku did not pull back. Instead, after striking the shield with his wooden sword, he pushed in, applying more and more force. It became something like a contest of strength—blade against shield. The soldier braced his stance firmly, holding his ground.

And because they had ended up in that position, the soldier reflexively performed the movement he had been trained to do. Receive the opponent’s attack with the shield, and while the opponent’s movement is halted, cut him with the flaming sword. It was such a basic, obvious maneuver—so obvious that it became a critical mistake. The soldier acted without thinking, but the students almost shouted.

“Ah—!”

“Quivering Feet.”

From the sole of Suiboku’s foot, a burst of Ki Wave was released. That force added power to his wooden sword, and the soldier—who should have been firmly braced with his hips set—stumbled.

“Whoa!”

The soldier hurriedly dispelled his fire magic. Stumbling meant he could no longer control the flaming sword he held aloft. To protect himself, he reflexively released the spell.

“Oh...!”

Both adults and children saw the massive opening that appeared. Suiboku did not strike again, but if he had, he would have unquestionably won.

“The technique I just used is an applied form of Ki Wave called Quivering Feet. In a locked position like that, you can push your opponent back, just as you saw. What’s important is not to miss the moment when the opponent attempts to shift from that locked state. Get that wrong, and it won’t work nearly as well.”

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.

Part 13 — Journey

Sansui and Suiboku were traveling by riding on top of the clouds. They’d lightened their bodies and ascended into the sky, adjusted the density of the clouds until they could sit on them, and controlled their altitude and aligned themselves with the wind. In this way they moved through the air toward their destination.

Ordinary Immortals—or at least, the ones who could use the Shifting Heavens Art—often traveled like this. It let them move far faster than simply drifting with the wind.

“Heh heh heh... Sansui, I never thought the day would come when I would take you with me on a journey like this.”

“Indeed... I never imagined such a day either.”

In response to Suiboku’s obvious delight, Sansui told a small lie.

To be honest, when he had still been inexperienced, he had once expected to travel together. He’d become the disciple of the man said to be the strongest in the world, and he had wanted to see that man fight from a safe position. Looking back now, it had been an arrogant and presumptuous thought, and taken to its extreme, no different from the demands Douve used to make. It was not, by any stretch, the thinking of a mature person.

In fact, it was only now, when he himself possessed overwhelming strength, that he could finally travel with his master. It was ironic, yet somehow made sense.

I became Master’s disciple because I wanted to grow stronger, so strutting around while being protected by him would’ve been wrong.

Realizing his younger self had been mistaken, he kept the words unspoken.

At the very least, if my student said, “Lord Sansui, let’s travel together! Help me if things get dangerous!” I’d definitely hate it...

When one becomes an adult, the child they used to be becomes embarrassing. And becoming an adult is not merely growing older—becoming someone who guides others is surely part of it.

“Well now, Sansui, our goal is my homeland...but before that, there is one place we must stop. The Great Tengu’s domain.”

“The land where I met the Consecrated Maidens in Magyan, correct?”

“Yes. It is called the Hidden Realm of Cel, ruled by Lord Cel, the Great Tengu. It is an ancient place governed by the eldest of all long-lived beings. Long ago, I visited that land with Eckesachs, fought there...and had my arm torn off.”

For an Immortal, meeting someone who had lived even longer carried great weight—greater for them than for any ordinary human, certainly. Ordinary humans could grow older even if they drifted through each day without purpose, but long-lived beings, precisely because they were long-lived, could not afford to let their days pass aimlessly. If they had nothing to occupy themselves, they would not be able to endure the ages. They lived tens of times longer than ordinary people, trained constantly throughout those years, and continued to seek improvement even then. It was because they possessed such fervor that long-lived beings could maintain their existence.

“Before we return to my homeland, I want to meet face-to-face with him at least once. I want to introduce you as well.”

“Thank you very much.”

“If you ever find yourself troubled by something, you should consult Lord Great Tengu. No matter the problem, he will resolve it immediately.”

If being self-reliant defined an adult, then Sansui was close to that ideal. Yet even a fully capable adult would eventually face something they could not overcome alone. At such times, they could only rely on their predecessors—yet for Sansui, Suiboku was the only such elder. If Suiboku passed from this world, Sansui would lose that connection entirely.

To prevent that, Suiboku likely wanted to entrust his disciple’s future to someone else. The thought of that consideration made Sansui’s chest ache.

“Do not make such a face, Sansui. More importantly...”

Suiboku lightly moved his palm, and the vast cloud they rode began to shift. The upper surface of the cloud, which moments ago had been naturally uneven and wavering, flattened into a perfectly level plane.

Amazing...

Sansui couldn’t believe his own eyes as he watched Suiboku perform the Shifting Heavens Art so effortlessly. Unlike animals or crafted objects, whose forms were fixed and stable, a cloud—an aggregation of countless droplets—required attention down to each individual particle. It was an unimaginably precise form of gravity control, yet for Suiboku, it was nothing more than a preparation.

He’d leveled the ground so they could train.

“Sansui, I have taught you my ultimate technique. But I have not taught you every Art.”

To Suiboku, techniques that shook the heavens were less important than the principles of crossing blades with another. At the very least, that was what he believed. For that reason, Suiboku intended to pass on as many principles as he could until the very last moment.

“Originally, these things should be taught slowly, over time. But I cannot do that. Therefore, I would say it falls to you to devise and test things on your own—yet if I left it at that, it would be unfair to Saiga and Tahlan.”

Realizing what Suiboku was planning, Sansui took several large steps back.

“Then, in this brief time, I must teach you as many techniques as possible.”

“Please do.”

Riding upon a vast cloud carried by the wind, master and disciple faced each other and focused on their final lesson.

“The techniques I am about to show you are ones I created myself. Because they are advanced, you likely will not be able to master them, but it is best that you at least become able to activate them.”

Sansui was five hundred years old—still a youngster by Immortal standards. Moreover, he had spent most of his training on learning the difficult technique known as the State of No Doubt.

His foundations were perfect, but he was not yet at a stage where he could handle applied or advanced techniques. Even if he managed to use them in a makeshift manner, they would be limited to specific circumstances or require considerable time to activate.

Even so, Suiboku now intended to teach him.

“There is a world of difference between mastering a technique and merely using one, but there is also a world of difference between being unable to use something and being able to use it even a little. How far you can make use of a technique after activation, though...” His gaze sharpened. “That is up to you.”

Suiboku drew his wooden sword and raised it high. Then he simply swung it downward in a perfectly ordinary motion. It was clearly outside the range of where the wooden blade could possibly reach, yet he began anyway. Sansui also drew his wooden sword and stayed alert, but he could not read the intent at all.

He’s terrifying...

Sansui often fought as though he saw through his opponent’s intentions—but unlike foresight through temporal power, it wasn’t that he literally knew the future. Now his master, who had also long since attained the State of No Doubt, was using a technique Sansui had never seen before. There was no way to predict it fully—and even if he could have, it didn’t necessarily mean he’d know how to counter.

“Flash Step—Perpetual.”

A dull thunk sounded as the wooden sword struck Sansui’s head. Suiboku had appeared directly before him using Flash Step.

“So this is Perpetual?”

“Just so. Quite frightening, isn’t it?”

To an ordinary person, it would be impossible to tell how it differed from a normal Flash Step, but to someone with the eyes to see, its terror was unmistakable. Suiboku had raised his sword right before Sansui’s eyes, begun to swing, and mid-swing moved and landed the blow. If one attempted this with an ordinary Flash Step, the strike would lose power, since when it was used in the middle of a motion, one always came to a full stop at the destination. No matter how much speed one built while swinging, the strike would lose all momentum by the time it reached the target. That was why Sansui always moved with Flash Step first, then swung his sword only after arriving.

But Suiboku’s Flash Step Perpetual, which he had invented, neither stopped nor slowed. He began his preparatory motion from a distance where the opponent’s attack could not reach him, then moved right in front of the opponent at the very moment the blow reached maximum power, landing the strike immediately. Its terror became clear the moment one stood on the receiving end.

For Sansui, even if he appeared suddenly before an opponent, his strike from there would be a normal downward swing. They would still have—barely—enough time to counterattack, evade, or defend. But with Perpetual, the moment the opponent appeared in front of you, the attack had already landed. There was no time for a counterattack, no room to evade, no chance to defend.

“It may seem unavoidable, but unlike the ultimate Flash Step technique, it can be dealt with. After all, the opponent can see the moment I begin to move. Perhaps this is the proper balance.”

“You’re being modest...”

Suiboku’s ideal was to fight, not to kill unilaterally. He’d already sealed away the ultimate Flash Step technique No Clash of Swords, No Clash of Blades—which allowed him to complete the preparatory motion, approach, strike, and follow through all within Flash Step itself—and chose not to teach it to his disciple.

This technique was less overwhelming—or at least left room for counterplay. Or so said the strongest man in the world. In truth, if it were Saiga, he might be able to deal with it to some extent. But that was because he was Saiga; it was not something others could reasonably handle. Then again, even the current form of Flash Step was already beyond what most could deal with. If any of those who had once fought Sansui and lost learned of this, they would be dumbfounded.

If it’s already nearly unavoidable, what do you mean by making it even less avoidable?

Sansui had no room to imagine such complaints; further techniques were already assaulting him.

“Flash Step—Scattered Land.”

The moment Suiboku activated this next Flash Step technique, Sansui—who had been standing atop the cloud—found his head pressed against the cloud’s surface with his feet pointing toward the sky in the next instant. It was a technique that altered the target’s angle, not their position, making it resemble a throw more than a movement technique.

“Huh?”

A normal throwing technique would have involved the sensation of one’s posture being violently broken, but because this was a “throw” executed through instantaneous movement, that sensation did not exist at all. It wasn’t that Sansui had simply failed to notice it—it truly had disrupted his sense of balance without any preceding signal. It was an even more incomprehensible sensation than being Flash Stepped directly above a pitfall and dropped in.

“Wh-What...?”

Sansui possessed excellent balance, but precisely because of that, having it flipped a full one hundred and eighty degrees left him bewildered. He was already using a technique that lightened his body as they traveled on the cloud, so he remained floating in midair. He no longer understood which way his feet should be pointing, nor what altitude he should maintain.

“You are panicking too much. Calm yourself.”

Sansui drifted helplessly, unable to tell front from back, or up from down. If he had been an ordinary human standing on ordinary ground, he would have simply fallen headfirst, hit the earth, and from that impact regained some sense of direction. It was precisely because he was standing on a cloud—an abnormal condition—that he had fallen into such disorientation.

“M-My apologies... Thank you.”

Suiboku had grabbed Sansui’s body—which was like a floating balloon doll—and set him upright on the cloud. The words of thanks spilling from Sansui’s mouth sounded like those of a man rescued from drowning. In truth, it was Suiboku who’d caused this dilemma in the first place.

“Now then, try using Scattered Land yourself. Perform the technique on me.”

“A-Are you certain?”

“Come now, you intend to use it on people, do you not? In that case, it is only proper to test it on me.”

It felt presumptuous beyond measure, but atop this cloud, there was no one else he could use as a subject. Sansui placed a hand on Suiboku’s shoulder, preparing to perform Scattered Land. He had at least observed the steps Suiboku took before activating the technique, so he could attempt to mimic it. But to actually perform it required total, concentrated focus.

This technique... It’s on a whole different level from either Cowherd or Weaver Girl...!

Just as Suiboku had said, it was far beyond Sansui’s current capabilities. It wasn’t a matter of needing a few seconds to activate; he required several minutes merely to reach the preparation stage.

A Flash Step that changes the opponent’s angle... This is an entirely different level of difficulty from ordinary Flash Step!

A part of him wondered if this was not a technique he should be learning right now, yet at the same time, he was glad he had the chance. From the skill Perpetual Sansui had expected something extraordinary—but Scattered Land was a revelation. The idea of using Flash Step to break an opponent’s posture had never even occurred to him.

Had Suiboku not told him “There exists a technique like this” at this moment, Sansui probably would never have conceived it, even if someday he reached the stage of developing his own techniques. Suiboku had surely devised it after his own long struggle, yet his imagination and spirit of inquiry were enough to make Sansui shudder.

A man who created his own style out of fundamentals and applications...

Right now, Sansui was learning the correct answers. No—he had been doing so from the very beginning. The techniques Sansui had made his own, the teachings he had passed on to his own students—those were merely things that Suiboku had already tried and tested and pitted against other techniques to find the best, most correct methods. Sansui was once again reminded, more deeply than ever, of something he had felt many times already.

To have become this man’s disciple...really is the ultimate cheat.

Watching his disciple drift into such thoughts, Suiboku laughed from the depths of his heart.

Night arrived even atop the clouds. In fact, with the sun’s position more visible than on the ground, the change was all the more striking. The unobstructed sky gradually reddened and sank into darkness. Riding the wind as they traveled, the two decided to end their training at sunset.

“Well then, today’s training ends here. You still cannot activate Scattered Land, but we have several days before we arrive. By then, you should at least have its form.”

To an outside observer, Sansui had merely been touching Suiboku and standing still the entire time, but in truth, he had been straining himself to recreate his master’s techniques, and was now exhausted to the point of collapse. Drenched in sweat, Sansui nodded as his master urged him.

“Hmm... Heh heh.”

Suiboku looked at him and laughed joyfully.

“I have lived four thousand years, and for my final journey to be with you, to be a continuation of the five hundred years I have spent at your side...words cannot express how happy a journey this is.”

The people called Immortals were, by nature, fond of training. Whether learning from their predecessors, studying on their own, or instructing their disciples—they enjoyed all of it. But what they took the most pride in was passing down the skills they had learned or discovered to their successors, those who were like sons to them.

“I’ve made you accompany me for a very long time. But stay with me...just a little longer.”

Under the starlight, Suiboku pleaded with Sansui. Then, without another word, he lay down upon the cloud.

“Master...”

Seeing his master like that, Sansui felt it anew. He had trained for five hundred years in the forest, witnessing many deaths. Through this, he had reached the mentality of an Immortal in which death was an ordinary thing, something that was never strange to encounter at any moment.

And yet—even he felt reluctant to let go of his master sleeping on that cloud.

The days that should have continued were about to end. Soon, Suiboku would finish his training and depart from this world, never to meet him again. Even if his days in the mortal world ended, even if the time came to return to that forest, Suiboku would no longer be there waiting. There would be no one to ask How did it go? or to say Well done.

“Master...”

Once again, Sansui felt how distant this man truly was. He had already been an unparalleled genius, and on top of that, had accumulated four thousand years of training—reaching a realm even other Immortals could not attain. It was a cliché sentiment, but Sansui still wanted to learn more. He still wanted to be taught. He wanted to learn everything Suiboku held within him and make it his own. And someday, he wanted to proudly declare himself Suiboku’s successor.

But that wish would not be granted. Sansui would have to stand alone now. Just as his own students, aware of their inexperience, had nevertheless gone off to serve in the world.

Yes... What I can do is give my master peace of mind. Not cling to him but give my utmost so he may finish his training in tranquility.

He wanted to linger in emotion, to speak his heart—but he held those feelings close and lay down upon the cloud. For now, he would rest properly and prepare for tomorrow’s training. That was the best thing he could do—and he believed it would reassure Suiboku. Eventually, Sansui began to sleep, still maintaining the technique that lightened his body.

O gods... I thank you for granting me such a fine disciple.

Feeling his disciple’s conduct, Suiboku soon drifted into sleep as well.

Sansui, thank you. To be sent off by a disciple like you... Truly, I am a fortunate man.

He maintained both the technique sustaining the cloud and the one guiding the wind. It meant that he had no intention of delaying their arrival, no intention of prolonging his final hours—and showed that he believed he no longer needed to.

Part 14 — Underground

Suiboku and Sansui reached the skies above the Magyan region in only a few days. Considering that it had taken Sansui more than half a year to travel from Arcana to here previously, their speed was nothing short of astounding. But of course—this time, they had moved like the wind itself.

“Now then... It should be around here.”

Suiboku stopped the wind and released the technique that maintained the cloud, which subsequently disintegrated into pieces and scattered. He could have let it fall as rain, but there was no particular reason to do so. Slipping through their cloud platform, the two of them descended slowly toward the ground.

It granted them a bird’s-eye view of the land—far easier to read than any map—and from that vantage point, Sansui felt something off. In the land around Magyan, there was no terrain or formations that could possibly hide anyone.

“Master. Has the terrain changed since the last time you visited the Hidden Realm of Cel?”

“Hmm? Why do you ask that?”

“I simply...cannot see where a hidden land could possibly be obscured.”

“There’s no way you— Ah. I see. You do not know.”

At first, Suiboku had tilted his head, wondering what nonsense his disciple was saying. But he understood immediately afterward and clapped his hands.

“The Hidden Realm of Cel—or rather, any ‘hidden realm’—is concealed underground by Voidspace Arts.”

Voidspace Arts were a type of Immortal technique completely unfamiliar to Sansui. Since his master had never taught it, of course he wouldn’t know.

“Just as the Immortal Art that lightens or increases one’s weight has the higher form Inner Body Techniques that can affect untouched objects, the spatial-movement art Flash Step also has a higher form: Voidspace Arts, which distorts space itself.”

“What kind of technique is it?”

“A technique that isolates entire worlds. Think of this world as a stretchable cloth. If you place a weight on the cloth, it sags, yes? Now imagine pushing that weight in even further—and then tying off that sunken portion with a cord. That tied-off pocket becomes a world entirely separate from the mundane realm.”

Naturally, using Voidspace Arts didn’t literally drive land into the ground; it was only a metaphor. Sansui still had only a vague grasp of the concept, but he nodded earnestly as he listened.

“To create a place worthy of being called a hidden realm, one must spend decades gradually depressing that ‘cloth.’ If you rush the process, the cloth will tear.”

“What happens if it tears?”

“The cloth itself mends immediately. However, anything that was on the cloth will—at best—be shredded beyond recognition.”

“At best?”

“At worst, it won’t remain in this world at all. Outside the cloth lies a realm where none of the rules from atop the cloth apply. In fact...I am not even sure one should call it a ‘realm.’ It is, first and foremost, outside the world.”

Suiboku spoke as someone who had clearly experienced it, recalling it with a faint nostalgia. But since that reminiscence had little to do with the matter at hand, he quickly returned to the main topic.

“In any case, a hidden realm is a place cut off from the world by Voidspace Arts. Unless the entrance is found, one can never enter. And the location of that entrance can be shifted at will by the practitioner. It is truly a hidden realm—ordinary people will never find it.”

A land lifted by Earth Manipulation Arts could be hard to reach even if its location was roughly known. But a realm tucked away into a pocket of the world’s “cloth”—no one could even know where the entrance was, let alone arrive there.

“With my lack of skill, I cannot sense anything. How did you find it, Master?”

“I have mastered Voidspace Arts as well, so I notice when I approach an entrance. This time, you told me it was ‘somewhere around here,’ so after drawing near, I simply searched the surroundings. When I came here with Eckesachs, however, we spent several decades searching before we found it.”

When Suiboku said “near,” he likely meant “within visible range from above the skies.” To an ordinary sense, that range was absurdly vast. Even so, Suiboku—who could search such a scope while traveling freely through the sky—had still once needed decades. A normal person, even with thousands helping over hundreds of years, would never manage it. Unless, by an unbelievable stroke of luck, they happened to catch a resident of the hidden realm venturing outside.

So if I ever need to rely on the Great Tengu, I’d have to begin with searching for decades? And that’s assuming I master Voidspace Arts. As I am now, it would take me hundreds of years and still be impossible...

Growing pale at just how difficult it was to depend on others, Sansui once again realized the immense distance between himself and his master. Truly, he was nothing more than a strong but inexperienced novice.

“Now then... It should be around here.”

In a barren wilderness devoid of large trees, there stood an oddly conspicuous pile of massive rocks. There was a hole just big enough for a single person to pass through, but no one would ever believe that a hidden village lay beyond it. It was a fitting disguise, despite looking a little out of place; landscapes like this existed in the world by the thousands—tens of thousands, even.

Still, there was something about it that was unmistakably strange.

“Indeed... There are many footprints here.”

Upon close inspection, one could see an unnaturally large number of tracks: evidence that many people had passed through this path leading to the hole.

“So there is. If traffic in and out is heavy, one cannot possibly hide the place perfectly. Therefore, the entrance’s location must be changed from time to time.”

It would be difficult for a person to deliberately find the place, but someone passing by and discovering it by chance was entirely possible.

The Consecrated Maidens were captured not that long ago, yet they still haven’t moved the entrance...

The camouflage technique itself was impressive, but their lax sense of security was astonishing. Perhaps, since they could change it at any time, they felt no need to do so urgently.

Well... If they had changed it, I’d be the one in trouble.

Sansui let his thoughts wander for a moment but decided not to worry too much about it.

“Let us enter. And I’ll say this beforehand—do not be discourteous.”

“Yes, Master.”

Following the well-trodden path, Suiboku and Sansui slipped into the gap between the rocks. Ordinarily, such an opening would lead immediately to a dead end. Yet this one extended deeper. It was narrow—just enough for one adult to squeeze through—and the footing was nothing but uneven stone. A child running through it would surely fall; it was a poorly maintained path.

Incredible...

Only after entering did Sansui realize the path’s true peculiarity. The sensation of the Flash Step technique—Voidspace—permeated the passage. Though he stepped forward only once, it felt as though he had advanced dozens of paces. A normal person would never notice the supernatural distortion, but as a practitioner of the Art, Sansui could not help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer difference in skill.

Nervous yet exhilarated, he followed after his master. The once-dark tunnel began to show signs of light ahead. At last, they reached the end of the confined passage. What lay beyond was a sealed-off paradise—worthy of being called an underground world.

“Whoa...”

Sansui couldn’t stop himself from gasping in awe.

“This is a hidden realm formed by the Voidspace Art. It is a rare technique—observe it well.”

He couldn’t tell where the light source was, yet the place was as bright as midday. The ground curved upward like the inside of a sphere, reaching all the way to what should have been the ceiling, yet every surface pulled “down,” as though possessing its own gravity. This, too, was likely the result of space being distorted.

“There are houses on the ceiling, forests along the sides... Even rice paddies. This is truly a realm outside of reality.”

“How nostalgic. In ages past, I visited here with Eckesachs... Nothing has changed.”

After an eternity, Suiboku had returned to a place he once knew. The fact that nothing had changed was enough to fill him with deep emotion.

“Does it rain here as well?”

“Aye. In principle, the climate matches that of the location where the entrance lies. Day and night too.”

“I see—so it’s not completely isolated.”

The two chatted casually, but from the perspective of those around them, they were intruders. Since there was only one entrance, and two strangers had boldly walked through it, alarm bells began clanging throughout the settlement.

“Mmm.”

“Oh.”

Only now did the two realize they had arrived without any prior notice. Not that they could have arranged anything from such a distance, but even so, the fault lay with Suiboku and Sansui, not the people of the hidden land.

“Who are you?!”

“Did you follow the Consecrated Maiden warriors when they returned?!”

“I told you all we should’ve relocated sooner!”

Rugged farmers burst out as though they had dropped their fieldwork on the spot, brandishing their farming tools like weapons. With fierce expressions, they surrounded the two Immortals.

“A child...? No, even if he is, we can’t just let them leave!”

“That’s right—if they go around telling people, we’re finished! We take them down right here!”

The enraged farmers began stirring their inner ki and blood. It was the first time Sansui was seeing the secret Rare Arts passed down within this hidden realm.

“Master, what shall we do?”

Sansui, visibly uneasy, asked his teacher how they should respond. Since he had been told not to behave discourteously, and since they were clearly at fault for intruding, he could not raise a hand.

“Now, now—wait a moment. The commotion will settle soon enough.”

Suiboku’s demeanor was utterly composed. It was as if he were saying that so long as one remained calm and dignified, matters would resolve themselves without trouble.

And indeed, that was exactly what happened.

“Wait a second... Don’t tell me you two are Immortals?!”

Just before the attack could begin, one of the agitated farmers suddenly realized it. Perhaps it was the sight of the pair standing unfazed while surrounded by murderous adults—it was strange enough to make him guess their true nature.

“Immortals—long-lived beings who practice the same Arts as the Tengu!”

“Come to think of it, their clothes look similar to Lord Fukei’s...”

“No, wait... The Consecrated Maidens said they met Suiboku’s disciple...”

“Then these two are—?! The legendary monster and his disciple?!”

The murderous tension dissolved into chaos and confusion—but at that exact moment, a voice amplified by Immortal Arts echoed from the center of the underground world.

“That is correct.”

At the sound of that voice, everyone except Sansui dropped to one knee. Even Suiboku turned toward the voice’s direction and bowed with deep reverence.

A moment late, Sansui knelt as well.

“It’s been a while, Suiboku. What, about twenty-five hundred years?”

“It has been far too long, Great Tengu.”

“And that young one over there—that’s your disciple, the one who looked after our little runaway?”

“Indeed. I have come today precisely to introduce this disciple.”

For an outsider, the sight of Suiboku humbling himself so completely would have been shocking. No matter how ancient the other party was, given Suiboku’s previous behavior, it was almost unbelievable.

“Well, talking without showing my face isn’t ideal. I’ll send someone to guide you. Come on over.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Great Tengu—the unseen ruler of this sealed world—had spoken. No one dared raise a complaint, and the situation settled at once.

Before long, several flustered young girls came running. They were the shrine maiden priestesses who, just recently, had been coerced into aiding Queen Sukreen during the failed coup attempt in Magyan. The girls appointed as guides bowed their heads to the surrounding farmers before approaching the two and offering their greetings.

“It has been a while, Lord Sansui. Lord Suiboku, it is an honor to meet you for the first time...”

“The Great Tengu has ordered us to guide you. Please, come this way...”

Their smiles were stiff—clearly forced. Having gone so far as to borrow money from Sansui just to return home, they were likely being treated as criminals even here in their own village. The gazes cast upon them were harsh.

“Very well, we are in your hands. Come, Sansui.”

“Yes, Master.”

Their destination was the center of this hidden land: a large hermitage atop a mountain that rose like a pillar.

They approached a sharply towering peak, where the Great Tengu Cel awaited them. A spiraling mountain path wrapped around it like a coiled staircase, forcing them to circle the mountain again and again as they climbed. And the higher they climbed, the lighter their bodies became.

In this sanctuary called Cel, the “ground” was the walls of the sphere and “up” was the center. Walking on the surface created no noticeable difference, but climbing a tall mountain meant drawing closer to the center, where gravity from all directions balanced out, making one feel lighter. Confused by this strange phenomenon, Sansui continued ascending with his master and the guides. Once they reached the end of the steps and arrived at the summit, the shrine maiden priestesses came to a halt.

“This is as far as we may go. Please forgive us for not accompanying you to the end.”

At the top stood a single-story house—wooden, plain, seemingly containing only one room. It seemed the Consecrated Maidens were not permitted to enter.

“Thank you for guiding us here. Come, Sansui.”

“Yes.”

From the presence he sensed emanating from the building, Sansui understood the reason. Beyond this point, no mortals were allowed—this was a realm for the long-lived alone. The two who possessed that qualification stepped solemnly into the hermitage.

The wide hall with its wooden flooring was filled with Tengu seated in rows. Around ten of them—boys and girls in appearance, though all long-lived beings—sat directly on the floor without cushions. Each wore attire reminiscent of ascetics, and from their bodies radiated a palpable aura of immortal energy. For Sansui, who until now had seen no long-lived being other than his own master, encountering ten of them all at once was nothing short of astonishing.

At the highest seat sat a boy wearing an insolent expression, radiating raw authority. He alone sat upon a cushion, a clear sign that his rank was far above the others. Suiboku and Sansui knelt directly on the wooden floor and bowed low. Sansui, almost instinctively, offered the deepest respect befitting a junior sage before a great elder.

“Once again...it has been a long time, Great Tengu Cel.”

“Yes, it really has been.”

That boy was the man who had undergone more training than anyone alive—a master craftsman of mystical treasures, the Great Tengu Cel. His expression was relaxed and almost breezy. Even knowing full well who Suiboku was, he showed no sign of caution.

“When I first saw you, I thought one hell of a monster had shown up...and somehow you’ve gotten even better over these last twenty-five centuries,” Great Tengu said.

“I am honored.”

“Don’t ‘I am honored’ me. Look at my disciples here. Who do you think is shrinking in fear? It’s not you or me.”

The Great Tengu spoke with an easy familiarity, grinning as he gestured to the Tengu around him. Every one of them sat with tense expressions, warily watching Suiboku. While Tengu and Immortals were technically different, their essence was the same; they could perceive just how abnormal Suiboku was, and their apprehension showed.

“Not so long ago, Fukei showed up here saying he was going to kill you.”

“Fukei came here?”

The unexpected name darkened Suiboku’s face, but the Great Tengu continued unfazed.

“I wanted to see what he could do, so I had him spar with one of the Rapid Iron Style practitioners...and he was strong. My disciples watched the fight and became convinced that Fukei was unbeatable.”

When one has a clear point of comparison, strength becomes far easier to judge. Having witnessed Fukei firsthand and felt his overwhelming might, the man who defeated him naturally appeared even more terrifying.

“How was he?” the Great Tengu asked Suiboku.

“My elder brother Fukei...was stronger than anyone I have ever fought.”

“Did you struggle?”

“No. Not at all.”

Suiboku answered with complete honesty.

“Compared to me now, he was no match whatsoever.”

“Of course not, you monster.”

The Great Tengu laughed in delight as he commented on the crestfallen Suiboku.

“No matter how far Fukei honed himself, he was still just an Immortal—a user of Immortal Arts. As long as he used the same techniques as you, he was fighting on the same playing field. There was no way he could win.”

He chuckled still, shoulders shaking.

“After all, you’re the unbeatable monster—the one even dragons couldn’t stand against! If you had existed ten thousand years ago, the gods wouldn’t have bothered making the Eight Sacred Treasures!”

The peculiar remark made Sansui tilt his head. Dragons as a metaphor for strength, he understood. But “ten thousand years ago,” and “Eight Sacred Treasures”—those statements were far too concrete. It sounded as though there was a specific, factual reason the gods created them.

“Mmm... Great Tengu, if I may be so bold, my disciple here is a man granted by the gods. If it pleases you, would you share one of your old war tales with him?”

“Hm? Oh? A warrior of the gods, huh? Doesn’t look all that special, though...”

Sensing Sansui’s doubt, Suiboku steered the conversation so that the Great Tengu would speak rather than himself. Before a living piece of legend, he likely wished to avoid offering a clumsy explanation.

“Fine, I don’t mind. I’ve met warriors of the gods several times. According to them, humans in the world you people were born in have history stretching thousands, even tens of thousands of years. Dig up the earth, and you’ll find bones from tens of thousands of years ago.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

To Sansui, that was simply common sense. It should have been the same in this world—human bones from millennia past ought to exist. Even if none had been found, to truly have none at all should have been impossible.

“They don’t exist here. In this world, more than ten thousand years ago, there were no humans—and no ancestors of humans either.”

Ten thousand years was a blink in biological history. Whether you spoke of Homo erectus or Australopithecus—or depending on how broadly you defined humanity—it was impossible for there to be no human ancestors at all. Even prehuman lineages should have existed.

“The humans living in this world are the descendants of people who immigrated here from a ‘different world,’ just like you.”

Hearing the Great Tengu’s explanation, Sansui was convinced despite himself. Indeed, even he had never found any trace of ancestral bones anywhere in this world... If humanity had migrated here ten thousand years ago, then the story matched perfectly.

“More than ten thousand years ago, the ancestors of the people in this world lived in another realm—what they called the ‘Old World,’ or ‘Mother World.’ There, alongside humans, were other creatures who used language, all wrapped up in that lovely little game called survival of the fittest.”

To Sansui—and to the Japanese—this world was the fantastical one: Magic existed, legendary weapons could speak, Immortals lived for millennia. Yet there were no so-called monsters. No beasts that preyed on humans, no creatures that spoke like humans, no beings that wielded magic like humans. Because such things did not exist, one could never meet them.

But the Great Tengu before him—and the Eight Sacred Treasures—were exceptions. They had met such beings in a different world entirely.

“But then one day...the dragon, the strongest creature in that world, said something outrageous. Knowing full well that the ‘god’ you met actually existed, it declared: The god is beneath my notice. I alone am the greatest being in existence!”

Dragons. The strongest species in that world. A boastful declaration. Humans did the same all the time—Sansui found nothing strange in that alone.

“The other monsters didn’t stop it. Makes sense, right? Why protect the dignity of some god who never shows its face, when you can flatter the dragon that’s standing right there ready to stomp you? But humans were different. They had the guts to say they were greater—and picked a fight.”

The Great Tengu burst into youthful laughter.

“Should’ve quit while they were ahead. Humanity as a whole went and challenged the dragon. Worse yet, they attacked the other races who swore fealty to the dragon, trying to wipe them out. Naturally, the dragon and its followers turned right around and decided they’d exterminate humanity instead.”

In Sansui’s eyes, the Great Tengu looked every bit a yokai. This man did not think of himself as human; he clearly considered humans some entirely separate species.

“At this rate, humanity was finished. So the god made the Eight Sacred Treasures and bestowed them to the humans.”

So that was why the Eight Sacred Treasures had been created—to oppose beings beyond human. It made a certain sense...yet Sansui could not fully accept it.

“Forgive my forwardness, Great Tengu... I have laid eyes on all Eight Sacred Treasures, but none of them seemed powerful enough for such a purpose.”

Take the divine sword Eckesachs, for example. Sansui had used it himself, but it had never struck him as an especially powerful weapon. In the hands of Saiga or Suiboku, of course, it became formidable—but that was only because they were formidable. If an Immortal or someone taught by one used it, perhaps it would shine, but an ordinary genius wouldn’t reach such heights just by wielding it.

If that level of weaponry could truly defeat a dragon, then perhaps dragons weren’t such a threat to begin with.

“Huh? That’s because you were using it against people of this world. The Eight Sacred Treasures were forged to fight monsters. They have shackles—constraints—that prevent them from exerting their full power against the humans of this world.”

Again, the Great Tengu had an answer that made sense. For legendary weapons, the Eight Sacred Treasures had seemed underwhelming. Apparently, they had simply never had the chance to display their true worth.

“Back to the story. The god chose eight humans and granted them the Eight Sacred Treasures: The Ultimate Legendary Sword, Eckesachs, to Roland. The Demon Blade of Vengeance, Dainsleif, to Lonely. The Armor of Entropy and Disaster, Pandora, to Shark. The Mirror of Consumption’s Truth, Ungaikyo, to Baikur. The Bountiful Silo of Compassion, Danua, to Sativa. The Divine Spear of Rebellion, Vajra, to Roller. The Ark of Survival, Noah, to Bifu.”

Counting them off with nostalgic fondness, the Great Tengu raised his thumb and pointed at himself.

“And the Sacred Chalice of Will, Elixir—that one was entrusted to me.”

“Then, Great Tengu, you were the first to use the Elixir?”

“Damn right. Elixir was created for me, the man with the strongest will to live among humanity at the time.”

With a strangely self-deprecating gesture, the Great Tengu hunched his shoulders.

“But the god never gave the Eight Sacred Treasures enough power to actually exterminate monsters. No matter how hard the eight of us fought, we could only retreat before the dragons’ vast numbers.”

According to Shouzo, if the god had wished it, the divine weapons could have been made far stronger. But the god had never intended to favor humans to that extent.

“In the end, humans lost and fled their world. The few survivors piled aboard Noah and escaped into the void. After many twists and turns, they eventually arrived in this world.”

From those words, the implication was clear. The god had never intended humanity to win—only to save a remnant and help them escape, and the Eight Sacred Treasures had been crafted for that purpose.

“The people living in this world now are the descendants of those survivors.”

It was, in every sense, a creation myth. Something so obvious to the people of this world that no one bothered to talk about it. Sansui himself had never explained Japan’s founding myths to a foreigner; unless one actively sought them out, they were nothing one paid attention to. Even though he had met the Eight Sacred Treasures in person, he had never questioned why they had been created.

His own ignorance was shameful.

Master... You could have told me...

He knew, of course, that one must take initiative in learning—but still, he couldn’t help harboring a tiny bit of resentment toward his master. The man never told him anything.

“Man, that time was such a pain. Only about a thousand people survived, so I basically had to maintain culture and civilization all by myself. Honestly, if I hadn’t been there, humanity might’ve died out even after reaching the new world.”

So that’s how it is. Sure enough, during Ukiyo’s time too, being a leader who couldn’t be killed was a huge advantage...

Listening to the Great Tengu, Sansui finally understood. Elixir—the artifact that drastically reduced its wielder’s chance of dying—was incredible, but in terms of national utility, there was only so much it could do. At best, it could protect the supreme ruler. Compared to the other seven treasures, it seemed the least valuable. But if it had been created specifically to keep this man alive, it made perfect sense.

The greatest treasure-maker in existence, an Immortal sage. No matter how far civilization collapsed, no matter how catastrophically the population dwindled, as long as this man lived, humanity could recover. Elixir had been created so that he would survive.

“Well, that was all about ten thousand years ago. At this point it’s just me, the god, and the Eight Sacred Treasures left—hardly matters anymore.”

The Great Tengu glanced at what Suiboku and Sansui wore at their waists. Both carried nothing more than simple wooden swords.

“That’s enough about me. I’d like to hear your story now.”

With a youthful smile that betrayed no sign of age, the Great Tengu spoke.

“Yes... Then, if I may begin with what happened after I arrived here...”

And so, Suiboku began his tale.

How he fought side by side with Eckesachs, destroyed countless nations, struggled in the village of Tempera, agonized over his own way of life, and finally parted with Eckesachs. How he secluded himself in the forest to resume his training, devised the Four Ultimate Techniques only to abandon them, and ultimately reached the state known as the State of No Doubt. At that time, he had been given a disciple by the god—trained him, passed down the Ultimate Techniques, and sent him back into the mortal world.

And then he had fought Fukei...and laid him to rest.

“I’d believed...that aside from you and the Sacred Treasures, there was no one left who remembered me. But Fukei survived—and he bore hatred toward me. Most likely, also...”

“Ah, you are thinking of Kacho, yes? He’s still waiting for you, even now.”

The Great Tengu plainly stated what Suiboku had already suspected.

“I see.”

With a voice tinged with remorse, Suiboku lowered his gaze.

“You’ve become...remarkably normal.”

Seeing that expression, the Great Tengu looked a little surprised. The other Tengu were the same—astonished at how much the man once called a raging god had changed. They had met Fukei. They knew just how deep Fukei’s hatred for Suiboku ran. And Suiboku himself had just finished recounting his own brutal deeds. For such a monstrous being to now feel something so ordinary—guilt toward his master—was shocking.

“You gained a disciple worthy of inheriting your Ultimate Techniques, and now you’ve grown sentimental, huh?”

“If I may be so bold.”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing.”

The Great Tengu turned his gaze to Sansui once more.

“Sansui Shirokuro, was it? Hard to believe someone like you was trained by Suiboku—you look like the picture of a proper Immortal. But you’re also the ‘strongest swordsman’ acknowledged by him. So? Got any heroic tales to share?”

“Well...”

Compared to his master, the scale was smaller, of course—but Sansui, too, had accumulated his share of violent exploits. And unlike Suiboku, he was nowhere near the mental state required to casually recount them to an ancient legend.

“Sounds like you’ve got plenty. I don’t mind hearing them, but more than that, I’d rather see for myself.”

The world’s greatest treasure craftsman smiled mischievously, then proposed something outrageous.

“How about fighting one of the descendants of the man who once cornered Suiboku—the wielder of the Rapid Iron Path?”

Back then, Suiboku—wielding Eckesachs and already a fifteen-hundred-year-old monster—had been pushed to the brink.

And the Great Tengu had just suggested that Sansui face the bloodline of that very opponent.

Part 15 — A Formidable Enemy

The Great Tengu, the eldest of them all, issued a proclamation to the residents of the Hidden Realm of Cel. A representative was to be chosen and made to compete against Suiboku’s disciple. When the people of the hidden realm learned of this, an uproar broke out. Because they lived with almost no contact with the outside world, the mere mention of an exchange match sent them into a frenzy of excitement.

If the opponent had been Suiboku himself, it might not have caused such enthusiasm. Fukei had visited this land some years earlier, so the adults of today still remembered him well. Suiboku, who had defeated that very Fukei, seemed utterly impossible to beat.

But if it was only his disciple, then perhaps there was a chance. If they won, it would be a spectacular upset.

The villagers, brimming with excitement, began making preparations and putting their appearances in order. The practitioners of the consecrated path donned the attire of shrine maidens and priests, and the practitioners of the Rapid Iron Style dressed like warrior monks. Normally, both groups wore the clothes of ordinary villagers or farmers, but now they had changed into formal ceremonial garb.

As for the Tengu, they remained clad as ascetics, gathering together in formations of three. Everyone sat atop cloths spread across the grassland, motionless as they waited for the festival to begin. There was no sound at all, yet the spectators’ fervor threatened to overflow through their gazes and trembling bodies.

“Suiboku, who once visited this land, has come again, bringing his disciple with him. In order to test the extent of that disciple’s abilities, a match has been arranged.”

The Great Tengu served as the master of ceremonies, but his expression was far from solemn; a broad smile sat upon his face. He was clearly unable to contain his anticipation at seeing how his village’s representative would fare against Suiboku’s disciple.

“We Tengu will provide Divine Ginseng and noble treasures, while the Consecrated Maidens will offer support. We will marshal the full strength of the hidden realm for this battle, though the one who will actually fight is but a single practitioner of the Rapid Iron Style.”

Who would fight had already been decided. The combatant was fully armed with noble treasures, making it obvious even before the announcement. Even so, everyone found themselves holding their breath.

“Rapid Iron Style user, Eighth Rank—Locomo Lloyd!”

Among the many practitioners of the Rapid Iron Style, the one whose name the Great Tengu called was Locomo Lloyd. He was just shy of middle age, and his raw physical abilities had declined slightly from their peak. However, years of rigorous training had honed his technique, and in terms of actual combat prowess, he could confidently be said to be at his strongest now.

“I am Locomo Lloyd,” he said.

That was precisely why he stepped forward with confidence.

“I am Suiboku’s disciple—chief combat instructor of the Sepaeda House, one of the Four Great Noble Houses of the Arcana Kingdom. My name is Sansui Shirokuro.”

While feeling a flicker of surprise that the Rapid Iron Style even had formal ranks, Sansui drew the attention of everyone around him and drank a Golden Balm right before their eyes. Even knowing that this act demonstrated his immaturity—proof that he could not yet use even the basics of alchemical arts—he still presented himself as he was, raising his wooden sword to a middle guard.

“Lord Suiboku’s martial renown remains in this village. To have the honor of opposing you, his acknowledged disciple, brings me great joy.”

“I will do my utmost, however unpolished I may be, to live up to those expectations.”

It could be said that the battle had already begun.

Having been raised in the hidden realm, Lloyd had a keen eye for noble treasures. He could tell immediately that Sansui carried none at all, and was equipped as lightly as he appeared. Lloyd surmised that it meant Sansui had great faith in his own strength.

Likewise, Sansui was carefully observing Lloyd. The clothes Lloyd wore were themselves noble treasures, and he could sense what felt like even more noble treasures concealed beneath them. Furthermore, from within Lloyd’s body, Sansui sensed a rich, abundant circulation of ki and blood. He had likely consumed both Coiled Peaches and Divine Ginseng prior to this battle. On top of that, he was receiving an overwhelming supply of support from all of the Consecrated Maidens in the audience.

Come to think of it, this is my first time fighting an opponent like this.

An enemy who was himself a master, heavily armed, enhanced by medicines, and further bolstered by constant external support. He was well and truly armed, mobilized to the fullest. In the most literal sense, he was fighting not alone but with the support of many.

So this must have been what it felt like when Master faced the Rapid Iron Style...and when Fukei did as well. How far can I go with the strength I have now?

It was said that when Suiboku previously visited this place, he had already been a fully fledged Immortal. Though he had not yet reached the stage of creating techniques uniquely his own, he had been a rampaging god who had mastered countless Arts in his homeland. Even that Suiboku had been forced into a hard fight against the Rapid Iron Style—and here Sansui was, going up against its descendants. Simply lining up the facts, there was no chance of victory.

That is precisely why this has meaning.

With respect for the descendant of the warrior who had torn off his master’s arm, Sansui maintained the highest level of vigilance.

He carries many noble treasures whose purposes I can’t discern. If he has measures against Immortal Arts—against Immortals themselves—then even using Flash Step directly won’t secure a win.

The Great Tengu Cel and Suiboku stood side by side, watching from afar.

This battle was, for both sides, something that could be called a proxy war spanning two and a half millennia. It was not a conflict, but a contest—and precisely because of that, there was a heartwarming feeling that came with it. Both of them smiled as they declared the start.

“Then...begin!”

This warmth, however, belonged only to the observers. The ones actually competing were deadly serious.

“Rapid Iron Style...”

Lloyd thrust both hands forward. Without changing that posture, he spread his hands and activated Fury, manifesting the Rapid Iron Style.

“Great Solid Ring—Eightfold Defensive Barrier!”

Sansui, who had not been told the details by his master, had intended to respond without surprise no matter what technique appeared. But when he saw it, his eyes clearly widened in shock.

It was the first time he had seen it in this world. Something that had been extremely common in his original world, he was now seeing again for the first time in five hundred years... Floating around Lloyd were eight shining gears. They had no visible axis, made no discordant sounds, and rotated slowly and smoothly.

So, just as spellcraft creates walls or armor, the Rapid Iron Style creates gears and uses them for defense and offense? A massive rotating gear striking the human body would certainly suffice as an attack. And if they’re placed on all sides, they function as a defense as well. And more than that...

The problem was that his path to the opponent was cut off.

I can’t move to the other side of those gears with Flash Step.

Flash Step was essentially a form of “warp,” but it came with several restrictions. One could not move beyond the range of one’s sensory perception, nor move directly upward or downward, and—most importantly—neither enter nor exit a space completely enclosed by walls. This latter condition also applied to lattices and similar boundaries; in essence, one could not move through a place that could not be entered or exited by walking.

Therefore, it was impossible to use Flash Step to move directly to Lloyd’s side while he was protected by the surrounding gears.

Saiga or Shouzo might be able to find a way to break through them...but I don’t think I can. Still, it doesn’t seem as bad as the Drunken Fist Style. Unlike that technique, which knocks you down just by getting close, this seems purely defensive—or perhaps interceptive. I should be able to use Flash Step for evasion, and even move directly in front of the gears without issue.

This technique, too, was ultimately a human art. If so, it would not exceed the limits of humanity. By comparing it to techniques he already knew, noting their similarities and differences, Sansui searched for a way to overcome it.

I can sense intent from those gears. They probably have the ability to react on their own, but that freedom must make them hard to control. It’s the same type of technique as Tahlan’s Shadow Summoning.

Sansui lowered his sword from his middle guard stance. Still holding it in his right hand, he let his left hand hang loosely at his side, grasping nothing. It was what was commonly called a “no stance,” and he was convinced it was the optimal posture in this situation. The crouching start was the most obvious example, but any “stance” had the weakness of revealing one’s next action to their opponent, and of creating a delay if one then opted to move differently.

The “no stance,” meanwhile, looked like nothing more than standing idly, yet it could flow into any action at all. In that sense, it was far superior; however, Sansui did not use this stance very often. His master, Suiboku, had warned him he should not.

“They say true masters don’t take a stance, but you do, Master?”

“Hmm? I don’t have to if I don’t want to. But even if you prefer it, it’s better to not use the ‘no stance’ too often. If you do, the opponent will misunderstand and think you don’t take them seriously.”

He had been taught that it was discourteous, but now Sansui advanced slowly while maintaining the stance deemed improper. He believed that, for the opponent before him, it was precisely what was necessary.

“Defensive Rotational Formation, three plates.”

As Sansui calmly closed the distance, Lloyd repositioned three of the eight gears that had been circling around him, placing them directly in front of himself.

“Mirror Spin Barrage!”

Next, he began spinning the gears on the left and right simultaneously, in opposing directions. Then he slowly brought them closer to the central gear.

This is—!

Overwhelmed by a fierce sense of déjà vu, Sansui braced himself for the moment that was about to follow. And then it came. Like a pitching machine launching a ball with its rotating rollers, the left and right gears forcefully fired the central gear forward.

So fast...but I can read it.

The launched gear flew toward Sansui at a shocking speed. However, the buildup had been far too long, and the moment of release was easy to anticipate. With time to spare, Sansui moved to evade it.

But as the gear closed in on him, it suddenly flashed. Blades of light unfolded around the gear. The instant he saw that, Sansui lost his composure for the first time. He attempted a wide evasion with Flash Step, but it was too late. The glowing blades—just barely—reached him.

“So I couldn’t completely avoid it...”

The gear, still wrapped in blades, flew off into the distance, but on Sansui’s chest, where he now stood clear of its trajectory, ran a long, thin line. As a mere greeting at the moment of first contact, Sansui had been wounded.

“The fact that the void blade only grazed you...means you saw through the solid ring and waited until the last possible moment to evade.”

Seeing this, Lloyd did not rejoice at having injured an Immortal; he merely confirmed the result.

“I see. I thought it was just a gear, but it was a ground spinner.”

For Sansui, bleeding in battle—let alone being grazed by an enemy’s attack—was something he had never experienced in his long life as an Immortal. Yet he did not lower his gaze to the wound. He simply kept his eyes on Lloyd.

Lloyd’s expression gradually clouded. No—he began to look dissatisfied.

“Do you know about Divine Ginseng?”

“Yes, I do. My master can make it, but I am too inexperienced to do so myself.”

Strangely enough, Lloyd seemed displeased that the wound he had inflicted was not healing.

“Why didn’t you eat it beforehand? If you had, a wound like that would have healed already.”

Sansui understood Lloyd’s displeasure. This fight was hardly normal. One side was armed with noble treasures, physically enhanced with Divine Ginseng and the like, and supported by the Consecrated Maidens. And yet the other side carried nothing but a wooden sword, relying only on a Golden Balm to strengthen his body. By no measure could this ever be called an even match.

Don’t underestimate me. Don’t look down on me. Fight with your utmost strength—that was what Lloyd was saying. Sansui understood that, he truly did. But it was not his way.

“Words are unnecessary. I will let the result speak for itself.”

With the flesh of his chest still yet split open, Sansui stepped forward once more. There was no smile on his face. With deadly seriousness, he confronted his opponent and took grim enjoyment in a battle where neither side could afford to hold back.

“Yes... You’re right.”

Lloyd had no room to let his guard down either.

His Flash Step is too fast... Even Lord Fukei needed several seconds before activation, but this Immortal didn’t need even an instant. So this is the disciple of the rampaging god...

There were Tengu in this village who could use Flash Step as well. However, Fukei, who had visited here before, had been several levels faster than them. And Sansui’s Flash Step surpassed even Fukei’s.

But given his age, he can’t have devoted time to training much else. Unlike Lord Fukei, he won’t have limitless recovery, nor will he be able to freely manipulate heaven and earth. Flash Step—that’s what I need to watch out for.

Sansui, at the same time, was also considering as he moved back into position.

Now then, what should I do?

Ultimately, Sansui’s way of fighting was to close in and strike, and he was extremely ill-suited to opponents he could not approach. Moreover, considering that his opponent had eaten Divine Ginseng and was wearing defensive noble treasures, it would take many solid hits to land anything decisive.

A tough opponent, that is certain...

Landing even a single blow would be difficult, and closing the distance itself was hard. And yet he would have to deliver multiple effective strikes against such an enemy. As he walked calmly forward, Sansui simulated move upon move of offense and defense in his mind.

Meanwhile, Lloyd’s mind was also hard at work constructing his own strategy for winning.

Mirror Spin Barrage is the fastest technique in the Rapid Iron Style... The fact that he read it so quickly means that any other straightforward technique I use will be avoided as well.

Landing a hit was going to be just as difficult for Lloyd. He held the advantage in that one clean hit could decide the match, but the only person who had ever managed to land such a hit on Sansui was Suiboku himself.

I’ll solidify my defense, press the attack, and cut off his retreat. I won’t leave him any room to maneuver!

“Void Blade, dual blade spin!”

One gear had already been fired, which left seven remaining. Lloyd left the five defensive gears as they were and converted the two rotating ones into offensive use, blades of light unfolding from them as he sent them darting erratically around the field.

“Here I come!”

Maintaining that formation, Lloyd burst into a full sprint. He closed the distance in one rush toward the calmly advancing Sansui.

“Hahhhh!”

He deftly manipulated the two outer gears, using them aggressively to strike. There was no need for Sansui to speculate how much cutting power they possessed; what mattered was the trajectory of the attacks. Because they were launched with clear intent, it was possible to see and read them.

“Quicken Self.”

He increased his speed and slipped past the two attacking gears, forcing his way into the gap between them and the ring of five defensive gears. However—

“Quicken Belt.”

The moment Lloyd confirmed that Sansui had used Quicken Self, he activated Quicken Belt as well.

Now our perceived speeds are even... He won’t catch me by surprise!

Just as Lloyd thought that would suffice, Sansui accelerated even further.

“Ki Wave: Quivering Feet.”

On top of Quicken Self, he layered the speed of force release. By powerfully kicking off the ground, he violently propelled his own body forward. The high-difficulty maneuver, one that allowed for little complex motion, was executed by Sansui with complete composure—right within his opponent’s guard.

Sansui vanished from Lloyd’s field of vision. At the same time, a series of dull, rapid sounds echoed, and vibrations traveled up through the ground. It was obvious that Sansui was doing something outside Lloyd’s sight.

Stay calm... As long as I maintain the solid ring I’ve assigned to defense, I won’t take a hit.

If Lloyd had been inexperienced, losing sight of Sansui would have shaken him. He might even have repositioned the defensive gears deployed around him. But Lloyd remained calm. Keeping his defenses where they were, he adjusted his stance and surveyed his surroundings.

Sansui was there, within his sight. He was still close by.

Foolish—he’s still lingering between the offensive and defensive rings! No matter how much the gears block my vision, a man can’t simply hide there!

He searched for me without panicking—impressive composure, Sansui thought. But...the instant he finds me, his attention will inevitably narrow!

Lloyd moved to shift the gears to block off Sansui’s escape route. If he did that, it would be checkmate, allowing him to end the match with a controlled stop just short of a decisive blow.

At that moment, something struck Lloyd on the head.

Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that something dropped onto him.

“Eh?!”

Naturally, it was an attack brought about by Sansui’s technique.

“World Manipulation: Mountain Throwing.”

It was a technique that lightened an object once touched, causing it to float, and then made it heavy again at the caster’s will. When Sansui had moved with Quivering Feet, he’d kicked up the soil beneath his feet and left it suspended in midair. The instant Lloyd caught sight of Sansui, he caused it to fall directly onto Lloyd’s head.

The amount of earth was no more than could be scooped up with both hands, and the weight was nothing extraordinary. Even so, the surprise strike to the head disrupted Lloyd’s delicate control of the gears. Their speed dulled, their rotation slowed, and gaps opened throughout their formation.

This is bad!

In the momentary darkness of his obscured vision, Lloyd chose the best possible action. Abandoning precise control, he deployed void blades from the gears around himself, using them to forcibly fill the gaps that had opened in the formation. Defense came first. He intended to weather the time until his formation recovered by turtling up.

I’ll endure this!

Just as I thought he would, Sansui thought.

At that instant, he swung his wooden sword.

“Ki Blade: Prayer Beads.”

It was an attributeless spell that bound anything it touched. Sansui used it to pick up a small stone from the ground with his wooden sword as it passed, and as he completed the swing, he released the technique and fired the stone off. Through the disordered gears and the void blades extending from them—gaps no human body could pass—it threaded through and struck the top of Lloyd’s foot.

“Wha—?”

Still reeling from the rain of dirt over his head, Lloyd looked down at his foot, which had suffered nothing more than a small injury.

Exactly as Sansui intended, Lloyd erased Sansui from his own field of vision.

“Feather Step.”

Sansui did not miss the opening. In an instant, he leaped into the air, lightening his own body and dropping inside the cage of gears. Had Lloyd been watching Sansui, he could have intercepted him easily. But Lloyd, having glanced down even for a moment, could not.

“Leaden Step.”

Increasing his own weight, Sansui brought his wooden sword down in a crushing blow. As repayment for the blood Sansui had shed, he delivered a merciless strike.

It robbed Lloyd of consciousness—if only for an instant.

The Rapid Iron Style’s defense is indeed formidable, but it is a defense founded on skill, one that only functions when the practitioner is in perfect condition. Disrupting it is not difficult. Even so, the real fight begins now.

He had found a way to deal with the Rapid Iron Style, and a way to deal with Lloyd. But the battle was far from decided. Above all else, most of the noble treasures created by Cel had barely come into play. It was unthinkable that an Immortal who had lived through endless ages would fail to anticipate the possibility of an opponent breaking into close range.

“Harden Self.”

Having landed a decisive blow and briefly taken away Lloyd’s consciousness, Sansui chose defense rather than pressing the attack.

I don’t know what’s coming, but I’ll take it head-on for now!

No sooner had Sansui prepared himself for the unknown than one of the noble treasures Lloyd was wearing recognized the danger and activated. It unleashed an attack outward, indiscriminately striking everything in the immediate radius.

“Ah—?!”

Maintaining Harden Self as it threatened to break apart, Sansui clutched his ears. The sound that erupted was so deafening that it went beyond pain, numbing Sansui’s entire body through the vibrations in the air. Both Lloyd and Sansui were struck by the devastating sound wave.

“Guh!”

“Kh—!”

A noble treasure—the Clamor Bell.

It was, quite simply, a device that emitted an extremely loud noise, hardly something one could call sophisticated. However, thanks to the Great Tengu’s ingenuity, it had been modified to activate automatically if the wearer lost consciousness. It served both as a means of rousing the wearer and as a hindrance to nearby enemies. One should not underestimate mere sound—heard at close range, it could render one’s ears useless for a time.

Of course, the user was also caught in the blast, making it nothing more than a desperate measure—yet even as such, it was undoubtedly effective against Sansui. A noble treasure that activated entirely independent of its user’s will could neither be anticipated nor prevented.

The Harden Self Sansui had activated only “just in case” was not enough to endure it, and his sense of balance and other delicate faculties were completely thrown off.

“Guh...”

Lloyd, too, suffered from the roaring blast, but despite this he managed to rally a counterattack. He created a solid gear small enough to fit in his palm and fired a single shot. There was no leeway to deploy void blades; he simply launched it as it was. Even so, it would have dealt a severe wound to Sansui—if it hit.

“Ahh...”

It did not.

That was only to be expected. A large gear might have had a chance of hitting, but whether a palm-sized object would strike an enemy, even at close range, was anyone’s guess. Still, Lloyd had attacked because he was, quite literally, desperate.

“Tch!”

It hadn’t missed because of skill—only because of luck.

Staggering, Sansui dropped to the ground, braced himself with his left hand and both feet, and then released a burst of force to push himself away. It was not the advanced technique of Quivering Feet. Combined with Feather Step, it was simply an evasive leap upward.

Awkwardly, inelegantly, he rose into the air. As he moved away from the source of the sound, the pain in his ears gradually lessened. Even so, the echo still rang in his head, and his sense of balance had yet to return.

No good—I can’t use Flash Step. My ability to grasp my surroundings has been completely scrambled.

Floating upward, Sansui waited as best he could for his faculties to recover. It was a truly desperate maneuver, but his opponent would likewise find precise attacks difficult after the Clamor Bell, so it bought him some time. Unsightly as the emergency evasion had been, Sansui had no regrets about choosing the best possible option.

“Well now... This is fun.”

Sansui was laughing. The pain had not faded, yet he laughed all the same, clearly enjoying himself.

“Now then, how should I win? I’ve put some distance between us for the moment...but for now, I’ll have to weather his attacks.”

Lightened, Sansui continued to float ever higher. When he reached a certain height, however, he slowly came to a stop. Needless to say, it was not something he had intended.

“Huh? Damn it!”

In this hidden realm, the walls were “down” and the center was “up.” Because of that, once one rose past a certain altitude, attraction from all directions balanced out, leaving one suspended in equilibrium. Far below, the training grounds were visible, but by the principles of Flash Step, he could not return there. Flash Step only allowed movement along the horizontal axis; it could not be used vertically.

In this place—which counted as “up” from anywhere in the land—Flash Step was unusable.

“In that case, I’ll just watch and deal with any attacks as I descend.”

With both now having suffered pain, the fight had effectively reset. Lloyd had taken more damage, but unlike Sansui, he had eaten the Divine Ginseng. He would recover sooner.

“How will you come at me now, I wonder?”

With no reason to keep his eyes on Sansui after he withdrew into the sky, Lloyd dropped to one knee on the ground. He stopped the Clamor Bell and struggled to steady himself.

“This is rough...”

His body hurt, but his heart hurt even more. By this point, the difference between Sansui and Lloyd had already been decided. In terms of mental warfare and technical skill alike, the gap was unmistakable. It was painful to accept, given the pride he had held, but he had no choice but to acknowledge it. That an ordinary human would be inferior to an Immortal swordsman was only natural.

“But it’s not over yet.”

Precisely because it was natural, his spirit did not break. If he were to admit defeat to himself here, then there would be no meaning in fighting at all. He had to marshal everything he had and face this Immortal head-on.

“Go—Eightfold Orbs!”

Lloyd activated a noble treasure for long-range combat that had been concealed in his clothing: eight extremely small spheres—each smaller than an eyeball—strung together on a single cord. He released them from their cord, and the eight spheres scattered and began moving freely in all directions, racing toward the distant sky.

A noble treasure: the Eightfold Orbs.

It was an auto-tracking treasure designed for long-range attacks. One of its strengths was that it could be used even when Lloyd was in an unstable condition, as he was now. Its raw power was not particularly great, but it was more than sufficient for this situation. Especially against Sansui, whose senses were still numbed by the Clamor Bell, it would be exceedingly effective. Above all else, he needed to buy time—impeding his opponent’s recovery while securing time for his own.

“No matter what it takes, I’m going to win!”

Lloyd’s strategy was sound. The instant Sansui spotted the Eightfold Orbs racing toward him, he visibly panicked.

“They’re small and fast... This is going to be trouble!”

He activated Leaden Step, needing first and foremost to return to the ground. As a result, Sansui fell sideways while accelerating, and the eight spheres chased relentlessly after him.

“An auto-tracking long-range weapon... As expected of the greatest noble treasure craftsman in the world!”

Sansui said this aloud as he fell, shuddering at the reality of it. He had seen autonomous weapons before, but this was the first time in this world he had encountered one that attacked without any direction from the wielder at all. Moving sharply and erratically, the eight spheres closed in on him. That movement carried two meanings: One was that their paths were unreadable, making them difficult to intercept; the other was that, because they were not taking the most direct path, he still had time before they reached him.

“I can deal with them once I’m back in form. The problem is until then.”

It would take a little longer before he could use Flash Step again. Until that point, he would have to find a way to avoid the attack without it.

“I need to land—now!”

This was not a situation he could handle in midair. Sansui descended to the ground at near-collision speed. Keeping all eight erratically moving spheres within his field of vision, he reinforced his wooden sword with ki.

“Even if it’s ugly, I’ll buy time!”

Instead of Harden Self to toughen his body, he used Quicken Self; then, combining it with Quivering Feet, he retreated backward at full speed.

“No matter how irregular their paths are, their speed has limits. If I retreat at full speed, they can only chase me from one direction.”

The worst-case scenario was being surrounded. If that happened, in his current condition he would certainly take hits. Depending on where he was struck, he could lose consciousness outright—and that would be the end of the match.

“Even so...!”

Simply retreating at full speed was never going to be enough to escape. The eight erratic spheres were clearly closing the distance. Quicken Self was inherently inefficient, something that could not be maintained for long. It was only a matter of time before they caught up.

“Guess I’ll have to brace for two or three hits!”

Still facing the Eightfold Orbs as they swarmed him, Sansui stopped and took a stance to meet them head-on.

“They’re fast, but I can still track them!”

The small spheres lunged at him, changing speed and direction in an instant. He picked one of them as his target and charged forward with his whole body, striking it with his wooden sword. No matter how much they surrounded him, it was ultimately an encirclement with only a single layer of depth. By charging in one direction, he could break through.

“Nggh!”

They were likely based on the same principle as Mountain Throw. Contrary to their light appearance, the spheres were so heavy that he could not easily bat them aside with his wooden sword. The unexpected resistance almost made Sansui falter, and at that moment the spheres rushed in from other directions as well.

“It hurts...but I can handle the pain!”

He endured the attacks with the resolve to protect his head at all costs. But then, an unwelcome sound reached Sansui’s ears. The gears of the Rapid Iron Style were approaching.

“They’re coming already... He’s recovered that fast?”

While Sansui was occupied by the Eightfold Orbs, Lloyd had already regained his condition. Pressing the advantage, he now came to continue the attack in person.

“I won’t let you escape!”

Riding atop a gear and flying in from above, Lloyd aimed to decide the battle right here. But it was already too late.

“I’m done running.”

Sansui, having recovered from the sonic attack at the last possible moment, shifted from defense to resolution.

“Ki Blade: Cross Touch.”

He struck one of the erratically moving spheres. While he was dealing with one, the others surged toward him. If it had ended there, the change would have meant nothing; however—

“Flash Step Art: Weaver Girl.”

He repositioned the orb he had struck into the path of another high-speed orb using Flash Step. Inevitably, the two collided, shattered, and veered off course. With the number reduced to six, Sansui—who had been tracking all of them continuously by their presence—repeated the maneuver three more times without difficulty.

He destroyed all of the Eightfold Orbs, bringing their threat to an end.

Watching this, Lloyd was struck with astonishment—but even so, he launched a long-range attack with his gears.

He’s using Flash Step to smash the Eightfold Orbs into each other?! By tracking the movement of all eight spheres?! Even just colliding them would be difficult, and he timed every single hit at their maximum speed!

Lloyd understood anew that he must never allow Sansui to Flash Step into his immediate vicinity. Remaining suspended in the air, he looked down at Sansui and made sure not to land.

“You can’t use Flash Step upward... I’ll press the attack like this!”

With his safety assured, Lloyd abandoned defense and sent four gears rushing toward Sansui.

“Go, Eightfold Orbs!”

In tandem, he released a second set of Eightfold Orbs. The eight spheres advanced erratically, avoiding interference with the large gears as they closed in. Four large manifestations of killing intent, eight smaller forms of harassment—together forming an all-directional assault.

Against that...

“Ki Blade: Cross Touch.”

Sansui responded in exactly the same way as before.

He struck the first incoming sphere, repositioned it with Flash Step, and this time had it severed by the blades of the gears. He evaded all twelve attacks simultaneously—each differing wildly in speed, size, and trajectory—while recognizing and responding to them all at once.

The moment Lloyd grasped that fact, he acted without hesitation.

“Resound, Clamor Bell!”

The sonic weapon that had already proven effective was thrown straight down and activated. With seven of the Eightfold Orbs still remaining, he aimed to dull his opponent’s movements again.

“Cowherd.”

What Sansui did in response to the attack was simple. He drew the falling object toward himself and caught it in his left hand. Then: “Ki Wave.”

No matter how exceptional the noble treasure was, it was still merely an extension of Immortal Arts and attributeless magic. As such, the principle by which it produced sound was easy enough to understand. The vibrations struck his hand directly, but he neutralized and mitigated them through force release.

In addition, he was holding the wooden sword in his right hand, so even if his other hand were temporarily disabled, it posed no problem.

And then—

“Flash Step.”

He held it up to the approaching blades of the gears and let them cut it apart. After confirming its destruction, he immediately withdrew with Flash Step.

Having slightly injured his left hand yet evaded with breathtaking finesse, Sansui looked up at Lloyd with a serious expression. It was as if to say, have you exhausted all your tricks already?

Immortals, and Tengu as well, could gather information about their surroundings through meditation and concentration. So long as they were not actively fighting, observing in this way was by no means difficult. Similarly, Consecrated Maidens could share senses with those to whom they were “connected.” This went beyond vision alone, and if the target was limited, they could perceive things with great precision. At present, every practitioner of the consecrated path in the village was connected to Lloyd.

Those Tengu and Consecrated Maidens were all bewildered.

They had witnessed Sansui’s transcendent techniques. Seeing skills that surpassed human understanding, they had gone pale. The practitioners of the Rapid Iron Style had no means of grasping the battle’s true state, yet just by looking at the Tengu and the Consecrated Maidens, they understood that the situation was dire.

“Um—what’s going on out there?!”

“Great Tengu?!”

“They’re still fighting, right?!”

“Damn it! We’re going after them!”

With the two fighters having left the arena, none of them could see what was happening anymore. The practitioners of the Rapid Iron Style chased after their representative. Meanwhile, the Consecrated Maidens and Tengu all turned their gaze to Suiboku. They were looking at the strongest man in the world—the one who had forged the Sansui who was now fighting.

“Hey, Suiboku... How old is your disciple, again?”

“He came to me about five hundred years ago.”

“You really are something else... Even as a teacher.”

The Great Tengu had raised many disciples. In a broad sense, every long-lived being in this world could be called his student. Precisely because of that, he could say this: To raise a disciple lacking in natural talent to this level in a mere five hundred years was something no one else could do. It proved that Suiboku was a complete Immortal—and that he had reached the very pinnacle as a teacher.

“You flatter me.”

Even so, this was not what impressed Suiboku most. He was moved by something else. His disciple had not lost his composure at the sight of blood. He did not fear taking hits, and without hesitation he chose the best possible action. That alone made Suiboku happy. Once again, he could see that his disciple had grown a great deal from his former self.

Certainly, defeating an opponent without taking a single hit was an ideal worth striving for. But one must not fear being struck. Fear of injury disrupts technique and stiffens the body. At the same time, one must not dwell on being struck either. Even if blood is shed, it should not linger in the heart.

What matters is fighting—and winning.

If you live, blood will flow. If you fight, you will be injured. That is only natural. Recalling how he himself had once failed to understand even that, Suiboku found himself deeply moved by how completely his disciple had matured.

His disciple had truly become the ideal swordsman.

“As expected of someone acknowledged by you,” the Great Tengu said.

“Yes. He truly is a devoted disciple.”

The seasoned Tengu, who had known Suiboku as he’d been in his youth, two thousand five hundred years ago, nodded in agreement. Suiboku, who had once quite literally reached the seat of a god, had still continued to seek strength. That man—who more purely than anyone else had desired to become strong—saw in Sansui the very thing he himself had truly been aiming for.

It meant that, as an Immortal, Suiboku had no lingering attachment to this lifetime.

“Suiboku.”

“Yes?”

“He’s certainly a disciple to be proud of. But isn’t there still more you’d like to teach him?”

“That is...of course. However...”

“There’s no end to it. That’s what you’re going to say, no?”

Cel spoke purely out of regret. He lamented that a man who had finally overcome his doubts, and who had raised such an Immortal, was now seeking death. It was far too wasteful.

“Suiboku, I hear that long ago you said you wanted to cut down the moon.”

“Y-Yes.”

“You are the moon.”

Everyone knows the moon is there. Look up at the heavens, and it is always present. That was what Suiboku was, Cel was telling him.

“You are the strongest man in this world—the summit to be aimed for, the moon that is sought even if it can never be reached.”

“That status has already been passed on.”

What the Great Tengu Cel did not know was that Sansui, still young among Immortals, had already been guiding many ordinary people. As the nation’s strongest swordsman, he had already sent countless disciples into the world. As a swordsman, a warrior, a soldier, and a martial artist, he was respected as a standard of conduct.

“The things I truly need to pass on, I’ve already done,” said Suiboku.

“That alone is not enough. It’s true that your disciple has reached the State of No Doubt with your Ultimate Techniques, but even so, just knowing the framework is insufficient.”

“He will discover those things for himself. I trust him to do so.”

“Well...I’ll leave judgment of that to Kacho,” Cel said.

The two deliberately ended the conversation there and refocused on the battle happening right now.

“Needless to say, the fight isn’t over yet.”

“Yes. I’ll observe his skill,” Suiboku replied.

From above, Lloyd had reduced the number of gears he was using as a platform to just one, vanishing the others.

Strong, but neither invincible nor unbeatable. I have a chance to win.

Lloyd had regained the composure to formulate a strategy, and he paused briefly to do so. Although Lloyd’s supply of Eightfold Orbs had run out, Sansui already bore accumulated injuries. Lloyd, too, was not unharmed, but Sansui’s wounds were more severe. That fact kept Lloyd calm.

Indeed, his Flash Step is at an unbelievable level, but it still doesn’t break the laws of principle. Maintaining this altitude should be fine for now.

To remain calm, he reaffirmed that he was currently in a safe position. Only then did he begin considering how to press the attack.

Sansui’s responses are astonishingly fast. It’s pointless to use a technique or tool I’ve already shown him—even with slight variations, he’ll counter them easily.

The ability to respond perfectly to techniques they’d witnessed only once—that was the strength of Sansui and Suiboku. But they still had to have seen it. Anything completely new would be impossible to counter perfectly.

His precision is enough to pierce even the smallest opening, but still... It’s only within the range of his own understanding and imagination. With the attack earlier, he was still struck.

Sansui had a good sense of what Lloyd was thinking. Well, he’s not wrong. But if he meticulously plans every move, it’ll make it even easier to anticipate.

Sansui himself needed to pause for a moment. Using successive Quicken Self Techniques had depleted his Immortal energy, and he needed to regulate his breathing and perform Ki Gathering to recover even slightly. His left hand especially had been strained while stopping the Clamor Bell. It needed at least a short rest.

There’s no doubt he still has more tricks up his sleeve. Exactly how many and what they are, I have no idea...but I can take a guess.

The Eightfold Orbs had been unusually small, as had been the Clamor Bell. The reason for that was portability; it meant he could equip multiple noble treasures at once. So far, all of them that Lloyd had demonstrated—Quicken Belt, the Eightfold Orbs, and the Clamor Bell—had been part of or inside his clothing.

Among the noble treasures he hasn’t revealed, there’s undoubtedly something that can surpass Quicken Self. But that’s precisely why he won’t use it immediately. If he could, there wouldn’t be a stalemate...

The supreme techniques of the Suiboku School of Immortal Arts were always a step ahead of the opponent—just a hair’s breadth, a fraction too late, a close call, a critical instant. In other words, it was about taking a single, almost negligible point and extending it to infinity. Sansui had been entrusted with this principle by Suiboku.

He’s not an opponent I can defeat easily, but I have no intention of losing easily either.

Without a hint of frustration, Sansui gripped his wooden sword in his right hand. The initiative still belonged entirely to Lloyd, hovering above. The moment Lloyd made his move would mark the beginning of the final clash.

No... More than that. I have to win.

Sansui, firmly, made this resolution.

Part 16 — The Final Clash

As he awaited the last exchange, Sansui understood why his master had entrusted him with new techniques.

My master gave me Perpetual and Scattered Land because they are his own unique techniques, ones that defy conventional principles. Even if the Great Tengu knew every possible technique and countermeasure in history, he could not possibly foresee these two.

Sansui had mentally prepared as much as possible for this final encounter. He knew that without such preparation, victory would be impossible.

But I haven’t mastered these two techniques yet. I must construct my strategy with that in mind.

Being able to use a technique and being able to fully control it were two entirely different matters. Perpetual and Scattered Land were difficult even compared to other Flash Step techniques, and Sansui’s training time with them had been far too short. He needed to account for significant delays both before and after activation.

Lloyd’s strength forced Sansui to rely on these techniques despite their risks.

Well then... It’s time.

Naturally, both Sansui and Lloyd fought intending to defeat a formidable opponent. If this were not a proper duel, the optimal solutions would already be clear: Lloyd would focus entirely on all-around defense, and Sansui would aim for a drawn-out battle of endurance. But this was not that kind of fight. Both parties understood that, and that understanding allowed the reading of each other’s movements to matter.

Reinforcements are approaching... Before that, I need to finish this.

Lloyd’s biggest concern was Sansui closing in on him, yet if Sansui didn’t come closer, his own offensive would be incomplete. He had to lure Sansui while maintaining the advantage.

The aura has changed... Now, the final exchange begins!

“Lightning Triad!”

Lloyd deliberately used the Rapid Iron Style to launch a long-ranged attack instead of his noble treasures. From atop his rotating gear, he sent down three gears adorned with void blades, swinging them erratically as they spiraled toward Sansui.

“Flash Step!”

Sansui evaded using Flash Step, moving not just minimally but with a wide displacement, vanishing from Lloyd’s sight in an instant. Even Lloyd in the sky could not immediately spot him. Yet Lloyd already knew where Sansui had hidden. He had predicted it even before launching the attack.

“Crawl along the ground!”

He adjusted the trajectories of the falling gears, sending them precisely where they needed to go, without hesitation. Sansui had needed to vanish from the aerial opponent’s view, and the fastest way to conceal oneself from an elevated enemy was to hide within a forest. Lloyd directed his gears toward the nearest coniferous trees from Sansui’s previous position, the blades slicing through the foliage.

Yet Sansui, concealed where Lloyd had predicted, remained calm.

He even anticipated I’d escape here.

Sansui grasped one of the cut trees, lightened it, and hurled it toward Lloyd. The straight, dense tree, still thick with branches even after being cut, traced a perfect arc toward Lloyd.

So that’s how he counters!

Lloyd launched the remaining four gears from his platform, cutting through the incoming tree with precision. Of course, Sansui was nowhere among the falling branches. To be thorough, Lloyd glanced behind him. There, silently ascending, was Sansui.

He could have been hiding there...but no, it’s a decoy! After throwing that tree, he used Flash Step to exit the forest, moved to the opposite side, and ascended with Feather Step! Is he planning to rise to the same altitude as me?!

Lloyd slowly raised the gear he was floating on to buy time while simultaneously unleashing something from near his own head. Far above, it detonated, scattering countless black threads.

Noble Treasure: Entangling Bride.

Constructed from women’s hair, these entangling ranged noble treasures wrapped around anything they touched. They could immobilize a target and even prevent the use of Flash Step.

The Entangling Bride will ensnare both Sansui and myself if we enter its range. Even if he uses Cowherd to pull me in with Flash Step, he’ll be entangled before he can act. Retreat is an option, but in a battle where the honor of our masters is at stake, he won’t.

The black threads from above had not yet reached either Sansui or Lloyd. There was still a window to fight, though Lloyd having only one remaining gear left him clearly vulnerable. This was an obvious lure, leaving Sansui no room to escape.

Sansui now faced a stark choice. Try to defeat Lloyd before the threads ensnared him—This is a restraint noble treasure, one that spreads like a net, like smoke. The most troublesome kind... Once it binds, Lloyd could strike with Rapid Iron Style, and it would be over for me—or retreat, and effectively reset the battle once more.

Retreating is not an option. I’ll push through.

“Ki Blade!”

As he ascended, Sansui swung his wooden sword in a wide angle from his right shoulder to his left hip. His numb left hand was held open in front of him. This was not an unarmed posture; the motion was deliberate, signaling his intent even as he rose. Under the descending black threads, the two faced each other once again.

And thus, the genuine final exchange began.

As expected.

As I thought.

The two thought in tandem.

Now, I will surpass Sansui!

Now, I will outmaneuver Lloyd!

Both had prepared trump cards beyond the other’s expectation, each striving to surpass the opponent.

The first to act was Sansui. Defying all reason for Lloyd, who knew only conventional Flash Step, Sansui began swinging his wooden sword without moving through space first.

Impossible... Flash Step requires moving, then attacking! Swinging now is meaningless! Even if he intends to hit with a technique, he could have used his left hand without the sword!

Lloyd’s mind could not compute how he ought to respond. Against actions that violated conventional principles, he was slow to react.

Could he be planning, like before, to launch something attached to the sword with Prayer Beads?! That’s much slower compared to Flash Step... By the time it reaches me, won’t the Entangling Bride have already covered everything?!

Lloyd’s mind was racing, recalling everything that had happened in the battle thus far, desperate for any hint of what Sansui’s intention was.

No—just defend!

Not relying on Rapid Iron Style, Lloyd braced using his own noble treasures and body. He raised both arms high. His chaotic thoughts could come to no conclusion but this: Use Harden Body and ready for impact.

“Suiboku-Style Immortal Arts Flash Step: Perpetual!”

And this was precisely what Sansui wanted. By deliberately confusing him with the obvious, predictable Flash Step, Sansui drew out Lloyd’s full defensive response.

“Ki Wave: Whale Breaker!”

Sansui advanced directly in front of Lloyd and unleashed his full-power technique, Whale Breaker.

“Gwah—?!”

The wooden sword struck Lloyd solidly, sending violent vibrations throughout his body. Yet, something unexpected happened for Sansui.

What...?! What is this resistance?! I’m using Whale Breaker...yet he can still move?!

Lloyd wore long sleeves—naturally imbued as noble treasures. Beneath the sleeves, he had bracers—also noble treasures. However, it was another noble treasure that mitigated Whale Breaker. At his waist was Kobito: a small wooden figurine. Its principle mirrored Sansui’s Ultimate Technique: Contemplative Flow.

Feather Step dispersed one’s weight into the surrounding area. Suiboku applied this principle to distribute and neutralize kinetic and spiritual energy attacks, and Cel had incorporated this into the noble treasure, allowing it to disperse energy from attacks on the wearer for a brief moment.

Even so, Whale Breaker’s full force could not be entirely nullified. Lloyd still took damage. Yet, unlike the surprise attack earlier, Lloyd retained his wits and could counterattack.

Meanwhile, Sansui’s mind noted that the Entangling Bride threads had already brushed his head—they would fully entangle his body in seconds.

If I can just withstand this a few more moments... Lloyd thought. No! Sansui isn’t an opponent I can just wait to defeat!

Recognizing he still had a chance, Lloyd acted decisively to block all possible retreats. He generated four gears around himself, encircling both him and Sansui.

There’s no reason to play weak anymore. I’ll block all escape routes here!

The gears already emitted void blades; escape would require moving upward—but above, the Entangling Bride awaited. Lloyd still had three fully controllable gears remaining.

Sansui, despite landing his attack, had been completely caught off guard. He had expected Whale Breaker to immobilize Lloyd, so Lloyd’s ability to move was truly surprising. Yet, this was exactly where Sansui’s seamless combat style shone.

This resistance... There’s a special defensive method at work. That means...I can attack at full force without worry!

Feeling the unexpected resistance, Sansui released his grip on his sword and further closed the distance.

Lloyd’s movement is slow—so the technique isn’t fully nullified!

With his fully functional right hand, Sansui slipped past Lloyd’s arm and grasped his head.

“Ki Wave!”

He struck directly at the head while obscuring Lloyd’s vision. Every action flowed seamlessly—think, sense, act—without hesitation. This was the essence of composure in the face of uncertainty.

By obstructing his vision and striking the head, Lloyd will instinctively try to attack my right hand!

Yet, Lloyd’s reaction was faster than Sansui anticipated.

“Palm Wheel!”

Gears formed in both hands, striking Sansui’s right forearm. They cut deep into the relatively fragile arm, and an instant later, the void blades activated, severing it completely.

Got him!

Lloyd was certain of victory. Without consuming Divine Ginseng, Sansui losing a hand would drastically reduce his combat capability. Even if he could fight, there would not be enough time to overcome Lloyd before the Entangling Bride fully ensnared him.

Wrong!

Lloyd had moved faster than Sansui expected, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Sansui hadn’t just grabbed Lloyd’s head with his right hand—his numb left hand maintained contact with Lloyd’s abdomen as well.

You made a mistake! You should have cut the left hand, not the right!

Sansui’s technique required a brief preparatory movement. Because he had to maintain contact with the opponent for a few moments, he needed to distract Lloyd’s attention. He lost his right hand—but victory was his. Yes, it was Lloyd who was trapped.

“Suiboku Immortal Style Flash Step Art: Scattered Land!”

In an instant, Lloyd’s perception inverted. He had seen the severed right arm and the blood spilling from the wound...yet he lost track of Sansui. Worse, he lost all sense of his own position. Upside down, his head touched the very gears he had deployed as a foothold. Before he could even comprehend this abnormality, Sansui’s attack struck.

“Ki Wave: Destroying Fist!”

Sansui stomped on Lloyd’s jaw while channeling all his energy through the soles of his feet. Caught between the gears and Sansui’s foot, Lloyd’s jaw shattered, his head shaken violently.

It was over. Lloyd did not even cry out; he was completely unconscious. The gear that had been supporting him vanished, and his body began to fall.

“A formidable opponent, indeed.”

Sansui used his remaining hand to grasp Lloyd’s leg. That was the limit of his strength. His right hand, severed, fell away with the wooden sword. Watching it descend, Sansui himself slowly lowered his altitude, gently placing Lloyd on the ground. Then he collapsed.

The effects of the Golden Balm that had enhanced his body faded, and he returned to his childlike form. He felt exhaustion and pain—not pleasant by any means—pressing on the spot where his right hand had been.

“Truly...strong...”

Rather than lamenting his own inadequacy, Sansui acknowledged the strength of his opponent. Without sacrificing his hand, he could not have won.

Even if Scattered Land had been slow, to cut my arm so cleanly...

Lloyd had been a formidable opponent. His tactics were impeccable, and his use of noble treasures precise. Without such skill, Sansui could never have been driven to the edge.

“Now then.”

Though bleeding heavily, he could still sense the presence of others nearby. Fully aware of his condition, he waited for reinforcements to arrive.

“L-Lloyd!”

“Did he lose?!”

“No, it’s a draw, right?!”

“Call the Tengu immediately!”

“He’s completely out... What a horrible sight...”

Lloyd’s allies from the Rapid Iron Style arrived at the scene. Seeing that, Sansui slowly stood up. He had won. Lloyd had reinforcements—it was a fact—but there was still more to do.

“Master...”

A victor should walk on their own two feet. Holding his severed right arm to staunch the bleeding, Sansui moved forward, ghostlike and drained of vitality.

“It is over.”

“Yes. The fight is decided.”

The Great Tengu Cel and Suiboku, who had experienced the battle of Lloyd and Sansui as a proxy war long overdue between themselves, spoke at the finish. The fight had carried the expectations of both sides—and it had not betrayed them. Both of their disciples had fought with everything they had and the results were in.

“Even so, I’m impressed. As expected of the Great Tengu Cel—being able to integrate a defense that applies Feather Step into a noble treasure.”

“And you?” Cel replied.

“Yes. I can do it as well.”

Suiboku, seated beside Cel, activated a technique he had mastered. It was the ultimate defense—one that diffused and nullified all forms of Immortal Arts and physical attacks alike. Sensing it, Cel was left speechless.

“Don’t do that with your bare body. And to think it’s even more effective than my noble treasure.”

“I’ve put in the training,” Suiboku said calmly.

“Indeed. We’ve certainly come a long way.”

For the first time in two thousand five hundred years, a Tengu and an Immortal had met once more. Both had reached great heights—and now found themselves amazed by it. With no rivals to spur them on, it was remarkable how far they had honed themselves.

“You look quite pleased,” Cel noted.

“I am,” Suiboku responded. “I was able to confirm just how much my disciple has grown—how complete he is.”

The techniques he had taught Sansui only recently—his student had wielded them flawlessly, despite them having been newly acquired. A disciple who had remained unscathed until today. A disciple he had carefully nurtured for five hundred years. A disciple who had remained the strongest against all but himself.

Indeed, this proved that his disciple had perfectly reached the realm of unity between sword and Immortal that Suiboku himself had attained. It was proof that Suiboku had successfully raised him.

“Truly...a devoted disciple.”

“Hmph. Mine too,” Cel replied.

The Great Tengu was satisfied as well.

The opponent had been an Immortal personally endorsed by the strongest man in the world, yet Lloyd had fought him to the very end—even inflicting wounds that could have proven fatal. Just as he had two thousand five hundred years ago, Cel had once again borne witness to the strength of humanity.

“That was a good match, Suiboku.”

“Yes... It was a fine battle.”

Suiboku’s eyes grew moist despite himself. There was nothing left to fear—standing before him was the embodiment of his ideals.

“Master...”

Sansui approached, clutching his wounds. Blood dripped as he walked, his face pale from the loss of it. Yet his expression was filled with relief. Seeing his master’s joy made him happy.

“I won.”

“Mm... You’ve grown strong, Sansui.”

Part 17 — Injury

Thus, Sansui emerged victorious from his battle with Locomo Lloyd. However, having suffered the grave injury of losing his right hand, he was promptly taken for treatment.

Laid upon a bed in a small hut near the central mountain, Sansui first underwent the stitching of his wound. The one performing the procedure was a young female Tengu—not “young” merely in appearance, but likely close to Sansui in age.

“So we won’t be using Divine Ginseng?” she confirmed.

“That’s right. I understand they’re part of your precious reserves.”

“That is appreciated. They’re not really something to be used casually, especially not for the aftermath of celebratory displays.”

For ordinary humans, Divine Ginseng was an exceedingly rare and valuable treasure, which was why so many sought it. But even for Immortals and Tengu, it was not something to be used lightly.

The reason Suiboku had been able to gift such a large quantity to the Arcana Kingdom was because he had drawn upon Immortal energy he had stored within the forest for fifteen hundred years. In other words, without such accumulated Immortal energy, mass production was impossible. They were ordinarily made regularly but only in small amounts.

“Honestly...what a reckless thing to do.”

The Tengu stitching the wound looked exasperated by its severity. Had it been an accident, that would be one thing—but this injury had been sustained in a friendly exchange match, which made it all the more absurd. A warrior might view it as acceptable, but to someone involved in medicine, it was nothing short of outrageous.

“By the way, I never introduced myself. I’m Tengu Fusabis. My studies focus on healing, particularly the Medicinal Arts.”

“Th-Thank you... I’ve trained mainly in swordsmanship, along with the Arts of Flash Step and Inner Body Techniques.”

Unlike his master or himself—with their black hair and black eyes, the so-called ‘Eastern’ look—this Tengu had neither that nor the dark complexion of someone from Magyan. Instead, she had vividly colored hair and eyes, more typical of those living near the Arcana Kingdom. Dressed in mountain ascetic garb, she looked like a “Tengu” in two different senses—at least from a Japanese perspective.

“I’ve heard you’re five hundred years old, but you’re already close to returning to nature. As expected of the world’s strongest all-round Immortal, acknowledged by the Great Tengu—your training is truly top-tier.”

“Y-You flatter me...”

“You’re far too proper—I mean to say you underestimate yourself. To a worldly Tengu like me, it’s painful to watch. Take better care of yourself.”

A girl who felt not much different from himself spoke to him as an equal, despite the fact that he himself had lived for five hundred years. The experience felt strangely refreshing.

After all, until now, everyone around him had either been over a thousand years older, like his master or the Eight Sacred Treasures, or nearly five hundred years younger. He had rarely met anyone who was truly his contemporary.

“Lady Fusabis, the alcoholic mix is ready.”

“Why are you bringing alcohol?!”

“Just kidding—it’s a medicinal tonic.”

The one carrying the decoction of herbs was a woman trained in the way of the Consecrated Maidens. She wore the appropriate robes as well, but her Western facial features made the sight slightly disorienting.

“Now then, drink up.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s poison to ordinary people, but medicine for Tengu and Immortals. Drink it, then sleep. You Immortals are good at staying still, right? Ah—but don’t go and return to nature while you’re at it.”

Something that was ‘poison to normal humans yet medicine to Immortals’ was a little unsettling—but Sansui drained the medicinal tonic from the small ceramic vessel resembling a sake cup without hesitation. The warmth was just right, seeping through his entire body. If anything, it only made the loss of his right hand all the more astute.

“How is he doing, Rose?”

“Good. He’s improving.”

Rose appeared to be measuring Sansui’s condition using a Consecrated Maiden technique, and at her brisk reply, Fusabis visibly relaxed.

Sansui watched her with mild surprise. For himself and Suiboku, simply sensing another’s presence was enough to grasp their physical condition—so it struck him as strange that a physician like her could not do the same.

“Is there something you would like to say?” Fusabis asked.

“Wouldn’t an Immortal or a Tengu be able to tell someone’s condition just by reading their aura?”

“Well, I can do it to some extent, but practitioners of the Consecrated Maiden path are far better at it. That’s why I leave it to them.”

So it was simply a matter of division of labor—perhaps like the relationship between a doctor and an X-ray technician.

“More importantly—you’re a swordsman, not a physician. How can you understand physical conditions in such detail? For Lord Suiboku to train you to that level... I can’t comprehend it.”

Taking the empty cup from Sansui’s hand, Fusabis spoke sharply. There was nothing but seriousness in her eyes.

“You said you trained mainly in Flash Step and Inner Body Techniques... You do know those are entirely separate systems, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

From the perspective of Fusabis, an ordinary “Tengu” like Sansui having mastered both must have seemed like an anomaly.

“I can’t even use Feather Step, which is the foundation of Inner Body Arts. In fact, most Immortals and Tengu are the same. Beyond the bare minimum techniques, we usually master only a single line of study. The only exceptions are your master—and perhaps Lord Fukei.”

In other words, Suiboku—who had mastered every art—was an anomaly, and Fukei, who followed in his footsteps, was likewise an anomaly. Even Immortals, despite their limitless time, would not normally bother attempting such a thing.

“When you spread yourself across multiple systems, you end up incomplete and half-baked. Even the Great Tengu has mastered Void Arts—but that’s only because of his extraordinary lifespan. His true profession is treasure crafting...for better or worse.”

Having said that, she retrieved a wooden forearm from a large box in the room. It was a wooden limb crafted to human proportions. To an ordinary person it might have seemed like mere decoration, but Sansui immediately understood what it was.

“That’s a noble treasure as well?”

“Yes—a wooden prosthetic arm. I’ll adjust the length, so I’ll need to move your posture a bit.”

She guided him to hold both arms—his wounded right and intact left—straight out in front of him, aligning them to check the lengths. She marked the wood to match the left arm precisely, cut it down, then filed it smooth. Once finished, she attached the arm to Sansui.

“Oh...”

The moment the wooden arm connected to the stump of his severed limb, he felt something like nerves linking together. He could bend each finger freely, and even sensation—touch and pain alike—was connected. It felt as though his arm had been restored.

“This treasure was developed by my master, Fukaba, who passed on after completing his training, in cooperation with the Great Tengu during his lifetime. The effects of Quicken Self and Harden Self apply to it as well.”

“Incredible... I never imagined such a treasure could exist.”

The ability to regrow a severed human arm was astonishing—but recreating one using an entirely different material was equally astounding. Experiencing it firsthand, Sansui could only marvel.

“What are you talking about? We’re not done yet.”

After confirming the connection of the arm, Fusabis abruptly pulled the wooden limb free. Perhaps because the attachment had been formed through Immortal Arts, the arm—which had shown no sign of coming loose until now—came away with startling ease.

“Ugh?!”

Having the arm that had been perfectly connected just moments ago suddenly yanked off, Sansui let out an involuntary cry. Because he had been unprepared, it startled him even more than when Lloyd had severed his forearm.

“It’ll function fine as is, but if a man with an animate wooden arm were walking around, ordinary people would be shocked. Wait a moment—I’ll apply a substitute for skin.”

She removed a thin layer of hide that had been soaking in a jar of liquid. When she affixed it to the detached wooden arm, its texture began to change, becoming indistinguishable from that of a real human forearm. Reproducing a human arm was impressive enough—but recreating skin was quite astonishing as well. Seeing Tengu craftsmanship like this for the first time, Sansui was thoroughly amazed.

“This is a skin substitute made from peach peel. If simply applied, it can conceal wounds, but with proper treatment, it can even change one’s facial appearance.”

It was purely in the realm of cosmetics, yet it likely still fell under medicine. Sansui himself had little need for it, but it was clearly the sort of item ordinary women might seek.

“I’m impressed... Immortals who specialize in medicine truly are remarkable.”

Having known only himself and Suiboku among the long-lived, Sansui found the techniques of such specialists filled with wonder. He offered his praise from the bottom of his heart—but Fusabis, the one in question, wore a slightly sulky expression.

“I’m nothing special... Compared to the Great Tengu or my master, I amount to very little.”

It was something Sansui himself often said—and now hearing it from Fusabis, he froze, at a loss for how to respond. Young Immortals, keenly aware of the gulf separating them from their predecessors, must just be unable to accept praise at face value.

“The Great Tengu Cel is on an entirely different level from us. I can make prosthetics like this—but he can even recreate internal organs.”

“Internal organs... You mean things like the heart? With wood or stone?!”

“Not just the heart—he can reproduce even the brain and the liver.”

The heart, while vital, was not especially complex—essentially just a pump to circulate blood, something Sansui recalled could be mechanically replaced. But the liver was truly intricate, performing countless functions. As for the brain, there was no need to elaborate. If even a layman like Sansui understood that much, then Fusabis, a specialist, must have grasped it far more deeply.

“Of course, I can’t do that. Not as I am now. Even if I trained for a thousand years, I don’t think I could. At the very least, my master Fukaba was unable to achieve it in his lifetime.”

Replacing the human body through noble treasures had not been her master’s achievement. At best, he could reproduce only rudimentary parts—anything complex was completely beyond reach.

“The reason the Great Tengu never made healing-related noble treasures until he worked with my master was simply because he had no interest. A method of healing that doesn’t rely entirely on alchemy—and the noble treasures to enable it—could never have existed without him.”

There was no better word for it than submission. She had acknowledged that she could never catch up to the Great Tengu, who stood at the end of the same path she walked. And yet, her expression was not one of admiration, but of disdain.

That was the decisive difference between her feelings toward the Great Tengu and Sansui’s feelings toward Suiboku.

“You don’t respect the Great Tengu?” Sansui asked.

“Respect and approval are not the same. Tell me—do you know the Silver-Refining Furnace?”

It was probably the name of a noble treasure. However, Sansui had never heard of it.

“An Immortal who had mastered a certain alchemical art sought to rejuvenate ordinary people. To achieve a more advanced alchemy, he requested the Great Tengu’s cooperation. The result was Sage’s Mercury, a drug that restored youth to commoners—and the Silver-Refining Furnace that produced it. It was the worst of treasures, one that threw the human world into chaos.”

“That...must have stirred desire in many people.”

Sansui himself had once been resented for his youth. The person in question had been unhealthily obsessed, and the intensity of it had been overwhelming. An Immortal who had trained for years—decades even—to attain eternal youth and longevity would hardly be convincing if they spoke of it, yet some ordinary people clung to youth with frightening fixation.

“Like your master, the Great Tengu is a person who stands above such things. Precisely because of that, his achievements are many...but he lacks any sense of moral accountability.”

With that, Fusabis left the room together with Rose. She had likely thought that if she stayed any longer, she would end up venting.

“Good and evil are things Tengu and Immortals don’t truly need by nature... But without them, problems arise. That’s what I believe.”

Leaving those words behind, she departed.

“Good and evil, huh...”

Sansui looked at the prosthetic arm now attached to him. In the recent battle, there had been no room for good or evil to intrude, and even in its outcome, no lingering hatred remained. Yet if one were to say that harming one another was itself evil—and especially if a physician said so—he had no rebuttal.

Even so, he had no intention of changing the way he lived. In that sense, he was no different from his master or the Great Tengu. Feeling a twinge of guilt toward Fusabis, yet also a refreshing sense of satisfaction, Sansui drifted into sleep.

Part 18 — Conversation

By the day after the match, Sansui was already able to get up and move about.

Under normal circumstances, the loss of a hand would be considered a severe injury. Even with the bleeding stopped, the whole body would run hot, and one would be unable to stand properly for some time. However, the body of an Immortal, refined through long years of training, remained youthful and vigorous. Thus, after receiving proper treatment and sleeping for a single night, most of the fatigue had already vanished.

Once on his feet—and having largely recovered—Sansui headed out to visit Lloyd.

Flipping him upside down, stomping on his jaw, pinning him against the floor, using Quivering Feet... Thinking about it now, maybe I overdid it.

Considering that Lloyd had eaten Divine Ginseng and possessed noble treasures that mitigated impact, he’d probably still suffered lighter injuries than Sansui, who had lost a hand. Of course, it was hard to compare loss of limb with a blow to the head in the first place.

There was no margin for error.

Avoiding predictability, always keeping multiple options—those were principles Sansui had learned and taught. Yet when the moment came, only one way to defeat Lloyd had appeared in his mind. There had been only one answer—one attack that could fell him, one that could have cost his own life. Sansui felt ashamed of that weakness.

Still, it was fun.

They had both met and fought only yesterday, and that alone made their relationship feel too fleeting to simply end there. The order of these events might have been unconventional, but he wanted to talk properly. With that in mind, Sansui went to find Lloyd.

His destination was farmland. The men who had worn warrior monk garb the day before were now in their usual farmer attire, diligently tending the fields. Yet this was no ordinary farmwork. Vast arrays of gears, manipulated by many practitioners, tore into the earth, carving and turning it over. They were plowing fields using actual wheels—crushing the ground with a force impossible for human or animal labor alone, much like the agricultural machines Sansui knew from his previous world.

“Ahh...”

There was no village that did nothing but celebrate festivals, nor one that did nothing but fight. The practitioners of the Rapid Iron Style worked steadily, cooperating in orderly fashion as they tilled the land.

I see... So this is how it’s mainly used.

Nodding to himself, Sansui watched the agricultural work. He had already spotted Lloyd, but hesitated to interrupt him while he was working, choosing instead to simply observe the large-scale operation.

Then someone noticed him and came running. It was a group of children—and judging by their appearance and presence, young practitioners of the Rapid Iron Style.

“Hey! A Tengu!”

“A Tengu, a Tengu! It’s the Tengu our dad defeated!”

Children about the same age as Lain, or perhaps slightly older, clustered around him, pointing at Sansui.

“H-Hey—don’t be rude! This is the disciple of the Great Tengu Suiboku!”

“Eh? But Dad got praised by the Great Tengu, and that guy was the one who passed out, right?”

“A Tengu who can only use Immortal Arts can’t beat our dad, an eighth-rank Rapid Iron Style practitioner!”

“He was dumb to try—Tengu should just stick to making noble treasures like proper Tengu!”

“Y-You idiots! Shut up! I’m really sorry, Lord Sansui. My younger brothers and sisters said something very rude!”

Naturally, there were children in this village, and these ones seemed to belong to Lloyd.

“I told them properly that our father lost...but since he came home perfectly fine after being healed with Divine Ginseng, they won’t listen—they insist that Dad won.” One of the children spoke.

“No, no—I don’t mind at all. In a way, it was indeed a loss on my part.”

“Please don’t say that. Hearing that hurts my father more than anyone.”

It seemed that this boy—the eldest son—had been present to witness the fight between Sansui and his father. Because of that, he treated Sansui with genuine respect.

“Hey, you lot—go home.”

“B-But Dad got tons of rewards...”

“Yeah! The Great Tengu said he’d make all sorts of stuff for us...”

“We’re gonna brag to our friends!”

“Shut it! I’ll tell Dad!”

At that, the children scattered. Once things had calmed enough to talk properly, the eldest son cast a hesitant glance up at Sansui.

“Um. Are you not...disappointed?”

His opening words were apologetic.

“I-I mean, I heard you trained every day for five hundred years. Under Lord Suiboku—the one who even defeated Lord Fukei with ease. And yet, the man who fought you yesterday spends most of his days doing farmwork...”

“I’m not disappointed at all. If anything, I’m happy.”

“How can you say that?!”

Apparently, to the boy, farmwork was not something admirable. In that sense, his outlook was fairly ordinary—he likely yearned for the extraordinary world beyond the village.

“You, um, serve a king somewhere in Arcana or something, right? As a swordsman?”

“Yes. Something like that.”

“Yeah, I knew it. That’s amazing... You’re the disciple of the legendary raging god, after all.”

Being Suiboku’s disciple carried considerable weight, it seemed. The boy didn’t appear particularly surprised that Sansui held an important post in the outside world.

“So doesn’t it frustrate you? Having your arm cut off by a guy who just works on a farm all day?”

“Farming is a very important job. It may not be rare and exciting, since so many people do it—but it’s honest work, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s what the other Tengu always say.”

He looked faintly resentful, as though he had hoped for a different answer from Sansui. Perhaps he had wanted Sansui to take his father out of the village and recommend him to a ‘king.’ Certainly, that would have been an appealing dream.

“He works alongside everyone else to support his family. That makes him a fine father, does it not?”

“I’m grateful for that. But still—he’s so strong. It feels like a waste.”

“He truly is strong. The reason I don’t feel ashamed of my injury is because it wasn’t due to my own shortcomings, but because your father was a formidable opponent. If he left this village, he would do himself and his family proud.”

Sansui offered his praise without a trace of flattery—straight from the heart.

“Then—”

“However, if he worked in the outside world, he might be forced into battles against his will. Considering that, staying here isn’t such a bad choice.”

“Ahh... Honestly, I was kind of hoping you’d say something else.”

“If you wish to leave this village one day, I won’t discourage you. But you mustn’t force that desire onto your father.”

“Yes...”

It felt cruel to dampen the dreams of a boy who longed to see his father in a glamorous role—but not everything important in life was necessarily glamorous.

“And besides, training day in and day out isn’t always something admirable either.”

Sansui recalled the impact he had felt just yesterday. He also remembered the times his master had brought him Coiled Peaches and Divine Ginseng.

“I’m a man who’s only good at fighting... Unlike the Tengu of this village, I don’t contribute anything useful to everyday life. Because of that, my employer often calls me a boring man.”

Thinking back, it had always been that way. He had never trained because he wanted to be useful to someone, or to make someone happy. At the beginning, his motivation had been nothing more than a desire to put on airs. He wanted to use his strength to obtain money, women, status, and fame.

As his training continued, those desires faded, and before he knew it, his days were spent chasing after his master’s back. Rather than maturing, perhaps he had become like a child—someone who never questioned the absolute authority of a parent. With that mindset, there was no way he could acquire skills that brought joy to others, made people happy, or were of practical use.

He had somehow ended up in a position where he taught swordsmanship, but even that was only possible with the help of those around him. He hadn’t advertised himself, secured funding, recruited students, or arranged positions for his disciples on his own.

Thinking about it that way, he couldn’t help but feel inferior. A man whose only talent was fighting was, in the end, rather useless.

“Boring, huh...? From my point of view, my dad’s the boring one...”

Sansui’s words didn’t reach Lloyd’s eldest son. And Lloyd himself, having noticed Sansui and stepped away from the farmwork, wore much the same expression.

“Lord Sansui... You’ve already recovered?”

“Yes. I received excellent treatment.”

Saying that, Sansui deliberately removed his prosthetic arm for display. At the sight of it, Lloyd flinched slightly. Perhaps he had forgotten that he’d severed it—or perhaps he hadn’t remembered at all. Or maybe he’d assumed Sansui had been healed with Divine Ginseng. In any case, Lloyd was clearly startled by the sight of Sansui missing a forearm.

“I’ve fully recovered already.”

“It seems so.”

Seeing Sansui’s unshadowed smile, Lloyd smiled in return.

“My son didn’t say anything rude, did he?”

“No, not at all. We just had a bit of a conversation.”

“I can guess what you talked about.”

Lloyd looked a little embarrassed in his work clothes. He had his pride, and likely hadn’t wanted Sansui to see him like this. Yet changing clothes would have been embarrassing as well, so he continued as he was.

“The medicinal effects of the Divine Ginseng are truly remarkable. Not long after the match ended, I regained consciousness. By then, it was nothing more than a bit of pain in my jaw and head... Enough that I can work like this already.”

A festival was just a festival—nothing more than play. Letting it interfere with real life would be putting the cart before the horse. That was why being able to work the next day mattered so much. As a father, it was only natural. And yet, he still felt a sense of loneliness about it.

“It was as if I’d woken from a dream. I certainly fought you, and yet nothing remains. As though nothing had happened, I’ve returned to my everyday life like this... It makes me feel strangely wistful.”

It had been a truly enjoyable match. Precisely because of that, he hadn’t wanted it to be just a dream. He’d wanted something—anything—to remain in this moment.

“On a body that will live for thousands of years to come, I left a wound. It’s not something I should be happy about, but... No, I am happy.”

“So am I.”

Having endured such a fierce battle, the two of them wanted, because of that, to leave behind a token of friendship.

“It may be wrong of me to say, but...I feel a little sad that you are unharmed.”

“I feel the same, Lord Sansui. I’m glad you weren’t.”

They had shared a brief, joyful break from the ordinary in their lives. Watching the two of them face each other, Lloyd’s son found that the work clothes he usually disliked seeing his father in now looked somehow admirable.

Part 19 — The Secret Technique

The Great Tengu—the Tengu among Tengu, who had lived through endless ages. Among his many inventions were countless noble treasures, some of which occasionally left the hidden realm to be sold. These treasures sometimes became the weapons of heroes, sometimes the secrets of nations, and sometimes the seeds of conflict. Just as Divine Ginseng and Coiled Peaches were sought around the Arcana Kingdom, so too were the Great Tengu’s treasures relentlessly desired.

Those who knew the power of these treasures dreamed of them. They imagined the house of the one who made them, stacked high with such treasures. To obtain even one, they thought, would grant any wish. The treasure vault of these fantasies truly existed.

The Great Tengu stored the vast number of treasures he had personally crafted inside a high mountain at the center of the hidden realm. From the outside, it appeared to be a mere rocky hill—but in truth, it was a mountain of treasure. This was something everyone in the village knew. The Tengu could enter and borrow from it—with permission, of course. Yet in its innermost sanctuary, the noble treasure known as the “Dragon Slayer” existed—and only the Great Tengu knew of it.

Today, for the first time, he allowed someone to enter. The purpose: to deliver the dragon-slaying treasure.

“Great Tengu Cel, this is...”

Suiboku, the strongest man in the world, was speechless before the treasure that lay sealed in the deepest sanctuary.

“Hmm. You need not be told, but yes. This is what it is.”

There, displayed, was a single sword. A Japanese sword sheathed in a slightly dark red scabbard. Seeing it unsheathed would have been terrifying—but even as it remained in its scabbard, Suiboku shivered.

“This... It’s a forbidden technique. A taboo...”

What unsettled him was the material. Not a trace of metal had been used. This sword was made entirely from parts of living beings.

“As the creator of noble treasures, it feels like a defeat to claim such an item as my masterpiece... Yet still, this is the strongest weapon I have ever made.”

Even for Immortals and Tengu, whose sense of morality was weak, this was a forbidden treasure: a treasure made using the body of an Immortal.

“The Forbidden Noble Treasure—Immortal Bone: Twin Right Arms. The blade is ‘Ink.’ The scabbard is ‘Landscape.’ The strongest weapon, created from a human that surpasses the Eight Sacred Treasures.” An unprecedented and unmatched treasure, created by the world’s greatest artisan who dared to break the taboo.

Now, the Great Tengu’s most treasured possession was about to see the light of day.

Chapter 3 — Attack from Another World

Part 20 — The Target

Recently, the kingdom of Oseo had suffered immense damage—a blow severe enough to threaten the collapse of the entire nation. If this had been due to diplomatic friction or the ambitions of a great power, it might have been understandable. Yet in reality, it was retaliation for a prince’s rude remark at a wedding. Understanding it did not make it any easier to bear. The absurdity of the situation only fueled outrage.

It was incomprehensible. If the single prince himself had been killed, that might have been tolerable—but to destroy a nation in response was beyond reason. The king of Oseo, his ministers, and the people alike were plunged into despair.

Yet the appearance of monsters from the Old World changed everything.

These were the creatures that humanity, even with the Eight Sacred Treasures, could not defeat in the distant past. And now, they had come to fight on their side—a reinforcement equal to an entire army. The emergency council was abuzz with energy; the heavy, somber atmosphere lifted.

“Your Majesty, may I ask—why have they appeared in our kingdom only now, after ten thousand years?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t told.”

Yet upon reflection, the strangeness of the situation could not be ignored. Why had monsters that had not appeared for ten millennia suddenly arrived now? The leaders of Oseo decided to ask those very beings directly.

“As you know, we are like a boat sinking in water, left to be picked apart by our surroundings. Even if we knew your circumstances, there would be no reason to turn aside your aid. We ask that you reveal the truth here and now.”

“Of course. However...”

A bipedal monster covered in scales like a lizard, accompanied by other monsters as guards, paused before answering. There was a question he needed to ask first.

“First, tell me what happened ten thousand years ago. How was it recorded and passed down among humans?”

“I see... A reconciliation of accounts, then.”

Anyone learned in history would naturally know the myths of this world. The king, well educated himself, began speaking without hesitation.

“More than ten thousand years ago, humanity lived in the Old World. That world contained many intelligent monsters besides humans, among which dragons were feared as the strongest creatures.”

It felt strange to recount this to a monster of the Old World itself. Yet for alignment of knowledge, the king continued.

“The dragons boldly proclaimed to the gods that ‘we are greater than you,’ and other monsters agreed. Only humans opposed them, challenging the dragons and their followers. But they were powerless, and humanity teetered on the brink of extinction. Then the gods, in their mercy, bestowed upon humans the Eight Sacred Treasures. Yet even with them, they could not defeat the dragons, and in the end, they escaped aboard one of the Sacred Treasures—the Ark—into this world.”

“It seems the story has been passed down surprisingly accurately.”

Even after ten thousand years, the myth had not been distorted. The dragons of the Old World were astonished to find that humans had preserved the history of their retreat so faithfully.

“Then...what became of us afterward, in your myths? Were you not told?”

“Since the retreat, we’ve had no way of knowing about the original world...but we assumed that after the humans had been removed, the dragons and their ancestors lived in peace?”

The king’s ministers nodded in agreement. By ordinary reasoning, the dragons and their followers must have been living comfortably. Yet the Ancients were irritated by this speculation. Though it was the first time they had seen these beings, their agitation was evident.

“At first, yes, that was the case. Even with the power of the gods, humans could not defeat us. So our ancestors proudly claimed to be greater than the gods. However...”

It was a bitter revelation. The monsters trembled all over.

“As time passed, the Mother World...the ‘Old World’ you speak of...began to wither.”

“It became barren?”

“That understanding is correct. By the time we realized something was wrong, it was already too late—beyond recovery.”

There was no longer any water to drink, no food to eat. The land lost its bounty, and the seas their vitality. The dragons remained the strongest beings—but such strength was meaningless before a world that was withering away.

“We lost the love of the gods!”

The humans were left speechless as they imagined the scene. How terrifying it must have been to live in a world that was dying, a world that was drying up.

“Our world, abandoned by the gods, withered over the course of ten thousand years. By our generation, only the barest remnants of the land’s bounty remained.”

That was why they had come here. The people of Oseo felt a pang of sympathy, realizing that these beings had endured an even harsher plight than their own.

“We managed to recreate one of the Eight Sacred Treasures—Noah, the Ark—and followed humanity to this world. To this world, rich with the gods’ love... But of course, that means the gods’ beloved humans are here as well.”

The monsters had managed to arrive, but that did not mean they were safe. All Eight Sacred Treasures, the one thing capable of opposing them, were now assembled here.

“Those who wield the Eight Sacred Treasures... Warriors empowered by the gods...”

“Pardon me, but did your ancestors not defeat the Eight Sacred Treasures and their wielders?”

“You are correct. Our ancestors did defeat the Eight Sacred Treasures. But it is said that doing so required immense sacrifice. There is no guarantee that we, as we are now, could endure the same.”

Hearing this, the people of Oseo frowned. They had believed victory was assured. Now they realized that that hope had been naive.

“Hmph... Well, that is only to be expected. If the Eight Sacred Treasures were no threat to you, there would be no reason for you to ally with us.”

The king’s calm words made them reconsider. Perhaps this was not necessarily a bad thing.

“You are correct. We require human collaborators.”

The Eight Sacred Treasures were artifacts made for humans. Nonhumans could not properly maintain them. Dragons and their kin could not even store them—attempts to do so would simply cause the treasures to return to the gods.

“In an ideal scenario, we would move in step and invade Arcana, subjugating it. You would secure the Eight Sacred Treasures, and we would claim the majority of the territory. That is what we aim for.”

It was a dangerously bold statement—but to those who knew the legends of the Ancients, it was surprisingly restrained. So restrained, in fact, that it gave the listeners pause.

“Unlike your ancestors, you have no intention of exterminating humanity?”

“We cannot repeat the folly of our ancestors. Besides...the ones we truly hate are neither the humans nor the gods. We hate our ancestors, who arrogantly declared that gods were unnecessary.”

Had their ancestors stood before them now, they would have been struck down without hesitation. Such killing intent radiated from the dragons now.

“In any case...our goal is simply a territory where we can live in peace, without fear of starvation. We have no desire to exhaust ourselves by trying to claim the entire world.”

The leaders of Oseo—a nation abandoned by the rest of the world—had been prepared to cooperate even if it meant annihilating all other humans besides themselves. Yet the monsters’ goal was smaller than expected, leaving them momentarily taken aback. Then they reconsidered.

“It will not be easy.”

The king of Oseo said this precisely because he understood it firsthand.

“Destroying the Arcana Kingdom is more difficult than destroying every other nation combined. This is not merely my opinion—it is the consensus of all the surrounding great powers.”

“We are well aware.”

The dragon spoke with firm resolve.

“If we attack some lesser nation and make it our territory, we may well enjoy a hundred years of peace only for wielders of the Eight Sacred Treasures to invade one day and annihilate our descendants. This future is a real possibility.”

The dragon’s sense of crisis was entirely reasonable. Unlike their Mother World, this world was not barren; yet even so, land and resources were always contested. Human or not, no nation would accept a massive influx of outsiders.

“And besides...we cannot expect mercy from the Arcana Kingdom.”

“A natural judgment. At least based on the experiences of our own country, Arcana’s arrogance and ruthlessness are clear.”

Their reasons and motivations were convincing. The leaders of Oseo understood and sympathized with their goals. Once that understanding was reached, the dragon changed the topic.

“As you know, our reserves are limited. Before we attack a nation, we want to secure as much food as possible.”

In the withered Old World, there had been nothing to take, but in this world, the possibilities were vast. With sufficient power, resources could be seized from any number of places.

“Is there a place near this country where large food storehouses are managed?”

At the slightly mischievous question, the king smiled cruelly.

“Yes—I know just the one. Let us attack there first as a preliminary move.”

Part 21 — Pillage

To the south of the Arcana Kingdom lay the Jigsaw Kingdom. It possessed national power on a scale comparable to Arcana’s and was, at the same time, an extremely ambitious state. It regularly invaded the surrounding minor nations, demanding territorial concessions or outright annexation. Naturally, the people of the former nations it absorbed were subjected to brutal exploitation, making Jigsaw a dangerous country that sought to forcefully expand its power.

The small and medium-sized states around it greatly feared this kingdom and constantly monitored its mood. However, no matter how much they flattered it or sent tribute, it only bought time. To the Jigsaw Kingdom, smaller nations were merely prey to be devoured sooner or later, and it had no intention of listening to their pleas for mercy. If a nation happened to incur its wrath, it simply meant that its remaining time would run out even faster.

Even for such a greedy and powerful Jigsaw Kingdom, however, the alliance between the Arcana Kingdom and the Domino Republic was a threat. Just as there had been an exchange between the Black Prince and the leadership of the Oseo Kingdom before the wedding began, similar discussions had taken place in the Jigsaw Kingdom, where a plan was proposed. The idea was to form an anti-Arcana coalition led by Jigsaw, tightening economic and military pressure to sap Arcana’s momentum.

While the king attended the wedding, preparations progressed within the Jigsaw Kingdom on the assumption that such an anti-Arcana alliance would be formed. However, after the wedding held in the Arcana Kingdom, the king of Jigsaw returned home and declared the following:

“The plan to encircle the Arcana Kingdom is canceled. This is a royal order. I will tolerate no objections.”

Upon his return, the king canceled the plan with a single decisive command. Naturally, voices of doubt rose among the leadership. Some even suspected that the king had been cursed by sorcery, but the king, of course, denied this. He added that other great powers felt the same, insisting that he had not changed his mind alone. As for the crucial reason, he maintained complete silence.

The retainers were bewildered, but one thing was clear from the look on his face. At the very least, the king had not been swayed by temptation. And they sensed that prying into the matter carelessly might very well get them killed. He appeared intensely irritated and absolutely refused to speak of what he had seen at Arcana’s joint wedding.

“Destroy the Oseo Kingdom and annex it. Capture every member of the royal family and nobility and burn them all alive.”

Thus, for reasons unknown, the king redirected the spear that had been aimed at Arcana toward the neighboring mid-tier state, the Oseo Kingdom. The wise military commanders raised no objections and began preparations for the march. Since the target was the declining Oseo Kingdom, no one complained—there was no chance of losing.

Of course, there would be negotiations with other great powers, but everyone assumed those had already been handled. It was hardly appropriate—indeed, it would have been downright rude—to question a king who had just returned from the diplomatic stage as if they were dealing with a child. They believed there must be some deeper reasoning behind withdrawing from Arcana and turning their eyes to Oseo instead. But the king of the Jigsaw Kingdom did not invade based on such political philosophy. He invaded because there was no obstacle to doing so—and because he wanted to.

“Honestly... This is truly unpleasant! So this is what it means to be thoroughly detestable.”

At that moment, the Jigsaw king sat upon the throne in the audience chamber. His posture was slovenly, chin propped on his hand—utterly unfitting for the throne of a great power. Had anyone in the court other than him behaved so, they would have been executed, and their relatives punished as well. Even though he was the reigning king, it was the sort of conduct that would have drawn reprimands had his senior ministers been watching. However, at present, there was no one else in the audience chamber. He was alone, so naturally, there was no one to complain.

“Hmph... That brat really put me in a foul mood.”

The target of his anger was Prince Black Oseo—the epitome of insolence, a man who had hurled abuse at Magyan Tahlan without the slightest sense of propriety. At the initial stage, he had already been punished by the head of the Sepaeda house. Some might have complained that the punishment was excessive, but the king of Jigsaw, at least, had considered it appropriate. The problem came afterward. As further retaliation, the head of Sepaeda had dispatched a man named Sansui Shirokuro and the king had been forced to witness the extent of that man’s rampage.

“Why must I be made to suffer like this?”

His blood had run cold, even as his guts seemed to boil with rage. For the sake of self-preservation and for the sake of the state during this time, he had been forced to flatter the Arcana Kingdom with all his might—flattery he never wanted to offer. He wanted to vent the pent-up resentment of having been made to behave so humiliatingly. That was why he decided to invade and destroy Oseo. In other words, for reasons that were little more than displaced anger, he was about to wage war.

“Well...at least we should gain some territory.”

By the hand of Sansui Shirokuro, Oseo had already been devastated. Even if he won, there would be little to gain, but that also meant the invasion would be easy. Without imagining any difficulty, he let out a light breath.

In the border region of the Jigsaw Kingdom, there stood a massive fortress that served as the base for the invasion of the Oseo Kingdom. At present, enormous quantities of food and weapons were being gathered from the vassal provinces and stockpiled there. It was simply proper procedure when preparing to attack another nation; armies needed to be fed and equipped, after all.

“Still, there’s so much. This campaign is against the Oseo Kingdom, right? Do we really need all this?”

“Did you not read the documents? They say the region is already worn down, so local procurement will be difficult. That’s why we’re bringing extra supplies. Still, for an attack on a mid-tier nation, it is actually quite a lot...”

“Why is it already worn down before we’ve even invaded?”

The soldiers in charge of managing the provisions were checking that there was no discrepancy between their lists and the actual supplies in the storehouses. Given the sheer volume, the inspection had turned out to be a little rough, but neglecting it would allow embezzlement and skimming to run rampant. A little pilfering might be tolerable, but if it became large-scale, it would be no laughing matter.

“When I see supplies gathered to conquer an entire country, I always think the same thing—how awful it would be if someone attacked here and stole them.”

“Yeah, I can’t say I don’t get that. If all of this were taken, it’d be like a nightmare.”

Looking at the sheer mass of provisions under their care, it was not strange to think that way. Still, that concern was about as realistic as worrying whether a real ghost might appear in a haunted house. They spoke lightly because they knew it could never actually happen.

“Well, unless every soldier in this fortress is wiped out, no one’s stealing these supplies. No matter how big an army comes, that’d be impossible.”

“True enough.”

Stealing from a temporary field depot or a supply column during a campaign was one thing, but taking food stockpiled inside a fortress was unthinkable. So it really was just needless speculation—imagining that this place might be attacked. At the very least, there was no force in the surrounding area capable of capturing this fortress.

“Hey, do you hear that? There’s a noise coming from outside.”

Their assumptions were not wrong. The idea that monsters who had nearly wiped out humanity ten thousand years earlier might attack this fortress was itself an absurd thing to imagine.

Fresh grass and flowers, towering trees—scenery that was commonplace in this world appeared dazzling to visitors from a world that had withered away. But mere beauty did not fill empty stomachs. They had not come as tourists; they had come to the Jigsaw Kingdom’s border with the sole purpose of plunder. “If I were truly thinking in the long-term, I would have wanted the first target to be the Arcana Kingdom. And not for food, but to steal noble treasures.”

The dragon who served as overall commander said this while glaring at the distant fortress.

“However, we need food right now.”

He spoke those words after wrestling with the matter in his own way. Attacking another country like this only pushed them farther from their ultimate goal. Yet if they did not secure food now, they would be wiped out immediately. On the long journey to this new world, the monsters’ provisions had been nearly exhausted. Oseo had no such surplus either, and if things continued as they were, both sides would collapse together. In any case, they had to seize food as quickly as possible.

“No objections?”

The monsters listened in silence, without even nodding. It was not merely that they agreed—they themselves were the ones most desperately in need of food. The monsters who had established a base in the Oseo Kingdom had left their families behind there. They wanted to bring food back and feed them as soon as possible.

“Very well. Then let us go.”

Pressed by that silent insistence, the dragon issued the order. The monsters nearly burst into triumphant roars, but restrained themselves and began to move. Or rather, movement came from one particular kind among them.

“Now, use your Arts! Work together and camouflage us!”

This cry came from a monster resembling a bipedal cat. If it had merely been an ordinary cat walking on two legs, it might have been cute, but its upright height was comparable to that of a small human. Combined with the simple weapon it held and the expression on its face, it gave the impression of a lightweight beast-warrior.

The cat used its Art, and the rest of its kind followed suit—not just one or two of them, but all one hundred cats present in the army. The Art they employed created illusions. The mixed army of monsters, along with the regular troops they had brought from Oseo—around two thousand in total—was completely enveloped and concealed.

From the outside, it looked as though the trees themselves were swelling unnaturally; from the inside, it felt as if they were wrapped in a dense mist.

“So this is...the kind of Art monsters can wield?”

One of the accompanying Oseo soldiers murmured this. In response, the dragon began to explain as if it were nothing special.

“I see. It seems that knowledge has not been passed down. Then I will explain briefly. Among all intelligent beings, humans included, each race has Arts it excels at.”

He began to recount knowledge that had been lost over ten thousand years.

“Bipedal cats, as the humans call them, specialize in what is known as Illusion Arts: the art of creating phantasms. These illusions have the power to deceive the five senses. They do not merely ‘look’ real. If you try to touch them, it will feel as though you did.”

Hearing the dragon’s explanation, the Oseo soldiers reached out to touch the surrounding illusions. Strangely enough, it truly felt as if they were touching something. When they brushed against the branches of an illusory tree, those branches actually moved. On the other hand, if one tried to grasp and pull them, or attempted to hang from a thick branch, their hands cut through empty air. It was as though a powerful hypnotic spell had made them believe that real trees stood there.

“I’ve heard that there are rare humans who can use the same kind of power, but from what I understand, they can only create illusions that deceive from afar. If you touch them, their true nature becomes obvious.”

“I-I see...”

Those of us who know this is an illusion can tell... But from the outside, no one would notice. Especially if it were the first time they’d ever seen it!

The Oseo soldiers approaching the fortress wore cruel smiles within the illusions.

If we can get this close, there’s no way we lose!

A fortress was certainly strong. Once defenders holed up inside, they could resist forces several times their size. Against an enemy with fewer numbers, defeat was almost impossible. But that was only after the fortress had been sealed. A fortress still had gates and doors, and except in emergencies, they remained open. Even doors that were locked merely needed a key to be opened, not barricaded as they would be during combat.

Beyond the illusion, peaceful-looking Jigsaw soldiers could be seen. The sentries were looking in their direction, but the illusion blocked their awareness.

We’ve won...!

The Oseo soldiers licked their lips. It was the expression of a carnivorous beast lurking downwind, having crept to point-blank range without its prey noticing. As soldiers, they knew how much time it took to do something as basic as closing the gates. They knew how fragile a fortress was when it was not in a combat-ready state.

“Their Illusion Art, False Reality, can produce images and sounds, but it cannot erase what actually exists. If trees suddenly appear in a place with no cover at all, there’s no reason they wouldn’t be noticed.”

The dragon, commander of the monsters, apologized to the Oseo commander with a slightly tense expression.

“I’m sorry, but from here on, we can no longer hide within the illusion.”

“What are you saying? This is already more than far enough.”

The Oseo commander instead wore a brutal, confident smile. The entrance to the fortress was now right before them. If they charged from here, they could reach the gate before an alarm was even sounded.

“Indeed. Then—!”

At the dragon’s signal, the bipedal cats dispelled the illusion. In that instant, the roughly two thousand soldiers who had been hidden by the illusion were laid bare.

“Huh...?”

The sentries and gate guards who saw it doubted their own eyes. It felt as though they themselves were seeing an illusion. Tragically for them, it was reality.

“Aaaaahhhh!”

Human roars and the roars of monsters rang out, intermingling for the first time in this world’s history. Years of frustration and anger overflowed into morale as they surged forward, intoxicated by their overwhelming advantage.

“Wh-What...?”

In contrast, the Jigsaw soldiers were far too defenseless. Faced with the avalanche of charging monsters, they had no way to respond. They could not even sound the alarm before being swallowed by a storm of violence.

“Ha ha ha ha! We’ll slaughter every last one of you!”

For the mid-tier nation of Oseo, Arcana—which had driven them to the brink of collapse—was certainly a hated enemy. But nearby Jigsaw, which had exploited them repeatedly for generations, was another long-standing foe. Drunk on the pleasure of unilaterally trampling the fortress of a great power, the Oseo soldiers reveled in it.

“N-No— Gyaaah!”

“Ha ha ha ha! Just like the legends say—humans really are weak!”

And the monsters grew even more carried away. Bipedal rhinoceroses, bipedal bulls, bipedal dogs—countless monsters towered over the humans, heavily built and fully armed. They laughed uproariously as they scattered the disorganized rabble in chaos.

“Ah-oooh!”

A bipedal dog chased after fleeing humans. The Jigsaw soldiers desperately ran through the fortress, but the bipedal dog, with its long limbs, easily caught up to them. It was not using any special Art; dogs—even bipedal ones—were simply faster than humans. This was a difference of species, and therefore absolute—not some trivial gap like that between a fast human and a slow one.

“Ah-ooooooh!”

The bipedal dog swung the one-handed sword it held, slashing open the backs of the fleeing soldiers. The attacked soldiers lost all strength and collapsed to the ground, unable to rise again. Without the slightest hesitation, the bipedal dog stomped on their backs and leaped toward yet another human.

“Ngh!”

A bipedal bull raised its one-handed axe and charged at a Jigsaw soldier. This monster possessed a body as large as, or larger than, an ordinary farm cow. Facing such a terrifying form, a brave Jigsaw soldier tried somehow to resist.

“D-Damn you... You monster!”

He raised a metal shield, attempting to block the axe blow. He lowered his center of gravity, braced the shield with both hands, and poured his entire being into defense. He did not even consider counterattacking. The tactic was passive, but solid; against a human opponent, he might have endured several blows.

“Ugh...!”

But he could not withstand even a single strike. The blow from the bull monster’s axe crushed the shield he held, and the impact hurled his body through the air, smashing him into the wall. With a difference in weight greater than that between an adult and a child, there was no way he could have stopped it, no matter how hard he tried. Taken to the extreme, even a simple slap would have killed him just the same.

“D-Dieee!”

A Jigsaw soldier used fire magic. He set his sword ablaze and slashed at the back of a bipedal rhinoceros. If the opponent had been human, the massive blood loss and burns would have been fatal, but to any living creature, it should have still been an effective attack.

“Ahh?!”

The bipedal rhinoceros was struck by the flaming sword. Focused entirely on attacking, it had been caught off guard.

“That’s gotta hurt!”

The burning blade was not completely ineffective. However, clad in armor and possessing thick hide, the bipedal rhinoceros did not suffer a fatal wound. Perhaps with several more successful strikes it could have been brought down—but that future no longer existed.

“Hkk—!”

The bipedal rhinoceros’s thick arm—no, the even thicker club it wielded—smashed down onto the brave soldier’s head. Helmet and all, it was crushed into pulp.

“This is great! The best!”

Watching the rampage, the Oseo soldiers rejoiced that these beings were on their side. It was not a matter of having one or five strongest warriors. Elites of many races had gathered together. Everyone was intoxicated by the overwhelming destructive power of this mixed army. Thus, the fortress was annihilated in an instant. And the stockpiles—“supplies meant to conquer an entire nation”—were about to be used for precisely that purpose.

Several days later, an unbelievable report reached King Jigsaw.

The fortress that had stockpiled provisions and weapons had been utterly destroyed—in just a few hours. A horde of monsters had appeared out of nowhere, truly without warning, and had assaulted the fortress, looting it without restraint. While most of the leaders refused to take the report seriously, the king alone clutched his head in despair.

“What in the world is happening...?”

The world was changing—changing in ways he had never wished for. The king of a great nation writhed in anguish.

Part 22 — Emotions

The Jigsaw Kingdom had been preparing to invade another land, but in a stroke of great irony, that very fortress had been attacked and the vast quantities of supplies and food were plundered by the Allied Multispecies Army. The enormous amount of food that the Jigsaw Kingdom had gathered from across the land was soaked in blood and sweat, but to the multispecies alliance, who carried back more spoils than they could hold, that fact meant nothing at all.

First and foremost, they fed their families generously, and then themselves ate their fill. Drunk on the taste of victory, they basked in the happiness of full stomachs. Supplies were abundant, morale was high, and monsters and humans marched in step. This operation had served as the perfect skirmish, a morale booster before the real battle.

And the leaders understood that this was the final branch in the road.

Leaving behind the soldiers and civilians who laughed cheerfully, the king of Oseo and the dragon leader spoke alone. Despite the ferocious smiles on their faces, their expressions were rigid. It was proof that emotion and reason were clashing with tremendous force.

“Our generals’ reports have been impressive. They say the monsters of the old world are strong... Strong enough to lose to no one.”

“That may be overestimating us. Still, our warriors will be pleased. And we have heard as well that the humans of this country fight well alongside us.”

Even for the two who bore ultimate responsibility, this battle had been flawless. And precisely because of that, they now faced an extremely simple problem.

“If we are to be wise about this, we should not fight Arcana.”

The king’s expression was stiff as he said it; he clearly did not enjoy speaking those words aloud. Still, it was his rational judgment, and so it had to be said.

“We should abandon the idea of securing the Eight Sacred Treasures, and rather invade nations that are on bad terms with Arcana and seize their lands instead. That is what I should be persuading you—persuading all of us—to do.”

“Indeed. That would be a wise decision in its own way.”

To the monsters of the old world, the Eight Sacred Treasures were the greatest threat. At the very least, that was how the monsters perceived them. To actively provoke a great power that possessed all eight treasures could only be called foolish.

“And yet, Arcana shows no mercy. This country, of all places, knows that better than anyone, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Exactly!”

The king of Oseo leaned forward, his true emotions overflowing in the foolish, unbridled joy of charging straight ahead.

“The wisdom inside me screams that we should not cling to Arcana. And yet I know that no matter what I say, my people cannot abide that!”

The king of Oseo was, in truth, the very embodiment of his people. What lay in his heart was identical to what lay in theirs.

“Humans are foolish creatures. Surrounded by countless weaker nations, they still choose to wage war against the strongest one simply because they hate it. And what’s worse—they rejoice from the bottom of their hearts! That is the greatest foolishness of all!”

Sansui—or rather, the Arcana Kingdom—had pushed them too far. They had driven Oseo into a corner so completely that they stripped it of wisdom, stripped it of self-preservation. No one could stop this war anymore. Even knowing that other paths existed, they could no longer retreat.

“We want to make that superpower—so certain of its own invincibility—feel our rage!”

“Choosing you as our ally was not a mistake.”

The dragon smiled cruelly as well. Had either of them withdrawn or hesitated here, their unity would have faltered. Fortunately, there was no such concern. The monsters of the old world and the people of Oseo burned with a single will to fight Arcana.

Side Story — Picture Book

At present, I—Sansui Shirokuro—was staying at the Wynne estate, my wife’s family home. Together with our daughters, Lain and Fanne, we were spending time as a family. As for what we were doing, Lain had Fanne sitting in her lap as she read her a picture book while Blois and I watched the heartwarming sight of the sisters together.

“And so, the prince and the princess lived happily ever after. The end.”

Fanne was still very young, so pointing out that she probably couldn’t understand the story would have been terribly uncouth. Just seeing Lain act like a proper big sister made both Blois and me happy. Fanne sat on Lain’s lap, looking at the picture book and occasionally pointing at it. She seemed more interested in the illustrations than in Lain’s narration. Just seeing them like this was enough to make us happy as parents.

But that was how Blois and I felt—Lain apparently felt differently. After setting the finished book aside, she asked me with a slightly dissatisfied look:

“Hey, papa, aren’t there any other picture books? We’ve already read all the ones we have.”

“Well... Probably not?”

Fanne likely didn’t understand the contents anyway, so reading the same book over and over wouldn’t have been a problem. But Lain wanted to do things properly. She was a genuinely good child, able to think from another’s perspective. That said, there was nothing I could do to fulfill her request.

Picture books were fairly expensive in this country to begin with—and there simply weren’t many kinds available. If we’d bought some when we went to Magyan, we might’ve been able to bolster—maybe even double—our collection, but thinking back, we hadn’t even known about Fanne then. So it couldn’t be helped.

“What do you think, Blois? If we went to a big shop, would they have more?”

“Only famous stories get turned into picture books, so there really aren’t that many.”

Blois dismissed my idea. It seemed this country truly lacked variety in children’s books.

“I want to read Fanne something new...”

“That you feel that way probably already makes Fanne very happy, you know?”

“I don’t think so.”

Lain soundly rejected Blois’s attempt at consolation, leaving Blois on the verge of tears. Well, Lain was at an age when picture books were genuinely fun, so she probably judged things based on her own standards.

“Then how about this—we make a new picture book ourselves?”

I said it half on impulse, but even I thought it wasn’t a bad idea. If we weren’t actually binding it, it should be easy enough. It would be fun just to make, and with both Blois and me involved, it would be good family bonding.

“Oh! Then I’ll draw the pictures!”

“And I’ll write the text!”

Lain and Blois both got excited.

Yes, thisis exactly the kind of feeling I was hoping for.

But at that time, none of us had yet imagined just how difficult it was to create a picture book—or rather, a story.

We prepared plenty of sturdy paper large enough for a pop-up book, along with crayons to illustrate it. Now it was time to make our picture book. To give baby Fanne a new story to read, the three of us would work together.

“Hey, papa. What kind of story are we making? If we just recreate an existing one, it’ll be the same, right?”

“That’s true... Maybe we could take an adult story and make it kid-friendly. Ah, no, that might be hard too.”

I’d only ever made functional things at best, like wooden swords. When it came to crafting a story, I had no concrete ideas. Even though I’d suggested it, I was completely out of inspiration. Then Blois offered a good idea.

“Sansui, why don’t we just use a story from your homeland?”

“Oh, you’re right. Then the one I remember best would be Momotaro.”

I’d left my homeland five hundred years ago, but I still remembered Momotaro. At least to me, when I thought of picture books, it was the first story that came to mind.

“What kind of story is it?”

As Lain grew curious, I began explaining the outline.

“There’s a group of monsters called oni who collect treasures from all over. A swordsman named Momotaro sets out to defeat them, accompanied by three animals, and takes back the treasure.”

“That sounds fun!”

I realized I hadn’t explained why he was called “Momotaro”—but talking about being born from a peach would probably confuse her, so I left that out.

“What animals go with him?”

“A dog, a monkey, and a pheasant.”

“A dog, a...monkey, and a pheasant? I know dogs, but what are monkeys and pheasants?”

That brought things to an abrupt halt. Dogs existed here, but Japanese macaques and pheasants did not. Honestly, I wasn’t confident I could even draw them, so I decided to cut them out.

“They don’t have to be those animals. Why not use ones you know? Like a dog, a horse, and a cow?”

Even as I said it, the balance felt off. Dog, horse, and cow would look strange in a picture book. All four-legged, the dog being small—it would make Momotaro stand out less. Thinking about it, dog, monkey, and pheasant really were well chosen.

“I want to do it properly...”

Even so young, Lain was serious. As a father, that made me very happy.

“All right, then how about Urashima Taro? The only animal in that one is a sea turtle.”

I offered a second idea. I hadn’t seen sea turtles in this world, but surely they existed—and they were distinctive enough to draw.

“What’s that one about?”

“Urashima Taro was a fisherman who saved a sea turtle being bullied by children on the beach. To repay him, the turtle took him to a palace under the sea. He was treated kindly there, and when he left, he was given a box called a tamatebako—but he was told never to open it.”

“Huh? It’s a gift, but you can’t open it? What happens if you do?”

“After returning to the surface, Urashima Taro opens it, and he turns into an old man.”

“I don’t want to draw that!”

After hearing the ending, Lain shouted in disgust. Thinking about it, she was right—it was bleak. The final scene was an old man wearing a young man’s clothes.

“Sansui, that story may have educational value, but making Lain draw it would be cruel.”

“You’re right...”

Even Blois flatly rejected it. If we were going to draw something, it should end happily. Now then—what else was there? Cinderella might fit the setting...but there were no clocks in this world.

“Then let’s make a picture book about papa and Blois!”

While I was pondering, Lain suddenly suggested something unexpected.

“Papa’s an ace and the Young Blademaster. I think it would work as a picture book.”

“Hmm. If we make a book about Sansui, that means I’ll be in it too...”

Blois didn’t seem necessarily opposed, which made it hard for me to reject the idea. Turning myself into a book was embarrassing, but it wasn’t for sale, so maybe it was fine.

“Still, my stories are pretty bloody, so let’s just focus on the ‘me and Blois’ part of it.”

Even so, we’d need to choose the episode carefully. Especially the public beheading incident involving the Domino Republic—that one was definitely out.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t want to draw beheadings either.”

It seemed my concern didn’t even need to be voiced. If Lain turned my battles into a picture book, it would probably come out looking mentally unstable. Though...come to think of it, Momotaro wasn’t all that different.

“Then, papa! Tell us the story of you and Blois!”

“Well then. Once upon a time, in a certain place...”

It was a story about me in the present, but it did begin a long time ago, so I had to start that way. How should I explain it, though? If I started with my hometown in Japan, it would be confusing for Lain, Blois, and anyone who read it in the future.

I decided to start at a point they both already knew.

“Long, long ago, in a certain place, there lived an amazing swordsman named Suiboku.”

“Why is this from Lord Suiboku’s point of view...?”

Blois cut in, but it couldn’t be helped—it was easier to start the story that way. Master Suiboku had been born in a distant land, but he was still a person of this world.

“He was a great swordsman, but he had no disciples. One day, the gods sent him a disciple.”

“That’s papa!”

“That disciple was named Sansui. Suiboku taught Sansui his techniques with great dedication and raised him into a full-fledged swordsman. Then, one day, near the house where the two of them lived, an abandoned baby was left behind.”

“That’s me!”

“Suiboku told Sansui, ‘Raise this child,’ and sent him on his way.”

“Hey, Sansui. I know I’m going to show up soon, but if this is supposed to be a picture book, isn’t the introduction a bit too long?”

At that point, Blois reminded us that this was meant to be a children’s book. She was right. If Lain was going to draw the pictures, the introduction probably should have been shorter.

“Then let’s skip a bunch of stuff and start with how Blois and I met.”

“Y-Yeah!”

Lain must have also realized that drawing everything in detail would be hard work, because she agreed to shorten it.

“Long, long ago, there lived a princess named Douve. She had two special bodyguards.”

“That’s papa and Mama Blois!”

“One was a swordsman from a foreign land, and the other was a girl who could use magic.”

“Mm-hmm. That works as one picture.”

“The two of them...fell in love, got married, and had a child.”

“That’s the second picture. And then?”

“And they lived happily ever after.”

“It ended in just two pages!”

Lain looked extremely dissatisfied.

Still, if the story was limited to just Blois and me, that was about how it would go.

“Well... For me, that really is happily ever after, but...”

Blois agreed, looking slightly embarrassed. From our point of view, it really was happy enough.

“This won’t make a good picture book. Isn’t there a love rival or something?”

Our daughter insisted that her parents’ love needed an obstacle. She was already a proper storyteller.

“Well, I mean, the only one who loved me was Blois, and the only one Blois loved was me.”

“That’s true. It was a very peaceful romance.”

“Then let’s base a love rival on someone we know!”

What happened to wanting to faithfully draw Momotaro’s animals? Our daughter began imagining a love rival who didn’t even exist.

Still, with so few characters, maybe we really should add one or two. Ideally, it would be better if there weren’t real-life models, but for amateurs like us, that was a high bar. And since it was a picture book, drawing it would already be hard enough.

“Then the one who goes after papa can be Lady Douve! There are stories like that!”

“Now that you mention it, there are...”

Douve cut a distinctive character, so she would probably work well in a picture book. But there was a problem.

“Hey, Lain. With that casting, I’d be competing with Lady Douve, right? Honestly, I don’t think I could win.”

Blois spoke weakly, trying to reason with Lain. After a moment of thought, Lain herself conceded.

“Yeah. You couldn’t win.”

Lady Douve didn’t have combat ability in the sense of killing, but when it came to interpersonal relationships, she was unmatched. There was no way a character based on Blois could defeat one based on her—especially not in a picture book.

“Then let’s have another man fall in love with Mama Blois, and have papa win!”

“That sounds nice... Really nice.”

Blois looked blissfully happy. She probably didn’t actually want to be the crux of a real love triangle, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of being fought over in an imaginary situation.

“Then...should the rival be Lord Tahlan?”

“Lain, I can’t win against that.”

“You’re right. In a story, you’d have no chance.”

There was no way Tahlan would fall in love with Blois; he’d fallen for Lady Douve, after all, so someone with the exact opposite personality wouldn’t interest him. And Blois wouldn’t like Tahlan either. At the very least, when they were together, she had never once felt her heart flutter.

But if a character based on Tahlan fell for a character based on Blois, I—or a character based on me—would almost certainly be defeated. Well, maybe not as bad as all that, but readers surely wouldn’t accept it.

“Then the reason I marry Blois becomes ‘Prince Tahlan was wonderful, but she preferred Sansui, so Blois married him instead.’ That would be pretty lame as a romance story.”

“Mmm, but no one else really fits...”

If the only possible character models were the lady and Tahlan, that was a bit worrying from a father’s perspective regarding Lain’s social circle. Still, Blois and I were pretty much the same, so maybe that was normal.

“Then let’s just draw people who look like papa and Mama Blois and make that into a story!”

After wandering all over the place, we ended up back at the starting point. Whatever happened to drawing my story? Granted, that would require Lain to have some serious drawing skills... No, pointing that out would be tasteless.

“Then papa will be the strongest swordsman, and Mama Blois will be a princess.”

“I see... So I’m the princess.”

Blois still looked embarrassed. Being cast as a princess seemed to please her more than her original role. It hadn’t exactly been her choice to become a guard, after all.

“The reason they met is because Mama Blois gets driven out by an evil king, runs away, meets papa, and gets saved. Then papa defeats the evil king, and they share a happy kiss.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Lain’s imagination—no, her story—was actually quite good. Blois, the heroine, looked delighted. But then I noticed a serious problem. It might have been tactless to say it, but realizing it later would have been far more awkward, so I spoke up.

“Hey, Lain. Your story isn’t bad at all, and I think it’s perfect for a picture book.”

“Right?!”

“But with that setup...isn’t that not Blois, but you?”

“Oh... Yeah.”

“That’s true...”

A princess who was driven out by bad adults, saved by me, protected by me, and had her homeland’s villains defeated. That was completely Lain.

“It kind of turned into a story where papa and I get married.”

“Yeah. It’s Lain with Blois’s name...”

I felt guilty for extinguishing the joy of my wife and daughter. Still, it was better than realizing it during or after finishing the book. Lain and I weren’t related by blood, but we were truly parent and child, so it would have been extremely awkward.

“Making a picture book is hard...”

“It really is...”

Personal experiences were boring, but even fiction that overlapped with our lives became awkward in its own way.

As we wondered what to do...

“Let’s go ask Lyra!”

“Even Lyra might be troubled by this.”

“I hope we’re not a bother...”

We ended up deciding to rely on Blois’s younger sister, Lyra Wynne. She was extraordinarily capable despite her age, but even so, this might be difficult for her. She was intelligent, but surely a novice at creative writing.

Still, since Lain wanted to ask her, we couldn’t say no.

Lyra Wynne was yet unmarried and not yet employed, still living at home at the Wynne estate. It felt bad to interrupt her studies, but the four of us went together anyway.

“So, we tried to make a new picture book, but it just wouldn’t work.”

“Oh my, that sounds lovely. It’s much more fun than throwing something together randomly.”

“I think so too, but not being able to come up with a suitable story is really frustrating...”

“But me making something up for you feels a little off, doesn’t it?”

“That’s true too.”

“Then...why not turn what’s happening right now into a picture book?”

And just like that, Lyra’s idea became the final decision.

Several years later—

“Hey, Lain! Aren’t there any other stories?”

“Oh my, are you bored already? Then I suppose I’ll read you my special one.”

“What kind of story is it?”

“It’s a story about a big sister, a papa, and a mama who try to make a new picture book for children who want to read something new—just like you.”

“There’s a story like that?”

“They think very hard and try to make a wonderful picture book, but they can’t, so they go ask a wise witch for advice.”

“And then? And then?”

“That part’s a secret. Now then, shall we read it?”

“This picture is weird. It looks like I drew it.”

“That’s because I did draw it—when I was a child. It brings back memories... Now then, I’ll begin. The title is...”

The book was titled A New Picture Book.

Afterword

Thank you very much for purchasing Volume 10 of The World’s Least Interesting Master Swordsman. We’ve finally reached double digits. We are approaching the final phase, and I would be grateful if you would continue to accompany us to the end.

In this volume, an opponent appears who hard-counters Immortal techniques and battles Sansui head-on. It is a duel where both sides skillfully anticipate each other’s moves, and although Sansui wins, he is severely injured.

Seeing Sansui—who has rarely suffered notable injuries up to this point—take such a grave wound makes me feel that the story is truly heading toward its conclusion.

If Sansui had been badly injured early on, readers might have thought, “Wow, he’s weak.” This kind of development only works once readers are invested enough to be shocked and say, “What?! Sansui got hurt?!”

At the same time, repeating such a major event would be tedious, but making him never struggle again afterward would also bore readers.

For those reasons, I felt this was something that could only be done near the end.

On the other hand, I hope there is a sense of disparity between the readers and Sansui.

Sansui himself—and Suiboku—don’t think much of the injury, but from the perspective of the people of the Arcana Kingdom, it would be a major incident. The Sepaeda family, in particular, would be shocked and grieve deeply.

If readers think along those lines and find themselves similarly emotional while reading, that would be the greatest reward for an author.

Lastly... Shiso, Kuroda. My humble work is finally nearing its end. I would be honored if you would stay with me until the very end.

- Rokurou Akashi