Chapter 29: Preparation (4)

The unsettling stares fell on me, filled with envy and resentment.

I felt a prickling heat on the back of my neck from the sharp gazes of the cadets, accompanied by their sarcastic murmurs.

I shifted my gaze to Siegfried. His expression didn’t reveal a single flicker, as if he were analyzing every one of my movements with the precision of a honed blade.

He gripped the hilt of his sword with a controlled strength that suggested he was facing a worthy opponent.

Cling!

The sound of his sword rang out, as clear as morning dew.

A murmur of awe swept through the training grounds.

The students holding their own swords looked back and forth between their weapons and Siegfried’s, while others from different classes opened their eyes wide in amazement.

Though it seemed like an ordinary iron sword, in his hands it gleamed with the aura of a relic.

I blinked, opening and closing my eyes. I was standing face to face with a sword master.

The atmosphere had grown thick, and the air seemed to flow strangely, almost as if it were moving in a different direction. His stance, the precise angle of his sword pointed toward me—everything was perfect.

The chaos, which even Instructor Lee Won-Bin’s reprimands couldn’t subdue, had fallen silent. Everyone, including me, took a deep breath, staring at the Sword Emperor as if he were a statue to be admired.

“Have your bones healed already, boy?”

Siegfried’s voice snapped me out of my trance.

“Yes… I’m fine.”

“Then take up your sword.”

I hesitated. Even if it were a sparring match, this didn’t seem right. It wasn’t because I’d just been discharged from the hospital. My body, fully rested, was in perfect condition.

Perhaps it was due to the Blessing of the Sword God, but my instincts were clamoring for battle.

Yet, despite the urge, my rational mind resisted.

Siegfried von Nibelung, the Sword Emperor, was right in front of me. I knew that in a duel with him, I wouldn’t escape unscathed.

At best, one of us would lose a hand; at worst, a head.

On top of that, too many eyes were fixed on us. Just thinking about the ripple effect this might cause made my temples ache.

I needed to refuse this somehow.

I bowed my head to Siegfried.

“I am unworthy of facing the Sword Emperor. Please, sheathe your sword.”

I heard muffled laughter from the cadets. Some muttered that they knew it, others said I was clearly scared.

They thought it was easy, those who could comment without being in my shoes.

Most of them would likely lose their composure with just one move, and I couldn’t help but glance at them in irritation.

I turned back to Siegfried’s expression.

His temples tightened as veins stood out, and his gaze, cold and sharp, glinted with a palpable threat.

It was clear he was displeased.

“Do you think you can hide your power forever? Where is your respect for your opponent? What good is talent if you act like a coward?”

His voice was low enough that only I could hear. He continued relentlessly.

“Do you have no pride as a swordsman?”

That comment made my cheek twitch. Siegfried clicked his tongue in disgust.

‘Pride.’

A word I had engraved in my heart since I had earned the title of the nation’s top swordsman. Those two syllables were the reason I never let go of the blade.

In the charged atmosphere, sweat poured down Instructor Lee Won-Bin’s forehead like a waterfall.

It seemed like he wanted to intervene, but with Siegfried as the opponent, he couldn’t bring himself to act and shifted his weight nervously.

On the other hand, Siegfried watched me, clearly determined not to back down.

I knew every one of his words was a calculated provocation, meant to test my reaction and gauge my skills.

If I took the bait, I would surely regret it later.

I clenched and unclenched my hand, feeling the veins swell in my arm.

All eyes were on me, full of expectation. They seemed to want me to back down, eagerly anticipating my retreat.

That thought stirred something within me.

My hands moved on their own to my waist, where my fingers wrapped around the sword’s hilt, drawing it in a smooth motion.

Clang!

The attention zeroed in on me. It felt like everyone’s eyes had doubled in size upon seeing my reaction.

Instructor Lee tried to approach hastily, but Siegfried held him back.

“It seems you’ve made a decision.”

A slight smile appeared on his lips.

As if he had been waiting for my resolve, Siegfried raised his sword. His voice rang clear and solemn as he made a formal bow.

“Siegfried von Nibelung, Sword Emperor. I request a duel.”

I brushed the dust off the ground with my foot and took my stance. I slid the sword lightly through the air, letting the edge gleam.

[The Blessing of the God of the Sword manifests.]

“Kang Geom-Ma, first-year cadet. I’ll learn what I can.”

***

It was completely dark.

In the midst of an all-encompassing darkness, two men stood facing each other, gripping their swords.

Tap, tap.

Siegfried moved first.

His footsteps echoed lightly, as if he were stepping forward to greet an old friend.

He held his sword straight in his left hand, feeling the warm rush of blood in his chest—a fire long extinguished, now rekindled.

In the instant their swords clashed, age became an irrelevant detail.

The weight of his years seemed to vanish in the thrill of life he felt, and a faint smile crept onto his face. Siegfried recalled his youth, though now he was a man of seventy.

Clear as day, he remembered that moment in his early years when, training alone in the mountains, he encountered a wandering swordsman.

That man, who had given him a glimpse of “mastery through the sword,” was a one-armed, ragged figure whose skill touched the divine.

‘Enlightenment through the sword.’

Siegfried turned his attention back to his opponent.

Since the selection exam, he had been watching this boy, Kang Geom-Ma.

His body was still growing, like the first shoots of a young plant, yet his gaze held the experience of someone much older.

For an instant, Kang Geom-Ma’s image overlapped with that of the wandering swordsman.

Perhaps this young man was the key to taking him to an even higher level.

His heart pounded fiercely, his sword felt cool. For a warrior, that was more than enough. All he needed was a strong body and a sharp blade.

Facing Kang Geom-Ma, Siegfried set aside his title as Sword Master. He wanted to meet him simply as a warrior.

Tap, tap.

His steps were light, almost childlike, as he advanced with his sword poised, ready to strike. Siegfried’s sword flashed like lightning, seeking out Kang Geom-Ma’s blade.

Whoosh!

The blade sliced through empty air. Siegfried, unfazed, looked up and saw Kang Geom-Ma leaping into the air. A faint smile formed on Siegfried’s wrinkled lips.

If the boy hadn’t been able to pull something like that, he would’ve been disappointed.

Swoosh!

Siegfried’s sword rose in an upward arc, in a masterful move. Kang Geom-Ma met the elder’s attack head-on, without dodging.

Clang! Clang!

The clash of swords rang out, sharp and solid.

Siegfried felt his arm light and his sword’s momentum surging with force.

He had forgotten this was only a training match.

The silver trails their swords left were almost invisible to the human eye.

When Siegfried attacked, Kang Geom-Ma responded, and vice versa.

Kang Geom-Ma’s sashimi blade, swift and precise like a swallow, traced an impossible arc. Siegfried, with the wisdom ingrained in every joint of his bones, blocked each movement.

With each impact, sparks flew, briefly illuminating the space between them.

Siegfried’s blade carried the weight of a life dedicated to the sword, and talent at its peak.

Kang Geom-Ma’s blade seemed imbued with an almost supernatural skill, as if he were something more than human.

Though the exchange was brief, time felt artificially elongated in their deadly dance.

Even within that short span, only Kang Geom-Ma’s sword moved at a distinctly different, ever-increasing speed.

The speed of Kang Geom-Ma’s sword was noticeably faster by the second.

In less than a minute, the boy was advancing. When his sashimi blade drew an arc, a high-pitched sound echoed, as if space itself were being cut.

Siegfried found it almost comical, and instead of laughing, he held his breath.

‘He’s extraordinary.’

Siegfried, the Sword Emperor, grinned, showing his teeth like a child.

Once known as humanity’s strongest warrior, a title every man aspired to.

Very few had ever managed to withstand his sword, and they all eventually knelt before him, although that had been half a century ago.

During the battle to vanquish Basmon, the sixth commander of the Demon King’s army, three of his six companions had perished.

While the victory was theirs, the price was the lives of his comrades—a cost that felt unjustifiable.

Basmon, though the weakest of the six commanders, had still been absurdly powerful.

It had taken a week of continuous battle by the Seven, humanity’s strongest force, to defeat him.

Now, looking back, he realized how fortunate they’d been to win.

Though Siegfried was humanity’s mightiest warrior, he had been like an insignificant creature before the Demon King’s commanders.

Such was the disparity between demons and humans.

Since that day, Siegfried had begun training in the techniques of that wandering swordsman, carrying the weight of humanity’s hopes on his shoulders.

Finally, at seventy years old, Siegfried was on the brink of enlightenment.

Crunch.

Kang Geom-Ma, standing at a cautious distance, leaned forward, barely restraining the force that threatened to launch him at his opponent.

His posture resembled that of a predator about to pounce on its prey.

His eyes shone with a fierce, intense glint. He seemed to have decided to resolve the match in a single strike, gripping both swords and holding them in a reverse grip.

Siegfried gave a brief smile, and in response, tightened his grip on his sword.

He unleashed his Blessing.

The Blessing of the Sword Spirit.

A spiritual-level blessing that pushed a swordsman’s abilities to their peak, granting them absolute focus. It was a unique technique within the Nibelung family, one that only a select few had mastered in seven hundred years.

A bluish light began to envelop the sword, as if the blade were wreathed in a fierce, burning fire. Siegfried smiled as he shouted.

“Come, Kang Geom-Ma!”

At the sound of his powerful voice, Kang Geom-Ma hurled himself forward.

Boom!