The place where the Malidan Barrier once stood.
Though that towering barrier has vanished without a trace, the evidence of the people who once lived here still remains.
Only the signs of collapse and decay—carried by the frigid northern wind and the encroachnt of monsters—testify that the warriors of the North once made their stand here.
Roses blooming upon the footprints of their lives.
Roses that could never naturally blossom in the North now entwine the ground. Rather than calling it beautiful, the first thought that cos to mind is how tainted it appears.
“What do you think?”
At the center of it all.
The man asks in a lighthearted tone, as though showing off a beautifully decorated room.
Yet his crimson eyes and faint smile instinctively stir up unease in anyone who looks at him.
They don’t want to approach him.
They don’t want to speak to him.
Even though they ca here, sword in hand, his re presence provokes weak-kneed hesitation.
“Hmm, no answer? How disappointing.”
Despite saying so, the man chuckles and rises from his seat.
At a mont when no one else can step forward, only the Grandmaster dismounts from her horse.
“You—are you of the Transcendent?”
“And you’re… a half-breed?”
A quick glance at the large saber.
Noting the black tail and ears, the man’s lips curl into a wide grin.
“Aha, so you’re Number 10.”
“……!”
The Grandmaster gives a sudden start. It was not out of fear or terror.
She had just barely stopped herself from dashing forward, sword swinging, out of sheer reflex.
“I heard one trainee managed to escape, and you match the description exactly. Well? Are you enjoying your little trip outside?”
“Don’t call it a ‘trip.’”
“Then what would you have call it? A prodigal child always returns in the end. Your journey may seem free, but in truth, it isn’t.”
“I severed ties with all of you long ago.”
“If you’d truly broken free, you wouldn’t need to struggle so hard to prove it. If you were truly free, you wouldn’t be standing here before now.”
The Grandmaster’s shoulders tremble slightly.
All at once, she can no longer hold herself back and places her hand on her great saber.
Grand Sword-Drawing*.
Her tail bristles upward, and her dark pupils lock onto the point beyond the roses.
The instant her great saber leaves its scabbard, it has already reached its target.
Claaaaang!
It was a flash too quick for the eye to follow.
Rose petals swirl like a violent gust, and swirling snow rises high as a pillar.
Amidst it all, no blood was spilled.
When the blizzard subsides, the scene that unfolds is nothing short of terrifying.
A crimson sothing flows over the man’s entire body. Though it resembles the aura of demonic energy, it is different from what Isaac or the Sword Saint handle.
If Helmut’s aura is called red steel,
Then what this man wields would be the Transcendent race’s version of red steel.
That’s the most fitting way to describe it.
His crimson aura enshrouds a massive sword-shaped weapon.
“You bastard…”
The Grandmaster bites down on her lip.
In an effort to calm her, Isaac hurriedly steps forward.
“Grandmaster.”
“Isaac, stand back.”
“Please, calm down. You’re not fighting alone.”
Ironically, no one here is unaware of just how dangerous he is; everyone understands the might of Helmut.
“Isaac…?”
The man, on the other hand, grows intrigued upon hearing Isaac’s na.
“Aha, so it’s you, then—the one who killed my child. Quite a pity. If only that child’s subjugation had progressed further, everything would have gone smoothly.”
“…Your child?”
Isaac, who was about to say sothing, finds himself repeating the man’s words in confusion.
The “my child” he refers to must be—
“Arandel Helmut. You know him, don’t you?”
The man shrugs, as if wondering whether there’s any need to spell it out.
“So if that’s what you’re saying now—”
“What is there to ask? Did you truly think Helmut was a pure-blooded human line? Did you genuinely believe that?”
With a scornful laugh, he leans all the more convincing.
After all, the astounding prowess of Helmut doesn’t seem the least bit strange if he wasn’t fully human.
No one, including Isaac, can refute his words.
“Well, old history is dull anyway, so let’s skip the details.”
Wearing a sly grin, the man draws in his crimson aura.
The cross-shaped weapon slung over his shoulder is essentially a staff—the sort one might expect a pope to carry.
“You must want to find the Malidan Barrier. You ca all the way here to bring back the people who once resided there, didn’t you?”
In the hush that follows, he smiles as though performing a monologue all by himself.
“Unfortunately, it’s impossible.”
“What?”
“Rituals demand a price. We paid that price to remove the Malidan Barrier. There’s no way to bring it back now, is there?”
Impossible?
“So it’s all in vain. I rely wanted to inform you. I desire, personally, to beco your despair.”
Smiling broadly, he places a hand over his heart and bows.
They wanted to believe he was lying.
So even cried from behind that they didn’t believe it. Yet—
‘That’s the nature of rituals.’
Isaac already knows he isn’t lying.
The sa goes for the subjugation chain—the chain of absolute obedience that can never be broken.
‘They moved that massive Malidan Barrier. Is it really possible to just return it to the way it was?’
At least among the forms of magic he knows, it doesn’t work that way.
Rituals demand a sacrifice, then exacts a price in return.
Amid the icy northern winds, Silverna’s voice still resonates in his ears.
[If I had t you sooner, surely my family wouldn’t have been wiped out so aninglessly.]
Those words, that’s why he ca here.
[Silverna.]
[The original na I discarded for my family’s sake.]
[Silverna Caldias.]
[That’s my real na, Isaac.]
To protect her na.
He resolved the Grand Den early on, gave enlightennt, and created the circumstances to dispatch reinforcents.
Yet this ti, he even lost Silverna.
Is that what this ans?
‘If it was going to end up like this…’
What is the aning of returning to the past if, even after achieving revenge, he loses those who are precious to him one by one?
It seems as though things are getting resolved, but the true obstacle standing before him is an insurmountable wall.
And that wall is growing thicker by the mont.
“Ah, ti’s up, is it?”
Around the man, the space distorts strangely.
A groan cos from behind.
No one here is ignorant of what this phenonon signifies.
A flood of the Transcendents descends.
At a glance, there must be more than thirty of them.
“Ah…”
“T-This is insane—”
“T-Transcendents in such numbers…?”
Among the group, confusion rises. They’re already terrified of the man standing before them, and now there are hordes of the Transcendents appearing as well.
Each of them bristles with hostile intent, as though they might rush in at any mont and ravage the entire left flank.
“Hmm, the numbers are a bit disappointing. Is that all?”
The man himself only smacks his lips, sounding regretful.
Despair piled upon despair.
They had co here to save the Malidan Barrier, only to discover it was actually a trap laid by the Transcendents to devour them—
“Draw your swords.”
The voice of the Grandmaster pierces through, sharp like a blade itself, slicing apart the cloying terror with elegant precision.
She steps forward and glances briefly at Isaac.
“Do you believe in fate?”
“…Grandmaster?”
“I do not.”
Isaac also feels the sa whenever talk of fate arises—
Skeptical.
“Hence, I do not see your return to the past as fate.”
“…….”
“Whoever was involved in your return surely believed you would overco everything.”
That must be why they sent you.
“It’s not that you mustn’t break. It’s that you cannot be allowed to break.”
Slowly stepping forward, she grips the scabbard tightly and declares calmly:
“Isaac Logan. Accept my teaching.”
“Master…?”
The Grandmaster’s tail settles at ease. Her eyes swirl with a frost-like moonlight—
Icy, razor-edged eyes.
“I entrust everything to you.”
Suddenly, fear strikes Isaac.
He has seen this look of the Grandmaster once before—
In his previous life, it was her final mont.
“Grandmaster, wait!”
“Don’t interrupt. Ti is short.”
With a subtle smile, she confesses her true feelings.
“Do you know why I have always held you in such high regard?”
“W-What do you an…?”
“In your past life or in this one, I’ve cherished you because I believe you will reach my dream.”
Her dream?
In his previous life, the Grandmaster never spoke of her past.
In this life as well, she has only ever ntioned her fellow disciples, nothing more.
She has never once revealed her own true goal.
Even though she remained largely uninvolved in the war, she still took on disciples.
“I wanted to see humanity rise magnificently above them.”
A dream impossible for soone of mixed blood.
Yet the Grandmaster utters it anyway and, without waiting for Isaac to respond, leaps forward.
“Since I have no true na and am called ‘Master,’”
She brandishes her large saber.
“I am content to disappear naless into oblivion—!”
Her strike aid at the cluster of the Transcendents cuts through the air with bold montum, seemingly intent on cleaving them in two.
Grand Sword-Drawing*.
But another massive saber intercepts the Grandmaster’s attack.
Its arc and swordplay are eerily familiar.
Two identical blades clash in perfect sync—
CAAAAAANG!
“Number Ten, you’re still trying to look so gallant, I see.”
The woman who stands against her wears a wide-brimd bamboo hat. Because of the downward tilt of her head, her face is unclear, but—
From her voice alone, the Grandmaster recognizes exactly who she is.
“…Number Two?”
After exchanging blows with similar techniques, their blades separate.
She had been ready to embrace death, hoping that her disciple would beco the splendid swordsman who could fulfill her dream.
“Ti truly is a sweet thing, isn’t it?”
Yet perhaps because she does not believe in fate—
“Even eting an old friend under these circumstances feels almost joyous.”
Fate has forced its cruelty upon her once again.
– – The End of The Chapter ––
[TL: Grand Sword-Drawing: Sword-Drawing here was actually ‘Iai’, which refers to the art of drawing a sword and cutting in a single, fluid motion.
Btw, this is becoming an epic day by day. Whaaaaa!!
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