Chapter 72 : Chapter 72
Chapter 72: Mausoleum of the Sword Masters (2)
“People get corrupted, and they change.”
Why? Suddenly, my childhood came to mind.
It was a story from my past life. The orphanage. I had once hit a friend who had hit another friend. That was why the nun scolded me.
I don't remember the content of the sermon. Only the scene comes to mind. A child being scolded usually lets the words flow past them and thinks of other things.
“Originally, you would smile brightly upon seeing a sword and welcomed sparring, but you disliked duels… It was the opposite of what I saw during the Doom War.”
I was adopted into Mectera in the late summer of my ninth year.
Around the time the wind began to carry a chill. Medeoban personally visited the orphanage run by a branch of Ruo.
As always, it was to select talented individuals and find a candidate to become his adopted son.
“In your childhood, Young Master Exa, you were purer than anyone.”
It was a moment when the eyes of the orphanage children and nuns all turned to one place.
In a way, it was a natural course of events for Medeoban to notice Exa, who was the strongest and sturdiest among his peers.
“At the same time, you were a peerless genius. Knowing ten things after seeing one. You were the epitome of that cliché.”
Medeoban’s test was conducted on the spot. What was it again? Right. He handed me a sword and showed me a demonstration. Telling me to follow along. It was an easy task for Exa.
“When I first saw you, I was half in doubt. It’s disrespectful, but I must have been. Back then, didn’t you look like you would grow up to be a pretty boy?”
Holding Medeoban’s hand, I headed to Mectera.
They were crazy about swords, but they were a ducal house. The registration of the adopted son was completed in an instant. I saw a facility with a constant supply of hot water for the first time, and I felt the touch of silk for the first time.
“However, I believe I personally atoned for that disrespect. I wanted to witness the Young Master's growth up close, so I resigned from my position as the 1st Head of the Sword.”
I grew up without lacking anything.
The swordsmen I faced when I held a sword all had the same expression. A talent that would capture the heart of any swordsman was something Exa possessed.
The 1st Head of the Sword at the time, Aran Lubeil, was one of those common swordsmen.
However, he was far too bold for that, and within a month of Exa becoming an adopted son, he volunteered to be his guard.
“Even that fastidious Head of the Senate of Elders cherished the Young Master. He would often neglect his duties.”
If expectations for a child were proof of love, I could say I received plenty of that too.
Medeoban Mectera went as far as to delegate his duties to teach Exa. It was only for a year.
“…Magic. If it weren't for that. If the Head of the Senate of Elders hadn’t given up, Gerehk Mectera would not have become the Sword Master.”
Ten years old. The flaw was discovered in the spring of that year.
After a year of training my body, when I finally attempted Mectera’s cultivation.
No matter how many days and nights I sat and concentrated, Exa could not perceive mana.
Let alone harbor magic, I couldn't even tell if mana existed in the world. I had only inferred it by seeing others’ magic.
“At the time, I had nothing to say either. I thought there was no way.”
Just as Aran and all the other swordsmen had, Medeoban too was captivated by Exa. He truly did everything he could.
The Imperial Family, Basor, the Sage's Castle, the Pope's Castle of Ruo, forbidden Aitentels, the Black Land, every auction house and black market on the continent. He went to every place with a possible cure and tried to obtain everything he could.
“But it existed, didn't it? It existed. The Head of the Senate of Elders gave up, saying he had done everything, but it existed. The Star-Breaking Style, the Young Master’s teacher. If he hadn’t given up, he would have found it someday.”
I was expelled at seventeen. For the seven years until then. Gerehk, who had been living with his maternal family, returned, and my position became increasingly narrow.
The veteran Heads of the Sword still kept an eye on Exa, but that was it. A sword and a Strong Body without magic were insignificant.
“If so, the Young Master would not have changed. You would not have become like this.”
Medeoban was the first to give up. The Heads of the Sword I was close to distanced themselves one by one, and only Aran remained by my side.
The reason those seven years weren't so painful was partly because I liked the sword, but honestly, it might have been because Aran was by my side.
“I should have followed you. I don’t know how many times I’ve regretted it.”
When I was expelled and left Mectera.
After returning Helda and giving up the title of General Head of the Sword, which was given in case of an emergency, Aran had run all the way to the castle gates.
“When the Young Master was being kicked out, I should have stayed by your side. I should have cut down the Mectera who tried to stop me and pushed them away.”
He was stopped by the guards, pushed away the persuading Heads of the Sword who had chased him with force, and was then forcibly taken away by Medeoban.
“If I had.”
Simurtr looked at Aran.
The Helda touching his neck was trembling. The flowing tears were awkward. The Aran Simurtr remembered was an iron man. An unshakeable giant tree.
“…Why have you become so pathetic?”
The giant tree dropped its sword.
***
Simurtr looked at Aran.
His eyes were filled with conviction. Fearing he might become a mirage that would disappear upon touch, his mouth did not speak recklessly.
The Helda rolling on the ground indicated that Aran had forgotten his intention to die.
“…You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
My past life had been discovered.
But that wasn't a big problem. There was already a precedent with Semenu, and Aran could join in too.
…If Gerehk Mectera had not died, I would have done so.
“It’s not me.”
Aran knew the truth.
I didn't know the extent of the truth he knew, but it was clear he was aware that Exa had been killed by an ally. He knew of Gerehk’s betrayal and had killed him.
‘No.’
That's why it couldn't be.
Aran knew, and he had already snatched and eaten Simurtr’s prey, Gerehk. He shouldn't have.
Semenu was also involved, but she would have stopped at just concealing the cause of death of the body.
Revenge. I wished Semenu wasn't involved in that process. The other unit members too, and that category naturally included Aran Lubeil and my master.
The fact that I didn't want to be a burden played a big part, but it wasn't that there was no other reason. To be honest… it was scary.
The Black Tower came to mind. Deban and Kua. That thirst for revenge.
But Deban had yielded a part of Kua to Simurtr. He knew his own weakness and shared. He did not handle everything with his own hands.
‘I hate it.’
Simurtr could not understand that.
Why? I could respect it. But if I put myself in his shoes, it was a conclusion Simurtr would not have chosen. I didn't want to do that.
Revenge. I didn't want to share my prey with others. Weak? Then I just had to wait until I became strong. I had already lived like that for 16 years.
‘I’ve already lost one.’
It gets taken away.
It was different from when Semenu found out. A sense of alarm rose. It wasn't vague. It was an anxiety that swelled based on precedent.
…Gerehk, whom I should have killed with my own hands someday, had already been killed by Aran.
‘If I reveal my past life. Aran will definitely try to help. Because he knows the truth.’
Revenge. Was there any guarantee that I wouldn't lose another in the process? There wasn't. Simurtr was weak. I couldn't control a rampaging Aran right now.
Even if he listened well, I couldn't guarantee his words and actions at a crucial moment.
The Aran Simurtr remembered was a guard who did the impossible for him and would use his own life as a shield in a pinch.
“I am Simurtr Mectera.”
I don't want to be a burden.
I don't want to lose any more targets of my revenge.
Desires that were hard to reconcile intertwined. They produced the same answer. Simurtr denied his past life. He wanted to exclude Aran.
“…The Young Master has changed. It must be because you left Mectera, experienced the world of mercenaries, met your master, and were with Baperr on the battlefield.”
And on top of that, I was even reincarnated.
The young Exa that Aran knew was gone. Traces of him could be found, but he had become a different person.
“When I saw the Young Master again on the battlefield, you were very unfamiliar. You were enthusiastic about battle and craved enemies and blood. Whenever you encountered a strong person, your lips would curl up to your ears.”
Aran truly disliked that change.
“I dare to surmise, and am certain, that the decisive reason for that is Baperr.”
Baperr. All of them strange, with something missing in each of them.
Aran found it difficult to deal with Exa, who had been corrupted and changed due to his association with them.
“But.”
Nevertheless, the Young Master was the Young Master.
“No matter how stimulating an environment you are exposed to, there are things that do not change.”
“You’re talking about someone else. Are you going to keep going?”
“Habits. They can be newly formed or altered easily, but their original form ultimately remains.”
“……”
“It’s not a good thing. It could become a routine, but as long as there is a possibility of it becoming a flaw, it would be better without it. Even if it’s something so trivial that you yourself don’t recognize it, it will surely become fatal someday.”
Aran did not want Simurtr's answer.
“Meram rubs her thumb when she performs magic. If you are aware of it, you could block it beforehand even before she operates her magic.”
Those who hide are bound to be sensitive.
They only resort to denial. The shell is the task of the one holding the knife. Carefully peeling it off is the job of the one who wants to uncover.
“My adjutant, Naor, presses the hilt once before drawing his sword. If you induce a fight before he can perform that habit, he wavers. He’s the type who needs to grasp all the elements like his disposition to feel at ease.”
…I knew. Whenever we started a spar, Naor would make that motion.
It was an act to gauge the condition of the scabbard. In combat, the scabbard had various uses.
“The Head of the Senate of Elders always scans his surroundings before a battle. He trusts his eyes more than his senses. The ways to deceive one’s senses are surprisingly diverse, a habit that comes from experience. A means that deceives both the eyes and senses together, like Degrate’s Phantasmal Ability, would be effective.”
That was correct.
Medeoban’s eyes never stayed fixed for even a moment. He was always moving his eyes, anytime, anywhere.
“The 38th Sword Master, Orde, pretends to be weak. So perfectly that he even deceives the eyes of his father, the Head of the Senate of Elders. Whenever he does or decides
something, he looks around. To see if there is family watching or not. He is a swordsman who only displays his true skill when there is no one.”
Such an Orde revealed his true skill in Serepes. It was because his son, Simurtr, was in danger.
“If you hold his family hostage, there is no Sword Master easier to deal with than the Sword Master.”
“Do they know? The people involved? Did you tell them?”
Aran.
He had grasped the characteristics and weaknesses of all his allies.
“I have not.”
“Why?”
“You never know, do you? The possibility that they could all become enemies exists.”
Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine.
From the moment he killed Gerehk, who had participated in the betrayal. No, perhaps even before that.
Aran had already made up his mind to turn Mectera into an enemy.
“Also. Just like now. The Young Master frowns often. I kept telling you not to, but in the end, a wrinkle formed on that handsome face of yours. Soon, a scar will form on your current face too.”
Gerehk’s death was a divergence from that decision.
It was revenge for Exa, and he was defining a Mectera without Gerehk as a potential enemy.
“Most people express their emotions that way.”
Still, I disliked it. Simurtr had no intention of agreeing with everything Aran said. Losing Gerehk was enough.
“In your lifetime, I have never seen anyone as crazy about the sword as the Young Master.
To the point of becoming a fool, unable to distinguish right from wrong in that regard. On the battlefield, you were the type to save a boy soldier holding a sword before that useful magic-user.”
“So?”
He already had his conviction, yet he was being long-winded. Simurtr thought, sensing Aran's habit of speaking.
“You have been greatly corrupted and changed, but when it comes to the sword, you are the same. The Young Master when facing a sword is the same as the Young Master in his childhood. That much has not changed.”
That conviction.
Simurtr found it very unsettling.
Why was he so obsessed? I just wanted to do my own thing quietly and live peacefully.
Semenu too. Why, why go to such lengths.
“Are you saying I’m Exa Mectera?”
“You must think I am Baperr. I dare to be so certain.”
“What if you’re wrong? It’d be very embarrassing. An old man of your age.”
A pointless rebelliousness arose.
I was afraid he would try to take more away. I didn't want to lose the traitors as emptily as I had lost Gerehk.
I didn't want Semenu or Aran to walk a difficult path again.
“That’s right. It would be an embarrassing affair.”
“What?”
“That is why I intend to die.”
The Helda on the ground floated up.
Aran grabbed it and once again brought it to his neck.
“The 6th Sword Order was founded to find the Young Master, who I believed was alive somewhere. I did not believe in the Young Master's death. I believed the fact that there was no body was proof of your survival.”
“Hey.”
“If my eyes were wrong, it would mean my role ends here. What more can I do with eyes that have gone blind? Even if I find the Young Master later, I would surely not recognize you.”
“Hey, hey.”
Simurtr’s voice became urgent.
Because Helda had begun to dig into Aran’s neck.
At this rate. With Helda’s sharpness, his neck would soon be severed.
“If my eyes have gone blind, if the person before me is not the Young Master, then I suppose I can go see you now.”
“…It’s me.”
Aran Lubeil is insane.
Simurtr finally understood Semenu’s words.
“I can’t hear you, Young Master.”
Aran smiled as he scraped his neck with Helda.
“It’s me. F*ck.”