Chapter 103 : Chapter 103
Chapter 103. 1 Year (3)
The Selection Ceremony is.
Not difficult. Most are retakers. The losers of last year. But it’s not exactly easy either. Veden mocked himself while walking the single path.
‘Long way to go.’
He feels the distance with Simurtr keenly anew.
Last year’s Simurtr destroyed the Black Tower. But this year’s Veden had to focus just to beat the participants.
‘If it were Simyun, he could do it with his eyes closed.’
In last year’s Selection Ceremony.
What Simurtr faced wasn’t participants. It was the formal swordsmen of the 3rd Sword Order. It was his grandfather, the Head of the Senate of Elders.
That fact is bitter. It’s not like I just played around either.
‘Did Simyun come?’
Veden looked up at the void.
From outside, one can see every moment of the Selection Ceremony. Did he come? Veden hoped so.
Not just the immediate Selection Ceremony, but he wished Simyun would watch the process of him becoming the Sword Master…….
“Hey.”
The corners of Veden’s mouth curl up.
Simurtr was at the end of the single path.
***
“How was Bahab?”
“Hmm. Satisfying?”
“Can you show me?”
“No. Later. There are many eyes watching here.”
One-sided.
No, is it worthy to be called that? Veden thought while looking at Simurtr who lowered his sword.
“I heard you beat Ael?”
“Originally, my talent was superior.”
“Seems so.”
“I’ll surpass Jahar soon too.”
“Jahar will like it if he hears that?”
“He did like it.”
Simurtr.
Does not attack. If Veden swings the sword, he just blocks. He doesn’t deflect even though he can. He doesn’t counterattack.
…He is waiting until this side gets tired, until satisfied.
‘Wall…….’
Mectera is a wall?
Veden let out a scoff. Then what is Simurtr in front of my eyes?
“Sword Master, you said you won’t do it.”
If that isn’t a wall, what can be a wall? Swinging the sword again only brings vague feelings. Even facing Kelken wasn't like this.
‘He became stronger than last year. Just as I grew, Simyun grew too. It’s natural. I did it, so there’s no way he didn’t.’
Occasionally, Simurtr blocks an attack and swings his sword.
It’s not something to call a counterattack. It stops before reaching Veden. Simurtr was teaching.
“Not doing it.”
“I heard from Ael.”
I can’t understand Grandfather Medeoban’s insides.
If that isn’t Sword Master material, then who on earth can be the Sword Master?
He hopes his bloodline becomes the Sword Master. Surely he isn't hoping for such an appearance from Jahar?
Regrettably, Jahar cannot become Simurtr even if he dedicates his whole life.
“Haha.”
“Is it that good?”
“No. Because I hate it.”
Veden laughed inadvertently.
Isn’t it no different from himself sometime ago? The execution room must be opened once more.
“It’s also true I don’t want to do it.”
“Really?”
“Of course. If I wanted to be the Sword Master, who could stop me? You? Or Jahar? Ael?”
“This. Everyone must be watching.”
“That’s why I’m saying it. Since I have no thoughts. If I had thoughts, I would have waited quietly until I became stronger than Grandfather, Father, or the Heads of the Sword.”
“How long do you think it would take?”
“Not many years left.”
“…….”
It’s clearly an absurd statement.
It’s arrogant, but when Simurtr says it, it sounds natural.
“Why don’t you want to do it?”
“Well. Curious?”
“Yeah.”
“Later. Not yet. I’ll tell you later.”
It was the last attack.
Veden sensed it. This also fails.
“I’ll make sure to tell you quickly.”
“If you want to do that, come out of the hut first. Kelken will be satisfied now too.”
“…Okay.”
Veden, whose strength was exhausted, dropped his sword.
***
“Tha…… Th-th-that! Ignoring me when I spoke.”
Ael, who was watching the fight, pointed a finger at the screen.
The hut on the Sacred Mountain. Whenever the siblings visited Veden, they lived with the words that it was enough, let’s go down now. Veden didn’t listen to even a bit of it.
“How good we were to him.”
Yet it was stubbornness resolved by a single word from Simurtr.
“Correct words. My younger brother even lost on purpose.”
Ael kicked Jahar’s solar plexus and looked at the hole generated in the void. An entrance connected to the Phantasmal Realm. It means the Selection Ceremony is over.
“Good to see.”
Watching Simurtr and Veden coming out together, Jahar smiled happily.
Growing ambition over the Sword Master seat together, helping each other up when they fall. Competition and brotherly love were what Jahar used to dream of.
“Oppa thinks that is possible?”
“Nothing impossible about it.”
“There is no such history in the main family. Father’s generation was peculiar. You know. How it was during Grandfather’s time.”
Medeoban, born as a sole heir, faced ten adopted children alone.
Fairness? Medeoban would scoff if he heard. The adopted children at the time joined hands to attack Medeoban.
“But eventually he became the Sword Master.”
“That’s not what’s important. There is no beautiful brotherly love Oppa imagines in the successor competition.”
Jahar and Ael are close siblings.
The siblings cherish the third, Veden, too, though not as much as each other.
It is an emotion that exists because this generation hasn’t undergone the Coming of Age Ceremony yet. Because the full-scale competition hasn’t started.
“No one knows what will happen after the Coming of Age Ceremony.”
They don’t think they’ll kill each other.
I shouldn’t kill. Jahar, and Veden too. They are probably thinking that.
Ael thinks so too, and can be confident. At least until now.
“It’s fortunate just being pushed to a branch family or becoming a Head of the Sword. You could die.”
But in the future?
Just as Jahar said sometime ago, Ael changed. Veden became like that too.
There is no guarantee such change won’t happen again in the future. There’s no telling how they might turn.
“Bluntly speaking, Oppa might suddenly go crazy and kill everyone. Even if not Oppa, Veden or I.”
“Well.”
Despite Ael’s scary words, Jahar doesn’t lose his smile.
The Selection Ceremony is in the final stage now. Veden lined up in front of Medeoban and Orde along with the participants.
“Simyun won’t let that happen.”
Jahar is looking at the approaching Simurtr.
“What?”
Simurtr, hearing Jahar’s words, tilted his head.
“Simyun. I thought about you beating us until just before we die.”
“Me? Why you guys?”
“It’s a problem. Why would I?”
“What did I hit with. Sword? Or hand?”
“With a sword.”
“You guys were in the wrong.”
“If with bare hands?”
“Then well, you guys must have been in the wrong.”
“Correct.”
Certainly.
Even non-existent madness would be cured.
Ael kept her mouth shut tight.
***
Harkinwagen.
The gimlet of the Empire Melken. The southern Margraviate.
That territory targets the Black Land. If one climbs the rampart and looks at the wide-open view, the entrance of the Black Land is visible intact.
A scenery allowed only to superhumans. Homer Harkinwagen is one of the Sword Masters who can contain such a view.
“Has it already been 3 years?”
“This Head of the Sword is surprised too. Time is helpless even though I did nothing after coming here.”
Another superhuman capable of containing the view, easily surpassing Homer Harkinwagen.
When one mentions Mectera, the world thinks of the Sword Master first.
And the 1st Sword Order.
If the Sword Master is the symbol of Mectera, the 1st Sword Order is like the essence of Mectera. The greatest potential of the Sacred Place of the Sword is contained within it.
‘The Sword Order with the fewest swordsmen.’
While other Sword Orders embrace dozens of swordsmen, the 6th Sword Order maintains a number barely over twenty.
And the 1st Sword Order has merely eleven people, including the Head of the Sword.
“Isn’t that so. I caused a nuisance to the main family’s name. I should have finished organizing at least one district of the Black Land. The main family must have dispatched this Sword Order hoping for that.”
Just 10 people, but they are outstanding swordsmen next to the Heads of the Sword. The leader, the 1st Head of the Sword, surpassed the 6th Head of the Sword, Aran Lubeil.
Although his prime is over and he is at a declining age, even that Aran Lubeil.
Homer vividly remembers Aran of the battlefield. Even then it wasn’t his prime, but anyway.
‘He was a person stronger than the Sword Master.’
Gerehk Mectera was a shameful person.
He couldn’t defeat Aran Lubeil who passed his prime, and ascended to Sword Master on the back of Medeoban’s favoritism.
If one asks an ignorant person to pick the Sword Master on Mectera’s battlefield, nine out of ten would point to Aran Lubeil.
Aran on the battlefield possessed that level of martial power.
‘The successor of such Aran-nim.’
Son of the former 1st Head of the Sword and disciple of Aran Lubeil.
A strong person whom not only Aran, but even Mectera’s Sword Master cannot guarantee victory against.
“If you say that, what does Harkinwagen become.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to demean Harkinwagen. It might have sounded like that. I just meant this Sword Order was unworthy of the main family’s name.”
There is no malice in the man.
Conversation flowed reasonably well too. It was like that since he was dispatched.
“I know. But those who don’t know will misunderstand you for no reason.”
Even without such intention, it ends up like that.
Bahel Batra.
Sometimes intentions are distorted because he is the 1st Head of the Sword. Born as the son of the former 1st Head of the Sword and raised as a disciple of the giant tree Aran.
The formed values became identical to Mectera’s. The pride of being in charge of Mectera’s vanguard is established.
“And. Wasn’t it unavoidable? The Imperial Family blocked it directly.”
“They did. Though this Head of the Sword cannot understand.”
On the first day dispatched to Harkinwagen.
Bahel tried to march into the Black Land leading the Sword Order. He aimed at the Black Land with merely 11 people. Such power existed in the 1st Sword Order.
The Imperial Family blocked that. The Information Bureau delivered such an imperial order.
“20 years have passed, but His Majesty is still looking down only on the Empire. It would be fine to turn eyes to the outside soon.”
Bahel finds it hard to accept that.
He was dispatched, but the reality of being unable to do anything felt like smearing mud on Mectera’s name.
“Nothing you say. If the Black Land heard, they would strike our castle gate right away.”
“Just what this Sword Order hoped for.”
Homer laughed in disbelief.
While locking up the envoy who brought the imperial order in the underground saying he was suspicious, and half-annihilating the nearest Black Land 1st District in the meantime.
He came back covered in blood and released the envoy. After checking the imperial order, he acted shamelessly saying he wouldn’t do so from now on.
It was possible because it was an envoy of the Information Bureau, and Mectera had deep ties with the Information Bureau. Bahel and Homer knew the content of the imperial order in advance.
“Is the return date set?”
“It is this weekend.”
“Fast.”
“It is appropriate. Since there are few people, there isn’t much to prepare.”
“You haven’t been to Mectera for the past 3 years, right?”
“Correct. I participated in the Grand Council but it was remote.”
“Grand Council? Ah. You mean Degrate.”
Homer nodded.
He remembers. The campaign towards Degrate. The incident caused by Simurtr Mectera being attacked by a Phantasm user in Huit.
“He was innocent. The 6th Head of the Sword stepped forward personally.”
“He didn’t need to go personally. It would have been fine if this Head of the Sword went.”
“He felt a sense of responsibility. And if you went, the situation wouldn’t have ended peacefully.”
“No. The evidence was proper. Nothing would have changed even if this Head of the Sword went.”
No. Homer thought inwardly.
Aran treats Simurtr as the Young Master. He probably responded moderately because he went with that Young Master.
If it were Bahel, he would have drawn his sword before even talking. He might start by killing a few.
“Then it must be the first time for that Young Master too.”
“Him?”
“Didn’t a person whom Aran-nim calls Young Master appear.”
“Ah. Aah. I remember. He said such words at the Grand Council.”
I was surprised. Bahel said.
Grand Council. Back then, Aran referred to the fourth child and adopted son as Young Master. A title he didn’t attach to direct descendants, but only to Exa Mectera.
“Did he say Simurtr-nim? I have no choice but to remember. He is a material not lacking as the next Head of the Sword.”
It is not just because of Aran that Bahel remembers.
That adopted son, only 17 years old, is already complete. He ascended to the stage of Sword Master.
Different from current direct descendants and any other generation. All Heads of the Sword were drooling.
“If I have time after returning, I intend to visit him personally. Since he is the 6th Head of the Sword’s Young Master.”
“You won’t regret it. Aran-nim didn’t call him that for no reason.”
“Strangely, you seem to know better. Even though the one belonging to Mectera is this Head of the Sword.”
“Didn’t I tell you last year? I saw him at Bahab’s Hella.”
“Hella? At that ridiculous place?”
No. Bahab in the first place?
A gemstone that should still be growing in the main family?
“Did I not say? He was there as a guest in Bahab. Ah. Come to think of it, that life must have ended too. He said he’d stay only for 1 year.”
“Why? No, that’s possible. To raise his horizon. I don’t know if Bahab will be helpful, but it’s not a bad choice.”
A genius cannot share the same track with ordinary people. He must receive higher education and make rapid progress.
Simurtr Mectera is doing so.
I like it. As talent is different, the view is also higher than ordinary people. It was clear he knew what he needed right now.
“I’m starting to look forward to the weekend. I want to meet him quickly.”
“He will definitely fit your heart perfectly.”
He has no choice. Homer was certain.
Who could hate the new star who killed a Baron-rank Doom Species in one blow? Of course, that fact isn’t known to the outside, but anyway.
“The direct descendants must be feeling a sense of deprivation.”
Bahel spoke inadvertently.
“Why?”
“It is natural. If the talent is such, and there is no proper defect, competition is meaningless.”
Bahel felt pity recalling the direct descendants of the main family.
“Though it can’t be helped.”
But the arm doesn’t bend inward.
No, this is bending inward. To Bahel, Mectera is not bloodline.
Solely the sword. The name of Mectera is a position to be achieved by the sword. A swordsman of Mectera doesn’t place meaning on bloodline.
“Ah. That will be fine. I heard many things.”
Homer said while laughing.
“I heard he declared he wouldn’t become the Sword Master.”
Not heard directly, nor from Aran.
Degrate’s crow is strangely strict about information regarding Simurtr.
…But Homer knew many things about Simurtr.
“Who?”
“That Young Master.”
“Simurtr Mectera?”
“Right. It is certain information.”
Everything is Bahab’s intelligence power.
The tie formed in Hella made it possible to feel that intelligence power, even indirectly.
Homer is exchanging letters steadily with Haryun Bahab. The topic of Simurtr made that consistency possible.
“He won’t become the Sword Master? Why?”
Then what about that talent?
“Well. That’s up to him, isn’t it. Ah. I heard Mectera hoped for that too. That’s why he could remain as an adopted son.”
“What?”
“I heard they care about bloodline now.”
“Mectera?”
Bahel’s eyes opened wide.