Sword Devouring Swordmaster

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 146. Legend (3)

“Hmm.”

Atop a tree so tall it seemed to reach the heavens, Sherizik sat astride a branch, gazing down at Arhan’s relentless struggle. The distance was vast, yet her keen eyes saw everything clearly.

As she bit into a ripe fruit, savoring its tart juice, she murmured,

“Is he trying to ascend to the Azure Heaven?”

It had already been two months since Arhan began his climb through the Sky Mountains. After observing him for roughly sixty days, Sherizik had reached her conclusion—his goal was indeed the Azure Heaven.

A place dreamed of by every adventurer on the continent, a land that no one—save the Dragons—had ever set foot in. A sacred realm where countless myths and legends had been born.

A place said to connect to the heavens, the Land of Dragons, the cradle of the continent’s truths, where ancient relics and divine secrets slumbered.

So said the many tales—yet Sherizik knew the truth of Azure Heaven. Her father, Sherdik, the Orc Shaman once called the Guide of the Stars, had told her long ago of the mysteries hidden in the Sky Mountains.

Should I tell him?

She chewed slowly, pondering deeply.

There was no glory awaiting an adventurer in Azure Heaven— no enlightenment to satisfy scholars, no radiant brilliance to match the dreams and hopes of children.

Sherizik frowned as she watched the descendant of Steel climb that endless cliff. For two months, he had repeated the same act, again and again. Part of her wanted to shout at him—to stop this meaningless struggle and go back.

Especially when the world outside is already in chaos.

Indeed, the continent had fallen into turmoil over the past two months. Though she had secluded herself in the Sky Mountains to watch Arhan, Sherizik could tell that the world beyond was unstable.

She didn’t even need reports—she could see it through the eyes of a shaman.

The sky itself reeked of ill omens—dark and dreadful, worse than anything seen in the last century.

“Hmm…”

She stroked her chin. Even if she ignored the chaos outside, attempting to reach Azure Heaven with a mortal body was sheer folly. Knowing the truth made it seem even more foolish to her.

Arhan could never reach it. Humans could never stand where the sky’s rulers dwelled.

That place was reserved only for the masters of heaven—the Dragons.

So she wanted to tell him. To stop wasting his time. To turn back.

But…

‘Something inside me says I shouldn’t.’

Her warrior’s blood whispered that she must not interfere.

That the battle unfolding before her—this reckless mortal’s trial—was something sacred.

Because if he truly is a descendant of Steel…

Sherizik grinned faintly. At last, she began to understand the words her father once said:

“Watch over the descendant of Steel.”

“If I could, I’d guard him myself.”

“For the Karavans, nothing is impossible.”

Her mind still couldn’t grasp it fully—but Orcs were never creatures of reason. They understood through the heart—through boiling blood and pounding rhythm. And though she acted with the grace of a noble, Sherizik was still an Orc at heart.

“Beautiful Orc lady.”

A group of Monks approached her—each carrying a long staff, the sole weapon allowed to those who revered their bodies as their greatest arms.

“You’re heading out into the world, then?”

“Yes. I go where the Sun shines.”

“May the light guide you.”

Among them were no young novices—only those of proven strength. Seeing them, Sherizik understood at once how dire the situation beyond the mountains had become. Monks rarely left their temple except for sacred annual rites. If they were leaving now, the world must be in true peril. And among them was the Sun’s Great Warrior himself—Buddha.

“Lady Sherizik,” Buddha asked gently, “will you not join us?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering,

“I’d like to keep watching this… process.”

At her words, Buddha lifted his head and glanced in the direction she was looking. For an instant, his serene face curved into a smile.

Sherizik couldn’t tell if he had actually seen Arhan or not.

After a brief silence, Buddha said,

“That, too, holds great value.”

“…”

“After all, every trial under the Sun is eventually rewarded. Were the Sun not shining upon the world today, I too would wish to stay by his side.”

He smiled warmly.

“The moment a bird breaks free from its egg is always thrilling, is it not?”

“…”

“Soon, a bird shall hatch from its shell—one forged of blood, steel, and flame… a bird that will fly farther than any other.”

***

From the base to the mid-slope of the Sky Mountains— I searched, doubted, and searched again.

Was there a hidden path? A way I hadn’t seen? No.

The mountain before me was exactly as the old adventurer’s memories described it. His memories were flawless— they simply led only this far. To the middle heights.

Between the mid-slope and Azure Heaven, there was a wall.

A wall no human could cross.

Damn it.

With the adventurer’s memories, reaching the mid-slope had become almost easy. I’d grown used to its dangers. But there was one problem—The damned fog.

A pale mist. Once I crossed a certain point, it always appeared. When it came, the ground turned to swamp, and forward progress became impossible. I was like a lost child in a forest—disoriented, senses crippled.

Shit.

It was as if the heavens themselves were saying:

You are not permitted here. Turn back. Leave.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Through constant trial, I’d already mastered the mountain’s ecosystem. I could move unseen among the giant insects, feed on safe fruits, even read the signs of natural disasters through the reactions of nearby beasts. I had become a part of the ecosystem itself.

But the fog— that fog defied everything. It was as if it were the will of Heaven itself.

Like the fate those damned bards are always singing about.

Yes, fate. As though the world had decided I wasn’t meant to go further. And that enraged me.

The will of heaven, destiny, order, the balance of the world— all those excuses that made people accept injustice without protest.

It had been the same when I was fifteen. When everything was taken from me. Back then, Sancho and Nanny had said the same thing— that it was fate, that I should accept it as a disaster.

No.

I could not.

Who was Heaven to take everything from me?

What gave them that right, however mighty they were?

If the gods created all beings, must we accept everything they decree without question?

No. I would not.

Unjust, incomprehensible things— I could never accept them.

So now, my climb toward Azure Heaven was not merely to master 「Flight」. It had become the proof of my very existence.

Just as I once became a Great Warrior for Fetel, I could not retreat from this battle.

That event at fifteen had changed everything about me.

If I must break, then so be it. Better to shatter than to bend.

“...Haa.”

I lifted my head again. The mid-slope’s end loomed before me. And once more, the pale mist began to rise—Heaven’s way of driving me out.

But I would not yield.

If the mountain called me an intruder, then I would be an intruder— one that would never back down.

My senses… they’re fading.

Heaven rejects me? So what? My doubt—my defiance—was born from the very things Heaven took from me.

If they wish to reject me, then they should first return what they stole— or listen to my voice.

I’ll break through it, no matter what.

The ground turned to mud.

The mist wrapped around my skin, numbing my senses.

Sight vanished first. Then hearing warped—voices echoed.

“Master Arhan, please wake up.”

“Son, get up already. How long will you sleep?”

Sancho’s voice. My parents’ voices.

The ghosts of my past whispered from the fog.

I knew they were false, but they were hard to ignore. Then came pain—sharp, searing pain, as if my body were being flayed.

“Son, rest now. Don’t push yourself.”

“Dinner is ready, Master Arhan. It’s your favorite dish, for your fifteenth birthday.”

The stench of the swamp faded, replaced by warm, fragrant air— the aroma of home.

I nearly wept.

But I refused. Even blind and disoriented, I forced myself forward— tripping, crawling, clawing through the mire like an insect chasing the light.

If only I could move forward. If only I could go higher.

“...Haa.”

The mist surged again, twisting my senses.

I saw my old mansion—my parents, my neighbors. They smiled, welcoming me back.

“Stop now, son. It’s enough.”

The pain vanished.

The dream was warm—so real it made me doubt reality itself.

Could it be that this was truth, and all my suffering had been a nightmare?

“Stay here. You can rest now.”

It was happiness. Too much happiness.

If I let go and stayed in this dream— would I ever wake again?

“Ah.”

The sky above was the same as the one I’d been climbing toward.

The same sun.

The same air.

If all was the same, what separated dream from reality?

But my soul whispered— this was false.

My ever-doubting soul tore me from the sweet illusion.

Even so— I couldn’t push them away.

“Son, you look so tired. Rest. Stay here, and I’ll hold you forever.”

So—

“Mother.”

—I didn’t reject her.

“It’s alright.”

“…”

“When everything’s over, then… Please hold me. When it’s all done, hear my story, and give me a cookie, just like you used to. Then light a fire behind the mansion. Call everyone from the village.”

I accepted her.

“That’s enough. That’s all I want.”

And then—she vanished like smoke. The warmth turned to horror. Her body was pierced by swords, her head severed.

Everyone was dead. A storm of blades raged.

I was cut to pieces again and again— but it wasn’t real.

And if it wasn’t real— I had no reason to stop.

Break me. Crush me. I won’t bend.

I stepped forward. Again. And again.

My body burned. My skin peeled. Still, I pressed on— to prove myself.

“Ugh, aaah!”

The illusion shattered. Senses returned.

Swamp and fog remained.

An alligator lunged. I drew my sword— but my body felt unbearably heavy. Mana wouldn’t rise. I was the weak boy again.

Still, I fought.

“Ugh… ahh!”

I was a dullard. Even stripped of all I’d gained, my essence remained the same— the boy who dreamed of revenge against the Swordmaster behind his mansion.

“Uaaaaah—!”

I hurled a fruit at the alligator—its poisonous juice splattered into its eyes. It screamed, and I plunged my sword, hammering the hilt with my elbow until the blade pierced its skull.

Sticky blood spurted.

I staggered up, dragging my sword, and kept walking toward the light.

“Ugh… ah… aaah!”

Monsters of mud emerged—creatures of destruction fit only for the northern lands.

Impossible foes for my current body.

“Come on.”

They slammed into me—pain exploded.

I swung my sword—too slow, too weak.

But I didn’t stop.

There is no such thing as impossible.

Was killing a monster really harder than killing a Swordmaster within three years?

“Come! On!”

I refused to yield. I doubted everything. To prove that I was right, and the world was wrong.

That was my doubt. That was my life.

“Ugh—!”

A blow sent me flying. The monsters loomed closer. My heart pounded.

Maybe this was it. Maybe I’d die here—alone, unseen, forgotten.

But—

“Keuh, keh—!”

Even so, I couldn’t retreat. Even if it broke me.

And then—

『The last thing I remember was a burning mansion.』

A faint figure appeared before me— Mary, the swordswoman who wielded 「Needle」.

『To reclaim freedom, someone had to stain their hands with blood.』

Next came a man with disheveled hair— an assassin from the Free City of Crowley, the owner of 「Fang」.

『Not every boy can be the hero.』

『There is no paradise for those who flee.』

『My life was but a single gust of wind.』

…

…

『Ah, how blessed was the age when one could gaze upon the starry sky and still read the map of paths yet to come.』

Like drifting smoke, the souls of the swords I had consumed appeared one by one.

Not as blades—but as the people they once were.

They all stood, facing the sky— as if challenging someone unseen.

「Young descendant.」

My master’s voice resounded.

「Excellent.」

“…”

「To compromise with nothing. To protect what you’ve built, no matter what. Some call it stubbornness. Some, arrogance. Others—conviction.」

“…”

「Your own world.」

The fog began to clear.

The mud monsters vanished.

The swamp hardened beneath my feet.

The wounds on my body faded away.

「Crude, but you’ve done it.」

“…”

「That was the final key to mastering the legend, and…」

Beyond the lifting mist, a blue light spread. So bright it nearly blinded me.

The entire world turned blue—earth and sky alike.

Only one phrase echoed in my mind.

「It is your first step toward becoming a Sword Expert, young descendant.」

Azure Heaven.

As the souls of the swords looked skyward, I, too, lifted my eyes.

A clear, boundless sky stretched above— and from it came a voice.

「Last Karavan.」

The mountain peaks shimmered.

The voice seemed to come from the mountain itself.

「You have won.」

***

Azure Heaven.

A world of endless blue.

Among the faint spirits of swords drifting before me, one shone brighter than all. Unlike the others, he did not turn away—he faced me directly. His wrinkled face looked oddly familiar.

『Insignificant boy, I pay respect to your world.』

“…”

『A world unbroken, unyielding. A world forged of steel. I can no longer deny it. You have earned the right to hear my final tale. A trivial story from an old man, but still—』

The mists parted. The clouds lifted. The heavens opened.

From the brightest point of light in that sky, the old adventurer—the one whose voice I’d heard countless times within 「Flight」— spoke softly:

『Boy.』

And the memories surged forth. The voice of the man who had once held 「Flight」— the legendary adventurer.

『Do you know the tale of the genius who became a specimen?』

His final memory— and the legend it contained.