Sword Devouring Swordmaster

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 164 「Thunder」 (4)

How the hell had it come to this?

Let’s review.

The instant I recovered the treasure from the Storm River, that familiar unease set in. My unease had never been wrong before, so I was certain some miserable situation would follow—and fled immediately. I hadn’t lingered. Not even to admire the gleam of 「Thunder」, despite Elizabeth’s protests. I had to drag her away.

She’d insisted it was impossible for one of the Arman Union’s beastkin warriors—those elite soldiers of Sirion—to be anywhere near the Great Forest. She’d said that would be like “fearing to run into a dragon while picking herbs in the mountains.”

Her analogy wasn’t wrong. Considering every remote possibility is exhausting, and too much suspicion becomes poison. But my “unease” wasn’t mere animal instinct—it was my doubt weaving together hundreds of little clues into a single warning.

If you look only at the given facts, sure—she’s right. But this feeling? This is the message my doubt sends when the facts fit together into something dangerous.

The Krevelin Great Forest was vast. The elves might be its main power, but countless other races shared this land under the World Tree’s grace. And as Elizabeth herself had said, the forest had suffered multiple assaults lately. They’d managed to survive, but long peace shattered leaves deep scars. Fear spreads. Not just through elves—but through every race that calls this place home.

And the forest’s second strongest faction after the elves…

The beastkin.

Elves and beastkin share the same natural magic, the same blessing of the World Tree. They often aided one another, a friendship born of shared soil.

Now, let’s piece it together.

The recent attacks targeted not just elves—but the entire forest. Did the invaders really strike only elven settlements? Of course not. War consumes everything. Those who invaded would have looted and burned whatever they found. If they couldn’t capture elves, they’d seize other races instead. The beastkin—the second largest people in the forest—couldn’t have escaped unscathed.

Meaning there’s a high chance the elves and beastkin formed an alliance to defend their home.

And if the forest’s gentle beastkin lacked soldiers to fight, whom would they call for help?

The Arman Union.

The only place on the continent where beastkin are not despised. Its warriors would have rushed to aid their kin, out of pride or love—or perhaps for profit.

Because, as Elizabeth herself had explained:

There is much to gain from the elves. The Great Forest is too rich a prize. And earning a debt from elves—that chance may come but once in a lifetime.

So whether from compassion or ambition, the Arman Union had every reason to intervene.

Laying it all out, I finally understood why my instincts had screamed. My relentless doubt had skipped all the reasoning, condensing everything into a single word: danger.

Still, since the Storm River lay close to the forest’s exit, if we moved fast, we’d likely escape before trouble found us. So I hadn’t dawdled. I hurried.

But—

That damned old elf.

—I hadn’t expected him to be waiting right at the exit.

***

“Good work, Antonio. Thanks to you, the intruders didn’t slip away.”

“No need for thanks,” said the wolf-like beastkin, snorting through his nose. “You paid the Union well. I did the job I was hired for.”

“I asked the Union for aid to protect the forest’s peace and the World Tree’s children… and yet I didn’t expect to catch such a large fish.”

Nadin turned his head slowly toward us.

“The last of the Karavans, and the first of the Witches—Elizabeth herself. What a curious pair. The most mismatched man and woman imaginable.”

Elizabeth answered stiffly,

“...Ancient High Elf, I beg forgiveness for trespassing without leave. I swear to the Sky Father, I came with no intent to threaten the Great Forest. This was only a personal matter of the Witches—”

“—To recover a lost treasure of ages past, yes?”

The word treasure froze Elizabeth in place.

“First Witch, the item in your hand—it’s 「Thunder」, is it not? The gift the Sky Father carved from Himself to protect His brides.”

“...How could you, who are no Witch, know that?”

“Because I lived when the Sky Father forged 「Thunder」. I lived when it first fell to the earth and the Witches claimed it. I have lived that long, First Witch.”

Elizabeth fell silent.

Nadin chuckled softly.

“I know you did not come to harm the forest. But to deceive the World Tree’s eyes—and to trespass amid such chaos—is an unforgivable sin.”

“We can offer compensation for that—”

“Compensation?”

Nadin’s eyes glinted coldly.

“Gold? Hah. I doubt Witches are richer than elves. You could never pay enough to satisfy us. Jewels? Magical trinkets? Our forest is littered with gems, and a hundred enchanted baubles aren’t worth one branch of the World Tree. So I will name the price myself.”

“Name it.”

“Thunder. The weapon the Sky Father carved from His own being—hand it to us.”

The wrinkles at the corner of his mouth deepened into a smile.

“Not forever. Merely until this wretched war ends. You know how many enemies now threaten the Great Forest. Their greed blinds them. But if they faced the wrath of the Sky Father, wouldn’t they all flee? Humanity remembers well the terror sung of in their ancient books.”

“...Impossible.”

“That is not yours to decide, Witch. This is the forest. And all within the forest belongs to the forest. I, as the World Tree’s proxy, have the right to claim it.”

Elizabeth trembled with fury.

“Can you even bear its power?”

“Why shouldn’t I? You, a defiled woman who consorts with the steel-blooded spawn of a cursed house?”

“What—what did you just—?”

“I never thought a Witch would stoop to seek aid from a Karavan. Have you forgotten the sins your kind’s founder committed against the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses? Has the world forgotten its history—and with it, the Witches too? Or did your precious Sky Father hide that day’s shame from His beloved bride’s eyes?”

Then Nadin looked straight at me.

“Ah, even if you gave up Thunder, only you might live. The Karavan heir will not. You are the descendant of something that never should have existed. A twisted being destined to bring ruin to the continent. Karavan—you must die here.”

Damn it.

“Karavan heir. Since our last meeting, I’ve slept poorly, haunted by your words. ‘Let’s meet again when I’m stronger,’ was it? Of all enemies one could make, there is none worse than a Karavan. I remember vividly what your ancestor did.”

My ancestor. Master… What did you do this time?

「Petty old fool.」

“…”

「Still holding a grudge because I trimmed a few World Tree branches? He said even Karavan steel couldn’t cut it, so I showed him otherwise. Amazing memory for someone that ancient.」

Of course.

「Don’t grow old like that, my young heir.」

“…”

「Still bitter over nothing…」

Watching my master shake his head, I made myself a promise. No matter how hard my life became, no matter how old I grew, I would never grow into someone like him.

「And don’t think blasphemous thoughts while I’m talking.」

As always, his timing was impeccable.

“Elizabeth,” I said quietly.

The negotiations had failed.

“Got a plan?”

“…You said you could buy time, right?”

“I can.”

“Then buy me as much as you can.”

So there was no chance she’d hand 「Thunder」 over. Whatever that stick was, it had to be worth this madness.

She bit her lip and whispered,

“I’ll awaken 「Thunder」’s true power. Once it awakens, none of them can stop us. Just hold them off until then, Descendant of Steel.”

Hold them off until then?

“Understood.”

Accepted.

“Hoo…”

I drew my sword.

At once, Nadin raised a hand.

“Fire. No need to take them alive.”

“Yes, sir!”

The elves loosed their bowstrings. Dozens of arrows, each infused with spirits, screamed through the air like a storm.

But—

『You were but a breath of wind in my life.』

They couldn’t touch me.

『And I sang the freedom you gave me.』

The sword within me opened its eyes.

The half that had been broken was whole again—Gale.

『Beyond the rainbow, somewhere high above…』

『Let us soar, casting off gravity.』

And the storm began.

***

Without warning, the wind exploded outward. A whirlwind deflected the first volley of arrows; the second wave clattered harmlessly to the ground. Then, in an instant, Arhan vanished from the elves’ sight—like smoke.

“W-what—?”

“Above!”

At Nadin’s shout, the elves looked up. There I was, suspended in the air, sword raised high like an axe over firewood. When the blade traced its line downward, a ringing chime split the air, followed by a heavy shockwave that sent elves flying with cries of pain.

“Spirits—aid us!”

Those who barely withstood the blast called upon their elemental patrons. Wind wrapped around them; they charged forward with their daggers, silent as shadows. A perfect ambush—but then their eyes widened.

“...An illusion?”

As they neared, my image flickered. The golden-haired nobleman blurred, replaced by a wanderer draped in old cloth—an empty, free spirit with a blade for a soul. At his side stood an old woman with snow-white hair.

The completed Gale—two severed souls, at last reunited.

“Ugh—”

The approaching elves saw their world turn upside down. They hadn’t even seen the strike that felled them. One by one, their bodies slammed into the earth. A power beyond understanding—wilder, freer, and more relentless than any wind spirit.

“Too strong for mere elves,” murmured Antonio, the beastkin warrior of Sirion.

He stepped forward.

“I’ll handle this.”

His black tail swished as he unsheathed his claws and appeared behind me, the movement so fast it tore the air. A lifetime of battle experience honed in the Union’s endless wars—a predator’s art beyond human reach.

“...?!”

But Antonio froze mid-swipe. His body wouldn’t move.

A stench struck his nose—overwhelming, metallic.

Blood.

The iron reek was suffocating, like drowning in a sea of corpses. His pupils dilated. Through the Path of Blood, his special sight awoke—revealing a world painted in crimson.

Everything around me screamed death.

“—Hh!”

Antonio leapt back, gasping. He looked down at his chest—where a thin red line had opened, bleeding thickly. He hadn’t even realized when it happened. One step closer, and he’d be dead without ever knowing how.

What… is this?

He’d fought countless warriors for the Arman Union. Though a Sirion’s job was usually reconnaissance, he’d stood on battlefields, crossed swords with knights, and survived. He was no novice.

But this—An overwhelming gap.

The human before him wasn’t one he could ever defeat. The only “path” left in the sea of blood was the narrow one that led to survival.

And the scents… The scents were many.

The man’s blade carried the aroma of a hundred killers—the feminine edge of female swordmasters, the sharp stench of Free City assassins, the rigid discipline of loyal knights—all interwoven. As if countless souls inhabited one body.

“What kind of monster…”

“As expected,” Nadin murmured, “a Karavan is a Karavan.”

Antonio stumbled back, stunned.

Nadin clicked his tongue.

“No one else move. It would only get you killed.”

The elves retreated behind him. He exhaled slowly and faced me.

“You’ve changed completely in such a short time.”

Step by step, Nadin advanced, power rising.

Karavan—the one before him could nullify any natural magic. As he’d shown in the Blade City, the Steel Heart rejected all powers born of nature. “Metal conquers wood”—such was the unpleasant rule.

“Truly a Karavan.”

But Nadin had other options—secrets even the Steel Blood couldn’t counter. The bane of all swordsmen.

“Despair.”

With a thud, the vines and stones around him surged together, forming a colossal giant. A golem, animated by the sacred power of the Great Forest itself. Its body was too hard for any sword to cut—and even if the blade struck true, the earth’s energy would shatter steel itself. A swordsman without a sword was powerless. Even a Karavan couldn’t win against that.

The golem’s core pulsed with power drawn from Gaia, the Spirit King of Earth, with whom Nadin had forged a pact. As long as its feet touched the ground, it would endlessly regenerate, crushing its foes with relentless strength—a loyal, indestructible nemesis of any blade.

“The grass and soil are a second mother to us,” Nadin said solemnly. “The kind earth that nurtures us shall destroy you.”

But then—

“…?”

The golem wavered. Its massive head turned side to side, eyes flickering as if confused. It looked from Nadin to me, then back again, uncertain.

I smirked.

“Guess your mom doesn’t recognize her son.”

That one casual remark snapped the thread of Nadin’s reason.

“Yooouuu insolent brat—!”