Chapter 57: Origin (1)

Everyone called the boy a madman.

It was only natural, for the boy sought out death.

He wandered the continent, fighting countless monsters, and visited renowned martial families, thrusting his sword at their knights.

A boy of humble birth, who had never properly learned even the basics of swordsmanship, was seen as nothing short of insane.

But that didn’t mean he was truly mad.

“If I die, that’s all there is to me.”

“But if I survive, I’ll have grown stronger.”

He simply possessed a resolve unlike any other.

He did not enjoy fighting the weak.

He would only throw himself, like a mad dog, at opponents far stronger than himself.

First, it was a Goblin.

Then, an Orc.

After that, a knight from a martial family.

The boy nearly died three times to a Goblin, and in bringing down a single Orc, he stood at death’s door dozens of times.

Yet, miraculously, he never died.

As if his life simply wasn’t meant to end there, it continued on, no matter what.

After fighting hundreds of battles, crossing the boundary between life and death countless times—when he finally encountered an opponent he desperately wished to surpass—

Before he knew it, the youth who had grown from that boy gripped a single Star.

When he stood alone against the ferocious Great Orc Chieftain, he held two Stars.

When he split the Magic of a powerful Mage’s Army, he wielded three.

As if the heavens themselves refused to let him die, at every moment of crisis, a Star would descend to him.

Conversely, as if the boy himself wished for death, he would hurl himself into danger and seize another Star.

When his Stars numbered several, he finally reached the realm of the strongest.

“That’s a realm far too high for you.”

“How did you ever climb this far?”

The genius who had once dealt him a crushing defeat asked.

Before the genius, the youth lay collapsed, drenched in blood.

“Endless, relentless talent.”

“A background that makes me want to vomit.”

“But I forged a swordsmanship that isn’t bound by such things—a swordsmanship for true Transcendence.”

The youth muttered between bloody coughs.

Clutching his trembling body, which had reached its limits, he rose once more.

“See? Once again, I’ve surpassed my limits.”

As he stood on his own two feet, his final Star shone brilliantly at his side.

The genius gazed at the youth.

Once, he’d been so insignificant as to be barely a memory.

Yet here he was, having grown strong enough to seek him out again.

Waves stirred in the genius’s once-parched emotions.

How could he not be moved?

To have another climb to the lonely pinnacle with him—

“I will call you Sword Saint.”

“Under the heavens, only I, the Sword Emperor, may be your equal.”

The two strongest faced off.

***

The Sword Emperor was the founding lord of Bartenberg.

And the Sword Saint was his only true rival.

In the end, both mastered twelve Stars, and together they surpassed the pinnacle, reaching Transcendence as the second Transcendent.

“Vallach is mistaken about one thing.”

Richard muttered, lowering his gaze to the throbbing Stigmata.

A strange heat lingered in his ragged breaths.

“It isn’t talent that matters most in drawing out the power of the Star.”

Of course, the First Sword Saint’s talent was nothing to scoff at.

But even so, it was only at the level of a top-class Knight.

Didn’t the Trial Engraving itself never demand ‘aptitude’?

What truly mattered was the disposition to risk one’s life against overwhelming opponents.

And, in the end, the unwavering Faith that one would emerge victorious.

The Stigmata, imbued with the First Sword Saint’s Will, desired such things.

It urged its successor to walk the same path, to endlessly confront their limits.

Originally, such reckless challenges did not suit Richard’s temperament.

He truly wished to avoid unnecessary hardship.

Yet, knowing all this, he still received the Engraving from Vallach.

Because the closer he came to death, the stronger he could become.

“Give up… You lot… can’t… defeat me… In the end, I’ll win everything.”

To the voice of Count Poiro, Richard replied quietly.

It was the catchphrase of the First Sword Saint, which he’d seen countless times through the monitor.

Ironically, as if in response to those words, the Stigmata thrummed.

“Aaron”

“Yes, Young Master.”

“Can you still keep going?”

“I could do this all day.”

Aaron feigned composure, boasting with a hint of bravado.

Nodding at that display, Richard once again raised his Star.

A drop of sweat rolled down his cheek.

Richard, having cast aside his crown, could no longer maintain his composure.

The fear he had suppressed reared its head, and his body froze at the murderous intent radiating from the monster before him.

Kaaang—!

In an instant, the Count’s sword slammed against the Star.

Thanks to Aaron, who dashed in like lightning to create an opening, Richard barely managed to block it.

“In the end, I’ll win everything…!”

Richard muttered as he was pushed back by the fierce blow.

At this moment, he felt as if he had become the First Sword Saint himself, no longer considering the possibility of death.

He repeated to himself, as if brainwashing his mind, that he would surely win.

With a stomp, Richard’s Star shot toward the Count’s neck.

Count Poiro ducked low to evade, then swept his sword horizontally.

Puhwak—!

Even that light swing packed a punch.

The aftershock of the slash, missing its mark, still split apart the bodies of both Aaron and Richard as they retreated.

“D-damn it!”

The knights watching the fight stirred uneasily.

But they could not yet intervene.

For the fighting spirit burning in the eyes of the Young Master and his direct Knight was still ablaze.

Gritting their teeth, the two launched another assault.

Star and spear lashed fiercely at the Count.

“Persistent…”

The Count’s sword moved to intercept the attacks coming from both sides.

Kagagang—!

In a flash, Star, spear, and sword clashed repeatedly.

The sparks flying from weapon meeting weapon scattered in all directions.

An exchange of attacks and defenses so fast, the ordinary eye could not follow.

Bang!

In the midst of that storm, a fist slammed into the Count’s armor.

It was Richard’s fist, brimming with fierce determination.

“Impudent—”

The Count’s furious sword strike flew at Richard’s head.

[Hyper Focus—Activate]

Richard’s perception of time slowed.

In this world that seemed frozen, only the Count’s sword stabbed toward him at lightning speed.

Eyes wide, Richard twisted his head with all his strength.

A thin line of blood trickled from his cheek.

“Damn you—!”

The Count cursed and kicked him away.

This time, Richard failed to dodge, and blood spurted from his mouth as he was sent flying.

At that moment—

A spear, wrapped in purple Aura, targeted the Count’s forehead.

The Count thought such an attack could be blocked with his eyes closed.

Kwajik—!

But strangely, half of the Count’s face was blown away.

Had he not twisted his head at the last moment, it would have been fatal.

How?

He had swung his sword to deflect the spear’s path.

The Count’s remaining eye trembled.

Aaron thrust his spear again.

Kadeudeuk!

The straight-on spear shaft was knocked aside by the sword.

This time, he was sure he’d deflected it.

But then, something happened.

The purple Aura coiling around the spear shot out like a serpent hunting its prey.

Its tip aimed for the Count’s shoulder.

Kwajik!

The savage Aura bit into his shoulder, tearing through armor and flesh before dissipating.

“Damn it—!”

Aaron gasped for breath.

His hands could no longer grip the spear, nor could he muster the Aura to maintain it.

A Knight, a subordinate who would always secure the foe his lord desired.

The figure of the Knight that Richard wished for, as they left the Magic House and headed for the Hobsun Mountains.

The ideal that became Aaron’s goal ever since.

But he was still far from it.

After just two thrusts, he was completely spent.

Frustration flashed across his face.

“Not bad…”

The Count let out a short sigh of admiration.

For a Swordmaster like him, it was rare to find a spearman capable of inflicting such a wound.

With just a little more time, he might truly have wielded an unstoppable spear.

Demonic Energy surged along the Count’s sword.

The jet-black blade fell toward Aaron.

Kwaaang—!

A deafening crash rang out.

Before Aaron stood Richard, blocking the blow with his sword.

The Star, locked in a contest of strength, trembled without pause.

“Now it’s my turn.”

A dark, fierce light gleamed in Richard’s eyes.

The persistent pain from the Stigmata, which had been gnawing at his nerves, vanished as if it were a lie.

[Two Swords’ Sword Star – Activate.]

And the second Star appeared behind Richard’s back.

A surge of vitality filled his weary body, as if it had all been a lie.

Kaaang—!

***

[Cast away all doubt]

[When you believe, you shall receive the Light]

The Divine Song of the faithful echoed again and again.

The battle was reaching its end.

The swarming Undead had nearly been wiped out, and the Army of the Dead that had clashed with the First Knight Order was now decapitated and scattered.

All that remained was Count Poiro.

“Kraaaagh!”

The Dead, having lost all their subordinates, erupted in rage.

He had to kill those fiends immediately.

He had to reclaim the Kingdom from the monsters.

But the disgusting monster before him clung on, brandishing that loathsome light.

After that extra light appeared, it became even more unbearable.

Faster, fiercer.

The radiant light, as bright as the sun, blazed with the fury of midsummer.

Kaaang—!

Sword and Star crashed together.

Though he clearly blocked it, the wave of light still swept over the Count.

It was unbearably unpleasant. The Count swung his sword with all his might.

Blood spurted from the monster’s body.

But it didn’t die.

Kwaang, kwaang—!

The monster, now wielding two Stars in both hands, attacked with mad abandon.

It didn’t care how much of its body was cut away; its attacks were relentless and brute.

The Count could have killed him, and naturally, tried to do so.

So why wouldn’t he die?

Why did his attacks keep missing?

Aiming for the neck, he’d cut the shoulder; aiming for the arm, he’d only graze the surface.

The Count could not comprehend the situation.

“I’ve sown this much Faith, and you still don’t get it?”

The disgusting monster halted its attack and spoke.

“Take a good look at what you’ve become.”

“W-what… are you saying…”

The Count’s words faltered.

For some reason, his own hand looked rotten and decayed, as if it belonged to a corpse.

“The monster isn’t us.”

The corpse, revolting to behold, approached the Count.

“Count Poiro, it’s you.”

At those words, the hideous monster regained its form from life.

It made no sense.

The Count looked down at his own body with trembling eyes.

The armor he’d always worn.

The cherished sword he’d treasured.

His body, honed to the utmost.

Everything was just as it had been.

Of course.

That monster was merely wagging its wicked tongue.

Just like a filthy Undead, it must have cast some bizarre Magic.

“Don’t… make me… laugh…”

The Death Knight let out a savage howl.

I’m on this side. You’re on that side.

The sword, swirling with Demonic Energy, slashed toward Richard.

The tip of the blade seemed poised to pierce his forehead, but stopped just short.

“See? You’re not killing me because you know, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t that he wasn’t killing him.

He couldn’t.

He could no longer swing his sword.

His body refused to slay the monster before him.

Pakak—!

The Star of that loathsome light split the Count’s rigid body.

Blood spurted from the gash in all directions.

Something was wrong.

What flowed through his veins was surely the blood of the living, and yet, it was pitch-black.

He felt none of the pain he ought to feel.

“Listen.”

The youth, who had been a monster, spoke calmly.

A beautiful golden voice echoed in the Count’s ears.

[You, blacker than gluttony itself]

[The Light shall restore your true color]

[Wretched soul]

[Shed no more sin]

[You were once great and glorious]

Just a moment ago, the howls of hideous monsters had filled the air.

He was certain, and yet—

Tears leaked from his dead eyes.

Crash—!

The radiant Star once more split his body.

A sacred force shook the Count’s soul.

“Look around you.”

The Count turned his head blankly.

The monsters that had slaughtered all the knights of House Poir were gone without a trace.

Instead, only the knights who had bravely fought and triumphed over the monsters remained.

“Aaah…”

The soldiers who had rushed to reclaim the Kingdom were hideous Undead.

All those he had led—they were all Undead.

With trembling eyes, he once again looked at his own body.

Through the cracks in his armor, rotting flesh crawling with maggots was exposed.

From there, black blood oozed out in thick streams.