Steel against steel.
Sword against sword.
Or will against will.
The sound of their full power clashing always inspires many.
Clang—
Swords collided, and one of them flew far away.
It was the moment when the victor and the defeated were decided.
“Huff… An hour just isn’t enough anymore. At this rate, there’ll come a day when even a full day of sparring won’t settle the match, Atawolf.”
Vitalianus wiped the sweat streaming down and smiled brightly.
However, unlike now, his face was youthful.
A memory from before he earned the title of Sword Saint, when he was still running toward that goal.
Atawolf, standing opposite him, was no different.
Not the long scar on his face, not his grating, scratchy voice—just an ordinary appearance.
“Mahel. I told you, you just can’t beat me.”
Atawolf grinned as he looked at the sword that had flown far away, then glanced at Vitalianus.
After a tense sparring session, Vitalianus was always the one who came out on top.
Still, Atawolf smiled without the slightest pretense.
“How do you wield a sword so ghostly well?”
Vitalianus’ strength was already famous throughout the Academy.
That Atawolf could hold his own so evenly against such a man was remarkable in itself.
“There’s no use whining. You’re better at handling ki, after all, Atawolf.”
While Vitalianus’ talent in swordsmanship and physical prowess was far beyond the human realm, Atawolf’s mastery of ki was no less outstanding.
So Vitalianus said that if time went on, the outcome of their battles could no longer be predicted.
“In any case, the one thing that’s certain is that we’ll both become the greatest knights.”
That much was undeniable.
Even among the many talented individuals in Imenia, only two stars shone brightest.
But perhaps they shined too brightly.
Or maybe it was a problem that their light shone from too low a place.
Many envied and resented them, and all that malice was directed solely at Atawolf.
Unlike the flawless Vitalianus, Atawolf bore a fatal flaw.
What always held him back was his origin.
The Kingdom of Luxen.
***
A small kingdom on the western peninsula, bordering the Empire.
It had a rather long history, but had been in decline for some time until it completely fell when Atawolf was young.
There was no foreign invasion.
It simply rotted from within until it collapsed entirely.
Civil wars and rebellions.
The terrified king surrendered everything that symbolized the nation to the Empire.
The Empire accepted and ended the turmoil, officially annexing the Kingdom of Luxen.
However, the problem was that many refused to accept it.
Rebels.
Centered on those who would never survive if integrated into the Empire, they rallied, raising even the nonexistent patriotism and clamoring for Luxen’s liberation.
Even though it was clear the kingdom would fall again soon if revived, they carried out various terrorist acts under the banner of defending their homeland.
That was why the Empire’s citizens could not look favorably on those from Luxen.
The vast majority of Luxen natives had no connection to those terrorists, yet they were resented and rejected.
And the brunt of this was borne by Atawolf.
Because he dared to shine despite being from Luxen.
“Filthy Luxen, crawling into Imenia without knowing your place?”
Atawolf endured every insult.
He believed becoming stronger would solve everything.
To become a person no one could ignore, a hero who could clear the shame of his family and all those from Luxen who were oppressed.
He was born with a power that grew stronger the more renowned he became.
So he silently endured.
Endured the words of those who couldn’t say a word in Vitalianus’ presence but came to hurl insults when he was alone.
Endured the slander of his family and excessive pranks.
He knew exactly what the reaction would be if he lost his temper and responded.
“See? Luxen scum are always like this. I knew it. Evil creatures. They should all be wiped out without a trace.”
That was the kind of talk that would come.
So he had to bear it.
Surely, one day, they would understand.
One day, he would be called a hero, and his origin would no longer matter.
That hope kept him going.
But even in the midst of that endurance, the one thing that made it bearable was this:
“Say your origin one more time in front of me, and I’ll make you feel just how worthless your background really is.”
Of course, it was Vitalianus.
The prestige of his family, his manners and charisma, his natural talent and tireless effort to utilize it.
Truly, a being born to become a hero.
Atawolf nurtured his dream by his side.
He vowed to become a hero and cleanse the shame of Luxen, walking that path together.
“Atawolf, since your power grows stronger as you gain fame, in time, someone like me won’t even be a match. Hahaha!”
Vitalianus, the monster who had already risen to the 5th rank by the time they graduated from the Academy.
Hearing such words from him felt pretty good, so Atawolf smiled back.
“I’m counting on you from now on, my friend.”
Atawolf’s reputation only grew after graduation, especially in the knights.
Atawolf of the Black Mist.
Though he lagged behind Vitalianus in swordsmanship, he was a skill awakened user who wielded the Black Mist freely.
As his fame and achievements increased, people’s opinions slowly began to shift.
“They say a Luxen native, Atawolf, stopped the disaster in the Dobach region.”
“They say he saved many lives.”
“He was recognized by the Chief of the Capital Knights.”
His name became known little by little, and perception gradually improved.
With that reputation, Atawolf’s strength only grew more formidable.
If things continued like this… his dream and their promise would not seem so far away.
Vitalianus thought so, and Atawolf likely thought the same.
Back then, they did not yet realize that the future should never be predicted lightly.
That misfortune is only misfortune because it cannot be anticipated.
“We’ve received intelligence that the Luxen terror group is planning something near the capital.”
Despite having eradicated them, some had survived and continued their terrorist acts.
Knowing that Luxen could never be rebuilt, they acted in madness.
Their actions had no justification anymore.
They were just crimes that made innocent Luxen natives miserable.
Knowing his friend suffered because of it, Vitalianus did not hesitate.
“I’ll go.”
This mission wasn’t originally assigned to him.
It was intelligence gained by chance during another operation and was too important to ignore.
Vitalianus wanted to personally handle it quickly.
“No, I’ll go.”
Atawolf opposed him and stepped forward.
No one objected.
In a situation requiring both search and suppression, Atawolf’s abilities were superior to Vitalianus’, and anyone who had been on a mission with him knew that well.
Also… he was from Luxen.
There was an unspoken feeling that since the problem was caused by Luxen, it should be resolved by Luxen.
“Are you sure about this?”
Only Vitalianus voiced his concern toward Atawolf.
Because he knew well Atawolf’s heart for his hometown.
“Don’t worry.”
Atawolf led the squad and moved out immediately.
The terrorists’ strength was insignificant, and they had intelligence—so they could quickly subdue them.
The scene they arrived at was chaos.
***
Boom—!
“Ahhh!”
“P-please spare me!”
“They’re Luxen! Luxen scum!”
Explosions and screams filled the air in a scene of utter mayhem.
Perhaps the intelligence was wrong, or the terrorists had caught on.
The indiscriminate terror attack was carried out earlier than expected.
As if wielding an ancient Artifact, explosions erupted all over the city, and fierce flames swept through.
“Capture the ringleaders!”
But was it not Atawolf who had arrived at the scene?
The Black Mist he wielded instantly identified the ringleaders and minimized the damage.
Though he could not prevent those already lost or the spreading fire, it was the best possible response.
“…Why are you doing this?”
When Atawolf asked the captured leader, the man hung his head deeply.
“So you’re Atawolf. The knight from Luxen.”
“You know well that Luxen is already beyond saving. This is just something that makes us even more miserable.”
“I know… but what am I supposed to do?”
The man lowered his head, tears streaming down.
Then he suddenly raised it and vented his pent-up rage.
“My whole family is dead! Just because we’re from Luxen! What did we ever do wrong?”
Atawolf could not answer.
Hadn’t he also suffered, having to endure that resentment simply because he was from Luxen?
“…Still, none of the people here did anything wrong. This isn’t right.”
“Then what about me? What wrong did I do? My family beaten to death? Huh? Answer me!”
Again, he could not answer.
The innocent were piling up sin after sin.
‘What was the cause, and what should they blame?’
“…Yeah. It’s meaningless. Enough. That’s enough.”
The man gave up and lowered his head again.
Atawolf pondered what to say for a long time but ultimately said nothing.
No words of comfort could have meaning.
Even saying he understood would feel like deceit, so Atawolf remained silent.
“I’ll be handed over to the Imperial Police.”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll get tortured and then killed. By the same bastards who killed my family.”
His limbs bound by the Black Mist.
All those involved in the terror act looked like him.
The perpetrators were captured so tightly that they could not even think of escaping.
“Could you take out a sheet of paper from your pocket? I want to see my family’s faces one last time.”
Atawolf sheathed his sword and approached the man.
It was the best he could do, the greatest comfort he could offer.
“I didn’t expect to get caught… So the ‘Atawolf of the Black Mist’ really is famous. What a joke. Truly… impressive.”
The man, seeming to have given up on everything, muttered.
Atawolf reached into his inner pocket, and indeed, there was a sheet of paper.
A portrait of two young children and a couple smiling brightly.
Then—
“Yeah… It’s all the damned Empire’s fault.”
The man murmured as he stared blankly at the photo.
“All Empire citizens deserve to die. And…”
Atawolf felt an inexplicable discomfort from the man’s expression.
“And the filthy traitors who sided with the Empire! They all deserve to die too!”
A transparent blade flashed suddenly at his throat.
Atawolf barely dodged, but his neck was cut so deeply that blood spurted out.
“Black Mist’s Atawolf! Filthy traitor! How laughable to see you barking like a dog for the Empire!”
‘Was it a hidden skill of the man’s?’
Transparent blades rained down indiscriminately.
But the outburst lasted no more than a few seconds.
“Because of you…! Why! Why! Why! What did we ever do wrong! What…!”
The man’s head was swiftly severed by the knight standing behind Atawolf.
Blood surged, and though his head was cut off, his mouth moved as if venting the depth of his resentment, eyes wide open.
Atawolf’s inability to answer was not only due to the wound on the neck.
“Are you all right? Let’s get you back for treatment.”
Leaving that behind, Atawolf had no choice but to turn away.
He too was badly injured.
Though his neck was not completely severed, the wound was severe enough that blood flowed profusely, requiring urgent treatment.
Thus, the suppression ended in an awkward atmosphere.