"Come."
"I'm coming."
"I'm ready."
"Then I'm coming. I'm really coming."
"You talk too much... Keuk."
Ka-ang!
He disappeared and then reappeared. Facing him, Professor Leit couldn't help but feel that way. There was no warning, no preparatory motion.
He simply vanished and reappeared, and when he did, Patrick was right in front of him. And then, a sharp attack flew in. Although he managed to block it with his longsword, he was so startled by the preposterous speed that he had to take a large step back.
But...
‘No, I can't. If I retreat... I can't put distance between myself and Patrick.’
Making a quick decision, Professor Leit suppressed his instinct to retreat and forced his feet to move forward. Putting distance between yourself and a faster opponent is a foolish thing to do.
Unconditionally forward.
I just have to press forward.
"Haaap!"
With a powerful shout, Professor Leit's sword drew a disciplined arc as it attacked Patrick. 'Oh, not bad.' Patrick was impressed.
He had instinctively taken a step back after seeing his speed, but right after, he moved forward. It's the standard and correct judgment to press an opponent faster than yourself without giving them distance. But to actually execute that judgment with your body requires courage and skill.
Moving forward, the sword Professor Leit swung was slower than Patrick's, but in its place, it had discipline. It was a proper swordsmanship that suited the phrase, "This is the very foundation of the sword." A solid lower body, its central axis unwavering with each step.
An upper body, relaxed of its strength to allow for flexible and smooth movements. Amidst that, Professor Leit's sword, honed to perfection for use in real combat, was like a festival of fundamentals.
‘Kuh... so there are guys like this on the Pangemonia Continent too. This is what you call a master. This is a master.’
To Patrick, Professor Leit was the first six-star knight he had encountered in this world. Strictly speaking, April was also six-star, but her sword was not of Pangemonia, but the sword of the Twin Dragon Sect that Patrick had taught her. So it was a sword Patrick knew well, and there was nothing much to be moved by.
However, Professor Leit's sword was the first purely Pangemonia Continent master's sword that Patrick had encountered. To Patrick's eyes, the swordsmanship of Pangemonia seemed not just simple but crude, yet before him now was a man who had reached his own level of mastery by ceaselessly honing that crude swordsmanship.
'Should I say it's somewhere in between the Namgung Clan and the Qingcheng Sect?' The sword of the Namgung Clan, which represents the heavy sword. The sword of the Qingcheng Sect, which symbolized the swift sword.
It was a swordsmanship that rested subtly somewhere in the middle of those two swords. Was that why? A word of disappointment escaped Patrick's lips.
"It's a bit of a shame."
"Hm?"
"What is it you want to do?"
"... What do you... Keuk."
Ka-ang!
Patrick, who had been retreating while blocking Professor Leit's sword, launched his first counterattack. Having widened the distance from Leit with that counterattack, Patrick spoke.
"I'm asking what you want to do with the sword."
"What I want to do? With the sword?"
"No, let me ask something more fundamental. What do you think the sword is?"
"..."
Leit closed his mouth. What is the sword? The sword is a sword.
A knight's weapon. But Patrick's question now seemed to be asking something different, something beyond that simplicity. A point that he, no, that the swordsmen of the Pangemonia Continent had never once considered.
"It seems you've never thought about it."
"..."
Professor Leit's face flushed. He could sense a faint pity in the expression Patrick was directing at him. For some reason, it felt incredibly shameful.
He even felt like a small child who had been caught by his parents after making a mistake in his youth. And Patrick nodded and said.
"If you don't know, then I must teach you. What the sword is, what the martial way is."
"..."
"The sword is..."
Patrick's swords were swung. The moment he saw the trajectory of those swords, swung with fluid precision, Professor Leit was startled. 'Is this... my swordsmanship?'
In Patrick's swordplay, executed with two longswords, he could clearly feel his own swordsmanship. How could he, who used a single sword, and Patrick, who used two, use the same swordsmanship? 'It doesn't make sense.'
As if mocking such a question, Patrick perfectly embodied Leit's swordsmanship and pushed him back. And at the same time, words flowed from his mouth.
"The foundation of the sword is a weapon, a deadly tool to protect oneself and kill the enemy."
"Keuk..."
"But deciding how to use that weapon is ultimately up to a person's will."
"Ugh..."
Patrick's swords grew faster and faster. Leit, while blocking the swords, could no longer advance and was repeatedly forced to retreat. April, watching from a distance, nodded her head.
'He's excited for the first time in a while.' She had seen Patrick act like this before. It was the way he looked when he would occasionally teach her one-on-one in the past.
Advice and trials meant to guide a promising talent when he discovered one. April knew very well what great fortune that was for someone who trained in the sword. She surveyed her surroundings and decided to prevent anyone else from approaching.
Because this important moment must not be disturbed.
"Sometimes, with great speed..."
Ka-ang!
The sword became like a flash of light. He hadn't blocked it because he knew it was coming, but because his opponent had deliberately struck his sword.
"Sometimes, with great weight."
Ku-ung!
"Keuk..."
It was a heavy attack, as if a giant battle hammer were pressing down on him. He blocked it, but the skin of his palm gripping the sword tore.
"Sometimes, with gentleness."
A sword?
Is this also a sword? The sword, which should have been made of steel, was swung as gently as a whip.
Swung?
No, this was a usage that could only be described as 'flowing.' How could a sword made of hard iron move so softly?
Swish.
The sword that flowed like that wrapped around Professor Leit's sword and sent it flying into the sky.
Cha-aeng!
"..."
Leit stared blankly at Patrick. He couldn't do anything. No, it wasn't a matter of could or couldn't, this was...
"As you can see. The sword contains many possibilities like this, and depending on the direction of the one who trains, it shows various forms."
"... Ah... um... that..."
"However!"
"..."
Patrick cut him off sharply. And he looked at Professor Leit as if rebuking him and said.
"Not choosing a direction amidst such diverse possibilities is like drifting aimlessly in the open sea. First, one must clarify what they want to achieve and pursue that goal correctly. That is the proper attitude for one who trains in the sword."
"..."
"..."
"Speed, power, technique, change, timing."
"..."
"" "Not one of these is unimportant, but even among them, you must be clear about what your goal is. But you, you are lost, wandering in the direction of speed and power."
"Lost and wandering? Me?"
"That's right. First, decide your path and devote yourself to it. If you do, the other things will naturally be pursued in the process."
"Goal, direction, the path I want to take..."
"..."
Professor Leit's eyes changed. What was his gaze, which had lost its focus, looking at? What he was seeing was his own inner self.
The sword he had swung countless times without thought. The sword he had simply swung diligently, according to the basics, as he had been taught. At first, that must have been right.
But what had he gained from a sword that he simply repeated thoughtlessly, without any direction?
Faster speed?
More proficient technique? An increasing amount of aura?
'It's meaningless.
Without a goal, the means don't even have a purpose.
I...
I was wrong.' The moment he realized that fact, the energy of the aura hole in Leit's dantian rose upwards. The energy that rose from his lower abdomen settled in his heart, and then it knocked on the door of another space that existed there.
"Ah... Ahhh..."
Leit trembled.
This was it. It should have been like this. Why didn't I know?
How much time had he wasted not knowing this simple thing? Two streams of clear tears flowed down Professor Leit's cheeks. By the time those tears, mixed with regret and joy, had passed his cheeks, his chin, and reached the ground...
"Ah... Ahhh..."
The energy that rose from his lower dantian settled in his middle dantian. And Leit, as if possessed, picked up his sword lying on the ground and infused it with his energy.
Woooong.
Aura overflowed from the sword. An energy far clearer and more powerful than before condensed on the sword. But now, it felt like he could do something more than this.
'The flowing aura... I will control it as one.' At that moment, the aura condensed on the sword compressed, increasing its density.
And then... Pachiiing!
A brilliantly shining sword of light was there.
Aura Blade.
The proof of the supreme realm, the seven-star level.
"Oh... Ooooh..."
The second seven-star swordsman of the Atronia Kingdom had appeared in this place.
"Well, that's to be expected."
Patrick saw the emotional Professor Leit and let out a small laugh. Considering the fundamentals ingrained in his body and the energy he felt, he was someone who should have been able to do this long ago. But the swordsmen of this Pangemonia Continent lacked a sense of purpose for their swords.
Namgung pursuing the heavy sword. Qingcheng pursuing the swift sword. Mount Hua pursuing the illusion sword.
The Peng Clan pursuing the path of supremacy. Wudang pursuing Taiji. In the martial world, these were things everyone knew, even if they hadn't trained in martial arts.
In the Wudang Sect's territory, even the kids in the back alleys would play by drawing circles in the air with wooden sticks, shouting, 'Hiyah! It's the Taiji Sword Technique!' In the Mount Hua Sect's territory, kids would play by drawing flower patterns with wooden sticks, shouting 'Twenty-Four Plum Blossom something-or-other.'
'It was a sight that made my stomach ache, thinking how great the influence of those righteous sects was, but on the other hand, it meant that presenting and pursuing a direction in martial arts was just common sense in the martial world.' That obvious common sense did not exist here.
Just diligently. Just sincerely. Just consistently.
The swordsmen of this continent were those who ignorantly swung their swords, believing that if they just did that, they would someday reach a higher realm. From Patrick's perspective, it was beyond pitiful; it was absurd. So he gave him advice.
It was advice given out of pity for a junior who was wandering like a single leaf boat in the vast sea of the sword, setting aside their relationship as professor and student. Patrick didn't do this often, but this time... 'Well, it was a whim.'
He just did it because he felt like it. There was no special meaning behind it. How did Professor Leit react to such a Patrick?
Thud!
"Thank you."
He knelt, bowed his head, and expressed his gratitude to Patrick with the utmost respect.
"Is it okay for a knight to kneel just like that?"
"Excluding in front of royalty, this is the first time I have knelt of my own will."
"Wow... those are some expensive knees."
It was a playful voice, but Professor Leit's ears could not detect any disrespect in it. He began to feel that whatever Patrick said or did was special. He even wondered, "Is this how priests feel when they receive an oracle?"
To that Professor Leit, Patrick waved his hand and said.
"Well, there's no need to be so thankful. I just placed a cornerstone on the foundation you've already built."
"If you hadn't placed that cornerstone, I would have likely wandered for several more decades, right?"
"Well, that's..."
"Setting aside our relationship as professor and student, I express my deep gratitude simply as one swordsman. I have received a grace I can never repay in my lifetime."
"Oh. Is that so?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Iiiis that right?"
The corners of Patrick's mouth lifted into a long smile.
"You've received a grace? Then you'll have to repay it, won't you?"
"That is a mat... ter of course... but."
Professor Leit's gaze wavered seriously. Just a moment ago, he had been feeling the thrill of a believer receiving the gospel. But the one who delivered that oracle to him was a bit...
"Hahaha. Then you'll have to listen well to what I say from now on, right? I'm your benefactor, after all."
"Th...at's... right?"
"Mhm, good attitude. A good attitude. If you receive a grace, you should naturally repay it. Yes, of course."
"..."
What is this? This feeling that I've gotten myself into something bad? Should I try to back out now?
The thrill of having achieved the supreme realm of a seven-star knight slowly faded, and in its place, an anxiety that said, "I don't think this is right," began to creep in.