Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 100 : Chapter 100

Translator: AkazaTL
Pr/Ed: Sol IX
***
Chapter 100. Wings (3)
「The principle of acceleration within Wings lies in connection.」
During our continued training, Liam began giving me advice unlike his usual vague, cryptic remarks. This time, they were meaningful—practical teachings I could actually apply.
「Simply put, it’s about linking your body with the Paths that extend from you—and then drawing yourself along those Paths in an instant.」
“Drawing myself along with them?”
「When you reach the realm of a Sword Runner, the range of Paths you can extend as a Sword Walker expands dramatically. You’ll be able to stretch your Paths far beyond what you can now.」
The Path—The force that allows one to sense danger and move at superhuman speed. Upon reaching the Sword Runner stage, that same force helps the swordsman cause phenomena.
「When you extend a Path toward an enemy and intend to accelerate, the pre-extended Path pulls you forward. That’s what allows for a charge so fast it seems like teleportation.」
“Pulls me forward…”
「The same principle applies to the acceleration of thought. The Paths spread throughout your body let you perceive the world in slow motion, like a superhuman. Your Wings, in turn, pull your perception forward—allowing you to predict farther ahead, to see a further world. That is the secret of acceleration hidden within Wings.」
Hearing that, I finally understood why Sword Runners were called “ghosts of the battlefield.”
A Sword Runner who could extend Paths across the field could instantly perceive the state of the entire battle—every opponent, every movement. After all, receiving information through Paths was something even a Sword Walker could do.
A Sword Runner simply received more, faster, and from farther away. But that wasn’t all.
A Sword Runner could act on that information. They would instinctively know where they needed to be and—by pulling on the Path they’d already extended—actually become present there. Not just moving fast—existing precisely where they were needed. Thus, “ghost of the battlefield.” A nightmare for their enemies.
「If you wish to use the 「Gale」 you’ve ingested properly, you must grasp this well.」
“Why is that?”
「Right now, you only use the vagabond’s Mystery to disrupt tangled flows and break your enemies’ formations. But the original wielder of that sword didn’t fight that way. He read the events of the battlefield clearly through his Paths, and by disturbing those interconnected threads, he rendered his enemies powerless. He achieved the same result as if he were present—without ever being there. He became a single gust of wind.」
Liam looked straight at me.
「My young descendant, you think you’ve fully absorbed the swords you’ve devoured, but from my view, you are still clumsy. Look with a wider gaze. And as I always say—doubt everything. Was that truly the best way? Could it not be better? Always ask that.」
“…Understood.”
Liam was being unusually generous with his advice.
That very fact made me uneasy.
Something’s coming, I thought.
Even in the face of disaster, Liam normally spoke in riddles and abstractions, forcing me to find meaning myself. But now, he was clear and precise—almost kind.
Why? Was the coming danger so great that he had no choice but to prepare me directly? Or had he suddenly decided to act like a benevolent master? I doubted the latter. Which only made my unease grow.
“Phew.”
Still, all I could do was swing my sword.
Connect from the Mana Heart. Keep the Mana solid, like the Paths within your body, and let the Wings grow from there. Not Wings that sprout from the back, but Wings that burst through the shoulder blades, grown from the Mana Heart itself.
I pictured the image clearly and began channeling Mana. Every time, I felt the day was too short—twenty-four hours was never enough. Day slipped away quickly, night arrived too soon.
I wanted a body that didn’t need sleep.
Why had the gods made humans tired, forcing them to waste eight hours a day in unconsciousness? Why did we need to eat to keep our strength? Even the hours lost to sleep and meals felt unbearably wasteful.
“You’ve improved greatly, Young Master.”
Tom’s words from before made me even more impatient.
“Have I?”
“Yes. You’ve fully grasped the sensation.”
“Then—”
“At this rate, you’ll reach 「Sword Runner」 within six months at the latest.”
Six months.
“…Six months?”
“Yes. Why that face? Reaching from 「Sword Walker」 to 「Sword Runner」 in half a year is an incredible feat! Why do you look disappointed—?”
Half a year. About 180 days.
Tom, the caretaker, said it so lightly, but after hearing him, I went to Liam to confirm.
Would it really take me six months?
「Longer.」
Liam’s reply was short and absolute.
…Of course.
I didn’t even need an explanation to accept it. Reaching 「Sword Runner」 in an instant would’ve been stranger. Even Seol Yoon, a heaven-sent genius, had needed far longer—and deep enlightenment—to spread her Wings. For someone like me, half a year was already fast.
I owed that speed to my peculiar ability—to devour swords. Without the blood of Karavan, I’d still be floundering. When Swordmaster Carlos turned our domain into a land of death, I’d been left alone, practicing from a cheap sword manual for a year.
It yielded nothing. I couldn’t even reach 「Sword Beginner」. If not for Liam, I’d still be digging holes in the dark. So I should have been satisfied with “half a year.” But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be.
“Haa…”
I wanted to grow stronger—faster. Greed filled me.
I wanted power that could be seen.
I wanted a sharper sword, sooner.
I wanted to reach that bastard.
To gouge out the eyes of Carlos, who still looked down on me with contempt. To make him kneel, to sever his limbs. And then to execute the Iron Prince who had once commanded him.
I wanted to erase, from this world, all who still lived after stealing everything precious to me.
If the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses refused to judge them—then I would.
Things I couldn’t accept.
Things that made no sense.
A world that had gone wrong. I wanted to set it right—sooner, faster.
「Even half a year feels long to you?」
“Yes.”
「Of course. You’ve always been that way.」
Liam smiled faintly.
「Do not worry. A Karavan grows amidst storms. Like steel that hardens the more it is struck by flame, you will only grow stronger through trials.」
He gazed again toward some faraway place.
「A trial is coming. A great one.」
***
Liam’s concrete guidance helped immensely—especially his lesson about the Path.
Understanding that the acceleration of Wings came from the Path pulling its master painted a vivid image in my mind.
If my Wings were to sprout from the Mana Heart, they’d be tightly bound to me—far more deeply than any ordinary Wings. Then perhaps I could use my Paths in the same way. As soon as the thought struck, I acted on it.
From that moment, my heart became more tightly linked to the Paths. Not merely in vision, but as if bound by real knots. I could feel the connection.
The Paths branching through my body began to intertwine, just like veins in flesh. The sensation grew vivid. My Sword Walker senses expanded dramatically—I could almost see Seol Yoon’s sword.
At the same time, I began predicting the movements created by her Wings. Not by sight, but by reading them through the Paths. When I tried to mimic her movement, I felt as though my own Paths pulled me along.
Out of every ten swings, one made me feel the sword dragging me forward. Following that pull, I could move at a speed that surprised even myself—just like a Sword Runner accelerating, just like flying with wings.
“That’s it!”
“Yes?”
“That! That feeling of the sword pulling you, not your feet moving. Once you awaken that sensation and control it—you’ll be able to spread your Wings. Just a little further.”
My heart pounded.
Just a little.
I’d never realized such words could be so thrilling.
Every swing of the sword filled me with joy.
The sensation of growing and changing with each motion—it was bliss. In the midst of that elation, Tom spoke.
“You’ve taken a step forward. That’s it. Think of every Path as being connected. That’s why the power of a 「Sword Walker」 is called ‘Path’ in the first place. If you are the master of the Path, you should be able to go wherever your Paths reach, shouldn’t you?”
“Ah…”
“A Sword Walker extends Paths. A Sword Runner walks them. To exist wherever your Path leads—that is the secret power contained within the Wings.”
Tom clapped his hands and laughed. Then, as always, he drifted into an old tale.
“That’s why they call a Sword Runner the ‘Ghost of the Battlefield.’ Think of ghosts in old tales—they appear everywhere, impossible to flee from.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how that expression first came about? It’s quite an old story… ah, am I rambling again? If you need to return to training, I’ll stop. This old man gets carried away—ha ha.”
“No, I’d like to hear it.”
Having pushed myself to the limit, I welcomed the brief pause. Besides, there was often hidden wisdom in Tom’s stories. Humans, after all, are creatures who learn from the past.
“Hmm-hmm. Then listen well.”
He looked delighted, his lips twitching with excitement. That boyish eagerness was one of Tom’s charms. Clearing his throat like a storyteller, he began.
“Long ago, there was an age when the term ‘Sword Runner’ didn’t even exist. Back then, the sword itself was a novelty. There were only blades, spears, shields—blood, arrows, fire, and steel. Metal weapons weren’t categorized, and edged tools were seen merely as instruments for killing. It was an age of war. There were no Mana Hearts, no Paths, no Wings—only flesh, blood, and screaming steel.”
Tom’s tone was warm.
“In that era of despair, a wanderer appeared on a battlefield. He yawned amidst blood and flame—too relaxed to be a soldier. People thought he’d gone mad from the endless war. At least, until he began to swing his sword.”
“……”
“When he swung, he was everywhere on the battlefield—like a ghost. Only then did people truly see him. The brilliant banner, the Lazy Idler, the elusive sword… you can guess who I mean.”
Tom smiled knowingly.
“Rhapsody—the House Rhapsody. Of the Great Five Houses, the most free-spirited. Descendants of the Lazy Idler. The word ‘Sword Runner’ was born from their ancestor. Ironic, isn’t it? The laziest sword in history became the fastest on the continent.”
“……”
“That legend still lives on. Bards sing that when a Rhapsody’s sword reaches its peak, it becomes the fastest blade in existence—a sword that can be everywhere at once. Especially the current head, Hugo Rhapsody—they say he’s like a storm, less a man, more a natural disaster.”
***
The Iron City, Ferma.
At its heart, the circular coliseum, the 「Arena」, had finally grown quiet. The main event had long ended, and even the lesser matches were done. Spectators had gone home, the streets filled only with drunks slumped over or thieves prowling for easy prey.
The lights were out. Only the cold blue moon illuminated Iron City.
In the dark, a man walked down an iron street. His face was hidden by a mask, his body wrapped in ragged cloth. A beggar’s silhouette—except for the long, thin sword jutting from his side. It resembled the kind of blade noblewomen carried to end their lives if dishonored—a weapon for suicide or last-ditch resistance, not for killing others.
“Hey, pal. This is our turf.”
“……”
“Our turf, got it? If you’re lookin’ for a place to sleep, go somewhere else. Damn it, maybe it’s ‘cause the Infinite Duel ended—lately, all kinds of nobodies are crawling outta the woodwork.”
When the shabby man stepped deeper into the alley, the local beggars bared their teeth.
They didn’t welcome outsiders—especially not another mouth to feed.
“Get lost.”
They crowded him, thinking they could scare him off—or, if not, kill him quietly and bury the body.
The city guards didn’t patrol these alleys at night anyway.
As they jeered and prodded, the man finally spoke.
“I’m looking for the coliseum.”
“What?”
“They called it the Arena, didn’t they? I have business with the one who runs it. They must answer for something.”
The beggars burst into laughter.
A beggar demanding an audience with the Arena’s master? He had to be insane—or delusional. His accent marked him as from one of the Six Free Cities, and beggars from there were notorious braggarts.
“You son of a—”
The frontmost beggar raised his hand to strike.
The others chuckled, tossing coins and scraps.
Ting.
A steel coin spun into the air.
And then──light flashed.
“─!”
In the heartbeat that coin took to fall, the alley turned to slaughter. The beggars collapsed like a sandcastle struck by a wave. Flesh, bone, and blood disintegrated into fine dust and scattered silently to the ground. It was as smooth and quiet as sand slipping through fingers.
Ting.
The coin landed.
When it clinked against the ground, only one beggar remained breathing—staring blankly at the man amid the ruin. He blinked once—and the man was suddenly right before him, close enough for their faces to touch. He hadn’t seen him move. Couldn’t have.
“I asked where the coliseum is.”
The man’s voice was less human than beastlike—a growl from deep within the throat. To the beggar, he no longer looked human. No—no longer even alive.
What stood there was a sword.
“My son met with an accident there. So tell me where it is—before I return every worthless soul in this wretched Iron City to the gods.”
Seven swords.