Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 63 : Chapter 63

Chapter 63 – Gale (4)
“……That’s a lie, right?”
The human fighters gathered to protect me all reacted the same way.
“The dwarves have lost their minds. What kind of lunatic race sends out a 「Sword Expert」 for a Race Duel?”
“This is as shocking as when the orc high chieftain showed up that one time.”
The 「Race Duel」 was meant to be a kind of event match. When the orc side sent their high chieftain before, everyone understood—it was the orcs, after all. They were an unpredictable, mad race by nature. But why would the dwarves, whose true experts were rare and precious, send out someone like that?
To the human warriors watching, it was incomprehensible.
The humans had no chance of winning from the start. Their strongest fighter barely reached the level of a 「Sword Runner」, and most hadn’t even come to defend their race’s honor—they just wanted a bit of attention or prize money. So it was only natural that morale had completely collapsed.
“Damn it. I’m out.”
“What the hell is this…”
The hesitant fighters all withdrew. Not because they were cowards.
The human participants were brave—worthy of the title fighter. They had risked their lives countless times against stronger foes, triumphed in honest duels, and earned glory through blood and steel.
But a 「Sword Expert」? That was beyond reason.
They could face a giant made of stone.
They could wage war against a horde with nothing but a spear.
But against that thing? Never.
Even the bravest warrior could not fight a natural disaster.
You could not swing a sword at a tidal wave, or stand firm against a storm, or dive into a volcano.
Yes— A 「Sword Expert」 was a calamity. An unyielding, wordless force of destruction that one could not resist.
“I forfeit! Take my tag!”
“You too, hurry! Move!”
Before a disaster, humans could only pray—or run. And no one could laugh at them for it. It was natural. Inevitable.
But then someone said—
“……Then why isn’t that young man running?”
Indeed, they couldn’t understand.
“Maybe he’s given up on living! Come on, move!”
“No… that’s not it. Look at him.”
Everyone else fled—famous fighters, seasoned swordsmen who’d reached the level of 「Sword Runner」.
But one didn’t.
“That kid… he’s standing like he means to fight.”
A mere 「Sword Walker.」A boy who didn’t even look eighteen. Yet he didn’t run.
He stood firm—like steel.
***
“It’s only natural that your realm is beneath mine, descendant of Steel. You’ve barely begun walking the path of the sword, while I, Dwight, have lived through endless wars since before I could even walk.”
“……”
“If I were to move, you’d be crushed before you could blink. So—”
He raised three fingers.
“I’ll let you strike three times. No defense, no evasion, no counterattack. You may unleash everything you have.”
“……”
“Don’t misunderstand—this isn’t mercy for the weak, nor arrogance of the strong. It’s simple greed.”
Through the gap of his black iron helm, I saw his gleaming eyes.
“I’ve always wanted to see it with my own eyes—the famed Steel Blood spoken of only in legend. To feel it in my own flesh. That is my ugly desire.”
Yes—there was no arrogance in Dwight’s tone. Only hunger.
“And as a descendant of Steel, you must understand.”
I understood instinctively.
“This isn’t compassion. It’s a harsher trial than being killed in a single blow. A crueler ordeal than death.”
I could tell just from the pressure alone—even if I swung for decades, I wouldn’t leave a scratch on him.
That was the scale of the difference.
“So then—strike, descendant of Steel.”
His heavy voice echoed.
“Show me how solid you truly are.”
His presence pressed down like gravity.
I could barely breathe. And in that suffocating stillness, I understood what he meant by “a harsh trial.”
The hand gripping my sword trembled helplessly.
Reason whispered that it was hopeless.
No strike of mine could wound Dwight. And when he saw my swordplay, he would be disappointed—the fantasy he held of Steel Blood would shatter.
He would see me for what I was: small, powerless, pathetic.
Yes. A cruel trial indeed.
I hadn’t even swung, yet I already felt defeated. It was more humiliating than being thrown to the dirt. More degrading than being jeered at by thousands.
As I looked down at my trembling hand, memory surfaced.
Yeah. It had been like this before.
“……Damn it.”
When that cursed Swordmaster had come to my estate.
When Swordmaster Carlos stood over the blood-stained earth, my parents dead, my home in ruins, his sword dripping with my family’s blood.
What had I done then? Nothing.
I’d frozen, paralyzed by fear.
Even with my parents’ killer before me, I’d done nothing but tremble.
I still remembered that trembling.
The pounding of my terrified heart.
The cold sweat.
The metallic stink of blood.
The way every hair on my body stood on end.
I remembered it—painfully, vividly.
And that was why—
“Hooh.”
—I could never let it happen again.
Better to die than feel that helplessness again.
Better to fall here, fighting, than live another day in fear.
“Truly… that heart of steel is no myth.”
I forced my legs to move. My stance was clumsy, but firm.
Dwight’s voice rumbled.
“For a mere 「Sword Walker」 to bare his fangs before a 「Sword Expert」—I’m honestly impressed.”
“……”
“But that’s not enough. Show me more.”
“Show me—your path!”
I drew in a breath and swung. Mana surged. My Mana Heart thundered, flooding me with strength. Every slash I’d ever learned, every will I’d absorbed through my sword burned into this strike.
『The last thing I remember was a burning mansion.』Mary’s 「Needle」.
『The Free City of Crowley failed to live up to its name.』The nameless assassin’s Fang.
『The boy dreamed of becoming the hero.』Knight Fetel’s twilight.
『There is no paradise for the runaway.』Orc great warrior Beric’s Wild Instinct.
『My life was like a passing wind.』The wanderer’s Gale.
“Haa.”
All those blades intertwined within me.
All their wills fused into a single flawless strike.
And yet—
“Incredible. That swing was like watching ghosts. I can’t even guess how many blades were in it.”
“……”
“But…”
None of them reached him.
The wall before me remained unbroken.
“In the end, they’re just the blades of ghosts, aren’t they? Forgotten lives that left no mark on history.”
The one wounded was me.
My hand trembled violently.
My grip weakened.
My head spun; my knees nearly gave out.
My stomach twisted in nausea.
Mana shock.
The backlash of clashing against mana is far denser than my own.
Pain rippled through me like my heart was being torn apart.
I’d already pushed my body to its limits using 「Gale」—now, with mana shock, it was a complete overload.
My flesh and bones felt like they were splintering.
It hurt. But—
“Haaa─!”
—I could endure it.
Pain was nothing compared to helplessness.
The agony only made me sharper, clearer, more alive.
“Enough ghosts. I want to see your sword—the sword of Karavan!”
The sword of Karavan. His words struck me.
Did such a thing exist?
“If all Karavan could do was devour the swords of others, how could your clan ever have stood at the pinnacle of an era? Mimicking dead blades is a trick, nothing more. The true power of Steel Blood lies elsewhere!”
I had learned much from my master. But never that.
“Show me, descendant of Steel!”
Not knowing, I could only show what I did know.
I sliced mana thin—shaping it into a line. The unbreakable Path of Steel.
“Sharp, for your level. But against legend? Worthless!”
The line shattered instantly.
The unstoppable Path… stopped.
My second strike had failed.
“Show me true Steel─!”
The sword might break. No, my body might.
If my body was made of iron, then now it was rusted thin—fragile enough to shatter at a child’s touch.
「Young descendant.」
I could not retreat. Even if I broke here, I would not step back.
「Are you confused?」
I could not allow myself—or anyone—to grant me permission to fall.
「They ask you to show what you don’t know. Confusing, isn’t it?」
“……”
「Each martial house has its secret sword—its own techniques, its own steps, its own breath. But all I taught you was Steel. That’s why you’re lost, isn’t it?」
If I didn’t know—then I would swing anyway.
If I didn’t understand—then I would fight anyway.
That much, I knew for sure.
「I never taught you our family’s unique sword, or its steps, or its breath. Nothing concrete, nothing certain.」
“……”
「And that confuses you, doesn’t it?」
My third strike failed to cut through the armor.
「There’s no need for confusion, young descendant.」
Disappointment began to cloud Dwight’s face.
「Trust in what you’ve learned. In your sword. Trust in the teachings of your great master, who painted the darkest age in steel. Trust in me. And…」
“……”
「Trust in yourself.」
Even through his helm, I saw it—his disappointment.
「Trust in your father, who was maddened by battle yet protected you to the end. Trust in your mother, frail and gentle, who clung to life just to keep you safe. Trust in the Steel that runs through your veins.」
Was this truly the extent of Karavan?
Was it all just myth and ashes?
「Even tarnished steel does not break.」
It didn’t matter. Whether Dwight was disappointed, whether legends crumbled—it didn’t matter.
「Swordsmanship isn’t a technique. It isn’t how you swing, how you step, or how you breathe.
What matters most is who swings it.」
I was still standing. Exhausted, but upright.
My vision blurred, but my eyes stayed open.
Then I would fight.
「Picture the summit you wish to reach. When you stand there, what will you wield? To face the Swordmaster you hate most—what do you need?」
“……”
「To cut down this unjust world that steals your happiness, what kind of sword must you forge?」
Thud.
Dwight moved his foot.
The ground shook, the vibration running up through me. His cold gaze pierced me. But I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t move back. I simply raised my sword.
“Three strikes are done. I’m… disappointed.”
I wasn’t listening to him anymore.
I was listening to the question inside me.
The man before me was no longer Dwight. Not a 「Sword Expert」, not a dwarf, not a general.
“Perhaps the trial was too harsh.”
What kind of sword could cut down everything that tormented me? The moment that question formed, I saw a clear sky. A brilliant blue sky, dotted with white clouds and birdsong.
“Next time we meet, I hope you won’t disappoint me.”
Even on that day—when I lost everything—the sky had looked just like this.
My father’s head hung from a flagpole.
My mother lay still, her face at peace.
Their armor and helmets shattered, scattered across the dirt.
Even then, the sky had been blue.
The sun had risen bright and merciless, illuminating the tragedy with the same light that shone on everyday life.
And now, in that remembered sky, the sun changed. It was no longer calm. It grew immense—its flames fierce and violent, burning as if to incinerate the world.
“May it be so…”
And the instant I imagined it—heat roared through me.
A searing, all-consuming fire.
For a moment, I was the flame—burning, melting, devouring.
“……?”
Was the thing in my hand a sword—or a blaze?
“What… is this…?”
I couldn’t tell. It was too hot to hold.
If I simply kept gripping it, it would burn my hand, my body, my very heart.
To survive, I had only one choice—Before I was consumed, I had to burn everything that tormented me.
My enemies.
My hatred.
And—
「Now that’s more like it. Congratulations, young descendant.」
—this unfair world that took everything from me.
「From this moment forth, you’ve stepped into the realm of Mystery.」
***
“The duel is over!”
Silence fell. Dwight stood still.
“The victors of this Race Duel—the dwarves of the Sky Mountains!”
He held the 444-tag in his hand. Cheers erupted in the distance. But Dwight heard none of it.
“For the first time in decades, the dwarves claim victory! Let us all celebrate this glorious triumph!”
Dwight looked down at the fallen youth. At the shattered blade in his hand. Silver fragments glinted faintly in the dirt. Broken, lifeless. And yet—
“…The legend wasn’t a lie.”
The fragments weren’t just scattered on the ground.
Trembling, Dwight raised his hand to his armor—his invincible black-iron armor that no elf elder or orc champion had ever scratched. Over his heart—There, embedded deep.
“…The words of our ancestors were true. Poor fools that we are.”
A shard of the sword.
A single sliver of its edge, driven into the thickest plate.
A 「Sword Walker’s」 blade had pierced a 「Sword Expert’s」 armor.
No—perhaps that wasn’t quite right.
At the final moment, before the boy fell, Dwight had seen it.
“It’s not over yet.”
That face twisted in defiance.
The clumsy sword raised high. And behind him—beyond his broken armor and tattered form—something faint had unfurled.
Something he’d never seen in all his life.
Something unimaginable. And yet unmistakable.
Wings.
“……The Age of Steel isn’t over yet.”
The greatest wings he had ever seen.
Wings of Steel.
***
「Designation: Gale」
「A broken sword containing the life of the wanderer of the Great Land.」
「Imbued with the Mystery of Wind.」
「Assimilation complete.」
.
.
.
「The Steel Blood is hungry.」
「Consume a new sword.」