Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 73 : Chapter 73

Chapter 73. Seol Yoon (2)
Despite Han’s long resistance, its fall came in an instant.
The 「Guardian Dragon」—the savior spoken of only in the founding legends—had descended, but the Descendant of Khan, a war god incarnate, dragged the dragon down from the sky to the earth. The Guardian Dragon bled and died, and with it, the last walls of the humble peninsula collapsed.
When the Conquest Army of the 「Great Land」 finally entered Han, they raged as if to repay every humiliation they had ever suffered. From the capital to the smallest village, everything burned. Their blades spared neither the old nor the young, neither men nor women. Death came equally to all.
Even the mercenary bands from the greedy 「Black Peninsula」’s Red Bank, and the Iron Legion of the Iron Kingdom of Cherville, who joined the war without allegiance or cause, took part. They scrambled through the ruined nation to snatch whatever profit remained.
Ironically, their participation was a twisted kind of mercy for Han’s people.
Unlike the Conquest Army, which slaughtered indiscriminately, the foreign soldiers—marching under the guise of “reinforcements”—took women and children as prisoners instead. Thus, the survivors made their choice by the flags they saw: Run, or raise their hands and surrender.
“Live, child.”
That defeated soldier had shown young Seol Yoon the only path left to her. The emaciated man never spoke of the war’s glory, nor of valor or courage. He only apologized—quietly, endlessly—as if the ruin of his nation were his own sin.
Seol Yoon had once asked him with hollow eyes, “Will you teach me the sword?”
Then she told him the story her father had once told her—the legend of the Immortals.
The soldier, warming himself by a campfire, had chuckled softly at that absurd tale. Yet he never said that Immortals didn’t exist, nor that it was foolish to believe.
“My sword’s worthless. I didn’t survive because I was strong—but because I was too much of a coward to die.”
“……”
“But still… if I can give you even a shred of my sword, I’ll do it. If anything I have can help you, it’s yours. Maybe that’ll count as my atonement.”
Indeed, the soldier’s swordsmanship was crude—pitiful, even.
“There’s a paradise where those we love still live, where the days we long for still exist,” he once said with a faint smile.
“That’s a finer world than any heaven promised by the Nine Goddesses or the Seven Lords.”
He had been an optimist. Had there been no war, he said, he would have become a scholar—a man who admired the beauty of nature and composed poetry beneath the clouds.
Once, as they traveled, Seol Yoon saw him washing himself in a river. His body was covered not just in scars, but in rot. His flesh had decayed in patches, not from weapons but from disease.
“It’s leprosy,” he said without shame. “They call us lepers.”
“……”
“I caught it hiding in a leper colony—trying to stay alive. Funny thing, really. Maybe it’s the reason I’ve survived this long. The proud warriors of the Great Land are terrified of lepers, ha ha.”
He was a dying man. Only later did Seol Yoon see how frail he truly was. But she didn’t avoid him. She didn’t recoil.
Each day, the soldier weakened. His voice still sounded young, but his face aged rapidly, and his body withered like an old man’s.
And every day, he repeated the same words:
“No matter how cruel the world, no matter how painful—live.”
It became his refrain.
“If you live… you’ll see tomorrow.”
“……”
“No one knows what tomorrow holds. If you want to reach that paradise, if you want to become an Immortal, first—you must live.”
Seol Yoon cared for him as he waned, witnessing for the first time the process of death.
She saw, in excruciating detail, the slow collapse of the one man who had pulled her from ruin.
From that day forward, Seol Yoon could no longer ignore the suffering.
A human teetering between life and death—there was nothing more pitiful.
Even as his body decayed, the soldier always apologized. Sometimes he wept like a child.
But Seol Yoon never thought him ugly, nor pitied him with contempt.
What she came to hate was the world itself—the merciless world that crushed them so.
Time passed. And one day, a new army appeared before them.
But the flag they carried did not belong to the 「Great Land」.
It bore the crest of the Iron Kingdom of Cherville.
The Iron Legion.
***
The reason the Conquest Army of the 「Great Land」 was considered the most powerful force among all ground armies was simple. The Great Land controlled nearly all the Eastern Continent—and its vast territory came with an equally vast population. With that population, they could field an army so immense that witnesses described its advance as “a human tide.”
Moreover, that army moved as one under a single absolute leader—the Descendant of Khan, a being revered as divine. With but a word, he could command millions. His soldiers did not fear death.
Thus, the true terror of the Conquest Army lay not merely in its size, but in the presence of the Descendant of Khan himself. Even without him, however, they remained a nightmare: overwhelming numbers, bolstered by the Great Warriors of the Plains—elite horsemen interspersed among their ranks.
“Haaah!”
To hold formation at all, those Great Warriors had to be dealt with.
I could call forth the 「Guardian Dragon」 again and crush them—but wasting a summoning now would be foolish.
There was still far too much time left. And this much, I could handle.
Maia will keep Seol Yoon occupied. I should move quickly while she does.
I drew a breath.
Following the revealed 「Path」, I became wind.
My sword carved its arc, cutting through lives one after another. The sea of soldiers surged toward me, yet I alone ran against their tide. Each time my blade spun, a whirlwind followed—and men fell in waves.
“There he is!”
The enemy had decided not to ignore me any longer.
Spears flew. I barely dodged them before arrows rained down.
Empowered by the strength of the superhuman, I moved beyond human limits—flipping backward through the air to evade. In that moment, I heard chanting. Magic. I couldn’t tell what kind—but it didn’t matter.
I had learned how to cut through spells themselves, ever since my fight with the black mage Jerry Selfit.
“Haa—”
I sliced through the 「Path」 of the spell.
The unfolding magic dispersed, leaving confusion on the enemies’ faces.
Then I invoked 「Wild Instinct」—spinning wide, cutting down all who surrounded me. Kicking a fallen spear into the air, I caught it mid-spin and hurled it, killing another soldier. Every object, every motion on this chaotic battlefield became a weapon. That was also 「Wild Instinct」.
A crack echoed—a Great Warrior fell.
Then, with eyes blazing, another charged.
I awakened 「Gale」. I wasn’t aiming for him, but for his horse. If I disrupted the rhythm of its gallop, he’d fall—But his spear struck faster than my wind.
“Kh!”
I barely caught it with my blade, but couldn’t fully deflect the force—I was thrown back, dust scattering as the warrior laughed.
“So this is the sword said to be haunted! Is this all your ghost can do?”
I spat blood.
He’s fast. Damnably fast.
The real problem wasn’t the warrior’s skill—it was his horse.
Armored in blue steel, the beast moved like a living storm, almost monstrous in speed. His thrusts carried the horse’s full momentum—each one powerful enough to shatter my blade, had it not been forged from Winter Steel.
How do I deal with this?
A troublesome opponent indeed.
And then—The 「Dragon Sword」 trembled again.
『…This…』
The voice was faint, indecipherable. Yet the sword kept calling, desperate to be heard.
『…The star…』
But I had no time to listen. Doubt opened its eyes within me—reading meaning into every motion of the Great Warrior, predicting his next move.
Following the drawn 「Path」, I struck.
Steel met steel with a resounding clang.
Ordinarily, I would have been the one pushed back.
But—『In a book of the Western Lands… I once read a line.』
My heart was steel. Unless the gap was truly immense, my sword held dominance in a direct clash. Surprise flashed across the warrior’s face—he hadn’t expected such weight.
『Those words, written upon white paper, captured my life perfectly.』
I lowered my stance and swung again. The blue-armored horse’s legs were severed. Blood fountained as the beast screamed, pitching forward. As its rider’s balance broke, I drove my blade through his skull.
“GRAAAAH—!”
But there were countless others.
I raised my sword—But one blade could not cut them all.
A sting at my neck—a shallow wound. Another across my shoulder. Even as blood trickled down, the 「Dragon Sword」 continued to speak—and now, its voice was clear.
『It was written thus:』
The voice was solemn, resonant, and gentle.
Killing intent swarmed around me.
My heart burned as though aflame.
And then—
『How happy was the age when one could look upon the starry sky, and read the map of the path one could—and must—follow?』
Before I knew it, I had drawn the 「Dragon Sword」.
『How happy was the age when the starlight illuminated that path so brightly?』
As though the sword itself had guided my hand.
『I longed for the Age of Stars—not this age of war.』
***
Valkyries.
Seol Yoon knew of them—Warriors among the northern barbarians, the greatest of their kind. To bear the title “Valkyrie” was to stand at the summit of strength, and anyone who reached that summit was, inevitably, called a genius.
This Valkyrie was no different.
She had likely been praised for her talent from childhood, proven herself early, trained relentlessly, and risen to greatness through sheer will.
Seol Yoon believed that the truest conversation between warriors was spoken through the sword. And in the Valkyrie’s blade, she felt it—the woman’s struggle, her resolve, her burning life.
This warrior had never once been idle. She had always given everything.
And so—
“…The name Valkyrie suits you far better than it does me.”
This outcome was simply the difference in talent.
“Amazing. I was just a frog in a well. They called me a prodigy all my life. Said I was the first in centuries to become a Valkyrie at my age. But…”
“...I see.”
“It was all an illusion. I wasn’t a genius. You are what that word truly means.”
Valkyrie Maia laughed faintly.
“I envy you—chosen by the heavens to wield such a sword.”
Her left hand lay severed on the ground, crimson pouring from her wrist.
Seol Yoon’s voice was calm.
“There’s nothing to envy.”
Not a single wound marked her body.
“…It’s just the one thing I got in exchange for losing everything else.”
Not a single thing more.
***
「Time remaining until War Duel ends: 20:50:14」