Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 75 : Chapter 75

Chapter 75. Seol Yoon (4)
「The Dragon Sword you borrowed—it was merely a spiritual manifestation conjured by witches within this world. So whether you eat it, crush it, or breathe it in, it makes no difference. The real thing remains untouched outside.」
“…So there really won’t be a problem?”
「Well, that’s not entirely true. Once you devour that blade, the flame within it—the sword’s spirit—will be wholly absorbed into you. What’s left will be an empty relic, a lifeless trinket.」
“……”
「But what does that matter? No one has recognized its worth for hundreds of years. Better it fade inside you than continue gathering dust in obscurity.」
How shameless. Truly, the definition of brazen.
But—
“…You’re not wrong. I suppose the sword would prefer that too.”
「Of course. Becoming one with a Karavan is the highest honor any blade can dream of.」
That, he had to admit, wasn’t entirely false.
“Catch him! Don’t let that demon escape!”
The Conquest Army of the 「Great Land」 was in chaos. After I’d butchered several of their Great Warriors, they turned rabid in pursuit. Escaping was easy enough. We had our own lines—soldiers, defenders, and duelists who could serve as my shield. My brief absence would not cost the battle.
“Blade Demon! The Valkyrie’s fallen!”
“Ah, has she now?”
So Maia had lost. No surprise there.
There was never a world where she could defeat Seol Yoon in pure swordsmanship. Against that kind of innate brilliance, only divine interference could tip the scales.
So I wasn’t worried.
“Anyway—does anyone have fire? A torch, a forge, a brazier—anything burning?”
Because I had preparations to make.
***
As the war duel dragged on, both sides finally began to understand why the Conquest Army of the Great Land had been considered unstoppable in recorded history.
Even without the Heir of Khan among them, the army’s sheer presence was overwhelming.
Han’s defenses were mighty; in territory wars, defenders always held the advantage. From the walls, the defenders of Han rained death upon the invaders with relentless precision. But no matter how many died, the Conquest Army advanced. Their ranks seemed endless, their courage unnatural.
The longer the battle went on, the more the duelists on both sides began to think—are they infinite?
Wave after wave of soldiers. Even with thousands slain, their numbers didn’t dwindle.
It was maddening.
At the same time, Liam—the Blade Demon—had disappeared from the front.
He’d gone looking for fire.
Then, the heavens split open.
The Guardian Dragon descended once again, roaring across the battlefield. Its arrival turned the tide, granting Han’s soldiers a momentary reprieve. But everyone knew—they could only call upon that dragon three times. Two had been spent already.
The reprieve was short-lived.
The soldiers of Han fought bravely, but exhaustion and dread spread like rot.
How many more waves could they endure?
Even the duelists began to break.
Some warriors from the Great Land’s own side faltered—unable to keep fighting. Seeing Han’s defenders trembling, hearing the desperate cries of men who had lost everything—they couldn’t bring themselves to strike.
“Damn it all… I can’t do this anymore! Keep your Dragon Relic, I’m done!”
They dropped their weapons.
And were cut down almost immediately.
The Arena’s operators didn’t intervene.
Such disobedience—such despair—was part of the spectacle.
***
Time passed.
The battle grew dirtier, slower, and real.
Viewers watching from outside the spiritual world could feel it too.
This wasn’t the romanticized war of epic songs.
This was the suffocating, senseless attrition of real warfare.
“This balance feels off.”
“The Conquest Army’s numbers haven’t dropped at all. If anything, they’ve increased with reinforcements.”
“They’re insane. Imagine—this is them without the Khan’s Heir leading.”
“Yeah. If the Heir were here, Han would’ve been dust already.”
“Hard to believe Han ever lasted even a day against these monsters in the real war…”
Some of the audience, who at first watched in fascination, now sat in uneasy silence.
It hit them that the Great Land’s army wasn’t just history—it was real.
Still out there. Still conquering.
The war that had devoured the Eastern Continent hadn’t truly ended—it had only paused.
“If not for the Sky Empire…”
A collective shudder rippled through the watchers.
Between the continents, the Sky Empire of Velma stood—an unbroken power that had never lost a single war. Its might alone had halted the Conquest Army’s westward expansion.
Without them… the West would already be ash.
“So, who’s winning?”
“My money’s on the Conquest Army. The defenders are holding, but they’re running out of space.”
“Don’t be so sure. Once they reach the wall, breaking it’s another story. Territory battles always favor the defenders.”
“Maybe. Hard to say.”
The debates went on.
But among all the chaos, one thing was clear.
“Regardless of the outcome—one duelist’s already stolen the show.”
“Agreed.”
“What was her title again…?”
They turned their gaze back to the battlefield—to the woman cutting through soldiers like a black flame, her blade dancing in silver arcs.
“…The Black Bride.”
***
To Seol Yoon, wielding a sword was like dreaming.
When she fought, the noise in her heart faded.
The memories, the guilt, the endless grief—all vanished.
Only silence remained.
In that silence, she was free.
No one in the world was freer than Seol Yoon when her sword was drawn.
“Ghh—!”
But freedom could be dangerous.
When she entered that trance, she sometimes lost control.
Her teachers had argued over what to call it—genius, or madness.
Now, for the first time in ages, Seol Yoon let that madness run wild. Her dark hair swirled. Her blade traced perfect, deadly circles. And every motion stole a life.
The battlefield grew quiet around her—save for the clash of steel and the ripping of flesh.
The voices that had haunted her—the apologies, the cries, the memories—were gone.
Only the music of war remained.
“Damn—she’s a demon—!”
An enemy lunged. Her body moved before thought.
A flick of the wrist, a graceful twist—and another body fell, bisected cleanly.
To watch her fight was to witness art made of death.
Her blade wasn’t fast—it was inevitable.
Every swing drew a path that must end in death.
Each time she cut, at least one life was extinguished.
And as the corpses piled, the survivors began to tremble.
Their fear fed her rhythm.
Their despair sharpened her edge.
Yet amid the carnage, Seol Yoon felt something strange.
Emptiness.
Even with her newfound wings—this transcendent power—she felt no joy.
Why?
Why did it feel hollow?
Wasn’t this what I wanted?
The answer eluded her.
The truth was cruel: she’d never fought for power or victory. She’d fought for meaning. And meaning could not be found in slaughter.
Her sword had always been a path to heaven—to the paradise she still hoped existed.
Not a weapon for vengeance.
But then—
“Look! The sky—it’s opening!”
A voice broke through her trance.
“The Guardian Dragon! It’s descending again!”
The third—and final—summon.
She looked up.
Through the clouds, the Dragon roared. And beyond it—racing through the lines of soldiers—was a young man.
His aura burned bright, defiant, unbroken.
The Blade Demon.
Liam Karavan.
Arhan.
And with his appearance—the emptiness in her heart cracked.
Her chest tightened.
Her pulse quickened.
“Ah…”
It wasn’t dreadful this time.
It was—anticipation.
A warmth she’d forgotten how to feel.
For the first time, she didn’t push it down.
She let it live.
“…You’re late.”
Her lips curved.
“Little gladiator.”
And Seol Yoon smiled—not in despair, but in welcome.
***
I raised the sword in my hand.
The Dragon Sword was gone—because I had devoured it completely.
But gone didn’t mean lost. Its essence burned within me.
“Huuh…”
『To gaze upon the star-lit heavens, to read the map of the paths one may take—how happy were those who lived in that age.』
I closed my eyes.
The world became a firmament—dark below, stars above.
『How happy was the age when the light of the stars still illuminated our way.』
And in that darkness, I saw a man. Holding a lantern. Guiding the lost.
『I long for the age of stars.』
The people called him—King.