Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 92 : Chapter 92

Chapter 92 — The Idler (6)
The Recovery Room of the Arena was eerily silent. Within that heavy stillness, the Iron Prince walked toward me, unhurried.
“…What kind of reward are you planning to give me?”
“Who knows.”
I glared at the Iron Prince’s faintly grinning face. Right — before the Infinite Duel began, he had promised that if I entertained him, he would grant me a reward. But I hadn’t expected him to personally show up to deliver it.
“Is there anything you want?”
“If I say there is… would you actually give it to me?”
“Of course. You’ve amused me. What could I possibly withhold from you?”
The Iron Prince stepped closer.
“Money, fame, women — name what you desire. In this Iron Kingdom, there is nothing I cannot grant. This nation, built upon steel and blood, is my domain. Everything here bends to my will.”
And those words weren’t bravado. In the Iron Kingdom of Cherville, the name of Iron Prince Ian Cherville carried more weight than perhaps even the name of the current king. Even if the entire Iron Legion rose against him, they would never overcome his executioner.
“Why so silent? If there’s something you desire, speak.”
Ian Cherville kept walking closer. He was now well within reach of my sword. The blade lay beside my bed — if I picked it up and swung now, its tip could cut through his throat. The Iron Prince would not even react in time. Even if my level as a 「Sword Walker」 seemed insignificant among true swordsmen, that was only in comparison to swordsmen.
To kill someone who doesn’t know the sword — that was almost too easy. Two seconds? No, less than one. The moment I resolved to kill, countless Lines would surge from my body. Whichever Line I chose, it would lead without fail to Ian Cherville’s death. He wouldn’t even know how he died.
But—
‘…You’re not alone today, are you?’
That thought froze me.
From outside the Recovery Room, I felt a presence so overwhelming it could not even be gazed upon. I hadn’t moved; I’d merely thought of killing. Yet, as though my murderous intent had been read, that presence revealed itself.
“Is there truly nothing you want?”
There were ten swords waiting beyond the door. And guessing whose they were required no effort.
“How could a lowly duelist dare to ask anything of the Iron Prince? Whatever you choose to bestow upon me, I shall accept it gratefully — as befits a lowborn.”
The Greatest Swordsman of the Continent.
The strongest Swordmaster alive.
The monster who had forged ten swords within his soul.
My teacher had once said he was a man who belonged only to the War Era — a Swordmaster born in the wrong age. The invincible executioner who served the Iron Prince.
“Good. I like your attitude.”
My enemy. Swordmaster Carlos — was standing right beyond that door.
“I anticipated this, and I prepared a gift for you myself.”
If I wished, I could grab the sword beside the bed right now and cut down the Iron Prince. But my instincts told me otherwise. No matter what I did, my blade would never touch even a single strand of his hair. I didn’t know how that would happen — only that it would.
I would die. Without fail.
“…What kind of gift?”
The air grew dense. Breathing became difficult. My stomach turned, as if I might vomit. Even so, I feigned calm and asked. The Iron Prince grinned.
“The gift you need most.”
“And what might that be?”
At my question, he took another step closer — until his face was nearly touching mine. Yet I couldn’t move a single finger. It felt as though invisible chains bound me.
Smiling with delight at my frozen state, the Iron Prince spoke.
“Tell me, lowly duelist — why do you think I came all the way to this reeking city of steel in person?”
“To enjoy some entertainment, perhaps?”
“Correct. And the reason I wished to indulge in a bit of entertainment was that soon, I’ll be quite busy. Before starting something truly interesting, I wanted to enjoy a little diversion.”
“……”
“Duelist, the Sword Demon… I will soon bring a new storm of blood upon this Iron Kingdom.”
His eyes gleamed.
“A storm far beyond the last. No — not a mere storm. A maelstrom. The moment I return to Blade City, I shall raise it. A maelstrom that will sweep everything away, leaving not even ashes behind.”
“……”
“It will tear apart the nobles who think my purge is over. It will swallow the father who weeps upon the throne. It will rip out the roots of the weak hiding on the fringes. And do you think it will end there? No. The maelstrom I raise will drag in the entire continent. The Five Great Houses will be drawn in. The Six Free Cities and the Black Archipelago will be drawn in. Even the Sky Empire will be drawn in. The whole world will spiral together — until all seven races are tangled in blood and ruin.”
Madness flickered in his eyes.
“It will be beautiful. Delightful. They will endure longer than my pitiful siblings, who died so easily. Longer than the fathers and mothers who begged for their lives before me…”
Hearing that, Liam’s voice murmured faintly within me.
「He’s insane.」
“……”
「Young descendant, you probably can’t even comprehend what that reckless prince just said. Of course you can’t — there’s still too much you don’t know.」
Liam’s tone grew heavy.
「The Iron Prince means to resurrect the War Era — the blood-soaked age that was the most horrific in all of the continent’s long history.」
The War Era.
The word lodged deep in my mind as the Iron Prince continued.
“Now do you understand what reward I mean to give you?”
He wore a twisted smile — the smile of a devil out of creation myths.
“I will let you board that maelstrom early.”
His voice brimmed with malice.
I answered flatly.
“How is that a reward?”
It was a sincere question.
He was talking about dragging me into a world-scale disaster — how the hell was that a gift? That wasn’t a reward; it was one colossal act of spite.
The Iron Prince didn’t reply — he just laughed. A low, mocking “Pu-hu-hu.” And after a long moment, he said:
“Duelist, I know your origin.”
For an instant, my mind went blank.
“Karavan — the forgotten blood of Strong Iron.”
“……”
“History says the blood of Strong Iron grows harder through trials. So the trial I’ll bestow upon you — what could be more precious than that? A gift worth bowing in gratitude for!”
Karavan. The moment that name left his lips, my head went numb. But regardless of my shock, he went on.
“You can’t imagine my joy when I learned your lineage. My siblings, who should have shared my blood, were too fragile. My parents, who should have been superior, now cower before me. They begged for their lives, saying they would do anything. They surrendered without even fighting. There is nothing more dreadful — or boring — than that.”
“……”
“Even if I sit upon the Iron Throne, I will never be satisfied. The moment I realized how light this throne is, I knew I could no longer be content with it. So I decided — I will claim a greater world. Sit upon a heavier, worthier throne. One that makes all blades in the world point toward me!”
The man before me no longer looked human. He was a monster — his eyes burning with a malice far too deep.
“To me, you are a gift from the Nine Goddesses and the Seven Lords. A toy granted so I might never grow bored. Ah, what a blessing indeed — the last of the Karavans! There could be no finer plaything.”
“……”
“So don’t break. Don’t get crushed in the maelstrom. Grow properly, and keep threatening me. Don’t shatter like my siblings. Don’t kneel like my parents. That is why you’re still alive—”
That was as far as I could endure. Before thought could catch up, my body moved. A roar tore from my throat as my broken body flared with power. My Mana Heart ignited — my second heart pounding violently. Dozens, hundreds of Lines appeared — paths to kill the Iron Prince.
I chose the most direct one, grabbed the blade beside my bed, and swung without hesitation.
The sound of the sword — sharp and wild — rang like a beast’s cry. And then—
“You’re far too early.”
Before the swing even finished, my sword vanished from my hand. When I blinked, the blade was already sheathed. My body, once risen, was lying back beneath the blanket — as if time itself had been rewound.
“Be thankful you’re not yet past eighteen.”
“……”
“I told you before — you keep hating the wrong things. You keep raging at the wrong things.”
That voice wasn’t the Iron Prince’s.
I knew exactly whose it was.
How could I forget the voice that had haunted me since that day?
Slowly, I raised my head. Beside the still-smiling Iron Prince stood a man who hadn’t been there a moment ago. His face was devoid of emotion — just as it had been that day.
“Hate your family. Hate the Karavan name. Hate your foolish parents who dared to live quietly, still raising children as if they were safe. Understand?”
Swordmaster Carlos.
“You… bastard—”
“What a funny sight. Your father looked just like that when he died, his head stuck on a flag. Pretending to be some maddened knight, then whining like a dog when his woman was killed — glaring at me but doing nothing else. Pathetic.”
No rage I had ever felt could compare. That man — of all people — had no right to speak of my parents. No right to mention my father’s final moments. No right to utter my mother’s name.
The fury seared through my skull and heart like a blazing inferno. Yet I couldn’t move. It wasn’t a matter of will — something incomprehensible bound me. Those ten swords shackled me like chains.
As I glared, veins bursting in my eyes, the Iron Prince spoke.
“Good. Don’t forget that anger. Understand?”
“……”
“Grow stronger. Strong enough to make me tremble in fear — then come and aim your blade at me. I’ll be waiting, with joy.”
With those words, the Iron Prince turned to leave. Carlos followed. As he walked out, he didn’t even glance my way. He looked at me as one might look at a rock by the roadside — or a worthless insect.
***
“How long will it take to return?”
“Shall we walk back as we came, Your Highness?”
“No. I’ve walked enough. Let’s take the fastest way.”
At the heart of the Iron City of Ferma, the Iron Prince Ian Cherville looked up at the sky and smiled.
Dark clouds loomed overhead, heavy with impending lightning.
“Ah, things will be entertaining now. Truly entertaining.”
He almost wished for rain — just like the day his siblings had died by his own hand. Lost briefly in memory, he spoke again.
“Did you do as I ordered?”
“Yes, exactly as commanded.”
“Our precious youngest hasn’t even passed eighteen yet. I’m curious — how did you manage it? No matter how sharp your sword is, could you really follow my orders without leaving even a scratch?”
Carlos answered calmly.
“Yes. You need not worry. It was handled perfectly.”
***
The Six Free Cities.
Among the grand estates of those free and dazzling city-states stood the most opulent mansion of them all — the Rhapsody estate.
There, a boy drenched in blood staggered to the gates. The blood was not his own. In his arms, he carried the severed head of an old man, eyes still open.
The boy stumbled and fell again and again, sobbing wretchedly. Hearing his cries, the retainers of the Rhapsody family rushed out to drive off the intruder — but when they saw his face, they froze in horror.
“Young master… what on earth—”
The noblest boy in the Six Free Cities, the youngest son of the Rhapsody family — Toma Rhapsody — was weeping like a child.
As the retainers tried to lift him, they noticed what he was holding. And gasped.
“Merciful heavens.”
Joseph. The severed head in Toma’s arms belonged to Joseph — the loyal butler who had served the Rhapsody family all his life.
Panic rippled among the retainers.
Who could have done this?
Who dared harm their young master — and kill a servant of Rhapsody?
“Hic… hick… Joseph, Joseph…”
“Please, young master, calm yourself—”
“H-hhh…”
Toma was in total shock, unable to speak properly. His pitiful sobs echoed through the estate — reaching the ears of the great master of the Rhapsody family.
The moment he heard his son’s cries, the great man appeared before him.
“You must have been terrified.”
“Hhic… hhhk…”
“I’m sorry, my son. I’m so sorry.”
The towering man pulled his child into a tight embrace, ignoring the blood that stained his fine clothes. Nothing else mattered.
“Come now. Let’s get you inside, to a warm bed.”
The Master of House Rhapsody.
“Hear me out slowly, my son. Tell your father what happened.”
Hugo Rhapsody.
“No matter who it was, no matter what happened… your father will take care of everything.”
“Hhic… Father… Father…”
“There, there. Don’t you worry.”
One of the Six Swordmasters of the Continent.
“There is nothing in this world your father cannot do.”
The Master of the Seven Swords.
The most dangerous father on the continent had begun to stir.
***
I didn’t need to stay in the Recovery Room much longer.
The blood of Strong Iron quickly restored my body, and soon I could move again.
When I rose, a representative from the Arena came to me. They offered two rewards for winning the Infinite Duel.
The first — to become an exclusive fighter for the Arena, earning a Platinum Medal and a life of fame and luxury, starring in the main events.
I didn’t even have to think about it. That was a reward that only benefited the Arena, not me. And I had no interest in wasting time in comfort.
‘I want to grow stronger. As quickly as possible.’
The flames left by the Iron Prince and Carlos still burned within me — the fire of fury growing brighter by the minute.
So I chose the second reward. A lump sum of iron gold coins — equivalent to five major event prizes — and a certification that would allow me to buy all Iron City goods at a steep discount.
The representative tried to persuade me to think long-term instead of taking “quick money.” I didn’t listen.
I took the gold and deposited it all in the 「Red Bank」 that very day. Just like that, I became rich beyond anything I’d ever imagined — enough to abandon revenge, sail off to the Free Cities or the Black Archipelago, and live a life of indulgence.
But it meant nothing. No wealth, no pleasure could interest me now.
My mind was consumed by one thing alone — becoming stronger.
「Young descendant.」
“Yes.”
「Are you impatient?」
“I am.”
I couldn’t forget that moment — Carlos’s cold eyes, his voice dripping with contempt, the Iron Prince’s deranged laughter.
“I can’t endure it anymore. I can’t stand breathing the same air, living under the same sky as those monsters.”
「I understand.」
“What should I do? How—”
「You must have realized it by now.」
Liam cut me off and looked at me.
「You couldn’t understand before because you were too weak, but now you’ve felt it in your bones. Tell me, young descendant — through the eyes of a swordsman, what was it like to face a Swordmaster?」
I froze.
“…He was like the sky.”
「The sky?」
“No matter what I did, I could never reach him. That’s how it felt.”
Carlos had been far too strong — so strong that I’d almost forgotten my hatred in sheer awe.
He existed in another world entirely.
Perhaps that was why my heart burned with such urgency — because the gap was so vast.
「That’s the right way to put it. He’s in the sky. And you — you’re still nothing more than an insect crawling on the ground.」
“……”
「So then, shouldn’t you take your first step off the ground?」
As I lowered my head, Liam’s voice came softly.
「Let’s go home.」
“……”
「We’ll forge wings.」
I slowly raised my head.
「So that you may draw just a little closer to the sky.」