Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 96 : Chapter 96

Chapter 96 — The Domain (4)
“Souls in blades? What nonsense is that?”
Nonsense. That was what everyone called it.
“You must’ve been listening to tavern gossip again. Don’t let such rumors distract you — focus on your next match instead! The entire Iron City chants your name. A duelist on the verge of becoming a Sword Expert? That’s a miracle, Tom. The whole Iron Kingdom will know who you are.”
To them, a blade was just a blade. A tool — nothing more.
Souls belonged to the seven races blessed by the Nine Goddesses and the Seven Lords. Only bodies of flesh and blood could contain souls. And when those bodies died, the souls returned to the gods.
That was common sense.
“By tomorrow, you’ll have achieved an honor no duelist in history has ever touched. No one will ever again look down on us as mere brawlers. No one will call our duels the games of the lowborn. You, Tom, will change history.”
The pat on his shoulder still felt vivid in memory.
Tom, in his youth, could still recall the fever of that day. Everyone’s hopes, everyone’s faith, everyone’s cheers — all of them were for him.
It was, without question, the greatest moment of his life. And yet…
“...I’m sorry.”
He had disappointed them all. At the very height of his glory — when the entire arena roared his name — Tom’s eyes had been elsewhere.
Not on the bright stage of honor… but on the dim, forgotten corner beneath it. A shadowed space that smelled of rust and mold. A glass case filled with ancient, neglected blades.
That was where his heart had been.
“That’s not the future I want.”
Even at his peak, Tom’s gaze was fixed solely on one place.
The Hall of Honor.
***
When Hailyn first mentioned an orc shaman, Audrey thought the girl had simply misunderstood something.
A human who’s friends with an orc shaman? If her sisters had heard that, they would’ve doubled over laughing.
She asked Hailyn again and again, and each time the girl nodded earnestly — as if it were the most obvious truth in the world.
Audrey sighed. Clearly, the girl had mistaken some ordinary human shaman for an orc, or perhaps taken a joke from the Heir of Steel too literally.
Because the phrase “orc shaman” itself was almost an oxymoron.
Audrey, being a properly trained witch, knew better than anyone what shamans were like. Eccentric, volatile, often bordering on madness — and that was among humans.
Orc shamans, though… they were something else entirely.
The orcs were a race of pure violence — creatures who challenged anything that breathed to single combat.
A people who lived and died by the creed of battle, who settled every dispute through blood and strength. To mages, they were little more than monsters: savage, brutal, and incapable of reason.
And shamans? They were supposed to be beings of intellect — mediators between the material and the spiritual, guided by logic and discipline.
So an orc shaman was a contradiction — a paradox of violence and wisdom bound together. An unpredictable disaster waiting to happen.
Audrey still remembered one who had once visited her coven years ago — a “holy guest” who had nearly driven them mad.
He had mocked mages as “tricksters,” swung a bloodied axe while calling himself “the greatest warrior alive,” and drank animal blood to “honor the spirits.”
The witches had nearly fainted from disgust.
And yet, despite their barbarity, orc shamans were powerful. For an orc to ascend to spiritual mastery required talent vast enough to suppress the savagery in their blood.
That was why they were both feared and loathed — unstoppable forces wrapped in absurdity.
They didn’t reason.
They didn’t compromise.
Every other sentence was “I do not listen to the weak!”
And since they were monstrously strong, there was no way to make them listen by force either.
So, a human who was friends with such a creature?
Impossible.
Audrey decided there was only one way to confirm it — by seeing it herself.
Hailyn, delighted, promised to show her.
Show her? What exactly?
Still skeptical, Audrey followed Hailyn to the edge of the domain.
After a long walk, the girl stopped and pointed toward the ground.
“Here! The protective stone Lord Arhan received from the orc elder is buried right here. He said it was a gift from a friend.”
Audrey frowned.
A protective stone?
She had already sensed the faint shamanic barrier over the land when she arrived — that wasn’t surprising. But a stone, even a blessed one, hardly proved friendship.
Protective stones weren’t rare. Even witches sold such charms for modest prices. And orcs occasionally bartered them at markets, usually for outrageous sums.
If anything, it sounded like the Heir of Steel had bought the stone and jokingly called it a “gift from a friend.”
“Hailyn, just because he received a stone doesn’t mean—”
“Check it yourself,” Hailyn interrupted firmly.
Audrey blinked.
The girl was stubborn.
Fine, she thought. Then I’ll show her what an orc shaman really is.
Closing her eyes, Audrey extended her senses into the ground. Her spiritual world unfurled like a shimmering veil, touching the stone buried beneath.
It trembled immediately.
“Let’s see what we have here,” she murmured.
The moment her power filled the area, Hailyn instinctively shivered.
The playful, petty witch was gone. In her place stood the true Witch of the Sky Empire — serious, regal, and terrifying.
No matter her flaws, her magical strength was among the greatest in the continent.
With a flick of her fingers, Audrey drew the shamanic energy out of the stone, weaving it into her own mental realm.
Then she sent a psychic signal — an invitation.
A call to the entity bound to the charm.
Moments later, a signal returned.
And immediately—Her vision pulsed.
The strength of the returning presence made her mind reel.
‘…This isn’t ordinary.’
Even knowing that orc shamans were strong, this—This was something else entirely.
A chill ran down her spine.
Then came the voice.
A thunderous roar that rattled her spiritual world to its core.
「WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME, LITTLE HUMAN GIRL?! Did I not spare you before? I read the stars and saw no harm in you — and yet you DARE interrupt the great Sherdik when he is BUSY?!」
The sheer volume made Audrey’s skull throb. Even from the voice alone, she could feel the barbaric fury of an orc. And the headache that came with it. It was unmistakable.
Definitely an orc.
「What, has your husband failed you, so now you seek an orc’s company?! Ha! I may be mighty, but I do not touch the mates of others! Besides, I despise weak human women!」
“Haah…” Audrey pressed her fingers to her temple.
Vulgar, loud, blasphemous—Referring to the Sky Father Himself as “your husband.”
Every word screamed orc.
She didn’t even bother trying to lecture him. Threats of divine punishment meant nothing to a race who’d laugh while being struck by lightning.
All she wanted was to ask her question and cut the connection.
But then she froze.
“…Wait a second.”
That face.
That enormous green snout and wicked grin—She knew it.
“The Guardian of the Sacred Lands?”
「Oho! Human girl! So you know the great Sherdik, the Orc Shaman?!」
“...Who doesn’t?” she muttered.
At her side, Hailyn’s eyes widened in awe.
To her, everything happening was pure magic — literally. Just a few words, and the witch had summoned a spirit halfway across the world. And not just any spirit, but one she recognized.
‘She really is a witch of legend!’ Hailyn thought, eyes sparkling.
Meanwhile, Audrey sighed deeply, gazing at the massive spirit looming in her mental realm.
Sherdik. The Mad Shaman of the Stars.
A legend among spiritualists — infamous, dangerous, and powerful beyond measure.
How the Heir of Steel had come into possession of one of his stones was beyond comprehension.
But that settled it.
There was no way someone like this would ever be friends with a mere “Sword Walker.”
Confident now, Audrey finally asked her question.
“I just need to confirm something. Are you... friends with the Heir of Steel, Arhan Karavan?”
「Friends? Where did you hear such nonsense?」
Audrey smirked. Exactly as she expected.
「He is not my friend, human girl!」
Of course.
「He is my best friend! My blood brother! The great Heir of Steel proved his valor and fought like a true orcish warrior! I named him an honorary orc!」
“…What?”
Audrey froze.
「What’s wrong? Did something happen to my brother-in-battle? When I read the stars, they told me all was well! Speak, woman! Has he fallen? No, that cannot be! I was planning to marry him to my beautiful daughter, Sherrijik!」
For a long moment, Audrey could only stare.
Her mind went blank.
…What?
Somewhere in the distance, a headache she didn’t know how to describe began to bloom.
Truly, utterly—She was speechless.
* * *
With each movement, the boy’s form changed.
A gypsy dancing like a flame. A woman of the sword, fierce and radiant. Then, in a whirl of motion, her image faded—and another appeared.
A rogue’s dagger, lonely yet unyielding. A shadow’s blade that cuts with purpose, embodying the life of a man who once sought freedom, love, and meaning through battle and pain.
Then, a knight emerged. His sword—steady, noble, bathed in twilight.
Needle. Fang. Dusk. Wildheart. Gale. Lamp.
Six blades.
Six lives.
Six souls who had fought the world and left their marks upon it.
Now long gone, but never forgotten.
“Ah…”
When the sword dance ended, the sky was ink-black. Even moonlight could barely pierce the depth of night. Crickets sang softly as the boy stood silent.
Tom, frozen in place, stared at him—but what he saw wasn’t a boy.
He saw his own past reflected back. His youth, when he had turned from glory to obscurity.
The mockery, the loneliness, the endless polishing of forgotten relics.
The nights spent drunk and wondering if he’d been wrong. If the blades he loved were truly soulless.
“Ah…”
The boy said nothing.
He didn’t have to.
Tom understood.
He finally knew his years hadn’t been wasted.
How could anyone see what he’d just seen and still say that swords held no souls?
Tears slipped down his cheeks before he realized it.
An old man’s tears — foolish, perhaps, but honest.
And the boy didn’t laugh.
So Tom didn’t hide them.
“There… truly are souls,” he whispered.
The boy remained silent, bathed in moonlight.
“Why… why show this to an old man like me?”
“Because,” the boy said softly, “I’ve devoured every weapon I brought from the Hall of Honor. When you asked where they were, I couldn’t lie. I wanted you to see the truth. Those blades… are now a part of me.”
“You could’ve just made up an excuse,” Tom said gently. “Said you lost them. Or sold them. No one treasures old weapons anymore. I would’ve believed you.”
“I didn’t want to lie to a friend.”
The boy smiled.
“That’s all.”
Tom’s heart surged.
Decades of loneliness flashed through his mind — and for the first time, they meant something.
He’d been right.
He had proof.
And gratitude flooded through him.
“Young lord,” he said quietly, voice trembling, “you can’t imagine how thankful I am.”
He smiled through his tears.
“Right now, I want to do anything for you. Truly, anything. If I could, I’d steal every weapon from the Hall of Honor and bring them to you, just to see this wonder again. To feel this awe again.”
He paused.
“But that would only serve my desires, not my gratitude. To repay you properly, I must give something that will help you.”
Tom straightened.
“I’ve heard your story. If I were a Swordmaster myself, I’d have challenged the man who destroyed your life — that monster Carlos — to a duel for revenge.
“But I’m just an old man. My skills are nothing next to a Swordmaster’s.”
The boy didn’t reply.
“So instead, I’ll do what I can. You don’t need vengeance done for you. You need a blade that can soar higher, sharper, truer.
“The steel in your blood must be reforged.”
“Yes,” the boy said quietly. “That’s what I need.”
“Then I’ll help you.”
Tom, the caretaker of the Hall of Honor, felt something stir in him — something he hadn’t felt in decades.
He wasn’t just a caretaker tonight.
He was a duelist again.
“For all my frail skill,” he said, smiling, “I’ll do whatever I can to make you stronger.”
He squared his shoulders, eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“The first step,” he said, “is to help you unfurl your wings.”
He smiled.
“A Sword Expert, eh? For me, that’s not such a difficult thing.”
Decades ago, there hadn’t been a soul in the Iron Kingdom who didn’t know his name.
He had been a legend once. And tonight, under the pale moonlight, the legend stirred again.
“Truly,” he said, “I mean that.”
***
Beneath the same moonlight, Tom’s gaze was steady and resolute.
「Hm.」
I had only meant to speak the truth—but he’d ended up weeping and swearing himself to my aid.
Was it really that moving? Apparently, yes.
Because even my master’s dry voice rang amused in my mind.
「Jackpot.」
“…”
Yeah. That’s one way to put it.