Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 99 : Chapter 99

Chapter 99. Wings (2)
Training to become a 「Sword Runner」— It had been several days since I began that endless sparring under the guise of “guided training.” Ever since I had grasped the thread of understanding, I could feel my sword changing bit by bit with every sunrise and sunset.
The moment I felt the results of my training, motivation came naturally.
There was nothing more rewarding than visible progress.
Liam had been right.
My training process was like a blacksmith forging a sword. As a smith hammers metal into shape, I was being hammered down, refined, and reshaped. Into something new—harder, sharper, steadier.
“The plaza’s looking quite nice these days.”
Even the Karavan territory was changing. That was thanks to Hailyn and Audrey—a perfect partnership. Both were skilled mages, and mages made excellent administrators.
The landscape of the domain changed by the day. Even merchants had begun setting up stalls in the streets. That morning, I bought a bottle of milk—and it tasted good. It reminded me of the milk I used to drink as a child.
“Ah, Young Master! It’s thanks to you that I learned a great spell!”
“Thanks to me? What do you mean?”
“You’ll see! I got a really good teacher because of you!”
Hailyn said something mysterious. A teacher? Did that proud witch actually agree to teach her magic? When I looked at Audrey with a questioning face, she, as always, just sniffed proudly and refused to explain.
Hailyn smiled brightly and said,
“Look forward to it! I’ve learned a brand-new spell—or rather, a ritual. I’ll be testing it tonight, and I’ll definitely show you, Young Master!”
“Ah, sure.”
“Promise!”
Well, change and growth were always good things.
Watching Hailyn and Audrey leave, I headed toward the training grounds. There stood Seol Yoon—and the wretched wooden sword that had become my nemesis. Beside the nicked sword were dozens of broken ones.
“Shall we start again today?”
The dozens of wooden swords I had broken.
“Yes.”
Yes—change and growth were good.
And I, too, was changing. I was growing. Clearly.
***
The wings of a Sword Runner were, by nature, something like a mirage. They weren’t true physical organs, but manifestations of mana—a visualized form of the 「Road」. Sword Runners’ wings sprouted naturally the moment their mana began affecting the external world.
They were created by the resonance between one’s inner mana and the mana of nature.
Seol Yoon’s wings were like that. Fittingly for one who bore the Mystery of 「Thousandfold Change」, her wings constantly shifted—unstable yet perfect, incomplete yet complete.
They had no fixed shape, which meant they could become anything. Because of that, Seol Yoon’s mana tended to be lighter—capable of swift transformation. It was her one weakness.
Compared to swordsmen of her level, Seol Yoon’s mana was lighter. When she faced opponents equal or superior to her, she always suffered from mana shock. But she was well aware of that weakness. That was why she never fought head-on.
She used her opponents’ strength against them, employing ingenious transformations to disable her foes. It was the pinnacle of technique—a feat only a genius like her could achieve.
To Seol Yoon, Arhan’s current method looked nothing short of madness.
“…You’re trying to grow your wings from your Mana Heart? Instead of creating a new pair of wings outside your body, you’re connecting the Heart, the Road, and the Wings into one system? Why in the world would you do that…?”
Arhan had abandoned the conventional method—lightening his mana and separating it. Instead, he tried to form wings rooted in his heart, keeping his mana heavy and solid. Not creating something new, but developing and connecting what already existed.
When Seol Yoon realized that, she was horrified.
“If you fight someone stronger like that, and suffer mana shock, it won’t just be a light injury! Normally, you could fold your wings and avoid internal damage—but if everything’s connected, the backlash will reach your heart. It’s insanely dangerous!”
“I know.”
“Then why—why would you…?”
To her, Arhan’s actions were idiotic and reckless.
She thought he’d obsessed so long over “wings” that he’d gone off the deep end.
Why isn’t that immortal stopping him?
There was always that Sword Immortal watching over him. So why did that great being allow Arhan to make such a mistake? Seol Yoon couldn’t understand. But.
“Try crossing swords with me before saying more.”
When the spar began, she began to understand—just a little.
“…Huh?”
A brief exchange.
Just a few familiar clashes—moves they’d repeated dozens of times. But when it ended, Seol Yoon found herself dropping her sword.
No—she hadn’t dropped it.
She simply couldn’t hold it anymore.
She stared in shock at the fallen wooden blade. It was intact. Then she looked at her hands.
“…!”
Her palms were a wreck. The soft skin had torn and bled, her fingers were bruised black and numb. Before she even realized it, her hands had been ruined—she could barely even clench them, let alone hold a sword.
“What… is this?”
She frowned and looked at Arhan.
He hadn’t moved a step. Standing rooted to the ground like a statue, holding his sword steady.
To Seol Yoon’s eyes, he looked like a monument—a statue of steel erected in the heart of the city.
Even though his technique wasn’t yet complete, Arhan’s sword was abnormally firm—so solid it made her question if such hardness even belonged to a swordsman. Wiping the blood from her hands, she looked at him again—and then she understood.
“Arhan.”
“Yes.”
“…Your sword—who is it meant to fight?”
Seol Yoon’s sword was designed for duels between swordsmen.
She could mimic any swordsmanship after seeing it once, perfect it, and then evolve it even further.
She stole others’ skills, devoured them, and wielded them alongside 「Thousandfold Change」 to reign invincible among her peers. Her talent was divine.
To Seol Yoon, swordsmanship was a battle of wits and technical precision. After all, martial arts were created so the weak could fight the strong—so, naturally, when judging skill between swordsmen, technique mattered most.
That wasn’t just her opinion—it was common knowledge across the continent.
Once one surpassed a certain level, physical training lost importance. As long as the body met the basic threshold, it was enough. Even in formal academies, strength training was reserved for trainees below the 「Sword Beginner」 stage.
Technique—that was what mattered. How skilled was your sword art? How many moves could you read, how many could you execute? That was the essence of swordsmanship—everyone said so.
Those were the words Seol Yoon had heard all her life. The standard by which the continent measured swordsmen. But.
“Unreasonable.”
Arhan’s sword shattered that “common sense.”
“Incomprehensible.”
Technique? Crude.
If it were a pure test of skill, he would lose ten out of ten times to an academy graduate.
Tactical finesse? Nonexistent.
He had his sharp intuition and obsessive doubt, yes—but even that would crumble before refined sword arts.
To Seol Yoon, Arhan’s sword seemed primitive, even pitiful. And yet—
“In a world that takes away what you love without hesitation…”
She couldn’t imagine that sword breaking. No technique, no refinement, no beauty. Just a blade that would never yield, never bend, never fall—no matter the storm.
A sword that could withstand even the sundering of continents and the collapse of the sky.
Immovable steel.
“My sword is a sword to fight the world.”
Seol Yoon didn’t understand the words. No such line existed in the swordsmanship she had learned. And yet—her heart pounded.
Every time she looked at Arhan’s sword, something stirred within her.
“…How strange.”
Change and growth were good things.
“Again.”
And it wasn’t just the boy who was growing.
The girl facing him was, too.
“Again.”
They were both climbing higher.
Upward—ever upward.
***
『By the standards of this age, the girl’s sword is correct.』
That night, under the moonlight, Liam spoke.
『The sword has existed in this world for countless ages. Techniques have been codified, studied, and recorded. By all measures, that girl’s sword is the most efficient, elegant, and perfect form there is.』
“……”
『She walks the finest path a swordsman can tread.』
I listened silently.
『But tell me,』
“……”
『Can a single great swordsman truly raise their blade against the world?』
Liam’s words were heavier than ever.
『Can a mortal stand upon this continent, shaped by the Nine Goddesses and Seven Lords, and proclaim that this world is unjust, that it must be challenged? Can a single being do that? And even if they could—would those divine beings ever listen? No. They would ignore, scorn, and crush them.』
“……”
『My young descendant—you said you would raise your blade against the world. That you would avenge all that was stolen from you by the Swordmaster. To do so, you would become one yourself. Then you must become someone who can stand against the world. You must become a sword that can face anything.』
Liam’s eyes reflected my figure.
『You are dull—a slow learner. You cannot walk the same path as that girl.
But you have another talent.』
“……”
『The talent of a hero.』
In his gaze, I was still a small, shabby figure.
『A talent to become a legend, to build an epic, and, in the end, a myth.』
“……”
『And fortunately, that talent fits perfectly with the sword of Karavan.』
Even though my frame had grown broader and my muscles thicker, my face still carried traces of a boy. Panting with exhaustion, I looked pitiful.
『In the first age, swords did not even exist. When I first took up a blade, my foes were not skilled swordsmen using refined techniques. There were no Mana Hearts, Roads, or Wings.
My enemy was the blood-soaked age itself— A world twisted by malice.』
“…Ah.”
『So I needed a sword that could fight that.』
The moonlight was cold. Under that pale blue glow, Liam’s eyes shone like steel.
『A sword that would not break, even against the entire world.』
“……”
『That is the conviction from which the Steel was born.』
My stamina had reached its limit. After swinging my sword to exhaustion, I felt I might collapse any moment.
『My young descendant.』
“Yes.”
『Are you ready to take flight?』
“Yes.”
Even so, I didn’t fall. I stood tall—and faced my master.
『Do you remember what I once told you?』
“Which words, Master?”
『That you would need three blades to take flight.』
I remembered. After those words, I had devoured 「Gale」 and 「The Light」. Now, I only needed one more blade to make three. Was he finally going to tell me what the last one would be? As I wondered, he spoke.
『There are already three blades within you, ready to be offered to the wings.』
“…Pardon? You must be mistaken. I’ve only devoured two—”
『No, three. You simply haven’t realized it yet.』
An unexpected revelation.
『From now on, you will keep swinging your sword without rest—until you can fully melt and understand 「Gale」 and 「The Light」. When you have mastered those two blades, you will come to know the identity of the third.』
“……”
『And then—and only then—will the Wings of Steel sprout.』
Words beyond imagination. A third sword—hidden within me? As my mind spun, my master added,
『You’d best hurry.』
With a faint, knowing smile.
『It seems the world has no intention of leaving you in peace.』
He looked toward the distant horizon.
***
While the boy and girl continued their training, a faint groaning voice echoed from another part of the village.
“Ugh…”
The voice belonged to Hailyn. It was a time when she would normally be asleep, yet she was climbing the ridge overlooking the Karavan lands, gazing up at the night sky.
The black heavens are dotted with stars and moonlight.
“If I’m following the method correctly, this should be right… But I can’t tell if I’m seeing it properly. Maybe I should’ve brought Lady Audrey. Was it too greedy to try alone…?”
She had come to test what she had learned. And the technique she used was rather unusual—not the black magic she’d learned from Jerry Selfit, nor the basic magic Audrey had taught her.It was something newly inherited—A spell, no—a ritual.
“Mm.”
The orcish shaman Sherdik had passed it down to her—The ancient orc ritual called 「Constellation」. Ordinarily, a human could never perform it, but because her mana had been twisted by Jerry Selfit’s black magic, Hailyn was now capable of invoking orcish sorcery. And so, her eyes now saw a sight no human could see—the dance of stars revealing the threads of fate.
It was the foundation of 「Constellation」—a form of astrology that read the movement of the heavens to foresee destiny. Reading the stars’ precise, orderly motions, Hailyn divined the fate approaching the Karavan territory. As shamans do, the vision was abstract and symbolic.
“What… is this? Seven… swords?”