Chapter 118 : Chapter 118

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 118 – Upheaval (3)

“I heard modern men and women are quite… uninhibited. That they sometimes share a bed before they’re even officially lovers. But I’m a rather cautious type. I do feel something for you, heir of Steel Blood, but I’d prefer to start by getting to know you first.”

“……”

“My father seems quite taken with you, but I’m not convinced yet. Perhaps he sensed my doubts, because he told me to stay by your side for a while and watch over you. And since I’ve always had a personal curiosity about the heir of Steel Blood… I intend to do just that.”

Sherizik declared it unilaterally. Her words struck like thunder from a clear sky.

I couldn’t say a single thing. Humans are powerless in the face of incomprehensible terror.

My lips refused to move as Sherizik, with gestures absurdly dainty for her monstrous physique, took her leave. Even that gesture chilled me to the bone.

“……”

Frozen in place, I noticed that—for once—Liam was quiet. Perhaps, as my ancestor, he was feeling guilty seeing his descendant in such misery? I turned to look at him. He was barely suppressing laughter. His twitching lips made rage boil up inside me.

There truly was no one on my side in this world.

「I’ve always believed love knows no race, young descendant. If two souls love each other, what does it matter? Humans and orcs can be a beautiful pair.」

“Please shut up.”

「Don’t tell me you’re one of those shallow men who only judge by appearance? I’m disappointed. To think my descendant would be so prejudiced… Love is about what’s inside—」

“For the love of the gods, stop.”

Anyway—Orc Sherizik. Now part of the Karavan domain!

***

It had been quite some time since Toma Rhapsody was bound by the gods.

The Karavan domain was gradually returning to normal.

Rhapsody’s legion and the White family’s Watchers still faced each other in a tense stalemate. For the small but elite White family, the losses were minor. But for Rhapsody—whose army consumed but produced nothing—the cost must’ve been enormous. An army existed only for its military might, after all.

Well, that was good for us. Their massive consumption funneled directly into the Karavan domain. As capital swelled, Hailyn reinvested every coin. She said money begets money—like rolling a snowball downhill. Even Audrey was helping manage the domain now, seemingly having given up resistance and decided to enjoy the situation.

Sometimes she muttered nonsense like, “I was a fool to trust swordsmen,” or “This is why you never leave your bed,” but the Iron Face technique I’d learned from my master rendered me invincible in such battles of will.

With Hailyn and Audrey automatically expanding the domain, and the White family’s Watchers constantly pressuring Rhapsody’s camp, everything prospered—except Rhapsody itself, which was slowly withering.

Watching that, Tom once said:

“It’s thrilling to see the tables turned… but I can’t help thinking they’re paying too heavy a price. The Great Houses never forget their humiliations. For the sake of the future, wouldn’t it be wise to show them some mercy, my lord?”

Tom’s words were wise.

The idea of Rhapsody holding a grudge was indeed frightening. Though Edan Rhapsody didn’t show hostility toward me, that didn’t mean the rest of Rhapsody felt the same.

The House of Rhapsody was too vast, too powerful, to dismiss as just one family. Even their lesser members could easily reduce my domain to ashes. So yes, Tom had a point.

However—

“There’s really no way to show mercy, is there?”

The one who countered Tom was Sancho, our newly returned butler.

“My lord risked everything to overturn this situation. Indeed, Rhapsody’s position must be dire, and yes, they may resent us. But at this point, there’s nothing my lord can do. The Nine Goddesses and Seven Lords have already rendered their judgment. The Watchers of White won’t withdraw just because you ask, and apologizing—claiming you didn’t foresee this—would be absurd. They’re bleeding as we speak; if you apologized now, they’d take it as mockery.”

“……”

“In the end, this is the best course available. Moreover—”

Sancho turned to look at me.

“It’s far too soon for you to fret over the future, my lord. Your goal is much greater than that. If I recall correctly, you’re fated to die the moment you turn eighteen. That’s as close to a confirmed destiny as it gets. To survive, you have only two paths: run away from everything… or surpass the Swordmaster when the time comes.”

“Right.”

“And I know you’ll never choose to flee. Like the former lord before you, you’ll face it head-on. In that case, the future threat isn’t important. If you’re still alive by then, you’ll already be a different man—a sword far beyond anything the Rhapsodys could ever fear.”

Sancho was right.

Tom’s advice would’ve been correct—if I were merely the lord of some rural backwater. But I wasn’t.

I had a clear goal, and if I failed to reach it, there’d be no future at all.

Tom wasn’t foolish.

Sancho and I simply shared the same past—We both remembered the moment everything collapsed so easily, the moment absolute power crushed all we had.

“What my lord must do now isn’t show mercy, nor sign documents as a lord. My lord must grow stronger.”

“……”

“Do you remember, my lord? The saying that only a Swordmaster can kill a Swordmaster. That wasn’t meant to break your spirit. It’s one of the most famous truths of the continent. There’s no exaggeration in it—it’s pure fact. Only a Swordmaster can slay another Swordmaster. Not even a transcendent mage can kill one. Not even the greatest race—the Dragons—can. Not even the monster legions that rule the Northern Continent can. And according to myth, not even the omnipotent Nine Goddesses and Seven Lords can take the life of a Swordmaster.”

Sancho placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“You must become a Swordmaster, my lord. And I believe you can. Leave everything else to us. Wield your sword—and grow stronger. That is what you must do.”

***

By then, I had grown used to fighting as a Sword Runner. I’d mastered the use of my Wings and learned how to wield my blades efficiently.

Tom said,

“What remains is cultivation. Sword Runners refine their beliefs, strengthen their view of the world, and grow through that understanding. The more they experience the wider world, the more their soul expands, their ‘Mystery’ deepens, and new Wings sprout. When ten Wings bloom, they gain the chance to become a Sword Expert.”

He explained the orthodox path— to meditate, train endlessly, and hone oneself like a blade. That was how ordinary swordsmen grew stronger.

But that path wasn’t for me. I was a dullard—a hopeless one. And besides—

「Have you found the key?」

There was no need to.

“Not yet.”

Steel Blood flowed in my veins. Thanks to its power, a dullard like me had reached the realm of a Sword Runner in an instant— a height I’d never have achieved in a lifetime through normal means. So no matter how hard I trained the proper way, I couldn’t go further by conventional effort. To grow stronger, I had to use what I’d been given.

「Find it. Find the answer to your trial.」

The blade I’d eaten— the one holding a legend within it— 「Flight」.

I had to digest it, no matter what.

I didn’t know what lay inside, but one thing was certain: Once I absorbed this defiant blade, I would change. And I would grow stronger—far stronger than now.

“The Witch said the blade’s master was a legendary adventurer. Perhaps I should go on an adventure too—to broaden my horizons, see more of the world. But… with Rhapsody’s legion stationed right at our gates, it’s hard to leave.”

I wrestled with the thought. It felt like standing at a fork in the road, uncertain which path to take. But that was a mistake. Why had I thought I had a choice in the first place? Choice was a privilege of the strong. The weak didn’t choose their path—they were dragged by the world’s current down roads they never wanted to walk.

That was the law of reality.

So rather than ponder what choice to make, I should’ve been preparing for the next trial that would inevitably come. Because the choice was never mine to begin with.

***

That morning, the sky was unusually dark. Clouds hung low, and by late morning, rain began to fall. When the raindrops started, a knight emerged from Rhapsody’s camp— a camp that had been silent since Toma Rhapsody’s confinement. Unlike before, this knight carried himself with strange confidence— as if holding something that could instantly overturn the situation.

Summoned by an old guard, I went outside. What I saw left me speechless. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming.

“……?”

The first thing I saw were corpses. Bodies clad in white armor and helmets— the Watchers of the White family. The same ones who had dutifully carried out their duties just yesterday. All of them—dead.

I couldn’t comprehend it.

Who? How? Why?

Slowly, I turned my head. And there stood a man in a black tailcoat— holding in his arms none other than Toma Rhapsody.

The young master of Rhapsody, who should have been bound by divine light, awaiting the judgment of the Nine Goddesses and Seven Lords.

I couldn’t make sense of it. None of it.

Then I looked closer at the man. His face—he looked like Toma. And like Edan, too. His half-lidded eyes, his decadent air— and upon his chest, the emblem of the sea: Rhapsody’s symbol.

The man spoke.

“So, you’re the ‘Sword Demon,’ are you?”

The moment I heard his voice, I understood who he was.

“The pitiful fighter, Liam.”

The Lord of the Free Cities. Master of one of the Great Five Houses. The most dangerously doting father on the continent. Master of Seven Swords.

“My son… You made him this way?”

Hugo Rhapsody. One of the Six Swordmasters— had come in person.