Chapter 27 : Chapter 27

Chapter 27 — Twilight (1)

‘A boy dreams of becoming the protagonist.’

‘But not every boy can become one.’

***

“Kegh, kehk—!”

Meken could not believe what had just happened. His stomach twisted as he glared at the boy standing before him — the boy who had stepped forward as Fetel’s proxy warrior.

How could this be?

Exceptional swordsmanship? That, he could understand. Even back at the Academy, Meken had never been particularly gifted in swordsmanship.

Meken had always been obsessed with raising his realm alone.

In pure swordfighting — without mana — he couldn’t even guarantee victory against Academy trainees. His fundamentals had been pitiful.

And that boy — wasn’t he someone close to that thick-headed Fetel? The one foolish enough to challenge a Sword Runner like himself, all because of that dead fool?

If he was the disciple of Fetel — the so-called “Fetel the Loyal,” a man who had spent his life drilling nothing but fundamentals — then it wasn’t strange that the boy’s swordsmanship was unusually refined.

That he had blocked several of Meken’s attacks by luck? That too, Meken could accept.

He had only recently become a Sword Runner and still couldn’t control the mana flow of his wings properly.

If the boy had natural instincts and could “see the Path” like a Sword Walker, then blocking a few of his strikes would be possible.

Yes, all of that made sense.

Except for one thing.

How could he be so hard?

That hardness.

During their second clash, Meken had momentarily thought the boy had become steel.

An unyielding steel that his own blade could not even scratch.

From his heart to the Path that spread outward, every part of the boy was impossibly solid.

That was something that shouldn’t have been possible.

Was he a half-blood? No — even if he were, that level of resilience defied all logic. Even the descendants of demons couldn’t possess a heart like that at the level of a mere Sword Walker.

Meken’s vision wavered. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat.

He knew exactly what this was.

Mana shock.

It was a phenomenon that occurred when one’s internal mana collided with a stronger, denser mana. The shock rattled the mana heart inside. It was a reaction that usually only seasoned old knights — who had spent decades tempering their bodies and hearts — could cause.

Which meant it was impossible. For Meken, a Sword Runner, to experience mana shock from clashing blades with a boy who was only a Sword Walker…

“What trickery is this? That’s impossible!”

“……”

“Ah… I see now. You must have paid the witches of the Sky Empire a mountain of gold coins for their magic tools! Or did you steal a dwarf’s treasure?”

Meken’s bloodshot eyes glared at me.

My answer came calmly.

“Believe what you like.”

That nonchalant reply only enraged him further. And in the boy’s steadfast gaze, Meken saw something else — the reflection of an old knight he once knew. The commander of the Knight Order 「Yellow Elephant」.

A monster with four wings, a Sword Runner who had triumphed in countless honor duels, a Judge who carved his name across many battlefields — an honorable sword.

The hardness the boy exuded reminded Meken of that old knight’s strength, attained only in the twilight of his life. That was why Meken could not accept what he saw before him.

“Don’t you dare brush this off with words.”

Grinding his teeth, Meken raised his sword high. He steadied his breathing, forcing down the surging mana within. One of his wings had been broken — but what did that matter?

He still had one left, and he wouldn’t fall for the same trick again.

Yet, no matter how much he told himself that, an unshakable unease crept up his spine. At that moment, he recalled something the commander of the Yellow Elephant had once told him long ago.

Meken, don’t pride yourself on growing your wings faster than others. I guarantee that one day, before you grow new wings, you’ll bitterly regret not having first tempered yourself.

Damn that word again. Hardness.

“I don’t need hardness, you old fool. What matters is the realm. The higher your realm, the greater your sword. That’s all that matters!”

He clenched his blade and spread his unbroken wing wide. Even so, the commander’s voice echoed in his mind.

When you meet someone harder than yourself, you’ll break — completely. Wings? Unripened wings are nothing but paper, you fool.

His Mana Heart throbbed, his Path burned bright, and his half-wing unfurled. But Meken couldn’t understand or accept that old man’s words.

He would prove he was right. By crushing this boy — this irritating reflection of that old knight — to pieces.

***

“The secret of a Sword Runner’s wings lies in their very name.”

Only after I had broken one of Meken’s wings did Liam begin to explain.

“Runner — it means one who runs.”

“As the name implies, the wings of a Sword Runner make everything run.”

“In simpler terms — they accelerate everything.”

Acceleration. The moment he said it, I understood the mystery behind Meken’s incredible movements.

Acceleration — at an abnormal rate. That was how he created sword strikes that seemed like teleportation.

But that raised questions.

If he could accelerate himself to such extreme speed, why hadn’t he simply decapitated me instantly instead of showing that ‘preparation motion’?

If he hadn’t shown me that downward slash in advance, I wouldn’t even have felt danger — my head would’ve been gone before I could react.

The mystery didn’t end there.

If his acceleration was truly that immense, why did he move at normal speed once he was close? If he was so fast I couldn’t even see him, he could have attacked from countless angles. And how could someone that fast fail to react to a simple thrust during our clash?

Too many things didn’t add up.

“I can guess what you’re wondering, young descendant. The answer to all those questions is simple.”

Liam answered the doubts forming in my mind.

“It’s because that fool only has one pair of wings.”

One pair. That was the answer — an immature Sword Runner.

“With only one pair, he can accelerate just one thing. And he can’t maintain it for long. If he accelerates his body, he can’t accelerate his mind. So, his body moves incredibly fast — but his brain can’t keep up.”

At last, everything made sense.

“If the mind can’t catch up, technique can’t follow. The way that Meken fights is the classic form of a rookie Sword Runner. Since he can’t accelerate multiple aspects at once, he prepares first, bursts forward to kill, and retreats again.”

“……”

“A true master swordsman could accelerate the mind and dominate up close with technique, but…”

Liam’s eyes glanced toward Meken with disdain.

“As you’ve seen, that man’s swordsmanship is pathetic. To put it bluntly, his body is a musclehead — but his head is still a child’s. A complete amateur.”

“……”

“You young ones would call that… What was it? A good-looking loser?”

A “good-looking loser,” huh.

I couldn’t quite agree.

That was something only a true Swordmaster like my teacher could say.

One of his wings is broken, but his presence hasn’t weakened.

The previous clash had drained much of my stamina. I still wasn’t used to using the Lines, and that single thrust had already left my body heavy and tired.

“Shame,” Liam muttered. “If you’d broken both wings, that would have been a perfect victory.”

“Honestly, breaking one was already a miracle.”

I steadied my breath, watching Meken carefully while holding Twilight.

“Now comes the real fight,” Liam said. “Don’t lose your hardness. The greatness of the Karavan lies in endurance — the longer the battle, the stronger we become.”

Meken’s half-wing flared open again.

“As I always say, we only grow harder the more we’re hammered.”

“Like Steel.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

It was starting again.

***

Meken’s swordsmanship wasn’t good. His realm was high, yes — but he couldn’t wield what he had with skill. His attacks were powerful, but monotonous.

If it were me, I could think of dozens of ways to make better use of those wings.

Well, that was lucky for me. But after being wounded once, Meken didn’t charge in recklessly again.

What’s he doing now?

He just stood there, swinging his sword through the air in slow preparation motions. Each time he did, my Path warned me — flashes of thunder running up my neck. The fatigue was beginning to pile up.

After about five times of feeling that electric terror, I realized what he was doing.

He’s fighting smart now.

The Path could predict a Sword Runner’s assault by detecting the mana pattern that flared when their wings activated. But it couldn’t tell if the danger was real or feigned. That was the difference in realm.

Meken swung his sword in place, over and over, as if practicing.

And I had no choice but to react to every one of those movements with my full focus.

To anyone watching, we must have looked absurd — two men standing still, swinging swords in empty air. But this was a deadly battle of wits. One slip, one false move, meant death. And in such a match, a Sword Runner had every advantage.

“Huff… hah—”

My stamina began to run low from maintaining my defense.

Seeing my heavy breathing, Meken’s eyes gleamed.

That eerie sense of danger returned — and this time, I reacted a bit too late.

He charged.

Clang—!

“Ugh!”

The metallic ring echoed as sparks flew.

My wrist trembled violently.

After one exchange, Meken retreated like a ghost again. Then, after several false swings, he lunged once more — but this time, it wasn’t his sword.

“Urgh—!”

He faked a swing and drove his plated boot straight into my gut.

It felt as if my insides were crushed to pulp. Blood filled my mouth instantly.

I thought my torso would explode. But I bit my lip and held my ground even as I staggered backward.

I couldn’t lose balance.

If I fell, Meken wouldn’t retreat — he’d advance and cut off my head.

I forced myself upright, breathing raggedly, and raised my sword again.

Meken advanced. His wing spread wide.

Clang—!

“Huh… urgh.”

“Oh?”

Through the clash of blades, Meken’s predatory eyes gleamed.

Twilight trembled, being pressed down by his strength.

“So it was a trick after all. That hardness of yours — you can’t maintain it.”

“……”

“Of course. That kind of toughness isn’t something a whelp like you could sustain. Heh, heheheh.”

His gaze turned sharp and wild.

“Now that your limits are exposed, I don’t need to hold back.”

His remaining wing spread. He didn’t retreat anymore.

His longsword came crashing down with brutal force.

“Haah!”

I blocked with all my strength — but I couldn’t relax.

Meken’s sword didn’t stop. It hammered against my defense again and again.

There was no finesse — just raw speed and power.

“Come on, again!”

“Ha—”

“Do it again, you worthless brat!”

“Haah—”

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The metallic roars filled the air as our blades clashed repeatedly.

Twilight followed Fetel’s memory, moving with the orthodox, knightly swordsmanship — rough, simple, but unyielding.

“You little—!”

Our elbows struck — locked together, so close our swords crossed at arm’s length.

At that moment, Fetel’s memories surged through the blade.

A duel isn’t some glamorous battle from a novel.

My body moved on its own. My front foot scraped the dirt as I slipped in between Meken’s legs.

His eyes flickered — the next moment, my leg hooked behind his ankle, and his body lurched.

My honor duel wasn’t for honor. It was for you.

That’s why I did anything necessary to win.

My body twisted roughly on its own.

Our locked arms and tangled wrists spun together, and using his weight against him, I pivoted and threw him down.

That was how I refused to bend.

It was a skilled sword grappling technique — a kind of sword-based martial art that unfolded when swordsmen came too close.

A technique etched deep in Fetel’s memories.

“Damn—!”

But Meken’s remaining wing made him tricky.

With a burst of mana, he widened the gap between us again — though not as far as before.

Half a wing… he’s reaching his limit.

No bird could fly forever with only one wing.

I clenched my teeth and poured the last of my strength into my legs, charging again.

Meken’s wing was nearly finished. He would need time to unfold it again.

This was my only chance.

“You little bastard—”

And then, I saw it — a blue Path spreading before my eyes.

Meken’s Path.

When one ascends to a higher realm, one doesn’t lose what they had before.

Becoming a Sword Runner means one has already mastered the Path of the Sword Walker.

“I take back what I said about sparing your life. You die here.”

Countless Paths filled my vision, devouring the world. It was the same phenomenon I had seen when I first met Fetel — waves made of infinite Paths, impossible to dodge or escape.

Beyond that storm of Paths stood Meken.

He spat on the ground. The wings behind his back folded shut — both of them.

For this moment, he was no longer a Sword Runner.

He had become a perfect Sword Walker.

But was that truly a good thing?

Meken might have been an immature Sword Runner — but as a Sword Walker, he was likely at the absolute peak. Maybe a complete Path was more dangerous than a broken pair of wings.

I clenched my teeth and gripped Twilight.

And then—To protect something, I had to become strong.

Fetel’s memory surged through me with overwhelming force.

That’s how my sword was born.

For that moment, it felt as if I had become Fetel himself.

There may be many swordsmen who have lingered in the realm of the Sword Walker longer than I. But I can take pride in one thing.

Dust swirled in the air.

In this Iron Kingdom, there isn’t a single swordsman who’s struggled more desperately, more wretchedly, at the edge of the Sword Walker’s path than I. And that’s why I’m certain of one thing.

As the storm of Paths rushed toward me, my own new Path began to unfold.

In a battle between Sword Walkers… I will not lose. Ever.