Chapter 3 : Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Needle (2)

The path of a swordsman was divided into five realms.

Sword Beginner.

Sword Walker.

Sword Runner.

Sword Expert.

Swordmaster.

Most swordsmen remained between Sword Beginner and Sword Walker. One only began to be treated as a true powerhouse after stepping into the realm of the 「Sword Runner」.

Those who reached that stage could receive respect wherever they went, reigning over the battlefield like specters. In any nation, a Sword Runner could easily become a knight and live in splendor.

And a 「Sword Expert」? They were beings so powerful that ordinary people might never even see one in their lifetimes. On the battlefield, their appearance alone could overturn the tide of war. They were often called gods of war.

That realm was attainable only by those born with exceptional talent and who endured bone-grinding effort.

Then what of Swordmasters? They were always placed outside of such discussions. They were not gods of the battlefield, but beings above, who should be classified as divine. Across the entire continent, there were only six Swordmasters still alive. Even through history, they appeared only rarely, and when they did, they never bound themselves to any one place but lived entirely as they pleased.

No one could restrain them.

For only a Swordmaster could kill another Swordmaster.

Those absolute beings never fought each other, nor did they interfere much in worldly matters—save for a few eccentrics.

‘When I was shut away in some backwater countryside, I never knew. Never knew that damn thing called a Swordmaster was such a mighty existence.’

In any case, there was no point in speaking of Swordmasters now.

With the sword I had just obtained, the weapon called 「Needle」, the realm I sought was far humbler than that.

「Focus and digest it well.」

Through this weapon, I would become a Sword Beginner.

As the word implied, I was finally taking my first step……

***

The sword I had picked up from the trash heap, 「Needle」, was strangely shaped.

It was far too slender to be called a sword. At a glance, it looked thinner than my finger.

I even wondered, ‘Could such a thing possibly harm a person?’

The needle was so thin it was unbelievably light. It felt less like holding a lump of iron and more like holding a hollow stick. Even the wooden sword I had swung behind the mansion felt heavier than this.

“If I tried to cut something with this, it would probably snap immediately.”

「Indeed. That is, if you tried to cut.」

If I tried to cut? When I looked at him in question, Liam explained.

「That sword is not like others, meant to cleave boldly and smash foes. It was made to pierce vital points with precision, to end life in a single strike.」

Piercing. It was a deadly form of attack a sword could deliver.

But if piercing was the goal, wouldn’t a spear be far more efficient?

Why pierce with a sword at all?

As I thought that, Liam spoke, as though reading my mind.

「As I told you before, you’ll understand once you eat it.」

“……”

「For reference, that sword holds memories perfectly suited for you. For that small, frail body of yours, like that of a girl, it will be of use.」

As I placed Needle into the fire to heat it, I asked,

“What do you mean?”

「That sword once belonged to a woman.」

A woman’s sword? I frowned at his words.

Female swordsmen were rare on the continent. Their physical conditions and many other factors put them at a disadvantage compared to men. In all of history, only a single female Swordmaster had ever existed. Women usually found greater success in other fields—magic, for example……

「You’re more rigid in your thinking than an old man like me.」

“I only thought according to common sense.”

「Then let me say this first. When you face the sword, throw away common sense. The moment you take up a blade, believe you can become anything, do anything. Only then can you reach the peak.」

Liam’s heavy voice struck my ears.

By then, the needle was heated enough.

As I pulled the glowing blade from the fire, I hesitated, recalling the agony I had felt before.

Seeing my pause, Liam said,

「The woman who wielded that sword, Needle, claimed more than two hundred lives before she died. Alone.」

That offhand remark erased my hesitation.

I opened my mouth wide and shoved the thin blade inside, biting down with a sharp crack. The searing hot metal burned my tongue, scorched my palate, ripped my throat, and plunged into my stomach.

Ah, this was a pain I would never grow used to……

“Kehehhk!”

Coughing wretchedly, this time it wasn’t only my gut that burned—my head too grew hot. As if my brain itself was heating, foreign memories began to surge through me. Not my own, but someone else’s.

The memories of Needle’s former owner.

『The last thing I remember was a burning mansion.』

***

The last thing I remembered was a burning mansion.

Amidst the raging flames, my mother and father turned to black ash. I had no idea how I survived that hellfire. When I came to, I was lying on a bed in a shabby orphanage funded by the Sergen Order.

“Mary, are you awake?”

My once-pretty face and soft skin had been stolen by fire. What remained was a grotesque body unfit to be called a woman’s. My skin was marred with burns and twisted as though cursed by demons. I never wanted to see a mirror. I hated my appearance.

“This is the chapel. Every morning we start our day by worshiping the Goddess Sergen. It is thanks to her blessing of light that we live beneath the sun. Over there is the dining hall, and if you go down this way…”

The orphanage teacher, Derbein, was kind. Looking back, I regret treating her harshly, but at the time I was too thorny a human. I lived with my lips sealed. In the orphanage, that wasn’t much of a problem.

“Disgusting.”

“She’s a monster.”

The other children avoided me, never speaking. Except for Derbein, even the other teachers never approached. I understood them. I even despised the sight of myself.

Life at the orphanage was hell. What I hated most was the worship of the Goddess Sergen. She was the goddess of flame and peace, but to me—who had lost everything to fire—being told to worship the goddess of flame was torture.

“I want to die.”

That was my constant refrain.

I thought endlessly of ending my life. But I never did, because of fear. The sensation of fire consuming me still haunted me with unbearable pain. If death was worse, how could I endure it? And so my hell continued.

Until that day.

‘…?’

Late one night when I could not sleep. Children were forbidden outside at such an hour. I stepped into the garden out of suffocation—and there I saw something glittering. The light of the moon reflected off a sword.

“Ah.”

The one holding and swinging it was Hegel, the orphanage’s caretaker. He was past sixty, yet the arcs his sword drew seemed to me unbearably beautiful. For a brief moment, as I watched that sword, I forgot the hell filling my mind.

Had I stared too long? Panting, Hegel turned to me.

“Child. It’s late. You shouldn’t be outside now.”

Normally, I would have turned away without a word. But this time, I didn’t want to.

For the first time in a long while, I opened my mouth to someone at the orphanage.

“I want to learn that.”

“…So you can speak, Mary.”

“Please teach me.”

I spoke with sincerity.

But Hegel firmly refused.

“I can’t teach swordsmanship to an orphan child. It won’t help you survive. Especially not for a girl.”

“……”

“What good is learning to wield a blade like this?”

I stared straight at him.

“…If I learn, I think I won’t fear fire or the world anymore.”

After standing silently for a long while, Hegel drew a breath and went somewhere. He returned carrying a heavy tub filled with metal scraps. Despite his age, he was strong enough to carry it alone.

“Lift this. If you can swing it, I’ll teach you.”

“Must I swing it?”

“What then?”

I replied to him.

Then reached into the tub and pulled out the thinnest, longest blade I could find. Light enough for even me to lift. Holding it, I twisted my wrist ever so slightly. The needle-thin tip aimed straight at Hegel’s throat.

“Whether swinging or thrusting—if I can aim, isn’t that enough?”

***

The memories within Needle—the memories of the female swordsman Mary—didn’t flood me all at once. They seeped in slowly. Liam said it was the process of digestion.

「It is not right to simply wait for digestion. You must also train your body.」

“Do you mean strength training? I tried following knightly routines, but they had little effect.”

I had done much strength training, but it never yielded results.

「No. That is not for you. You will not be swinging axes like a barbarian, and above all, your body is not suited for bulking muscle or brute force.」

“Then what?”

「Stamina and flexibility first.」

Stamina and flexibility?

Could that help me wield a sword?

I wondered, but did not speak. Liam was the expert, not me.

「Trust me. The effect will soon be clear.」

“Yes.”

「If you can swing a sword all day without breaking your breath, that alone will let you kill five untrained men with ease.」

He spoke with certainty.

「And if you grow flexible enough to strike at any vital point, to freely assume whatever stance you imagine… then at least around here, no one will take you lightly. That is the foundation.」

Since he was so sure, I chose not to doubt.

The first training was running. In the abandoned village, where no living soul remained, I ran every morning until I collapsed. At full speed.

「If you train while digesting the sword, your growth will be swift. Believe me. Do not doubt, just do as I say.」

One day, two, three.

Four, ten…

For twenty days I ran through the village and honed my flexibility.

On the twentieth morning, I could run for three hours at full speed.

Without stopping.

***

「Designation: Needle」

「The slender, long sword wielded by the female swordsman Mary.」

「A sword specialized for thrusting.」

…

…

「Ingestion effect」

「You acquire Mary’s swordsmanship.」

「Your body is reforged to match her style.」

「A body with steel blood grows stronger the more it is tempered.」