Chapter 48 : Chapter 48

Chapter 48. The Sword Demon (4)

“Did he actually injure a Monk? How is that possible…?”

“The Little Gladiator’s a 「Sword Runner」, right? Only someone of that level could even scratch a Monk. Their bodies are like living stones.”

The crowd in the 「Arena」 was in an uproar. Not only had a Monk appeared—something unheard of in the Iron Kingdom—but his opponent was the Little Gladiator who had set the arena ablaze the day before.

‘…A troublesome opponent indeed. This might be a hard one for you, Little Gladiator.’

Among the chattering spectators sat Seol Yoon, calm and watchful. Her own promotion match had already earned her the Gold Medal and her letter of recommendation, granting her full qualification for the Infinite Duel.

But Arhan—He still lacked both.

That was why Seol Yoon watched this fight with such focus.

‘Even if he’s stronger now… Monks are the natural enemies of swordsmen.’

The Monks were ascetics who forged their own bodies into living weapons. Their skin was tougher than a knight’s armor, their fists as powerful as war hammers capable of breaking castle walls. And even if you somehow managed to wound them, their goddess—the Sun Goddess Revrua—granted them the divine power of healing, among the most potent blessings known to any god.

The mere fact that a Monk had appeared in a match like this was practically a cheat. To truly face one, you need to be at least a 「Sword Runner」.

“This match’s decided already. The kid’s done for.”

“Of course he is. Those monsters train in the Sky Mountains themselves! I’ve only ever heard of them, never seen one.”

“Damn it, I bet all my winnings on the Little Gladiator!”

“Heh, serves you right! Should’ve bet smarter, my friend.”

The fight had barely begun, but most already treated the outcome as certain. Even Seol Yoon couldn’t completely disagree.

A Monk at this level was simply unreasonable—and Arhan’s strengths didn’t counter them well.

Against a Monk, his steel-like resilience would lose much of its edge.

And yet—“You’re all being rather hasty.”

A calm, refined voice interrupted the murmurs.

Seol Yoon turned to look.

“None of us can know the result before the fight is over,” said the voice. “Even the great Goddess Refri herself said she cannot foresee every battle’s end. That’s what makes dueling sacred. From what I see, that young man—the Little Gladiator—still has every chance to win. He knows the meaning of a true struggle.”

The speaker was an elderly man with snow-white hair, dressed neatly in a gentleman’s suit, spotless despite the dust. A monocle gleamed at the corner of his eye.

The surrounding spectators fell silent under his dignified tone.

Seol Yoon recognized him.

“…I don’t think I’ve seen you in the stands before.”

“Indeed? Hoho. I may work with the Hall of Honor, but I, too, love the art of battle. Whenever a fighter catches my eye, I make sure to watch.”

The old man smiled warmly, a kind of smile that naturally put one at ease.

“I don’t spend all my time locked away in the Hall of Honor, you know.”

“…”

“Besides, I’m a fan. A fan of the Little Gladiator.”

The old man—Tom, the caretaker of the Hall of Honor—smiled gently.

“For reference, I’ve bet three months’ salary on his victory.”

***

「Normally, you’d never see a Monk in a place like this,」 Liam said, his voice calm amid the swirling dust.

「They live cut off from the mortal world. Back in the age of war, they only descended from the mountains to quell chaos. Monks don’t train to kill—they train to perfect themselves. They’re nothing like us swordsmen.」

Fighter Helen’s wounds had already healed. That level of recovery was simply absurd—almost cheating.

「It’ll feel unfair. Their martial arts, their bodies harder than iron, and even when wounded, they recover in moments. They look as if they were born solely for battle.」

He was right. No matter how I analyzed the situation, the Monk before me was an opponent far beyond my current reach—both in reason and in instinct.

「The power they use isn’t mana like ours. Instead of forming a second heart, they gather it in an organ below the navel called the dantian. They call that energy Qi.」

“…”

「That Qi strengthens both body and spirit, making them tougher and enhancing their divine abilities. It’s a damn troublesome thing.」

Fighter Helen sprang forward, and I inhaled deeply. Air filled my lungs as mana surged within me. The lines running through my body blazed to life, granting me superhuman strength.

「But remember—every form of power has its own strengths. None is truly superior. The sword, too, has its own virtues, my young descendant.」

I fixed my gaze on Helen. He stepped into my 「Path」—and in that instant, I could see a faint afterimage of his movements, what he was about to do. But knowing didn’t mean I could easily react—he was too fast.

Rather than swinging wide, I redirected my sword in minimal, controlled motions to meet his blows— not like facing a man’s fists, but as though parrying a heavy weapon.

I guided the force of his punches as if deflecting a mace, turning his strength aside and sending it back in one fluid rotation.

Deflection through rotation—the essence of chivalric swordsmanship. Fetel’s 「Twilight.」

「The sword exists to overcome weakness—to face what’s stronger than you, to cut through fear and peril, and move forward.」

“…”

「A Monk breaks when he meets a stronger Monk. But a sword… can face any foe. From the moment blades were born, that has always been their nature.」

I turned my body, swinging. Helen bent smoothly, dodging with serene grace. But my sword didn’t stop.

Once the rotation began, my strike turned from refined to savage—a brutal orcish technique layered atop a noble knight’s form.

From 「Twilight」 to 「Wild Instinct.」

“Amazing! It feels as if I’m fighting several warriors at once! This is the kind of ferocity only the orc warriors of the Sky Mountains display after their coming-of-age!”

Helen slipped and weaved, avoiding my blade with fluid movement.

Damn it—he was skilled at martial arts, too. Not only tough, but graceful. Step by step, he closed the distance, then opened his palm and struck toward me—the same technique as before, one that sent a shockwave through the body like lightning.

Not this time.

“Ha—”

I rotated my grip, bringing my shoulder into Helen’s chest and hooked his ankle, throwing him with my full weight. Balance gone, he tilted backward.

A move strong enough to topple a giant—Sword Wrestling.

From 「Wild Instinct」 back to 「Twilight.」

But—“You’re trying to grapple with me? That’s unwise.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Monk martial arts weren’t limited to striking—they encompassed every form of physical combat.

Fetel’s wrestling was impressive, but it couldn’t compare to a Monk who’d trained his body since birth.

“For a swordsman, that was decent. But even the seven-year-old novices of our mountain can do this much.”

Helen wavered, but didn’t fall. Then his limbs moved like serpents, coiling around me.

My joints popped ominously under the pressure.

I dropped my sword. As the dwarven blade fell, I drew 「Fang」 from my thigh and thrust it.

Helen didn’t flinch—he’d seen that trick before.

But this time, I wasn’t repeating myself.

“...?”

I stabbed, the blade just shy of reaching him.

Too short.

I released 「Fang」 instantly, twisted my wrist, and caught the falling dwarven sword in midair—then stabbed again from an impossible angle.

「Needle.」A piercing thrust like a whip of steel pushed him back.

It didn’t cut deep, but it made him retreat.

“What… is this?”

Helen’s eyes flickered.

“Two… no, three? Four? How many souls are inside you?”

A priest at heart, he must’ve sensed something beyond mortal. But I had no time for his muttering.

I pressed the advantage. Alternating between the dwarven sword and 「Fang」, I slashed, stabbed, and twisted. Each motion birthed a new style—「Fang」 and 「Twilight」, 「Needle」 and 「Wild Instinct」—appearing and vanishing seamlessly.

To the eyes of the crowd, it must’ve seemed as if multiple swordsmen were fighting within one body—each emerging at the perfect moment.

Helen stared, wide-eyed.

“Are you… a ghost?”

“…”

“I’ve never seen anything like this. Not even in the Empire…”

Of course not.

The Steel Blood in my veins was unlike anything else.

I stepped forward and thrust my blade. Blood spattered—Helen’s hardened skin was weakening. After a heavy slash, I kicked up dust with a spin, clouding the air.

From my thigh, I drew another dagger.

『Darkness was once my friend.』

And suddenly, I was an Assassin of the Free City again. I moved like a shadow, silent and swift.

My dagger lunged—but Helen deflected it with the back of his hand.

How—?

Then I realized: his eyes were closed. He was sensing my approach without sight.

The dagger spun midair. Helen opened his eyes slowly—but I wasn’t done.

I kicked the spinning dagger’s handle, driving it downward—straight into his chest.

His hardened skin cracked; blood flew. But Helen glared at me, unfazed.

He was giving up flesh to take a limb. His rough hand reached for my ankle.

Wrong move.

I threw another dagger straight at his unguarded eye.

“Hup—”

Helen knocked it aside—his stance broke for just an instant.

My opening.

I gripped the dwarven sword, inhaled deeply, and poured everything into it.

The 「Path」 became a Line—an unbreakable path of steel.

「A Monk is like a boulder—unyielding before hardship. But tell me—」

The line flared across my blade—and both of Helen’s arms were sliced clean off.

Blood sprayed, golden light blooming as healing began anew.

I didn’t give him the chance.

I stomped his foot, locking him in place.

「—Can a boulder ever be harder than steel?」

Helen kicked upward, his Qi-charged leg crashing into my sword.

The impact was immense; it could go either way.

So I didn’t clash.

I released my sword, drew 「Fang」, and drove it into the back of his knee, severing the nerves. His stance collapsed—1.7 seconds, start to finish.

Clang! The dwarven sword spun high into the air. Even crippled, Helen rammed his shoulder into my chest. Golden light flared again, sending shockwaves through my body.

But—“...Haa.”

I endured. My 「Mana Heart」 was not ordinary.

The heart of steel did not falter so easily.

“Incredible—truly incredible resilience—!”

Helen’s voice trembled with awe.

Golden light burst from his severed arms again, new limbs growing grotesquely fast.

“More! Show me more—!”

We clashed like madmen. I cut off his arms, shattered his legs, pierced his ribs, tore his chest open—yet the damn Monk healed again and again, until his divine energy finally ran dry.

His punches, when they landed, nearly shattered me.

Each impact made my body feel like crumbling sand. But I refused to fall.

I gave everything—every last drop.

The noise of the crowd slowly faded.

Then even the faintest sounds vanished, leaving behind perfect silence.

And in that silence—visions came.

The Arena melted away.

In its place stretched a vast plain swarming with monstrous creatures.

Yes.

『The Monster Wave was a disaster.』

The last unassimilated memory of 「Wild Instinct.」

***

The Monster Wave had been a calamity. So many of my kin died.

Our village was erased overnight.

Friends and comrades were swept away by the tide of monsters.

Giants led the charge of the endless horde.

The black creatures blotted out the plains.

The sky darkened, lightning roared, steel clashed.

Orc warriors bellowed, monsters shrieked.

For days, maybe weeks, the storm never ended. When it was finally over, I was the only one left standing—surrounded by mountains of corpses, both monsters and kin.

The rain stopped. And only then did I turn around.

“Beric, Beric,” a voice called.

There they were—the ones I had fought to protect.

But they were crying. Even though it was all over, they wept.

And then I saw why.

My body—full of holes, rotting, black with death.

No longer the proud green of an orc.

I had no time left.

My gentle wife, who had always believed in me, was sobbing.

My family, my friends, mourned.

My son who could barely walk, my daughter still nursing—they cried, too young to understand.

And strangely, death no longer frightened me. For once, I felt peace.

I did not regret my choice.

I was proud—to have protected them to the very end.

Only one thing pained me.

That I would not grow old beside my wife.

That I would not see my son’s coming-of-age, nor my daughter’s wedding.

That I would not share their futures.

I looked upon my children and remembered the past—when I’d once asked my father if he feared death. He laughed, showing his fangs, and patted my head.

Ah… It was his words that gave me the strength to protect those I loved.

That was why I could die satisfied.

I looked at my children, my wife, my friends—and chose my last words without hesitation.

“...Do not run.”

“…”

“There is no paradise for those who flee.”

Those words guided my life—and I prayed they would guide theirs, too.

.

.

.

The furious clash dragged on—until 「Wild Instinct」 was finally fully absorbed.

When my senses returned, the battle was over.

My sword had pierced Helen’s chest.

The golden glow of healing no longer shimmered.

He had burned through the last of his divine power.

“...A ghost.”

Voices rose from the stands.

“A Sword Demon...”

Yes. That was what they called me now.

“Kh... cough.”

“…”

“To be this unbreakable… truly, the continent is vast.”

Helen’s voice was weak, blood trailing from his lips.

“It was like… fighting a ghost. To fight like this… without divine power… how…?”

“…”

“Remarkable… truly…”

His body went limp, collapsing into the dirt. And only I remained standing.

Yes—me.

“The victor—Little Gladiator Liam!”

My name echoed through the Arena.

“From this moment, the Little Gladiator Liam shall wear the Gold Medal!”

The crowd erupted in cheers—but I couldn’t enjoy them.

My vision blurred; my legs gave out.

When I looked down, I saw my body—covered in blood, torn skin, blue bruises, bones jutting out. No wonder they called me a ghost.

I must have fought unconsciously, driven by the lingering rage and memory of the orc great warrior Beric—fighting till nothing was left, even when all reason had burned away.

“Ah…”

I collapsed where I stood. My hands trembled uncontrollably.

The world spun.

My body was wrecked, pushed far past its limit.

As Arena staff rushed toward me, my eyes closed.

“Li–am!”

“The Sword Demon—Liam—!”

「Sword Demon.」

That new name echoed everywhere.

As sleep pulled me under, I heard Liam’s voice.

「Well done, my young descendant.」

And then—darkness.

***

I didn’t know how long I was out.

By the time I awoke, my duel with the Monk had become infamous.

They said even unconsciously, I had fought like a beast—swinging broken arms, biting Helen’s fists, roaring like a wild animal.

No wonder they called me the Sword Demon.

For that brief moment, I hadn’t been the Little Gladiator.

I had been an orc—a hero of the plains, a father, a warrior’s son.

With that new title, my promotion was complete.

The first qualification for the Infinite Duel was mine.

While recovering, I was catching up on the news from Seol Yoon when—“You’re finally awake.”

A familiar, unexpected visitor appeared.

“I hear you’ll be participating in the Infinite Duel.”

Tom, the caretaker of the Hall of Honor.

“I’ll write your letter of recommendation.”

The kind old man smiled warmly.

“...On one condition, of course.”