Chapter 50. The Infinite Duel (2)
Late at night, I threw on a light coat and stepped out of the inn. The Steel City of Ferma never truly slept. Even deep into the night, the air carried warmth and the faint sll of liquor. But the farther I walked, the quieter it beca—until only the chirping of night insects and the rustle of wind remained. Ahead lood the great structure of the 「Arena」, majestic even in the moonlight.
After staring at it for a while, I turned left, where an ornate wall ca into view—its surface etched with old, elegant patterns. It looked more like an art museum than anything else. But what was displayed here wasn’t art.
This place didn’t hold paintings or sculptures. It held the traces of warriors.
I quickened my steps. Along the wall, countless swords were mounted on display. Beneath each blade, a na was written in flowing script.
The Hall of Honor.
A hallowed hall that preserved the weapons of those who had left their mark upon the Arena.
It was a quiet place—visited mostly by young dwarves with a romantic fascination for weaponry, eccentric blacksmiths, or scholars who studied the history of arms.
Those who ca to the Steel City seeking blood and glory rarely bothered coming this far.
Yet tonight, soone was already there.
A man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the displays.
When he sensed my approach, he slowly turned.
“Oh. We et again.”
A clean-shaven head, gentle eyes, a calm smile. He had the kind of face that made you feel oddly at ease—and for that very reason, I couldn’t place him at all.
“…I’m sorry, but who are you?”
“Ah, of course. You wouldn’t recognize without the mask.”
He smiled kindly.
“It’s . The fighter you crossed blades with not long ago—Helen, the Monk. Ring any bells now?”
“Ah.”
At the word Monk, the mory returned.
The maddeningly relentless fighter who had refused to fall.
“You’ve recovered quickly,” I said. “You were in bad shape when I last saw you.”
“You jest. Surely a Monk has less right to say that than you, my friend. I was worried you wouldn’t even stand again.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Haha. We Monks don’t stay wounded for long. As long as the Goddess is with us, injuries hardly count as injuries.”
Right. Creepy bastards.
I’d run him through the chest, and here he was—smiling like nothing had happened.
“But how did you recognize so easily?” I asked. “I was wearing a mask, too.”
“We Monks do not see with our eyes,” he said calmly. “We see through Qi—through presence.”
Qi? I must have looked puzzled, because Helen chuckled softly.
“It’s difficult to explain. If you are not a practitioner, you would not understand.”
“Ah… right.”
I didn’t press.
You never pressed when talking to n like him—spiritual types with shaved heads and serene smiles. Ask one wrong question, and next thing you know, you were dragged off to so mountain temple to “find inner peace.”
“You ca to look at the weapons, I assu?” he asked.
“Yes. Sothing like that.”
“I, too, ca to feel their Qi. Each one of these weapons contains the will of those who burned their lives to the end. The Goddess loves such fervor. As do her faithful.”
…Yeah, definitely the kind of talk I didn’t need more of. I nodded silently, pretending to listen, praying he’d finish soon.
“Liam Karavan, was it? Or should I say the Little Gladiator? No—‘Sword Demon,’ I believe, is your new na.”
Helen’s smile didn’t waver.
“You carry admirable energy. Even after a lifeti of training in the Sky Mountains, I have rarely encountered a human with such steel within him.”
“…”
“One day, I hope we et again in the Sky Mountains. When that day cos, co find us. The servants of the Sun Goddess will welco you. We hold great affection for those with unbreakable resolve.”
“….”
“It’s getting late. I’ll take my leave now, mysterious warrior.”
He bowed lightly, still smiling.
“May the Eternal Day be with you.”
It was the traditional blessing of the followers of the Sun Goddess, Revrua.
I clumsily mirrored his gesture, pressing my palms together and bowing back.
Then Helen turned and left—his back soon swallowed by the moonlit street.
Liam’s voice murmured in my mind.
「The Sky Mountains, huh. You’ll have to go there soday.」
“…Yeah.”
「But not yet. That place is far too dangerous for you as you are now.」
I agreed.
The Sky Mountains. The greatest range on the continent, lying on the border of the so-called 「Sky Empire」, Belma. A place said to hold every mystery in existence.
Legend claid that anyone who reached its highest peak could make any wish co true.
Adventurers from every race had thrown their lives away trying to climb it—chasing glory and miracles.
But in all history, only one race had ever truly conquered the Sky Mountains.
「Yes… the Dragons.」
The land of dragons—the Land of the Sky.
***
“You’re looking much better, young master.”
No sooner had Helen left than another familiar voice called from deeper inside the Hall of Honor.
Old Tom, the caretaker, approached, bright-eyed and lively even at this late hour.
“Ah, yes. I’m fine now.”
“Coming here right after recovering—truly passionate, aren’t you?”
“A fighter should always draw strength from the traces of past battles.”
“Ha! Truly, you are remarkable, young master…”
Complints slid off my tongue like breathing.
Tom bead and clapped his hands.
“So! What kind of sword do you seek this ti? You’ve earned a new dal, after all—you’re entitled to choose one weapon.”
“Hmm… I’m not sure. I was wondering which blade might make stronger.”
I made a show of studying the displays, though to , they all looked the sa—old, dull relics that had long since seen their pri.
This was Liam’s domain. My role was just to wait for his choice.
“Would you like to explain them?” Tom asked eagerly. “The one you took last ti—‘Fang’—was a fine piece. It once belonged to an assassin from the Free City of Crowley.”
“Ah.”
“He lived for freedom, fighting to the very end. His courage was so inspiring that the Arena purchased his blade at auction. To stand before overwhelming fire and never retreat—magnificent, isn’t it? I’m sure Goddess Refri welcod him with open arms.”
“Yes, I’m sure she did…”
“And this one here—”
As soon as I stopped responding, Tom just kept talking—his excitent multiplying with each sentence. All I could do was cast desperate glances at Liam.
Please. Pick one already.
“This spear belonged to a limping fighter,” Tom went on. “Even after losing a leg, he fought in match after match! Isn’t that poetic? Reality outshines chivalric tales, I always say. In that sense, I—”
Dear gods. If I didn’t stop him soon, my ears might start bleeding.
「That one.」
Finally, Liam’s voice cut in, calm and absolute.
I turned to where he indicated—and blinked.
“…That one?”
「You heard . It’s not a mistake. That one.」
Even among the many odd weapons he’d chosen before, this one stood out. But Liam’s tone left no room for doubt.
「Take it. It suits you now more than any other.」
When the master of Ten Swords commands, the disciple obeys. So I looked toward the sword he ant. Tom, noticing my gaze, broke off mid-sentence.
“Ah, I see one has caught your eye.”
“Yes.”
“Falling for a sword is a lot like falling in love. You see it once, and you’re helpless.”
Tom chuckled, clearly mistaking my uncertainty for infatuation.
“It’s an unusual piece, but charming in its own way. Shall I prepare it for you?”
“Yes, please.”
Tom carefully lifted the blade from its mount and handed it to .
It was incredibly light.
Of course it was.
“Please treat it with care,” Tom said warmly.
Because half of the blade was missing.
In truth—“Its na is ‘Gale.’”—it was a broken sword.
***
A broken sword.
I had never ingested one in such a state before. Even the oldest blades I’d eaten still had so integrity left to them. But 「Gale」 was different.
Its edge was shattered, its surface corroded, its value as a weapon—or even as a relic—long gone.
Every other weapon in the Hall had been lovingly preserved, their rust cleaned and their edges restored.
Not this one.
Tom had explained why.
“The damage itself carries aning. That form best represents the will of the warrior who wielded it. To restore it would be to erase his final mont.”
I hadn’t understood at the ti.
Now, back in my room, I placed 「Gale」 into the flas.
The heat rose high enough to sting my skin.
Liam’s voice ca, heavy with warning.
「My young descendant.」
“Yes, Master.”
「You’ll need focus for this one. More than ever before.」
“Why?”
He had never warned like that before.
「The will inside that sword is strong enough to consu you.」
The will? Just what kind of life had been forged into this blade?
Every weapon I’d eaten so far carried a fragnt of its wielder’s soul.
The rcenary Mary’s 「Needle」—a life of struggle and survival.
The assassin’s 「Fang」—a desperate hunger for freedom.
Fetel’s 「Twilight」—the gentle warmth of a friend.
And 「Wild Instinct」—the unyielding spirit of the orc hero Beric, who fought to the very end.
Each one had been fierce in its own way.
None of them had been small.
“I’ll endure it.”
I said it with conviction.
「…Then brace yourself. Don’t lose your mind.」
Whatever lay within this sword, I would face it head-on.
“Here we go.”
I pulled 「Gale」 from the fire, the tal glowing red-hot, and brought it to my lips.
The taste of iron filled my mouth as I bit down, chewing, swallowing.
Heat surged through my body like molten steel. And then ca the mories—crashing in waves.
『You once told this.』
『That I was like the wind.』
『And you were right.』
The stench of blood filled my nose.
Overwhelming, suffocating.
『My life was a single gust of wind.』
『And so was my sword.』
***
Ti passed in the Steel City. Since arriving, Seol Yoon had followed the sa disciplined routine she’d practiced even back at my estate. anwhile, the streets had grown impossibly crowded.
Ferma overflowed with warriors—many strong enough that even Seol Yoon regarded them with caution.
Elves from the Eternal Forest, demonkin from beyond the “Wall of Despair,” wandering heroes from distant lands.
It was proof of how monuntal the Infinite Duel truly was.
Day after day, the city swelled with excitent.
By the ti the long-awaited day finally arrived, it was nearly impossible to even walk through the streets.
And when morning broke—
“You…”
“Ah, just in ti. Didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”
Seol Yoon turned—and for a mont, she froze.
Arhan stood before her, looking… different.
Not in body. In presence.
Like a man who had walked through storms and learned to smile at thunder.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly.
“To enter the Infinite Duel.”
He looked, for all the world—like a wandering swordsman of legend.
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