"Mr. Geralt's death has caused quite a stir among the adventurers."
"We've already dispatched people to investigate, though there's a high chance we won't find the culprit in the end."
Inside the Adventurers' Guild eting room—
Assistant Gina reported the series of events following Geralt's death. Sid tapped the table lightly, then shifted his gaze toward Gapar, who sat across from him.
At that mont, the Sword Saint was staring at the recording crystal displaying Geralt's corpse. His expression was dark, his eyes deep in thought.
"You know what kind of death this represents, don't you?" Sid said. "To deal with you, they even brought out a Hero Artifact."
Gapar nodded and reached out, turning off the recording crystal.
"I didn't expect them to be this bold—to activate a Hero Artifact here… His death is partly my responsibility."
"Let's not get into that for now. Are you really sure you don't need our help? Do you honestly believe they'll honor a one-on-one duel?"
Seeing Gapar remain silent, Sid's tone hardened.
"That's a hybrid of Demon King and Evil God bloodlines—two of the most despicable and cunning races in existence combined. Do you really think they'll play fair?"
"It's just a descendant of that hybrid," Gapar replied calmly. "How much of that original bloodline could still remain? His strength is far from that of his ancestors."
He shook his head.
"This is my battle."
Sid's expression shifted before he let out a helpless sigh.
"Then at least give a reason for going solo. Even sothing cliché would do—like they kidnapped thousands of people and forced you into this duel. At least then I could convince myself."
Gapar smiled faintly.
"The reason is simple. I'm cleaning up my master's ss. This is sothing only I can do."
"You really are…"
Sid exhaled slowly.
"For old tis' sake, if you die, don't expect to collect your body."
"Don't worry."
Gapar tapped his solid chest and looked up toward the distant sky.
"He's only comparable to my master. And now… I may have already surpassed what my master once was."
"Ugh. That smug look really pisses off."
Sid resisted the urge to slap him and said in a sulky tone,
"You're really heading out with just that little gear? They're using Artifacts, you know."
"So what?"
Gapar shrugged.
"I think the equipnt from the Sein Dungeon isn't inferior to Artifacts at all."
"Suit yourself."
Sid turned his head away. But when he heard Gapar stand and begin to leave—his footsteps fading into the distance—he couldn't help but call out:
"Send a ssage before you co back—I'll prepare a proper welco."
Gapar waved casually without turning back.
Leaving the guild, Gapar found a pegasus waiting at the entrance, already loaded with all his equipnt:
A plain black iron armor.
The Star-Lined Sword and a massive club-like magic staff.
A belt carrying Divine Blessing and various potions.
Miscellaneous gear.
And a silver shield.
He patted the horse's head. The pegasus took off, streaking westward like a teor toward the distant lands.
Sid and Gina stood by the window, watching his figure shrink into a tiny dot on the horizon.
"Who exactly is Mr. Gapar going to fight?" Gina couldn't help but ask.
"His fellow disciple," Sid replied slowly.
"When he was still training in swordsmanship, he apprenticed under the renowned Northern Sword Saint. He showed extraordinary talent and eventually beca the strongest among the disciples. Everyone believed he would inherit the title of Sword Saint."
"But later, a rival appeared. Soone who suddenly revealed talent equal to his own—progressing at an astonishing rate, and just as highly anticipated."
"…Did they fall out?" Gina asked.
"No. They were always close—closer than brothers."
Sid sighed.
"But that relationship ended when Gapar left the mountain to train. When he returned, he found that his friend had slaughtered their master… and all their fellow disciples."
"…Why?" Gina asked quietly.
"Because his bloodline—from a Demon King and an unknown Evil God—required blood sacrifices."
Sid's voice grew heavier.
"No one knows how he hid it for so long. There wasn't a single trace of anything non-human about him."
"Since then, Gapar has been hunting him—but never succeeded in capturing him. anwhile, that man continued challenging those who bore the title of Sword Saint… slaughtering them across the east, south, west, and north… until no one dared claim the title anymore. Even those strong enough chose to remain anonymous."
"The reason Gapar took the title of Sword Saint… was largely to draw him out. To avenge all the innocent lives lost."
"And now… he's finally getting his wish."
In Bedford City—
Darrick watched Gapar depart. A man with no faith in gods, he still found himself offering a silent prayer.
"Boss, look—a shooting star!" Maru pointed excitedly at the sky after exiting the dungeon.
Leon narrowed his eyes.
Inside the Magic Item Shop, Wade waved toward Gapar's departing figure.
"Is this the kind of mont where I'm supposed to say sothing like a blessing?" he muttered to himself.
"Then… long may the sun shine."
One week later — Borderlands
The closer one traveled toward the western continent occupied by demons, the more desolate the scenery beca.
Green grasslands turned yellow… then gave way to cracked, barren earth.
Living creatures grew scarce, but those that remained beca increasingly ferocious—until eventually, everything encountered was a monster.
All settlents of intelligent beings were heavily fortified—either protected by towering walls or hidden within treacherous terrain.
The reason needed no explanation.
Gapar traveled nonstop for a week. Riding a mount rivaling a griffin, he reached the border in the shortest possible ti.
On the horizon stood a towering wall hundreds of ters high:
Titan Fortress.
A massive barrier separating the civilized world from the western continent. If demons launched a large-scale invasion, this would be the first line of defense. Each nation was responsible for maintaining the section within its borders.
Between the two worlds lay countless natural obstacles—rifts, mountains, swamps… Combined with Titan Fortress, it should have been an impenetrable defense.
And yet, the constant demon attacks occurring across the world proved just how fragile it truly was.
Not every nation took it seriously. Not every nation had the strength to maintain it.
Fortunately, the Yanor Kingdom's border troops were responsible for this section.
Unfortunately, demons could exploit weaknesses elsewhere.
"Soone just flew over the fortress! Report to the general!" a guard shouted.
By the ti they reached the wall—
Gapar was already gone.
"I swear I saw soone…"
Gapar had already descended into a rift.
Looking up, he could see purple-black miasma lingering above—but it remained confined to the western continent, not leaking even into the rift.
This was the agreed battlefield.
Originally, he had planned to prepare above, but the fortress guards had cleared all vegetation to prevent infiltration—wiping out even the hardiest plants.
He didn't want any external factors interfering with this battle.
Win or lose.
The mont he entered the rift, he sensed a long-familiar presence.
His expression didn't change.
Guiding the pegasus downward, he followed the source.
There stood a tall, slender figure with his back turned. Long garnts fluttered in the wind, and silver-black hair flowed like a waterfall.
"You finally ca."
The young man turned, revealing a face that was handso—almost unnaturally beautiful.
Two swords rested at his waist—one long, one short. With a soft shing, they unsheathed themselves and floated beside him.
"I've been waiting a long ti. If you didn't show up soon… I might've just destroyed that fortress."
Black, ominous energy swirled around him—filled with distorted human faces, each one familiar to Gapar.
Beyond that darkness shimred faint starlight—like sothing calling from beyond the cosmos.
Malevolence and the bizarre fused into one.
"Conrad."
Gapar spoke his na as if addressing a stranger, drawing his Star-Lined Sword.
"Oh? Nice weapon. Your collection has grown again."
Conrad smiled.
"How about a wager? If you lose, give half your collection—"
A streak of blue sword energy shot toward him.
Conrad sidestepped, narrowing his eyes.
"Starting this intense right away… you haven't changed at all."
Gapar's gaze was as sharp as a lion's.
In a single step, he vanished—reappearing directly before his enemy.
His robe fluttered, revealing black armor beneath that enhanced his physical strength.
Clang!
Steel collided, echoing throughout the rift as Conrad blocked with his short sword.
A mont later, opposing shockwaves erupted—splitting the cliffs with countless cracks and sending dust soaring into the air.
"General, sothing's happening over there!" a guard reported.
"Don't go! Absolutely don't go!" the general shouted, clutching his head.
"It's another duel between monsters! Order everyone to stay away—pretend we saw nothing!"
Every few months, so powerful lunatics would show up here and start fighting. He was losing his mind.
Within monts, Gapar and Conrad had already exchanged countless blows.
Conrad kept talking nonstop.
"No greeting, just straight to fighting? So cold. After all these years, don't you wonder what I want?"
Gapar answered with a flying kick.
"Using your legs now? Has your swordsmanship declined?" Conrad laughed, retreating while forcing Gapar back with waves of black sword light.
Gapar stopped—silent as ever.
"After all these years, I never told you why I did it, did I? You didn't think I was so infiltrator, did you?"
Conrad ran a hand along his blade.
"I only learned the truth that day—that I'm the descendant of a Demon King and an Evil God. Sounds impressive, right? But I don't even know their nas. By the ti that bloodline reached , it was barely there. I always thought I was human."
"Then I heard a revelation—offer enough blood, and my potential would awaken… How could I refuse?"
"You think I hesitated before killing them? No. The mont I heard it, I pushed my junior off a cliff. I never regretted it."
"By the way, do you know why I called you here? I've got a grand plan—"
A slash of sword energy cut through the cliff behind him.
"You talk too much."
Gapar spoke for the first ti.
He vanished instantly.
"Hmm?"
For the first ti, Conrad showed surprise.
He turned to block—
—and his sword was knocked away.
What?!
How had his strength suddenly increased so much? They had been evenly matched just monts ago—
He was holding back!
Before Conrad could react, Gapar's blade cut clean through him—from shoulder to thigh.
His body hit the ground.
But Gapar didn't lower his guard. He imdiately retreated.
"Pfft… still as cautious as ever. Couldn't fool you."
Black energy surged, reconstructing Conrad's body.
"This is the power granted by the gods. Swordsmanship no longer works on . The other Sword Saints all despaired when they saw this."
He smiled.
"Now, let explain why I called you—"
He watched Gapar closely, expecting to see fear, anger, or despair.
His endless chatter was ant to provoke negative emotions—because his power fed on them.
But then—
Gapar sheathed his sword.
"What, giving up?" Conrad mocked.
No.
The Sword Saint wasn't giving up.
He was simply changing thods.
Picking up the massive club-like magic staff, he tapped it lightly against the ground.
"Let's begin the second round."
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