Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The martial world had always been a cruel place.

It was where those you trusted would stab you in the back and sneer with a vile grin.

Such was the martial world.

And yet, it was also a world brimming with romance.

After plots and betrayals, sharing a cup of wine with the one who remained truly yours.

Such was the martial world.

And I—Chun Gwang—had always loved that world where danger and romance coexisted.

Once, I had grown up as a beggar, taken in by a wandering outlaw who happened to pass by.

Ordinary outlaws would never bother to pick up a beggar, so that man must have had his reasons.

After all, there wasn’t a single outlaw in this world who would take in a beggar just because his eyes looked unusual.

As time passed and I became a young man, I turned into a wandering ronin.

The outlaw who had once taken me in had long been dead.

Not long after he picked me up, he tried to sell me off as a slave—so I waited until he slept and killed him.

Since then, I had wandered every corner of the martial world.

I had been robbed by mountain bandits, beaten half to death by passing outlaws, but somehow, I had survived.

By sheer luck, my life endured—and so I drifted through the Central Plains.

There was no one there who would welcome me.

The only martial art I had learned was the Three Talents Sword Technique, and even that was so crude that I could lose to a couple of bandits.

A ronin of my level was useless anywhere.

But I had no intention of doing anything else.

I longed for the martial world.

Like the great masters, I wanted to feel its romance for myself.

A third-rate ronin like me could never dream of such a thing—yet I refused to give up.

I continued to practice the Three Talents Sword Technique and wander the lands.

An official request arrived from the Martial Alliance.

It was the sort of request that made me question their sanity.

A ronin with a success rate below one percent—receiving a commission directly from the Alliance?

But once I heard the details, I understood.

The task was simple: to read the martial scripture left behind by the Martial God.

Two hundred years ago, there had been a man known as the Martial God. Before his death, he cast a secret spell upon his martial manual.

That spell decreed that whoever read the manual first would die.

To pass the teachings on, a sacrifice was required.

It was an art filled with malice—unbefitting of a man once revered as the Martial God.

I had never believed such a tale to be true.

Why would someone of such power commit such a petty act upon his death?

Even if a warrior valued his martial arts greatly, that was excessive.

Those around me tried to stop me.

“What good is it to see the Martial God’s manual with your own eyes, if you die afterward?”

“Even if you gain enlightenment and become a master, death makes it all meaningless.”

Anyone with sense would have refused.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t afraid of death—I simply wanted, more than anything, to step into the martial world in earnest.

So I did as the Martial Alliance instructed, and at the appointed place, I slowly read the Martial God’s manual from beginning to end.

As I read, I couldn’t help but let out exclamations of awe.

Even someone of my low level could tell just how profound the Martial God’s techniques were.

When I finished reading, I prepared myself for death. If the rumors were true, I would soon die.

A member of the Martial Alliance watching me sighed softly—it was too solemn a sight for the end of a mere third-rate ronin.

I couldn’t help but smile.

The way he silently stood watch over my final moments felt strangely comforting.

Just as I was about to speak my last words—

Darkness swallowed my vision.

When I opened my eyes, I—Leon—was overwhelmed by a surge of memories I could not comprehend.

I was five years old that year.

I blinked in confusion as the memories surfaced.

‘What are these memories…?’

They were memories I didn’t recognize—yet somehow, I knew them.

An age where honor and righteousness lived and breathed—and where betrayal and intrigue lurked everywhere.

I instinctively knew that these were memories of my past life.

At five years old, the very concept of a previous life was unfamiliar.

But as I recalled Chun Gwang’s life, I realized things no five-year-old should have understood.

Even if it was a past life, Chun Gwang’s existence had been unbearably tragic.

It was enough to draw a sigh of pity from me.

Yet, at the same time, a fire began to burn within my heart.

It was Chun Gwang’s yearning for the romance of the martial world—now flowing into me.

At only five, I was too young to recognize that these emotions were not mine.

It was natural—my sense of self had not yet fully formed.

But I did not feel confused.

Chun Gwang’s dream and my dream—Leon’s dream—were one and the same.

“Leon, what are you doing there?”

A deep, rugged voice called out from behind me.

When I turned, I saw a man standing there, a deer slung over each of his broad shoulders.

His hair was wild and mane-like, and a beast’s claw mark ran down his face.

To most people, his appearance would be terrifying—but I spoke calmly.

The man was my father, Zeke.

“I told you not to go outside today. It’s especially cold—so why are you here?”

“I wanted to pick some raspberries.”

The moment I answered, I gasped softly.

Usually, when Father questioned me, I couldn’t even form a proper answer.

Even though he was family, his fierce face had always made me freeze up.

But this time was different.

His gruff voice no longer frightened me. His gaze didn’t seem cold anymore.

Instead, it felt warm.

Zeke’s eyes widened at my bold reply.

He had always known that his son feared him.

To hear such a calm answer from that very child—

He couldn’t help but smile faintly and nod.

“Come to think of it, we’re out of strawberries at home. Let’s pick a few more—I’ll help you.”

Zeke set the deer down on the ground and began gathering wild strawberries alongside Leon.

As they picked berries together, Leon found himself lost in thought.

‘Strange… Just yesterday, Father was so terrifying, but today, he feels… familiar.’

Zeke’s appearance was the sort that made even adults uneasy, let alone a child.

Three long scars slashed across his face as if a beast had clawed him, and his body was covered in marks from bites and blades alike.

To make matters worse, Zeke’s expression rarely changed, which made him all the more frightening to a young child.

But Leon thought that perhaps his calmness today came from recalling Chun Gwang’s memories.

Compared to the brutal men Chun Gwang had known—those who had taken him in only to sell him into slavery—Zeke’s fierce face seemed almost gentle.

When they finished gathering a large bundle of berries, father and son began descending the mountain.

Leon, still small, struggled to keep up with Zeke’s pace.

Noticing this, Zeke quietly slowed down.

Before long, their small cabin came into view at the foot of the mountain. It was home.

A woman chopping firewood nearby turned with a bright smile as they approached.

It was Leon’s mother, Heath.

“Two deer today? I’m guessing there weren’t any bears around?”

“There was one, but it ran off.”

“That’s a shame. Bear stew always tastes the best.”

Despite her words, her face was all smiles.

She took the deer from Zeke and turned to Leon.

“Leon, did you pick plenty of berries?”

“Father helped me, so I got a lot more than I expected.”

“Did you? That’s wonderful. Let’s make jam with what’s left tomorrow.”

Heath smiled tenderly and carried the deer toward the kitchen.

From the sound of something sizzling, it seemed tonight’s dinner would be roast venison.

While she cooked, Leon and Zeke set the table—placing plates, utensils, and cups neatly.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, dinner was ready.

Heath set the roasted venison proudly in the center of the table.

At her words, Leon clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. He wasn’t the only one.

Zeke and Heath, too, folded their hands and bowed their heads in prayer—to offer thanks to the deity they worshipped before every meal.

Once the prayer ended, Leon began to eat.

“Leon,” Zeke said casually between bites, “next time you go picking berries, take me with you.”

Leon answered with a small nod.

But Heath frowned slightly at Zeke’s words.

“He’s already five years old. He can pick berries on his own.”

“Five is still too young to be without protection. If a wild beast appeared, he wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“You caught a bear when you were five.”

At five years old, Zeke had taken down a bear—barehanded, no less.

People still said that, back then, Zeke had looked like the very incarnation of the Warrior God whom all warriors revered.

“Anyway, Leon,” Zeke changed the subject, “tomorrow you’ll be choosing your weapon. Have you decided which one you’ll take?”

When Leon shook his head, Zeke continued,

“Your brother and sister both chose the axe, like me. But you don’t have to follow them. Choose the weapon that suits you best.”

He lived in Elphrel, the Land of Warriors—

a nation where every citizen was raised to fight, and those who did not become warriors were considered without honor.

Leon had been born into a land where being a warrior was fate itself.

And his dream was to become the strongest warrior in Elphrel.

That was why he felt that Chun Gwang’s dream and his own were one and the same.

Chun Gwang had not only wanted to wander the martial world—he had wanted to become the strongest under heaven.

The desire to be the world’s greatest master was the same as Leon’s desire to be the mightiest warrior.

Leon suddenly remembered the martial techniques of the Martial God he had seen in his previous life.

Originally, he had planned to follow his father and wield an axe.

To young Leon, the strongest being in the world was his father.

It was only natural that he would want to use the same weapon as the man he admired most.

But as he recalled his past life, doubt began to creep in.

‘Is the axe truly the right weapon for me?’

A five-year-old’s heart leaned toward imitating his father.

But Chun Gwang’s cold reason—the remnant of his former self—was urging him toward the path of martial mastery.

He pondered and pondered.

Even as dinner ended, even as he lay down to sleep, the question gnawed at him.

And then came the next morning.

It was the day he would choose his weapon.

Zeke and Heath did not accompany him—they had their own duties as adults on such an important day.

Leon still hadn’t come to a decision as he walked toward the Warriors’ Square.

Children his age stood in a line at the center of the plaza, faces stiff with tension.

Some fidgeted nervously, while others stood tall and calm.

A few puffed their chests with confidence; others stared off, distracted.

A familiar voice called out to him.

He turned to see a young female warrior approaching.

It was his older sister.

“What are you thinking about so hard?”

“I still don’t know which weapon to choose.”

Elsa looked at him quietly. His expression was unusually serious—too serious for a five-year-old.

“You’re just like me, then.” Updates are released by novel⁂fire.net

“When I had to choose my weapon, I couldn’t decide for a long time—whether to pick the axe like Father, or find something that fit me better.”

As far as he knew, Elsa had chosen her weapon instantly.

“What would I gain from lying? Of course it’s true.”

“But I saw you. You grabbed the axe right away and decided on it.”

“So, I wanted to give you some advice,” Elsa said softly. “The weapon I thought suited me turned out to be the one that truly did.”

Leon couldn’t quite understand. Hadn’t she chosen the axe simply because she wanted to from the start?

“Leon, we’re the children of proud warriors.”

That much, Leon already knew.

“And for those born with the qualities of a warrior,” she continued, “the blood flowing within them naturally tells them which weapon is theirs. If you have that gift, your blood will guide you—so there’s no need to worry.”

Leon tilted his head in confusion.

The blood tells me what weapon to use?

What kind of nonsense was that?

He looked at Elsa blankly, but she only gave him a knowing smile.

“Budding warriors of Elphrel! Today is the day you choose the companion who will walk beside you for the rest of your lives.”

Leon turned toward the familiar voice that resounded through the square.

At the center stood the two figures who ruled Elphrel—the King and Queen—none other than Leon’s own parents, Zeke and Heath.

Zeke’s face was as stern as ever. Heath’s expression was gentle, as always.

They looked no different from how they always did, yet the sheer pressure that radiated from them made Leon’s body tense instinctively.

Though he had seen that same look countless times before, today he could feel the overwhelming aura flowing from them.

Is this… the dignity of Elphrel’s royal bloodline?

Even in Chun Gwang’s memories, he had never met anyone with such an overwhelming presence.

“Little warriors,” Zeke’s deep voice echoed solemnly, “the moment you find your companion, your lives will change forever. Choose carefully, and think deeply—for your future is yours to forge. I, Zeke Fritz, will always watch over the warriors of tomorrow.”

“I, Historia, share my king’s thoughts,” Heath added warmly.

Their words were brief, yet everyone in the square closed their eyes in quiet reverence.

For warriors, the day they chose their weapon was among the most sacred of all.

Even the spectators dared not speak, for fear of breaking the children’s concentration.

One by one, the young warriors began to select their weapons.

They picked up blades and spears sized for their small hands and swung them experimentally.

The soft whistle of weapons cutting through the air only deepened the heavy, solemn atmosphere.

Leon too reached out and wrapped his small hands around a weapon.

The first he chose was the axe.

It was a miniature version—light enough for a child to swing, yet its edge gleamed sharp enough to split stone.

The Martial God’s techniques never used an axe…

Even so, Leon’s reason for picking it up was simple—admiration.

He idolized his father, Zeke, the greatest warrior and King of Elphrel.

He looked down at the axe for a moment, then set it aside and reached for another weapon.

This time, he grasped a spear—one of the weapons he had seen in the Martial God’s manual.

But the moment his fingers wrapped around the shaft, an odd discomfort welled in his chest.

Something about it felt wrong.

He tried others in turn—halberds, maces, everything his small hands could reach.

But none of them stirred anything in his heart.

Could it be… I don’t have the blood of a warrior?

Unease crept across his face as his brow furrowed.

Before long, he had tried every weapon except one.

By now, nearly all the other children had chosen theirs.

Leon was the only one still undecided.

All eyes turned toward him—the youngest son of the King of Elphrel.

It was only natural that everyone’s attention would gather on the prince who could not find his weapon.

When the crowd saw where he was heading, their eyes widened in shock.

None dared to speak, but the tension in the square rose sharply.

He was walking toward the sword rack—where the longswords rested.

The longsword was a weapon of knights and paladins, used in the Empire and the Holy Kingdom—never in the land of warriors.

To wield such a weapon in Elphrel was nearly unthinkable.

The watching warriors exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes instinctively drifting toward King Zeke.

Zeke’s expression hardened slightly. He too hadn’t expected this.

The boy is reaching for… a sword?

Under the weight of countless gazes—

Leon reached out, and at last, his small hand closed around the hilt of the sword.