Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Chapter 24: The Warrior’s Trance

A freezing blizzard engulfed my body.

The cold pierced straight into my bones, snapping my consciousness awake. It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of icy water over my head.

I looked around. People were staring at me with eyes full of fear.

I knew instinctively. I had made a fool of myself.

Even if that bastard had insulted my parents, the punishment I gave was far too severe. I should’ve held back—at least a little.

At some point, I’d completely lost control of my reason.

“Planning to become a barbarian instead of a warrior?”

Retina spoke to me as I stood there blankly. She was pressing her temples with her fingers, as though nursing a headache.

I had no words to offer. I only lowered my head deeply.

Seeing my repentant posture, Retina sighed. Shaking her head, she said,

“We’re done here. Let’s go. As for the wounded over there… if they’re still alive, take them to a doctor.”

“They’re still breathing, at least.”

That was when it happened.

A man stepped out from behind Retina. A scar ran across his forehead, and his blunt expression gave him a cold air. His sharp, defined features made him look even more forbidding.

“I’m Kazan. The current leader of the Black Dragon.”

Suspicion filled my eyes. As far as I knew, the Black Dragon’s leader position was vacant. Was I misinformed?

Just as I was about to ask, someone cried out in astonishment.

“The Black Dragon! The same mercenary corps that even the Emperor himself issues direct commissions to?!”

The crowd began to murmur. Moments ago, they had backed away from me as though I were some terrifying monster. But now, their gazes had changed.

They looked at me with a strange mix of fear and fascination.

“So your name’s Leon, was it? I heard you weren’t the type to cause trouble. What happened here?”

He didn’t rush to scold me. He merely waited, wearing a calm, measured expression.

He wanted to know the full story—thorough, as expected of the Black Dragon’s leader.

I parted my lips and spoke quietly.

“He insulted my parents. Said my mother was raped by my father and that I was born from that, and afterward she became pig feed.”

“A case of anti-barbarian discrimination, huh. Common enough in the Empire. The bastard earned his fate.”

At that, people’s faces eased. They finally understood my actions.

In any era, insulting someone’s parents could be reason enough for death—especially in this world, where life was treated so cheaply.

No one would mourn a crippled man who had brought that upon himself.

I looked at Kazan with intrigue.

Most people judged good and evil based solely on what they saw before them. But Kazan was different.

He asked for details and, in the end, acknowledged the legitimacy of my act of killing.

Even though I was just a fellow member of the Black Dragon, I hadn’t expected such defense from him.

“However, that doesn’t change the fact that you caused a disturbance.”

Kazan drew his sword as he spoke.

“Prove the righteousness of your actions. If you truly have the right, then you should be able to stand against me to some degree.”

There was something in his words that stirred my curiosity. At the same time, I realized—he was testing me.

The Black Dragon’s standards for recruitment were notoriously strict. He hadn’t seen my skills firsthand, so naturally, his curiosity must have gotten the better of him.

I wasn’t about to miss this chance. The very reason I joined the Black Dragon was to fight opponents of knight-level strength.

It bothered me a little that this would happen in front of a crowd, but… it didn’t matter.

I slowly drew my sword.

People watched us with eager eyes, glancing back and forth between Kazan and me. A duel without death—this was the greatest form of entertainment in a world so barren of pleasures. Of course they were excited.

I gazed steadily at Kazan.

He was a different kind of strong compared to Garan.

If Garan stood at a level so high I couldn’t even dream of reaching him, Kazan seemed just a step below that.

Not weaker—just different.

The aura radiating from his entire body, his piercing eyes that looked as though they could see straight through me, even the way he held his sword—

Every aspect of him was at least three steps beyond my own.

Yet, there was something else about him—a strange, familiar presence that I couldn’t quite define.

This duel was one I was sure to lose, just like with Garan. I couldn’t afford to lose focus to idle thoughts.

Right now, I needed only to pour out everything within me.

Our gazes clashed once in midair. Updates are released by novel·fire·net

I stepped forward slowly.

My foot, empowered by Jin Steps, sank into the ground. The impact rippled through the earth like a minor quake.

Kazan’s eyes widened slightly at the display of brute strength.

In that instant, I shot forward using the power of Jin Steps.

The Dawn-Drifting Falcon Step at full force—its trajectory completely different from before.

My movement was graceful, like a crane gliding through mist. Far too elegant for what one would expect from a warrior known for his ferocity.

Our swords clashed in midair. The impact sent Kazan skidding backward.

A long groove was etched into the ground—marks from where he’d braced himself against my strength.

Even Garan had once clicked his tongue in admiration at my physique. In terms of raw power, I had confidence I could surpass even Kazan.

But then—Kazan’s eyes changed.

A hum rang from his sword. A sword cry.

The eerie, resonant tone made my eyes widen.

Someone in this world could use a sword cry?

That was a martial arts concept.

Only those deeply versed in swordsmanship could summon it.

For someone here, in this world, to display it?

There was no time to be shocked. Kazan deflected my blade.

It wasn’t brute force that did it. It was soft overcoming hard—a gentle motion that dispersed my sword’s power and bounced it aside.

In mere moments, he had analyzed my strength. Like a Taoist master, he blocked each of my strikes using the least effort possible.

A gasp escaped my lips.

Not only could he unleash a sword cry, but his swordsmanship was also on another level entirely.

No… could I even call this swordsmanship?

Kazan’s sword possessed depth.

It was a form forged from countless real battles—an art of his own creation.

The intent contained within his sword far surpassed mine.

His sword was no longer merely a technique (art). It was a law.

A storm-like flurry of blades swept toward me. With each strike I barely deflected, sweat poured from my body like a waterfall.

It was like watching a Sword Demon move.

Yet, the one who was actually winning—Kazan—didn’t look pleased. His eyes were wide, filled not with triumph but with astonishment.

I couldn’t understand him. Why was he making that face while pushing me to my limits?

I quickly erased my unnecessary thoughts. Kazan was strong. If I wanted to last even a moment longer, I needed to focus on his sword.

In fact, I was gaining enlightenment in the middle of the fight. Kazan’s swordsmanship was on a completely different level from anything I had seen before.

The way he gripped his sword, the angle of his elbows, the power behind each step—

From the smallest details to the greatest, everything was worth learning.

At the same time, a thunderclap seemed to explode inside my mind.

Just by watching Kazan’s sword, I realized—

Everything I had practiced until now had been wrong.

I could almost hear something shattering inside me. That sound was the breaking of all those days I had spent training the wrong way, the ignorance of never understanding the difference between a warrior and a martial artist.

The essence of a warrior was to polish one’s body to the extreme, until the body itself became a weapon—a spear, a sword, an axe, or a mace.

Then, what was the pinnacle of a martial artist?

A flash of insight burst in my head. Inspiration poured forth endlessly. Once I denied everything I had known, a new path appeared before me.

My sword traced a form in the air. At some point, Kazan disappeared from my sight.

But I didn’t notice. I couldn’t afford to—my mind was consumed by the inspiration blooming within.

The Twelve Celestial Sword Styles consist of twelve forms. But why have I only ever used two?

It was because I had been swinging my sword the wrong way all this time. I adjusted my stance—the preparatory movement before a swing.

If one’s stance was flawed, the sword art itself could never be right.

After correcting it, I began to unfold the Twelve Celestial Sword Styles.

The first form, the second, and then the third.

Each flowed seamlessly into the next, like water running downhill.

My vision grew hazy. Ah… how had I failed to see something so simple all this time? Or should I be grateful that I finally understood it now?

I felt a surge of gratitude toward Count Reinhardt. If he hadn’t told me to go to the Empire, I would’ve remained in Elphrel, stubbornly practicing my flawed swordsmanship forever.

This was a miraculous encounter I could not afford to lose.

I couldn’t stop swinging my sword. Before I knew it, my pupils had gone unfocused, and I was moving purely on instinct.

I had entered the state every martial artist dreamed of—the Trance of No-Self.

I merely continued performing the Twelve Celestial Sword Styles.

Unaware that Kazan was guarding me by my side.

Unaware that Retina was maintaining a magical barrier to protect me.

I had completely fallen into a state of no-self.

What in the world is that boy?

Kazan’s brows furrowed.

The scar across his forehead creased deeper.

To draw out the sword’s cry at that age… how did Commander Garan find someone like him?

He had heard that Garan and Leon met by coincidence. But Kazan didn’t believe that. The Black Dragon had many enemies.

From time to time, spies pretending to be ordinary mercenaries would infiltrate the corps to steal information.

He had thought Leon was one of them.

But now, that thought had changed.

Fifteen years old, wasn’t he? His body’s already fully developed. His swordsmanship too—far above average. He’s not someone you’d waste as a mere spy.

To Kazan, Leon was like an unpolished gemstone. One that had yet to shine, but was already invaluable.

Even so, his talent was extraordinary. Kazan couldn’t even imagine how strong the boy would become once properly honed.

He wanted to test him—to see how far that raw stone could go. A vague sense of yearning welled up inside him.

He had been considering retirement for some time now. Ever since Commander Garan stepped down, Kazan had known that if he left as well, the Black Dragon might not endure.

So he had hesitated until now. But his thoughts had changed.

If he could polish this gemstone, the Black Dragon would rise again— Rise as high as it had in Garan’s days.

It could once more become the mercenary corps admired by all.

“Retina,” Kazan said.

“Is Ryan on the same level as Leon?”

“No, Ryan isn’t quite at that level. But he’s talented. If he keeps working hard, he’ll definitely reach the ranks of the strong someday.”

“Good. Two remarkable talents joining the Black Dragon—splendid. With a bit of time, things might return to how they once were. But tell me, do you know why Leon entered that state just now?”

“I’m not sure. But he’s had similar episodes before. After each one, his energy flow would change slightly.”

“He’s had an enlightenment, then.”

A quiet exclamation escaped Kazan’s lips.

Just how deep was the insight he’d gained to move like that unconsciously?

Even for Kazan, who had traveled the world and seen countless phenomena, Leon’s condition was something he’d never witnessed before.

As Kazan watched him carefully—

Leon collapsed to the ground. It had been nearly ten hours since he’d started swinging his sword. It was no surprise his body finally gave out.

Kazan slung Leon over his shoulder.

The weight suited his build; the heaviness made Kazan chuckle softly.

He led his companions back to the place where he was staying.

And so, the next morning—