‘I see it now… the flaws.’
The advance and retreat of the sword, the entanglement of power, and the threads of counterattacks. What if I had struck there like that? Or if I had done this here? The shortcomings of his swordplay during the fierce battles became clear to him.
[Greatsword techniques aren’t about brute strength, brother.]
A memory surfaced—his swordsmanship training at the Inquisition Office, which now felt like a distant past. Back then, he didn’t understand, but now he did. The essence of greatsword techniques lies in rotational force and counterattacks.
So, all this time, his swordsmanship had been no different from a strong child wildly swinging a club.
‘How did this happen?’
Diemonica’s body rejects magical power. Vaitas’ divine nature is diametrically opposed to dark magic, and the Diemonica procedure, which fuses this into the body, ultimately hinders reaching the pinnacle of martial arts.
It was hard to say he had reached the pinnacle now, but with Diemonica’s body, there was a limit to his growth.
Yet, this vision… this blooming sensation—how should it be explained? Fernandez frowned, gripped his sword hilt, and stepped out into the rain-soaked training ground in the dead of night.
-Planning to dance with your sword in the middle of the night?
‘I need to clear my head.’
-Haha, do you even have a head left to clear?
‘Faijashi, you should remind yourself that I know as much as you do. Isn’t that contradictory?’
Fernandez chuckled and opened the tent door.
Like tempered steel. Like quenching molten metal in oil. His body burned hot, then cooled rapidly.
For Fernandez, who had always pushed his body to the brink of functionality, this was a rare moment of being in near-perfect condition.
-Swoosh…
Rainwater streamed down the blade. Fernandez stood tall, sword in hand, staring into the darkness of the training ground. It felt possible now.
-Swish…
The blade halted, sensing the resistance of the air. Though space isn’t a physical entity, the sensation of cutting through it with his sword’s edge was palpable—like tearing silk with a dagger.
-Crack. Crack.
The feeling of driving the blade into thin ice, just a little more—
-Crackle…
A warrior who has reached the pinnacle is surrounded by magical power. This doesn’t just mean their physical abilities have transcended human limits. Such warriors can touch the realm of magic through their combat skills.
-Crackle…
The battles, near-death experiences, and battlefields they’ve endured throughout their lives melt into their techniques, forming the essence, and finally—
-CRACK!!!
He slashed. Fernandez felt the swelling tendons in his forearm as he sheathed his sword. His heart pounded wildly, sweat pouring down like rain. His overheated blood vessels finally returned to normal under the cold winter rain.
“You’ve reached that level.”
“Abel.”
At the edge of the training ground, under the eaves, Abel was watching him. She opened her umbrella with a snap and walked slowly toward him.
“Impressive. You’ve reached the level of that child, Dain, from back then.”
“I’m still lacking.”
Having crossed swords with King Dain, he knew. The precision, power, and experience of Dain’s swordsmanship. Dain was likely the closest to being the strongest human of his time.
The swordsmanship that could rend space. What Fernandez had displayed was merely a crude imitation, like copying answers from a cheat sheet.
“Not everyone can excel at everything. Some never even realize such a level exists, while others dream of it as they sleep. You have your own strengths, don’t you?”
Abel handed him the umbrella. Raindrops poured onto it, creating a noisy patter. Fernandez looked into Abel’s smiling eyes under the umbrella.
“So, be proud. You were once a child in swordsmanship. Now… you’ve become a full-fledged knight.”
“This level was impossible with Diemonica’s body. Do you know how this happened?”
“Yes, it’s an impossible level for those who carry Vaitas’ divine nature. I still don’t sense solidified magical power in you. But your soul has grown, Fernandez. You no longer seem bound by a mortal’s soul.”
Having crossed countless near-death experiences, having truly faced death and absorbed it into his being. Mortals can only die once, but Fernandez was different.
He had faced death many times. Crossing the line of death wasn’t just a figure of speech for him—it was literal. Not just the risk of death, but actual deaths…
All those deaths, all those experiences, had fully melted into his soul. Tempered in battles against ancient heroes, great warriors, and overwhelming foes, surviving and turning them into achievements.
His soul, refined like tempered steel, was no longer that of an ordinary human. The divine nature of his body and the level of his soul had forged him anew.
“Are you saying I’ve attained the level of an immortal?”
“…Almost. I still sense the unique divinity of Diemonica in you. But it’s more than that. Your soul has transcended mortality, reaching the threshold of ascension. That’s why…”
