< 139. Dragon and Tiger Clash >
*
Fernandez sat cross-legged on his bed, reflecting on the recent battle. He wasn’t just replaying his spar with Ludwig, but also revisiting his past duels one by one, sinking into deep meditation.
‘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.
*
The blade sliced through the rain, droplets splattering off its edge. The sensation of raindrops clinging to the tip was new. His heart raced with each fierce movement, his body heating up as the cold rain of early winter cooled his skin.
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…”
“I’ll do it.”
It wasn’t about fully ascending to godhood or becoming a demigod. If anything, it was about reaching the threshold of transcendence, where a mortal gains the divine spark of immortality. Fernandez knew about this state. He never thought he’d reach it, though…
‘Another thing I couldn’t achieve in my past life.’
-Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say you didn’t try, rather than couldn’t?
‘No, I couldn’t.’
To enter the gateway of transcendence, often referred to as the path of a quasi-deity, one must stand alone. Neither gods nor demons should be worshipped or revered. Only the achievements built by one’s own strength can forge divinity for a mortal.
When their power finally reaches its peak, when their accomplishments surpass those of mortals, they attain divinity. The great gods of the Temple of the Gods and the great demons of hell all went through this process.
So, in his past life, it was impossible. For Faijashi, a demon worshipper, it was an unreachable state. In fact, even back then, few reached the level of a quasi-deity. It was an era where survival without borrowing the power of transcendent beings was nearly impossible.
“If you want to spar, I’ll oblige… but it seems this isn’t the time for a breakthrough in swordsmanship. How about returning to the Church?”
“There are still things I need to do. Will you join me?”
“Gladly.”
Abel smiled brightly and handed him an umbrella. Fernandez took it and pondered for a moment. Could this be…?
-Yes, she wants you to walk her home, you idiot.
Faijashi grumbled.
*
The withdrawal of the Eastern Kingdom Alliance was nearing its final countdown. With so many knights trying to approach him whenever he stepped outside during the day, Fernandez found himself unintentionally confined to his tent.
He spent his time organizing his belongings and occasionally meditating. Sitting cross-legged with his greatsword resting on his thighs, he closed his eyes. Just then, the tent flap opened.
“Sorry to disturb your rest, Sir Knight. A guest has arrived…”
“Step aside.”
“Wait, just a moment—ah!”
As Fernandez slowly opened his eyes, someone strode into the tent. The attendant stumbled back, and the figure pushed past roughly.
A glossy black cloak fluttered dramatically. Long, beautiful black hair and a tightly fitted leather armor came into view. Fernandez looked at Kirhas, who was smiling at him.
“What about your tribe?”
“Didn’t you already expect this?”
“I did.”
Kirhas glanced at Fernandez’s belongings and set her own things down beside him.
“Is there still room? I want to join.”
“Kirhas. You could rise to a greater position in a better environment.”
Fernandez sheathed his blade and looked at her. Kirhas perked her ears and smiled confidently. Yet, he could sense unease in her drooping tail.
“I wanted you to live in your homeland, enjoying the rights given to you.”
“But… there’s no ‘Your Excellency’ there.”
“Won’t you regret it? The things you’re giving up were meant to be yours.”
A chieftain loved by all, ruler of the Great Wilderness, the undefeated. Such titles, along with the followers, wealth, and influence that came with them, could have been hers.
But Fernandez’s path was far more humble. Far more tragic. It was like a race where death was always by his side. The moment death overtook him, that would be his end.
A path that could never stop, yet its destination remained distant, with only a sliver of hope for success. Fernandez didn’t want to take Kirhas down that road.
According to Abel, he and Kirhas were drifters. Wanderers who had escaped their own timelines and met in this one. But Kirhas was different. This era was her present, her time.
So, Fernandez felt indebted to her. A different kind of debt than what he owed Abel. Guilt for twisting her destined path according to his own will.
“My place is by Your Excellency’s side.”
Kirhas smiled as she looked into Fernandez’s eyes. She already knew his true nature. He had confessed that he had taken her in merely to use her.
But Kirhas thought, if he had truly wanted to use her, he would have kept her. There were far easier ways to brainwash and train her.
Fernandez revealing everything to her and offering her a new position wasn’t just out of guilt or obligation. Kirhas smiled brightly at him.
It wasn’t guilt. It was sincerity. A genuine care for her.
“So, is there still room by Your Excellency’s side?”
“…Always.”
“Then gladly.”
The long ordeal of running alongside death. Without doubt, without fear, sadness, or regret. Kirhas vowed to move forward with him.
“I gladly pledge my loyalty, Your Excellency.”
The dark mage who whispered that purpose mattered more than reason, and the young slave girl who joined hands for revenge, were no longer here.
There was a man who wanted to leave his loved ones in a safe place before pursuing his goals. And here was a woman who declared that her reason and purpose would be solely him.
-Saruk.
Kirhas slowly approached and bowed to Fernandez, who was sitting. Fernandez didn’t push her away. For a moment, their breaths intertwined.
“Don’t oaths usually go on the back of the hand?”
“Isn’t that a bit too mundane?”
Kirhas smiled brilliantly and whispered. She had taken another step forward. Internally, she cheered, her confident smile widening.
Fernandez chuckled and nodded. If the undefeated Kirhas was joining him, then yes, it was doable. No matter what the enemy was. Even if she lost her stigma and magic, she would still be a great asset.
Now, it was time to start the next plan. Winter was approaching. It was time to return to the Inquisition Office.
After a long summer and autumn, winter had arrived. And winter, with its icy winds, was the season to head toward the coldest places.
For the world, winter was a time to gather around cozy campfires. But for them, winter was the season to march toward the coldest, harshest places.
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