Chapter 70

Behind the mansion was an open space. It wasn’t very wide, but it was a practical size for two people to cross swords. Though, the vacant lot seemed a little out of place with the mansion’s landscape, suggesting it wasn’t originally included in the mansion’s design.

“Do you handle the sword well?”

The chairman asked.

Not really. The sword was always slower than imagined, less capable than hoped. But it was impossible to admit that truth in front of an opponent. Even though this duel happened out of provocation, it had become a matter of pride—less because the opponent wielded a sword too, and more because it was Current Sky’s grandfather; there was no way he could afford to lose.

“Yes, I handle it well.”

“Confidence is good, but…”

The chairman clicked his tongue and shook his head. It was a blatant form of psychological warfare, but he couldn’t help but feel riled up.

“If you’re so confident, then why don’t you let me watch? I don’t wield the sword very well, after all. Surely you don’t want to beat an old man like me.”

The Chairman goaded and then backed off, and it annoyed Doyugeon. He fully understood how Current Sky’s temperament was inherited. Of course, it wasn’t that Current Sky was annoyed—it might not even be that—but whatever frustration existed was irrelevant to the current situation.

The Secretary then brought out the D-grade sword he’d brought from home.

“Was it a good idea to bring that?”

“Yes…”

Her voice was friendly but this person was clearly a kindred spirit. Having fetched the sword, he wondered if this duel had been planned all along. A growing uneasiness gripped him. Still, it was too late to back out now.

He took a deep breath, shook off the tension, assumed his stance, and pointed his sword. Meanwhile, the Chairman stood calmly, without any equipment.

Feeling the Chairman’s inquisitive gaze, the Chairman smiled faintly.

“Do you know what it means to achieve in your youth? It’s all about how well you control your blood. Know when to bow, when to evade, and when to keep your breath. That is the skill you need in your youth.”

But that only applies if someone allows it.

The Chairman touched his bracelet, and with a click, a puff of black smoke enveloped him. It happened in the blink of an eye. His everyday outfit transformed into a set of equipment. As his eyes followed, a system message indicated the names and grades of the items. Each item was worth as much as a single building. It was utterly incomprehensible. It was impossible to even estimate how much money was spent or the potential power they held.

A feeling of helplessness caused his sword to tremble. Somehow, Current Sky felt distant even though she wasn’t there.

“Since it’s important to act according to the situation, when exactly do you think this is?”

Without a response, he manipulated the system.

A series of duel messages appeared:

[Doyugeon vs Cha Seongtaek]

[Location – Earth of the 71st World]

[Non-lethal Mode]

[Item Restrictions None]

[Skill Restrictions None]

[External Spectators Allowed]

[Third-party Entry Prohibited During Duel]

[Space Designated]

A line drew around the perimeter of the open space.

“What use is a sword that doesn’t fit the situation?”

The Chairman clicked his tongue as he spoke.

The countdown started.

5.

Unable to hold back his irritation, a retort slipped out.

“You, Grandpa, should have struck some poses when changing into your outfit. It would’ve been quite fitting!”

4.

On hearing this, the Chairman lowered his sword and looked at the Secretary.

“Do you understand the joke?”

3.

“He says that when you get old, people wish you’d hurry up and die. Changing outfits refers to your death clothes, and the pose is a way of teasing.”

That wasn’t at all what it meant.

0.

[Start]

“Is this interpretation correct?”

“Huh… do I have to be insulted at my age? Tsk.”

The chairman tossed the sword forward carelessly. The weapon, worth the price of a building, rolled around on the ground.

When the countdown ended, the open space was engulfed in an eerie silence. It was incredibly disconcerting.

“Not what I meant.”

“Is my interpretation wrong?”

“Yes… but…”

He tried to think of where to start so the misunderstanding could be cleared up. The duel wasn’t important right now. This was Current Sky’s grandfather, after all. There was nothing good about leaving things like this.

He lowered his sword, which had been shaking awkwardly.

The Chairman looked at him with disapproval.

“Say it wasn’t, do kids nowadays insult people’s faces and pretend otherwise?”

“Even we did that.”

“Not the point right now.”

“Still, it’s fair to give someone the chance to clarify. Was I wrong in interpreting?”

The Chairman’s intense gaze made him sweat coldly. He avoided eye contact and glanced at the Secretary.

“Yes. The mention of transformation was a metaphor related to magical girls, so it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Ah. I see. I thought it sounded that way.”

“Huh?”

At the sound of the Chairman approaching quickly, his posture became more haphazard, but he hurriedly raised his sword. His response depended purely on talent, and through this talent, he managed to divert the sword strike with difficulty.

Amidst the continuing sword strikes, the Secretary’s smooth voice could be heard.

“Since the Chairman understands, there’s really no need for explanations.”

Cowardice…

… Using his role as Current Sky’s grandfather to wage psychological warfare. Placed in a situation where he had to take it, Doyugeon felt an overwhelming sense of injustice.

His body swayed under the relentless sword strikes. Every strike was heavy. The weight was honest, and it wasn’t due to successful psychological tactics or the difference in items. It was only the weight of the difference in level. Pure strength borne from greater power and agility, fine-tuned according to the rules set by the system.

His posture wavered. He diverted one strike, acquiescing to the collapse of his stance before quickly rolling backward. The strike passed just above his forehead.

Using the momentum from the roll, he got up lightly and aimed his sword again.

They were now one step apart.

Just one step apart.

A distance where even catching one breath felt insurmountable.

But it was enough.

In that fleeting moment, his posture rapidly stabilized. His wobbling consciousness settled down, and everything found its rhythm in sync with the flow of combat.

When the next sword strike came, the element of surprise was gone. It was purely skill and the gap in levels that mattered now.

There was a slight opening, not enough for a counterattack, so he quickly stepped back a few steps.

The Chairman didn’t pursue him.

“Pffft! Attacking me like that all of a sudden, don’t you think it’s cowardly?”

The Chairman snickered.

“To fight fairly and still call it cowardice? You probably don’t know what real cowardice is.”

“It still is cowardly.”

The Secretary added quietly. The Chairman adjusted his stance without any particular reaction, seemingly ignoring it. That’s probably the case—Current Sky’s temperament truly was inherited.

A brief standoff ensued.

That pause allowed him to uncover a contradiction. He had unconsciously processed the imbalance he had felt during the previous clash and brought it to conscious awareness.

The Chairman’s swordplay level and stance don’t align.

Swordplay wasn’t just about swinging a sword; even without having met a swordplay master or receiving systematic training, he grasped that much.

When one wields a sword, it’s not only about swinging. It includes stance and breathing. To unleash a continuous series of strikes, one must remain vigilant to steps and the surrounding situation. Only then is it possible to wield full-force strikes.

But the Chairman’s swordplay didn’t do all that. His composed stance and calm footsteps minimized openings, but the advantage stemmed from a basic stance and walking manner. It was akin to demonstrating what the most basic and stable posture in swordplay should be. The kind of fundamental posture that would be repeatedly drilled as essential to systematic swordplay training.

However, such perfection was contrary to the essence of high-level swordplay. It was impossible to apply advanced techniques while maintaining all those fundamentals. High-level swordplay needed more than just basic stances to be effective.

There was harmony within the Chairman’s sword tip’s intent and the arc it carved, almost surpassing his own swordplay, yet it lost its luster due to these disharmonies. The reason he could bridge the gap of levels was because of this discordance. The inefficient sword strikes consumed his power. Still, even then, he couldn’t easily find an opening to counter-attack. It was clear the swordplay itself had reached a mysterious realm in its execution.

Intuitively, he guessed that this high level of swordplay was due to an item’s assistance—likely the sword. He envied this not because the Chairman wielded this remarkable sword, but because he had the chance to see such consistently high-level swordplay. Even though it lacked the other elements necessary for proper swordplay and barely deserved its name, it was admirable from his perspective, blocked by a lack of opponents.

So, now was the time to learn.

He rushed in.

The first attack. Item-assisted swordplay had introduced variability. The first-strike advantage was negated. The second attack. Level differences restricted him and wrested away the initiative.

This was the anticipated outcome.

He deflected the incoming strike. Blocking it head-on would have been overpowered. He concentrated on the next strike. While deflecting successive strikes, he sought to understand the underlying essence. He tried to extrapolate and imagine beyond the fragmented swordplay that lacked many elements. Countless fake teachings surfaced momentarily in his subconscious before disappearing.

None of them were correct. Merely plausible lessons filled in the gaps in the technique. These patched-together puzzles made no sense and were counterproductive.

Except, they weren’t meaningless.

Turning the meaningless into something meaningful.

Punching a hole through impossibility to create an exception.

That’s what talent was called.

“Wha…?”

He forcefully intruded upon the disharmony of the swordplay. He exploited the gap between the swordplay that aimed to apply techniques and the body trying to maintain basics, deflecting the strike and creating an opening.

The attack was unleashed with all his might.

His strongest blow.

This seemed like it would be the key to victory.

But then an unexpected event occurred. As the sword approached the armor, sparks erupted. The armor’s artificially provoked sparks scattered the incoming strike as the inertia from the attack brought the sword closer to the armor, fragmenting it.

His vision went blank.

The shattered pieces of the sword blade fell to the ground as the Chairman muttered.

“Huh… that surprised me.”

“You were truly surprised.”

The Secretary’s voice sounded far away.

“Didn’t I deactivate it?”

“Could the conflict arise because the control bracelet is ultimately also a C-class item?”

“That’s possible.”

Clutching his wits, he stepped back.

Looking at his sword, half of it was broken. There was nothing to say.

“Do you acknowledge defeat?”

The Chairman had long ended his conversation with the Secretary and was now watching him closely.

This cannot be the end.

This simply makes no sense.

Something outside the understanding, something undesirable.

It wasn’t a wall to break or a cliff to surmount.

It was just the rule taking its place.

“If you are struggling to answer, you don’t have to.”

The Chairman muttered something about adjusting control before touching his bracelet again. There was a click.

Countless magical symbols and patterns materialized over the equipment and then vanished. A gentle breeze blew.

“Purifying Sword Assist.”

Again, the Chairman touched the bracelet, making another click. Smoke rose from the Purifying Sword and wrapped around the Chairman once. All aspects of the Chairman’s swordplay transformed, transcending basic levels. It solidified into a unified plane.

A state beyond realms.

A brilliant, indescribable phenomenon emerged alongside the swordplay.

Although it resembled magic power, it wasn’t exactly that. It was so minor and insufficient that it only signified slightly surpassing the limit of a species.

Yet, full of praise for this possibility.

In the character for “sword.”

With the addition of the character for “energy.”

He named it.

Sword Energy.

It was the domain of a genius.

The Chairman advanced within a single step and swung the sword energy. Instinctive dodging fell apart against the skill, and the energy brushed past his body. The system’s non-lethal mode was disturbed, and the shock swept through his entire body.

[System Interference Detected]

[Fuel Maximum Value Adjusted]

[Reserve Fuel Deployed]

[Interference Defense Successful]

Everything momentarily flared up.

…

…

*

…

When Doyugeon regained his senses, he was lying on the ground.

“Feeling like after-dinner exercise isn’t bad, is it?”

“After-dinner exercise is supposedly bad for your health, especially for the stomach.”

“Means feeling good, you know.”

“If saying so improves health, I’d better sit properly now.”

“Good you pointed out, eh?”

“If that’s good advice, then everyone can be a faithful advisor.”

The footsteps and voices gradually moved away.

He wiped tears as he stood up and picked up the broken sword.

The sword was split in two but was still half complete.

The blade was sharp, the surface distinct.

It was still a sword.

Nothing had changed yet.

He pointed it forward.

“Let’s do it again!”

At his shout, the Chairman, who was returning to the mansion, turned back. The emotions in his eyes and expression were unclear through the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.

After watching for a while, the Chairman turned and started walking back toward the mansion.

“Surely, I do feel a bit full. It might be true that after-dinner exercise isn’t good.”

“That’s right, then my advice was correct.”

“Except for that.”

His raised sword began to tremble slightly. He couldn’t tell if it was his trembling body or the trembling sword. It didn’t matter, it was simply trembling.

He gulped for air, and with difficulty forced out a voice.

“Let’s do it again!”

As the Chairman was about to push open the door and enter the mansion, he looked back.

“Control your rage. Don’t harbor resentment. Nothing has changed before or after this moment. Don’t assign it undue significance. It’s just a small matter. If you want to do it again, you can do it anytime. But today isn’t the time, we’ll do it another day.”

The door closed.

He lowered his sword.

Really.

Nothing has changed.

He took a deep breath. Into one breath, he poured one emotion that could neither be abandoned nor treasured, cycling it instead.

That’s right, nothing has changed. It’s just a trivial moment right now.

If it isn’t trivial now, make it feel trivial later. In the process going forward, it will ultimately be just a single bump along the way.

This moment will become trivial.

By piling up defeats, and finally planting the flag of victory at the top.

He will trivialize it.

The sky was still bright.

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