Early that morning, Najin headed to Ivan's office. Ivan had summoned him at the crack of dawn, but the office was empty. Even when he asked the gang member standing guard outside, all he got was an assurance that Ivan hadn't gone anywhere.

After a moment's hesitation, Najin returned to Ivan's office. Then he gave the bookcase in one corner a hard kick with the toe of his boot.

RUMBLE...

The bookcase slid aside, revealing a passage leading beneath the building. Sure enough, the entrance to the basement, normally kept blocked off, was open today.

'Looks like he wants me to come in.'

Najin scratched the back of his neck. He knew what lay down there: the stairs led to a wide, open space, the training ground Ivan used to hone his sword aura. It was also where Ivan had trained Najin. As a child, he had often been summoned to the basement for lessons.

"..."

Najin silently rubbed his shoulder. The long scar etched across it throbbed. There could only be one reason Ivan had called him here.

"Whew..."

With a long sigh, Najin stepped toward the stairs. After descending for some time, he emerged into a wide-open space. As expected, Ivan stood there.

"You're here."

"What's going on? Calling me all the way down to the basement."

"What do you think? There's only one reason I'd call you here."

Ivan tossed something toward him. Najin looked down at what landed at his feet with a clang. It was a sword—an iron sword with a fairly sharp edge.

"Pick it up. It's been a while. Let's see what you can do."

"... With an iron sword?"

"Of course. I'll be using one too."

Ivan rolled his wrist. The weapon in his hand wasn't his usual sword, but an ordinary iron sword like the one given to Najin. Still, its edge was more than sufficient to tear flesh and cleave bone. Unlike his usual lessons with a wooden sword, today Ivan held an iron one. Najin swallowed despite himself.

'When did I last spar with Ivan?'

It had been less a sparring match than a lesson, and less a lesson than a beating... but even that must have been several years ago. Once Najin had begun carrying out his duties properly, there had been no more need for those 'lessons.'

"Najin."

As those stray thoughts ran through Najin's mind, Ivan's voice rang through the basement.

"Focus."

His voice was cold and chilling.

Ivan closed his eye and took a long breath. The instant he exhaled, Najin's eyes widened. He snatched the sword off the floor and hastily backed away. His instincts were warning him to put distance between them immediately.

As Ivan finished that single breath and opened his eye to a narrow slit, the air in the basement suddenly grew heavy. It wasn't merely Najin's imagination. He felt a strange pressure, as though someone were pressing down hard on his shoulders.

SHING.

Ivan slowly lowered his sword. The blade moved languidly until it pointed at Najin. Facing that cold edge, Najin knew instinctively: unless he attacked prepared to die, he would leave today with another scar like the one across his shoulder.

2.

Najin did not welcome the prospect of sparring with Ivan. Honestly, he wanted to claim he wasn't feeling well and get out of the basement right then, even knowing that was impossible. To be frank, he was afraid. It was a learned fear, and one etched into his body in scars.

From childhood, Najin had learned from Ivan how to fight and how to survive in this city. They had often sparred in the process, and every time, Ivan had crushed him with brutal force. He had broken Najin's bones, beaten him unconscious, and poured water over him to force him awake when he passed out. Through that process, Ivan had forced the knowledge needed for survival into Najin's body.

'It does help, but...'

Now that he was older and knew enough to think for himself, Najin understood that teaching him hadn't been Ivan's only intention. Those lessons had also been a kind of threat, a warning: Don't put too much faith in your talent. I'm above you. Never cross the line. Don't try to climb over the fence I've built for you. I can crush you and break you whenever I want.

「Najin.」

「Don't dream big. It'll only make you miserable.」

When Najin was around fifteen, fascinated by the world above and dreaming of it, Ivan had left a long scar across his shoulder during a sparring match. It had been an unmistakable warning not to dream beyond his station. Najin had understood it and lived obediently, never crossing the line Ivan had drawn. Afterward, Ivan had largely stopped interfering with him and never suggested sparring again. He must have decided Najin had had enough of the whip.

'But...'

But why now, all of a sudden? Had he done something wrong? Najin reviewed his recent actions. He had faithfully performed his role as Ivan's hound and never crossed the line. His only departure from routine had been going to look at Excalibur, embedded in the square.

'Ivan gave me permission for that.'

Then what was the reason? He couldn't tell. But even without knowing why, he knew what he had to do now.

THUD.

Najin stamped his foot into the ground. He sharpened his senses, ready to react instantly no matter how his opponent came at him. Staring straight at him, Ivan gave the tip of his sword a flick.

"Aren't you coming?"

Rather than answer, Najin raised his sword at an angle. Instead of asking again, Ivan took a step forward. There was no weight behind that step. But when the distance between them had closed to roughly three paces—

THOOM.

Ivan put his weight into his step. Driving his foot deep into the ground, he swung his sword. The weight behind his stride carried into the blade, accelerating it in an instant.

CLAAANG!

Najin gritted his teeth as their swords collided. He had firmly braced his planted foot, yet the moment he parried Ivan's horizontal swing, it slid across the floor. His fingers trembled around the hilt. The weight felt like something enormous bearing down on him. As a child, that single blow would have sent his sword flying and left him rolling on the floor. Not now. Gritting his teeth, Najin twisted his blade.

CLANG, SKRRRAK!

It was a basic sword technique: angling the blade to let the force slide along it. But the moment he tilted his sword, Najin realized he had made the wrong choice. Ivan was a knight and a Sword Expert, a seasoned swordsman who had received proper instruction and perfected his own style through real combat. Ivan had taught Najin that very technique in the first place. Naturally, a simple deflection would never work on him.

Ivan turned his wrist. Sliding along Najin's angled blade, his sword traced a strange arc. The moment their hilts locked together with a clack, Ivan's sword wound around Najin's.

Even seeing it happen, Najin couldn't understand it at first. He only knew instinctively that he had to dodge, and ducked. The iron sword swept past above his head, and just as he tried to recover his stance...

THWACK.

"Guh!"

Ivan kicked Najin in the stomach. His body was strengthened by mana, his legs empowered. The impact felt like a club smashing into Najin's belly, sending him tumbling across the floor. But he had no time to lie there and rest. He sprang to his feet and parried Ivan's advancing blade. With each parry, his shoulder and sword hand screamed.

'Not even... a moment... to catch my breath...'

The kick to his stomach had disrupted his breathing. Frowning, Najin parried Ivan's sword. He had to watch not only the blade but Ivan's feet, too, so his eyes moved faster than usual. His eyes could follow Ivan's movements with ease, but his body couldn't keep up. He had to take blows he could see coming. Even when he could see how to counter a technique, his body failed him, leaving him to block and be driven back again and again. Every such moment filled him with frustration.

'Mana, mana, mana.'

That goddamn mana. Whenever Najin saw someone who could wield it, he felt both envy and bitterness. Ivan had never taught him how to use mana.

All Najin could do was imitate him. Eyes wide, he copied Ivan's breathing as he moved. In that instant, his body moved a little faster than usual. It felt as though something were pushing him from behind. For the first time, his body moved just as he intended. When their swords collided, Ivan's blade was forced back for the first time.

"..."

Ivan's eye narrowed.

Having retreated a step, Ivan drew his arm taut like a bowstring. Then came a bang. His sword shot forward like a released arrow and slammed into Najin's.

"Ugh...!"

The impact lifted Najin off the ground. Sliding backward, he jerked his head up. But contrary to his expectations, Ivan didn't immediately rush him. He merely stood where he was and raised his sword. It wasn't an attacking stance, but one meant to prepare something. One-eyed Ivan covered his empty eye socket with the raised blade. He looked just like the knights in heroic tales performing a sword salute.

And Najin saw it.

FSSS...

He saw the vivid blue energy rising quietly from Ivan's raised blade—the sword aura that proved he had attained the rank of Sword Expert. From the moment it was enveloped in aura, the weapon in Ivan's hand was no longer some crude iron sword found anywhere. It was a special sword that only one-eyed Ivan could wield, a sword for him alone.

For a moment, the beauty of that sword aura captivated Najin. Then he realized this was no time to admire it at leisure and hurriedly spoke.

"Wait, Ivan. Hold on."

Najin recoiled in alarm.

"You can't seriously be bringing out sword aura. Isn't this going too far, even for you?"

Something was wrong. They had sparred many times, but Ivan had never once brought out his sword aura. Naturally so: Najin couldn't possibly withstand it. Sword aura could only be opposed with sword aura. If someone tried to block it with an ordinary iron sword, both the sword and its wielder would be cut apart in a single stroke. Najin backed away in panic, but Ivan silently advanced toward him. One step, two...

Then—BANG.

Ivan kicked off the ground and charged at Najin. Wreathed in vivid blue sword aura, his iron sword swept toward Najin, trailing light.

"... Ugh!"

Najin hastily raised his sword. But an ordinary iron sword couldn't possibly block sword aura. The instant Ivan's aura-clad blade struck his own, Najin saw it clearly.

SKRAK.

His sword was being cut through. Unable to withstand the opposing force of the sword aura, the blade buckled. The weapon shuddered violently in his hand. Ivan's sword pressed forward, slicing through the iron. To Najin's eyes, it all unfolded slowly.

SKRRRAK...

The blade advancing as it cut through his sword. The vivid blue flash of sword aura. Najin's eyes grew bloodshot.

'I'm going to die.'

Najin sensed death approaching. The instant he did, every nerve in his body sharpened. Amid the strange sensation of a single second being split into tiny fragments, his body moved. An unknown force pushed him forward. And now, that force was no longer pushing only his body.

A flash. Najin's sword, already cut halfway through, flickered with light.

For no more than an instant, light dwelled in Najin's sword. Compared with Ivan's mighty sword aura, it was insignificant—raw energy not yet brought under control... and yet it was unmistakably a fragment of sword aura. A light the boy should not possess. A radiance that should not lie buried in an underground city like this.

The moment Ivan saw the radiance dwelling in Najin's blade, his eye widened. His mouth twitched violently. Then sword aura collided with sword aura.

CLAAANG!

With a harsh ringing sound, Najin's sword pushed Ivan's back. But before it could drive the blade away completely, Najin's sword broke with a shattering clang. It wasn't the only one. Ivan's sword shattered as well. Both swords had broken. Neither had been made to withstand sword aura in the first place. One had begun to fail the moment it produced aura, the other the moment it received it; at last, both iron swords had reached their end.

CLATTER.

The broken blades fell to the ground. A moment later, Najin's legs gave out, and he sank to the floor.

"Hah, huh, haaah...!"

Najin released the breath he had been holding in ragged gasps. His heart pounded wildly. It felt as though something were squeezing it, making his breathing harsher still.

PATTER.

Blood dripped from his nose onto the ground. With a headache and weakness washing over him, Najin lifted his head. Ivan stood there, looking down at him.

"..."

Ivan silently looked at Najin, then at the sword in his own hand. A broken sword—the result of sword aura clashing with sword aura. At last, he let out a hollow laugh.

"You really are something else."

Ivan had seen the light. Faced with the boy's radiance, he dragged a hand down his face. The moment he beheld it, he had understood. He could no longer help but understand.

'This is going to drive me insane.'

That was a kind of light someone like him had no right to bury.