Argo, a knight of Atanga.

His face brightened at the sight of someone he was glad to see in the heart of the imperial capital. The young man who went by the alias Ivan. They had promised to meet again once the young man became a knight, but chance encounters could hardly be helped.

"Good to see you, nameless young man."

"It's good to see you too, Sir Argo."

Argo knew Najin's alias, but since he had not heard it from Najin himself, he did not call him Ivan. He simply smiled amiably and addressed him as a nameless young man.

"I've heard the rumors. You've been making quite a splash, haven't you? I hear you even crossed swords with Sir Griffin."

"Things just happened to turn out that way."

"Just happened to, eh? That does sound like you."

Argo laughed heartily.

"What brings you to the imperial capital?"

"A friend of mine had business here, so I came along as an escort and to do some sightseeing."

"Sightseeing? Then why a smithy like this? Camelot has much more to offer."

"Well..."

Najin smiled wryly.

"I followed the sound of hammering metal, and before I knew it, I was standing outside this smithy."

"True, the owner's hammer does have quite a lively ring to it."

Argo nodded emphatically, then beckoned to the girl sitting outside the smithy. She rose and stood straight at his side.

"This is my squire, Planshu."

Argo ruffled her hair as he spoke.

"I stopped by to have a sword made for her. Now that she's earned the right to bear Atanga's crest, I thought I ought to give her a sword."

Najin gave a brief murmur of admiration as he looked at Planshu. Two crossed swords and a shield were engraved on the girl's pauldron. It was a handsome crest, and one Ivan had treasured so dearly.

She stared.

All the while, Najin felt an intense gaze on him. Turning his head slightly, he found Planshu's eyes boring into him. As he wondered why, Argo smiled wryly.

"Haha. My squire takes quite an interest in you. Her eyes go wide every time she hears a rumor about you."

"... Does she?"

"Indeed. Chasing the Demon Knight that day was her first assignment. Meeting you on that assignment must have left quite an impression."

Planshu was still staring fixedly at Najin. Argo narrowed his eyes and tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

"That's rude, Planshu."

"... I'm sorry."

"Not to me. To him."

"I'm sorry."

As Planshu bowed to Najin, Argo stroked his chin. His squire's keen interest in Najin, and this chance encounter... After a moment's thought, he spoke.

"If you don't mind, could you take a look at her swordsmanship?"

2.

Damanos Smithy.

The smithy had an exclusive contract with the Atanga Knight Order, and naturally, a suitable space for testing swords had been set aside behind it. Recognizing Argo, the smith readily opened the way to the rear.

And so they arrived at the sparring ground.

Argo's squire, Planshu, looked across the ground as she warmed up. A young man stood there loosening his shoulders. She had first encountered him during the subjugation of Demon Knight Berheigen, and he had never left her thoughts since that day.

At a glance, he seemed to be about her age.

Yet she knew he had defeated Berheigen alone. Berheigen was estimated to be a Sword Seeker-level combatant. How on earth had he done it? Planshu simply could not understand.

["She's a genius."]

["A once-in-a-generation genius who will follow in Sword Saint Karon's footsteps—perhaps even break his records."]

["At only seventeen, she's already close to becoming a Sword Expert. She'll reach that realm before long."]

These were the things she had always heard.

The world called her a genius, and by any objective standard, Planshu was one. No one her age could match her, and she possessed an innate talent for the sword.

Planshu knew she was a genius. She also felt compelled to be better than everyone else her age.

To her, Najin was an anomaly. He appeared to be about her age, yet had reached a realm overwhelmingly higher than her own. She could not stop thinking about him.

"I am Planshu, squire to Argo, knight of Atanga."

She pointed her sword at Najin.

"Please grant me a lesson."

The conditions of the spar were simple.

A contest of pure swordsmanship, with neither mana nor sword aura—only their blades clashing. Under those rules, Planshu was confident. Confident she would not lose.

Pure swordsmanship. The realm of technique.

That was her specialty. She had been swinging a sword since she could walk, twelve years ago now. Rather than resting on her talent, she had practiced harder than anyone.

'I'm not underestimating you.'

But Planshu was certain she would not fall behind in pure swordsmanship. She had observed the swords of countless powerful fighters and learned many different styles. Under these same rules, she had even fought a Sword Seeker to a draw.

TAP.

Brimming with confidence, certain that she would at least not lose, Planshu stepped forward. She kicked hard off the ground, closing the distance and swinging her sword in a clean arc.

And Najin...

"..."

He watched the path of her blade with an expressionless face, then swung his sword lightly.

TAP. CLANG.

Planshu frowned at how easily her sword had been knocked aside, but calmly continued her attacks.

Her sword swept through a smooth arc, yet the result was much the same.

TAP. CLANG...

The same sequence repeated several more times. Throughout it all, Najin never even made a proper swing. He merely swept his sword lightly to one side or flicked it with a snap of his wrist.

CLANG!

When even a high-speed thrust launched with the spring of her whole body was knocked aside, Planshu's eyes wavered. She knew her opponent was stronger, but wasn't this strange?

'How?'

Something felt unnervingly wrong. Then Planshu looked into Najin's eyes and found her answer. As she swung, his eyes followed the tip of her sword precisely.

He was reading its path and intercepting her strikes before their force reached its peak. When she realized what the man before her was doing, a chill ran down her spine.

'Somewhere...'

She had experienced something like this before.

It was not hard to remember when. Roughly two years ago, while Planshu was making a name for herself as a once-in-a-generation genius, a swordsman had suddenly come to see her.

A swordsman who had barged into the Atanga Knight Order alone.

He had caught the swords of the bristling knights with his bare hands and casually swept them aside, then approached her and asked for a bout. He, too, had wielded his sword just like the young man before her now.

A measured speed, neither fast nor slow.

A sword moving at Planshu's pace.

And yet her strikes were deflected with effortless ease.

Faced with exactly the same situation, Planshu ground her teeth. The memory of that day had returned.

["This is disappointing."]

That day, the swordsman had looked at her with cold eyes and said those words.

["Ordinary. No different from the rest."]

["You're merely faster than other people."]

Only later did she learn that the swordsman who had murmured those words in a disappointed voice and left was Sword Saint Karon. That incident had dealt a deep wound to her pride. And now the same thing was happening again.

At the hands of a swordsman around her own age.

Planshu could not accept it. She boldly pressed in on Najin. Her blade accelerated, its trajectory changing. This was far beyond the intensity one would expect from a girl merely approaching the Sword Expert realm.

Najin narrowed his eyes.

THUD.

For the first time, he stepped forward and took a stance.

* * *

"What's holding your attention so intently?"

"I'm watching a spar."

The owner of Damanos Smithy, master artisan Damanos, perched on the smithy's wall with a cigarette between his lips. It hissed as he lit it and drew a deep breath.

Then he exhaled a long stream of smoke and let his gaze drift downward. From the place Argo was watching came the loud clash of swords.

"One of them is Planshu... Who's the other?"

"A young man making a name for himself in the adventurers' city. He played the leading role in the Demon Knight's subjugation."

"Ah, that fellow called Ivan, or something?"

Damanos narrowed his eyes as he watched the spar.

"Well now."

He let out a long sigh of amazement.

"Unless my eyes deceive me, Planshu is being pushed back. Without mana or sword aura, at that?"

"That's how it looks to me as well."

"Isn't she a match for even the Order of the Sword's Mid-Ranking Priests in swordsmanship alone?"

"Indeed. She has exceptional talent, and works exceptionally hard."

No one denied that Planshu was a genius. People often spoke of her talent as comparable to the Sword Saint's.

But...

Damanos even put out his cigarette to focus on the bout between Planshu and Najin.

"Then what on earth is that young man?"

"I've been wondering the same thing."

No matter how ingenious a path Planshu's blade traced, it could not reach Najin. He cut off its trajectory, blocked it, or knocked it aside before it could complete its arc. Once or twice could have been dismissed as chance...

CLANG!

But when it happened more than a dozen times, it became difficult to call it coincidence. To do such a thing, he would need to understand exactly which styles Planshu had learned and employed. That was nearly impossible.

Planshu had learned close to several dozen styles of swordsmanship.

Imperial swordsmanship, Atanga's swordsmanship, the Order of the Sword's swordsmanship, the Guardian Sword of the imperial hero Aigar... It was impossible to understand all those styles. Aigar's Guardian Sword, in particular, was permitted to be passed down only to Planshu.

'Then...'

Was he imitating the Sword Saint?

Damanos, who had never crossed blades with the Sword Saint, could not know. But Argo did. This was something the Sword Saint often did.

"Tsk."

Damanos clicked his tongue as he watched.

"This will be quite a shock for Planshu."

"She needs it."

"Needs it?"

"A spur to action. The frustration of defeat. Isn't that excellent nourishment? It's necessary if she's to keep moving forward."

Argo smiled with satisfaction.

This would be a good opportunity for his squire, who was so keenly conscious of the young man. Above all, given how easily her surroundings could encourage conceit, this bout would be a welcome wake-up call for Planshu.

It happened then.

Planshu took a stance. The instant Argo saw it, he frowned. It was the stance for Atanga's swordsmanship. Her desire to win had driven her to use even a technique she should not.

'I'll have to have a word with her.'

Just as Argo was about to step forward and stop the bout, Najin moved first. Before Planshu could unleash Atanga's swordsmanship, his blade traced a clean arc and slammed into hers.

A straight, unyielding trajectory.

A sword that shattered the opponent's stance.

It was a straightforward technique that nonetheless required precise control of force, and Najin executed it superbly. The instant their blades collided, Planshu's stance crumbled...

CLAAANG!

"Ugh...!"

At last, Planshu's arms were flung upward, and she lost her grip on her longsword. The blade clattered to the ground.

"..."

Biting her lip hard, Planshu spoke.

"I lost."

As she acknowledged her defeat, Argo stood frozen, eyes wide. A moment later, he burst out laughing.

'To think I'd see that again.'

The swordsmanship Najin had just displayed.

A sword that shattered an opponent's stance and crushed them. Those distinctive movements and footwork lived in Argo's memory as well. It was a technique that had defeated him time and again when he was an apprentice knight.

Najin had used it out of habit, but there was unmistakably a trace of Ivan in it.

Seeing that trace, Argo smiled warmly. He had never imagined he would see his old friend's technique again.

3.

"Well done. This is a gift for you."

Argo handed Najin a wooden box. Opening it, he found a pair of leather gauntlets. Judging by the well-tanned leather, they were of high quality.

"Gauntlets are every bit as important to a knight as a sword and armor. Do you know why?"

When Najin shook his head, Argo grinned and mimed throwing down his glove.

"It's tradition to throw down a glove before a duel, isn't it? The louder it lands, the more it sets the mood."

Najin chuckled.

"Thank you. I'll gladly accept them."

"Good. And thank you for crossing swords with her. It was a great help."

Planshu bowed to Najin. Something in her gaze had changed since before their bout. Najin smiled at her.

"That was impressive. Your sword was fierce. I look forward to crossing sword aura with you next time."

Planshu's eyes widened at his words. Looking a little surprised, she moved her lips, then spoke in a barely audible voice.

"Th-thank you..."

As they saw him off and Najin was about to leave, he rubbed the back of his neck. For some reason, he had felt someone watching him for a while now.

'A subtle gaze.'

He could feel that inexplicable gaze, yet could not tell where it came from. Turning his head and searching his surroundings revealed nothing. After looking around for some time, his eyes came to rest on one spot.

A tower standing in the distance.

One of the five towers surrounding the imperial palace.

He had the feeling that the gaze had come from there. After watching the tower for a while, Najin shook his head. He must have imagined it. He had certainly been overly sensitive lately...

* * *

An old man stroked his beard.

His hair had turned snow-white through the trials of the years. His skin was deeply wrinkled. Yet even the passage of time had failed to bend his back or waist. Slowly, he rose from his chair.

For a while, the old man gazed toward a certain place.

For he had heard the ringing of swords from there.

The ringing born of blade clashing against blade. No matter how far away it was, he could sense that ringing. The sword's cry was the only sound that made his soul tremble.

"Berge."

"You called, sir?"

"Gray hair. Adventurer's clothing. Sunset-colored eyes. Investigate the young man who visited this city today."

"Yes, sir."

The First Pillar of the Empire.

The Empire's foremost warrior.

The pinnacle of humanity, bearer of seven stars.

"Interesting."

Gerd, the sword of the Empire, smiled. Humming the pleasing cry of the sword that had rung in his ears moments before, he watched the young swordsman who had come to the Empire for some time.