「The principle behind the wings’ ‘acceleration’ lies in connection.」

As my training continued, Liam offered meaningful advice, unlike his usual self. Not vague, lofty remarks that were difficult to understand, but advice that actually helped.

「Put simply, you connect your flesh to the ‘path’ extending from your body, then have it pull you along in an instant.」

“Pull me along?”

「Once you reach the rank of sword runner, the reach of the path you could extend as a sword walker increases enormously. You can stretch it incomparably farther than before.」

The path.

The power that helped me sense danger or move at superhuman speeds. Upon reaching the rank of 「sword runner」, that power helped a swordsman produce actual ‘phenomena.’

「If you extend a path toward your enemy, then think to accelerate, that outstretched path pulls you forward. Thus, you can charge in a manner approaching teleportation.」

“It pulls me...”

「The principle behind accelerating thought is the same. The ‘path’ spread throughout your body lets you see the world slowly through superhuman eyes. Your wings draw you forward so that you can predict a more distant future, and pull you toward a broader view of the world. That is the secret hidden in the wings’ acceleration.」

Listening to Liam, I understood why 「sword runners」 were called ghosts of the battlefield. A sword runner who could spread their ‘path’ across a battlefield would be able to grasp the course of the fighting and the condition of multiple enemies at once through superhuman senses. After all, even a 「sword walker」 could take in all the information that touched their ‘path.’ Sword runners simply received more information, faster, from a wider area.

But sword runners did not stop there.

Based on that information, a sword runner instinctively knew where they needed to be, and by pulling on the ‘path’ stretched to that place, could actually be there. They were called ‘ghosts of the battlefield’ not simply because they moved quickly, but because they were invariably present wherever they were needed. To their enemies, it must have been a nightmare.

「You would do well to understand this clearly if you wish to use the Gale you have digested properly.」

“Why is that?”

「At present, you use the wandering swordsman’s arcane power only to disrupt intertwined flows and break the enemy’s formation. But the sword’s original owner did not do that. Through his ‘path,’ he clearly understood the events unfolding on the battlefield. Then he interfered with and disrupted those organically connected ‘paths’ to render his enemies powerless. Even without physically being there, he achieved the same effect as if he were. By becoming a breath of wind.」

Liam looked at me.

「Young descendant, you may believe you fully understand the swords you have digested, but in my eyes, your digestion of them is still terribly crude. Broaden your perspective. And, as I have always told you, never cease to question. Was that the best you could do? Could it have been better?」

“I understand.”

Unlike his usual self, Liam was actively offering advice. Seeing Master behave this way felt distinctly strange. It also made me uneasy.

‘What on earth is about to happen?’

Even when danger was right before me, Liam had always offered abstract advice, telling me to work out the specifics myself. Now, however, his teachings were detailed and patient. Why? Was the approaching danger beyond anything I had experienced before? Or had he suddenly decided to become a kindly master? No matter how I thought about it, the latter seemed unlikely. That made it difficult to shake my unease.

“Whew.”

Still, all I could do right now was swing my sword.

‘Connect them from the heart. Make the wings grow while retaining the hardness of the Mana, like the path extending through my body. Not as though wings are sprouting from my back, but as though wings growing from my heart are piercing my shoulder blades and bursting out.’

With that image in mind, I worked hard to circulate my Mana.

Every time I did, twenty-four hours felt insufficient.

A day flowed by in no time, daylight passed in an instant, and night came far too soon. I wished I had a body that did not need sleep. Why had the human body been created to grow tired with activity, to become drowsy and inevitably waste some eight hours? Why had it been created to lack strength unless it ate? Right now, even the time lost to eating and sleeping felt like a waste. Such an awful waste.

“You have improved considerably, young lord.”

Something Tom had said the other day had only made me feel that way more strongly.

“Have I?”

“Yes. You have truly gotten the feel for it.”

“Then—”

“At this rate, I believe you could become a sword runner in as little as half a year.”

Half a year.

“Half a year... you say?”

“Yes. Why that expression? Wouldn’t progressing from sword walker to sword runner in half a year be a remarkable achievement? Why do you look disappointed—”

Six months.

About a hundred and eighty days.

Tom, the caretaker, had said it would take me ‘half a year’ to become a sword runner. After hearing that from him, I asked Master as well. Would it really take me half a year?

「It will take longer.」

Liam’s answer was brief and definite.

‘... Of course it will.’

I accepted it without needing to hear the reason.

Becoming a 「sword runner」 in an instant would have been stranger in the first place. Seolyun had trained with the sword far longer than I had, and had unfurled her wings through enlightenment. Even a heaven-born prodigy had needed that much; I could hardly become a 「sword runner」 overnight. This was already fast.

All thanks to my special ability to eat swords.

Without Caravan blood, I would have floundered for a long time. When the swordmaster Carlos turned our estate into a land of death, I was left alone. I bought a swordsmanship manual and devoted myself to training for a year. Yet I achieved nothing. Far from becoming a credible avenger, I had not even become a 「sword beginner」. Without Liam’s help, I might still have been wasting my efforts. So rather than lament the half year remaining, I ought to have been satisfied. But, but I simply could not be.

“Whew.”

I wanted to grow stronger even a little sooner.

I wanted more. I wanted to become noticeably stronger. I wanted a sharper sword, even a moment sooner. I wanted to become someone formidable enough to reach that damned bastard. I wanted to gouge out Carlos’s eyes, which still regarded me as insignificant, force him to his knees, and carve off his arms and legs. Then I wanted to slaughter the Iron Prince, who must have given him his orders. I wanted to erase from the world those who had so casually stolen everything precious to me, yet still lived and breathed alongside me. I wanted to pass judgment myself in place of the seven chief gods and nine goddesses, who meted out no punishment.

The things I could not accept.

The injustices. I wanted to set this broken world right.

Even a moment sooner.

「Does even half a year feel too long to you?」

“Yes.”

「I suppose it would. You have always been that way.」

Liam smiled.

「Do not worry too much. A Caravan grows amid a storm of trials. Like steel that hardens with every hammer blow in the flames, we grow stronger with every trial we overcome.」

Once again, Liam was gazing into the distance.

「A trial is coming. A very great trial.」

* * *

Liam’s concrete advice proved enormously helpful. His advice about the 「path」, in particular, was decisive. The principle behind the accelerating power of 「sword runners’」 wings. His explanation that an extended path pulled its owner along helped me form a particular image.

The 「wings」 I would create began at my mana heart. That meant they would be connected to me far more closely than wings created by the usual method. Then couldn’t I use not only my wings, but my 「path」 in a similar way? The moment the thought occurred to me, I put it into practice.

From that moment on, my heart began connecting more strongly to my 「path」. Not merely a visual connection, but as though they were bound together with actual knots. The instant I felt that connection, the 「paths」 extending like veins throughout my body also began connecting closely to one another. Not imaginary veins, but like real blood vessels running through my body. My senses came alive. The superhuman senses possessed by 「sword walkers」 expanded greatly. I could faintly perceive Seolyun’s sword.

At the same time, I began to anticipate the movements produced by Seolyun’s wings. Rather than moving in response to trajectories or the motion of her muscles, I read them beforehand through my 「path」. The moment I tried to imitate her movements, I even had the illusion that my 「path」 was pulling my body along.

Once in every ten swings, I felt as though the sword were pulling me. If I followed that pull, I could move at a speed that astonished even me. Like 「sword runners」 accelerating. Like unfurling wings and taking flight.

“That’s it!”

“What?”

“That’s it. The feeling that the sword is pulling you, rather than you running on your own feet. Once you fully grasp that sensation and learn to control it, you can unfurl your wings. A little, just a little farther.”

My heart pounded.

A little.

Had the words ‘a little’ always been this thrilling?

Every moment spent swinging my sword was a joy. That feeling of growing and changing with each passing moment was truly welcome. Amid that sheer delight, Tom spoke.

“You have taken a step forward. That is it. Think of all 「paths」 as connected. That is why a 「sword walker’s」 power was named a path in the first place. Shouldn’t the owner of a path be free to travel wherever it extends?”

“Ah...”

“A sword walker extends a path, and a sword runner walks it. To be able to exist anywhere along the path you have extended simply by wishing to be there. That is the secret of the power held within 「wings」.”

Tom clapped his hands and smiled.

Then, as he always did, he briefly launched into an old tale.

“That is why sword runners are called ghosts of the battlefield. Think of the ghosts in horror stories. They appear and disappear everywhere, as though you could never escape them.”

“Yes.”

“Do you happen to know how the expression ‘ghosts of the battlefield’ first came about, young lord? This story goes back quite a long way... Ah, am I rambling too much? If you need time to train, I shall keep it short. Hoho. This old man is terribly fond of such stories. Hardly acting my age, am I?”

“Not at all. I’m curious.”

Having pushed myself to my limits in training, I needed a moment to catch my breath anyway. I could easily listen to one of Tom’s old stories during a break like this. Besides, who knew what brilliant lesson even a short tale might hold? Humans were creatures that learned from history, after all.

“Ahem, ahem. Then let me tell you.”

Tom’s lips twitched, unable to hide his delight, as though he were secretly thrilled. That boyish side was part of his charm. He cleared his throat like a storyteller and began.

“Long ago, there was an age when even the name sword runner did not exist. An age when the very concept of the sword was unfamiliar. Back then, there were only blades, spears, and shields. Blood and arrows, flames and steel. Weapons made of iron were not distinguished from one another, and edged weapons were regarded merely as tools for killing living things efficiently. The Age of War. There were no mana hearts, paths, or wings then. Only blood and flesh, sharp edges and screams.”

Tom’s voice was gentle.

“In that age of despair, a stranger came to a battlefield. A traveler carrying an old blade. In the midst of a battlefield splashed with fire and blood, the traveler gave a long, languid yawn. No matter how you looked at him, he was far too relaxed to be a soldier caught in a war. People thought the long war had driven him mad. Until he began to wield his blade, that is.”

“...”

“Once he began, the man was everywhere on the battlefield. Like a ghost. Only then did people truly begin to see him. A dazzling banner, a bored idler, a sword that appeared and vanished without warning. That alone should give you some idea.”

Tom grinned.

“Rhapsody. The freest of the five Great Families. Descendants of the Lazy Idler. The term 「sword runner」 was born from their ancestor. Ironic, isn’t it? That the laziest sword should possess the fastest sword on the entire continent.”

“...”

“That legend endures to this day. According to countless bards, when Rhapsody’s sword reaches its utmost limit, it becomes the fastest sword on the continent, one no one can see. A sword that can exist everywhere. Hugo Rhapsody, the current family head, is said to be a veritable storm. Less a living being than a natural disaster...”

* * *

The steel city, 「Perma」.

The excitement in the 「Arena」, the circular stadium at Perma’s center, was slowly dying away. The day’s main event had long since ended, and even the matches between insignificant fighters had finished some time ago. The spectators had all gone to bed to prepare for tomorrow’s work. The only people roaming the streets were drunks so thoroughly intoxicated that their heads lay planted on the ground, or thieves prowling around to empty their pockets.

Even the lights had gone out, leaving only cold blue moonlight to illuminate the dark steel city. Amid the thick darkness, a man walked the streets of steel. His face was masked, and his shabby figure was draped in old rags. The only striking thing about the beggar-like man was the thin sword jutting out to a point. It resembled the swords noblewomen carried to take their own lives if they were raped. Something kept for suicide, or to resist when driven into a final corner. In other words, it hardly looked like a weapon intended to hurt anyone.

“Hey, pal. This is our turf.”

“...”

“I said it’s our turf. Find somewhere else if you want a place for the night. Fuck, is it because the Endless Duel just ended? Every worthless little shit is crawling out of the woodwork.”

As the shabby, harmless-looking man ventured deeper into the street, the beggars swarming there began asserting their territory. They did not welcome his arrival. They were already irritated by the scarcity of drunks to rob and scraps to scavenge, and now another beggar had turned up.

“Get lost.”

Trusting in their numbers, the beggars threatened him. If he kept pushing, they intended to attack and bury him. The steel city’s guards did not patrol vigorously at night. They considered anyone wandering the back alleys at such a late hour a fool.

As the beggars continued prodding him, the man spoke.

“I am looking for the circular stadium.”

“What?”

“Was it called the Arena? Where is that stadium? I have a matter for which I must hold its highest authority accountable.”

The beggars let out incredulous laughs.

They thought the man was mad. Looking for the Arena’s highest authority? A fucking beggar? He had even said he intended to hold them accountable. They figured he was either a lunatic suffering from mental illness or a swaggering idiot. The latter seemed far more likely. His speech carried the strong, distinctive accent of the six free cities, and beggars from the free cities were invariably prone to boasting.

“You son of a bitch—”

The beggar at the front raised his hand.

He meant to strike the man’s head and beat him senseless. Watching him, the other beggars snickered or idly tossed steel copper coins in their hands.

TING!

A steel copper coin rose into the air from a beggar’s hand.

And then...

“—”

In the brief instant that the steel copper coin spun through the air, a light flashed once.

“—!”

Immediately afterward, the bodies of the beggars surrounding the man collapsed en masse. Like sandcastles swept away by a wave. The organs inside them, their flesh and bones and blood, separated like grains of sand and spilled onto the ground. It happened so quietly, so naturally. Like soft sand slipping between the fingers of a cupped hand.

TING!

The sound rang out again as the steel copper coin tossed into the air fell to the ground.

By the time the coin struck the ground, only one beggar on the street remained alive. Still unable to understand what had happened, the survivor stared blankly ahead. The man stood amid the collapsed beggars. The stunned beggar blinked once. When he opened his eyes again, the man was right before his nose. Close enough for their faces to touch. He had no way of knowing when or how the man had come so near. As the beggar stammered, “Uh, uh,” the man spoke again.

“I am looking for the circular stadium.”

His voice sounded less human than the growl of a wild beast. To the beggar, he no longer looked like a man. No, he did not even look like a living creature.

There stood a sword.

“My son came to harm there. So tell me where it is. Before I send every worthless soul in this paltry steel city back into the embrace of God.”

Seven swords.