Sword beginners.

Greenhorns who had only just taken their first steps in the sword. An insignificant level attained even by young noblemen and noblewomen who learned swordsmanship as a hobby, or students newly admitted to an academy.

Petel had seen countless sword beginners in his life.

Their swords were all pathetic, clumsy, and so fragile that the slightest touch could break them. Naturally. Hardness was something built up over the years; it could hardly belong to greenhorns who had only just begun learning the sword.

That was why, at this moment, Petel could not believe his eyes.

He had fought and defeated countless knights throughout his life. They had been 「sword walkers」, accomplished swordsmen who had dedicated their lives to the sword.

Yet he had never felt this way, even when crossing blades with all those skilled opponents.

For a fleeting instant, Petel saw a vision superimposed over the boy before him. For that instant, the boy became steel. Not a soft human made of flesh and blood, but steel that would not break no matter what it struck.

At the center of that steel was a heart.

The source of its hardness.

A heart of steel, if he had to put it into words.

'Have I lost my mind?'

The thought suddenly occurred to him.

Were the sinister rumors of a ghost living in this village true?

Was he looking at a pitiable boy? Or a ghost who had failed to depart this world after death and wandered the village?

Then the image of the boy before Petel's eyes wavered violently.

For an instant, the boy's face changed.

It became the face of a young woman, scarred and distorted by burns as though a demon had cursed her. Her eyes gleamed with a chill like moonlight.

Petel knew instinctively.

The sword would come again.

Tightening his grip, he muttered without realizing it.

"... Perhaps I'm fighting a ghost right now."

* * *

My heart beat.

The new, second heart inside my body beat with tremendous force.

When my original heart raced, it felt as though my chest might burst. This other heart throbbed so powerfully that it seemed ready to burst my entire body. Each surge sent a shudder through me.

I had known the moment it formed.

This was a 「mana heart」.

It was a glorious moment, the culmination of long training, but I could not simply rejoice. The guest before me had drawn his sword—and even swung it at me.

Now, think.

That man was a knight. He would have more combat experience than I did, and his mastery of the sword was greater than mine.

I had barely deflected his first attack, but that was practically a miracle of luck.

Without letting my guard down, I had kept watching my guest, predicted the movement of his muscles, then pictured the sword's trajectory and placed my own sword tip in its way beforehand. The vivid resurgence of the swordswoman Mary's memories had helped, too.

My guest was an experienced knight. This time, he would not hold his sword loosely. He would put more strength into it and swing more fiercely than before, so that no mere blade thrust by a sword beginner could knock it away.

In other words, I could not count on a second miracle.

Besides, how had it felt when our swords met?

'Like colliding with a carriage charging toward me.'

The instant the blades touched, it felt as though every bone in my body were splitting apart. I had nearly coughed up blood, and the strength had drained from my hands and legs.

If I had not held on to my senses, I would have dropped my sword and collapsed on the spot. A knight—a 「sword walker」—was that far beyond my present reach.

There was only one reason I could still stand after crossing blades with him.

I was a Caravan.

As Liam had said, another heart lay coiled in my chest, firmly settled there, hard as steel.

「Once again, my training has been proven sound, young descendant.」

I kept breathing as I glared at my guest.

Since my 「mana heart」 had formed, my breaths drew in more than oxygen. They brought another element that filled the world into my body. Mana. The source of mystery seeped into me, rousing my fading consciousness.

"Hoo, hah."

Beyond the sword my guest had leveled at me, I saw his wavering eyes. Human eyes always said a great deal. Surely that was no different for a superhuman. I read several emotions in his gaze.

Disconcertion, agitation, doubt about this situation, confusion.

The instant I recognized them, the swordswoman Mary's voice rang out.

["Just as an unfamiliar enemy is an unknown to me, I am an unknown to that enemy. There is an enormous difference between fighting with that knowledge and fighting without it."]

["I must remember. Just as I fear an enemy I do not know, my enemy will fear me because they do not know me either."]

My muscles drew taut.

Like a bowstring pulled all the way back.

["Fear is another blade a swordsman possesses. Though invisible, it can sometimes swell larger than anything else. Though it has no substance, it can sometimes pierce an enemy more sharply than anything else."]

["Hegel said that to survive, it was important to handle the blade in your hand well—but it was also important to know how to handle the invisible blade you did not hold."]

"Hoo."

The instant my muscles stretched to their limit, I thrust out my hand. The gleam of my blade turned from a point into a line. Needle shot toward my guest like lightning, and a 「path」 extended from his body. I knew instinctively. I could not pass through that 「path」, could not pierce it, could not overcome it.

Just as I had anticipated, the sword he swung this time was harsher and more thorough than before, with no opening to be seen. This was a true sword strike from a seasoned knight, a 「sword walker」. One that could break a mere sword beginner's blade in a single blow.

What, then, should I do?

There was only one way.

Create a 「path」 of my own.

"Hah—"

It was an absurd idea. A 「path」 belonged exclusively to swordsmen who had reached the level of sword walker. It was not an art a novice who had only just become a sword beginner could imitate.

That was why they were called superhuman.

I knew that myself.

That was why I did not want a perfect 「path」. Even if it was incomplete, I only wanted to trace one for this single instant. I believed a heart this astonishingly hard—a heart of steel—could make it possible.

Instinctively.

'Now.'

As I inhaled to my limit and exhaled, I wrung out every last bit of concentration.

The world slowed, and my senses sharpened to their utmost. I scanned every piece of information I could take in.

My guest was my sole subject.

Which muscles he was tensing, how he was breathing, what movement he intended to make, where he was looking. How much oxygen and Mana his breath drew in, how much strength he would commit to his next action, and how much Mana he would release.

Suspicion.

I had to doubt, probe, and question even the smallest detail. Let nothing pass unexamined, and scrutinize the reason for each and every thing.

Only then could I do it.

["As Hegel told me, I went out into the wider world."]

["With my hideous face, I thrust my blade at the world and lived as a wanderer. That life of mine was free—and lonely."]

Only then—

["Perhaps my slender, needle-like sword was a blade that reflected me. Mary, bristling with thorns, never satisfied until she pierced something, ready to snap the moment she struck against anything..."]

["A lonely needle, living ever more prickly, ever sharper, with no one at her side, pointed at everything in the world."]

Only then could I do it.

["Perhaps what I wanted to pierce was the world."]

["The world that had robbed me of my parents, my everyday life, and my future, all of it."]

Perfect concentration gave way to perfect immersion.

For an instant, the hand and arm with which I held Needle changed to resemble those of the swordswoman from the past.

["So if you ask whether I succeeded in piercing my world, I cannot answer."]

["There is only one answer I can give."]

A frail arm mottled with burns. Following it down, there was a callused hand, twisted at the wrist and gripping a slender needle. As the memory rose vividly within me, I saw a straight line, though I could not tell whether it was an illusion.

["I no longer fear fire or the world."]

A straight line that looked just like a path.

["Even if I cannot win, I can stand against them."]

["With my Needle in hand."]

The straight line was hazy, like a heat shimmer. I could see several faint lines, but as I concentrated harder, the outer lines vanished one by one. Until only a single line remained.

That final line was astonishingly clear.

["Ah, now that it is time to die, I remember what I said as a child."]

["Yes, isn't that what life is?"]

Needle moved of its own accord in my hand, as though being drawn into the line before me. The sword's trajectory twisted at its own whim. A blade a blacksmith would have hammered out of a lump of metal. A mass of steel that should have been nothing but an inanimate object moved as though it had a will—as though it were alive.

"...!"

My guest's eyes widened.

Agitation, disconcertion, a subtle unease.

Regardless, my Needle advanced. Like an arrow.

Along with it, the swordswoman Mary's voice rang out.

["Whether you swing or thrust, all that matters is that you can aim."]

Swift and exquisite, Needle sped toward the enemy to pierce him.

And then...

"—!"

With a thunderous roar, my body lifted into the air. A tingling sensation battered my entire body as though lightning had struck me. For a moment, it felt as if I were being torn to shreds.

"Uh..."

I could see nothing.

When I closed my eyes and opened them again, I was rolling on the ground, covered in dust. Needle, which I had gripped so hard my hand might shatter, lay broken into pieces. Agony washed over me, so intense I could barely breathe. My furiously beating heart was slowing.

THUD... THUD...

"This... is... truly, astonish..."

My guest's voice reached me in broken fragments.

That kind voice grew distant, and my vision gradually clouded over before turning pitch-black.

And there my consciousness cut off.

Just like that.

After I had completely lost consciousness, a voice rang out within me.

["The last thing I remember was a burning manor."]

The final memory of the former owner held within Needle.

* * *

The last thing I remember was a burning manor.

Amid the raging flames, Mother and Father became blackened ashes. I do not know how I survived that vicious fire. In that day's accident, I lost my family and the rosy life I might have led as a woman. All that remained was a little money, and a face and body mottled and distorted by burns, as though a demon had cursed me.

I hated my reflection in the mirror and had no will to live.

Well, if there was one fortunate thing, perhaps it was that the course of my life was not nearly as dark and dismal as I had feared in advance.

"Ah."

I met good people, discovered the sword, and spent my days in greater freedom and a wider world than the life originally intended for me. If someone asked whether mine had been a hateful life, I could confidently answer no.

"... I suppose it was fate, in the end."

With my eyes barely open, I looked around. A sea of fire surrounded me.

The fire that had stolen my childhood and future now intended to take my life entirely.

I should have listened to Nerik when he told me to avoid jobs that paid far too much. Perhaps I should have listened to Jeven when he asked me to quit mercenary work and live with him. He would have been the only man to love someone as repulsive as me.

"Yes, I suppose this is fate."

Well, as I said before, I have no regrets.

I had entered the enemy's den and become trapped in a hut. My Needle was broken, and flames covered everything around me. There was no way to escape alive. As my mind grew hazy, I felt strangely relieved instead.

Yes, a common end for a wandering mercenary.

Insignificant and lonely...

"Hegel."

Dragging my heavy body up, I slowly rose. Then I pointed my broken Needle at the flames that were steadily closing in. The broken blade was blunt, short, and thin.

This was foolish. No amount of thrusting with Needle could drive back the flames. I was an ordinary swordfighter, a worthless gypsy who knew nothing of wielding mysterious powers.

But, even so...

"I'll see you soon. If the Church of Sergen is right, we'll meet again in the embrace of flame."

Even so, I stand against it.

"When that time comes, I'll tell you stories of the freedom I experienced. It was all thanks to you."

I hold my sword loosely and twist my wrist.

The flames draw closer.

Rather than retreat, I advanced.

Like a moth to a flame.

"I'm no longer afraid of fire or the world."

That was the end of a swordswoman named Mary.

"Gah!"

I opened my eyes, sweating coldly.

The first thing I did was run both hands over every part of my body. The terrible pain I had felt until a moment ago was gone.

"Ah, a dream. The sword's memories..."

Mary's memory of being burned alive had been far too vivid.

My clothes were soaked through with cold sweat.

As I panted, I felt a change in my body.

How could I put it? My muscles felt softer and more supple. At the same time, my senses seemed sharper, like those of a feline beast. Like a mercenary who had spent nearly a lifetime living amid danger.

I could feel it.

The digestion of Mary's sword, 「Needle」, which had remained in my belly, was finally complete.

"Ah..."

I was sitting there in a daze for a moment, filled with that strange sense of fulfillment, when I heard a voice.

"You're awake now."

A deep, resonant voice came from some distance away. Turning my head, I saw my guest. He sat in front of a crackling campfire, watching me.

"There is something I very much want to discuss with you."

* * *

「Name: Needle」

「A long, slender sword used by the swordswoman Mary.」

「A sword specialized for thrusting.」

「Digestion complete.」