Chapter: 248

Ivan had seen the martial arts of the late king. Even in those days, he was already in the twilight years, yet the late king had never refused to go to battle.

Therefore, the Royal Guards always had to fight on the front lines. It was an era where the elite forces of the nation could only be the Royal Protector Corps, and it was not a war where they could conserve their most elite troops.

Thus, the late king’s martial arts were not unfamiliar to Ivan. They were familiar as if it were just yesterday. He had even tried to replicate them.

But the great sword charging at him now was unfamiliar. The late king in his prime drew a trajectory completely different from the sword of the old man he remembered.

– Huuwong—

The great sword slices through the air, fiercely like a calligrapher drawing with a large brush. It swings as if to smear the very space itself, continuing with a single stroke.

Kaaang, sparks flew. It was a defensive move that was barely a block. Utilizing the usual rebound that comes from their clash, the old king carried the momentum and launched a counterattack.

– Kwaang! Kwak! Kaaang—!!

A relentless onslaught of swords followed without a moment to catch his breath. As he rebounded, there came the next strike, no matter how hard they clashed.

Each strike could become a fatal blow. If he were an ordinary warrior, this fierce swordplay would have been a special technique all on its own.

In that suspended time, the old king laughed as he swung his sword.

“Is that all you have? Is that your best?”

It wasn’t so much mocking or ridiculing; it was somehow close to a voice trying to coax a child. Ivan couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the old king’s laughter.

Ivan pulled out another axe with his free left hand. The old king, seeing this, laughed heartily and brought down his great sword.

– Kaaang—!!

He deflected the attack with the axe blade and aimed for the old king’s head with his other hand. To set up this strike, he had ‘not deflected’ all his previous attacks until now.

The old king’s swordsmanship was a method of aggression. A one-sided offense. It was fitting for a great warlord who had never engaged in a defensive battle.

Or perhaps, it resembled the swordsmanship of a tyrant who had entrusted all defensive matters to the Royal Guards and relentlessly berated the front lines.

Ivan decided to turn this against him. The late king’s offensive was based on utilizing the rebound during the moment of their clash. That delicacy was out of place for the old king’s large frame but was made possible by a lifetime of honed skills.

Thus, he exposed his weaknesses by rebounding. To set up the offense more easily. It was a calculated move prepared solely for this moment.

It leaned closer to an assassin’s trick rather than that of a valiant warrior or knight.

“Is this your best, Your Majesty?”

Ivan said, laughing impudently as he thrust down the axe. A playful smile emerged, one that didn’t match the lethal strike that could crush a head at any moment.

A sound of awe escaped. The old king controlled the great sword, which had lost its balance, with just one hand, and raised his other hand to swat the axe blade away.

– Kwaang!

A sound echoed, as sharp as it was, when he struck with his fist. When Ivan staggered from the intense recoil, the old king threw his body forward, pushing Ivan’s chest with his shoulder.

Surung, with a sharp sound, Ivan’s gaze fell. The great sword, having regained its balance, was thrusting straight at him.

This was a charge made with his body. It was a technique sometimes displayed by superhumans whose turning power surpassed that of cavalry. As Ivan, still off-balance, stared at the sword’s tip approaching him.

Raising his gaze, he saw the king was smiling. Surrender?

There was no way that was the case.

– Kwaang!

The great sword hammered down on the empty floor. Ivan, who had somehow landed on the blade, bounced off it.

No matter how great the sword, its form was far from a mere plank. The sight of him accurately landing on that thin blade caused the late king to break into an involuntary laugh.

“You’ve only learned strange tricks. I am almost embarrassed!”

The king’s fist came crashing down on Ivan, who was floating in the air. Although he blocked with the axe, he was pushed back. Ivan spun in midair and landed on the ground.

The late king charged at him. With both arms raised high and gripping the great sword tightly, he looked like a roaring grizzly bear. Coupled with the king’s towering stature, he appeared like a ferocious carnivore surging forward.

“As the ruler of a nation, one must always walk a path of righteousness!”

“You, Your Majesty, were not an unrighteous ruler either.”

“Oh, a king of my stature means every step I take is the definition of righteousness.”

As he deflected the attack, the king burst into laughter and pressed forward. Now, even when he deflected, he seamlessly transformed that energy into the next offensive.

It resembled Einar’s combat style. Both pushed forward with ferocity but shared a surprising degree of precision in distributing their attacks.

Ivan, like a flickering flame beneath a storm, defended against the onslaught and slowly retreated.

“Strive with all your might in everything you wish to achieve.”

Every offensive is a display of full force. He unleashes powerful strikes without holding back.

“Do not retreat even if it means clashing forcefully.”

As Ivan defended against the offensive, he immediately transitioned into the next wave. A flawless series of strikes without any energy left over. Unlike the obstinate appearance, it was intelligent and meticulously wielded power.

“Even after a missed opportunity, one must always be prepared for the next.”

If you deflect, the next attack awaits as it will follow through. The instant Ivan deflected the great sword hitting the ground, the old king took a step forward, mixing the direction of his strike.

There were no complex techniques. It was simply thrusting, swinging, and advancing. Like a tidal wave… no, much like the long winter of Krasilov. Like a storm laced with whipping snow that cuts through flesh.

Endlessly. Until the strength was spent.

That was the old king’s ruling philosophy. The political ideology of a tyrant, where life was a constant struggle. The path of a warlord who had devoted every moment to territorial expansion until the Demon King rose.

All of that was ‘seen’.

Ivan’s axe slowly gained momentum.

The next measure, the following one, the measure for when that fails was the strategy of an agent gradually fading away.

He did not discriminate between types of weapons. He had to handle everything proficiently. He also did not concern himself with the quality of the weapon. If it broke, he would seize it for use.

It was the combat style of infiltration agents who had no continuous supply or safe rear.

Fighting without hesitation, rolling on the ground without shame. Raids and ambushes were fundamental skills, while feints and distractions were basic strategies.

Life is war. The way of life is akin to warfare. Is not war the clash of strength against strength and the intricate interplay of intense strategies, tactics, plots, and scheming?

He lets go of that method. Not to deny life, but neither simply to imitate others—

Out of a desire to emulate.

This was akin to a child blindly idolizing their father. To a toddler, a parent is like a god, and thus they instinctively mimic their actions and demeanor.

– Kwaaang—!!

Ivan’s axe fiercely charged in and entangled with the old king’s great sword. An impossible noise erupted, one hard to believe came from a clash of weapons.

Amidst the sparks created by the friction of metal on metal, the shimmering light seemed to smirk.

“Right.”

At the moment of the clash, Ivan was pushed back. Using the recoil from the strike, he landed the next blow. Kwaang, kwang, kwang. With a mechanical rhythm similar to hammering on an anvil.

It continued endlessly. Each strike delivered with utmost effort and full strength. An offensive that did not look back.

“It is a time of chaos. What does righteousness mean in a chaotic times? It is a path of hegemony. Only the stronger can protect their people and subjects.”

Even amid the continued onslaught, the old king’s voice remained calm.

“Krasilov is cold and desolate. Its resources are meager, and the sea freezes every season. Therefore, expansion is necessary. As the father of the entire populace, I alone hold all responsibility for the starving.”

When Ivan deflected the old king’s sword again, the king’s voice grew louder.

“Thus, I must always be the one fighting at the forefront. The moment I cease, the nation withers. I must acquire a warmer sea and more fertile lands. If I can’t attain that, then the whole world should fear me and my kingdom. If my subjects starve while my worries grow, I must ensure that war can arise at any moment.”

That’s the righteousness of a king in this land.

The philosophy of a conqueror who tripled the territory of a small northern nation.

“So learn it well. The king of this land must always be a warrior. When many other rulers whisper the name of this land’s king, let it always be done with caution. ‘The feared one.’ The deeper the king’s notoriety spreads, the more prosperous the lives of the populace become.”

“…Yes, Your Majesty.”

Now, the clashing swords of the two men met in perfect timing like a reflection in a mirror.

Like a chorus of skilled musicians, they matched and clashed their sword and axe against each other’s openings.

This was the old king’s sentiment. Like Ivan’s ‘homeland’, the ‘hope’ of a warrior. The old king’s swordsmanship, infused with the sentiment of ‘responsibility’, went on to paint the canvas.

The great sword aimed for Ivan’s neck. As Ivan turned his axe to confront it, the trajectory of the great sword lowered slightly.

This was not an expected attack. No, it was an attack that was not predictable at all. This move, from the perspective of swordsmanship, was an extremely irrational action.

It was a self-defensive abandonment. Ivan, in confusion, struggled to deflect the axe. If this continued, the late king’s sword would fall to the ground, and his axe would strike the king’s neck.

Then, suddenly, the old king’s large hand grasped Ivan’s wrist. The retreating right hand was seized and came to rest against the old king’s neck.

“Mercy is shown by the strong. Are you stronger than me?”

“Your Majesty….”

“I have lost. Except for once in my life, I have never known defeat. Be proud of being my second conqueror.”

The first was the Seven Dragon Lords. Thus, the old king laughed, claiming he had never faced defeat up until the moment of his death.

“Do not show mercy to your enemy. It is already insufficient to show mercy to your people. Let your enemies speak of you in fear and trepidation. Act as if you are fierce and foolish.”

“Your Majesty, didn’t you say that you would not remember me?”

“I have never forgotten a single one of the warriors I have selected.”

The king, still smiling, lowered his sword.

“Fight as if you will never die, and stand as if you will never be defeated. That is my arrogance. Be brazen. ‘Little’ Ivan. Be ever arrogant. Should you falter or retreat to avoid sweat, know there is the blood of your people behind you.”

“…I do not desire to be king, Your Majesty.”

“Huh, has Elizaveta done nothing yet?”

“Yes?”

A look of inquiry appeared on the king’s face.

“Kyril had no talents outside of making children. Had you not maintained the throne until you were this old? If Alexander had taken the kingship, you wouldn’t be alive. Now isn’t Elizaveta the queen?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then, has Elizaveta not taken you under her wing? Quite strange….”

What image does he have of his granddaughter?

Even in this situation, Ivan found himself hesitating for a moment. He quickly regained his composure and replied.

“Well, we are… in a relationship.”

“Then what is the problem? If you bear children of royal blood, can’t you just teach them my will?”

“Yes, Your Majesty….”

“What a timid lad you are.”

Could it be related to timidity?

As Ivan swallowed his words, the late king reached out to place his hand on Ivan’s head.

“This one. You’ve had a rough upbringing.”

“….”

“Now let’s end this. There should be no dead in the land of the living, now that I have seen all that I wished to.”

“Your Majesty.”

The hand resting on his head felt heavy. The king chuckled heartily as he tousled Ivan’s hair.

“Connect my hypocrisy and arrogance, and stand in for my responsibility. Protect your people. Will you promise me that?”

“…Yes, Your Majesty. I promise. I will surely do so.”

“Finally, I can close my eyes in peace. Thank you.”

He lowered his hand and released the grip on Ivan’s right hand.

Raising his head to expose his neck, he quietly closed his eyes, smiling.

“When you fulfill your responsibilities and finally achieve your goals, seek your happiness. This is not a command from a king, but a plea from a father.”

“…Yes, I promise….”

“You have grown well. My son. You are no longer small.”

– I obtained the name ‘Great One Ivan’ through fighting at your age. How could I call you the same as I?

– ‘Little’ Ivan. So,

– Grow large. Follow and walk beside me, and one day move ahead. Carry on my will.

– Will you promise me that?

“…Yes, Father.”

I absolutely will.

*

Ivan closed his eyes. To enter eternal rest, deeply asleep. No one could disrupt his sweet dreams ever again.

Ivan opened his eyes. He took a moment to catch his breath and bowed deeply.

He raised the axe.

He stood up to fulfill his responsibilities.

Even now, he did not fully understand what the happiness he would eventually reach might be. Perhaps he would never know for a lifetime.

But, this was the late king’s final will.

Now, a line had been added to his responsibilities.

Even if the day comes when his soul is chipped away and finally becomes a deceased,

He will never forget today. (不忘)

EP41. Unforgotten (不忘)