"Facing someone you can’t defeat?"

Ilma sneered.

"Turn around and run, you idiot. Why even ask such an obvious question?"

"And if running isn’t an option?"

"Then close your eyes and beg for your life."

"And if even that doesn’t work…?"

"Then just die. If it’s come to that, then dying is the only logical conclusion."

Ilma flicked my forehead casually.

"If you’ve already decided you can’t win, why even bother clashing swords? If you value your life, just run. If you get caught, you die. If you’re lucky enough to escape, good for you. What’s there to debate?"

"...After facing the Heavenly Demon, I realized. You can’t run, and you can’t charge forward."

"If you’re standing before the Sect Leader, that’s only natural."

"Even so, if I must raise my sword, what should I do?"

"...Wait, are you seriously asking me how to face the Sect Leader?"

Ilma tilted her head, her sharp growl inches away from me.

"The Heavenly Demon is the Heavenly Demon. There’s no one in this world who can defeat the Sect Leader. Even if you point your sword at them, to them, it’s no more than a rat wielding a toothpick."

"......"

"Your hypothetical is absurd, so I can only dismiss it as nonsense. You? Against the Heavenly Demon? Even a passing dog would laugh. I could kill you without lifting a finger. And yet, the Sect Leader stands above even that. That’s the difference."

"...But someday—"

"Someday, my foot."

Ilma cut me off sharply, refusing to entertain my delusions. Still, it seemed she had been mulling over my question, as she brought it up a few days later.

"That question you asked before."

"Yes?"

"About raising your sword against someone you can’t defeat. Live long enough, and you’ll face such situations once or twice, you fool. Even after reconsidering, my answer remains the same. Run. That’s the right move. Preserve your life for the next opportunity."

"......"

"But, assuming it’s not the Sect Leader and you must raise your sword..."

I could feel Ilma’s smile beneath her mask.

"If it were me, I’d drag it out."

"Pardon?"

"If someone stronger than me is toying with me, it’d piss me off. At the very least, I’d make sure to leave a bite mark. That’s the kind of person I am. What about you?"

"...I—"

I pondered deeply.

She was right.

Dying scared me. But if I were in a situation where death was unavoidable...

I’d want to leave something behind.

To prove I’m no longer who I used to be.

To show I’m not someone who simply takes life lying down.

"...I’m the same as you, Ilma."

"Don’t get cocky. You and I are nothing alike."

She kicked my shin and clicked her tongue.

"Once you’ve drawn your sword, let go of the thought that you can’t win. Only then can you leave a mark, however small."

"......"

"Remember that, you idiot."

Ilma waved her hand sharply.

The air seemed to ripple.

"No warrior swings their sword expecting to lose."

I gasped for breath. My vision blurred. Everything ahead was a haze.

I gripped my sword. My hands were numb despite holding it. Though my wounds had healed, my body no longer responded.

Was it exhaustion? No, this wasn’t that.

The sword.

Each clash with my opponent’s blade sent a strange force invading my internal energy, seeping in and hollowing me out from within.

"One second should’ve been enough," the Soul-Severing Sword murmured thoughtfully.

"But after crossing swords with you, I realized it would take ten seconds. Then, at the end of those ten seconds, I extended it to thirty."

"......"

"You exceeded my expectations. Still, thirty seconds. That’s the limit. Thirty. Your internal energy matches an astonishing growth for your age, but even you won’t endure beyond that. Soul-Severing Sword. Do you know what it is?"

Nohacheon, the Soul-Severing Sword, spun his blade leisurely.

"The Soul-Severing Sword absorbs the essence of its opponent—internal energy, stamina, everything—through its tip, making it mine. Those who cross blades with me destroy themselves. Faces once full of confidence crumble before me. The more we fight, the stronger I grow. The more your sword meets mine, the weaker you become. The greater the disparity between us, the faster you fall."

"......"

"And yet... I expected thirty seconds, but..."

Nohacheon’s shoulders shook with laughter.

"You’ve surpassed a hundred seconds. What kind of monster are you?"

I tried to answer, but only wheezing escaped my lips.

My energy was gone. My internal reserves were nearly empty and faltering.

I was dying. Outwardly intact, yet nothing more than a hollow shell inside.

The Soul-Severing Sword.

I’d known from the start I couldn’t defeat him. Yet I had to endure.

I poured everything into the fight—bone, flesh, even time itself—just to hold him back. But now, even that was at its limit.

I tried to stand. My legs gave out, collapsing beneath me.

There was nothing left.

Nothing to give.

And yet, I rose.

Leaning on my sword, like a fragile doll about to shatter.

"Stabilizing a body that’s already broken… That’s no small feat. But it’s reckless. Your body can no longer swing a sword. Your life as a warrior is effectively over. Your blood vessels are twisted, and your dantian is on the verge of breaking. What do you have left?"

"......"

What do I have left?

I pulled at my memories, searching for an answer.

The trembling tip of my sword held the weight of my spoken words.

"There is still one thing left. A guardian warrior of the Sama Family."

I took up the disadvantage willingly. For one reason.

I couldn’t allow an innocent man to die.

Why?

—Because I wanted to.

I always wanted to.

I wanted to distance myself from the person I used to be, who ran and stayed silent. I wanted to face the weight of my silence and reject it.

Life.

That life.

—Is it so heavy as to throw it away in silence?

In that question, I gripped my sword. My answer awaited me.

The blade trembled as if it might collapse under the strain, but...

My answer guided me.

That was my sword.

Amid the wind’s howls, I forced my lungs to work and spoke a single word.

"The sword."

That single word reminded me of what still remained.

"The sword remains, Soul-Severing Sword."

"...Ha-ha."

Nohacheon laughed.

"You lunatic. What a pity. I’ve never met anyone like you before. If the chance allowed it, I would’ve taken you under my wing, but..."

The humor left his voice. The massive greatsword scraped the ground.

"That’s not possible now. I’ll end this here."

The sound of air tearing.

A faint step against the ground.

The speed of his movement was beyond comprehension. Yet I reached out.

Gripping my sword.

...Because I still held it.

--- KAAAAANG!!!

The clash of steel rang out. My sword trembled violently, ready to shatter.

I spat blood, momentarily blinded. Instinctively, I bent over.

A sword whistled past my head, its trajectory suddenly curving to strike down.

I blocked.

It broke.

My shattered thigh bone crumbled to dust as I sank to the ground.

"Urgh!"

I rolled away, dragging my broken body, and swung my sword weakly. But the Soul-Severing Sword moved faster. A gleaming blade flashed before my eyes, severing my right arm.

Blood spurted out.

My sword fell from my grasp.

"Now, truly, there’s nothing left."

The world spun around me. Even the stars in the night sky seemed to fade from sight.

The boundary between life and death loomed before me. I could feel the whispers of the dead growing louder.

It was just a thread’s width away.

When that blade moved again…

Everything would end.

Perhaps even the excruciating pain in my body would cease. Maybe, if I gave everything up, it would finally bring relief.

"…Don’t die."

A voice echoed in my head.

I was dizzy. I had lost my sword; wasn’t it time to lie down and let it end?

I wanted to rest. The desire to escape this torment was overwhelming. The endless agony, the pain of a body on the verge of destruction—I was sick of it.

Pain upon pain piled up, and my shattered body begged for release.

…Maybe there really are things in this world that effort alone cannot change.

I had thought so. Each time I swung my sword, the thought grew stronger.

The deeper the pain, the more desperate I became to simply endure. I was weak. I doubted even my own resolve.

And so, I swung my sword harder, trying to prove myself wrong.

But the doubt never left me.

No matter how tirelessly I swung, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would always remain one of those who couldn’t change.

"Hold on, you bastard! If you don’t, I’ll kill you myself!"

The faint path I was on felt sturdy, but it was littered with danger.

I walked that precarious path, forcing myself not to look back.

The Soul-Severing Sword’s blade gleamed before me. Its perfect, merciless strike bore down, and I closed my eyes.

Death was coming.

I had no strength left to resist.

There are some things that effort alone cannot change.

They slip out of our grasp—

"Once you’ve drawn your sword, abandon the thought that you can’t win."

…Slip away—

"Only then can you leave a mark, even if it’s just a bite."

…

..

.

My hand reached out.

I didn’t even realize I had moved.

A blood-red shadow slid into the tiniest gap, exploiting an instant of vulnerability. The confident face of the Soul-Severing Sword distorted for the first time.

Ghostly One Demon (귀수일마, Gwisuilma).

With my remaining left hand, I struck at his waist.

---Crack!!!

"Urgh?!"

The Soul-Severing Sword staggered, retreating as he clutched his side. I grasped at my half-severed neck with trembling hands, forcing it back together and relying on my demonic regeneration to keep going.

Why…?

Why did I reach out?

The sword was far from me. My right arm was gone.

The tide of battle had already turned. I was breaking apart, and my opponent was as strong as ever.

Holding on would only prolong the pain.

I knew that better than anyone.

"What is this…?! How are you even moving with that body?!"

I caught my breath, looking down at my clenched fist.

Ghostly One Demon. The foundation of the Nine Heavens Blood Demon Technique.

The blood-red shadow whispered to me, reminding me of what I had forgotten, drawing forth memories buried deep.

"No warrior swings their sword expecting to lose."

…The pain had caused me to forget the teachings, filling me with doubt.

I tightened my grip, gathering strength as I exhaled.

Struggle.

My entire life had been one desperate struggle, clawing my way forward at the edge of death.

But this time, I had forgotten that. Fear of the pain had made me give up fighting altogether.

Now that I had recognized my mistake, I had to correct it.

I stood, retrieving the sword I had dropped. The Soul-Severing Sword watched me with wary eyes as I approached.

"Your arm… It reattached? Who… What are you?"

The moonlight glinted off the blood-streaked blade, reflecting the clouds that hung between us.

Who am I? What have I been striving for all this time?

The answer was simple.

There is a back I long to follow.

I have been running endlessly to catch up to her.

There is no time for doubt. No time to hesitate or strategize.

Each moment is another step forward.

Thinking is a luxury.

Set it aside.

That’s the work of scholars, not warriors. It’s far removed from my life.

I gripped the sword I had lost and answered his question.

There may indeed be things in this world that cannot be changed through effort alone.

Even so, I keep moving. Whispering my fate into the edge of my sword.

…Yes.

Sometimes, there is a path you cannot turn away from. A back you cannot stop pursuing, no matter how hard you try.

In that case, what can you do?

You move forward.

"I am a warrior."

Not simply to admire that distant figure.

The Soul-Severing Sword’s twisted expression gave way to awe. His shoulders shook as laughter overtook him.

"Ha… Hahaha! Ahahahaha! You lunatic! Fine! At this point, what does it even matter?! The only thing that matters is the sword! A warrior’s only true possession is their blade! Life hangs on its edge! Who you are doesn’t matter! What you wield does!"

"Raise your sword, Soul-Severing Sword."

I abandoned my unsteady stance.

Instead, I bared my fangs, pouring the teachings I had forgotten into the tip of my blade.

As a warrior.

As one who chases the back of the Heavenly Demon.

"From now on, I plan to win."

I let go of the sword meant for survival and raised the one meant for victory.