Chapter 65

A strong grip pulled my face, and icy river water poured over my head.

Beyond the curtain, a galaxy of stars filled my vision. In the center stood a large man.

A long scar ran from his right forehead down to below his mask.

Thick eyebrows.

Fierce eyes.

Below that, his face was hidden by a black mask, but it was evident that he was not a gentle man.

"...A woman?"

Most of all, the man's eyes.

Though they seemed sunken, they were vividly green.

"I thought you were fearless. Is it because you're a woman?"

And a mocking voice.

Everything felt familiar, as if I had experienced it somewhere before. And it was unpleasant.

'Why?'

An unusual sense of discomfort, rarely felt, struck my mind like a trigger.

The instinct long hidden in the depths of my soul began to stir.

Cut what is unpleasant.

But I am not a sword demon who follows instinct.

'Calm down.'

But to survive, I pulled the pearl hanging from my ear with my right hand.

Crack.

A powerful current spread like a waterfall, echoing in all directions. As I grasped the sword with my left hand, the cold touch was satisfying.

Ah, yes. This is it.

This is a sword.

Whoosh!

I cut through the waterfall.

Thud, the man's wide-open eyes magnified through the gap of the severed water surface. I had no intention of retreating and charged straight at him.

Clang! Screech...

The man's sword, which met mine, was excellent.

His skill is excellent. His posture is excellent. It had to be.

Because he is an excellent swordsman.

After being pushed back for a while, the man finally stopped, planting his feet firmly on the riverbed.

"Who are you?"

The eyes above the mask drew an interested curve.

"A woman. Left-handed. Flexible. Skilled."

"..."

"I've never heard of a swordsman like you. You're amazing. Where did you come from?"

Why? I am not curious about the man's identity.

I don't want to know if he is related to the sword demon or if he is the one who stole Dean Ket's diary.

What I am curious about is one thing.

"Your face."

"What?"

"I need to see your face. Take off the mask."

"You really say anything."

If you can't take it off, I'll make you.

I infused the sword with mana. A black light burst from the blade and flew horizontally.

But the man had already leaped to the top of the rock above the waterfall.

"Black sword aura?"

His question was drowned out by the consecutive sounds of the sword aura breaking the air.

Water and mud shot up from all sides. The intense noise that filled the night sky made my head spin.

-Kill.

The sword whispered.

A strange resonance. It should be a voice I've never heard before, yet it feels strangely familiar.

I have been listening to this voice for a very long time. Since I started slaying demons and massacring Mephisto's army...

-Kill.

My body was energized. It felt like I had returned to four years ago.

A figure emerged from the mist and swung a sword.

My arm, which barely blocked it, lost its balance and tilted slightly. The man, unlike before, was holding the sword with his left hand.

He is an ambidextrous swordsman. He can wield a sword with his left hand.

"What was your purpose in sneaking into the emperor's treasury without fear?"

-Cut him down.

"Who sent you?"

The man's voice invaded my mind, pulling out an unpleasant hallucination.

"What are you talking about? After the war, I have to leave this wretched island."

-Kill.

"I can't live as a beggar. Think about how to make a living, sister. I can survive as a soldier if I have nothing else to do, but you can't."

-Cut him down.

Ah, it's noisy.

I burst the sword aura to suppress the hallucination.

The tree hit by the sword aura caught fire. I asked the man, spitting out the heat in my head.

"I know you. You died a long time ago. Didn't you?"

There's no way you could be alive.

The man's eyes twisted unpleasantly.

"Are you crazy?"

This man is a fake.

-Kill.

He can't be real.

-Kill.

"Seems like the women who wield swords are all crazy. Are you a sword demon too?"

-Cut him down.

I swung the sword wildly.

I saw an opening under his armpit. I swung my arm to stab him, but my body stopped just before it reached him.

No, I can't cut him.

The man, reading the moment of hesitation, thrust his sword into my left shoulder.

At that moment.

'Ah.'

My mind cleared magically.

The chaotic voices that dominated my head and body disappeared, leaving only a sharp pain.

The attack that pierced my shoulder had stopped the resonance of the sword.

Thanks to this, I remembered a fact I had completely forgotten.

"Don't worry, I'm not dead. My right arm is just a rag."

"Terrible. What's the condition? Does it need to be amputated?"

"Of course not. I found and collected the finger bones that were lost to the demon. If there's a military mage, they can be reattached."

The past I saw in the trap.

The arm in the past was not destroyed by the demon.

I destroyed it.

For one reason: to regain my sanity, which I almost completely lost.

'...Right, swinging a sword while losing my mind feels like this. It's like dreaming while standing.'

The deeper I merged with the sword, the more intense the pain that brought back my sanity.

Damn sword.

As the strength in my left arm drained, the white blade slipped from my grip and sank into the water.

At the same time, a cold blade touched my chin. The man lifted my chin with the tip of his sword and examined my face.

"What's your name?"

Facing him feels not just strange but surreal, as if walking on water.

I thought that by breaking free from the sword demon state and facing him with a clearer mind, I could break the illusion.

But no.

I am not hallucinating.

This man is not a fake.

The longer I looked into his eyes, the stronger my conviction grew.

This man is real.

"...I can't hear any resonance from your sword."

"What?"

I looked at the man's left hand, calloused from practice.

His right hand was similar. There was no bias; both hands showed signs of diligent practice.

"Quiet and composed. You are a perfect example of an excellent swordsman. You wield a sword that is the opposite of your dirty nature, so your skill is not just good, it's exceptional."

"Have you been spouting nonsense this whole time?"

A small laugh escaped me. His rough tone remained.

Taking advantage of the return of my sanity, I tried to gauge his current status.

Given that he asked why I was out of the report, it was clear that he was from the Sword City.

But his skill was unrealistically excellent to be one of the knights of the Berkeley Grayton family.

He might be even more skilled than Jin. A swordsman with such outstanding skill and talent at his age...

"Ah, right. Are you Garosh? You have received the teachings of the Sword City well."

The man, who had been doing light neck exercises with his eyes closed, let out a rough sigh.

"Since I can't kill you, I'll knock you out. I feel uneasy about hitting a woman, but you'll sleep soundly after a good beating."

What are you saying, you moron?

"Soft. Does a sword demon care about gender? You're just a big kid. When will you grow up?"

"Shut up."

The man rolled his shoulder to build momentum for his punch.

Does he think I'll take it quietly with the wound on my shoulder? A laugh escaped me at his naivety.

But even as I laughed, the question remained.

How are you still alive?

"Andert."

My brother.

"Why can't you remember me?"

"...Who are you calling?"

The man's fist loosened slightly.

I didn't miss the moment and used my toe to flick the blade from the bottom, sending it into the air.

Then, instead of my left hand, I grabbed the hilt with my right hand and swung it horizontally.

"Ugh!"

With a short grunt, the man stepped back.

At the same time, the black mask covering his face was cleanly cut and flew away in the wind.

As the lips and chin hidden beneath it were revealed, I was speechless.

A long scar ran across his face.

A myriad of complex emotions surged like a tidal wave, threatening to burst my heart. My breath was caught in my throat.

I was right.

The man was my brother, Andert, whom I thought was dead.

'He's alive.'

Andert is alive.

Now, he goes by the name Garosh.

'How?'

No, that question is no longer important.

Andert is alive.

Even though he doesn't recognize me, he is alive.