V2 Chapter 114: The First Sword Saint, And Then…

The founder of the Mitsurugi family. The originator of the Phantom Blade Style. A hero who sealed the Demon God and saved the world three hundred years ago.

The First Sword Saint, Mitsurugi Kazuma.

Of course, I knew that name. It was a name I had heard so many times since childhood that I was sick of it.

Therefore, it was no surprise to me that the name was still spoken of in the realm of the Kijin. From the Kijin’s perspective, the First Sword Saint who sealed the Demon God must surely be an abhorrent figure.

The issue, if there was one, was the term “traitor.” The word ‘betrayal’ is not used for a mere defeated opponent. It is a term reserved solely for those who once belonged to the same side.

The fact that Sozai, a Kijin, had called Mitsurugi Kazuma a traitor meant that the First Sword Saint had at some point fought alongside the Kijin.

That enemy was likely a Mythical Creature. Therefore, it seems likely that the First Sword Saint was also one of the warriors mentioned in the scriptures of the religion of the God of Light, who aimed to defeat the “original serpent” and save the world.

By extension, it seems the First Sword Saint, Holy Maiden Sophia of the God of Light’s temple, and the warriors of Kamuna who sealed the serpent along with the Holy Maiden, must have been quite closely related.

However, according to Emperor Amadeus II, the temple of the God of Light revered the earth that gave birth to the Mythical Creatures. The legend that Holy Maiden Sophia Azurite sealed a Mythical Creature clearly contradicts the Emperor’s story.

Is the Emperor wrong, or is the legend of the Holy Maiden incorrect? Or are both wrong, and a completely different truth is hidden?

When this mystery is unraveled, the truth from three hundred years ago will likely become clear as well. Such a thought crossed my mind suddenly.

— At that moment.

“How long do you plan on lying there?”

I heard a voice, unfamiliar yet oddly familiar.

Simultaneously, an image of a swordsman naturally came to mind.

A young and handsome face, sharp and intelligent eyes. A demeanor with no openings, just by looking one could sense the dignity and grace of someone born to lead.

He looked to be in his early twenties. His hair and eye color suggested the blood of the eastern continent; they were black. Upon closer inspection, he had a fine face, but the deep furrow between his eyebrows gave a rather difficult impression.

Like or dislike aside, it was a memorable appearance that one would not forget after a single glance.

However, this person does not exist in my memory. Of course, I’ve never been spoken to by him.

Yet, this sense of certainty in knowing him was familiar. This was the same as when I glimpsed the memories of the Soul Eater while facing the Behemoth in the Catalan desert…


“… Brother. Do you not think it’s rather cruel to speak to someone that way after you’ve struck them in the solar plexus with such force that they’ve collapsed to the ground?”

The boy, lying on the ground and covered in sand, spoke with a pitiable tone.

In response, the person addressed as ‘brother’ by the young boy answered in a calm and detached manner.

“Fool. You could’ve easily dodged that blow if you’d wanted to. You let yourself be hit because you’re tired of our prolonged training, didn’t you? You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Absolutely not! Who could ever think of using such petty tricks against you, Brother? After all, there’s no one on the entire Green Woods Island who could easily evade your keen strikes!”

The boy ardently praised his brother’s skills. Although his words had a tinge of flattery, they also reflected his genuine admiration for his brother.

However, the one being flattered remained unmoved and responded in the same detached tone.

“If you have the energy to speak so emphatically, then you have enough energy to continue training. Take your stance.”

“… Understood.”

The boy reluctantly got up. He knew from years of brotherly interactions that arguing any further would be futile.

Watching his brother, the elder brother sighed faintly.

“If we’re talking purely about talent in swordsmanship, you are far superior to me. The only reason that isn’t reflected in your abilities is because you haven’t devoted as much time and passion to training.”

The elder brother had accepted that if his younger sibling practiced with the same devotion, he would easily surpass him. The boy harbored what is known as innate talent.

However, even the most extraordinary talent is nothing but an unpolished gem buried in mud if it remains hidden. To bring out the brilliance of that gem-like talent, one must wash away the mud and polish the raw stone.

“It’s been three months since our father and uncle were killed by Mythical Creatures. Now, only you and I remain as the men of the Mitsurugi family. We must together build our family’s future.”

“And then what? Are we to be used as pawns by those Nanashiki users, just like our father and others?”

At the boy’s counter-question, a small wrinkle formed between the elder’s brows.

The younger continued to speak without waiting for his brother’s response, his tone filled with disdain as he almost spat out the words. Of course, that feeling wasn’t directed at his brother standing before him.

“Defeating evil spirits and demons as humans is the philosophy of the Fangxiang clan? Those who can achieve this are Nanashiki users? Ha! That’s ridiculous! Isn’t it true that Nanashiki users use others who haven’t learned the art as a shield, taking credit for the final blow themselves? ‘One general achieves success while ten thousand bones dry up’—what a fitting saying!”

Having vented his pent-up frustrations, the boy found himself even more agitated, unable to stop speaking.

“Firstly, the Nanashiki style is a sword technique specialized for killing Kijin. It’s not much different from any random swordsmanship when facing Mythical Creatures. As proof, the last battle showed that the Nanashiki users’ Gerou technique had no effect at all, and they were severely beaten by the Mythical Creatures. It’s doubtful whether the Fangxiang clan could fulfill its mission the next time Mythical Creatures appear.”

The boy wondered how meaningful it was to train in Nanashiki, which takes twenty to thirty years to master, under such circumstances.

Even so, if asked what should be done instead, he had no definite answer.

He knew that the Nanashiki style was ineffective against the frequent calamities caused by Mythical Creatures, but there was no alternative power to replace it.

It was natural. There was no way that a mere human could match the power of Mythical Creatures.

“— Have you calmed down?”

After the boy had stopped speaking and silently counted to ten, his brother quietly asked him.

The boy nodded and lowered his head apologetically.

“I apologize, brother. I spoke out of turn.”

He thought that his brother, Mitsurugi Kazuma, must have understood all this long ago.

Knowing all this, his brother still continued his training. He believed that even if it was a small possibility, it was more meaningful than dreaming of an inexistent “power.”

Thinking about his brother’s struggles since the death of their father and uncle, the boy took up his wooden sword with a serious look.

He couldn’t afford to lean on his brother, who was already burdened with heavy responsibilities.

If he thought he was doing it not for the Fangxiang clan but for his brother, he could find meaning in the seemingly pointless training.

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