Click.
Transylvania tore open the blood pack with her teeth and gulped it down.
It was bad blood, probably sold by some scoundrel.
It wasn’t this tasteless before.
Strangely enough, the blood became this tasteless after hanging around with humans.
Still, it was a necessity for survival.
Transylvania grimaced, holding the blood pack with one hand while reaching down with the other to pat her waist.
The sensation she should be feeling was absent.
Looking down, she noticed the sword that was always tied to her left waist was missing.
The sword that Dakia had passed down.
No, more accurately, it was a sword she had stolen after Dakia died.
“Oh.”
And in that moment, memories resurfaced.
The reason she had stormed into Elvenguard and killed a guy claiming to be Rex’s brother.
The reason she left quietly after killing him.
She remembered everything.
That night had been rainy.
Transylvania climbed the steep mountain with a load of food and supplies on a carrier.
The shabby thatched house halfway up the mountain gradually revealed itself.
From afar, a rhythmically shaking sound seemed to be shaking the ground.
“Oh. Is that you, Sylvia?”
“Don’t call me that. Put down the sword, will you? You’ll hurt yourself swinging it around.”
At the back of the thatched house, a gray-bearded old man was swinging an ungainly sword.
The sword was so blunt and dented that it looked like it had seen better days.
Yet, every time the weak old man’s bony arms wielded it, powerful strikes erupted as if to cleave the mountain.
“I’m finally on the brink of enlightenment. Right before my eyes…”
The old man’s name was Dakia.
A diligent person who developed a swordsmanship passed down from ancient times.
And finally nearing the ultimate secrets of that swordsmanship, he was a genius.
Dakia had never once held a sword until he reached middle age.
However, after a chance encounter and Transylvania’s encouragement, he picked up a sword.
Awakening explosive talent, in just a decade he surpassed the Swordmaster, even overpowering Transylvania.
Then, like any other genius, he tired of the limitations of traditional swordsmanship and devised a new style.
It was a transformation of a long-lost ancient offensive swordsmanship that had nearly gone extinct.
“Eat and swing.”
“My spirit is the food scattered by the blade. Just breathing is enough to fill me…!”
“You’re just gassy. That’s an illusion, you old coot. Eat while you swing!”
“Ugh…”
Transylvania sensed it.
Dakia’s lifespan was nearing its end.
And Dakia’s sword was on the brink of evolution once again.
For over ten years, he had been frustrated with a lack of progress.
Only at the brink of death, joints twisted and back bent, was Dakia seeking enlightenment.
“I’m done with food. I need Mana Herbs.”
“You’ll die from smoking that. Eat something.”
“I know my body best. I’m already on the verge of death. Just because I eat and sleep healthily doesn’t mean my lifespan will magically extend. Stop the chatter and get me those Mana Herbs. I’m wasting precious time sleeping, you know.”
“…”
Transylvania couldn’t refute him anymore.
Dakia was near death and on the verge of achieving the ultimate secrets.
Every minute, every second was precious.
Though she couldn’t grasp the desire of a human wanting to complete the sword secrets he devoted his life to, she could feel his intensity resonate even in her long-stopped heart.
“Don’t die. Just wait.”
“Can I do that at my own convenience? Hehehe.”
“Seriously, just don’t die!”
And with that, Transylvania hurried down the mountain.
It would take over a month to reach the nearest village on foot.
Yet, laden with Mana Herbs, Transylvania returned in less than two weeks.
“Dakia! Why is it so quiet? Don’t tell me you’ve… de…d…!”
Hack, cough! Sylvia…
But what awaited Transylvania was the collapsed thatched house.
And Dakia, bleeding from a wound in his stomach, lay there.
“Run away…”
“You’re the accomplice of that murderer, after all. I held you as a hostage, hoping you’d finally answer where that killer went, but… I fell right into the trap.”
“….”
Heavily armed elves surrounded Transylvania.
The one leading them must have been a high-ranking warrior.
Transylvania memorized his face immediately.
It had been nearly a hundred years since he was branded a murderer.
Wherever he went, bloodstorms followed Transylvania.
It was common for bounty hunters to raid the places he stayed and cause chaos.
This time, it was no different from such incidents.
Yet for some reason.
Holding the gasping Dakia in her arms, Transylvania felt an intense anger she hadn’t felt in so long.
“AAAAAAAH!!!”
That day, many elven warriors fell.
The leader, after exchanging a few blows with Transylvania, quickly fled.
In the river of blood, Transylvania vowed while embracing Dakia’s life-less body.
She would carry on his swordsmanship legacy.
Though being an ordinary person, she didn’t know if she could succeed, but she would do her best to realize it.
She would also complete the secrets he couldn’t finish.
And she would exact vengeance for him.
After burying Dakia, Transylvania swiftly gathered information to learn the name of the elven leader.
He was a high-ranking warrior who had returned to Elvenguard just days after setting out to hunt down the murderer.
Without hesitation, Transylvania set course for Elvenguard.
Cutting down the high-ranking warrior who had been relaxing at home without a care.
It was certain.
That was the face she had seen before.
She avenged Dakia.
Now, there was no reason to spill any more blood.
Transylvania complied with the priestess’s intervention and left Elvenguard.
From then on, she polished and wielded the sword that belonged to Dakia.
Currently, she had loaned it to a human who had gone off to duel.
“No wonder I couldn’t remember.”
Of course she wouldn’t remember the young elf, who threatened her with a dagger back then.
When she was consumed by rage, everything else faded away.
Transylvania chuckled and sat on the floor.
She had done her best to recreate it, but it was merely a counterfeit of the ultimate secret.
The resemblance of the young human’s form to Dakia’s dying sword could have been due to any number of reasons.
Maybe it was because the sword had shattered and reached an extreme of inefficiency, becoming reminiscent of the broken old man swinging it.
“I guess there’s nothing left to do.”
Now, she could only wait for the duel results.
Waiting for news that she managed to create a true essence from the counterfeit, Transylvania’s red eyes shone brightly in the darkness.
“Why does my body feel so itchy?”
An inexplicable thirst made her tremble.
*
I was cursed with a horrendous talent.
I realized this during my seventh lifetime.
Starting with the swordsmanship trait, I acquired sword skills from the beginning, but it took six regressions just to reach level 10 in Dakia-style swordsmanship.
At level 9 or 10, I was at least able to handle knights in training.
I thought I was strong.
Until I accidentally entered the swordsmanship academy and faced off against a Swordmaster.
He was merely a rookie who had just obtained the title of Swordmaster.
His youthful vitality, evident in his face, made him look even younger than me.
He hadn’t even realized the ultimate secret of swordsmanship yet, merely known as a ‘fake Swordmaster.’
But he was strong enough to toy with me.
That day, I realized the truth.
With level 10 in swordsmanship, I could barely scratch the surface of sword’s limits.
Despite all my regressions, I wouldn’t reach the level of those with real talent.
From that day on, I shifted my focus from swordsmanship to enhancing my combat power rapidly with minimal effort.
In other words, it was a trick.
It was faster to become stronger this way than exhausting myself practicing sword skills, and it worked better against monsters too.
Honestly, I had gotten much stronger.
Assuming I wasn’t lacking in battle experience, I could take on a rookie Swordmaster.
But after repeating my regressions over and over again, I hit a wall once more.
There were no tricks left that could make me stronger.
It was the end of a runaway life from the path of righteousness.
Having run away time and again, the exit had vanished.
I started swinging the sword I had given up on.
No longer settling for being the king of mediocrity, I chased the tail of a dragon.
The outcome was despairing.
Since my seventh life until now.
My swordsmanship level remained stagnant.
There was no sign of reaching the ultimate secrets either.
Even when I visited Elvenguard last time, I did train but ultimately it was just returning my body to the state it was in during the past round.
There was hardly any progression.
And finally.
An opportunity arose.
Not someone who learned the secrets, but someone who had directly established them.
I met Transylvania and honestly expected to gain significant understanding from her.
Yet, all I returned with was sheer indifference.
What should have been some corrections to basics eventually fell apart into mediocrity.
As I obsessed over the vague concept of ‘widening the attack range’ and the few instances of ultimates that Transylvania showed me, I barely continued mimicking.
In the end, I was furious with Transylvania for not even offering a single piece of advice.
So I guess my spite drove me onward.
I swung the sword regardless of my failing body.
I swung and swung again.
I might have swung as much in these past three days as I had in the entire 12 lifetimes.
Yet, I learned nothing.
But I didn’t give up.
I was tired of running away.
This time, instead of lamenting my lack of talent without even exploring further, I decided to give it my all, even if it meant living or dying.
“Huh? Why is the sword…?”
The moment I drew out the saber and held it, it felt awkward and unfamiliar, but as I grabbed it with both hands, my eyes lit up.
It was an ancient sword.
In that instinctively felt sensation, it was as if I could feel the hands of its former owner through the handle.
Not Transylvania’s hands.
More ancient than that.
The old master, who once wielded this sword, shape-shifting the handle as he infused it with intent.
His hand was in my grasp, guiding me.
Teaching me how to properly hold the saber for the first time.
Simultaneously, I felt an eerie whisper from him.
Relax your body.
Bring the sword close to you.
As if in a trance, I followed his guidance, gradually getting the stance right.
Then a shiver ran down my spine.
An astonishing feeling of familiarity.
The sword I had swung for three days.
The one I had awkwardly force-fed myself into, trying to copy Transylvania’s movements.
That very sword was nestled in my grip.
Of course, it was imitation.
I couldn’t perfectly replicate Transylvania’s technique.
But oddly, I had a sense that my grip felt more stable and complete now.
Trusting my instincts, which had usually led me astray, I decided this time would be different.
It wasn’t just me; Transylvania and this sword were both asserting that I was right.
“Stop with the nonsense…!”
Noticing the shift in my aura, Rex’s face went pale.
Perhaps Rex already sensed it.
No matter how much lifespan I burn or how much power I try to infuse into my body that exceeds my limits, I was standing before an insurmountable realm.
Yet, Rex lunged at me.
Probably in disbelief.
Or perhaps unable to accept it.
So I would show him.
I’d make him believe and accept it.
[Trait, ‘Dakia-style’ has leveled up.]
[Trait: Dakia-style (lv. 11)]
The system window appeared before my eyes.
The tip of my sword drew an arc as it moved.
The pinnacle of offensive swordsmanship.
An ultimate technique that extends the blade to places the sword can’t reach.
Dakia-style secrets.
That which I had realized while mimicking Transylvania, erupted from the sword’s edge.
Shwick…!
At first glance, it looked like a standard horizontal slice.
But the sword didn’t even come close to Rex; it merely cut through the air.
However, the spot I slashed wasn’t just the blade’s range.
The white sword aura extended from the blade, reaching for Rex.
Caught off guard, Rex twisted his stance oddly and tried to defend with his sword.
“Khuh?!”
Caught by the sword aura, Rex was sent flying backward.
Rolling on the ground, he got up, bewildered, staring at me.
Nothing to see here.
This duel was already over.
Preparing to seal the deal.
Dakia-style’s 14 basic techniques.
All the ones that were mocked as a mess were now infused with the ultimate secrets.
Shweee…!
I swung toward Rex, who was a distance away.
Horizontal, vertical, diagonal – all angles.
Unavoidable consecutive strikes rained down on him.
Countless sword auras poured forth from the sword that cut through the air.
Soon, white lines filled the view so densely it became indistinguishable.
Like an inescapable celestial net, the sword auras enveloped Rex.
“Kyaaaaaah!!!”
Rex tried desperately to block it.
But it was an attack that could not be halted by just one sword.
The sword auras surged toward Rex like a tide, and soon he collapsed, covered in cuts.
As he lost consciousness, the blue flames flickered out.
On the wall behind him, the sword auras embedded deeply, leaving many cracks.
Hah… Hah…
It’s over.
Finally, it’s over.
Sighing in relief, I slumped down.
“……Wow. Iron Blood Storm Slash.”
Beside me, Mi Jeong said with a cheesy tone.
Iron Blood Storm Slash?
Sorry, but that weird name isn’t happening.
[Technique Name has been registered.]
[Dakia-style Secrets: Iron Blood Storm Slash]
Ah, hell.
