Chapter: 372
Crash─!
With a sound of the ground being stomped, Yoon Si-woo’s body shot forth, and before he knew it, the sword gripped in his hand swung.
Clang─!
The pure white trajectory came to a halt before the pitch-black sword.
As the swords clashed, their gazes exchanged, and beyond the swords, Yoon Si-woo asked softly towards Lucy.
“…Are you really not going to use your powers? Are you thinking of going easy on me?”
“Heh, when swordsmen are clashing, do you think I’d use such petty tricks?”
In response to Yoon Si-woo’s question, Lucy smirked.
She knew that Si-woo wouldn’t throw such a question unless he was genuinely seeking a way to engage her spirit in their duel to gain the upper hand.
But she didn’t feel insulted at all.
Rather, she found his cute antics surprisingly charming.
It was evidence that he genuinely wanted to defeat her.
“And as for going easy… You should know well, don’t you?”
Thus, in a way to respond to his efforts, Lucy decided to reply to Yoon Si-woo.
A fact he knew better than anyone.
“I am strong, even without such powers.”
And then, the attack.
Clang─!
In that brief moment, the swords intertwined in mid-air, producing sharp sounds that echoed.
Feeling like he needed to regain his stance, blood flowed down Yoon Si-woo’s cheek after he was knocked back.
In this exchange, the one who suffered was Yoon Si-woo.
But it wasn’t like he took a total loss either.
“…Haha!”
Noticing his sleeve had been cut and tattered, Lucy burst out laughing.
She was only not using her powers, but she was putting everything into this fight.
Wasn’t he the boy who couldn’t even graze her a hair before?
And yet now, he had grown strong enough to stand on nearly equal footing with her, who was serious.
Gone was the fragile boy who had crumbled after losing someone precious earlier.
Now, what stood before her was a swordsman that could rival her for the title of the strongest.
The young kid she had watched since he was little—when had he grown up like this?
With a mix of pride and joy, Lucy called out to Yoon Si-woo.
“Surely, this can’t be all you’ve got!”
“…Kugh, of course not!”
With a clang─!
Mixing in a bit of provocation to surely get him riled up, Yoon Si-woo charged.
His sword was now at a level similar to Lucy’s, and she observed it with a complex and subtle expression, muttering softly.
“…Indeed, you’re similar.”
The sword that Yoon Si-woo wielded resembled Lucy’s sword, likely because he had learned from her.
And that meant it couldn’t help but resemble the sword of a certain swordsman who had taught her, too.
But Lucy was not merely waxing poetic over Si-woo’s sword.
The resemblance between that swordsman’s stance and Yoon Si-woo’s swordsmanship was so strong that mere words about similarity would not suffice.
Because she knew too well that it wasn’t merely coincidence.
Realizing this while exchanging blades, Lucy couldn’t help but recall the past.
*
In the world, many were strong enough to boast they were the greatest.
However, there came a day when a rumor began to circulate among those strong.
It was the tale of a witch known to seek out powerful foes for duel—stating she would challenge anyone strong enough to face her.
By the time the rumor had spread, most strong men had answered her challenge.
Because they were all proud individuals with strong egos as much as their strengths.
But as it was said that all those who dared to have a duel with the witch lost their lives at her hands, the strong began to slowly avoid the challenge.
They hired escorts, sometimes rallied armies, and sometimes they shut themselves within castle walls.
However, nothing could stop the witch.
If she faced guards, she cut them down.
If an army tried to block her, they were slain.
If the walls of a fortress got in her way, they were brought down.
Ultimately, those who realized that nothing could stop the witch all knelt before her.
The only way to survive a duel with her was to surrender before the fight even began.
And just five years after she began seeking out mighty foes,
The Witch of Arrogance, Lucifel, rose to the indisputable peak of strength.
A position that anyone who sought to be a swordsman would dream of attaining.
But for some reason…
“Although I’ve achieved the goal of becoming the strongest, why does it feel so hollow…”
Despite realizing her dream of becoming the strongest, Lucifel felt emptiness instead.
What could this be for?
Was it because it was achieved too easily?
Or was it because being the strongest was less than she had expected?
No, it wasn’t for that reason.
…In reality, didn’t she know?
Lucifel smiled wryly as it came to her.
‘…Would you be happy if I fulfilled the dream you couldn’t achieve?’
‘…You mean becoming stronger than anyone else? No. Dreams should be set based on what you truly desire, not for someone else.’
‘It’s not specifically for you. I am doing this because I want to. Just as you have said, I’m now a swordsman too. A goal of becoming the strongest with a sword is only natural to hold in my heart.’
The memories of the nameless swordsman who gave her a name.
‘…Truly, from beginning to end, he was a man without any cunning.’
‘Don’t be mistaken. I am really doing this because I want to, not specifically for you.’
‘So watch me. Witness my ascent to being the strongest in the world.’
And the memories of that day when he left her side were there.
Surely, back then, she had said such things…
Lucifel, realizing this, smiled bitterly to herself.
“…I was just lying to myself.”
The reason she felt such emptiness despite achieving her goal was that what she genuinely wanted wasn’t this.
The goal of ultimate strength that Lucifel had achieved was ultimately not hers, but his.
She had been lying to herself all along, thinking that if she achieved it instead, he would be happy.
Yes, what she truly wanted was just…
“…You and I, we were both hopeless from the start.”
But that dream was now an unattainable one.
The man who knew nothing other than his sword had forever left her side.
While reminiscing about him, Lucifel suddenly felt a wave of loneliness wash over her.
Until now, she had been able to avoid other thoughts by solely focusing on the goal of becoming the strongest, yet now that she had achieved it, all the emotions she had ignored came crashing in like a tidal wave.
“…Being the strongest is painfully lonely, isn’t it?”
What she truly desired had become unattainable, and she had achieved even the substitute goal far too quickly.
Now all that remained was an interminable expanse of time to live without purpose.
“…What on earth should I live for going forward?”
Having lost her life’s purpose, Lucifel looked up at the sky and murmured in solitude.
And so, twenty years passed.
Lucifel took up residence in a cave.
The area around the cave where she resided became notorious as the home of a fearsome witch, and naturally, people began to avoid it.
In the remote cave, Lucifel spent her time in quiet, precisely defined as being dead to the world.
It hadn’t always been like that.
At first, to stay true to her identity as a swordsman, she would train with her sword, or to ease her loneliness, she attempted to use the elusive power flowing from her to create life forms.
But at some point, she realized that none of that meant anything to her anymore, and Lucifel lost her will to do anything and simply faded away like a corpse.
She did move occasionally, but only when some reckless humans, driven by their covetous bloodthirst, dared to invade her cave, seeking to slay the witch.
That day too, she presumed it would be one of those days.
Pitter-patter.
Awakened by the sound of footsteps outside her cave, Lucifel quietly warned the intruder.
“…If you’re not looking to die, then turn back at once.”
Having reached the pinnacle of strength, she had no desire for unnecessary fights, hence the warning.
But perhaps because those who came had heard of her infamy, most of those who sought her were simply brash novices, ignoring the threat to their lives, and choosing to provoke her instead.
As expected, the footsteps didn’t stop despite her warning, and Lucifel exhaled lightly, resigning herself to stand up and grab her sword.
However, the moment she laid eyes on the intruder,
“…Oh?”
Lucifel couldn’t help but reassess the situation.
“At least, you don’t appear to be just a nobody.”
The intruder, clad in gleaming armor and wearing a white helmet, had a rather striking appearance, with several swords hanging at his waist.
But it wasn’t merely his appearance; what captivated Lucifel’s attention was the powerful aura emanating from him.
An aura sharp and tempered, one that could only be forged by years of diligent sword training.
She couldn’t help but admire the presence of this intruder, who didn’t feel easy-going even by her standards, and she subtly posed her question.
“…From how you carry yourself, you don’t seem like someone who came seeking prestige. What brings you all the way here?”
In response to Lucifel’s question, the intruder drew one of his swords from his waist and aimed it at her.
That was enough of an answer for Lucifel, and she chuckled softly for the first time in a while.
“Ha, is that so? I misspoke. What reason does a swordsman need to clash blades with someone strong?”
Leaning against the cave wall, Lucifel grasped her sword and aimed it at the intruder.
“Come at me, challenger.”
And at that moment,
Clang─!
In an instant, their distances shortened, and the swords clashed.
And at the very moment they exchanged their strokes…
“…?!”
Lucifel’s expression turned to one of amazement.
They say swordsmen can communicate without words through their clashes.
The more skilled the swordsman, the more information can be deciphered from the opponent’s sword.
And in that one exchange, Lucifel deciphered one thing.
A sense of déjà vu.
“This is…”
A swordsman’s sword carries the history of its wielder.
Thus, it was natural that each sword would possess unique differences.
“It can’t be….”
She wanted to dismiss it as mere coincidence.
Despite seeing it with her eyes and feeling it with her body,
Lucifel convinced herself it was just a fluke that her sword was strikingly similar to the one wielded by this intruder.
Because such a thing should be impossible.
Every swordsman she had faced and who would have influenced her sword had already met their end.
But if, if this similarity wasn’t mere coincidence…
Clang─!
As the swords rebounded from their clash, the distance between them expanded slightly.
“……”
A moment of silence followed.
With a resolve to conclude this exchange, the intruder slowly raised his sword.
Lucifel, too, raised her sword, her expression a mixture of complicated emotions.
In the next instant, both swords swung in unison.
Like reflections in a mirror, they moved in perfect synchronization.
Quietly.
Silently.
A fraction of a second later, a resounding echo erupted.
The cave itself cried out in despair at the impact of the two swords clashing.
Amidst that explosive noise, a small crack sounded, and the intruder’s helmet split in two and fell away.
And what was revealed within that helmet was,
“…It’s been a while, Lucifel.”
The face of the swordsman, who had aged slightly but still retained the countenance she remembered vividly.
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