WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 151: A Difficult Path

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If someone asked Sword Demon Raikal what the most impressive sword of his life had been, he would not need a moment to think.

It was Ruin Alastor's sword. The sword that killed the Sword Demon, the sword that made him abandon even the thought of retreating, the sword that made him sincerely think that he could die to it without regret.

Even after reincarnating, the sword Ruin had shown him in his final moments remained vast and deep within Kyle's heart. Given Kyle's nature, even if he had not died to Ruin's sword and instead lived long and healthily before meeting a happy, regretless death in front of everyone, he would have still picked up a sword again if he had reincarnated with his memories.

To both Raikal and Kyle, the sword was something inseparable from life.

Yet he had seen Ruin's sword, and died to Ruin's sword.

An indelible mark had been branded into Kyle's heart. Whatever the reason, he would have lived with a sword in hand because he simply liked swords. But Ruin's sword, the sword that had ended the Sword Demon's life, was the goal Kyle had to reach and surpass no matter what.

The Sword Mark he had received with his own body, carved into him at the cost of his life, had only grown deeper after he took hold of Fenris. Ruin Alastor, that damn bastard, had not put down his sword even after killing the Sword Demon. The sword of Ruin that Fenris had shown him was more, more, more beautiful and perfect than the one that had killed Raikal.

It was the very truth of the sword.

If there truly was a god of the sword, Kyle sincerely believed that name would refer to Ruin Alastor.

Ever since he had seen Ruin's sword through Fenris, Kyle had worked to reproduce it. It had not gone as he wished. Everything about him was lacking when it came to recreating that flawless sword. The absolute contained within the simple trajectories of cutting and thrusting was far too vague.

Kyle's strength, both in his previous life and this one, was that he never resisted learning. Even something entirely unfamiliar could be accepted and made his own.

Ruin's sword was different.

He could not grasp where he was supposed to begin accepting it, much less making it his own.

Little by little.

Whenever he tried to reproduce Ruin's sword, he felt himself growing more accustomed to it. Kyle's sword was slowly improving. Ruin, who might as well have been called the god of the sword, had defined the correct answer to the sword. The truth of the sword. The end of the sword.

Kyle could feel himself drawing closer to all of it.

'That's exactly the problem.'

In Complete Unity, Kyle thought.

What he had done since his past life was not imitation or repetition. It was adaptation and evolution. He had devoured the swords of others many times, but every sword he devoured had become part of his own.

'Your sword is so perfect that it keeps me from thinking about evolution.'

No matter how many times he swung it, he could only approach the end Ruin had reached. Even if he achieved a perfect reproduction, it would still be the place Ruin had already arrived at. Kyle could not yet imagine what came after.

He had realized that while watching Serga's sword.

He could present Serga with his own answer, but he could not do the same with Ruin's sword. If he could fight Ruin directly, he might be able to force an answer out somehow. But that was impossible.

Ruin was already dead.

'That's why it's so fucking frustrating. In the end, I have to keep fighting you in my imagination.'

And even in that imagination, he could not draw a clear answer.

Sublimation was the act of shaping one's inner image into a world, then bringing it into reality. That inner image had to be wholly one's own, an ideal one pursued by the self.

Yet Kyle's inner image was engraved not with his own sword, but with Ruin Alastor's sword. That sword, lodged at the center of the world he was trying to create, was limiting Kyle's potential as it pleased.

It was difficult even to use.

With other swords, all he had to do was picture them, unfold them, and click his Spirit Root's attribute into place. That was possible because Kyle's sword had already reached a high realm. It allowed for other applications and variations.

Ruin's sword was not like that.

To unfold this sword, he had to use Mind Recasting and enter a state of Complete Unity. Beyond that, he had to seek Unity of Self and Object.

It took far too much focus and exhaustion to swing a sword even once. It did not suit Kyle's talents. To use Ruin's sword, he had to completely align himself with Ruin.

Just like now.

He let go of his previous sword and became conscious of using Ruin's sword.

Kyle stepped forward with a breath.

There was no explosive acceleration. It was an utterly natural step.

Along with it, he swung his sword.

From above to below.

Serga saw that sword.

“...!”

For the first time, Serga's eyes shook violently.

Every sword Kyle had swung before had possessed something. Lamika's sword had a snake. Tebar's sword had an explosion. The cursed blade had killing intent. The sword Kyle had used afterward carried a maturity that did not suit a boy, along with countless variations and possibilities.

But the sword Kyle swung now contained nothing.

No variation. No irregularity. No technique. No excess. Nothing at all.

It was simply one downward cut from above. A straight line with no wavering. It was so simple that even a child holding a sword for the first time seemed as though they could copy it.

That sword resembled the Sword Church Master's sword Serga had watched for so long.

The truth of the sword lay within that trajectory.

Yet even the Sword Church Master's sword, which Serga had considered flawless, seemed incomplete before that straight line.

'It is not that there is... nothing there. That is a sword. Just... a sword.'

Serga's body trembled.

Even when people saw the same thing, their impressions differed according to their insight. Serga felt how absolute and perfect that sword was. He could hold such an impression, but he did not dare claim to understand it.

That sword was not attacking Serga. It had only cut through empty air.

What would happen if he faced it?

Blocking it would be easy. It was only a sword descending from above. Yet he felt that he must not block it. He did not want to introduce an impurity into that perfect straight line.

Immediately after the downward cut, Kyle swung his sword again.

This time, from below to above.

A slanted diagonal.

After reaching the end, he paused for one breath, then slowly lowered the sword. It was not a cut, but a transition between movements. Kyle stepped forward and thrust.

Whenever the path of the sword was drawn, space shook.

Countless unseen things were being cut apart by that sword. Mana existed everywhere in the world. Yet it was not merely mana being cut.

It felt as though the world itself was being caught in the sword path, sliced open, and pierced through.

“That... sword?”

Serga asked hesitantly.

Its extreme simplicity resembled the Sword Church Master's sword, but it had not been learned from the Sword Church Master. The thought was irreverent, but he could not help it.

The trajectories drawn by that sword were more perfect than the five hundred years of swordsmanship the Sword Church Master had devoted her life to.

“It is the Founding Ancestor's sword.”

Kyle answered after calming his ragged breathing.

He had only swung his sword a few times, yet the strength drained from his entire body. He had not even infused it with intent. He had used Mind Recasting, entered Complete Unity, and sought Unity of Self and Object. He had gone beyond unity of body and sword, beyond unity of mind and sword, joining his very spirit with the sword as he wielded it.

Intent began from the heart and imposed one's existence upon the world.

Ruin's sword was the same.

Every path of that sword cut through the world.

“It is not a sword passed down through the family. It is a sword Fenris remembers.”

Kyle could not say that he had been cut down and killed by that sword in his previous life, so he added that explanation instead. It was not a lie. Fenris truly remembered the sword Ruin Alastor had reached just before his death.

“My Spirit Affinity is quite good. Do you see that one over there? She is a Spirit too.”

Jor, whom Kyle had sent outside while repeatedly using True Declaration earlier, was coiled up behind them. Pointed out by Kyle, Jor lifted her head and gave a small bow.

“She is called Jormungandr.”

“That snake was a Spirit?”

Serga looked surprised.

“I thought she was the young master's pet monster, or perhaps a new weapon of the Crow Company.”

“She is a Spirit despite how she looks. Anyway, my Spirit Affinity is exceptional enough that I can speak with the Spirits dwelling in old weapons. Thanks to that, I had the chance to witness the Founding Ancestor's sword.”

“Ah...”

Serga slowly nodded as he calmed his shock.

“I see. Then the sword you wielded just now was the Sword Saint's sword. Now that you say so, I understand.”

“What did you feel from that sword?”

“Flawlessness.”

Serga glanced at the sword in his hand and gave a bitter smile.

“It was a sword that made my own feel terribly shabby. It made me feel despair... and jealousy as well. So much that it even made me doubt myself.”

After saying that, Serga fell silent for a moment.

“I understand why you have been unable to unfold Sublimation. There is a sword far too perfect within your inner image. The knowledge of that sword is keeping you from establishing your world, like a curse of knowledge.”

“I just realized that too.”

Kyle nodded slowly.

“I can make any other sword my own, but I cannot do that with the Founding Ancestor's sword. If I could fight him directly, I feel like I could force out some kind of clue. But the Founding Ancestor has already achieved Ascension, so that is impossible. The more I do it, the more it feels as though my sword is being blocked by his, or devoured by it...”

Serga paused at Kyle's muttered words and furrowed brow. After hesitating briefly, he spoke.

“Are you not afraid of despair?”

“Pardon?”

“One method is to simply watch, contemplate, and revere it. Do you not already possess a flawless and unchanging answer? If you faced it directly, you would only come to realize how shabby your own sword is.”

“If I fight and lose, it will feel fucking awful once and be over. But if I never fight and only revere it, won't I be trapped by an inferiority complex for the rest of my life?”

“...”

“Ah. It probably won't feel awful just once. It'll feel awful every time I lose... Still, if I crash into it and get shattered, then the next time I crash into it, I won't shatter as badly as the first time. If I keep at it, I might even win someday.”

Kyle grumbled as he sheathed Fenris and put Baal into his Out-of-Place Artifact.

“The Founding Ancestor isn't in this world anymore, so I should keep fighting him, even if only in my imagination.”

“You intend to walk... a difficult path.”

Serga murmured.

“Isn't the reason you cannot unfold Sublimation because you recognize the greatness of the Sword Saint's sword within your heart? Then you should revere and follow that great sword. If you admire it and establish your inner image anew, you will surely be able to unfold Sublimation.”

“Why should I do that?”

Kyle asked with a tilt of his head.

“What matters to me is not unfolding Sublimation. It is holding a sword that satisfies me. The reason I cannot unfold Sublimation now is because my current sword is lacking compared to the Founding Ancestor's sword engraved in my heart.”

“...”

“Honestly, even I cannot yet imagine my sword surpassing the Founding Ancestor's. That does not mean I want to admire it. Well... I do not think I necessarily have to surpass the Founding Ancestor's sword to unfold Sublimation.”

What Kyle had felt as he reflected on his sword through the spar with Serga was that he could not connect Ruin's sword to his own.

That was why he could not establish his world.

'If I can connect Ruin's sword to mine.'

It did not need to be stronger or more perfect than Ruin's sword right away. Just as he had devoured other swordsmen's swords and made them his own, he could do the same with Ruin's sword.

If he connected sword to sword, he could reach Sublimation.

Kyle was certain of it.

“...”

Serga could not answer. He only stared at Kyle.

He could not understand Kyle's heart.

There were absolutes in the world that could never be overcome. Until today, before he saw the Sword Saint's sword, Serga's absolute had been the Sword Church Master's sword.

He had admired it and wished to resemble it. He had never dared think of surpassing it. To Serga, simply being able to observe and contemplate the Sword Church Master's unkind yet absolute sword from up close had been a source of happiness.

“I see.”

Serga nodded with a bitter smile.

“I think I understand why the Sword Church Master changed after meeting you, young master.”

That boy neither despaired nor admired even when faced with the Sword Church Master's sword. Before an absolute beyond his power to do anything about, he did not bend his knee. Instead, he greedily tried to devour it and make it his own sword.

Serga stared at Kyle's face.

His golden eyes were sparkling. Though he was seeing and contemplating a sword better than his own, there was no despair or self-doubt in them. The boy's eyes held only excitement and joy, like someone seeing a new toy or a magnificent feast.

'So utterly pure... and enviable.'

It had been the same during their exchange just moments ago. Throughout every clash, the boy's eyes had shone brightly. That sharp blade, which would spill blood from the slightest brush, was the most entertaining toy in the world to him.

“Thank you.”

Kyle suddenly bowed deeply.

“Thanks to you, Sir Serga, I was able to reflect on my sword and learn what the problem was.”

“You give me too much credit. I did nothing. You came to that realization on your own, young master.”

“I would not have realized it this quickly on my own.”

Because he had seen Serga as a model, he had been able to identify the problem quickly. This realization would not let him reach Sublimation immediately, but he had found a clear clue.

“May we have another conversation next time?”

Kyle raised his head and grinned. Serga let out a quiet laugh without realizing it.

“As long as it is not an ambush, I will gladly have a conversation with you whenever you wish.”

“The method of conversation differs depending on the other person.”

Kyle answered, then added in a cautious voice.

“Please keep what you saw earlier to yourself.”

* * *

Kyle was full of youthful vigor, but after fighting two Apostles in succession, his entire body felt heavy. His purple pauldron felt heavy on his shoulder.

'It really doesn't get in the way when I swing a sword.'

Honestly, he had forgotten he was even wearing a pauldron. It was not uncomfortable to move in, but once he consciously noticed it, there was no uglier piece of equipment in existence.

He wanted to rip it off, but he was a guest here, so he felt he should show some respect. Kyle let his heavy shoulders droop and dragged his feet as he returned to Helenas's hut, or more precisely, the place that had once been a hut.

“You're back.”

Perhaps she felt some regret now that she had decided to throw it all away, even though they would demolish everything and build anew. Helenas sat in a dwarf-made chair that perfectly reproduced even the slightest tilt.

“The dwarves are coming tomorrow.”

“You are building a house. Are you even calling in dwarves for that?”

“They need to make the house and furniture you and I want perfectly.”

“Do you know some dwarves?”

“The Sword Church has many swordsmen.”

Craftsmen naturally wanted proof of how remarkable their work was.

“The Third Apostle sent that.”

Helenas raised a finger.

A silver pauldron rested on a desk that had been deliberately made to look old.

“After seeing you fight the Second Apostle and Fourth Apostle, they said you are skilled enough to become an Apostle. Starting today, you are the Eighth Apostle of the Sword Church.”

“...”

He had fought two Apostles in succession in the middle of Sword Grove, so naturally people would have noticed. Still, he had not expected them to make him an Apostle immediately.

“I thought the Sword Church had seven Apostles fixed in place?”

“It does not matter as long as you have the skill.”

“...”

“I like the idea of you becoming an Apostle. In a sense, it makes you more like family to me.”

She said it like that, so he could not openly say he disliked the idea. Kyle let out a deep sigh and glared at the silver pauldron.

The Black Sword of Alastor.

The youngest recipient of the Martial Star Medal in the Empire's history.

And the Eighth Apostle of the Sword Church.

More and more descriptions were being added before the name Kyle Alastor.

Footnotes:

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