WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 153: Longing

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Unlike before, Kyle was less conscious of the fact that he himself was wielding the sword.

Until now, the way Kyle had executed Ruin's sword was through interpretation. The swords he had seen in his previous life, the sword Fenris had shown him. He analyzed them in his head and adapted them to fit himself.

Mind Recasting, Complete Unity, Unity of Self and Object. He had tried to align himself with Ruin, yet the alignment had always been off. The sword Kyle recreated only resembled Ruin's sword. It was not Ruin's sword.

'I have to admit it.'

Kyle thought calmly.

'The sword I interpreted is still far inferior to yours.'

It could only be off. Ruin's sword was complete and absolute. No matter how hard Kyle tried now, he could not wield that sword differently. This sword was an answer far beyond Serga or Helenas, and even if he followed it, Kyle's sword could never become the correct answer.

'At best, it would earn partial credit.'

He felt no self-loathing. There were swords like this in the world. Acceptance began with acknowledging the other side. Before, he had let his petty pride get in the way and refused to imitate Ruin's sword completely.

His conversation with Serga had made him look back at himself. Ruin's sword remained far deeper in Kyle's mind than he had realized. As long as that sword was there, Kyle could not establish a world of his own. Every sword he wanted to wield failed to surpass Ruin's sword engraved in his heart. Struggling to break free from it was itself an act steeped in inferiority, and every sword ended up a degraded version of that complete, absolute sword.

So he had to acknowledge it sincerely.

'Your sword is fucking awful, but it's incredible. Yeah, that's undeniable. It should be, since it's the sword that killed me.'

He cut once from top to bottom. He followed where the sword led. A wolf guided him through a maze that felt endless. The sword he had swung once naturally moved into the next. Kyle did not resist. He entrusted himself to the path.

The swings came naturally. It felt as though someone had borrowed Kyle's body to wield the sword. Honestly, it was not a pleasant feeling. Kyle wanted to be the one wielding the sword, not the sword itself.

Yet how could this sword make his heart race so much? Kyle smiled despite his tangled feelings. A chill ran through him, and goosebumps rose down his spine. This was not a degraded version he had stubbornly interpreted. It was Ruin Alastor's own sword, remembered by Fenris.

The sword path itself was simple. Yet within that simplicity lay an absolute deeper than any sword Kyle had ever seen. The very concept of excess did not exist. No better line, no faster speed, no greater force. There was nothing to add and nothing to take away.

'A completed sword.'

The end a sword could reach. As he wielded such a sword, Kyle finally understood completely. Why he had died to this sword in his previous life. Why he had not even thought to run. Why he had thought it was all right to die.

When faced with a sword like this, one forgot resistance. Being cut was not frightening. Being cut felt natural. If one's body stood where that sword was aimed, one would accept being cut as the right answer.

It was so natural, and yet so beautiful that any swordsman could not help but be captivated by it.

'I understand now.'

As he swung in the way Fenris led him, Kyle compared his own sword with Ruin's sword side by side.

The difference was clear.

Kyle's sword was alive. It changed, accepted, devoured, and evolved. A sword that had kept changing through decades of battlefields, countless brushes with death, and the swallowing of innumerable swords. A sword that had died once, then been reincarnated into a world five hundred years later. A sword that never stopped.

Ruin's sword was complete. It was a sword that no longer needed to change. It had finally reached perfection and remained there forever. Kyle had no choice but to revise the thought he had had yesterday. The image of Ruin's sword in his mind did not continue growing stronger. There was no next for this sword.

'If my sword is one that moves forward, yours has already reached the end.'

Kyle admitted it honestly. He still had no confidence that he could wield a sword better than this one. His sword was alive, evolving, capable of accepting and changing with anything. Even so, at this very moment, Ruin's sword stood above Kyle's.

'Your sword is far better than mine.'

There was no despair in that admission. Some would fear acknowledging it, feeling jealousy and doubt at how small they seemed by comparison. Kyle did not.

If anything, he was happy.

'Thank you.'

There was a sword in this world so incredible and perfect. A sword that shattered the arrogance of thinking, I'm good enough, into pieces. Just how much of oneself had to be ground into the sword to reach that point? Even that vague question was enjoyable.

'My sword is still far from the end.'

Simply surrendering himself and swinging this sword was enjoyable. If he could wield it entirely by his own will, how enjoyable would that be? Kyle smiled as he swung his sword. Despair only came when one sat down and gave up. Kyle would neither sit down nor stop. He acknowledged that it was fucking awful but incredible, then moved forward after it. He had no reason to despair. For Kyle, today's acknowledgment was not the end, but the beginning.

'Seeing this sword makes me wonder what kind of person you were.'

Kyle raised Fenris once more.

He had barely spoken with Ruin Alastor. From what he had heard, Ruin had enjoyed that fight as much as Kyle had. Yet during the actual battle, the man had never shown the slightest smile.

'Did you enjoy wielding a sword?'

He could not guess, because they had barely spoken and Kyle had never even seen him smile. Still, there was one thing he could tell.

Ruin never stopped wielding his sword. Had he wished for a peaceful world? Kyle did not know what his true intentions had been, but as a result, the world had become peaceful through Ruin's sword. Every imperial heir involved in the succession struggle had died but one. The Demihuman alliance born in the west had been too afraid of Ruin's sword to advance into imperial territory. Even the Demon Tribe and the Demon King who crossed onto the continent had made peace through treaty, blocked by Ruin's sword.

'Not for a single moment did you stop wielding your sword.'

Kyle did not know whether that life had been fierce, but wielding this sword made one thing clear. Ruin's sword now was more perfect than the sword that had killed the Sword Demon. More beautiful than the sword that had made the Sword Demon accept even death. The sword Ruin had reached just before Ascension, the sword Kyle wielded now, was more beautiful.

'You...'

Kyle took a long step forward. Fenris led him onward. Amid the endless, boundless paths that a sword could trace, someone's figure flickered beyond that vast maze.

Ruin Alastor, as remembered by Fenris. Kyle saw the man still swinging his sword even with Ascension before him. He could not see Ruin's expression. What he was seeing now was only a memory of the sword left within Fenris.

Still, that sword did not feel indifferent. It felt desperate, arduous, even hollow.

'And heavy.'

Ruin's sword carried far too many things. Because Ruin himself had chosen to carry them. Perhaps the sword had not been something enjoyable to him. That noble swordsman had fulfilled the duty that came with the power he had been born with.

He had cut down the imperial princes because that was the only way to end the Empire's succession struggle. He had accepted the Empire's Grand Duke position because that was the only way the continent could regain stability. He had kept the Demihuman alliance from setting foot in imperial territory and stood in the Demon King's way because that was the only way to stop the war.

Even then, he did not stop. He accepted the Sword Tower, which touched upon the ominous Outside, as a gift from the Dragon Queen, and entrusted his descendants by blood with the duty to carry it on for generations. Then Ruin himself Ascended.

'You didn't even use Baal to kill yourself.'

Demon King Astaros from five hundred years ago had said it.

Ruin had gained an absurd power and drawn too much attention because of it. He had tried to use that power for his own people and the world into which he had been born. Without refusing the Dragon Queen's request, he had kept wielding his sword at the end of the world. If he died, he was fated to be pulled from the cycle of reincarnation and swallowed by a sky god. If he Ascended, he was fated to be swallowed by an outer god on the way.

Yet Ruin changed even that fate. He succeeded in Ascension no matter what, and changed humankind as a species. Humans in the present world possessed Spirit Roots because Ruin had Ascended.

'In life and after Ascension, you fulfilled your duty.'

They said what Ruin remembered to the very end was his fight with the Sword Demon. A battle where they had competed with swords in pure earnestness, without responsibility or proof hanging over them.

'You...'

Kyle stepped forward once more. Ruin's figure still seemed distant. Yet the closer he came, the more vividly he felt that sword, and the more deeply he realized how shabby his own sword was now.

'You were lonely.'

A desperate, arduous, hollow, heavy sword. A sword that alone reached the summit, with no one able to follow it and no one daring to sincerely hope to surpass it.

'Are you beyond this sky, beyond Ascension?'

If I reach your sword and can carry on what comes after your sword, could I meet you again?

Kyle stopped his sword. Fenris no longer led him. The sword path before his eyes faded away and vanished.

"Whoo..."

He did not know how long or how many times he had swung his sword. Until that moment, Kyle had been Kyle, yet not Kyle. He had only been led by Fenris, recreating Ruin. In one sense, it had been Unity of Self and Object, but since Kyle was not the one at its center, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

'Even after swinging this much, it barely feels familiar in my hands.'

The hand he glanced down at was trembling. He had definitely been swinging it wildly just moments ago, yet that sword path only felt faint now. Swish. He swung his sword once, but compared to the sword from before, it only seemed crude.

'This is seriously fucking awful. How much do I have to swing before it becomes mine?'

When he tried to contain Ruin's sword within his own, the sword path became crude. When he tried to force his own sword into Ruin's, the flow of the sword broke apart. Did he have no choice but to keep swinging however he could and forcibly engrave it into his body?

As he was thinking that,

he felt far too many eyes on him and raised his head. Every Apostle of the Sword Church was standing before Kyle.

"..."

Kyle blinked blankly. Then he felt a gaze right beside him and flinched as he looked to the side. Helenas was staring intently at Kyle, sword in hand.

"That sword."

Helenas spoke.

It was not the first time she had seen it. When they had been trapped in Galera's darkness, Kyle had deliberately wielded Ruin's sword, and he had wielded it several times during their journey as well.

"That is Ruin's sword."

But the sword she had seen until now and this sword were clearly different. This was not an imitation filtered through interpretation, but exactly the same sword. Helenas's eyes shone as she stroked her sword hilt.

"With that sword, you might be able to defeat me now."

"I can't."

Kyle sheathed Fenris and held up his trembling hand.

"Just now, what was it? I guess you could say I was possessed or something. That's about it."

"But you can wield it."

Even without talent for the sword, after wielding one for five hundred years, a person could sense it instinctively. This was not merely a sword for solitary training, one that assumed no opponent. If they fought, Kyle could slaughter an opponent with that sword as much as he pleased.

"I said it wrong. I won't."

Kyle clenched his trembling hand into a fist.

"Maybe against someone else, but I will never use that sword against you, Church Master."

"Why? Because you don't want to defeat me?"

"Because this is not my sword."

Kyle looked Helenas straight in the eye as he answered.

"I have to defeat you with my sword. Only then will it mean something."

If he had to use Ruin's sword in a fight against someone other than Helenas, Kyle would do so, even if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Refusing to use it out of pride when he needed to would only get him killed for nothing.

But he could not do that with Helenas. Her defeat would only have meaning if he achieved it with Kyle's sword, not Ruin's.

"Hah."

Among the Apostles staring blankly at Kyle, Tebar let out a laugh and stepped forward. Drawing the greatsword from his back, he whispered.

"You can't use it against the Church Master, but you can use it against me, right?"

It was not only Tebar. The eyes of the Apostles looking at Kyle were writhing with a swordsman's longing. The sword they had just seen had captivated them that deeply. They wanted to fight it. They wanted to win. They wanted to kill. If they could break that sword, if they could do it...

'An intolerable sword.'

It was like a swordsman's instinct. It was too perfect to accept. If they acknowledged it, the swords they had wielded until now would seem shabby. So they wanted to deny it even by killing it. They had to, if they did not want to despair before the sword.

'It is different from the Church Master's sword.'

Obion swallowed without realizing it. Helenas's sword left only the result, without the process. Each swordsman could fill in that nonexistent process for themselves. But the sword they had just seen was absolute itself, with no room for interpretation. That was why it felt so overwhelming, made swordsmen feel small, and gave rise to despair.

What would remain after that despair?

'Faith. What an utterly mythical sword...'

Even if that sword was not completely the boy's own, that boy was connected to myth at the young age of sixteen. Obion remembered the conversation they had shared yesterday. It had ended like a pointless joke, but he remembered what had been said along the way.

If that boy really defeated the Church Master someday, it would mean he had made that mythical sword entirely his own. Without any complicated process, the boy would become the idol of every Sword Church member. No, not only the Sword Church members. Everyone who held a sword, whether they belonged to the Sword Church or not, would worship that boy as the incarnation of the sword.

It was a dreamlike, intoxicating thought, but also a dangerous one. Would the world, would the Empire, tolerate such a sword?

'No... what need would there be for the Empire's tolerance? The moment myth settles within the young master, the Empire will have to watch the young master's mood instead.'

Just as it had done for Ruin Alastor in the distant past.

"You're welcome to challenge me."

Kyle smirked.

"But if you want to make me wield a sword that isn't mine, you'll have to force me into it. Hmm, based on what I saw yesterday, I don't think you're capable of doing that..."

"You bastard, you ran away because you got scared...!"

"Come on, I did run away, but that was because you cheated. Why should I fight you when you were about to use Sublimation, something I don't even know how to use? I'd be an idiot to fight you."

"You were the one who challenged me first!"

"So what? Anyway, I can't use Sublimation, so if you use it, Tebar-nim, I won't fight you."

"Heh heh heh, if I use Sublimation, you will have no choice but to use that sword from earlier..."

"Sounds like you're not confident you can make me use that sword without Sublimation?"

Tebar's face twisted at the easy retort. A fight was ultimately about winning, so there was no need to accommodate an opponent who could not use Sublimation. Tebar's nature was to seize every advantage and crush his opponent.

Yet the sword he had seen earlier kept lingering in his mind. More than winning the fight, a longing to have a Sword Talk was writhing within him, and it had even pricked his pride.

"...Fine. Without using Sublimation, I will make you use that sword...!"

In the end, Tebar had no choice but to say something unlike himself. He knew this was all going exactly as Kyle intended. If they competed only with swords without using Sublimation, the swords Tebar had wielded throughout his life would gradually be devoured by Kyle.

Even knowing that, he could not suppress the surging longing within him. Tebar was not the only one. Every Apostle longed to exchange swords with Kyle, and wanted to draw out the sword he did not intend to show in battle.

"...To think you would stir even the blood of this old man."

Obion smiled bitterly and raised his head.

"Still, let us postpone the Sword Talk for a little while."

Something was flying toward Sword Grove from far away.

"A dwarf has arrived."

Kyle had wondered what was flying toward them.

It was a dragon made of metal.

Footnotes:

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