WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 162: A Remarkable Sword

──────

"I saw the Founding Ancestor's sword."

At first, no one seemed to understand what those words meant.

The Founding Ancestor.

The Sword Saint, Ruin Alastor. The continent's hero who had ended the Dark Age five hundred years ago and held back the alliance of Demihumans, the orcs, and even the Demon King. The beginning of the family, a mythical figure who had achieved Ascension four hundred years ago.

"What... did you just say?"

Karthan broke the stunned silence. The man who always wore a gentle smile had widened his eyes, his voice trembling.

"I said I saw the Founding Ancestor's sword."

Kyle repeated himself calmly. The Sword Hall stirred.

"The Founding Ancestor's sword..."

"What does that even...?"

"How could he have seen the sword of someone who achieved Ascension four hundred years ago?"

The relatives' murmurs spread like waves. In Alastor, the Founding Ancestor's sword was a myth in itself. The Sword Tower's Great Archive held cultivation techniques and sword manuals from all over the world, and every Family Head had established their own sword and left it to later generations.

Yet there was no sword manual for the Founding Ancestor's sword.

Records were all that existed, and even those were vague.

[A remarkable sword.]

That was all the descriptions of the Founding Ancestor's sword ever repeated. The second Family Head, who had seen his father's sword more closely and more often than anyone, devoted his entire life to recreating it, yet failed in the end.

[Human life is too short, and humans are too weak, to pursue my father's sword.]

Those were the grief-stricken words the second Family Head left before his life ran out. He left behind a sword manual of his own, but after the second generation, no one continued trying to recreate the Founding Ancestor's sword.

The entire system of martial arts had changed once humans developed the organs known as Spirit Roots and Circuits.

"Kyle."

Julius spoke. The commotion in the Sword Hall stopped at once. The pressure pouring from him weighed down the air as he stared at Kyle with wide eyes.

There was no anger in those eyes at the audacity of mentioning the Founding Ancestor's sword.

Only longing.

Julius had devoted his whole life to the sword. He was an Alastor pureblood, and the Family Head seated higher than anyone else.

Just as Ruin Alastor was a myth to every swordsman in the world, he was one to Julius as well. To see that sword, which had left behind only the vague record of being remarkable, even once with his own eyes.

That had been Julius's long-held wish as a swordsman.

"Do you understand what those words mean when you say them?"

Julius asked in a trembling voice, and Kyle slowly nodded.

"Yes, I do."

"The Founding Ancestor... achieved Ascension four hundred years ago. His sword no longer exists in this world. Nothing remains in the Sword Tower beyond vague mentions, and attempts to interpret his sword were abandoned long ago."

Julius rose from his throne.

"And yet you say you saw the Founding Ancestor's sword? How could that possibly be?"

Kyle closed his eyes for a moment.

Fenris. The sword Ruin had held until the very end. The sword engraved with the blade Ruin had reached and wielded just before Ascension. And the sword that, in his previous life, had cut down Raikal.

Two memories were being woven into one within Kyle's world.

He could not say that he had died to that sword in his previous life. Kyle placed a hand on Fenris at his waist and spoke.

"Fenris showed it to me."

Kyle opened his eyes.

"It was the sword the Founding Ancestor held until the end. The Dokkaebi dwelling within Fenris remembered the moment just before the Founding Ancestor achieved Ascension, when his sword was at its most perfect. Through it, I was able to witness the Founding Ancestor's sword."

The Sword Hall stirred again.

Fenris. The sword of the Sword Demon and the Sword Saint. That sword remembered the Founding Ancestor's blade. And it had shown that sword to Kyle, the son of Arian, a Spirit Artist, who possessed Spirit Affinity surpassing even his mother's.

At the same time, Kyle possessed sword talent great enough for people to call him the Founding Ancestor's reincarnation. None of the relatives denied that anymore. In Alastor, no, on the entire continent, there was likely no one with greater sword talent than Kyle.

"It feels like fate."

Katarina muttered without realizing it. The flow of events was too smooth to dismiss as coincidence.

"Fenris, displayed in the Sword Hall, remembers the Founding Ancestor's sword. You entered the Sword Tower for the first time at five and had the rare Spirit Affinity needed to sense a Dokkaebi. And you possess sword talent comparable to the Founding Ancestor's... If this is not fate, what is?"

A chain of coincidences. Calling it fate would not have been an exaggeration.

At Katarina's murmur, Karthan's eyes filled with joy. Alastor was already called the continent's greatest Martial family, but if Kyle became Family Head one day, the name Alastor would surely become even greater.

"Seeing something and gaining something are different."

Julius had steadied himself before speaking. Leaving the throne, he walked to the center of the Sword Hall. The Thunder Emperor and his grandson faced each other.

"I understand your claim that Fenris showed you the Founding Ancestor's sword. But when you say you saw it, did you only witness something vague? Or did you..."

"I wielded it."

Kyle answered.

"Because I'm a genius."

He added with a touch of cheekiness.

"I wielded the sword Fenris showed me with my own hand. It is not fully mine yet. It is closer to imitation. But I have etched into myself what kind of sword it is, and where that sword is headed."

"Hah..."

A hollow laugh escaped Julius. He knew well how bold his young grandson was, and that was why he found him especially endearing. Yet claiming to have wielded and etched the Founding Ancestor's sword into himself was beyond boldness. It sounded arrogant.

Still, the cheeky boy answered without the slightest hesitation.

"You may be shameless, but you are not one to tell empty lies."

Julius murmured.

"And you are a genius. Your talent far surpasses mine. Among all the Alastor purebloods in history, the only ancestor who could compare to you in talent was likely the Founding Ancestor himself."

The family's wish, carried on since Alastor's beginning, now rested within Kyle. Julius composed his expression and clenched his fist tightly.

"Then can you prove it?"

It was a natural question. Anyone could speak. Alastor was a Martial family, and in a Martial family, the weight of words was measured by strength.

I saw the Founding Ancestor's sword. I wielded it.

There was only one way to determine whether those words were truth or empty boasting.

Every gaze in the Sword Hall gathered on Kyle. He grinned at those stares.

"Family Head."

Kyle spoke.

"I do not know how to prove something with words alone. And you do not want proof with words alone from me either."

Julius's lips twitched. From the moment he heard that Kyle had seen the Founding Ancestor's sword, there had been only fierce longing in his eyes.

Kyle recognized that longing.

The Sword Church and Alastor. They were groups with different names and different members, but their essence was the same.

"I will prove it with a sword."

Kyle rested his hand on Fenris.

"Will you join me in that proof, Family Head?"

"Ha... Hahaha!"

Julius burst into laughter. He happily nodded and placed a hand on Kyle's shoulder.

"Of course I will."

Julius's golden eyes flashed. After patting Kyle's shoulder several times, he turned around. Kyle turned as well.

Grandfather and grandson began walking away from each other with their backs turned. The relatives in the Sword Hall swallowed hard and stepped back.

Arian quickly picked up Kaya, while Aslan stood before them. Katarina stood guard over Gerhard, who was weak in martial strength. Barkas stood beside Bruno, and Dante beside Vivian. Karthan moved to stand by his two sons. Roel and Seros retreated a little farther.

They had to see this clearly.

Every swordsman there thought the same thing.

Only Kaya cocked her head and blinked.

"Are Grandpa and Big Brother going to fight?"

"Family does not fight."

Kyle winked at his little sister, who was staring at him.

"This is just... hmm, a conversation with Grandfather. You could call it play."

"Kaya wants to play with Grandpa too."

"You can play with him later, if Grandfather stays healthy."

Julius laughed at that. For a moment, he returned from being Alastor's Family Head to being a grandfather.

"I will stay healthy until Kaya can wield a sword."

After putting plenty of distance between them, grandfather and grandson stopped. Neither moved first. They turned at the same time.

Kyle did not draw Fenris immediately. He stared at Julius.

There was no sword at Julius's waist.

"You are not planning to join me barehanded, are you? Even if you are my grandfather, that would be too much."

"I am not that arrogant."

Julius chuckled and held out one hand.

Crackle.

Violet lightning energy surged and condensed. Soon, the elongated lightning energy took the shape of a sword.

When Helenas had visited Gladiheim in the past, it was that sword which had broken hers. Now it rested in Julius's hand.

"I have played with Grandfather using swords many times, but this is the first time you have held a real sword."

"I can no longer play with you using wooden swords."

Julius smiled.

"And it can no longer be called play."

Kyle froze at that answer. After a brief silence, he asked.

"Does that mean we can have a conversation?"

"Did you not tell Kaya that you were having a conversation with me?"

The lightning energy surrounding the sword subsided. It was an extraordinary sword at a glance. Kyle felt his mouth go dry.

"Is it your beloved sword?"

"I have held it since before I became Family Head. It has grown with me as I fed it my mana every day through lightning ore."

"If you are that attached to it, it must have a name."

"It is called Thunder Roc."

"Ah."

Kyle let out a quiet laugh.

"My naming sense and Grandfather's are pretty much the same."

Thunder Emperor, Black Sword, Thunder Roc, Iron Dragon. They were all much the same.

Julius gave a hearty laugh and raised Thunder Roc before him.

"I will say this first."

Julius spoke.

"I am not trying to test your sword. In truth, I do not simply want to see it either. That would not be enough."

Julius's voice was low and calm. The laughter had left his golden eyes, leaving only the longing of a swordsman who had pursued the sword all his life.

"So, as you said... have a conversation with me."

Kyle gave a faint smile.

Sword Talk. A conversation shared through swords, not a contest or a matter of superiority.

Julius was asking for one.

That was why Kyle felt a little bitter.

"I want to have a conversation, but..."

He drew Fenris.

"This sword will not answer the conversation Grandfather wishes for."

Kyle closed his eyes once.

Ruin's sword was still difficult for him. He could not wield it freely like his other swords. To bring out this sword, he needed his own preparation.

Mind Recasting.

He reshaped the frame of his mind. The sword most deeply etched into Kyle's mental image rose forth.

Complete Unity.

He joined himself to that imagined sword.

Unity of Self and Object.

Forgetting even himself, he became one with the sword.

Through that, Kyle was Kyle, yet he was no longer Kyle.

His closed eyes opened.

At that moment, Julius moved.

Crackle.

Lightning energy rose with a low sound. Julius had already reached Kyle's side and brought Thunder Roc down.

Kyle's sword moved.

Julius had vanished, closed in, and swung Thunder Roc. Every advantage in the opening belonged to Julius. Kyle's response had clearly begun late.

Yet Fenris moved exactly where it had to.

The best and the optimal. A truth without a single unnecessary movement, the truth of what a sword needed to do.

Against that, taking the initiative had no meaning.

The response overcame the initiative.

"...!"

Julius's eyes widened.

Thunder Roc had not been deflected. It had not been pushed aside. Fenris had already arrived at the place where Thunder Roc would fall.

No, even already was not accurate.

Kyle's response had clearly begun later. Yet at the moment the swords collided, Fenris being there had become the only natural result.

As if it had been decided from the start.

'It resembles the Sword Church Master's sword, but...'

Julius withdrew Thunder Roc and took half a step back. He did not need to retreat, yet he did.

The body that had held a sword all his life understood before his mind did.

'It is far more precise than hers. No... no, it is simpler. Yes, it should be that way.'

No matter how fast, ornate, or difficult a sword was, once all of it was stripped apart, it was only a sequence of cuts and thrusts.

The completeness of a sword was decided by how well one performed those cuts and thrusts.

That sword was the one answer to the question of how a sword should move. Julius had spent his entire life narrowing the margin of error. That margin did not exist in this sword.

"Hah."

A quiet laugh escaped Julius. There was no frustration in it.

Only joy.

The sword he had longed for all his life was right before him.

"Good."

Julius adjusted his grip on Thunder Roc.

"I will ask once more."

Crackle!

Lightning energy burst forth. Eight bolts of lightning split apart and rushed at Kyle.

Their trajectories were difficult to follow with the eye.

Fenris moved.

Once, from top to bottom.

Rip!

All eight bolts of lightning were swept away by that single cut.

"...!"

The Sword Hall froze.

Dante's mouth fell open. Barkas doubted his own eyes. Katarina forgot to breathe. Karthan's wide eyes trembled faintly.

What they had just seen was not speed meeting speed. It was not eight responses meeting eight changes.

A single cut passed through every point the eight bolts of lightning would reach.

A sword that did not chase change.

A sword that cut the root of every change.

The swordsmen there saw it from their own levels, and each shuddered at its depth.

'Ah...'

Naturally, Julius saw the deepest and shuddered the most.

With that counter, he understood clearly how the Founding Ancestor's sword differed from the Sword Church Master's.

The Sword Church Master's sword was forceful. It simply reached the result she believed should be natural.

But the Founding Ancestor's sword was not forceful.

If the Sword Church Master's sword was the inevitability she believed in, this sword was an absolutely correct truth.

This sword was the flawless answer.

Unless one could deny that answer, any sword would only be denied by it.

"Once more."

Thunder Roc condensed lightning energy.

The first sword had been fast. The second had been ornate. The third carried overwhelming power.

Rumble!

Thunder roared through the Sword Hall.

Aslan covered Kaya's ears and swallowed hard. Kyle had said family did not fight, yet that sword, no matter how he looked at it, was not a sword one would direct at family.

Aslan imagined facing it himself, but he could not picture any ending other than death.

He did not step in to stop them.

He trusted Julius as much as he trusted Kyle.

That sword, carrying such overwhelming power, would not harm Kyle in the end. There was no killing intent or hostility between grandfather and grandson.

They were only having a joyful, sincere conversation.

Crash!

A massive bolt of lightning struck down.

Kyle raised Fenris to meet it.

Crackle, crackle!

The lightning was ripped into fragments and scattered. The thunder fell silent, leaving only Thunder Roc.

"..."

Julius felt it again through this conversation.

A swordsman inevitably left themselves within their sword.

The swordsman who had wielded this terribly flawless, complete, and perfect sword must have pursued flawlessness, completion, and perfection his entire life before finally reaching them.

Just as he had made no compromise in the sword, he must have made no compromise with himself. He must have forced and etched upon himself nothing but completion, perfection, and flawlessness.

He must have wielded that sword only for the world.

Countless people must have praised that radiance, but to shine brighter than anyone else, he must have burned himself in the darkness.

Never giving up. Never stopping.

Continuing toward the end, until he became the end itself.

"This sword..."

Julius sighed and lowered Thunder Roc.

"It stands completely alone. Nothing exists but itself..."

From the moment it reached the pinnacle. No, from the moment he first took up a sword.

No one could have followed this sword. No one could have answered it.

The whole world revered this sword, yet no one stood beside it.

A sword that asked questions but received no answer. A sword completed alone and stopped alone.

In this conversation, Julius asked and received answers, but that sword asked Julius nothing.

No, it had asked, yet Julius could not hear what its question was.

"A remarkable sword..."

Julius murmured.

The most common description of the Founding Ancestor's sword. Many ancestors who revered the Founding Ancestor had despaired before that brief phrase.

Why was that all there was? The second Family Head had seen the Founding Ancestor's sword more closely than anyone. Why had he left behind nothing but this one brief phrase?

Only now did Julius understand.

It could not be left behind.

A sword manual was a record of a process. Step this way, swing this way, let the blade flow this way.

But that sword spoke only of the natural foundations and truths that a sword should follow.

How could that be left behind as a sword manual?

Even someone who had seen it from the closest distance could only feel and record the awe of a human standing before a sword.

[Human life is too short, and humans are too weak, to pursue my father's sword.]

Julius had thought those painful final words were a lament over talent.

Only now, facing the Founding Ancestor's sword directly, did he understand their true weight.

They were not a lament.

They were a wail of grief from a son who had pursued his father's back his whole life, yet could not even see where that back was or where his father's gaze was headed.

"There is no meaning in going further."

Julius smiled bitterly and sheathed his sword.

"I think so too."

Kyle answered, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"I cannot wield anything other than this."

It was still a fucking maddening sword.

Footnotes:

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried