WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reincarnation of the Sword Demon

Chapter 72

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Who Are You?

The sword wasn't fun.

Helenas's whisper rode the wind of the Blade Mountain Range and scattered.

Kyle couldn't say a word.

Honestly, he was shocked.

'I did feel it, vaguely.'

He had felt it in Helenas's duel with Julius. There was no emotion in Helenas's sword. No competitive drive to win at all costs, no killing intent to cut her opponent down.

Was it because Helenas was stronger than Julius? No, that wasn't it. Her sword held none of the boredom or weariness a stronger fighter might have. Even when Julius's lightning broke her blade and drove her backward, Helenas didn't tense up.

If there was no emotion at all, that also meant there was no exhilaration. What Kyle had only vaguely sensed in that duel had just become fact through Helenas's whisper.

Helenas found no fun in the sword. Hearing those words come directly from her lips struck Kyle in the chest.

Five hundred years.

She had swung a sword for five hundred years and still said it wasn't fun. Rising cuts, downward cuts, horizontal cuts. She must have tried everything a sword could do, repeated beyond count.

Her sword had once failed to properly cut even empty air, and now it cut lightning. It cut senses, perception, mana, impact. It could cut anything cleanly, yet she still said it wasn't fun.

'Why?'

Kyle stared at Helenas in silence. Helenas looked straight back at him.

'If it wasn't fun, she could've stopped.'

Humans could do that.

Elves could not. Fun and fate were different. Helenas herself had said so.

'Ah.'

In that silence, Kyle understood why Helenas had kept swinging for five hundred years without ever feeling fun.

[Do it anyway. Keep doing it until it becomes fun for you.]

Before he knew it, Kyle squeezed his eyes shut.

No way. She couldn't be that stubborn, that inflexible.

"..."

If she were human, maybe he could think that. But the one in front of him wasn't human. She was an elf.

A race that lived incomparably longer lives than humans.
A race that, once seized by fate, devoted that long life to it.

So Helenas had lived five hundred years swinging a sword. Even though it wasn't fun. No, maybe because it wasn't fun, she couldn't let go of it.

The fate that seized Helenas was Sword Demon Raikal's sword.

Helenas had learned the sword from Raikal.

And Raikal had told her:

That the sword was fun.
That she should keep going until it became fun.

'My fault.'

Kyle opened his eyes. Helenas, sitting across from him, tilted her head as if she couldn't understand the expression on his face.

'I didn't know I'd die like that. And I didn't know you'd live for five hundred years, still swinging a sword without ever finding it fun.'

If he hadn't died to Ruin back then, would anything have changed? At least he would've taught Helenas more about the sword. If she said it wasn't fun, he would've made it fun for her.

So yes, this was Raikal's fault. He said he'd teach her the sword, then died. Irresponsible bastard. Arian's evaluation last time was exactly right. A loser from the previous era. An irresponsible bastard who lived exactly as he pleased, then died chasing only self-satisfaction.

'What kind of fate is that?'

Kyle swallowed the sigh rising in his chest. He wasn't an elf, so he couldn't understand an elf's perspective. What he felt now was entirely human.

'You clung to something joyless for five hundred years, trying until it became fun. That's not fate. That's a curse.'

Kyle steadied himself and spoke.

"Sword Church Master-nim."

So this body could produce a voice like this too. He had only realized it after fifteen years of reincarnation. That's how low and heavy his voice was now.

"You didn't answer what I asked earlier."
"That's true."
"Do you treasure the sword, Sword Church Master-nim?"

Helenas didn't answer immediately. She watched Kyle for a moment, then looked down at the hilt on her knees. At the remains of the sword she'd swung for a hundred years, now reduced to ash with the blade gone.

"I don't treasure it."

Helenas answered calmly.

"I try to treasure it. Long ago, I was told to treasure the sword."
"..."
"At the time, I didn't really understand what that person meant by those words. Now I understand to some extent. I don't know whether my understanding is right."
"How did you understand it?"
"He treated the sword as a tool and the act of swinging it as one and the same. He said he was a genius. He was right. If he held a branch, it became a sword. Even empty-handed, he could still swing a sword."

Helenas's eyes drifted to the past again.

"But I was different. Back then, I needed a sword in my hand. And it had to be one I was familiar with."
"..."
"He could think about the sword and love it without holding one. I couldn't. So he told me to treasure the sword, because I needed it."
"But that's changed now."
"A little. Now, unlike before, I don't need a familiar sword in my hand. A branch is enough. No, even a branch isn't necessary."

Helenas lifted the hilt that had been resting on her knees.

"And even so, I still can't feel that a sword is precious. To treasure it, I have to love it, and I don't love this sword. Even after a hundred years together."
"Was it the same with the swords before this one?"
"The one before this, and the one before that too. I held dozens of swords over five hundred years, but I couldn't love even one."

Crackle! Helenas made no particular movement, yet the hilt turned to ash and scattered into the wind. She lowered the hand that now held nothing and said:

"There is only one sword I ever loved."

Kyle knew what she meant. Right now, Helenas wasn't looking at Fenris. Even when she had come to Gladiheim on impulse, her gaze had rarely stayed on Fenris.

What Helenas was looking at now was the distant past, the fate that had seized her. The sword she loved was not Fenris itself. It was Raikal's sword.

The sword Raikal wielded. Not the object, but the very act of wielding it.

"The sword I loved was beautiful. It killed people, it scattered blood, and still it looked beautiful. Why? I've seen people killed many times. I've done it myself too. But not once did I ever find that beautiful."
"..."
"The only sword I ever found beautiful was the one I loved. Why? I know the reason. That sword, and the one who wielded it, loved the sword and found it fun."

Helenas's whisper was practically a confession leaping across five hundred years, and in this mountain range, the only one who could fully understand it was Kyle.

'You're making this awkward for me.'

His chest felt tight. Kyle swallowed another rising sigh.

"I swung a sword for five hundred years, but I couldn't become like that person. That person's sword was always beautiful, but no matter how I copied it, mine never became beautiful. Now I know why."
"Why?"
"Because that person found the sword fun. That's why that sword was beautiful. No matter how much I swing, if I can't feel fun, it can never become beautiful."

A cold wind blew. That frigid wind felt warmer than Helenas's muttering, which sounded like a lament.

Kyle could only stare at her in silence. It felt as if the weight of five hundred years was pressing down on his chest. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to repeat something joyless for five hundred years. But he could guess it had been a brutally lonely, desolate time.

"Sword Church Master-nim."

Kyle spoke.

"Why did you create the Sword Church?"

Helenas hadn't been alone for those five hundred years. There was the Sword Church, a group that revered Helenas as its master. Even at the Exchange Tournament, what he saw wasn't faith in the sword or doctrine, but faith in Helenas as their leader.

Maybe Helenas had formed the Sword Church to soothe her loneliness.

'Probably not.'

He thought that, but asked just in case.

Helenas quietly looked at Kyle. A short silence passed.

"I didn't create it."
"I know. The Sword Church began with people who followed the Sword Demon. And among them was you, Helenas-nim."

Among them, only Helenas was an elf. Humans mostly died before living a hundred years, but elves were still intact after five hundred.

"By now, all those followers of the Sword Demon are dead except you, Sword Church Master-nim. At some point they became known as the Sword Church, and Sword Church Disciples still exist."
"That's right."
"I understand elves don't do things that don't interest them. Yet you're still the Sword Church Master, and the Sword Church still exists. Are you... interested in the Sword Church?"
"At first, yes. At first, I needed people who knew how to swing a sword."
"What do you mean by needed?"
"Because I couldn't find the fun of the sword by myself."
"..."
"No matter how much I swung, it wasn't fun. And the person who told me about fun had died. So I wanted to ask other people."

Helenas's gaze moved upward. She looked past the ridgeline, toward Gladiheim.

"Even your clan's founding ancestor never spoke about the 'fun' of the sword, no matter how many times I asked. Ruin Alastor answered that to him, the sword was 'proof.'"
"..."
"Others were similar. I've seen countless swords and talked with countless people. But no one held a sword purely because it was fun, because they liked it, because they loved it. They held one to become stronger, to protect, to survive, because of belief. Everyone had different reasons."

Helenas shook her head.

"Sometimes there were people who talked about the fun of the sword. But after seeing my sword, they lost that 'fun.' Some forced themselves to talk about fun, but those were lies."
"Then why... leave the Sword Church as it is?"
"I live a long time. Maybe someone who sees my sword will teach me the fun of the sword before I die."

Hearing it come back to that, Kyle finally let out a sigh.

So this was the truth of the Sword Church. A sword sect serving an elf who had lived for five hundred years as its master. The starting point of that organization, with countless Sword Church Disciples under it, was simply Helenas trying to find an answer to her own question.

That was why Helenas had no interest in running the church. She had hoped, and she hadn't found it. No matter how the apostles managed the sect, Helenas didn't care.

'Pursue the Sword, Be Mad for the Sword, Love the Sword.'

Follow the sword, go mad for the sword, love the sword.

Those were the Sword Church's doctrines, yet the master herself did not know the doctrine.

"You said you wouldn't reclaim Fenris right now."
"Because I'm not ready."
"You said Alastor owns Fenris, so it doesn't matter if I wield Fenris. Because your memories won't disappear."
"They will never disappear."
"You said you came because you were curious about me."
"I did."
"What were you curious about?"
"Because what you did to that child of the Sword Church resembled the person I remember."

At Helenas's answer, Kyle couldn't help but let out a short laugh.

Kyle stepped down from the rock and drew Fenris. Helenas tilted her head, puzzled.

Holding Fenris, Kyle closed his eyes.

It was only a moment, but countless thoughts passed through that brief darkness.

He had drawn his sword.

Why had he drawn it? To swing it. Then how would he swing it, and what would he show?

Showing Sword Demon Raikal's sword would be easy. He only had to recreate the trajectory from five hundred years ago. Even with his Upper Energy Center unopened, he could recreate those trajectories as much as he wanted. Kyle was confident he could reproduce even the smallest habits from five hundred years ago.

Helenas would recognize Raikal's sword instantly.

It was the sword she had remembered for five hundred years. She didn't feel fate because Raikal's sword was strong. She wasn't seized by fate because Raikal had saved her with it.

'My sword is a curse for you.'

Even after surpassing the sword she called fate, Helenas still couldn't find fun in the sword, and still couldn't love it.

'What meaning is there in showing you that sword again?'

Sword Demon Raikal had died five hundred years ago. He challenged Ruin Alastor and died.

What had Raikal thought in that moment?

He had regrets. Too many.

He didn't want it to end with defeat and death. He wanted to fight again. He wanted to win. Train more, get stronger.

The more regret he had, the more longing remained. Even when he sensed defeat, it had been too enjoyable to run. That made him want, all the more, to live and fight again later.

Why did death have to be the end? Why couldn't he savor this joy over and over? If there was a next time... please let there be a next time.

He had felt thirst. Even though he thought he'd lived swinging his sword to his heart's content, at the moment of death it felt like it wasn't enough. He wanted to fight more. Become stronger. Wield the sword better.

Sword.

As deep as his regret, so was his remorse. He felt sorry toward the sword. If only he had done better. If only he had loved it more. If only he had swung it with greater devotion.

If he could hold a sword again.

He did hold one again.

'Recreating the sword of my previous life can't go beyond reviving the past. Is it right to show the past again to you, who lived trapped in that curse for five hundred years?'

Helenas's sword had already surpassed Raikal's. The sword she forged through five hundred years of repetition was stronger than Raikal's. What meaning was there in wielding, like a ghost of the past, what she had already passed through?

'It would comfort you. You'd be glad to see it.'

He had not drawn his sword to comfort her.

'A previous life is a previous life.'

Kyle told himself.

'Raikal died defeated. He loved the sword and found it fun, but he still died. Helenas, I... I'm not satisfied with my previous life. I swung my sword as much as I wanted and lived as I pleased, but it wasn't enough. Times have changed so much.'

Five hundred years was a long time.

'Even if I restore Raikal's sword, I can't surpass Raikal. The proof is that my Upper Energy Center still hasn't opened. I have to surpass my former self.'

He had been given the miracle of reincarnation. A new body, a new name, a new life. If all he did with that miracle was recreate the sword of his previous life, then reincarnation had no meaning.

'Even reborn after death, I'm still self-satisfied.'

He had to surpass Raikal. He had to see what Raikal couldn't see, and reach where Raikal couldn't reach.

Kyle opened his eyes with a smile.

"Helenas."

At her name, Helenas's eyes widened.

"I drew my sword for you and for me."

It was Kyle's voice speaking, the same voice she'd heard several times in today's conversation. Yet strangely, from Kyle's mouth, Helenas heard a voice she missed.

Fenris rose.

A fifteen-year-old body. Mana not yet full. A closed Upper Energy Center. A spirit root that hadn't even existed in his previous life.

On top of the root inherited from Raikal, Kyle had built many new things. The swords he learned in Alastor's Great Archive. The sword he honed while living on the Cultivation Floors. And the sword of Ruin Alastor that Fenris had shown him.

Carrying all of it, Kyle swung Fenris.

He didn't stop at one swing. He swung it over and over. Every time he swung, a smile spread across his lips. Not a forced smile, but one that came naturally.

Swinging the sword was fun. Right now, only wind lay in his trajectory. Even so, it was fun. There was no enemy in front of him to kill, and still it was fun. Clashing against another sword was still the most fun, but even now, it was fun.

This sword he was swinging now would feel newly fun tomorrow. It would still be true a month from now, and a year from now. If someone asked why the sword would still be fun then, he would answer: because it had changed, even if only a little, from what it is now.

Raikal's sword from his previous life was not an answer sheet for Kyle. Kyle still hadn't found the answer to his own sword. Maybe there was no answer to the sword at all.

If there was no answer, that meant it could go anywhere. If it could go anywhere, it was always new. How could that not be fun?

Fenris stopped.

He was slightly out of breath. He hadn't even unleashed dazzling Sword Force, yet it was exhausting. He had maximized his physical ability with the Primordial Chaos Sword Canon and poured his entire mind and strength into Fenris.

Helenas stared at Kyle with dazed eyes. During his demonstration, her expression had shown clear emotion, unlike her usual self.

"I... can't understand."

Helenas spoke hesitantly. It wasn't just her words; her sky-blue eyes were filled with incomprehension.

"You... can use another sword."

Helenas staggered to her feet from the rock.

"You can use a sword that's... sharper, faster, stronger... than what you just showed."

Helenas knew the sword she'd just seen was incomplete, immature. That was exactly why she couldn't understand it. Why was this boy showing an incomplete, immature sword when he knew how to wield a stronger one?

Why had he smiled while swinging that kind of sword?

"Why... did you smile?"

Helenas asked in a trembling voice.

"Because it's fun."

Kyle answered with a smile.

"A strong sword isn't what makes it fun. Recreating a sword I already know isn't fun either."
"..."
"I enjoy what's new. I enjoy learning what I don't know. That's why I like fighting. Because I can clash with new swords, unknown swords."

Helenas couldn't say anything and only looked at Kyle.

"I don't know where this sword will go tomorrow. I don't know how the sword I swung this time will change next time. That's why it's fun."
"You..."

Helenas staggered toward Kyle.

"You... who are you?"
"I'm trying not to remain only someone you already know."

Kyle sheathed Fenris at his waist.

"That wouldn't be good for either of us."
"..."
"Well... that doesn't mean I'm someone completely different from the person you know."

If he denied even that, it would be too cruel to Helenas.

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