WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Mordor

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◈ Unbound Magic Swordsman ◈

Chapter 26: Reward

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The next morning.

The main force that had burned the Beastfolk nest returned to Kaldia.

They emerged from the dark primeval forest, crossed the fields, and finally saw the dull ash-gray city walls. By then, the area before the gates was already covered by a crowd gathered like a bank of clouds.

Word of the magical beast subjugation seemed to have spread ahead of them through messengers.

When the heavy gates opened and the knights in deep blue armor appeared, the crowd's restrained cheers burst forth.

For Kaldia's residents, who had been fretting over grim rumors of war and the threat of magical beasts, the news that the Beastfolk's main stronghold had been wiped out was like a great breath of oxygen.

Even if it was only a temporary anesthetic.

The knights cut through the cheers, crossed the central square, and headed for the lord's residence.

Lucian turned toward the Mercenary Guild, leaving the commotion behind, but Kairon's messenger approached from behind and blocked his way.

"Deputy Commander Kairon has summoned you to the residence, Lucian. He said there is separate business to discuss alongside the settlement of your reward."

Separate business.

Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be bad news.

Lucian silently followed the messenger.

The lord's residence.

He was led not to a bleak strategy room, but to a reception room furnished with a heavy mahogany table and luxurious carpets.

Steaming black tea and toasted bread sat on the table.

Kairon had thrown off his bloodstained armor and sat in a comfortable shirt.

There was not a trace of battlefield dust or fatigue on him.

The sight of the monster who had split a High Warden-class Boss in two with a single strike drinking tea without a wound on him starkly showed the difference in their realms.

"Have a seat."

Lucian sat across from him.

Kairon set down his teacup and got to the point.

"Let's settle your reward."

He pushed a sealed document across the table.

"Twenty gold coins as the base payment for participating in the joint operation."

It matched the amount Graham, the Mercenary Guildmaster, had offered.

"However, there is more I intend to give you."

Kairon's dark eyes bored into Lucian.

"You carried out the scouting mission perfectly. You struck three outposts, assassinated eight sentries, and brought back precise intelligence on the inside of the stronghold. Without your information, the main force's advance would have been delayed by at least an hour, and our advantage of surprise would have diminished. Then there was the upper-tier Warden Boss as well. It would not be an exaggeration to call you the foremost contributor to this operation. To be honest, you performed beyond my expectations."

Kairon placed a heavy leather pouch on the document.

"An additional thirty gold coins."

An extra reward far exceeding the base payment.

Fifty gold coins in total.

It was an enormous sum for a mere silver-rank mercenary, more than enough to recover the absurd expense Lucian had poured into the bow and Silvermoon Grass longsword yesterday.

"And."

Kairon took a long black leather box from beneath the table and opened it.

Lucian's eyes narrowed.

Inside the box, a pair of dark silver bracers gleamed with quiet dignity.

They were not crude things hammered from steel.

Geometric, intricate patterns flowed across their surfaces.

And along those patterns ran faint, unfamiliar pulses like a heartbeat.

Ether.

This was a magical armament, an artifact the mages of the Mage Tower had crafted by shaping energy.

"These are bracers cast from mithril alloy. A magical artisan engraved a defensive magic circle that reduces physical impact. The moment you wear them, an ether barrier will form around your forearms."

An ether barrier.

The pain in Lucian's left arm, where the Boss's fist had struck and burned through his nerves yesterday, flashed through his mind.

If he had possessed this artifact then, it could have reduced that terrible, bone-jarring impact to half or less.

For a magic swordsman, the survival of his arms was directly tied to the survival of his magic casting.

That would change if he reached the level where he could layer mana control, but not yet.

"It is one of the knights' reserve supplies. Consider it part of the reward for scouting so well beyond expectations. Keep it."

Fifty gold coins and a mithril artifact.

It went beyond the bounds of an ordinary reward. It was an exceptionally generous reward.

The reason Kairon was giving him so much.

Naturally, it was not purely payment for his achievements.

Kairon had seen Lucian's potential.

A middle Warden defeating an upper-tier Warden alone was not something that could happen by chance.

A lower-tier Warden defeating a middle Warden would have been somewhat understandable. Even that was normally close to impossible.

There was a reason middle Warden and above was the standard for a formal knight.

And the gap only grew exponentially as the realms rose.

Lucian had even seemed to reach the upper tier through this battle.

Those at lower realms could not gauge those above them, or found it difficult to do so. Those at higher realms were different.

That did not mean they could always tell, only that it was relatively easier.

Lucian had clearly surpassed the middle tier, even if he had not fully reached the upper tier.

His growth rate was utterly abnormal.

He was someone who had exceeded not only Kairon's expectations, but even the world's common sense. Someone who could not be judged carelessly.

Securing such a warrior as an ally would be beneficial both militarily and politically.

The reward was payment for achievement, but it was also an investment in the future.

Magical armaments were rare, but to a royal knight order, this was only one item of reserve equipment.

Even setting aside his High Warden rank, Kairon was an able commander who would not fail to make such calculations.

Lucian took the leather box without complaint.

Artifacts were difficult to acquire even after pouring a hundred gold coins into a back-alley information broker.

Especially an artifact containing mithril.

Whatever the reason, there was no reason to refuse.

He took out the bracers and strapped them onto his forearms.

They possessed the featherlike lightness unique to mithril alloy.

They fitted snugly over the Wyvern-leather Light Armor he already wore, not hindering his joints in the slightest.

The moment he put them on, a cool current drifted around his forearms, and he felt a thin, invisible membrane of ether form over them.

They weighed nearly nothing, yet made him feel as secure as though he had put on steel shields.

"Thank you."

Lucian gave a brief, dry expression of gratitude.

"It is the fair price of the blood you shed."

Kairon emptied his teacup, leaned deeply into his chair, and drew out his real purpose.

"Let me ask you something. How much do you understand about the true background of this subjugation operation?"

"I was told it was a preemptive purge of a Beastfolk stronghold."

"That is only a shell thrown to third-rate mercenaries. The real reason was to forcibly stabilize Kaldia's defensive line."

Kairon roughly spread a frontier map across the center of the table.

"The war with the Kaizen Duchy has already escalated beyond control. The royal regular army on the Eastern Front is being pushed to the brink of annihilation, while the western frontier garrison has been steadily stripped of troops until little more than a shell remains."

Lucian nodded indifferently.

It matched what he had heard in the back alleys.

"Burning the Beastfolk stronghold was meant to cut away the threat of magical beasts for a time, so this frontier could endure even without the garrison. But are Beastfolk the only beasts out there? Ogres in the south, Wyverns in the north, the remnants of orcs in the east. Potential disasters are scattered everywhere."

Kairon's gaze weighed heavily on Lucian.

"Our Silver Lion Knights cannot remain here forever. The moment a royal command comes, we must turn our horses toward the blood-soaked Eastern Front. When that happens, Kaldia will need the strength to defend itself."

Kairon looked directly at Lucian and continued.

"Will you become a Knight?"

It was an offer Lucian had expected.

Hector's letter of recommendation had carried a similar meaning.

Back then, it had been a position as a soldier in a special task force. The form was more refined now, but the essence was the same.

Join an organization and become one who protected others.

"Would becoming a Knight mean joining the Silver Lion Knights?"

"Not necessarily. You could be appointed directly as a knight under Kaldia's lord. Middle Warden and above qualifies for a knighthood, and your skill is more than sufficient."

Kairon tapped Kaldia on the map with his pointer.

"Kaldia needs more knights. Sir Graywood, the commander of the garrison, cannot defend this frontier alone. Even one more Warden-level knight would completely change the density of our defenses."

It was a reasonable offer.

As a knight, Lucian's status would be guaranteed, and he would receive pay and equipment.

More than anything, Kaldia would become his official base.

He would no longer be a wandering mercenary, but a knight who defended the city.

His social standing would be entirely different.

It was also reasonable from Kairon's perspective.

If he tied a warrior with such potential to Kaldia, the frontier's defenses would remain strong even after the knights departed.

With the knight order unable to remain stationed on the frontier, securing local strength was the most efficient method.

However.

"I appreciate the offer, but I must respectfully decline."

Kairon's expression did not change.

He only gave a slight nod, as though he had expected it.

"May I ask why?"

"I received a similar offer before. The reason is the same as then. If I become a Knight, I must follow orders, and I cannot choose whom I fight. I want to face magical beasts. I want to avoid raising my sword against people whenever possible."

Kairon's eyes narrowed slightly.

He would not fight people.

Considering that a knight's duty was to fight for the nation and lord, this was a fundamental refusal.

To say he would face only magical beasts meant he was refusing to be drawn into war.

"Are you worried about being drafted into the war against Kaizen?"

"That is part of it, but more fundamentally, belonging to an organization does not suit my nature. I must move freely. Only then can I grow stronger."

Kairon fell silent for a moment.

"That is unfortunate. But I will not force you. A warrior chooses his own path."

Kairon rose and added one more thing.

"Remember this, however. If crisis comes to Kaldia, a time will come when every warrior is needed, whether they are knights or mercenaries. Probably soon. When that time comes, I hope you will help Kaldia."

Lucian nodded.

"If Kaldia is in danger, I will fight. Even if I am not a Knight."

Kairon smiled faintly.

It was the first smile Lucian had seen from him.

For an instant, a human expression crossed the cold commander's face.

"Good. I will trust those words. You may go."

Lucian stood and left the reception room.

With the pouch of gold and artifact bracers in hand.

* * *

When he left the residence, two suns hung high overhead, blazing down as though they would burn Kaldia to ash.

The square was steeped in the temporary, narcotic-like vigor of the news of victory over the Beastfolk.

Lucian stopped by the Mercenary Guild and flatly informed Rina that he had received his reward.

"An additional thirty coins on top of the base payment, and even a mithril artifact from the knight order? Directly from the deputy commander?"

Leaving Rina behind with eyes that looked ready to pop from shock, he headed for his old stone dwelling.

He shut the stone door, locked it, and sat cross-legged on the straw.

It was time to examine with his own eyes the true results of the third leap that had burst free of its shell.

What he felt amid the adrenaline of desperate battle was different from what he could observe in the quiet abyss.

First, the mana channels.

He forced his consciousness into his empty left hand.

Fwoosh!

The speed at which heat rose was on a completely different level than before.

The candle flame that had once required him to hold his breath and squeeze out his strength now leaped forth as a ferocious fire the instant his brain commanded it.

It was the size of an adult man's fist.

Orange heat waves burned away the dampness of the cool stone room in an instant, lighting it as brightly as midday.

Duration.

One, two... ten, eleven, twelve.

Twelve seconds.

He had shattered his previous limit of eight seconds and gained another four.

He tested the projection range as well.

He fired the flame from his fingertips like a wedge.

The jet of fire that had struggled to reach sixty centimeters now pierced through the air for at least a meter.

A range of one meter. A duration of five seconds.

This was no simple playing with fire.

At combat distance, what would happen if he forced a meter-long flame into an enemy's face for five seconds?

Their eyes would melt, their vision would vanish, and his sword would pierce through that opening.

It was a killing tool fully worthy of being called magic.

Next came the synchronization of body and sword.

Lucian gripped the Silvermoon Grass longsword and poured mana into the blade.

Hummm!

The density of the light held by the blade was not even comparable to yesterday.

The faint blue glow that had once clung to it now shone with a stark, chilling clarity, like a fluorescent lamp had been switched on.

It was visual proof that the compression rate of his mana had expanded grotesquely.

Lucian lightly swept his sword sideways through the air.

Slaaash!

It was not the sound of steel cutting through wind.

It was the intensely chilling sound of a mana-condensed blade tearing apart the very resistance of the air.

He was not yet at the level where he could send it flying through the air, but the pressure of mana writhed as it tried to extend beyond the surface of the steel.

Finally, simultaneous operation.

In his right hand, he held the silver longsword and drove mana into it until the blade glowed. At the same time, he drew mana into his left hand and kindled a fist-sized flame.

Completely different forms of mana churned fiercely in both hands at once.

In that state, he twisted his body and followed a dynamic sequence of harsh slashes, thrusts, and evasions.

Amazingly, there was no interruption.

In the past, the moment he swung his sword, the pressure of mana had focused into his right arm and the flame in his left had faded. Now, it was different.

The vast river of mana, expanded to at least three times its former volume, divided between both arms without allowing even one percent of itself to be depleted.

He could deflect an enemy's greatsword with the sword in his right hand while destroying their vision with the flames in his left.

In the instant he seared a wound with flame, he could pierce their heart with his sword.

A contradictory, ruinous combat art unique to a magic swordsman, something no warrior or mage in this world had ever achieved.

He extinguished the flame and sheathed the silver longsword.

Then he quietly closed his eyes.

Beneath his heart, the seed of mana that had borne its first fruit pulsed quietly.

The age of war.

In the vortex of chaos where great powers sought to redraw the world's map, this much strength was only the minimum breakwater necessary for survival.

A Warden who had not even surpassed the wall of High Warden, much less Exarch, and became intoxicated with such a paltry rise would only be digging his own grave.

He was not even at the peak. He had only just reached the upper tier.

He had to grow stronger. Strong enough that nothing could shake him.

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