Chapter 59

Darkin Winterbell.

Second in line within the Winterbell Family.

And a crazy old man.

The place I had gone to with the old man was the training grounds.

Clutching a wooden sword, he looked at me and said,

“Try to land even a single scratch on me.”

“...Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Do I look like the kind of man who’d say something like this as a joke?”

“No, sir.”

“Then shut up and get started. If not, you’ll regret it.”

“Regret, you sa—”

Before I could even finish my sentence, Darkin’s wooden sword came hurtling toward me.

Chwaeeaaeng!

Before the tearing wind noise even reached my ears, his sword had already pierced my chest.

“Guhk!”

I thought he might’ve actually put a hole in my chest and stabbed through my heart. Thankfully, there was no hole. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if a massive bruise formed.

‘Did he hold back? Even though he swung with that kind of speed?’

“Next time, it won’t end with just this. If you want to survive, struggle. If you can’t even endure here, forget about becoming the Patriarch—you’ll be purged from within Winterbell itself.”

A murderous glint stirred in his eyes.

It felt like I was face-to-face with a beast.

Like that old man could devour me whole at any moment. Chills ran down my nape, but strangely, I didn’t find this situation entirely unpleasant.

In a way, this was a chance to be taught by a swordsman said to stand on equal footing with the strongest of Winterbell.

If that once-in-a-generation genius named Arkan hadn’t appeared, Darkin was fated to become a conqueror. If Darkin possessed the greatest talent among humans, Arkan’s talent transcended species.

He had already reached the realm of transcendence, so in that sense, it wasn’t a stretch to say so. And Darkin was a man even Arkan acknowledged.

Even though he hadn’t become the best, he continued to push himself to become stronger, even now.

Unyielding determination.

That might be his greatest weapon.

“Keep getting lost in thought like that and you’ll lose your damn head.”

Seok!

The tip of Darkin’s sword split the back of my neck. A clean line opened up, and blood trickled from the cut flesh.

‘This psycho.’

If that old man hadn’t held back, my head would’ve flown clean off. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

I changed my footwork and widened the distance.

Tak tak tak!

“Give it your all. Imagine you’re facing your enemy. Don’t swing your sword as a member of the Winterbell Family. You and I aren’t family members—we’re just two humans trying to kill each other.”

From his wooden sword, a dark aura surged outward. My body instinctively shrank back.

‘Hey! Who said you could use aura!’

A swordsman of his caliber—

Even with a twig instead of a wooden sword, he could split stone like tofu just by imbuing it with aura. Sure, my body was tougher than stone, but I was sure it wouldn’t make much difference to him.

Whooong!

Even though he was more than twenty paces away, when he swung the twig, a sound like space being torn filled the air, and a huge gash appeared on my chest.

Chwaak!

Blood gushed like a fountain from the diagonal wound. But even then, his wooden sword didn’t stop.

Was he seriously trying to kill me?

‘Sht. He just dragged me out here and now he’s doing this? Is he actually trying to teach me, or is he just senselessly tormenting me? Damn lunatic.’

I began circulating the mana throughout my entire body. Then I cloaked myself in mana.

[Surely, my mana had grown incomparably stronger than before.]

For even the Behemoth to offer praise, I must’ve achieved quite a lot. The moment I released all the mana imbued in my heart—bang!—a violent gust of wind swept across the area.

“Hooh. I see. At least your mana’s worth something. But you’re a swordsman. If you’re holding a sword, you ought to settle things with that sword. Are you planning to charge in relying solely on that brute mana of yours?”

“I only released it to survive.”

“Your damn mouth just doesn’t stop flapping, does it.”

Suddenly, Darkin snapped his wooden sword in two.

‘What the hell is this old man doing?’

Before I could even finish wondering, he showed me. He had split the wooden sword in two, taking a twin-sword stance.

‘He’s seriously switching to dual blades all of a sudden?’

Well, dual blades, greatsword, bare hands—it didn’t matter what absurd trick he used. The fact remained that Darkin was toying with me. Still, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

And at this point, I was starting to get pissed.

How long did I have to keep dancing to this old man’s tune?

What exactly was he trying to do, what did he want from me? Just being dragged here without a word had already been irritating, and now getting beaten on top of that—my patience was running out.

‘Fine. Even if I get beaten half to death, I’m going to land at least one hit.’

I activated every enhancement spell I could at once. My body, already strengthened through rebirth, was further empowered by the spells. I decided to use a sword technique—a blend of the Winterbell sword style and what I had once wielded during my time as Van Descartes.

Tak. Tak.

Chwaeeeeeng!

Flowing like water, a seamless stream of sword strikes.

I rode the momentum, swinging my blade without pause.

Thanks to my reinforced body, my form didn’t collapse. And perhaps it was because I had spent several days swinging a sword—my mind naturally recalled the most efficient paths for each movement.

Like this.

This angle.

That direction.

“Not bad.”

That old man had a look of satisfaction on his face. I could tell he was genuinely praising me. Realizing that made me feel genuinely good. But I didn’t stop my sword. I swung it even faster.

In this moment—

I felt like I mustn’t stop.

Boom! Bang! Boom! Bang!

My blood boiled, and my heart pounded louder with each strike.

Don’t stop. Faster! Sharper!

The mana engraved in my heart by Attica spread throughout my body. From the tip of my blade, a sky-blue aura danced non-stop, evoking the image of a clear sky.

“Don’t stop. Keep swinging that sword. As if you mean to kill me.”

He was evading every one of my attacks with the bare minimum movement. I already knew—not a single slash I’d thrown so far had grazed him—but still, I refused to stop.

I want to reach him. I want to hit him.

Even if I swung my sword faster than this—

Even if I swung it more precisely than this—

Could I even land a single scratch on that old man?

What do I need to do?

What would it take for my blade to reach him?

Think. Think more.

Unconsciously, I focused mana into my eyes to enhance my vision. My heart pounded harder, faster.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

As my blood surged, my thoughts accelerated. Then all of my senses heightened, and the world around me began to slow. I had stepped into a new realm.

And yet, even after stepping into that new realm, that old man continued to live within his own time.

He formed words with his lips.

You think you can cut me with just that?

“……”

How could I cut him?

In that moment, one image flashed through my mind.

If I couldn’t cut that old man alone…

Then I’d just cut down the entire training grounds!

Seolhwa (Snow Blossom).

Winterbell-style Illusion Sword, Fourth Conceptual Technique.

A technique that created snowflake-shaped aura and sliced through everything in its surroundings. But I decided to recreate it in my own way.

The biggest drawback of Seolhwa was its casting speed. Its overwhelming range and destructive power were flawless, but it simply took too long to activate. That made it far too inefficient.

No enemy in their right mind would just stand there and wait every time you started gathering a concept technique.

So.

In this moment, I decided to create a far more practical conceptual technique.

“You little brat. Why have you suddenly stopped? Don’t tell me you’ve already given up?”

As I halted my steps, Darkin shouted at me with a displeased look. His wooden sword pierced my right shoulder, but I paid it no mind and focused on what I had to do.

What matters is speed. Unlike before, I’ll cut off the frontloading process entirely and pull up the aura all at once to flood the area in a single burst.

As I swung my sword with all my might—

The violently rising aura exploded in an instant, surging out in all directions.

Chwaaaaak!

“──!”

In the blink of an eye, the aura engulfed the area and transformed into snowflake-shaped crystals. Compared to the old version of Seolhwa, this was far rougher, with a fiercer force behind it.

And the range consumed the entire training grounds.

But that monster of a man, Darkin, deflected every last snowflake of aura that rained down from all sides.

At a speed that made it impossible to believe he was human.

With just one wooden sword, he cut everything down.

Having wiped out half of my modified Seolhwa, Darkin chuckled pleasantly.

“Not bad. That last attack was pretty decent! But even that isn’t enough to leave a scratch on me. Is that all? If you’re done, I’ll be cutting your neck.”

I stood there in shock, staring at the scene.

This crazy old man! The fact that he hasn’t even shown 20% of his strength is what’s really terrifying here.

Seolhwa, the conceptual technique.

Even my Modified Seolhwa, recreated in my own version, had been effortlessly broken. He probably wouldn’t actually kill me just because I didn’t land a hit. But I had no doubt he’d beat me until I was nearly dead.

And more than anything—if I failed to land even a scratch here, my pride wouldn’t survive it.

Just once! Let me land one hit—just once!

It was time to play every card I had.

I activated Bloodfire Heavenly Divine Art.

The tattoos engraved on my upper body ignited in a deep red glow, and I felt a surge of overwhelming power churn through me. My eyes turned crimson, and my entire vision became soaked in blood-red light. But I didn’t stop there—I also cast a Tier 7 enhancement spell, Bloodfire Body Strengthening. My heart thundered like mad, sending powerful energy coursing through my bloodstream.

Enhancement upon enhancement upon enhancement.

I laid down every card I had, pushing my body to its absolute peak.

A strange euphoria swelled within me, and I felt the confidence that I could do anything—right now.

Yes. If it’s now…

Van Descartes-style.

Close-range.

One-foot draw strike.

A sword technique focused entirely on slashing the opponent as quickly as possible, maximizing power and speed in a single slash. A strike that focused solely on one thing—cutting the target.

I poured everything I had into this one strike.

Now!

Kicking off the ground, I closed the distance in an instant and swung my sword like a flash of light.

“……”

Seok.

Darkin’s sleeve was torn.