I Pull Out Excalibur

31 – Junior Priest Bulkman (2)

Having observed Bulkman’s reaction, Na-jin was confident.

His plan had been successfully executed.

‘It seems the plan worked.’

– It seems so.

Right after receiving Bulkman’s request, Na-jin had investigated the Order of the Sword. From Merlin’s knowledge to rumors about the order and even relevant books. Information about the Order of the Sword was relatively easy to find, as they were not a closed, secretive group.

Thus, with the gathered information, Na-jin reached one conclusion before starting the mission.

‘I can reveal my talents to some extent.’

Of course, Na-jin was aware that his talents could be considered a ‘dangerous element.’ He knew that if he were to casually steal and imitate the vision swordsmanship of the noble families, things would get very complicated.

However, revealing his talents in front of Bulkman was done with confidence, because Na-jin was sure that it was acceptable to the Order of the Sword.

“hahahaha. A passionate young man, indeed.”

“You can see as much as you want. Just don’t come too close. It might be dangerous.”

In the previous conversation with Volcman, Najin confirmed it. The information about the sect he had found was not wrong.

“The Sword Sect does not hide my swordsmanship.”

For decades, or perhaps his entire life, those who dedicated themselves to the advancement of swordsmanship did not shy away from exposing their swords to the outside world.

Moreover, even if someone stole the sect’s swordsmanship and developed it in their own way, the sect would rather applaud and congratulate the fact. They would show satisfaction that new paths in swordsmanship had opened up.

“I told you. It’s a gathering of rather peculiar individuals.”

Merlin said.

“They are lunatics who think it’s enough if they can advance their swordsmanship. Their mindset itself is a bit different.”

The priests of the Sword Sect.

The values they prioritized were the advancement of swordsmanship and the positive aspects of testing. Reflecting on that, Najin recalled the principles of the Sword Sect he had confirmed in the books.

He succeeded in capturing Volcman’s interest.

Now, all that remained was to draw Volcman in using those principles. Najin, recalling the plan he had laid out in advance, tightened the grip on his knife.

“If I’m lucky…”

I might be able to imitate various swordsmanship.

Watching Volcman swing his sword, Najin savored the anticipation. There was no intention of learning a few simple techniques and returning. It seemed that Volcman still had many techniques hidden.

“Since I’ve decided to steal, might as well do it thoroughly.”

Najin smiled.

2.

After finishing off the remaining orcs, Volcman took a long breath. Sweat beads adorned his forehead, and his exhaled breath was rough. It wasn’t an easy task to face orcs without a sword expert’s skill.

However, that’s how one gets trained.

Relying solely on the cutting power of a sharp sword leads to the dulling of the blade itself. Whenever Volcman confirmed the sharpness of his swordsmanship honed over many years through such training, he felt a sense of joy.

So, under normal circumstances, he would be smiling happily right now, but…

“…”

Volcman couldn’t smile.

Silently, he turned his head backward. There was something bothering him. There, a young man was holding the handle with an orc’s head that Volcman had beheaded.

The young man who identified himself as Imha.

Before starting the orc hunt, when the young man asked if he could observe the swordsmanship up close, Volcman readily replied, “Sure, why not.” The young man seemed diligent in training, and Volcman liked the attitude of a young man eager to learn.

“So, why did I permit it?”

Volcman’s eyes narrowed.

The movements the young man had shown a while ago flashed in his mind. As if sensing the approach of a goblin from the corner of his vision, the young man moved before Volcman could shout, displaying agility.

That’s as far as my intuition can take me.

The issue, however, was the martial arts displayed by the young man next. The coordination and flow of his stance, the seamless circulation – these were the martial arts that Volkmann revealed to the young man. It was the foundational martial art for the Sword Sect, created through the flow of the entire body and weapon as one.

Of course, the martial art itself was not uncommon. The Sword Sect’s martial arts were widely known, and the four basic stances, in particular, were often covered in martial arts textbooks readily available to the public.

‘However…’

Volkmann pressed his temples firmly.

The reason the Sword Sect did not shy away from exposing its martial arts was that not anyone could simply replicate them. The Sect’s swordsmanship was perfected through years of training and repetition.

Each small movement was honed, and years were spent repeating the same actions to master a single stance. The sophistication achieved through such repetitions was the essence of the Sword Sect’s martial arts.

‘Only effort and time can complete such swordsmanship.’

It wasn’t something one could imitate just by watching. Even if one were to steal the technique, stealing the time invested in mastering it was impossible.

‘Surely, it must be that way.’

What about the movements the young man displayed a while ago?

Though wielding the sword lasted only a moment, Volkmann distinctly saw it. The young man’s posture was perfectly aligned, and the connection between stances was smooth.

The force carried in each step.

The angle of the arm’s movement and the path traced by the blade.

The exhaled breath and the direction of the gaze.

Not to mention the grip on the sword.

Everything was perfectly mastered. The precise movements displayed by the young man were not something achievable in a day or two.

‘So…’

It was a refinement comparable to the mid-level priests who had repeated the same movements for decades. Despite the differences in physique and appearance, when Volkmann watched the young man’s movements, he felt an illusion as if looking into a mirror.

That’s how similar they were.

Even in the slightest, subtle habits.

This fact made Volkmann uncomfortable. Could he have observed and learned the Sect’s swordsmanship just by glimpsing it? No, that was logically implausible. Then, had he learned the Sword Sect’s martial arts somewhere?

No matter how much he pondered, no answer surfaced.

“He said his name was Yi.”

After much contemplation, Volkmann finally spoke.

Approaching the young man, Volkmann asked the question.

“Have you by any chance learned the Sword Sect’s martial arts somewhere? The movements you just showed are of the Sword Sect, and it wouldn’t be completed in just a day or two. It seems like you’ve trained for a long time, but…”

The young man remained silent.

Bolkmann continued to inquire, “If you happen to have a mentor who taught you swordsmanship, may I inquire about their name?”

If this young man has a mentor, he must be a distinguished swordsman. To achieve such a perfect posture at his age, he must have had a skilled mentor to correct his stance.

‘Could it be a high-ranking priest from the academy? Or perhaps a wandering swordsman known for his skill? Either way, they must be well-versed in the academy’s swordsmanship.’

Indeed, who could it be?

Bolkmann patiently awaited the young man’s response, hoping it might be someone he knew. However…

“…”

The young man remained silent.

Feeling frustrated at the lack of a response, Bolkmann was about to ask again when the young man finally spoke.

“I’ve heard many stories about the Swordsmanship Academy.”

The words that came out of the young man’s mouth were not what Bolkmann had expected. Still, they couldn’t be ignored. Bolkmann’s eyes narrowed at a particular word the young man pronounced.

“They have a code of conduct there.”

The Code of Conduct for Swords (戒律).

Just as the Order of the Knights of Atanga adhered to the code of conduct for knights, the Swordsmanship Academy followed several rules established by the first Sword Saint.

The young man pronounced one of those rules.

“If you wish to discuss the sword, speak as a sword.”

Bolkmann’s eyes widened.

Soon, a dry laughter escaped his lips. It didn’t take long for the hollow laughter to transform into hearty laughter.

“If you wish to discuss the sword, speak as a sword.”

The first Sword Saint, known for his bold and unreserved nature, was always a man of the sword rather than words. He insisted that a swordsman should speak as a sword.

Therefore, that code had no other meaning.

Instead of going on and on with words, why not just face each other with swords? In the time spent measuring words, pick up your sword and charge. After a few exchanges, you’ll naturally understand.

In other words, it meant a challenge to a sword duel.

“A daring young man.”

A smile formed on Bolkmann’s lips.

Not all priests followed the code of conduct, and Bolkmann himself remembered it but did not feel bound by it. However, despite that…

Bolkmann did not take the mention of the Sword’s Code lightly enough to ignore a swordsman’s words discussing it in front of him. And, in Bolkmann’s opinion, the young man was right.

“Indeed, your words are correct.”

Volkman felt a spark of interest in the young man before him, harboring a desire to assess the young man’s skills. Volkman was well aware that there was no better way to relieve this curiosity than through a sparring match.

Swish.

Volkman drew his sword from the scabbard at his waist. Tightly bound with the belt, he presented the blade to the young man.

“As a Swordmaster, one cannot violate the principles. While I am intrigued by your swordsmanship, may I request a sparring match?”

The young man silently saluted with his sword. After firmly securing the hilt and scabbard, he took a step back.

“I would appreciate a match.”

“Very well. Once the sparring concludes, can you answer a few questions?”

“As we spar, you will naturally come to know.”

“You’re a man of few words.”

Let’s see some skill.

Muttering, Volkman lightly tapped his sword. The first move was a signal of concession. Observing the composed Volkman, Najin smiled inwardly.

Interest piqued, the mention of principles successful in drawing him in. Now, all that remained was to press Volkman and draw out the techniques he had yet to reveal.

To achieve that, one must first strip away that composure.

Najin took a step forward, lowered his stance, and Volkman’s gaze narrowed. It was a stance Volkman had never seen before. Understandably so, as it was neither the Guild’s swordsmanship nor anyone else’s.

A sword optimized for lightning-fast strikes.

A sword that bends the flow with the first strike.

Developed by Najin to quickly determine victory or defeat in the underground city, a technique he crafted himself. A raw, unrefined form of swordsmanship, too primitive to be called swordsmanship.

However.

With Najin’s innate sense accompanying it, above all, it became an incredibly sharp strike. Najin charged forward, kicking up the ground he had struck without enhancing his body with mana, yet the strike was astonishingly swift.

“······!”

Volkman’s eyes widened.

In an instant, the young man’s figure delved into the corner of his field of vision. Expecting the young man to lift the low-held sword and strike down, contrary to expectations, the young man leaped forward, mere inches away.

The trajectory of the accelerated sword twisted.

Not from below to above, but from above to below in a diagonal line. In an instant, Volkman’s body moved rapidly in response to the twisted trajectory of the sword.

Clang, clang, clang!

Maintaining the posture practiced thousands, tens of thousands of times, Volkman deflected Najin’s sword. Without a moment’s hesitation, Najin immediately followed up with the next strike.

He wouldn’t let go of the bent momentum.

3.

As the sparring continued, Volkman felt a growing sense of discomfort.

The young man before him wasn’t wielding his sword or manipulating mana. Although there was a hint of mana within him, it was still in small amounts. Yet, his movements were so swift that it made Bulckman wonder if he wasn’t indeed manipulating mana.

“No, that’s not it.”

Bulckman realized the essence of his discomfort.

It was the swift movement of the young man’s pupils. It was only then that Bulckman understood. The youth wasn’t fast, but rather, he moved ‘first’.

Where the sword would swing.

Where Bulckman would thrust.

The young man seemed to take a step ahead of Bulckman, then a step back, as if seeing all of this, leaving Bulckman tongue-tied at the precision of it.

“Raw, unrefined, yet…”

There was a raw sharpness.

A sharpness akin to a beast’s fang flickered with each moment of the sword’s precision. Bulckman skillfully parried all of it, but as he adjusted for Najeen’s next stance, his composure faltered.

*Swish.*

Najeen stamped his foot, raising his sword. It was a stance borrowed from Bulckman himself. Blocking Bulckman’s sword several times, Najeen focused on defense, readying himself for the following move.

Deflect and seamlessly transition into a stance.

As if mimicking Bulckman’s movements.

It was the guild’s swordsmanship. However, the steps and the distribution of power within Najeen’s stances belonged solely to Bulckman. It was like a habit formed through years of training, something Bulckman had honed over a decade.

“…!”

Bulckman’s gaze wavered.

Moments ago, it wasn’t clear from a distance, but facing the sword directly, he recognized it. It was his own sword.

*Clang, clang!*

With each clash of swords, Bulckman felt a sense of bewilderment. It was like staring into a mirror. Every time Bulckman displayed a new technique, the mirror shattered, yet a new one appeared instantly.

The youth reflected in the mirror replicated the techniques Bulckman showcased.

The first strike was clumsy. However, when the same technique was shown for the second time, the trajectory of the youth’s sword was flawless. Within that trajectory lay the essence of the decades Bulckman had spent training.

“Ha…!”

In disbelief. In incomprehension.

Bulckman burst into laughter.

Amidst the continuous clash of swords, Bulckman came to a realization. What the youth had said before their duel held meaning. When he asked who the master was, the youth had responded.

“You’ll naturally come to know as we spar.”

“So, that’s what it meant!”

Chills ran down Bulckman’s arm.

There was no need to inquire about the master.

Now he was facing the young man with a sword because he was the young man’s master.

He promptly demonstrated his skills. It wasn’t just a matter of copying the technique; Ivan was stealing the decades of effort Volkman had invested to hone that skill.

Volkman was well aware of this fact.

Even though he sensed that his foundation was being laid bare, Volkman did not stop his sword. Instead, a smile crept across his lips. He too enjoyed this sword duel.

“I’ve seen many geniuses being hailed as such.”

Monsters who could grasp someone’s entire life in a single moment. The young man before him was undoubtedly one of them. While clashing swords with the youth, Volkman recalled a fellow who had entered the academy with him.

But now, a friend who had gone beyond his reach.

The youngest sword expert, the youngest sword seeker, the youngest sword master… rewriting records one after another, standing at the pinnacle as an unparalleled genius.

“Karon, the Sword Saint, the master of the Sword Academy.”

Back when Karon was just an expert, Volkman felt the same sensations when their swords clashed. The feeling of one’s efforts being denied. Volkman wasn’t displeased by this fact.

“Show me more.”

It was something beneficial for himself as well.

Responding to Ivan’s unpredictable movements with his own sword was no easy task even for Volkman. Dealing with pure swordsmanship, without manipulating sword energy and mana, was challenging against such a formidable opponent.

Moreover, the young man was imitating his swordsmanship.

A sophisticated imitation to the point where Volkman felt as if he were looking at his reflection in a mirror. In the young man’s movements imitating him, Volkman found the shortcomings he hadn’t discovered before. It was an opportunity to realize what he needed to improve.

It was a good experience and a good sparring partner.

But even that was coming to an end. The sound of metal striking metal echoed as the sword clashed, and Volkman adjusted his posture for the last time. It was his strongest strike that Ivan had not seen until now.

Schwaack…

Volkman’s footsteps were firmly imprinted on the field. A complex and precise spell, impossible to catch even with Ivan’s fast-moving eyes. Sliding into Ivan’s guard, Volkman swung his sword.

The afterimage scattered with a swift sword strike.

Thunk!

The moment the swords collided, Volkman’s sword hilt shattered. Though he barely managed to defend, Ivan was pushed back and rolled on the ground. When Ivan rose to his feet, Volkman, with a satisfied expression, was there.

“It was a good sparring, Ivan.”

He smiled.

“When you can handle the sword energy, I’d like to face you with a sword clad in it.”

Volkman approached Ivan and extended his hand. Ivan grabbed it and stood up. Looking at Ivan, who repeatedly clenched and stretched his numb fingers, Volkman spoke.

“Do you ever think about joining the Sword Academy?”