The madman, Kelhalm.
A wizard who had lived for over a hundred years looked ahead. What stands in my way is an ancient disaster, a huge water column rising into the sky. Every time the pouring rainwater touched Kelhalm’s skin, it made a sound.
Raindrops that steal the given time.
A cursed lake that steals time and accelerates it, hastening the end that all living things face. However, even the lake could not give Kelhalm the gift of death.
“I guess so.”
“I guess so,” Kelhalm muttered. Muttering, he took a step forward. With a crash, black water droplets jumped into the air.
Kelhalm is an immortal being.
The spirit’s blood, Kelhalm’s madness and hatred, the screams of the students flowing down into the old water, and the student’s last wish. The curse created by all of them mixed together dyed Kelhalm’s soul black on that day a hundred years ago.
Eternal life, eternal life.
That day, time stopped in Kelhalm.
Time has stopped, a broken clock. Kelhalm could destroy that watch at any time. Because the curse that dyed my soul black was immortality, not immortality.
A life you can quit whenever you want.
A hell from which you can be liberated whenever you wish.
“The eternal life you gave me.”
but.
“I will live this long life, where I don’t know when it will end, solely for you.”
Kelhalm did not do that.
“I will sacrifice my life to keep my oath.”
He did not run away from the hell given to him. There was no rest in his death. He continued to walk the path given to him. He lived a hell-like life, steeped in madness. Just, endlessly.
Snap.
Because I had to keep my promise.
Snap.
Even if everything in Artia crumbles, becomes a heap of ashes, and is forgotten by people… if he continues to fight, if he, as the head of Artia, chooses to keep going, the children’s lives can be considered as not over.
Snap.
And finally Kelhalm arrived here.
Kelhalm stopped walking and looked back. When he looks back, he sees the path he has walked unfolding. There was someone standing at the beginning of the road.
“······.”
A girl looking at herself.
She is a girl who resembles the student she was unable to protect that day. Of course, Kelhalm knows that that girl is different from his student. It’s just a coincidence that their appearance and talents coincide, but their backgrounds and personalities are all different.
Even though I know that fact.
Kelhalm saw traces of Celestia von Artanim on Resty Eleanoa. What comes to his mind are the words he said to that child.
“Just like you have done up until now, believe in the stars. Stars are guides that brighten your path. “He will be a reliable companion who will accompany you on your journey.”
How much I regretted those words.
How terrible were the words of a child who believed in stars until the end. Kelhalm, recalling her terrible memory, burst out laughing. Yes, something like that should never happen again.
“Lesti Eleanor.”
A child who resembles a student.
However, the child will walk a different path than his student. Kelhalm opened his mouth as he looked at the child. Kelhalm spoke while the Lake of Curse was overflowing.
“Believe in yourself. Trust yourself and move forward, not anyone else.”
Kelhalm laughed.
“There is a way to do that.”
The teacher laughed.
“I’ll open it.”
That would be the role of a teacher and senior.
Kelhalm turned his head. He snapped and took a step forward. Looking at the overflowing lake, Kelhalm slowly, very slowly closed and opened his eyes.
···An impenetrable road.
What that child is looking at is beyond this road. The place where that child can shine will also be beyond this lake. That child’s stage is not here.
so.
“Balance.”
This is my stage.
2.
An army of demonic beasts surging in, filling the horizon.
Lark’s expression hardened in front of the magical beast that was attacking him like a wave. A magical beast that pushes ahead with quantity. Moreover, all of this is work created by an apostate.
···The situation is not good.
If you tell them to only deal with the waves of demonic beasts, everything will work out, but the problem is the existence of the ‘King of Demonic Beasts’ who commands them. It must be very difficult to deal with demonic beasts while being wary of that existence.
‘furthermore···.’
Lark looked beyond the Demon King.
There was a place he had to go. There are enemies over there that need to be defeated, but you shouldn’t be held back here. He clenched his teeth at Rakguy and put his foot down.
Cooung.
The sky is opening, the earth is shaking.
Beyond, a roar echoed again and again from the center of the temple. It even feels like everything is urging you on. Lark became impatient and swung his sword with force.
Ka-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga!
The sword energy spitting out from the tip of the sword engulfs the demonic beasts. The blood of the torn demon beast splashes out in all directions, but as the blood is swallowed, new demon beasts attack. This is the moment when Lark grits his teeth in front of the endless waves of demonic beasts.
Wow, I said.
A sharp cutting sound passed through Lark’s ears.
The front line extends from behind. The sword strike that passed by Lark scratched the demonic beasts for a long time. The sword energy spread out like a net and slaughtered the demonic beasts.
Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssww!
Blood pouring out.
As the finely divided pieces of meat poured out, the sound of someone walking rang in Lark’s ears. The sound of light steps, as if walking without any effort.
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“Well, baby.”
What rings in my ears is a cracked voice.
“Putting all your effort into one blow is the direction you should pursue as a prosecutor. However, it is a foolish thing to do in a situation where you have to deal with a large number of people like this.”
“Tuk-tuk,” someone touched Lark’s shoulder.
“Pursue efficiency.”
He touched Lark’s shoulder and walked forward. He passed by Lark and stood in front of Lark.
“A sword ultimately depends on how you swing it.”
He swung his sword lightly.
What explodes from the tip of the swung sword is a sword energy that resembles a whip. A sword technique he devised to deal with the majority.
Danggeom (亂劍), a net of swords.
The demonic beasts caught in the net were split apart. Blood spurted out and the blood fog became thick. On top of the bloody field, he lightly brushed away his sword. “Ahhhh!” the blood spilled onto the meadow.
“···you?”
Lark looked at the prosecutor standing in front of him.
Sword Demon, Draka.
A swordsman who was robbed of his reason and ego through a contract and turned into a doll. However, that appearance now was far from that of a doll.
“Now the sword is a bit lighter.”
Draka took a long breath and muttered.
The star’s bondage, which had been shaking ever since entering Alkeia, was finally broken at this moment. The stars can no longer hold on to the despair of humans who only want revenge.
The sword ghost was released from bondage.
He is a swordsman who rose to superhuman status through his persistence, and a ghost who only desires revenge. He knows that his thirst is not yet satisfied. He picked up a sword to satisfy his thirst that could not be quenched by anything and his pierced soul.
With his sword in hand, he looked at the stage he had to stand on.
The stage that the arrogant gray wizard had prepared.
A group of demonic beasts stretching beyond the horizon, a temple full of traces of apostates. Apostates out there. Draka looked around and sighed.
“iced coffee.”
The Sword Demon laughed until his mouth was torn.
“Really, this is the best stage.”
3.
Kang, kaaaaaaaang!
Sword and sword clashed and sparks flew. Every time the sword drew a line, the ground flipped over, and the air swirled along the path drawn by the sword. So, in the stormy wilderness, the two swordsmen swung their swords.
Sword Saint, Kuntel.
Sword Saint, Kalt.
Among the swordsmen who inherited Galatric’s swordsmanship, they are two people with the title of Sword Saint, which is given to the most noble. What is contained in their swords is not just their own lives. The place where they are now standing is filled with the history of Galatric, the valley of the sword.
···Galatric type.
The sword technique left behind by the founder who created the Sword Canyon.
All sword seekers who trained in the Sword Canyon learned the sword technique. The prongs of the sword are slightly different depending on the teacher and clan, but if you go back to the roots, it means that there is only one swordsman.
The now forgotten swordsman, Ganicalt van Galatric.
The swordsmanship left behind by the swordsman, the proudest and most noble swordsman in the history of mankind, has been passed down through the superhumans of the canyon.
“Galatric style. It is a sword technique left behind by the first sword master, the great swordsman. But, did you know what? Kalt.”
Kalt thought as he swung his sword.
The things Kuntel once said to me.
“Galatric style is extremely difficult. That is not an area that can be reached through training alone. Even now that I have become a superhuman, I still do not fully understand the Galatrick style.”
“All I can do is at most meals 1 to 5. “I had to dedicate my whole life just to learn this.”
The first meal of Galatric style, Chogyeonsal.
The swords struck at high speed and Kaaaaang! A long friction sound rang out.
“This is the swordsmanship of the greatest person in human history. There is no way that an ordinary swordsman, much less a swordsman, could catch up to the level he achieved.”
“Nevertheless, the seekers of Sword Canyon wanted to imitate this sword technique.”
“That’s why I studied and researched.”
Type 2, Heo Sang-geom.
An invisible sword and a sword clawed at each other in the air. “Chaaaaaaaaaaah,” the ground cracked long.
“The second generation Sword Saint who inherited the valley laid out the basics of Galatrick style. He had a talent for organizing things. He organized the herbal food and distributed it to the seekers.”
Third type, absolute sword.
The sword energy that cut off everything it touched clashed with each other, splitting even space. The sound of space twisting rang out.
“The third generation embodied it, the fourth generation established the teaching method, and the fifth generation created a new interpretation…”
4th meal, 5th meal…
“And so the Galatrick style continued.”
“Countless and countless superhumans were obsessed with the Galatrick style. “I will perfect this swordsmanship and continue the legacy of the great swordsman of the first generation.”
“So they continued to develop it by mixing their own sword techniques with the Galatrick style and adding their own enlightenment. “For a very long time.”
Kaang.
“Hundreds of years passed like that.”
“The ‘Galatric style’ we are learning now may be far removed from the swordsmanship used by the first swordsman. “It may take a completely different form.”
“But, isn’t that why it’s a Galatrick type?”
Kang, kaang!
“Numerous sword seekers who passed through the Sword Canyon.”
“Numerous swordsmen produced from the canyon.”
“Because it is a swordsmanship that is a mixture of the swords they learned in the Sword Canyon, Galatric, and their lives…”
Kaaaaaaaa!
“so that.”
“It must be something of the Galatric type.”
Kalt mumbled and laughed.
Galatric no longer refers to a single swordsman named ‘Ganikalt van Galatric’. Galatric became the word for the Canyon of the Sword.
So, in the Galatric style.
It’s as if the lives of all the swordsmen who went through Galatric are placed on top of the sword that Kalt wields. Kalt was walking the path of the sword that they had devoted their lives to honing. And, on that road…
“I guess you are too.”
There is also you who was a former sword saint.
Kalt was standing on the path led by Kuntel, the last survivor of the Canyon of the Sword. His blood dripping, his breath catching, Kalt laughed.
“So, Galatric style is a swordsmanship that improves over time. “It would have been possible as long as Galatrick was alive, but now it is no longer possible.”
“That’s why I’m teaching you.”
Kuntel’s laughter echoed in Kalt’s ears.
“I hope this sword technique never ends.”
“I hope that this beautiful swordsmanship with hundreds of years of history will continue to the next and the next.”
Kalt grabbed his sword.
“I hope that you can further develop the swordsmanship I have honed in your own way.”
Kalt let out a long breath and shed Kuntel’s sword. As he shed his sword, Kalt changed his posture, a posture that Kuntel could not understand. It has to be that way.
‘This is a sword made to deal with you.’
Galatric type, reform.
Kalt’s sword sparkled in the moonlight.
Standing with his feet in Galatric, the Canyon of the Sword, Kalt swings his sword. Kalt, who had been walking along the path left by Kuntel, passed Kuntel for the first time and took a step forward.
Sixth ceremony, Wolyeong (月影).
Kalt’s sword scattered the moonlight.
fantasy,
