Academy’s Genius Swordsman

The sun was nowhere to be seen in the overcast sky. Columns of smoke rose everywhere, merging with the dark clouds and adding to the dreariness. The clashing of weapons, screams, and shouts mixed cacophonously over the flat plains beneath the makeshift ceiling.

“Don’t retreat!”

“Break through here, and we’ll finish the Eastern Front! Push forward!”

Amid the chaos, officers’ shouts reverberated. The allied forces gathered under the banner of Nebula Clazier’s overthrow covered the plains.

At the center stood the once-mighty Panthia Fortress, which had been known as the Horn of the East. Alongside the Felgrand Mountains in the distant north, it was one of the largest strongholds of Nebula Clazier.

Two months had passed since the commencement of the purge operation.

Nebula Clazier, driven into a corner, had abandoned their small and medium-sized outposts, consolidating their strength at their major strongholds and mounting a desperate resistance. Confirming that his soldiers were not advancing despite his orders, the officer shouted again.

“Form ranks! Don’t you want to drive them out of our land?”

“It’s no use. How can we possibly…!”

But the soldiers did not advance. Despite having the upper hand, they showed no confidence.

Neither the capable commanders nor the catapults endlessly launching boulders at the fortress could bolster their morale. The defenders at the gate were simply too formidable.

There were strong individuals with or without the Star’s Blessing. Despite the recent trend of relying solely on their powers, Nebula Clazier was still a group with a long and proud history. Beastmen clad in white heavy armor taunted their enemies.

“Come on, cowards!”

“Is this all you’ve got to take down the Church?”

They were the Archbishop’s guard. Though they numbered only twenty, they were impenetrable. As the vanguard of Nebula Clazier, they had defeated countless enemies and now proved their worth in defense.

Any forces that attempted to breach the defensive line were quickly slain. The most terrifying of them all was Archbishop Fantasion. The enormous weredeer, leading the defenders, roared at the allied forces.

“Fools, can’t you see that nothing will change-!”

The Church had twelve exceptionally strong individuals, known as the Archbishops.

Fantasion’s thunderous voice swept across the battlefield like ripples on a lake. Approaching soldiers hesitated and retreated. Piles of severed bodies surrounded him like mountains.

“A m-monster.”

“How can we possibly defeat that…!”

His muscles bulged, almost tearing through his armor. His massive body, crowned with the head of a stag, looked like a god’s bust from some ancient religion.

Fantasion wielded a huge double-headed axe. Despite soaking up the blood of two entire knight orders, the two-meter-wide blade still exuded a menacing aura.

The Star’s Blessing had long vanished after the initial bombardment, but it didn’t matter. No one among the allied forces surrounding him believed they were the ones ‘besieging’ Fantasion.

“Archbishop…!”

The commander clenched his fist. Blood dripped from where his nails had dug in. The longer the fight dragged on, the worse their situation became. They had the numerical advantage, but their forces were being depleted without achieving significant results.

At this rate, their demoralized soldiers might flee. It was unfortunate that there were nine more monsters like this ahead. The commander, who had checked his pocket watch hundreds of times, twisted his lips.

“How much longer…!”

“Did you think you could win just because we have no powers?!”

Fantasion shouted again. Swinging his axe with one hand, his usual weredeer gentleness was nowhere to be found.

The allied forces continued to retreat. Their morale had completely collapsed, and they had lost the will to fight. Watching them, Fantasion signaled to his subordinates.

“It’s about time. If we kill their commander, they’ll scatter.”

“We’ve been waiting for your word.”

The guards smirked. The time had come. They had only been holding their designated defensive lines without advancing.

It was Fantasion’s plan for a counterattack. He intended to crush them when they let their guard down and rout their forces. If they killed the command, no matter how large their army was, it wouldn’t matter.

“When I give the signal, we strike.”

Fantasion murmured. His subordinates, weapons raised, nodded. His sharp stag eyes targeted the distant command center. Just as he was about to leap forward, there was a loud explosion behind him.

“Gah! What’s happening?”

“Aaaargh!!”

Fragments of stone flew violently. Several beastmen fell, struck on the back of their heads or spines. Fantasion’s eyes widened as he turned around. Through the dust, a massive black figure was striding towards them.

“You…!”

“Haah…that was tense, Sword Saint.”

The commander let out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, it wasn’t too late. Beyond the settling dust appeared an enormous weretiger. It was none other than Zaifa Tergeng, known as the strongest Sword Saint of all time.

“Washing in blood feels a bit better. The sewers are no place to walk.”

Zaifa muttered to himself. A dozen or so elite beastmen followed behind him. Zaifa’s special unit had infiltrated the fortress’s drainage system and destroyed the west gate from the inside.

“Blood…?”

A foreboding feeling made Fantasion’s fur stand on end. His gaze shifted inside the gate. The inner fortress, which should have been bustling with evacuation preparations, had turned into a blood-soaked hell.

Followers who managed production and chores, essentially serving as residents, had all been brutally slaughtered. Fantasion’s trembling voice escaped through his parted lips.

“What have you…done…!”

“I pulled some weeds.”

Zaifa answered nonchalantly. He had cut down every follower he encountered, regardless of age or gender. Fantasion protested.

“You call yourself a Sword Saint after doing that to non-combatants!”

“Catch.”

Instead of replying, Zaifa tossed something. Thud. The object spun in the air and landed at Fantasion’s feet. Veins bulged like tree roots around his neck.

“Oh…! Ohhh!”

“It looked a lot like you. Though the skill was pitiful.”

Zaifa flicked the blood off his crescent blade. Fantasion, kneeling on one knee, picked up the object. A stag’s head with partially grown antlers. It was his only son, who had just turned twenty. Zaifa spoke again.

“I have no intention of showing mercy to your kind. Having tasted hell in life, I’ll now send you to the real thing.”

“Zaifaaaa-!!”

Fantasion roared. Zaifa gripped his crescent blade without a word. The two giants launched themselves at each other simultaneously.

Zaifa and Fantasion clashed at the exact midpoint. Caaang! A sound like shattering the sky reverberated.

“Kill them all!”

“Don’t let a single one escape!”

Weapons swung so fast they were invisible. Each clash between the crescent blade and the axe produced a metallic scream. Zaifa and Fantasion wielded their massive weapons with the ease of daggers.

“My god.”

“That’s the Sword Saint…!”

Exclamations of astonishment erupted from the allied forces. The battle between Archbishop Fantasion and Zaifa seemed unreal. All they could do was watch, overwhelmed, as a fight destined for legend unfolded before their eyes. After about twenty exchanges, Zaifa leaped back, kicking off the ground.

“Hmph!”

Wham! Zaifa sprang into the air, avoiding the axe that slashed horizontally. Fantasion immediately withdrew his weapon, but that brief moment was enough for Zaifa to secure his victory.

“Your axe has gotten heavy, stag!”

Zaifa somersaulted and swung his crescent blade. The blade that had been blocked now sliced through flesh. Slaaash! As he landed, Fantasion’s right arm soared into the air.

“Ugh…!”

Fantasion grimaced. Fresh blood spurted out, drenching Zaifa’s face. The allied forces and the followers’ reactions diverged. In a duel of equals, losing a limb often signaled the end.

“Hm?!”

But that was within the realm of common sense. Fantasion didn’t retreat and charged forward, leading with his antlers. Zaifa, struck full-on, was flung back like a wrecking ball. Boom! His body flew over a hundred paces and crashed into the fortress wall with a resounding thud.

“You…!”

“Die!”

Fantasion’s double-headed axe followed the same trajectory. Zaifa barely twisted his body. Wham! Another crash echoed. He glanced sideways to see the axe blade embedded in the wall, having sliced off part of his beard. Zaifa chuckled.

“Your determination is commendable.”

“I’ll rip out your guts and devour them!”

Click! Fantasion’s axe returned to his hand as he spread his palm. Zaifa stood up.

His spit was mixed with thick blood and a few white teeth. It was clear why the allied forces had struggled. Watching Fantasion, Zaifa sighed.

“A shame.”

“Even if you beg for your life now, it’s too late. I’ll make your death as painful as possible!”

“Fantasion, was it? I wish I could fight you a bit longer.”

Zaifa’s voice was tinged with regret. Fantasion frowned.

“What?”

“I grant permission. This is not a duel, but a war.”

Zaifa murmured another cryptic line. Fantasion, deciding it was a ploy to buy time, charged forward. Suddenly, a whistling sound came from the side.

“What…”

Fantasion turned towards the sound. A human youth was charging at him. The youth, clad in a dark blue uniform, had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Despite his small stature, his movements were anything but ordinary. Just as Fantasion was about to rotate his head and body, a sharp pain flared up along his side, accompanied by a spray of blood.

“Grangshia!”

Fantasion’s eyes widened. Even without contact, the wind had cut him. He could tell who his opponent was from that single strike. Facing Schlippen, he roared in fury.

“BRAAAAT!”

Fantasion raised his axe. Even with one arm gone, the idea of losing to a greenhorn was unthinkable. Just as he was about to bring his axe down on Schlippen’s head, a strange sound came from his previously wounded side.

“What is…”

Fantasion glanced at the injury. The area around the cut was turning blue. Instead of healing, his tissues were freezing and deteriorating.

Seizing the opening, Schlippen attacked again. Slaaash! Blue lines appeared across Fantasion’s limbs as more wounds frosted over.

Finally, Fantasion noticed the sword in Schlippen’s hand. The blade, a bluish hue like that of a glacier, was inscribed with ancient magical runes. Fantasion muttered in disbelief.

“Pale Lord…”

“That’s a weapon too fine for a greenhorn to wield.”

Zaifa laughed. Any warrior worth their salt knew the name of that sword. Pale Lord, one of Doren’s seven masterpieces, held the essence of a biting winter and was the treasured weapon of the Grangshia family.

Schlippen had received Pale Lord upon joining the purge operation. Coming to his senses, Fantasion lifted his axe again.

Thud! The axe buried itself deep in the ground. Schlippen evaded the strike by the width of a sheet of paper. With a simple motion, Schlippen stabbed upward, but it wasn’t simple to Fantasion, whose movements had slowed. Thunk! Pale Lord pierced Fantasion’s throat from below.

“Urrk!”

The tip of the sword, which had penetrated the roof of his mouth, glowed with a cold blue light. As Fantasion tried to knee Schlippen, the young warrior twisted the blade. Crraack! The frozen jaw of Fantasion shattered into pieces.

“Archbishop!”

The elite guards were in shock. Fantasion’s teeth, still attached to the gums, fell apart like shattered glass. His fragmented tongue flew through the air. The invading cold from the blade infiltrated Fantasion’s brain.

“Urrrrk…”

Fantasion’s movements stopped for a moment. Schlippen didn’t miss the opportunity. Gathering his strength, he twisted his waist and slashed upward. Craack! The icy blade tore through Fantasion’s body. His eyes widened in shock.

“You…”

Fantasion’s body went still. Looking down at Schlippen, his face was unchangingly calm.

Silence descended on the battlefield. Fantasion’s grip on his axe loosened. Splaash! Blood erupted from the gaping wound stretching from his heart to his left shoulder.

Thud…! Fantasion’s massive body slowly toppled to the ground.

“He’s down!”

“The Imperial Star has taken down that monster!”

“All hail Sword Saint Zaifa! All hail Grangshia!”

Fantasion didn’t move again. Despair filled the faces of the elite guards. The allied forces’ cheers shook the heavens.

Schlippen had now taken down his second Archbishop. Although he had every reason to celebrate or feel proud, he quietly cleaned the blood from his blade. Turning to Zaifa, he asked.

“Are there any more enemies to deal with?”

“Your gaze has become quite reliable.”

Zaifa laughed. The dark blue eyes swirled like a storm about to sweep everything away. It was astonishing how much he had grown.

Since the start of the purge operation, Schlippen had quickly approached the level of a Sword Saint. Zaifa pointed towards the allied forces.

“There are none. Let the others have some work to do.”

“Understood.”

“You did well. And prepare soon to formally challenge the position of Sword Saint. I’ll be waiting.”

Schlippen nodded. The allied forces began to move into the fortress, dealing with the remaining elite guards. The sound of footsteps and screams marked the end of a long battle.

****

“Damn it. How much more blood do they need today?”

Ronan sighed. His head was spinning from all the blood he’d been giving. Next to him, a mechanical device invented by Didikan hummed and whirred.

A small tube was inserted into Ronan’s right arm. With each hum, the tube filled with his blood. As he lay back, staring at the dimly lit tent ceiling, he heard a familiar cry.

“Byaaa…”

A massive, dark head suddenly poked through the tent flap. Ronan’s eyes widened.

“Shita.”

“Byaaa…”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

Shita nuzzled Ronan’s cheek with concern. Ronan patted Shita’s head. His hand could no longer encompass its entirety. In just two months, Shita had grown to the size of a small dragon.

It was the result of consuming copious amounts of blood. While he was comforting Shita, he heard a voice.

“Ronan. Are you inside?”

“Yeah, come in.”

The tent flap opened wide as a group of pale men entered. It was the Shadow Duke and his subordinates. Ronan, lifting his head slightly while lying down, raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you when you’re busy. But we need you to step up again.”