Chapter 104 - The Light of the Old Era
In an age where countless genre novels flood the market, if one were to choose the genre that resonates most deeply with a man's heart, martial arts fiction would likely claim the top spot.
Some might argue otherwise, particularly those of the MZ generation—especially the Zs.
"Aren't they just a bunch of middle schoolers shouting out move names while throwing punches and swinging swords? Not to mention, there are actual legal institutions, yet these armed thugs run around unchecked…"
Silence!
If you don't understand the stories woven into those gestures and movements, the indescribable lives they reflect, or the generations of history behind them, you are no man at all!
And let's pretend I didn't hear the last part.
Of course, if I phrase it like that, I might be bombarded with some dreadful term that combines this wonderful genre with "dentures," so I'll exercise restraint.
Let's not bring 侠 (Xia, the chivalrous hero) into this.
That would be truly disastrous.
Anyway.
So what if they shout out their move names?
These days, they don't even say them out loud—they just call them out in their minds.
Or, a spectator watching the fight might announce them instead.
More than anything—it's cool.
Yes, coolness.
That's what really matters.
As long as one is born a man, it's impossible to let go of certain things—things that, when thought about rationally, might seem unnecessary, yet we dismiss logic with, "Whatever, it looked cool! Cheers to that!"
For example.
Even the act of pulling something out of one's heart could fall into that realm of "coolness."
A vital organ representing life.
A sacred relic pulled from within, rich with narrative.
These days, they say people pull things from between their chestbones instead.
And that very thing—just happened to Jin.
"…Huh? Wait, what?"
Three consecutive dumbfounded remarks.
He had felt an itch in his left chest and scratched it.
Then, something like a tiny bump was there, so he pulled it out—only to find himself holding a Sword of light.
How could his brain not short-circuit?
No.
Please.
Just how far is this going?
And even the Sword Saint momentarily froze.
Perhaps for the first time since earning the title of "Sword Saint," he experienced a lapse in consciousness.
He had just been about to console Lokan's disciple, who had endured all manner of hardships.
Fearing the boy might feel guilty for breaking the relic, he had even started by reassuring him that it was fine.
It had been an accident in the pursuit of doing his best.
A true man should not shrink back over something like that.
Of course, the elders had raised an uproar over the broken relic—it had belonged to the Holy King!
With the sacred power within it now gone, what would they do?
Their aged voices rang out like thunder, creating an unbearable racket.
But the Sword Saint didn't care in the slightest.
He had once wandered the world with just a single sword, refusing to heed his family's desperate pleas to return.
He had crossed countless battlefields until he reached a level where he could carve his own boundary of death beneath his feet.
A man as steadfast as steel.
So, he was resolute.
The relic—it was enough that it hadn't fallen into enemy hands.
The real concern was the fallen swordsmen who had given their lives to protect it and the wounded successors left behind.
"I was the one who sent him. So let this go."
He had decisively stated that Jin was not to blame before coming here.
But now.
"…Sacred power?"
The Sword Saint's gaze fixated on the light in Jin's hand.
The power they had assumed had vanished along with the broken relic…
In truth, it was far closer to the essence of the artifact than the shattered blade itself.
Though faint, it still carried the symbolism of an older era.
"It has… embedded itself?"
That was the only possible explanation.
"…My god."
The Sword Saint murmured in astonishment.
Meanwhile, Jin hastily examined his own heart.
The Polar Radiance and the Sacred Flame.
He was used to the two brothers of light from their long cohabitation.
But now, a foreign light had joined them.
According to the status window that had flashed briefly before vanishing, it was called [Light of the Old Era].
Another uninvited guest, moving in without permission.
Jin smacked his forehead.
"…I'm screwed. What am I supposed to do with this?"
As he extended the light in his hand toward the Sword Saint, the old man simply stared at it blankly before… shrugging his shoulders.
"How would I know?"
"…Seriously?"
Did this man only know how to fight?
Jin clenched his eyes shut.
This year's Rotation Tournament had been truly spectacular.
Ryucard, Carlos, Kendrick.
It had begun with strong contenders whose names carried weight, then introduced dark horses and bold challengers who left a distinct impression.
The matches were high-level, the results unpredictable, and the tension palpable—a true feast of combat, worthy of the hype.
That is—until the Apostle showed up.
Who could have predicted that, in the middle of the tournament, a progenitor of malice would appear?
That day, everyone in the 8th district had seen the blood-red colossus.
The beautiful yet ominous rain of falling petals was burned into their memories.
And so, the Sword Saint's feat of preventing a single casualty amid the chaos was all the more revered.
However.
Among the thousands of lives saved, others had played crucial roles as well.
The finalists.
Over a dozen participants who had made it to the main stage—They had fought alongside the Anarion swordsmen to fend off the swarming dark mages.
Their motivations varied.
Some saw it as a chance for great rewards and fame.
Others calculated that fighting together increased their chances of survival.
But not all of them needed a reason.
Some simply charged forward without hesitation, especially those from the Seven Families.
Even Anna and Katrina, despite suffering severe injuries, had proven with their very bodies what noblesse oblige truly meant.
However.
The Apostle escaped.
True to form, the coward had used the crowd as a shield to flee.
If not for the Sword Saint dispersing the final mana storm it had unleashed, countless casualties would have been inevitable.
Or so Rapf explained.
"…You really are incredible, in more ways than one."
Jin muttered, as Rapf, lying back against his hospital bed, scowled and turned his head.
"What… What do you mean? Kugh…"
He pressed the self-administered painkiller button with his left hand, over and over.
Even after being told a dozen times that the cooldown was 15 minutes, he still kept spamming it like a goldfish.
It must really hurt.
Well.
It made sense.
He had undergone a 12-hour reattachment surgery.
His severed arm had been corrupted by strange mana, forcing the medical team to exhaust themselves with purification and regeneration spells.
Of course, the patient himself required absolute rest.
And yet, the moment he saw Jin walk in carrying bags of food, he had immediately started talking non-stop.
Faced with such a sight, how could Jin not be impressed?
"…You really are a walking talking Wiki."
"What? I can't hear you—say it louder."
"Nothing important."
Amid the rhythmic beeping of the button being smashed.
Jin tore open a bag of potato chips.
It was one of the snacks he'd bought under the pretense of visiting the sick, though, in reality, he'd picked what he wanted to eat.
Given Raph's condition, he didn't seem in any shape to enjoy snacks anyway.
So, Jin figured he'd just finish them off himself.
"So, did the surgery go well?"
Crunching on the chips, Jin asked the question, to which Raph replied,
"They said I won't be back to normal for a while, but it's fine. I should just be grateful it reattached successfully."
Even while suffering, Raph managed a short chuckle before adding,
"The Seven Families really are something else. Their service is no joke. I even heard they're going to compensate me with some credits."
Jin didn't bother voicing his thoughts—that it was probably just the workplace injury compensation he rightfully deserved.
After all, the arm of a tournament participant had been severed by a traitor who had sided with a black mages.
It was only natural that the hosting Anarion Family would handle the aftermath.
But in his homeland, corporations were notorious for skimping out on such obligations. Well, whatever.
"So, Cecile got away, huh?"
"Yeah. Technically, an Apostle took her. I was in and out of consciousness, so I didn't see much… Kgh."
Raph trembled as the pain returned faster than his next dose of painkillers, while Jin crunched on another chip and briefly thought of Cecile.
That slightly drooping gaze, a frail-looking face—
And yet, at times, she would lose herself, thrashing about like a demon-possessed madman.
It was impossible to reconcile those two as the same person.
But wondering what was real was pointless.
Only the outcome mattered.
The heir of a family that had colluded with a black mage.
The prime suspect in the recently publicized disappearance of Thea.
A stain on her name that could never be erased.
"Ryucard and Carlos let a golden opportunity slip. She was barely clinging to life—one stab, one thrust, and it would've been over. But they hesitated. I mean, I lost an arm, so I'm in no position to judge, but I get it. Killing someone you know isn't easy, is it? Especially when they turned into a stranger overnight."
Raph's words carried a remarkable level of magnanimity.
His expression was rather peaceful—perhaps because the promised fifteen minutes of relief had just begun.
Though, that peace would shatter in less than a minute.
"Anyway, what about you? The tournament's canceled now."
His face was already starting to crack.
Watching Raph groan in pain, Jin grimaced in sympathy before slowly opening his mouth.
"I think I'll be busy for a while."
"Busy? Doing what?"
"Seems like the kids from the noble houses aren't ready to go home just yet. Guess it's their blue-blooded nature or something. After experiencing real combat, they've got blood pumping through their veins. They figure, since they're all gathered here, they might as well train together."
"And… you're joining them? Why?"
"Dunno. They invited me."
Jin shrugged as if it was no big deal, then looked at Raph.
"I'll bring Anna next time. Happy now?"
"…I love you."
"Alright, I'm off."
A single sentence from Jin wiped the pain off Raph's face like a miracle cure.
He got up, casually picking up the snacks he'd brought.
For Jin, training didn't hold much significance.
Anything he learned was already maxed out in mastery.
He simply didn't see the need to talk about it.
In reality, he knew the intricate chants of arcane magic so well he could recite them blindfolded.
At this point, he just used whatever seemed useful.
Like how he saw Kendrick using Thunderbird's Claw, thought it was neat, and immediately put it to use in real combat.
That's why he never felt the need to force himself to learn anything.
If he studied diligently and refined his skills, things would naturally deepen over time.
Still, Jin gladly joined the heirs' gathering.
Why?
Nothing special.
His naturally easygoing personality kicked in.
It was fun.
Watching them debate fervently, sparring lightly in friendly matches, sitting together for meals afterward—
It had a distinct atmosphere that could only be created when a group of people around the same age came together.
They weren't exactly close.
In fact, they were rather awkward with each other.
But despite that, it wasn't a bad feeling.
Of course—
Jin had another motive.
A rather scheming one at that.
His goal was simple:
Strip them of all their arcane magic!
He recalled how Zahad's Star had awakened when Lokan electrocuted him.
So, he planned to absorb every bit of knowledge from these naive heirs and create a grand unification of arcane magic.
But—
Huh?
It's not working.
Maybe because their knowledge was too shallow.
No matter how much he listened to their scholarly discussions, nothing clicked in his head.
Sparring?
Dueling?
Even when exchanging blows, the result was the same.
He even tried to learn swordsmanship—went as far as pulling out the sword of light from his chest (which made the heirs scream in terror) and challenged Ryucard.
The result?
Record: 10-0
Ryucard's overwhelming victory.
Finally, after his eleventh consecutive win, the silver-haired swordsman said,
"…Why do you keep challenging me with a sword?"
"I thought I'd learn some swordsmanship from you."
"…What?"
"…What?"
A brief moment of silence as they stared at each other.
"If that's the case…"
To Jin's surprise, Ryucard genuinely tried to teach him the sword.
And he gave it his all.
But before long, he gave up.
"I don't mean to offend, but you have no talent for the sword. Please, use your great strength elsewhere."
Watching Jin swing his light rod clumsily, that was his verdict.
Meanwhile, Kendrick laughed smugly from the side.
"I knew it! You, learning swordsmanship? I still can't believe that sacred relic chose a heretic like you! If only it had chosen me—!"
"This is his fault for being a bad teacher."
"Don't be ridiculous. Even I could teach better than—"
"Shut. Up."
Jin swung his glowing stick and smacked Kendrick into oblivion.
Then, Ryucard said,
"I'll contact my father."
"Huh?"
Thus, the Sword Saint arrived.
"Lokan's disciple, learning the sword? Hah, interesting."
Laughing, he agreed to a one-on-one lesson.
A priceless opportunity for many.
"…You're hopeless."
But the Sword Saint gave up on Jin faster than his son did.
"Don't waste your energy on useless endeavors. Focus on what you're good at."
With those words, he left.
Now, Jin couldn't even blame his teachers.
As he sighed, Ryucard, who had been watching him quietly, spoke.
"Everyone has their own shape. The sword simply does not fit yours. Do not be discouraged."
Jin later learned that the Anarion family's secret technique, Sword Soul, was a power that resided within a swordsman's honed form.
In other words, it wasn't something one could simply learn from the start.
Realizing this belatedly, Jin swallowed the bitter truth like a red pill and sighed again.
Nothing in life ever went the way he wanted.
Why was he always so unlucky?
Just then—
"Jin. Don't be too discouraged. I'm not exactly sure why you're upset, but…"
Hearing Anna's comforting words, Jin simply shrugged.
"Ah. It's fine."
In truth, he wasn't all that disappointed.
He wasn't the type to cling to things beyond his control anyway.
So, after concluding this fruitless endeavor, he moved to put the light rod away—
Throb.
Jin furrowed his brows at the dull pain in his heart.
Here we go again.
This all started after the arrival of an uninvited newcomer.
Currently, Jin's mental space was just the right size for two inhabitants.
In other words, trying to fit three was a bit too much.
It was inevitable that awkward situations would arise.
Like when one person desperately needed to use the bathroom while another was taking a shower before heading out.
Except this was all happening inside his heart.
Crackle!
Frustrated by the cramped space, Polar Radiance sparked with irritation.
Fwoosh.
Meanwhile, the White Flame expressed its discomfort in a more subdued manner.
And then, the newest tenant, [Light of the Old Era], settled in.
Compared to the older brothers, its power was insignificant, but it still took up space.
Naturally, as the three forces clashed and jostled against each other, the tightness in Jin's chest was only growing worse.
At least try to get along, will you?
Muttering to himself, Jin suddenly frowned.
Wait a second.
If just three forces were enough to overwhelm his mental space…
What would happen if he tried to take in more?
Wouldn't his mental space just tear apart?
And that wasn't an exaggeration.
Gasp.
Only now did Jin realize that he had been actively attempting suicide.
Forget some grand unification of arcane magic—
He had almost gotten himself killed.
That meant deepening his mental space had to be the priority.
For the sake of securing a comfortable living space for his tenants—
And for the battles to come—
Jin needed to push forward in this second world he stood upon.
Just as he closed his eyes and sank into deep introspection—
Bzzzz.
The vibration from his terminal resonated against his chest.
Annoyed, he scrunched up his nose and opened his eyes.
He checked the screen, rummaging through his thoughts.
A single message had arrived.
From someone he had momentarily forgotten.
[This is Wonder. I've completed the upgrade on Gravis, as you requested. I'd like to deliver it to you in person. Where should I go?]