TRAIGS - Chapter 745

Krein bit his lip as he watched Raon’s execution of the Infinite Sword, which had evolved into something far beyond his own understanding of the technique.

‘They always said to give up when you meet a true genius.’

This was advice he’d received from an instructor during his trainee days when he struggled to keep up with Raon and Burren.

Back then, he’d nodded and said he understood, but deep down, he hadn’t accepted it.

‘I thought I had talent too.’

Who would agree, at twelve years old, that others are inherently different and that catching up to geniuses is impossible?

Believing he had some unique talent, Krein had pushed himself relentlessly, day and night.

‘But instead of catching up, the gap just kept growing.’

The distance between himself and even Burren, Martha, and Runaan widened so much that their backs were no longer visible. The harder he tried, the more crushing the realization became.

‘That’s when I learned mental anguish hurts more than physical pain.’

Finally, he understood his instructor’s advice. Striving to chase geniuses only made the pain sharper and more unbearable. It had been advice born of compassion for his future self.

After realizing he wasn’t special, Krein adjusted his efforts, doing just enough to remain in the middle of the pack.

He wasn’t untalented, so it wasn’t difficult to keep up with the training regimen.

That was how he moved from a trainee to a member of the Light Wind Division, while Raon rose to the position of deputy division leader.

Raon began teaching the division members himself, claiming he wanted to grow stronger together. The training was grueling, but it guaranteed real growth.

‘Still, back then, his words weren’t entirely sincere.’

Krein, who had always been perceptive to others’ feelings, knew this.

When Raon declared he wanted to grow stronger alongside everyone, it wasn’t entirely genuine. Whether it was pity, compassion for those without talent, or even a calculated move to use them, his feelings hadn’t been true back then.

But over time, Raon had changed.

Just as Raon had grown fond of Dorian, whom he’d once dismissed as slow and frustrating, he’d begun to show genuine care for everyone.

Raon’s emotions—his desire to grow stronger together and his determination to lose no one—now burned vividly and sincerely.

‘That’s why I changed too.’

Being quick to notice such things was Krein’s only advantage.

Even as Raon pressed him relentlessly, Krein didn’t take his eyes off Raon’s sword, determined to absorb everything and grow stronger.

‘If I can’t figure it out by watching, I’ll try imitating it.’

Finding no answers from observation alone, Krein began mimicking Raon’s stances and movements with the Infinite Sword.

‘Huh…?’

Though he could picture the sword path in his mind, it felt different.

Raon wasn’t simply performing the Infinite Sword’s stances—he was introducing more variations and enhancements to the technique.

‘Now I see.’

Raon wasn’t just patching up the weaknesses of the phantom, shifting, and rapid elements in the Infinite Sword. He was focusing on one profound principle to maximize its strengths.

After realizing Raon’s sincerity, Krein’s perspective shifted completely.

He no longer dismissed the title of “division leader” as mere words, nor did he begrudge Raon when he pushed him hard. He willingly stepped forward, even when teased for being the “one and only Krein.”

Raon’s promise to grow stronger together was no lie—it was genuine.

‘And it’s the same now.’

Raon wasn’t demonstrating an improved Infinite Sword to show off his talent. He was doing it to help Krein grow.

Krein bit his lip, clashing his Infinite Sword against Raon’s.

‘What’s the difference between my sword and his?’

Raon wasn’t drawing on monstrous physical strength or overwhelming aura. Yet his swordsmanship was incomprehensibly intricate and profound, to the point where it felt impossible to defend against.

‘Think. Think!’

*Chiiiing!*

Focusing entirely on variation, Krein performed the Infinite Sword with more fluidity and adaptability.

*Clang!*

For the first time, his attack met Raon’s sword on equal footing, sparks flying between their blades.

“Don’t just replicate the swordsmanship you’ve learned…”

Krein locked eyes with Raon, continuing his sentence.

“You’re telling me to adapt to the situation, right?”

“Now you get it.”

Raon finally smiled faintly.

“For you, that’s fast.”

Krein had been wielding the Infinite Sword too rigidly, failing to adjust its phantom, shifting, and rapid elements to suit different scenarios. This rigidity made his swordsmanship easier to counter and exploit.

Raon hadn’t directly instructed him, choosing instead to teach through the clash of their blades, leaving Krein to figure it out himself. Judging by Krein’s expression, the lesson had been effective.

“I understand now! Let’s continue!”

Krein adjusted his grip on his sword, eager to keep going.

“No, time’s up.”

Raon pointed to the sun now high in the sky.

“Huh? When…?”

Krein gaped, realizing it was already noon.

“If you’ve identified your weaknesses, you’ll need time alone to address them. I’ll look forward to our next duel.”

Raon patted Krein’s shoulder before leaving the training ground.

“Thank you.”

Krein clasped his hands together and bowed deeply toward Raon’s retreating back.

“Division leader!”

His voice rang clearer than ever before as he called out to Raon.

—

After a quick lunch, Raon returned to the training ground.

Though he thought he’d be the first to return, two others were already there.

One was Krein, who hadn’t even paused for a meal, still immersed in sword training. The other was Dorian, the next participant for the afternoon duel.

“You’re here!”

Dorian approached with a sheepish grin, having only managed to eat some bread for lunch.

“L-let’s start right away!”

Though his hands trembled as he gripped his sword, Dorian adopted a ready stance.

*Sniff!*

Wrath snorted, watching Dorian’s trembling eyes.

-To think the wallet has grown so much. How admirable!-

‘Then stop calling him a wallet. It’s unfair.’

-You’re the one who started calling him that! And you’ve treated him like one too!-

Wrath furrowed his brow, accusing Raon of hypocrisy.

“Your swordsmanship is the Silent Black Sword, correct?”

Pushing Wrath aside, Raon stepped in front of Dorian.

“Show me everything from beginning to end.”

“W-well…” Dorian lowered his sword and hesitated. “I’ve been practicing a new technique for the past few months. Could you take a look at it instead?”

He admitted to training a new style in secret.

“A new technique?”

“It’s the opposite of the Silent Black Sword.”

“Show me.”

At Raon’s nod, Dorian unleashed a fierce, aggressive attack that clashed against the ground.

‘Strong, rapid, wind-like, decisive, and even deadly techniques…’

Each element of Dorian’s new style was highly offensive, the complete opposite of his usually cautious demeanor.

“What’s it called?”

“The Roaring Wave Sword.”

Dorian lowered his gaze, explaining that he’d developed it to overcome his fears.

“Show me the Silent Black Sword too.”

“Y-yes!”

Dorian demonstrated the weighty, defensive stances of the Silent Black Sword, which he had diligently practiced.

“Your Roaring Wave Sword isn’t ready for a duel.”

Raon shook his head calmly.

‘As admirable as it is, I can’t waste time on something half-baked.’

While Dorian’s effort to reinvent himself was commendable, the benefits of training the Roaring Wave Sword didn’t yet outweigh its flaws.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Dorian scratched his head, clearly embarrassed.

“Today’s not your only chance. So…”

Raon pointed to the marks Dorian had carved into the ground with his sword.

“Keep practicing until our next duel. If it reaches a usable level, I’ll take a look at the Roaring Wave Sword too.”

“Understood!”

Dorian bowed deeply, vowing to sleep less if necessary to improve his skill.

“Let’s begin.”

As Dorian raised his head, Raon immediately executed the fourth form of the Silent Black Sword.

*Whoosh!*

The Heavenly Drive swept forward like a shield, targeting Dorian’s chest.

“Huff!”

Though startled by the oncoming strike, Dorian didn’t retreat.

Instead of evading, he recognized the need to block and raised his sword diagonally, assuming a solid defensive stance.

*Clang!*

Though Dorian staggered under the immense power behind Raon’s strike, he held his ground and didn’t falter.

“Defense alone isn’t enough. Think about where the Silent Black Sword’s weight can create the greatest impact.”

Raon followed up with consecutive stances, striking at Dorian’s shoulders, waist, and thighs.

“Huff… Huff…”

The intense shock made Dorian’s eyelids flutter, a nervous instinct to close his eyes taking over. True to his nature, fear made him want to shut everything out.

But Dorian didn’t close his eyes, nor did he step back. Even as he bled from the cuts forming on his body, he swung his sword like an immovable boulder.

“Observe both your sword and mine simultaneously. If you fail to grasp the difference, you’ll remain nothing more than a punching bag.”

Raon’s serene smile lingered as he watched Dorian, who, even in fear, never stopped trying to improve.

‘He’s changed. No, he’s in the process of changing.’

-Change doesn’t occur suddenly, fool.-

Wrath nodded grandly while observing Dorian.

-Only those who are prepared can break through their shells. That fellow has always been watching your back, so it was inevitable that he’d change.-

‘True.’

Some might claim change is abrupt, but in Raon’s experience, that wasn’t the case.

True transformation required a burning desire to better oneself, combined with painstaking effort to climb the ladder of progress step by step.

*Chiiiing!*

Raon executed the sixth form of the Silent Black Sword, targeting Dorian’s waist.

*Clang!*

Rather than retreating from the swiftly descending blade, Dorian stepped forward, delivering a nearly perfect defense. His sword strikes now carried noticeable weight.

“I think I understand now.”

Though Dorian’s hands still trembled as they gripped his sword, his eyes were clear as a tranquil lake.

“Defense changes completely depending on the angle of the blade.”

He murmured to himself, realizing the lesson Raon had been trying to convey.

“And as for offense!”

Dorian suddenly surged forward, launching a heavy, decisive strike. His attack demonstrated his growing understanding of the weight and force Raon had been teaching him to harness.

*Boom!*

Raon’s lips curled upward as he watched Dorian, stepping forward one step at a time despite his fear, and the other swordsmen silently observing his back.

‘It seems…’

These ones will be the quickest to grow.

—

A gray castle, weathered by centuries, stood desolate.

At its highest throne, Derus Robert sat, staring at the bleeding wound on the back of his hand.

‘It’s not healing at all.’

The wounds to his soul inflicted by Glenn, and even the hole pierced through his chest, were slowly mending, but the injury on his hand remained unchanging.

‘The first one, in particular…’

The second wound from his battle with Raon Zieghart was slowly recovering, but the first sword scar from the assassin Raon had left behind showed no signs of healing, even with Uriel’s assistance. It seemed permanently untreatable.

‘I don’t understand.’

Even wounds caused by the Demon King’s powers could be erased, and the damage to his soul from Glenn’s sword had been mending. But why did this injury persist?

‘Uriel…’

He’s hiding something.

Uriel appeared to know more about Raon than he was letting on, but he refused to share that information.

“Tsk.”

Clicking his tongue, Derus flicked the blood from his wound as the doors to the audience chamber opened, and Kubara and Bardiel entered.

“Lord Derus, the headcount is complete,” Bardiel reported, kneeling with his head bowed.

“The Purple Lightning Division, White Frost Division, and Ghost Demon Division have all returned, along with the Shadow Knights and the Black Thunder Division. No personnel were lost.”

“Ten squads of Shadows have also come back, and the Fire-Water Guest Division arrived last night,” Kubara added, bowing low.

“Good work.”

Derus nodded approvingly at Kubara and Bardiel.

‘This is better than expected.’

Thanks to preemptive measures, they’d minimized their losses. Still, the Robert family’s forces being halved was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Is Lord Uriel elsewhere?” Bardiel glanced around the audience chamber, noticing that Derus was alone.

“He vanished, saying he had things to do,” Derus replied, shaking his head. “Don’t concern yourself with him; he’ll manage on his own.”

“What’s the current situation?” He gestured toward Kubara.

“The Six Kings’ meeting—or rather, the Five Kings’ meeting—has labeled you and all of us as continental outlaws. They’ve united the Black Market and neutral factions to suppress the families that once supported us.”

Kubara bowed lower, acknowledging the unfavorable developments.

“As expected,” Derus said, smiling calmly.

“If they’re acting as predicted, it’s only right for us to move unpredictably.”

From beside his throne, Derus flicked four gray letters to Kubara’s feet.

“These are…?”

“Send them to the Five Demons.”

Derus’s lips twisted into a crooked smile.

“If they’ve held a Five Kings’ meeting, we’ll hold a Five Demons’ meeting.”

—

“You’ve done well.”

Glenn nodded as he looked at Raon with a calm expression.

“Mastering the flow of phantom and demonic swordsmanship in just two weeks. You could already use it in real combat without issue. Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you another sword technique, so come prepared.”

He sheathed the Heavenly Tremor Sword and gave a rare word of praise.

“Thank you for your instruction.”

Raon exhaled deeply and sat down where he stood.

‘Did I finally succeed?’

Glenn had been relentlessly critical, testing Raon’s abilities to their limits during training. The lack of any critique today suggested he had passed this particular test.

‘This is… fun.’

-Fun?-

Wrath gawked, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

-You’re calling this fun? Sparring with your division from dawn till night, only to be pummeled by that old man after dark? You’re a true masochist! What’s fun about any of this?-

‘Everything.’

Raon smiled faintly. As Wrath said, he had spent the last two weeks training the Light Wind Division during the day and learning from Glenn at night.

It was exhausting, but feeling his own growth—and that of the Light Wind Division—made it all worth it.

‘It’s far, but not out of reach.’

Transcendence still seemed like a distant peak, but it no longer felt unattainable.

It wasn’t a vague mystery obscured by fog, but a visible summit.

-Hmph!-

Wrath snorted, shaking his head.

-As that old man said, you haven’t even reached the pinnacle of Grandmaster yet! What summit are you talking about? You’re delusional…-

He was about to continue his mockery when suddenly—

[The Soul Requiem Sword has absorbed the energy of the Red Orb.]
[The Soul Requiem Sword purifies its essence.]
[All stats have…]
[New trait unlocked…]

The messages indicating stat increases and a new trait startled Wrath into silence.

-W-what…-

Wrath stammered as his jaw quivered in disbelief.

‘Perhaps it won’t take as long as I thought.’

Raon smirked as he read the updates.

-Silence!-

Wrath shouted, his voice trembling as if holding back tears of frustration.

‘We’ll have a late-night snack after training, so don’t get too upset.’

-A-are you serious? What are we eating?-

‘Nadine bread.’

-Let’s just die. Both of us. Right here.-

Wrath clenched his fists, ready to pounce when Rimmer vaulted over the training ground wall and entered.

“Why do you always climb the wall instead of using the door?”

Glenn frowned, clearly baffled.

“Because the wall is there?” Rimmer tilted his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Haa…”

Glenn sighed, as if deeming a response unworthy of his effort.

“Is training done for today?”

Rimmer grinned as he gestured toward Raon.

“Yes, we just finished.”

Raon dusted off his pants and stood up.

“Then how about a spar with me?”

Rimmer’s green eyes gleamed, tinged with a faint red glow.

“Seriously.”