A Swordsmanship Genius, No Matter What

The adults in our village were, by and large, notorious for their exaggerations.

They called them “adventure tales,” but to me, they were nothing more than tall tales.

“With these fists, I could summon a typhoon, you know?”

He’d say things like that, yet he’d never once demonstrated proper martial arts in front of me.

“Just recently, I personally witnessed the defeat of the Demon King.”

Unlike the boastful tales, the bulky old man’s actual exploits were fairly underwhelming.

At best, he’d occasionally chase away what he claimed to be a Demon King.

Sure, they had horns on their heads, wings sprouting from their backs, menacing faces, hulking bodies, and glowing red eyes. But considering that these “Demon Kings” were subdued and chased off by the bulky old man, they were probably just overgrown drunkards.

One day, I asked the bulky old man:

“Why is it that whenever a so-called Demon King appears, you’re always the one who fights them?”

“What’s a Demon King, you say?”

“I mean those people who claim to be fearsome Demon Kings but are just scary-looking.”

“That’s because my fists are the mightiest of all!”

Not really.

Aunt Rilka said it was just because he was the youngest.

Aunt Rilka, who raised me from a young age, had a hobby of boasting about her husband’s feats.

“You know the Millica Strait? It used to be a part of the continent. He sliced through it with his sword, turning it into a strait.”

For the record, I’ve only seen Uncle Heiser swing his sword once.

Apparently, the bulky old man, being the youngest, couldn’t handle the situation, so Uncle Heiser had to step in. But to this day, I still don’t know what exactly he “handled.”

On a windswept cliff by the sea, Uncle Heiser unsheathed his sword, then swiftly sheathed it again—a technique called “battojutsu.” It was mesmerizing.

“As a man, you must always carry a sword close to your heart.”

That one line struck me deeply.

While everyone around me said, “You were born to master magic!” Uncle Heiser’s words left a lasting impression.

‘I must be destined to become a swordsman.’

Swordsmanship stirred something in me—a romanticism beyond mere fascination.

Though nothing particularly significant happened that day, my heart raced.

I felt as though I’d found my calling, my future path laid clear before me.

Then the village chief, the biggest braggart of them all, yelled:

“What? A strait? You’re filling the boy’s head with nonsense! If you tell him such trivial tales, he’ll grow up weak!”

He claimed that heroic tales should match the child’s potential, fostering imagination and creativity…

But splitting a continent with a sword to create a strait didn’t seem trivial to me.

“Don’t you understand? Your words shape reality for the boy and profoundly impact his mind!”

“So, what should I say? That in the final days of the 30-Year War, I summoned a dust storm that blotted out the sun for seven years?”

Oh boy, here we go again.

“But, Auntie, wouldn’t covering the sun for seven years cause serious problems?”

“Of course! It triggered an ice age and caused absolute chaos. It was centuries ago, but I still feel bad about it. So many plants and animals died because of me… I regret it to this day.”

Next door, the frail Mr. Skelly coughed, “Thanks to that, I was able to raise many fine undead soldiers!” He quickly shut his mouth under Aunt Rilka’s piercing glare.

“Auntie, can you show me that kind of magic?”

Of course, she’d say no.

“Nope, I can’t.”

She’d probably claim it was sealed.

“It’s sealed away.”

She’d say it would cause disasters.

“It’s a magic that brings disaster.”

“Exactly! You’re so sharp, Rian!”

I knew it.

Every time I asked someone to show me something cool, the excuse was always “It’s a disaster-causing magic, so I can’t.”

Splitting a continent to create a strait or plunging the world into an ice age—they came up with such imaginative excuses, yet they lacked sincerity.

“But you might be able to use it one day.”

I let it slide.

Since I was young, the villagers had been saying, “You’re destined to become a great magician.”

Nobody says that anymore, but it used to stress me out.

I didn’t want to be a magician. My dream was to be a swordsman.

Ever since I was captivated by Uncle Heiser’s battojutsu, I’d been learning swordsmanship at his dojo since I was four.

Though, to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was truly learning anything.

Today, instead of swinging a sword, I was sitting cross-legged in meditation.

“Ugh!”

“Focus.”

Uncle Heiser had an uncanny knack for knowing when I lost concentration—and hitting me on the head. That skill of his was truly impeccable.

Like Aunt Rilka said, I wasn’t sure if it was swordsmanship capable of splitting a continent in half.

“I keep telling you, I want to learn swordsmanship!”

“Aren’t you already learning it?”

I felt a bit frustrated.

Swordsmanship involves gripping a sword and swinging it, not sitting in an uncomfortable position meditating for years.

I’d even asked the village elders if this was normal, but it was a pointless endeavor.

“That guy might have a nasty temper, but his swordsmanship is the best. Stick with it, Rian.”

“His swordsmanship might not beat my fists, but it’s worth acknowledging!”

“Well, I… I don’t know much about swordsmanship… cough cough…”

Time passed, and before I knew it, I turned fourteen.

“Have you achieved enlightenment?”

“I’m seeing strange letters.”

Strange characters began to appear before my eyes.

“What do they say?”

“You have entered tutorial mode?”

“Hm.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s nothing. You must’ve also received a unique ability.”

“Instant Kill?”

“Not bad.”

The man’s reaction was indifferent.

I thought this was something everyone experienced upon turning fourteen.

“What’s Instant Kill?”

“It’s a basic skill.”

“Ah, I see.”

I was fourteen years old when I acquired the basics of swordsmanship.

A year passed since I gained my basic skill.

Now, I was finally training in what could actually be called swordsmanship.

Watching me train, the bulky old man burst out laughing.

“See? I told you, you’re a natural-born magician!”

While others refrained from being rude, the bulky old man had no such restraint.

Again with the magician nonsense.

Even after seeing me swing a sword and set a straw dummy ablaze, he insisted I was a magician.

Today’s training involved infusing fire magic into my sword to burn the straw dummy.

“Once again, you’re being disrespectful.”

No matter how badly he wanted me to embrace magic, this was too much.

‘Oh no!’

I swung my burning sword violently to extinguish the flames, but they wouldn’t go out.

“See? You lost focus, and the fire should’ve disappeared, but your overwhelming mana keeps it burning. That’s the essence of a magician. Just how much does mana favor you to let you do this kind of magic?”

“Could you stop distracting me and leave?”

I mean, this wasn’t helping my swordsmanship training at all.

“Think about it, Rian. All you’re doing is swinging a sword, but what you’re actually performing is magic!”

Just then, Uncle Heiser returned from a short trip and spoke calmly.

“No, it’s swordsmanship.”

“But, Heiser, that pure crimson flame… surely, it’s…”

“It’s fire-elemental swordsmanship.”

Uncle Heiser’s firm words silenced the bulky old man.

In the end, lies pale in the face of truth.

No matter how much the bulky old man tried to twist my swordsmanship into magic, the truth wouldn’t change.

“Uncle, this is swordsmanship, right?”

“Of course.”

“Remember this, Rian: everything you perform with your sword is swordsmanship.”

To become the strongest swordsman, I resolved to dedicate myself fully to my training.

At sixteen, the day I became an adult, it was finally time for me to leave the village.

“Adventure, huh…”

It was an old tradition and rule of our village that everyone left for the outside world upon turning sixteen.

Aunt Rilka’s eyes were red and teary.

“For a while, you won’t be able to see us.”

Apparently, I’d have to grow at least as strong as the bulky old man to return to the village.

“Don’t be too sad. We’ll see each other again someday.”

I felt a little bad for Aunt Rilka, but honestly, I wasn’t that sad.

Maybe it was because I’d grown up listening to the villagers’ adventure stories.

At some point, I, too, had started dreaming of adventure.

“Stay safe, watch out for carriages, don’t go into deep water, and don’t bring about another ice age!”

From carriage warnings to ice ages—what a strange leap.

It felt odd, but I didn’t want to argue with Aunt Rilka, who was sobbing her heart out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The villagers came to the entrance of the village to wave me off.

“Rian! Don’t forget, money is the most important thing!”

“Try dark magic sometime; it’s fun! cough cough…”

“See you within 300 years!”

The village chief grumbled again.

“Do you think Rian is as much of a fool as you? He’ll be back in just 100 years!”

Aunt Rilka clasped my hands in hers. It had been a while since she’d held my hands, and her warmth was comforting.

[להתחיל לזמן]

Strange words began to flow from her mouth, and soon a massive golden pillar of light descended from the sky.

‘Huh?’

When I came to my senses, I found myself in the plaza of an unfamiliar village.

Before me, strange letters appeared.

[Starting Village, Erhi]

I worried that my flashy entrance might attract attention, but my concerns were unfounded.

The people bustling about the plaza didn’t seem to care about me at all.

It made sense, considering there were many others emerging from pillars of light just like I had.

‘So, they must all be starting their adventures too.’

Meanwhile, a small, pufferfish-shaped spirit was circling around me.

Hey!
Hey, summoner!
Can’t you hear me? You’re not that much of an idiot, are you?

The spirit kept mumbling to itself while circling me, so I decided to speak first.

“Hello?”

The spirit froze mid-air. Its body stiffened, its eyes widened, and it puffed up dramatically.

You… you can see me? No, really, you can see me?

“I can see you just fine.”

That’s… strange. My seniors told me I wouldn’t be visible…

How could this thing not be visible?

I didn’t know why it thought that way, but I decided to comfort (?) it.

“I guess I just have really good eyesight.”

Ah-ha!

The pufferfish spirit seemed to accept my explanation quite easily.

It conjured a magic circle, pulled out a small piece of paper, glanced at it, and then suddenly shouted.

You must have a remarkable aptitude. But don’t think you’re special because of it, rookie!

Its attempt at acting dignified was oddly endearing.

Curious, I snatched the paper from the spirit’s fins and read it. The title read: Guide’s Manual.

[It’s rare, but some summoners can see their guides immediately upon summoning. In such cases, it’s important to maintain a commanding presence to avoid losing authority.

Example: You must have a remarkable aptitude. But don’t think you’re special because of it, rookie!]

“Give that back, rookie!”

The pufferfish spirit was visibly flustered as it frantically scanned the guide’s manual.

I waited to see what it would do next, and soon enough, it found another passage.

You should feel honored to meet me at Level 1, kid. I’m the most legendary lich in history—a dark wizard so terrifying that empires trembled at my name! The commander of ten million undead! If it weren’t for the heartfelt plea of the esteemed Pontol Pontol, I wouldn’t have bothered to meet you!

“Pontol Pontol?”

The name sounded familiar.

Ah, right—it was the name of the skeleton man who lived next door to me back in the village.

He always strolled around looking frail, constantly coughing with chronic fatigue.

Talk of ten million undead and legendary liches? Those were just the same tall tales I’d heard all my life.

‘Unbelievable! Someone actually fell for that nonsense!’

You are a being summoned directly from another world. A Level 1 summoner. I am your guide, Sir Pontol, as you can see—a pufferfish spirit!

I poked the spirit’s belly with my finger.

“You should speak more respectfully, you little thing.”

Apparently, it was very ticklish, as the spirit burst into uncontrollable laughter.