The Greatest Warrior Of All Time Returns

Episode 2

I could do it.

Without hesitation, I destroyed my body, breaking everything I had.

In the process, I learned how to change things within me to avoid destruction.

I created and discarded countless aura cultivation techniques.

I made dozens of sword techniques until I finally developed one worth using.

Failure meant death.

Through countless trials, I created a better, sharp sword.

At the same time, I fought monsters endlessly.

Fortunately, weaker monsters became easier to subdue, allowing me to train or heal in between battles.

I often used goblins and trolls—goblins because they were weak, and trolls because they regenerated quickly.

They wouldn’t die even if I didn’t kill them.

After reaching the level of Sword Expert, low-level monsters became no threat.

While researching how to survive as an Expert, I developed a cultivation technique focused on body enhancement.

At that point, I thought I was invincible.

That was until I hit my first wall.

I called it “The Newbie cutter.”

The Guardian—an unstoppable foe—repeatedly cut me down.

After countless defeats, I realized I had to discard everything I had built up and start over.

What I’ve built up has failed again.

Though my mind felt like breaking, the world didn’t allow me to go insane.

So, I let go of it all again—my cultivation techniques, my aura cycles, and even my swordsmanship.

Then, I crafted a new sword technique solely to defeat it.

Hundreds, thousands of times I tried.

But what I could create alone wasn’t enough.

So, I stole from it.

I memorized its swordsmanship after dying countless times and mimicked it.

In a way, it became my first teacher.

At first, I lost in a single strike.
Then 10 strikes, 100, and eventually 1,000.

Each defeat revealed ways to improve.

So, I discarded my swordsmanship once more and rebuilt it.

Every time I created a new technique or cultivation method, it took a lifetime’s worth of effort.

At some point, I no longer shed tears but felt blood pouring instead.
When my body broke from failure, I started over again.

Over time, I discovered shortcuts.

“Oh, I can train faster this way.”

“Oh, I can avoid dying by doing this during training.”

The number of attempts piled up endlessly.

And finally, I defeated the Guardian and surpassed the wall of the Sword Master.

The Sword Master—a living weapon, a walking disaster.

Reaching that level revealed new horizons.

So, I discarded everything once again.

Being a Sword Master?

If I couldn’t overcome the next challenge, I wouldn’t move forward.

I devoted myself again to becoming a Sword Master—twelve times over.
Only then did I move on, satisfied.

The monsters that appeared afterward made the Guardian seem like child’s play.

Unimaginable battle strategies.

Terrifying destructive power and bizarre abilities.

Ah, my first teacher, the Guardian, was now useless.

“Teacher, you’re out!”

I continued training to defeat the next monsters that appeared.

—

Beep!

Name: Leo Cascadia
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Ability: Hall of Swords – Mind Master (Beginner)
(Learned skills available for viewing.)

When did it start?

Even though the Guardian was at a level where a simple swing could cut my head off, I felt something strange.

I was supposed to be a slow learner.

When did my growth speed up so much?

I kept pondering this until my head was severed again.

Yet, I didn’t stop thinking.

As goblins charged at me again, I broke their limbs without hesitation and continued to reflect.

Finally, I came to a conclusion.

Regardless of whether one is a genius or not, humans adapt when they invest an immense amount of time and effort.

I had adapted to the process of wielding a sword and growing stronger.

From that point on, things progressed more smoothly.

I repeatedly encountered unbeatable monsters, learned through trial and error, and reset countless times until I reached the next stage beyond Sword Mastery: the realm of mental transcendence or Mind Mastery.

This realm governed the vast truths of the world.

Along the way, I met a second master, another sword-wielding monster, and began learning from him as well.

The endless cycle continued—I surpassed him and moved forward.

Then I met a third master, then a fourth.

But from Mind Mastery onward, growth wasn’t as simple as just finding another master.

Each step forward became harder, slower, and required more from me.

As time passed, I began to question if I had fundamentally changed or if I was simply going crazy.

Despite the madness, I stuck to my original determination.

My masters weren’t always swordsmen.

Sometimes, they were beings of extraordinary power or strange creatures.

I created new techniques to defeat enemies that couldn’t be killed by physical means.

Over time, I surpassed even the legendary Grand Master rank.

However, the next stage—the ultimate realm—was still far off.

To reach it, I needed techniques and styles perfectly tailored to me.

I discarded countless techniques, each of which could have made others Grand Masters, because they didn’t suit me.

Eventually, I created my own sword style and technique.

I named it the ‘Nameless Sword’.

It was uniquely mine.

Then, I encountered a strange monster.

Its form was difficult to describe—neither man nor beast, child nor adult.

It didn’t matter, though.

What mattered was that we had to fight.
And I lost miserably.

Despite the crushing defeat, I didn’t give up.

What else could I do if I gave up? I picked up my sword again and challenged it repeatedly until I eventually overcame it.

As I continued, I faced master after master, defeating them all.

At the end of it all, I stood before a massive presence that simply gazed at me silently.

This being wasn’t a master in the traditional sense—it was a manifestation of power I could never truly understand or learn from.

After countless challenges and attempts, I defeated it.

Finally, I witnessed a change in this endless labyrinth.

“Congratulations. You have achieved the pinnacle of swordsmanship.”

The labyrinth’s system acknowledged my accomplishment.

I had reached the ultimate level in the Sword Hall.

But strangely, I felt there was something even beyond this—another level above.

The idea was so overwhelming that I quickly pushed it aside.

It didn’t matter. I could leave now, right?

“Is this the end? Is it finally over?” I shouted at the system like a madman.

The system responded calmly.

“You have completed all your achievements and trials. Would you like to exit the Sword Hall?”

But something felt wrong.

The system’s words implied there was more.

A terrible unease washed over me.

“What? Are you saying there’s another level after this?” I yelled, gripped by fear.

The system continued as if it was stating the obvious.

“You have completed the Sword Hall. You will now move to the Hall of Emptiness.”

“No! Stop! I’m not doing this anymore!”

That day, I screamed louder than I ever had.

The labyrinth was relentless.

The Sword Hall wasn’t the final destination—it was just one part of this endless nightmare.

“Warning. Your identity is destabilizing. Mental intervention may become impossible.”

“Shut up! Do you expect me to repeat this hell over and over? Just kill me already!”

The system paused briefly before presenting a new option.
“We propose a solution, visitor Leo Cascadia.”

“What is it? Speak!”

“We will temporarily seal all memories of your experience in the Sword Hall.”

“What?”

The system explained its plan.

My memories would be sealed, and my soul divided into multiple parts to simultaneously challenge every hall.

Once all halls were completed, my memories would be gradually restored.

“So, I’ll clear them all at the same time?”

“Yes. Memories will return sequentially after completion to prevent mental overload.”

I weighed my options.

My memories and achievements would be sealed, but I would eventually reclaim them all.

This would reduce the burden while allowing me to progress.

“Fine. Let’s do it,” I said, my resolve hardening.

As I agreed, a blinding light engulfed me, and I felt my consciousness blur.

My soul fragmented into countless pieces, each sent to a different hall.

Though strange and unsettling, the sensation quickly faded.

Then, everything went dark.