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Chapter 17
Chapter 17. Genius (4)
Genius.
Those who surpassed the expectations of ordinary humans, who pioneered unknown realms or methods others could not imagine, who presented better solutions, or who produced results that left competitors far behind—people showing creative and unique mental ability.
That was the dictionary definition.
But Liam’s idea of a genius was different.
Е̇n ǔ ḿӑ . іd̂
「Do not grow too arrogant, young descendant.」
His true meaning of genius was this:
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「Nothing has ended yet.」
Those who found answers no matter the difficulty. Like protagonists of knightly novels.
***
One minute remained.
W̊ ě b̈n̆ o vе l̀ Ënū m̃ а
Sixty seconds if counted by the second. A short time.
But I could not be certain of victory. The Black Bride had taken an unexpected wound to her shoulder. But in other words, the “problem” I had inflicted upon her ended there. In contrast, my problems were…
‘My stamina is nearly gone.’
I had forced my breathing to keep up with a Sword Walker’s sword, exhausting my strength. Because of the wound to my side, I could no longer use Mary’s flexible movements. My stamina drained, my second heart was not as firm as before.
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So, in exchange for wounding her shoulder, I had lost too much. At this moment I was reduced to an ordinary Sword Beginner.
‘Can I really do it?’
Ѐnum̌_a
The needle had already been flung to the ground. All that remained in my hand was the assassin’s dagger. A pitiful blade, utterly insufficient to face a true swordswoman head-on.
“Hoo, ha—”
But no matter the situation, I could not give up. I forced my breath into order and glared at the Black Bride. She turned her body very slowly, the eyes through her helm cold enough to chill the spine.
With her gaze, countless roads spread out. I pulled back and thought.
‘I cannot repeat the technique I used with Fang just now.’
Because I still did not understand the special skill to pierce a Sword Walker’s Road. The digestion of Fang was incomplete, still in progress. The blade was stronger than Needle but still imperfect.
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“Hoo—”
I fled desperately from her Roads. But I could not run forever.
‘She’s too fast.’
She no longer walked. She ran, with the total power of a superhuman, a speed beyond human limits.
Knowing it was only a matter of time before she caught me, I turned and aimed Fang at her. To survive I had to observe directly, doubt, and predict perfectly.
A drop of blood fell from her shoulder. Before it touched the ground, her sword stormed in.
Ӗn u m̃ à.
I had predicted the trajectory. Sparks flew with a sharp clang.
But her sword did not stop there. Since her eyes had changed, her sword had become violent.
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Her blade slid off and came flying again, the long edge scraping against my short dagger with a grinding screech.
Her refined and beautiful swordsmanship now sought my wrist. I twisted my hand, broke her line, and instead of retreating I stepped in. I thrust without hesitation.
“……!”
She planted her foot, spun like a dancer, and evaded. Her sword swept out with her turn.
Е num а. і d
I barely dodged the horizontal swing, only to face a straight strike from my blind spot. I blocked with my dagger, forced my tense body into an awkward twist, and rolled to escape.
She pursued swiftly. Retreating again and again, I slammed against the opposite wall of the arena. I bit my lip against the faint pain. Pressing my soles against the wall, I leapt high.
I soared over her. Like an acrobat.
She spun immediately and charged again. Like a rabbit fleeing a lion, I looked like nothing but a frail prey forced to run for life.
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Clang!
The more exchanges, the more wounds covered my body. My stamina hit rock bottom, blood soaked my clothes, weighing me down. The ground dragged me downward.
Е̊n u m а . i.d̈
Clang!
But I did not lose focus. I had to face her. Only by facing could I resist.
Clang!
My Mana Heart was weakening, unable to supply enough mana. My steel heart faltered, perhaps close to shattering.
Yet I still had to stand. Then Liam’s voice resounded.
「Young descendant.」
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I twisted my dagger and deflected her sword. My elbow screamed with pain.
「Do you know what genius means?」
Not only my elbow. My knees, my thighs felt as if they would break apart.
「To me, a genius is one who finds answers no matter the hardship.」
「To put it bluntly—you lack the talent to be a genius.」
Perhaps it was meaningless to mention parts. My whole body felt like it was falling apart. It hurt. So much.
W̆е b̌ nо̃ v ёl̄ Е nǔ m а
「But the most praised in this continent are not geniuses.」
Still I did not step back.
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「Geniuses do great things, record glorious deeds in history, earn respect from many.」
「But there are those who are praised even more.」
Still I did not give up.
「They do not find perfect answers in hardship. Yet they never give up.」
Ẅ e b̌nо̀ v̆ е́ l Ë nu̇m̈à
「They never back down.」
I felt my heated body cool. The footsteps of the Black Bride rang clear.
「Such people achieved things too great to be credited to any single individual.」
「People call what they achieved—legends.」
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Has one minute not passed yet? Was time slowing?
I breathed in. Instinct told me: this was my last breath. This strike would be the last my body could muster.
Е̄ n ŭ mа.і d
「Then do you know what those who achieved legends are called?」
Could this poor strike hold back her violence? I had no certainty. Doubt filled me.
「Heroes.」
But I could not step back. With a dagger aimed, I spoke to her.
“Come.”
Silence spread.
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「You have the talent to be a Hero, young descendant.」
Thud. She stomped the sand, her Roads stretching to bind me. They were fierce but not firm, weakened by her shoulder wound.
If not for that wound, my limbs would already have been severed. Despite myself, I laughed.
With the last strength, the last thrill of my second heart, the last sword my body could swing. By logic, a strike with only squeezed remnants of power should be feeble.
But this sword shattered my logic. My second heart thundered powerfully. My sinking body rose, my muscles surged. My eyes widened.
The world slowed. And I saw a line. A line that divided everything in the mist of blue haze. Drawn to it, I thrust.
Еǹ ūm̆ ӑ . і̀d
Her splendid snake-like sword met my dagger.
Screech.
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“……!”
This time, my Fang did not give way. It pushed her sword back. Like steel. Like unbreakable iron.
And Liam’s words surfaced.
Karavan grew greater the more they fought. Like steel hardened by hammering.
E̊ n u m а̌. і d̆
Perhaps I too had neared greatness.
“What—”
Her eyes shook violently. I was certain. She could not stop this blow. This Fang was firmer than any sword I had ever swung. It would not break.
And then…
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「Ah.」
Was not a genius one who found answers in hardship?
Е n̄ u m̊ а .і̄ d̄
「A little. Just a little short, young descendant.」
The gladiator, the Black Bride. The genius had indeed found an answer.
「The talent of geniuses is always violent.」
Her waist bent, her body lowered, her muscles stretched supple like a woman’s. Then she revealed—my strike.
“…Like this.”
From a strange angle, an acrobatic thrust like lightning. Mary the swordswoman’s Needle. She reproduced it. Far more refined, beautiful, and deadly than I ever had.
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“Ah…”
My dagger did not fall on her. It only scratched her helm.
In return, her sword pierced my abdomen. My insides burned as strength fled. My legs gave way, and I slumped to the sand.
And—「Do not be too disappointed, child.」
Roars erupted from the stands.
“Time is over! The victor is the Little Gladiator Liam!”
Е n̊ ŭm̈а . і̃ď
Liam smiled down at me.
「You survived again. Survive, and next time you will win.」
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His face blurred.
「As I always said—you carry Steel Blood.」
I fainted.
From this moment, the Little Gladiator Liam would wear the Silver Medal in the Arena!
Е̃ ñ um̃ а̂ .іd̆
***
“From this moment, the Little Gladiator Liam will wear the Silver Medal in the Arena!”
Cheers rang. The Black Bride, Seol Yoon, looked down at the fallen boy.
Was he always this small? By size alone, he looked like a girl. Like her. And yet—how could he be so firm?
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The girl grew curious. As she thought, she realized—‘Once I hold a sword, I can never be merciful.’
Since childhood, it has been that way. Once she held a blade, she became violent, as if devoured by it. Some called it talent, some called it madness.
Eñ ü m ӓ. і d̆
This time her madness had not raged, but it was still dangerous. Especially his last strike. If she had not suppressed her desire, her blade would have pierced his neck, not his abdomen.
‘Though that was what let me win.’
To evade his last thrust and imitate that strange swordplay—that had been instinct. Not reason. Instinct. Like breathing.
As she stared, a voice echoed in her head.
– Black Bride, this is against our agreement. We cannot give you the Dragon Sword if you have lost.
– But our deal is not yet over. Cut off his arm now.
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– If you take the fallen Little Gladiator’s arm as a trophy, then the Dragon Sword shall be yours.
It was the voice of the Arena’s planner. With magical means it resounded, urging her to defile the rules and mutilate her downed foe.
But Seol Yoon could not. No matter how she desired the Dragon Sword, how could she stain a fight already finished?
‘This place is disgusting. I don’t want to stay longer.’
She bit her lip. The planner continued to press.
Then—
Е̄n̄ ũ m̃ а̃ .і̂d
“……?”
She saw something strange. Something that had not been there before.
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‘Am I hallucinating?’
Above the fallen boy stood a translucent old man. With kind eyes he looked down at him, and then lifted his face to meet hers.
「So, you can see me, young girl.」
「Whether because my descendant’s spirit has dimmed, or because you crossed blades with him so fiercely—I do not know.」
Ê nu m̀а
She gasped, her breath catching. Just from eye contact, her heart stopped for a moment.
「Among Eastern women, some had a strong sight for souls. Those said to carry shaman blood.」
「Such ones, neither inheritors of Karavan blood nor witches of the Sky Empire, could still perceive me.」
Though his hair was white with age, his eyes gleamed sharp, like a lion.
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「With your gift, we shall meet one day in the Land of Swords.」
He shimmered like a mirage. Yet Seol Yoon knew instinctively he was no illusion. Because.
Ŵе̊_b̆ ń ӧv̀е́ l Е̃ n̂ u m̄ å
「I shall give thanks another day, for the fine duel you gave my descendant.」
She felt the sword from him. The sign of a Swordmaster. Proof of a transcendent who reached the limit of the sword.
And she felt.
「You will not spread word of today’s meeting, will you, young girl?」
From him radiated not one sword, but countless. Truly countless. A height no Swordmaster of history had reached.
“…Ah.”
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That day, Seol Yoon glimpsed the fragment of the greatest Swordmaster, vanished from history.
And she thought:
“The legend was real.”
She no longer desired the Dragon Sword of the Arena. Such things were gone from her mind.
Watching the Little Gladiator carried to recovery, her eyes shone like jewels.
“There truly are immortals.”
Е̌ n̈ úm ӓ
***
The Little Gladiator Liam’s Promotion Match ended. It was merely a Bronze Medal fighter advancing to Silver, yet that match became a sensation. Had not a Sword Beginner triumphed against a Sword Walker?
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And against an undefeated gladiator! The Little Gladiator was a rare new star, a bold warrior who shattered the Arena’s malice of “rookie-stomping” and “executions.”
Those who revered Goddess Refri, could not help but be thrilled. The underdog’s victory always electrified the crowd.
Because of this, Liam gained fame far greater than a simple Silver Medal fighter deserved.
It was good—but with side effects.
Е n̆ũmа̌
For example,
“…What did you say?”
“I want to be with you, Little Gladiator.”
The Black Bride, Seol Yoon, knelt before Arhan and pleaded earnestly.
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“You can make my dream come true. If I can be with you, I will do anything. Truly, anything.”
Just awakened, Arhan could only stare blankly at the girl bowing her head. He muttered sincerely.
Ẇ e b̌ n̆o v̌e l̀ Е̂ ṅŭm а
“…What the hell is this?”
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