A clash between the Sword Saint and the Queen of the Warrior Kingdom looked, to me and to the others, like a battle of life and death.
Sivanaira—the one who had just stood before me with the aura of a monarch and the calm of a great leader—was now swinging her blade, filled with a dense Sword's Intent, her voice cracking between anger and grief, tears streaming endlessly down her face.
And the Sword Saint? He did not respond.
He only moved with silence, dodging her strikes as though he were dancing with a shadow he refused to wound.
As always, he had no passion for anything but an equal fight.
I stood watching from the doorway, with Maria behind me holding back Kugssa, who nearly rushed in, while Junia remained silent, gazing at the scene as if it were the first dramatic quarrel she had ever witnessed.
I strained my ears, trying to catch the words scattered between the clashing steel and screams.
"Traitor… cold-hearted… why did you do this to me?!"
"You said you would never leave me…"
"Why did you choose that path instead of choosing me?!"
With every word her strikes grew heavier, the tiles beneath her feet cracking apart, while the Sword Saint's movements remained calm—never attacking, never harming, never even stepping closer.
Dust filled the hall, her Sword's Aura bursting with every sob, yet he looked neither afraid nor pained.
The Sword Saint was silent.
Then came the final strike, drawn from the depths of her heart, as though she wanted to sever her bond with him once and for all. It missed—crashing into the wall and shattering part of it.
She froze.
Her sword trembled in her hands before it fell.
And she fell with it, onto her knees.
The queen wept, unable to contain it anymore.
Tears of a woman who had not cried in years, but did now, before a man who had never been hers.
"Why… why didn't you say anything? You never tried to explain, never tried to come back… even now, you just look at me… as if I'm a stranger."
Her words were enough for me to understand.
The Sword Saint, who had stayed silent the whole time, walked toward her.
But not to comfort her—
to pass by her.
He left her kneeling there and walked out of the hall until he reached me.
When I met his eyes, there was no triumph, no sorrow…
only that same emptiness I had grown used to—the void that only the sword could fill.
He spoke quietly, as if nothing had happened but a fleeting summer storm.
"I rejected her love long ago."
He paused, then continued:
"I am unfit for bonds. I never sought someone to share my path, only the path itself—the Path of the Sword."
Even a genius like him cared for nothing but the sword.
I understood—following one's path often costs most of one's life.
No… if I were in his place, I might have chosen the same.
I didn't argue. Those who choose their path over everything else can never be moved by ordinary words.
But still…
"Maybe she was waiting for a single word. Nothing more."
He shook his head, as if he had heard that countless times before, and walked away.
I looked back at the hall. Maria and Kugssa had gone to Sivanaira, offering a handkerchief or anything to help, but she seemed blind to them. She only whispered:
"Why did he leave? Why can't I hate him?"
Then she left.
.....
Later, when Maria and Kugssa came out of the castle, the Sword Saint was not with us.
He had asked to walk alone.
Junia, meanwhile, watched everything like it was some real-life drama.
We gave the incident the silence it deserved.
But inside, I couldn't stop thinking—
about things I had chosen to bury long ago, but which this world had forced me to face again and again.
How love could drive someone to madness.
How bonds could twist into something so tangled.
And how someone like me might use love as an excuse to destroy what was precious to others.
I looked at Kugssa, gazing at the sky, and Maria, silent as if lost in faraway thoughts.
Maybe each of us carried something unspoken.
And our bonds had already become this complicated.
All I could do was protect what was mine—these ties, and the ones I would forge.
...…
The darkness of night faded as the light of dawn broke.
The sun rose once more.
Two days passed since that incident, filled with nothing but simple events: wandering, shopping in the markets, resting after long fatigue.
The Sword Saint, who had vanished during that time, finally appeared before me, wanting to speak.
I left Maria to guide the two girls through the markets, and followed him.
We stood on a hill overlooking a lively garden where elders strolled, children played, and merchants worked their carts.
Together we watched the city from above in silence.
After minutes, he whispered, almost to himself:
"Was I too cruel?"
I didn't need to ask what he meant. I knew he spoke of Sivanaira.
"No, you weren't cruel. Everything you did seemed simply… your nature."
He looked at me, his eyes uncertain.
"Following the Path of the Sword sometimes means hurting someone simply because you refused to lie to them… doesn't it?"
This sword-obsessed fool…
SIGH...
"Seeking strength for a dream or goal… isn't wrong. But truth is, not every heart is ready to understand you right away. If you abandoned your path just to spare her pain, would that have been love… or weakness?"
Even if I had done worse things, I didn't want him to sink into despair.
"Maybe she doesn't hate you. Even in her worst pain, she never did. Maybe she just waited for something—a word, a glance, even a simple apology."
Silence fell between us, as if he wanted me to say it.
"Go, you fool."
He blinked in surprise.
"Go tell her what should have been said. Don't beg for forgiveness—just tell her you weren't ready for love. That alone is enough."
The Sword Saint smiled—a faint, lonely smile of one who had lived too long in solitude.
Then he left.
...…
Minutes passed.
I thought it ended peacefully.
Then...
A sharp scream.
Shattering glass. Guards rushing. Another scream.
I sighed. That fool who knows nothing but the sword…
"He ruined the apology… again."
But this time, the cries were softer, less bitter.
Different.
Muffled laughter, confused shouting, even gentle curses.
Perhaps this was their way of understanding one another.
Some people don't need to be understood—just heard.
Strange people indeed.
...…
Hours later, the Sword Saint appeared before me again, brushing his clothes as if stepping out of a storm, yet somehow looking content.
"Is it over?" I asked.
"In a way," he answered.
Then he looked at me with a rare smile.
"I won't be traveling with you anymore."
I wasn't surprised. I had expected this.
He had followed me for days without training on the new things he'd learned of the Path of the Sword.
"So we part ways here…"
I paused, then asked:
"Will you return to her?"
"No."
"Will you think of her?"
"Always."
Watching such a love story unfold before me… was oddly entertaining.
He raised his hand, and I shook it.
His grip was strangely warm, as though something inside him had finally been set free.
"Take care of yourself, you who burden swords with your thoughts."
"I think I burden more than just swords…"
And he walked away, his steps fading along the dusty road beyond the kingdom.
...…
Now I was alone.
No more long debates or philosophical discussions—just me, my disciples, and Junia.
Since his departure, I had found no rest.
Days passed wandering, from taverns to markets, farms to old towers, gardens to city walls.
Even the girls began to wonder about my endless roaming.
It was as though I were searching for something… without knowing what.
At times I stopped, staring at an old window, a hanging shield, a child training with a wooden stick.
But I found nothing.
Perhaps because I was on the edge of many events… or on the verge of a lull amidst this storm.
I pretended to be at ease, but in truth, I was restless.
Distracted.
As if something were slipping through my fingers.
And the closer I reached, the more it vanished.
One night, standing on the roof of a small inn, gazing at the kingdom's sleepless skies, a thought struck me—
"The Black Stone…"
I remembered the strange stone said to have been in the Sword Saint's possession.
I had wanted to ask him.
I had been about to…
but I didn't.
Pressing my forehead, regret struck me.
"I should have asked…"
What was that stone? Where did it come from? And why was it with him?
But the chance never came amid all that had happened.
And the man with the answer was gone.
Perhaps one day, if I meet him again, I'll know.
Or perhaps I'll meet the Virtue of Wrath first.
For now, I had less than a week to wait for what the queen would tell me about Lady Anya.
And in these remaining days, I knew I would face things greater than mere searching…
Because I was about to meet the one who had once been my greatest idol.