"Phew."
Staring at the half-finished bottle of Roselixir, Isaac worked to calm the heat surging within him.
So this must be what they mean when they talk about vitality coursing through your body.
He could sense that even in small amounts, mana had started to accumulate inside him.
'A shame, but it's probably just a one-time effect.'
If he had to describe it, it felt like he was 'swallowing mana'. Normally, Isaac was skeptical of such fleeting, one-off powers.
But for the great event looming ahead, he had to be willing to bend even his own convictions.
Inside the half-empty Roselixir was the 'Spirit Vein Ginseng'.
Now soaked with the Roselixir's energy and glowing red, it exuded an ominous, almost eerie aura.
'It really is something rare.'
The Roselixir's energy was so intense that it was taking time, but the Spirit Vein Ginseng was relentlessly devouring it with a bottomless hunger.
It reminded Isaac strangely of himself during his 'Silent Sword' days—madly devouring every book he could find, desperate to gain knowledge of the blade.
'So this is what raising a plant feels like?'
Except this "plant" was far too aggressive and consumed far too many nutrients.
'Maybe I should grow a garden later.'
Just as he'd once bloomed a rose in Helmut, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to raise a special flower in his own estate.
When that time came… maybe life wouldn't be as hectic as it was now.
"..."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"To think I've finally reached a point in life where I can have thoughts like this."
He remembered the hopeless days.
Somehow, he'd clawed his way through them—step by step—and arrived here.
If you asked whether he did everything well along the way, the answer would be no.
His journey had been one paved with regrets upon regrets.
There were times he'd thought—
*If I were given just one more chance…*
Even though he had already been given a second chance at life, the saying was true: human greed knows no bounds.
He'd sometimes wondered if he could do better if he tried again.
But no.
*'If that time ever came… I'd end up losing something else instead.'*
Someone beside him now might disappear instead.
And so, Isaac decided—he would no longer regret.
Just a little farther now.
Steeling his resolve, Isaac tucked the vial back into his belt.
Then came the commotion outside.
"Issac! Isaac! Come here!"
At Sharen's urgent voice, Isaac sighed.
Yesterday she'd called him the same way, only to drag him to Bella's Bakery and beg for pastries.
He tried to ignore it, but there was more than one presence outside.
"…Is something actually going on?"
When he stepped out, people were already gathered.
Not just the Helmut sisters who lived with him—but also Silverna, and even the Grandmaster.
But what caught Isaac's attention more than any of these women was, of course—
"Haha."
"..."
The two master craftsmen who had been bickering and brawling at the forge every day:
Antonio and Lapillon.
And in Antonio's hands—an item wrapped in luxurious cloth.
The moment he saw it, Isaac knew what it was.
"…Ah."
A sigh—almost a gasp of wonder—escaped him.
He had known it was coming, and yet it still felt like receiving an unexpected gift.
Though he'd been expecting it, the reason his heart still trembled like this must be because he had been longing for it that much.
He carefully reached out and took it into his hands.
It was heavier than expected—filling both hands completely.
But perhaps because of that weight, he could feel just how much he had grown.
"Due to the nature of Jingol Steel, it's inevitably heavier than your last sword. I reduced the weight as much as possible… but will you be alright with it?"
Knowing how much Isaac valued weight and balance, Antonio asked with concern.
But Isaac didn't reply.
No—rather, it would be more accurate to say he didn't hear the question at all.
Silently, he unwrapped the cloth.
And laid eyes on the sword within.
A sleek black blade, trimmed with crimson—an elegant design laced with subtle flair.
Forged with Helmut steel by Helmut's exclusive artisan.
But it wasn't the massive greatsword that symbolized Helmut.
It was a slender sword.
A sword made for Isaac, in the name of Helmut.
Who could truly understand what that meant to him?
This was no mere weapon.
Why had he taken up the sword?
What was that first step he took when he began wielding it?
This—this was the answer.
Helmut's recognition.
Even if it wasn't a greatsword—
Helmut was acknowledging and honoring 'Isaac Logan's sword'.
At the corner of Isaac's lips was no smile—only a faint, bittersweet breath.
This was it.
He had arrived.
His quiet exhale echoed like a mountain wind—soft, but with a depth that stirred everyone present, leaving a subtle shiver in their hearts.
"Ink-Blood Sword."
Watching him, Lapillon softly whispered the name of the sword.
"It means a blade soaked in ink-black and blood."
"I named it myself."
The Grandmaster proudly raised a thumb and pointed it at herself.
Ink-black and blood.
It felt like a fitting, symbolic name for the long path Isaac had walked until now.
"…But did the name have to be that dramatic?"
Sharen tilted her head, the name sounding more like something from the transcendents than the Kingdom's naming conventions. But the Grandmaster simply chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"They may be our enemies, but we cannot deny that their swordsmanship is our root. So… consider it a minimum form of respect."
"Ohhh."
"They respect Isaac as well, after all."
[Your sword was beautiful. I'd like to test myself against it someday.]
The Father of Sword Demons—Kangwoo.
He'd only encountered Isaac once, but even then, he had shown genuine respect. Even though Isaac had killed one of his own children—another Sword Demon.
Isaac had always thought that, as a fellow swordsman, Kangwoo would be an even more troublesome enemy than Helik.
"Ahem. Well, if we can return to the topic… How's the weight? Like I said, I tried to make it as light as possible, but Jingol Steel doesn't exactly bend to one's will."
"Think about Helmut's greatswords. The current Lord's 'Ragnavel', the former Lord's 'Belzarad'—they weighed almost—"
Everyone gasped as Lapillon, the master smith, revealed the numbers. The weight was far beyond what they imagined.
"It was that heavy? But he swung it around like it was nothing! That's like swinging an entire beast around!"
"Pah, no wonder half the fools who tried to imitate Helmut's greatswords ended up with torn groins after a few years."
"…Yeah, that happened."
Silverna and the Grandmaster looked at Isaac with a strange mixture of awe and exasperation. Even with all the effort in the world, such weight was near impossible for the average person.
"Of course, not all of Helmut wields swords that heavy. The knights use far lighter ones."
Isaac added quickly. It was only natural.
"I… tried to use that kind, though."
Looking back, it was a foolish ambition. How had he thought he could swing that weight with ordinary strength?
But back then, he'd have done anything to be acknowledged as part of Helmut.
"That's why I kept telling you to stop."
Liana chimed in with a sigh. Now, the others finally understood why she'd always told Isaac to put down the sword.
"Holding it like this… yeah, you can feel the weight."
It was certainly heavy for a sword of its size. The solid density of Jingol Steel transmitted clearly through his palm.
"But I can handle it."
Isaac sheathed the sword at his waist with satisfaction.
It would've been impossible in the past, but the years of training he'd endured had made it manageable.
"…I'll need an adjustment period, though."
At that, the Grandmaster nodded.
"Try swinging it. I'll point out what needs fixing."
The two stepped into the center of the courtyard, facing one another.
Hooop.
The moment Isaac drew the blade, the veins in his arm bulged with pressure.
'Slower than usual for an Iaido.'
But there was no hesitation.
If anything, the sword came free with a grace that carried far more weight and pressure than before.
KWAANG!
"...!"
The Grandmaster blocked the strike, but her feet slid back five steps from the impact.
"Huh? What's this kid?"
Shaking the tingle out of her arms, the Grandmaster rested her sword on her shoulder.
"The weight is completely different, and yet—how is it that you wield it so naturally? In fact—"
She trailed off, eyes widening.
Isaac Logan had certainly based his swordsmanship on the Grandmaster's style, but he'd always pursued something of his own. Even back in the days when he'd injured his leg and became the 'Silent Sword', he had never stopped refining it.
It all began In the northern region of Malidan.
From there, Isaac had developed a sword style solely for himself as the 'Silent Sword'.
As time went on, he wielded twin swords that reminded others of Helmut's greatswords.
His swordsmanship had seemingly reached completion long ago.
But the Grandmaster realized, just now, that it hadn't.
Isaac had always admired the star called Helmut—that hadn't changed.
And so, Helmut's influence had inevitably become the foundation of his technique.
"…So that's what it is."
It had already been ready.
Isaac had simply trained until his body could wield it.
Now that he was ready, the sword followed suit to match him.
"This… is the sword you always envisioned, isn't it?"
To that quiet question, Isaac responded with a gentle smile.
The new swordsmanship born from the 'Silent Sword'.
A blade meant solely for himself.
At last, it had become both a conclusion—and a new beginning.