"Ah, seriously. What is this about?"
That day was no different.
Lately, she'd been saying she was incredibly busy, but every time she came to visit, she said almost the exact same things.
Apparently, she'd managed to get additional mages deployed to the northern front through a separate agreement with the Mage Tower.
Thanks to that, things had stabilized a bit in the north, and now they could afford to reassign some forces elsewhere—comments that made one wonder if it was really okay to talk about these things so openly.
"Good news, right? I also heard the behavior of the Transcendents in the north has changed a lot."
"They've changed?"
Silverna, in particular, welcomed Princess Clarice's visits.
The news she brought from the north was of great value to Silverna.
One might wonder why she didn't just return north if she was that involved, but Silverna didn't seem to have any intention of going back for a while.
She must've felt it herself by now—where she truly needed to be.
"I heard they're no longer launching relentless offensives. In fact, if anything, when they suddenly appear, they flee just as quickly."
"So that means—"
"They're conserving their forces, obviously."
Clarice shrugged, clearly unconcerned and convinced there was no need to overthink it.
Everyone else had the same thought the moment they heard it—the situation up north was clearly the calm before the storm.
"Anyway, it's just… complicated. I want this all to be over quickly, but I can't help thinking we're not quite ready yet."
Clarice's words applied to everyone there.
As she said, they were all grappling with similar worries.
There was hope that the final battle against the Transcendents was right around the corner.
But even if the momentum was on their side, no one could predict what the Transcendents might do—so anxiety crept in.
They were all feeling the same mix of anticipation and unease.
"What do you think, Isaac? Do you think we can win?"
At Princess Clarice's question, all eyes turned to him.
He was the one who knew the most, and the one who had interacted with the Transcendents more than anyone else.
He'd even experienceed regression—surely, they thought, he might have some kind of insight.
But—
"There's nothing more I can tell you."
Even the knowledge he had of the future was useless now. The reason was simple.
"Because back then, humanity never pushed the Transcendents this far."
In other words, he had no information. And yet, for the others, those words were a sobering reminder.
It meant that they had pushed the Transcendents this far.
That the end was in sight.
That the outcome this time would be different from before.
That's what Isaac believed.
***
It was one of those rare nights when sleep just wouldn't come.
Sitting blankly in his room, staring up at the sky, Isaac felt as if his thoughts were dragging him downward from his feet.
"Is it because of that conversation today?"
Usually, during times like this, it was better to do something. Staying still would only get him swallowed by his own thoughts.
So Isaac grabbed his swords and headed outside.
He decided to move his body.
But when he came downstairs to the first floor, he saw someone in the kitchen.
"Mm?"
It was Sharen, still half-asleep in her pajamas, hair undone for once.
She was rubbing her eyes, probably having come down for a glass of water.
"Isaac, where are you going?"
"Thought I'd get some training in."
"…Training at night? Like that thing the older girls talk about?"
What on earth did they even tell this kid?
"I'm just swinging my sword. Go to bed. You won't grow if you don't sleep."
"Okaaay."
Sharen shuffled back to the guest room. With so many people around these days, she was sharing a room with Liana.
Isaac stepped into the garden.
As the cool night air brushed against him, he drew his sword.
But then—
"…Hm?"
A cold, piercing sensation swept across his skin on the night wind.
A chilling bloodlust, as if to announce the presence of someone else.
Isaac turned his gaze to the entrance.
There stood a man in martial robes, holding a massive greatsword.
A conical hat shaded his face from the sky. Horns jutted from his forehead. His clenched fists showed firm resolve.
He'd alwayss known someone would come.
He'd always told himself to be ready.
He'd always believed the time was drawing near.
And yet now that it was finally here, it felt too sudden—and a wave of regret surged, wondering if there wasn't something more he could've done.
No, he told himself. Don't think about that.
He'd done all he could to prepare.
There was nothing more he could have done.
Steadying his breath, Isaac stepped forward.
"No matter how great a sword demon you are, coming here alone is just reckless."
He thought for a moment that it might be Kangwoo, the one known as the Father of Sword Demons—but it wasn't.
A Transcendent he had never seen before.
Yet the man calmly rested his hand on his sword.
"Yeah… My father told me not to act recklessly."
"..."
"Then my coming here is merely my bravado—and solely my own desire."
"Your desire?"
"I wanted to cross swords one-on-one with the one acknowledged by my father."
Isaac thought that these Sword Demons might not be so different from himself.
After all, this one sought to test the limits of his sword, wanting to know just how far it could reach—even if it meant staring death in the eye.
"I am Manwoo, a Sword Demon from the Abyss Realm. Human, I wish to cross blades with you."
"Isaac Logan."
Isaac calmly stated his name and placed his hand upon his sword.
In that moment when their eyes locked, the tension between them became razor-sharp.
Even the sound of the swords being drawn was lost to the stillness of the night.
Manwoo's massive greatsword came crashing down in a powerful Iaido—but it was broken by Isaac's belated yet precise counter.
No, it wasn't just the strike that was broken.
Crack! Crack-crack!
Cracks began to form on Manwoo's greatsword, overwhelmed by the hardness of Isaac's Ink-Blood Sword.
Soon, it shattered completely, scattering like falling petals.
"...!"
Manwoo's eyes widened.
This wasn't just a clash of sparks or steel meeting steel.
Even though it had been only a single exchange, Manwoo struggled to comprehend what had just occurred.
"Did he… deliberately swing slowly?"
Iaido were considered the most effective for initiating attacks.
Drawing a blade from its sheath while striking meant the user skipped the act of drawing entirely and went straight into offense.
But because it was fast and powerful, it also inherently left openings.
It was a heavily one-sided technique.
The only reason it seemed flawless was simply because no one had ever broken through it—until now.
Yet for someone like Isaac, who used the same swordsmanship, things were different.
"Since we use the same technique, I figured it'd be easier to exploit its weaknesses than go for a head-on clash."
"..."
But upon hearing that, Manwoo shook his head.
"I don't think my sword broke just because of a counter."
As a fellow Sword Demon, Manwoo seemed to have sensed something more.
A faint smile curled his lips in quiet satisfaction.
"It was your own iaido. Different from how we Sword Demons swing our blades…"
"I'm not one to leave weaknesses unattended."
What Isaac had used was a style that had evolved past that of the Sword Demons.
It carried traces of grandmaster, and the form of Helmut as well.
It could only be described as Isaac's own Iaido.
"Hah…"
Manwoo understood.
Physically, he was far superior.
No matter how much Isaac had trained, there was always the limit of his human body.
"This is the first time I've tasted such a crushing defeat."
The battle they just had wasn't simply one between a transcendent and a human.
It was a match between swordsmen.
Despite being in a more advantageous position, Manwoo had been completely outmatched in pure swordsmanship.
Isaac stared at him coolly, his gaze indifferent—having lost interest in a swordsman who no longer had a blade.
With a bitter smile, Manwoo nodded.
"I now understand why my father acknowledged you. You've reached a realm of swordsmanship impossible for a mere human."
"It's because I'm human that I've made it this far."
To Isaac, who knew his own limitations well and fought harder because of them, those words were unacceptable.
"..."
As the loser, there was nothing Manwoo could say in return except to quietly accept Isaac's words.
"You want to keep going?"
This question felt different from before—it was no longer swordsmen crossing blades.
Now it was about the fight between a human and a transcendent.
A raw, bloody struggle, devoid of formality—only survival and hostility remained.
But Manwoo simply shook his head and spread his arms.
The fact that he had disobeyed orders and come here already meant there was nothing more important to him than the sword.
"It was an honor to close my eyes before such a splendid sword."
As Isaac's Ink-Blood sword once more traced a deadly arc, Manwoo collapsed in a spray of blood.
The moment he fell, the weight that pressed down on Isaac was none other than the night air itself.
The thick, suffocating air stabbed into his lungs like it was burning him from the inside.
"Kh…! Hngh—!"
It became momentarily difficult to breathe, but after regulating his breath, he adjusted quickly.
The sensation was oddly familiar to Isaac.
The Abyss Realm?
It was the same sticky, polluted air he'd experienced while in the Abyss Realm.
And then, above his head, silver light began to pour down.
"No way…"
As if drawn by something, Isaac looked up.
The moon that had faintly illuminated the night had vanished.
Now, only a single silver star remained in the sky—quietly casting its light upon the earth.