"No wind at all… what a barren world this is."
As the Silver Clock rose into the sky, Evergard began to change—transforming into something akin to the Abyss Realm.
It couldn't be said that it had become the Abyss Realm entirely, but the signs were certainly there.
Wind did not blow—it simply didn't reach here. Not even a single blade of grass was permitted to sprout fresh green leaves.
The Abyss Realm was such a land.
The Grandmaster, who had only ever lived in Crimson Valley, knew nothing about the Abyss Realm.
And so, the lives of the Transcendents who had survived in such a harsh environment felt unbearably distant to her.
"You don't have time to get sentimental."
"So, the wind isn't completely gone, is it?"
A fierce and violent force shot forth—thick and scorching with killing intent.
Well, at least something was blowing.
Thinking that, the Grandmaster tightened her grip around her greatsword.
"Sharen, don't get ahead of yourself. One misstep and you could lose your head in the blink of an eye."
"Ooh…"
Sharen let out a faint exclamation, then glanced toward Mugan and asked,
"Is he faster than Isaac?"
It could've been seen as a fundamental question—or even a kind of insult.
But as always, Sharen was simply asking innocently, as if weighing right and wrong.
"…Probably not."
The Grandmaster looked a little awkward even giving an answer.
After all, blatantly comparing people to their faces like that was nothing short of provocation.
"Kheum!"
And sure enough, Mugan let out a deep breath—like a volcano on the verge of erupting.
Just as it seemed like his fury would explode—
"Then I'm fine! I can react!"
Sharen's pure, cheerful response only hastened the eruption.
Mugan's greatsword lashed out. Unlike others who aimed for sharp, precise cuts, his style was brutal—like swinging a club.
He tried to destroy everything that stood in the sword's path.
Boom!
"Ugh… Aack?!"
Just like Sharen said—she reacted.
It wasn't so fast that it was impossible to follow with the eye, like Isaac's speed.
Still, the moment her sword clashed with his, her eyes flew wide in shock—as if it had been a mistake to even try.
"Waaaaaaaah?!"
Her scream stretched long as her body flew through the air.
As the distance grew, her voice grew fainter, eventually swallowed by the sound of a collapsing mansion.
She had crashed into it, and part of it was beginning to collapse.
"Little one, let me give you a lesson."
Resting the greatsword back on his shoulder, Mugan exhaled heavily, still fuming.
"Not seeing something doesn't make it strong."
It's true—a blow you can't see can be deadly.
"But being unable to counter what you do see—that's what real power is."
Even if you can react, even if you can block it, if you still can't overcome it—
To Mugan, strength meant violence.
The Grandmaster immediately stepped forward.
She didn't want Mugan to gain momentum here.
"You already know this Master's teachings!"
Boom!
Their swords clashed once more, a pure, clear ring echoing through the night sky.
It wasn't that she didn't know.
No—she knew it all too well, and that's exactly why she didn't want to hear it again.
Pointing to the flowing river of Crimson Valley, Mugan had always said this:
Even when you know it flows that way, you can't stop it.
You must become that kind of existence.
That was strength.
"Answer me, disciple!"
"Ghhk!"
She was clearly being overpowered.
Trying to win with speed wouldn't work either—she couldn't deceive Mugan's eyes.
"What of the humans you've seen? Just as I've taught you! They were wretched! Foolish! Unworthy of your expectations—were they not?!"
"You don't want an answer! You just want to shout!"
Was it really just rage?
Mugan's desperate, furious shouting… strangely, it sounded almost like a plea.
That humans must be like that.
That the ones who destroyed their land must be evil.
That they had to be hopeless, irredeemable creatures.
The Grandmaster, having exchanged a series of strikes, felt a numbness in her arm and took a step back.
What was the problem?
No—everything might be the problem.
It wasn't that nothing had changed.
Perhaps it was that she hadn't been able to change.
Even at this late hour, despite the ferocity of their battle, not a single breeze stirred.
In this space where the Silver Clock hung in the sky, even the natural cycle of life—something once taken for granted—was denied.
And so, that man's will remained unshaken and immovable.
With that thought, the Grandmaster slowly sheathed her greatsword.
"Hmph."
Mugan rested his sword on his shoulder.
Sheathing a sword typically meant a fight had ended.
It meant the place was safe, that there was no longer any need for blades.
In that sense, what the Grandmaster had just done was no different.
It was her way of saying: Let's end this here.
"If it drags on too long, it becomes hard to catch up with one's disciple."
Even with Silverna and Liana nearby, the Transcendents blocking the path ahead were formidable.
It was clear they'd throw their lives away just to hold Isaac back.
"I've never once in my life thought I had a good master. But in return, I've been blessed with fine disciples—"
Her foot pressed against the earth, as though pushing it away.
Her bent waist took the stance of someone about to launch forward.
"Time to act like a master."
Not even a sound.
No, the sound couldn't catch up.
Great Iaido.
Before the slash could even be seen—its force had already arrived.
To Isaac, it might've been a technique honed for survival.
But the Grandmaster had sharpened it to the extreme.
Why?
If you asked—
She could answer with the name of the man standing before her.
"Khuh—!"
Even the ring of the blade came half a beat late.
But Mugan's sword, slashed diagonally across, clearly intercepted the Grandmaster's strike.
His massive frame was pushed back, sliding across the dirt and kicking up dust.
But he had withstood it.
That was what mattered.
The Grandmaster's blade had not sliced through Mugan's neck.
"Did you think it would work again?"
Normally, he would've flashed a smug, prideful grin.
But not this time.
His twisted expression looked as though he wanted to smile but couldn't.
"You thought that, just like the day you left—when you severed my horn with that very sword—it would work again?"
He had truly loved her swordsmanship.
He should've been happy that he had blocked the same 'Great Iaido' that once took his horn.
"Did I look like such a fool to you?"
His contorted face finally formed the shape of rage.
"…A demon." the Grandmaster muttered bitterly.
The Mugan she had once known would've rejoiced here.
Because, no matter what, he still considered her his disciple.
Even though it was a surprise attack, he had let her go—declaring that slicing off his horn had marked her as the culmination of Crimson Valley's teachings.
"Look at yourself now."
Her voice was filled with sorrow.
"You're consumed by sorcery… You've even begun to forget your true self."
"That's none of your concern."
"You're right. It's not."
Mugan's blade roared forward again.
A storm of violence surged around him, like a furious tempest.
And then—from the collapsing mansion—a red comet burst forth.
"Before Helmut—!"
Wreathed in crimson energy, Sharen soared forward, greatsword raised high.
"Don't go showing off your strength!"
Boom!
It was a powerful charge.
But her sword was still no match.
Mugan blocked it easily and, reaching past their blades, seized Sharen by the throat.
"Gk—?!"
"Helmut. Yes… Arandel. His martial prowess was worthy of being called strength."
To bring about phenomena that bordered on sheer violence through overwhelming force—
There was no more fitting expression for Arandel Helmut than that.
"But you are not."
Mugan's burning eyes glared at Sharen. Yet she didn't back down.
As crimson energy surged from her entire body and she readied herself to sever even his arm—
"Though you were never a good teacher… as your disciple, I have my duty—"
The woman's voice was like the edge of a blade.
Sharp, yet calm.
"In a world where not even the wind stirs, I will cut down your stagnant hatred that has festered so long."
The only reason one could tell a sword had moved—
Was the long crimson line now etched across Mugan's body.
"Ah…"
Thud!
Mugan's grip loosened, and the hand clutching Sharen's neck fell away.
Sharen dropped to the ground in confusion.
It had happened at point-blank range.
Even from this close, she hadn't seen a thing.
All she felt was a faint breeze, barely brushing her skin.
"That sword—"
Mugan was no different.
Shaking uncontrollably, his eyes darted in urgency to the Grandmaster.
Her sword was still drawn.
It hadn't been sheathed.
It had simply remained calmly in her hand the entire time.
'It wasn't an Iaido?'
That overwhelming power he thought had come from drawing the blade—
Had she manifested all of that simply through a swing?
Boom.
Mugan's knees hit the ground.
As his body sagged, his lips trembled with a question.
"The name… of your sword—?"
The technique that had just cut him down—
He wanted to at least know what it was called.
"Mugan," the Grandmaster replied.
"No opening. A step beyond the Great Iaido—this is my sword."
She had not simply stood by, watching her disciple grow.
The Grandmaster was not merely a teacher—
She was a wielder of the sword.
She wasn't someone to watch Isaac's growth with folded arms and quiet pride.
"…Haah."
'This foolish brat.'
'How dare you speak your master's name so carelessly.' he wanted to yell.
But the strength had left him.
Through the path her blade had carved, Centuries of festering hatred spilled out with his blood.
'So death has come at last…'
A faint smile curved across Mugan's lips.
The Grandmaster, now sheathing her sword, reached down and helped Sharen to her feet.
"You were never a good master." she said,
No longer sparing a glance at Mugan.
As she passed, her voice lingered—
"But I was a good disciple."
The words echoed in his ears until the very moment Mugan finally closed his eyes.
"I will not forget what you taught me."