Year 1500
January 1
I stood at the edge of my estate, watching the sun sink beyond the horizon.
The Ozark estate—once filled with life, now nothing more than a monument to ruin.
My body was frail, covered in wrinkles, trembling as death lingered close. I was ninety years old today. Yet there was no one to celebrate with me. No family. No clan.
I was the last Ozark.
War, betrayal, and assassination had erased my bloodline. One by one, they all fell until only I remained.
The only friends I ever had were already dead.
I missed my family, even though they had treated me harshly—everyone except my father. Despite everything, I still missed them. My siblings… my dad.
I still remembered the days when my father taught me the sword with his own hands, long before poison stole his life away. Those lessons shaped me more than anything else.
I regret it all.
…
I regret being too weak to save them.
I regret the fall of my clan.
I had reached the peak—a Swordmaster—yet even that power was meaningless before time itself.
I prayed.
I prayed to all Ten Gods.
Even to the forgotten ones.
I begged them to turn back time. To give me one more chance.
But it was all in vain.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, I knew my final moment had arrived. I slowly unsheathed my sword and gazed upon it one last time before pressing my lips against its blade.
My sword—Rheinhafer.
Forged by a dwarven blacksmith using Northern Black Iron and dragon bones. Everyone else had perished, but this sword had never left my side.
I planted it firmly into the ground and leaned against it.
"It's time," I whispered.
"I wish I had one more chance."
Those were my final words.
Darkness claimed me.
Then—voices.
I could hear them even after death.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in spectral form, standing in an unknown space—neither heaven nor hell.
After some time, a figure emerged from the void.
He was tall, with long hair and a thick beard. His presence alone was overwhelming. His eyes were merciless—one glance was enough to tell me he could erase my existence without effort.
Even though I had once been a peak swordmaster, I felt insignificant before him.
He held a sword so beautiful that I couldn't look away.
My heart trembled.
It was the legendary sword of the Ozark clan, a blade said to have been lost to time.
Could it be?
The progenitor of our clan?
The Dragon Slayer.
The man who never bent before the Empire.
The Sword God—Hendrick Ozark.
I immediately fell to my knees.
The man before me commanded absolute respect.
"This poor descendant greets the Progenitor," I said reverently.
…..
"Sir Hendrick Ozark."
…..
He spoke in a voice that echoed like the heavens themselves.
"Pitiful descendant… stand.
You are strong, yet even you cannot defeat time.
I shall return you to the past using my remaining power and grant you three answers."
Shock ran through me.
Three questions.
Only three.
What could I possibly ask…?
After a moment, I spoke.
"How do I surpass the wall beyond Swordmaster?"
Silence.
Then laughter.
"Hahahahaha!
Even at the end, you still crave strength. Excellent.
To surpass Swordmaster and reach the realm of Sword Saint, you must fight endlessly. Your foundation must be unbreakable—one forged through pain, blood, and hardship.
Your basics must be supreme.
I knew nothing of swordsmanship at first. I bled for my dream—and achieved it.
Seek the Ice Dragon who dwells in the icy hills of Glost. Ask him for his teachings. Say this to him:
'An Ozark who does not bleed is no Ozark.'
.
"Hah… thinking of that fool makes me nostalgic."
I swallowed hard before asking my second question.
"Where can I find your legacy?"
"My legacy is already with you.
My sword techniques, my teachings—everything I left behind exists in your realm. I recorded them for my descendants."
I clenched my fists.
"Respectfully, Progenitor… only basic moves remain with two secret moves"
His expression darkened.
"That's strange. I left everything with my son before ascending…
Someone must have stolen or destroyed them.
Bastards.
As for my sword—it may truly be lost to time."
He paused before continuing.
"I will do you one final favor.
I will engrave my life's teachings onto your soul and awaken my dormant blood within you.
I have devoured more dragons than you can imagine.
With this blood, you will also be able to practice magic.
I have also left you two gifts. They will reveal themselves when needed.
My existence ends here. I will fade and be forgotten.
Go, my descendant.
Change your destiny—and the fate of our clan."
I couldn't speak.
I knelt once more as the Sword God smiled gently… then vanished into nothingness.
I stood alone again.
With hope for the first time in decades.
Please…
Please….
Let this not be a dream.