Zeni’s sword was Claire; only those who reached divinity could use it.
Elaine covered her yawn as she wandered around the sanctum. Although the training field was full of activity, she didn’t find much enjoyment in watching the sword spars. She would very much just help Dunnford with reading a certain inscription and then test out her glove; however, he had said that he needed to nurture a squad his friend had left behind before leading her to the alleyway.
Elaine could have just stayed behind in the inn and double checked on her glove, but since she would potentially work with the Zenists, she had thought to come here with Dunnford to test the waters. And, contradictory to her expectation, the head of the sanctum in Lune, Ignes, had welcomed Elaine with warmth; and the Zenists didn’t give her a cold stare like she was an eyesore. Guess not all sanctum treat mages with hostility.
Children ran past her in the corridor with laughter. Elaine had thought that sanctums forced children to become divine sword masters from a young age, but that perspective was easily disproved when she looked at their smiles as they passed by.
The hallway of the sanctum was decorated with framed paintings of swords, swordsmen, and swordswomen. Some of those art had metal nameplates under them; only real and notable ones had them it seemed.
Aimlessly going around, Elaine’s feet had carried her to the sanctum’s hall. This hall, she assumed, was a sacred place, for although it was a massive inner place, it was quiet and desolate. Inside, three large statues loomed over her. One was a man, One was a woman, and One was both and yet none at once. The 3 forms of the human who had ascended to divinity… Zen, Zenia, and Zeni.
Nonsense, she thought.
Zeni, the androgynous form, was at the center and it held what looked like a wooden practice sword in its grips. It held its sword pointed to the ground in front, as if holding a cane. Under the statue, the words ‘Zeni’ and ‘Claire’ were inscribed into the marble. For a form without gender, that’s a feminine name for its sword, Elaine remarked. She wondered why the name for the sword wasn’t androgynous like its wielder’s form.
‘Who goes there?’ Came a chipped voice.
Elaine turned to see a man approaching her with rigid steps. He looked like he was in his forties, wore the standard sanctum’s white uniform, but the emblem on his shoulder bore no inscription. That meant that he didn’t belong to a squad. His hands were behind him, his face was full of scars, but his expression was strict.
He eyed her staff and the gemstone at the end. ‘It’s not every day I see a mage in Lune. Especially in sanctum.’
‘Am I unwanted here?’ she harshened her tone slightly.
‘No,’ he said. Only that.
He stood beside Elaine and looked at the three statues. This man didn’t give an air of hospitality, but nor did hostility. Dunnford trusts this place, Elaine thought. The man’s hand, which was now within her sight, was empty. I should too… ‘That’s Caliburn, isn’t it?’ Elaine pointed at the sword that Zen was holding.
He nodded. ‘A sword that could only be lifted by rightful Kings.’
‘If I heard correctly, the three forms had a sword each do they not?’
‘They do.’
‘Then where’s Zenia’s?’
Zenia’s statue didn’t hold a sword like the other two. Instead, her arm was stretched to one direction, and around it was… a surge of water? Under the statue, ‘Zenia’ was inscribed to the marble, but the sword’s name was nowhere.
Receiving the question, the man gave her an assessing stare, seemingly thinking if he should answer her question. He then stared at the statue and gave a while of silence, perhaps structuring the words to decline from answering—which would make sense. Why would the Zenist share their knowledge with a mage? I’m not unwanted here, but that doesn’t mean—
‘Hers is a sword without form,’ he answered. Elaine blinked twice, surprised. ‘A sword that could only be summoned by the best sword master. The sword’s name is needed to summon the weapon; it used to be inscribed, but the sanctum had problems in the past, of the sword being misused by wicked sword masters. Ever since, the name of the sword is only disclosed to the sword saints.’
Formulae Magic, Elaine thought. She knew of instances where Formulae Magic could be used to summon objects with low requirement. In fact, she knew of an acquaintance who could summon a wand from thin air by calling its name. This sword that Zenia had—justified her theory that Zeni was someone who used magic. The human who had ascended to divinity is a sham.
‘… Could you tell me more?’ Elaine asked.
***
Rounded point; dull edges, Brig’s sword crashed down ferociously.
Dunnford’s sidestep, though done poorly, managed to barely evade that attack.
As Dunnford gained some distance from Brig, he could see that her sword was perfectly intact. That sword clawed the soil along with the grass as she pulled it out. If that attack had hit him, even if he had his invulnerability, he was sure he would be blown away.
In that one-versus-two spar, Wald pursued Dunnford. His sword was common, but his style was not. He was a one-handed sword user, sharing certain similarities with Freya. But, unlike her, he pointed his blade up instead of down. And as Dunnford dodged his swift slashes, Wald’s left free hand kept searching for opportunities to either grab or hit him.
Dunnford’s dodges were poor; he rarely trained it after all, and he was having a hard time in that spar. Brig and Wald were using their swords, but Dunnford was using a wooden practice sword. He had proposed this because if they hit him, he would be fine because of his invulnerability. But if he hit them, there might be unwanted damages.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
He couldn’t block metal with wood, but Dunnford could hit the side of the metal blade to change the trajectory of Wald’s slash. Though, he doubted that the trick would keep working against him.
Stealing Wald’s moment, Brig came in with her ferocious swing all of a sudden at Dunnford. The both of them had zero coordination, but that made their movements difficult to read. Not to mention, their relentless pursuit for victory gave off an overwhelming pressure.
Dunnford hit the side of Brig’s sword to derail her slash’s trajectory, but despite him hitting it with his might, that almost did nothing and Dunnford was forced to dodge by swaying his upper body. A trick he learnt from observing Freya’s spar with Ray.
However, Dunnford wasn’t as good as her, and lost his balance in his attempt.
And of course, Brig and Wald saw their chance to capitalize on that moment of weakness and dashed at him. Their shoulders clashed with one another as they did.
Their teamwork isn’t great, Dunnford thought. The pressure they give would work against inexperienced opponents, but that I have plenty.
If defense wouldn’t work, then Dunnford had to respond to their offense with his own. His balance might have been ruined, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t launch an attack. As he fell down, he let go one of his grips and swung his sword with one hand. This attack forced them to react and gave Dunnford time to regain his balance by pushing the ground with his other hand.
This only stalled their attack; and it wasn’t enough time for him to step backward. But if backward wouldn’t work, then there was forward.
Dunnford leaned forward, bumping his shoulders to Brig’s as she was winding up her swing. He was hoping that he could push her, but she was as unflinching as a boulder. Still, he had taken her strength into account. At least when they were that close, Dunnford didn’t have to worry about her swo—
She headbutted him. A wild approach.
Too wild, he thought. Dunnford could have aimed his forehead toward her nose in response, but it would have turned ugly, so he had to receive the headbutt. There was no pain because of his invulnerability, but the blow was strong enough to make him stagger backward.
A slash followed from the side by Wald. That—was an attack that Dunnford could not avoid. Thus, he was hit on his upper right arm, and the spar concluded with the Hawk squad’s victory.
Disorderly, Dunnford thought, without discipline or basics, but their desire to win is strong.
‘I lost,’ he declared. ‘Do the others from the Hawk squad fight like you both?’
‘Everyone has their own fighting style,’ Wald answered.
‘Do they hate losing like you both?’ Dunnford corrected his question.
‘Who likes losing, Dunn-y?’ Brig cut in with an irritated tone. Her forehead was red, her expression was vexed, and she didn’t look satisfied by her victory at all.
Brig must had noticed that he had received the headbutt on purpose. At that, Dunnford was worried that any response he gave would be pouring salt to wounds. Therefore, he told them that they should get some water and take a minute to rest. They were willing to follow Dunnford’s suggestion and Wald made an attempt at light conversation with her as they fetched themselves water.
Only when Dunnford was sure they weren’t looking, he relieved the grip of his hand and let the soil he had grabbed fell to the ground. He had taken the soil when he lost his balance—with the intent to throw it at them and obstruct their visions, but he didn’t.
A trick for battles. Not sword spars.
***
Ray hated the skies.
He used to be fine with them; and he didn’t particularly hate the sight. However, since his seeing the sky meant that he had been defeated in his spar, he started to hate the skies.
‘We’ll take a short break,’ Ignes said. ‘Make good use of it.’
She doesn’t even sound tired, Ray thought. Was it that effortless to beat him? The frustration coming from the losses were piling up. He didn’t feel this frustrated against Freya, but being defeated by Ignes felt more discouraging. Perhaps it was because it felt as if he was losing his path. Against Freya, he thought that he was going somewhere by trying her form. Against Ignes however, he felt like he was just lost.
Ray rose up and sat on the ground. His eyes wandered toward an empty bench, then to the Zenist’s spars, then to Dunnford who had finished his spar with the Hawk squad members. He was looking at a sword on the ground and tried to lift it up. That round pointed sword was heavier than it looked, for Dunnford was trembling as he held the sword upright. What kind of sword is that?
Then, Dunnford caught sight of something and stared at a certain direction. Curious, Ray followed his stare and saw two people. Violet hair; amethyst eyes, Freya finally came to the sanctum. Beside her was a gray-haired man with an expressionless face.
Unreadable, was Ray’s impression upon looking at the man.
***
Inside the training ground, Freya spotted Ray and Dunnford and gave them a smile.
‘I’ll need the Stormpiercer,’ Freya had said to Vod in the blacksmith’s shop.
‘Void!’ A gray-haired woman approached them. Ignes, Vod’s mother, the current head of the sanctum in Lune. ‘I didn’t expect that you, of all people, would bring back a girl! Does this mean I don’t get to call you Void anymore?’
‘Ignes,’ he remarked laconically.
From that exchange, Freya determined that their relationship wasn’t close, despite being a family.
‘The Stormpiercer can only be deployed by orders from the sword saint,’ Vod had explained.
Though Freya and Vod had different goals, theirs happened to benefit from one another. Freya wanted a ship that could pierce through the skystorm, while Vod…
‘Give the sword saint title to her,’ he pointed at Freya.
He didn’t want to receive the sword saint title.
***
‘This again!’ Ignes raised her voice and that attracted the attention of everyone in the training field, Dunnford included. ‘Your avoidance is getting on my nerves, Void!’
‘I don’t want it,’ Void said coolly against Ignes’ heat. ‘And she does.’
‘And by that logic, you’ll throw the title to anyone so long as they want it! Zenia… where did I go wrong in raising my child… Void, your father might have been complacent about your denial of the title from ages ago and kept it to himself, but after his death you now choose to give it to just anyone! You’ve been chosen by the previous sword saint to bear the title! And even if you’re not chosen by him, you would still be chosen by elimination since you’re the best swordsman here! Instead of pridefully accepting it, you’re just—you’re just running away!’
Dunnford knew that Ignes could let out certain outrages—she used to do that to Kadas, sometimes Sadak, and him—but he had never seen such a stoic response toward that kind of outrage. Void just stared at her. He didn’t look disturbed, nor angered, nor guilty, just expressionless.
‘What is happening here?’ Came a chipped voice, from a man with a blank emblem. Elaine was right behind him.
‘Void being a dummy,’ Ignes said.
‘Again?’ the man sighed. ‘I should have known this is the only reason you’d call me here, Vod.’
Vod stared at Ignes right in the eyes, only then could Dunnford read a hint of emotion from his eyes, that of challenge. ‘Prevent me then, Ignes,’ he said. ‘Like you always do.’
Ignes glared at him, but that achieved nothing. ‘Fine.’ She then turned to the man with blank emblem. ‘Jagzak, sorry you have to deal with his stupidity.’
‘Just make it quick.’
Finally, Ignes turned to face Freya. Hatred radiated from her and her stare had the intent to kill; and by no means was that a bluff. ‘The title of sword saint,’ Ignes began, ‘is given to the best swordsperson around. Void is stronger than me. And though he would like to give you the title, so long as you’re weaker than me, that means you don’t deserve it.
‘We’re going to have a duel using real swords, with Jagzak officiating it. If you win, you get the title. If I win, you don't.
'I won’t hold back; and I am not kind enough to kill you. When the duel is done, you’re going to live as a crippled who would forever regret ever wanting the title. Knowing this, do you still want to be the sword saint?’
Tension built up in the training field and everyone’s eyes were locked to them. Against the head of the sanctum, Freya wasn’t threatened. ‘Suppose that I back down,' she said, 'would you give me the right to have the Stormpiercer?’
Ignes gave a firm ‘No.’
‘Then I still want the title.’