44 – 44. Transcendence

From Brikala’s charge, there was madness, something never seen before.

Like a warhorse whipped, he was burning his own body with electricity, maintaining a forced state of awakening.

The way he charged, with two feet and four hands, would make any human cower.

But here, a man twisted from the orbit of humanity moved first.

“Glory to Helmunttt!”

Jonathan, a devotee of Helmuntt.

The viscous, dense aura radiating from his greatsword had twisted into something that was only called Red Descent by name.

KWAH-BANG!

The instant the two monsters collided, aura and electricity burst in all directions.

The balance of power was shattered from the very beginning.

The moment they clashed, Jonathan’s greatsword was thrown back as if it had been repelled, and the monster passed, crushing and trampling over Jonathan.

“Kuh-urk!”

“You acted like you were going to do something, what the hell?!”

Jonathan was breached so fast, Sharen’s reaction lagged a beat.

Before the horizontal slash could even swing, Brikala had punched away the greatsword.

Eyes wide, she desperately unleashed her *jeokgang* all over, trying to resist.

“Kyah!”

Sharen too, couldn’t stop Brikala’s charge, and was thrown against the wall.

A fraction more wrong, and she’d have plummeted straight down.

“……!”

Brikala’s goal was Isaac all along.

The beast knew, exactly, who here had almost taken his life.

‘Fighting head-on, there’s no chance…!’

And it’s not like he could flee somewhere either.

Since Sharen moved away, Isaac’s body was already freezing over again.

*Koo-ung!*

Right foot slams forward, a huge stomp.

He abandons the *peolseon*, placing his hand on the last remaining katana.

[What do you think is your master’s sword’s greatest power?]

‘Fear, I believe.’

Isaac had answered it easily then.

And the Grand Master, laughing, had grumbled [Too excellent, not cute at all.]

Isaac’s actions hold no wavering.

Hands, shaking and stiff from the cold, the moment they grip the sword hilt, feel, like a lie, free.

The beast knows how to use its head.

It has wisdom, thinks, learns, and grows.

And that’s why.

*Koo-ung!*

Brikala stops before Isaac, cautiously spreading its four hands wide.

‘Knowing is what makes you afraid. Learning is what makes you wary.’

Isaac was asking it, now.

His *iaido*.

Could you follow it with your eyes?

A sword-flash, like lightning.

Could he block it again, that which he’d barely parried before, a stroke of luck?

Brikala’s unwavering gaze fixed on Isaac’s stance.

Focused on when, at what moment, that thing in its sheath would be drawn.

Bluffing.

A lie played with lives on the line, like a card game.

That stance?

The instant it’s drawn, it’ll be consumed by the electric charge. The blade will be useless, unable to cut even air.

But he doesn’t know if the thing at his hip is the same as the one before.

‘Thought grips the foot. Knowledge builds fear.’

He’d felt the possibility once, with his skin, and that dread had roused his rage.

So, Brikala couldn’t readily close the gap on Isaac either.

Though, of course, that wouldn’t last.

“KRaaaNG!”

Brikala’s fist slammed into the ground, and electric currents surged across the barrier, engulfing Isaac.

A wave of electric force.

He threw the pulse line to try and block it, but it barely worked.

In the end, the current crashed over Isaac.

“Kkheeeeuuhh!”

It felt like his whole body would burst.

Just moments ago, his body had been freezing; now it felt like his skin was burning, with the smell of char and rising steam.

“KRAHaaaH!”

Finally thinking Isaac was completely down, he approached with heavy thudding steps and then…

*PAAK!*

His fist backhanded Isaac with all his strength.

“Isaaccckkk!”

Sharen’s scream reached him.

It roused Jonathan from his stupor, but it was too late.

Isaac’s body was thrown up, soaring beyond the barrier, and then plummeted straight down.

The shock was like his frozen body was being pulverized. Even the wind rushing past was pure pain.

This is it, I’m dying like this.

“Hey- You-! Fell- Down-!”

“Everyone- Cover-!”

“Ah- Sir Isaac!”

The fractured voices, like echoes, barely kept Isaac tethered to consciousness.

A towering wall, hazy as if viewed through fog, swam into his sight.

‘Ah.’

Unbeknownst to himself, Isaac was already on the ground.

But there was no impact.

He’d thought he’d die instantly.

“What were you even trying to do!”

The reason was quickly apparent.

Warm green mana enveloped him.

The throbbing pain, like a body-wide bruise, began to seep away, fading into his skin.

A finger twitched. The blurry vision cleared.

Vivian, the medic mage of the infirmary.

“If I hadn’t caught you with magic, you’d be dead, no chance for treatment!”

He coughed, yet still shouted, his healing magic spent.

“You said yourself to run-! Cough cough! What on earth were you thinking, fighting over there-! Cough! Hack!”

He turned his head, spitting phlegm.

Healing magic was clearly taxing. His face, gaunt, showed the toll, most of his mana likely drained.

“Ah.”

Isaac slowly sat up.

Not fully healed, but good enough to fight again.

“Sir Isaac, are you alright?!”

The soldiers of the Malid guard, who’d surrounded him, asked, worried.

“Casualties, the situation?”

Isaac brushed the ice crystals from his body as he asked. The reply came quickly.

“None, except for the initial assault. Thanks to your quick thinking and the retreat order, Sir.”

They wanted to reassure him that his decision was the right one.

But Isaac, he pushes past the soldiers blocking his way, shoulders shoving, and trudges towards the ramparts.

“It’s not, not over yet.”

Up above, Sharen and Jonathan, they’re still fighting Brikala, aren’t they?

Heavy steps forward.

Other soldiers, they hurry to block him, urgent.

“You can’t go!”

“Going now is suicide!”

“We’ll go instead! You rest, Sir Isaac!”

“Defending the Malridian ramparts, that’s our duty from the start!”

To them, each one saying they’d go, Isaac asks, eyes bloodshot.

“Go up? You all wanna freeze to death, is that it?”

“…….”

“The Malridian rampart guards, that’s you lot. So, you stay here.”

Because if.

“If we die, then you have to be the ones to hold it.”

The longer they’re on the ramparts, Brikala takes damage too, it accumulates.

If they can’t kill it, they needed to fight up there for as long as they could, to make it tire.

“Because you are behind us. We can fight with our lives.”

The soldiers, speechless, they couldn’t stop Isaac from going, but

Blocking him, it’s a man, out of nowhere.

“What happened to the other swords?”

“Antonio…”

He snatches Isaac’s mood, like taking it, pulls out his sword.

*Crack-shatter!*

The blade, completely ruined, blackened, it’s unusable.

It seems it was wrecked when Isaac was hit by the lightning.

“The sword-“

He reaches out a hand.

Demanding the silver greatsword Antonio holds.

“Wasn’t gonna give it to you like this.”

But not now.

Antonio, passing over the silver blade, wrestles with how to explain his tangled feelings, settling for a laugh that feels like a shove.

“The thanks… you can give it when you get back. To the lady, herself.”

Isaac’s eyes widened, just a fraction.

The blade in his hand was surprisingly light, yet imbued with an ethereal, clear energy.

He knew at once, it was a blade forged of frost-silver.

Isaac gave a small nod and walked back inside, his body suddenly blazing with heat.

“Kee-ack! Guk! Hrrk!”

He was throwing up, a wretched sight.

It seemed Vivian had cast one final warmth spell on him before he left.

He heads toward the barricade.

The soldiers, parting to make way, slowly raise their hands.

Without a word.

They offered their salute, a show of respect, toward the back of the swordsman going to fight.

* * *

[Enlightenment?]

The stairs leading up to the rampart.

A familiar sensation of his brain freezing over in the frigid air.

Then, the voice of his beloved Grandmaster echoed in Isaac’s ear.

[When did you gain enlightenment? Hah, I thought there were more students with slow recent growth, only to be asked such a trifling question.]

The Grandmaster, tilting his liquor cup, asks back with a sigh.

[When do you *think* it was?]

‘…….’

[Hmm? Answer me. I won’t laugh.]

‘When I risk my life in battle? When I swing my sword with all my might, or when I focus just to survive, isn’t it then?’

[How romantic!]

Well, that’s the feeling most imagine, isn’t it?

The moment of enlightenment, of shedding a layer of yourself, must surely be.

In such a life-or-death crisis.

In a situation with your back against the edge.

[Rather, I shall ask *you*.]

The grandmaster shakes the empty bottle with a sigh.

He adjusts his posture, then smiles, facing Isaac.

[Then, why do people die?]

‘…’

[A moment of dire crisis? A life-or-death situation? Those come to everyone. Such obvious circumstances. Do you gain enlightenment each time?]

Each step is heavy.

[Everyone dies. Do not place weight on death. Is it not called enlightenment precisely because it does not come from the commonplace?]

The wind whips like a hammer, pressing on his head, the stairs must be nearing the top.

Isaac crosses the completely frozen steps, layered with frost and icicles, reaching the top of the rampart.

[Haha! Well? Do you understand a little now?]

‘Understand… what?’

The high-altitude wind sweeps past his body.

White, frosty breath escapes him.

Through the blurry white mist, Jonathan and Sharen lie fallen.

[Do you still not know? Enlightenment is considered precious precisely because it is not universal. Think of it the other way around.]

Bricalla’s four hands, which had been drumming her chest, still.

As if sick and tired of returning, she snorts and roars, spewing her blazing rage towards Isaac.

[Enlightenment does not come from things everyone faces like death, but from situations that are not readily experienced, isn’t that right?]

Scattering the falling snow, lightning strikes like spears in every direction.

The condensed mana takes the form of lightning, making him marvel at the quantity that remains.

‘What is it?’

He settles into stance.

His right leg, bold, forward.

His left leg, like a pillar, fixing his body.

His hand goes to the blade at his waist, naturally assuming the stance he always takes.

[What, you ask?]

The grandmaster’s smile, like a crescent moon.

[You know it well from writing the manual, do you not?]

[When the moon was at its brightest, who was wielding the sword?]

‘…….’

[Under stars’ watch, dawn breaking, who was it swung a sword?]

[Or, who were they, soaked in sweat, watching the moon retreat and the sunrise bloom?]

[Who was it cried out, a yell before the cock’s crow?]

[Who was it, repeating this same deed every single day?]

[Rare indeed. A cur who spends his hours like that.]

*Thump!*

The Grandmaster’s staff striking the floor and Bri’kala’s footsteps, they overlap.

Isaac snaps to, and there, before him, a distance kept, he sees Bri’kala, poised for a fight.

[It is him.]

‘…….’

[He, the one you call touched by enlightenment.]

*Fzzzt-Fzzzt-Fzzzt!*

Bri’kala’s electricity bursts out in every direction. Just like before, waves of current meant to pin down Isaac’s sword, to keep him suppressed.

A sword, it slides from its sheath. Like liquid.

Here, in this north.

He swung his blade when the moon shone brightest.

Held it even as stars witnessed the first light.

Watched the moon give way, the sun climb, sweat-drenched.

Yelled his challenge before even the cocks woke.

And.

He repeated it every single day.

“The instant of the draw-”

The end, beyond that he had touched.

That is why they call it Dai-Iai (Great Quick-Draw).

A line, silver and sharp, is drawn.

It stretches, ever stretching, reaching a place beyond knowing.

Severing a fiend’s neck was merely.

A single step in his stride.

[To call it enlightenment, does that not cheapen it?]

[And so, to give it a name, if one must.]

[Transcendence.]