A full day had passed since leaving the town of Harmunde. The North Road was gradually changing its appearance. The stone-paved path had long since disappeared, replaced by dry ground mixed with gravel and red earth. The trees on both sides had thinned out, and rocks were increasing instead. The wind had lost its moisture, and Halden Owen's lips had become chapped. Halden Owen watched Vincent Lila's sword as they walked. She had improved considerably since yesterday. The way she placed her feet had changed. The inward-turned stance she'd had until the day before was now corrected. Whether she was conscious of it or not, he couldn't tell. But her body was beginning to remember—and Owen could sense that feeling. "Your grip is different." Lila stopped walking, still holding her sword. "[surprised]Eh, my grip again? I fixed it yesterday." "It's about how you apply force. Hold it like an egg." "An egg...?" Lila murmured softly to herself and adjusted her grip on the sword's hilt. She relaxed her strength. Not so hard as to break it, but not so loose as to drop it. The balance was difficult. As she furrowed her brow in concentration, suddenly the sword felt right. "[surprised]Ah!" It felt like the sword was clinging to her hand. Completely different from before. Lila couldn't help but cry out. Owen glanced at her sideways. His expression didn't change. But deep in his eyes, there was something faint. Not quite satisfaction—or rather, to be precise, that quiet sense of fulfillment when something that should be in its place settles there. "[gentle]Try swinging it like that." Lila swung the sword. Her wrist didn't waver. Before, it had felt like the sword was "swinging her," but now it felt like she was swinging it. Just that one thing made such a difference. "That's amazing... it's completely different." The two continued walking. --- In the early afternoon, they took a break when the road came alongside a stream. They refilled their water and ate some preserved food. As Lila sat down on a rock, the sound of the stream flowing gently sounded cool. Lila spoke quietly, her feet turned toward the stream. "Actually... I didn't start learning the sword because Gaya asked me to." Owen was looking at the stream. He said nothing. "I decided for myself. To live in Granveld, you need a sword or you die. That's all there was to it." Lila said it with a laugh. But the tone of her voice was just slightly lower. Her smile, her words, and her voice didn't quite align. Owen gazed at the flow of the stream. He didn't respond. Only the sound of water passing over rocks continued. That silence was strangely not heavy. He wasn't angry, nor was he exasperated. There was simply the quietness of having listened. Lila felt that and said nothing more. After a while, just as she was about to stand up, her foot slipped. Thud. "[surprised]Wah...!" She fell on her backside near the rocks. The ground was damp. It didn't hurt, but it was quite an awkward position. Owen silently extended his hand. Lila reflexively said "I'm fine!" and sprang to her feet. Only then did she notice Owen's hand. "I-I'm sorry... it's too late now..." Her face had turned red. Owen simply walked on as if nothing had happened. --- They arrived at the abandoned village of Kassa as the sun began to set. The ruins of a village destroyed in the Zeldgan War—buildings with only their frames remaining, stone walls half-buried in grass, the outlines of what had once been homes. There was no sign of people. Only the wind blew. The two set up a camp in the shadow of a crumbling building. They gathered dry wood and started a fire. The flames swayed as if pushing back the darkening air. Lila sat on the other side of the fire, playing with a stick. Suddenly, the light of the flames illuminated Owen's left cheek. A deep scar was carved there. Not straight, but diagonal and complex. It wasn't the mark of a blade entering in one stroke. It was a scar left from struggling, from grappling. "[serious]...When did you get that scar?" Owen paused for a moment. "Fifty years ago." "Fifty years... from the Zeldgan War?" Owen nodded. Then he slowly began to speak. "I faced the Demon Lord Zeldgan directly once. When I was twenty years old. I was the vanguard of the hero's party, the one who charged first." The fire crackled. "That was the first time—I truly thought I would die. My whole body burned with heat. My legs were shaking. But I kept swinging my sword. I gave everything. All of it. There has never been another moment when I felt so alive." His words stopped there. Owen said nothing more. He didn't say "I don't have that feeling anymore." But it was there in the gaps between his words. In his eyes as he looked at the flames. Lila stared at the fire in silence for a while. Then she spoke quietly. "[gentle]...You don't want to die. You want to live. One last time, for real." Owen's mouth stopped. It was the silence of someone caught in the truth—a silence without words. He tried to say something, but words wouldn't come. He only looked at the flames. Lila glanced at Owen from the corner of her eye. Her expression suggested she wondered if she'd said too much. But Owen wasn't angry. He was simply, quietly watching the fire. That night, the two said nothing more. But the air between them was softer than before. --- The next morning, about two hours after leaving the abandoned village, they saw figures ahead. Five men stood in the middle of the red earth road. They wore leather armor and carried short swords and long swords at their sides. On their chests was an iron claw-like emblem—the mark of the Iron Fang Company. A mercenary band based in Granveld with nearly three hundred members. The man in front raised his hand. "[cold]Stop. Toll. Ten silver coins." His tone was rough. He spoke with the lightness of someone quoting a fee to a tourist. "Everyone who approaches Granveld pays. Old man and young lady alike." Owen spoke quietly. "I won't pay." The air around the five men changed. "[angry]...Ah, is that so?" He had decided there was no point in negotiating. All five drew their swords at once. Lila stepped back several paces. The next moment, all five charged. Owen took one step forward. He swung his sword once. Almost simultaneously, five dry metallic sounds rang out in succession. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. The weapons shattered in the mercenaries' hands. The blade hadn't touched anyone's body. He hadn't cut or struck. Pure sword pressure alone had shattered the steel—sword qi, the realm reached by fifty years of training. The mercenaries looked at the hilts of their shattered swords. Then at Owen. Then at their hands again. Slowly, all five sat down on the ground. Their legs wouldn't move. Lila watched the entire exchange from several paces back. Goosebumps covered her entire body. She could feel all the hair on her arms standing on end. Her throat was dry. Her mouth wouldn't open. (This old man... it wasn't something to laugh about.) She thought that in her heart, but couldn't voice it. Couldn't. The mercenaries said nothing and got to their feet, running back the way they came at full speed. They grew smaller and smaller as they kicked up dust. Owen sheathed his sword. Click, it sounded. "[gentle]Let's go." He said only that and walked on. Lila stood frozen for a while, unable to move. --- The five mercenaries who fled went straight to the Toruka branch. Toruka—a settlement of about twelve hundred people located at the southern edge of Granveld, with wooden buildings scattered across red earth ground. The Iron Fang Company had established a base here and controlled the collection of tolls from travelers. The five men who entered the branch office were all trembling. All of them had their weapons shattered at the hilt. Markel Sergi, the squad leader, listened to the report in silence. Thirty-six years old, a female mercenary with calculating eyes. She rested her chin on her hand and watched her subordinates tremble with no emotion. "Five men, all their weapons shattered by a single old man." She repeated the words as if to confirm them. No emotion in her voice. "Understood. Dismissed." She sent her subordinates out and was alone. The old man's strength was real. A user of sword qi—one of the fewer than fifty such true swordsmen said to exist across the entire continent. That such a being would enter Granveld was outside Sergi's calculations. If left unchecked, it would disrupt the balance of the organization. In Sergi's mind, gears began to turn quietly. --- At the same time, in the royal capital Sedrica. In the morning report at the royal palace Brengard, the security chief informed King Vales III—the sword instruction room was empty. The instructor hadn't been seen since last night. The color drained from Vales III's face. "The teacher has..." He immediately summoned the four great ministers who were his direct disciples—those among the Twelve Councils whom Owen had personally taught swordsmanship. All of them looked pale. As a result of the meeting, an order for a search to the north was issued. Captain Kaine's knight order, stationed in Harmunde, began moving ahead. Owen still didn't know any of this. --- In the evening, the two prepared camp on a small hill. Beyond the horizon, the colors of Granveld began to appear. Red-brown earth and rocky ridges. Completely different from the green of the southern regions—a dry landscape. Lila spoke as she gazed at that scenery. "That's where I was born." It wasn't boastful or mournful. She said it as a simple fact. Owen, still looking into the distance, spoke quietly. "It's not a bad place." Lila smiled a little. "Teacher, I think you might be the first person to ever compliment Granveld." Then her expression became serious. "[serious]That sword pressure from today—how long would it take me to learn to use it?" "Twenty years." It was an immediate answer. Lila's eyes took on a distant look. Like she was looking beyond the horizon, beyond what lay further out. "[serious]...If I trained while being taught, could I do it in ten years?" "If you could do it in ten years, you'd be a genius." "And if I'm not a genius?" "Fifteen years." Lila laughed. "[gentle]Then please teach me, even if it takes fifteen years." Owen didn't answer. He simply added wood to the fire. The flames grew slightly larger, illuminating both their faces. That silence was not a refusal, and Lila understood that. Beyond the red-brown ridges, night was approaching. Toruka was still one hundred sixty kilometers away. Ahead, Sergi's mind was turning its gears. Behind them, the kingdom's knights had begun to move. The two didn't know any of this yet.