Through the gaps in the bars, his fingertips touched the hilt of the short sword. That night——the night he was thrown into the cell, stripped of his blade, and shed tears——was over. Now it was deep night. After confirming the guard's footsteps fading into the distance, Halden Owen slowly knelt down. He slipped his fingers through the bars. The chains bit into his wrists. Still, he stretched further. He reached it. Drawing the short sword closer, Halden Owen stood. He had no intention of fighting with the blade. What he needed was this——the feel of metal. A whetstone to awaken the sensations in fingertips honed over fifty years. He squeezed out his sword aura toward the keyhole. Sword aura——a technique only those who had mastered both training and actual combat could achieve, layering pressure onto their strikes. It required no incantation, no catalyst. Only the pressure refined from deep within the body, concentrated at the fingertips. In his youth, it would have taken seconds. Now it took nearly ten minutes. With a dull *crack*, the padlock warped inward and came free. He removed the chain restraints the same way, deforming each ring one by one. *I've grown old*, Halden Owen thought. He didn't deny it. It was fact. But right now, there was something else he had to do first. He stepped outside the cell. Night wind brushed his cheek. The smell of red earth. A silence without even the sound of insects. Halden Owen clenched his fist around the chain marks on his wrist, then opened it, stretching his body. No sword. No armor. But this body itself was fifty years of weaponry——the moment that thought crossed his mind, he saw a figure in the darkness of the alley. Ten meters ahead. Motionless. Moonlight outlined its silhouette. Black hair with a deep crimson line. The upper half of the face covered with black cloth. A black sword in the left hand, a white sword in the right. Height exceeding one hundred eighty-five centimeters, stance utterly without waste. Killing intent repainted the night air. Every hair on Halden Owen's body stood on end. This was different from the Iron Fang mercenaries. What this man radiated was the presence of a true swordsman——no, something beyond that. "[cold]Are you the Sword Saint?" A low voice. Emotionless. Less a question than a confirmation. Halden Owen immediately understood this was not one of Markel Sergi's subordinates. Sergi would have ordered him recaptured. But this man stood purely as a swordsman. His purpose and origins unknown——yet his entire being spoke that the reason he was here was to fight. Just as Halden Owen was about to say something. From deeper in the alley, a brown goat ambled out. A stray goat from Toruka. The same one that had headbutted Vincent Lila before. The goat showed no concern for the nighttime alley, approaching Volkan's feet. And then——it licked the sheath of the white sword in his right hand. Volkan shifted half a step to the side, subtly. He made no sound. His eyebrows barely moved. But that slight lateral shift——Halden Owen didn't miss it. The goat advanced further, pressing its head against the sheath again. Volkan's eyebrows furrowed, faintly, very faintly. *(……This man gets bothered by things too.)* Halden Owen thought this, then immediately tightened his expression. The next instant, Volkan stepped in. The goat was nowhere to be seen anymore. The white sword traced an arc. Fast. In the moment Halden Owen stepped back and dodged by a hair's breadth——the black sword came running from the side. Unavoidable. He rotated his entire body. He should have evaded. Heat ran across his left cheek. A single line of blood flowed. Fifty years ago——on that battlefield where he crossed blades with Demon Lord Zeldgan, a wound had appeared in this exact spot. From the same location as that old scar, blood now seeped. From the sensation of that pain, something awakened. The night in the abandoned village of Kassa. The flames of the bonfire. Lila gazing at the fire, speaking quietly—— "You don't want to die. You want to live, one last time with all your strength." Halden Owen laughed, feeling the blood on his cheek. That smile made Volkan's next step falter for an instant. Not the face of one resigned to death. *I understand now*, Halden Owen thought. This is what I was seeking——but not to die. There is still a sword I must teach Lila. The people of Toruka must be saved. Living with all one's strength until the end and fighting with one's life on the line——they are not contradictory. The sensation of sword aura overflowing from deep within his body filled him. This time, he would not defend. He would advance. Volkan's white and black swords came simultaneously. Halden Owen crossed both wrists and caught their flats. Bare hands catching steel would shatter bone. But the pressure of sword aura created a wall around his wrists, scattering the impact outward. The next instant——he spread both arms outward explosively. *DOOOOOM!!* A shockwave tore through the alley. The wall boards of Toruka's buildings shook. Sand dust from the ground blew away in a circle. Volkan's dual swords were sent flying, and Volkan himself——took two steps back. This man had retreated. Volkan's eyes, which rarely showed emotion, narrowed. For the first time, a flicker of agitation appeared. Halden Owen stood facing him, still unarmed. He steadied his breathing. Numbness ran through his wrists. There was no guarantee he could do that again. Yet he stood. The two repositioned their distance. In that moment. Footsteps echoed from the corner of the alley. "[excited]Teacher, your sword!" Water-colored hair tousled in the night wind as Lila came running. Both hands cradled a long sword wrapped in cloth. Her face was pale, her legs trembling slightly——the face of someone who had run forward despite facing Volkan's killing intent head-on. She threw it toward Halden Owen. He extended his right hand. Grasped the hilt. ——It had returned. The nameless long sword he had wielded for over fifty years. No name. No ornamentation. Just a blade that knew the weight of this hand. The years he walked with his wife Elis, the days he taught his disciples, the late-night practice swings——all of it had been with this. His spine straightened. All hesitation vanished from the hand holding the sword. Lila had goosebumps. The person who moments ago seemed aged in that cell now——overlapped with the figure from fifty years past. Volkan turned back toward Halden Owen. A long silence stretched between them. Then Volkan sheathed both swords simultaneously. Not because he had lost the will to fight. The light in his eyes remained unchanged. But something in his calculations had shifted, and he had decided not to continue. "[cold]That's all for today. You and I……will settle this eventually." He turned on his heel. Walking into the night's darkness. His footsteps faded. Eventually, they vanished. Halden Owen did not pursue. Not because he couldn't, but because he judged that protecting the residents and Lila came first now. As Volkan's back disappeared down the alley, questions circled endlessly in his mind. Why had that man cut down several of the Iron Fang's officers? Why was he here tonight? He hadn't come to defeat Sergi——his movements were as if he had come to test Halden Owen. His purpose was completely unclear. "[scared]……What was that person?" Lila murmured softly, gazing down the alley where Volkan had vanished. "[serious]I don't know. But……I don't think he's an enemy." He answered briefly, wiping the bleeding left cheek with the back of his hand. Then he immediately turned back to Lila. "[gentle]Is Gaya safe?" Lila nodded firmly. To retrieve the sword, she had extracted the location of the Iron Fang's barracks back storage from Gaya. The two of them had slipped in through the rear entrance during the mercenary shift change and found the long sword wrapped in cloth. She hadn't known if her teacher could escape, but she had decided absolutely that the sword must be recovered——Lila said this, her cheeks flushing slightly. "If you couldn't escape, I kept thinking what I'd do. But the sword……I absolutely didn't want to give it up." Halden Owen said nothing. He had no words to return. Night wind swept through the alley. The smell of red earth mixed with the scent of distant bonfires. Toruka's settlement remained quiet, and the Iron Fang's sentries were moving somewhere. Markel Sergi's encirclement continued. Gaya was still in their hands. The false information sent to Calvin remained uncorrected. Nothing had been resolved. But——Halden Owen closed his hand around the sword hilt once, as if to confirm. It was there. It had returned. The next battle began from here.