“Bullshit.”A chilling voice rang out. It was completely different from the tone he’d just used with me.
The moment Hugo Rhapsody appeared, the Descendant of Khan’s emotions shifted—his rage was unmistakable. And when a Swordmaster expresses rage, that emotion alone becomes a weapon. As the Descendant of Khan unleashed his fury, Hugo Rhapsody spoke:
“Run, Karavan.”
“...What do you mean?”
“Toma wants to be your friend. So you must survive.”
Hugo Rhapsody flicked his gaze.
“That idiot lying over there—the one with the golden bloodline—take him too. If you don’t run right now, you won’t make it out alive, Karavan.”
“Run… where am I supposed to go?”
“Anywhere. Just run as far from here as you can.”
Huff. The jet-black horse snorted violently.
Hugo Rhapsody muttered:
“If you keep running without looking back, your friend will help you.”
I still didn’t understand what he meant. The one attacking Visente wasn’t just the Descendant of Khan. His conquering army was sweeping through the city, turning it into a hellscape. There couldn’t possibly be a friend of mine here. But there was no time left to ask more questions.
The Descendant of Khan opened his mouth wide and roared.
“──!”
At that moment, the black horse charged. And with its charge, the battle began. In an instant, both the Descendant of Khan and Hugo Rhapsody vanished— and then reappeared, high above the ground. Their blades collided mid-air, unleashing a shockwave that shook the world. Amid that crushing tremor, Hugo Rhapsody shouted:
“Go—!”
The moment his shout rang out, I threw Zeppelin Gold over my shoulder and began to run.
All around me, chaos reigned. People were dying everywhere. Their screams were desperate, but I couldn’t save them. All I could do was run— just as Hugo Rhapsody said. Without looking back. Just forward. Keep going forward.
***
“Hugo Rhapsody. Lord of the Waves.”
After confirming Arhan’s retreat, Hugo Rhapsody turned his gaze forward.
There stood the Descendant of Khan, astride his black horse.
“The fool who lost the Free City. The coward who abandoned his duty and fled from the gods’ eyes— How dare you show yourself before me?”
“Should I not have?”
“Have you forgotten? I am not only a Swordmaster, but a Great Warrior who carries the eternal will of my sleeping Father. You are the blasphemous Swordmaster who defied the will of Heaven—!”
His voice rang like thunder.
As the Descendant of Khan unleashed his pressure, Hugo Rhapsody carefully raised his sword.
Yes. He knew.
The Descendant of Khan was not just a Swordmaster— He was also the Great Warrior of one of the Seven Lords. An unbelievable combination. Before Carlos had risen, the title “Strongest Sword on the Continent” had referred to this man.
Hugo Rhapsody remembered well how the Descendant of Khan had dominated the battlefield. A Swordmaster who wielded divine power and miracles— He was a monstrous force.
Even as a fellow Swordmaster, Hugo knew the gap between them was immense. And to make matters worse, Hugo had lost one of his arms in a duel to protect his son.
Even at full strength, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Now, he would be facing this monster—with one arm.
“They say you lost that arm to Russell White— that emasculated man, whipped by his wife. Do you really think that blade, which couldn't even defeat a Watcher who hunts monsters, can stop me?”
“I know I can’t stop you.”
“Then what? You think I’ll show you mercy?”
Hugo knew the kind of man the Descendant of Khan was. A creature who scorned laws and rules, who lived only for war and slaughter. A man who called himself war and destroyed everything in his path. He slaughtered women and children without a second thought.
Whatever mercy Russell White had once shown Hugo— he would receive no such thing from this lunatic. But
“Maybe you could show it once in your life?”
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Like the time you grabbed Carlos’s pant leg, wet yourself, and begged for your life— and he let you go because you disgusted him.”
Mercy?
He didn’t need it.
“...I’ll give you one chance to take that back.”
“Why would I? It really happened, after all.”
Delaying time? Not hard for Hugo Rhapsody.
“Or… were you so humiliated that you blocked it from your memory?”
Hugo’s objective was simple: get Arhan Karavan out safely.
There was no reason to risk his life dueling this war god, this living disaster of a man.
“──!”
The Descendant of Khan roared again. Now fully unrestrained, he charged directly at Hugo. His jet-black horse became a black flash. The strike from his blade like a hurricane. But no matter how powerful a strike is, it means nothing if it doesn’t hit.
“Hu—go!”
Of all the swords known, his was the fastest. No blade could match Rhapsody’s sword.
“Don’t call my name.”
With the sound of crashing waves, Hugo soared high above.
The Descendant of Khan’s blade tore through empty air. Hugo, now a free wave, looked back to see Arhan still running.
‘That’s right. Keep going.’
Once, Russell White had shown him mercy. Because of that, he saved his son—and vanished from the world. Now, the Swordmaster who once abandoned his divine duty had returned to the world for one reason: ‘Faster.’
Because Karavan must not die here. The bloodline of steel must not vanish—not now.
‘Go.’
For this world. And for the world his son would live in.
***
Zeppelin Gold was still unconscious. And honestly, that was for the best. If he saw this scene he might have lost his mind. His beloved secretary, Baltimo, had died a humiliating death. His mercenary corps, the ones who followed him loyally, were now perishing like moths to a flame.
The residents he had invited to his proud festival, every single one of them… was dead.
‘I’ve grown attached to this place, too!’
‘Zeppelin! Zeppelin!’
‘Keep calling my name! Hahaha!’
The building that once bore his face. Rebuilt with money from the Black Archipelago. Now it lay in ruins, burning.
The boy who had high-fived Zeppelin, crushed beneath rubble, tongue hanging out in death.
The flower-loving girl— her head smashed like a walnut, struck by a brick engraved with Zeppelin’s own face.
‘The dark beer is delicious.’
‘It’s all thanks to Lord Zeppelin!’
‘You’re our hero, too, Lord Zeppelin!’
Zeppelin had loved being called a hero.
He remembered the names of street kids. He never forgot even the smallest stories. Though he wore a mask in business, I had spent enough time with him to know, Zeppelin Gold had a deep heart. He couldn’t help but love those who gave him love.
That’s why if he woke now, he would never be able to bear this. War. Death. Sorrow. Loss. Helplessness. Rage.
It was all far too much for someone like Zeppelin Gold.
I kept running. And still I heard the distant thunderclaps of swordmasters clashing.
The two absolute beings continued their battle, shaking the earth.
I had to get farther away. I didn’t know why Hugo Rhapsody was helping me. But if I missed this chance—I would die. I couldn’t die. Not yet. Not until I achieved my goal.
No matter what, I must survive.
So I ran with all I had. Over collapsed ruins, around broken alleyways, And then…
“Rat.”
Clang! My body was thrown back.
I almost fell, but managed to recover with a roll, still clutching Zeppelin tightly. Looking up, I saw a man with braided hair. Eyes like a hawk. He held a long, curved blade and stared at me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“……”
“No one will leave this place alive. Where the Eternal Sun passes—only death may remain. Peace with no exceptions.”
Damn it.
I bit my lip and raised my sword.
I opened my Path—but none of the paths reached him.
Why?
‘He’s in a far higher realm than me…’
My Path was blocked. By something invisible.
No—‘invisible wall’ isn’t the right word.
It was ‘Armor.’
Yes. Armor.
‘He’s a Sword Expert.’
My mind was reeling.
A Sword Expert, right after a Swordmaster.
Such overwhelming forces did not belong in the peaceful Southern Continent.
I raised my sword, facing the man’s crushing presence.
‘Can I… even fight him?’
I have eight pairs of wings now.
I was nearly at the final threshold of the Sword Runner.
But even I knew the wall of a Sword Expert was tall.
The armor they wore made them nearly invincible. Among all my techniques, only one could possibly pierce it.
Polished Light.
The sword that wounded even a god-summoning Great Warrior.
If anything could shred a Sword Expert’s armor, it was that.
But… would it work?
A Sword Expert stood at the pinnacle of a Sword Runner.
Polished Light was full of flaws—long wind-up, obvious movement.
Could I even land it?
“My lord…”
At that moment, Zeppelin Gold stirred. He was waking—drawn back by the sounds of battle.
And then I knew.
It wasn’t a question of “Can I land it?”
It had to land.
To survive.
“Huuu—”
I took a deep breath.
Preparing to fight.
But it wasn’t necessary.
“My lord!”
Boom!
A thunderous crash rang out. And in that moment, a bolt of lightning carved through the air. From within that lightning a familiar, welcome face appeared.
“Young Master Arhan! From this moment, I’ll assist you!”
The one Hugo Rhapsody had called “your friend” was Tom.
The kind, talkative old man. Caretaker of the Hall of Heroes.
And
“You should go save your other friend, Young Master.”
A Sword Expert.