Turning-Chapter 861

General Gino’s aura was not particularly strong compared to the Sword Masters of the past. In fact, the length of his sword scar engraved on the Master’s Wall in the capital was absurdly short when compared to the Imperial Sword Scar left behind by the First Emperor, and even its force was not especially deep compared to other historical Sword Masters.

And yet, the reason he was called the most respected Sword Master on the continent wasn’t merely because of his upright and incorruptible nature or the life he lived that seemed to prove it.

Gino Bodelli had spent most of his youth wandering endlessly without settling down, from being born into a humble noble family to reaching the middle age at which he became a Master. Despite being nobility, he accumulated experiences closer to a commoner’s life, roaming wherever he could learn the sword. In the end, the sword he forged through those journeys was praised as possessing the greatest freedom and restraint on the continent.

A Master capable of slicing an apple into six equal pieces with aura alone—a power so difficult to draw forth, so unruly to wield, that the act itself was nearly a miracle. A swordsman with techniques unbound by form, and a delicacy supported by sheer persistence.

That was Gino Bodelli.

He hadn’t taken the field in a long time, but his experience hadn’t dulled. Not even for a moment did General Gino’s sword act recklessly; it maintained its own tempo. Completely different from young Awakeners who, still unaccustomed to their own abilities, often lost control in the heat of battle without understanding what level of force was appropriate.

Rather than rushing forward to slash through monsters, the general focused on helping Awakeners who nearly found themselves in danger while fighting. Thanks to him, many Awakeners who disregarded their own safety were spared from serious injuries.

“Be careful. There are still so many left to face. It’d be a shame if you were hurt and had to retreat already, wouldn’t it?”

He inspired respect with nothing but the sight of himself holding a sword—no reprimands, no orders.

Anyone who saw that figure found their excessive excitement settling down on its own, and one by one, as if by silent agreement, they followed him. The air, once like a herd of raging buffalo, calmed, and the mood became newly redefined. Their anger harnessed, gathered into one shared will, they now resembled a single, finely forged blade.

The Empire’s greatest swordsman began fulfilling the role Kishiar had asked of him, step by steady step.

“It truly is General Gino. We don’t need to send any more support here.”

“What? Ah, you’re...”

As she watched her respected mentor’s back, Meghna was gathering those who’d fallen behind due to injuries along with the non-Awakeners. At the sound of a low voice out of nowhere, she turned her head in surprise. Nathan Zuckerman was staring blankly in the direction of General Gino.

Though she and General Gino had come to where most of the Cavalry had headed, Nathan had disappeared in the complete opposite direction shortly after arriving. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon.

All Meghna knew about Nathan was that he was once an old retainer knight of Duke Peleta, and that, as it turned out, he too was a Sword Master. Honestly, even though her mentor had acknowledged him, she’d held some doubt—until she hadn’t noticed his approach even when he was right next to her.

‘So it’s true.’

Even if she wasn’t a Master yet, Meghna Curlieva was one of the top ten swordsmen in the Empire. In all her life, only her master had ever managed to completely deceive her senses like that.

Which meant that this knight, who had quietly served his lord without ever making a name for himself, truly did possess skill on par with Gino Bodelli.

“Sir Zuckerman, have you already cleared the area you went to?”

When Meghna cautiously asked, Nathan Zuckerman replied without a change in expression.

“Yes. Monsters were approaching the area where the non-Awakeners had gathered, so I took care of that first. From now on, I’ll survey the situation from high ground and clear the most dangerous areas first.”

It was dangerous work to take on alone. But coming from Nathan Zuckerman, it sounded as easy and natural as mentioning the order of household chores.

Is that what all Sword Masters become—so relaxed? Meghna swallowed her small question and nodded.

“Understood. If the General asks, I’ll inform him. And if you ever require assistance from our side, please give us a signal. Although someone of your level, Sir Zuckerman, might not find it necessary...”

“I don’t quite see it that way.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

She added the last part, just in case her words came off as insulting a Sword Master’s pride—but Nathan Zuckerman’s reply was unexpected.

“I alone cannot hold back that many monsters. If Deputy Curlieva is willing to cooperate, I would gladly welcome it.”

“Ah... I see. That’s a relief, then.”

Meghna answered somewhat awkwardly. Just as Nathan Zuckerman seemed ready to turn away with his sword in hand, he stopped.

He stared at Meghna with an unreadable expression for a moment, then opened his mouth.

“My lord, Duke Peleta, used to say that a single person with great power can never compare to the strength of ten thousand ordinary hands. No matter how extraordinary a Master may be, we are still only human—and never absolute.”

“...”

“So I’d prefer to be called not a Master, but a knight who serves his lord. I hope you’ll see me that way.”

With those words, Nathan Zuckerman vanished in a leap. Meghna stood still for a long time, staring in the direction he had gone, lost in thought.

Not a Master, but a knight who serves his lord... Those words somehow stirred something inside her, as if reminding her of the name and purpose she’d long forgotten.

‘I see. I’m not a swordsman who wants to become a Master... I’m the Deputy to the General. And now, in his stead, I’m a soldier responsible for leading this place.’

“Deputy Curlieva!”

Just then, someone called out to her urgently. Meghna quickly turned and ran toward the voice. As she raised her hand and began giving commands with practiced ease, her gaze no longer followed the back of her mentor.

“Ugh... uugh... What the hell is this...”

At the same time. Kiole, face twisted in misery, held onto the unconscious Crown Prince on his back as hail pelted his head and body with terrifying force. With every step, the sensation of his feet sinking into the muck was unbearable.

“It hurts... it’s cold... it stinks... it’s disgusting...!”

Just moments ago, the defensive barrier Yuder had left around Kiole and the Crown Prince had been perfectly intact. No matter how loud the noise outside or how many fragments fell, the sturdy wall repelled everything. But it had suddenly vanished when a thunderous roar rang out and a strange crack appeared in the pitch-black sky.

Kiole had panicked for a long while. At first, he thought Yuder would return soon. But no matter how long he waited, the man never came. And with the hail falling this hard, he couldn’t just leave the Crown Prince lying there. His only choice was to carry him somewhere safe.

Kiole covered the prince’s head with his own coat and hoisted him onto his back. The prince might’ve looked young for his age, but he was still in his late teens and far from light. And with Kiole on high alert for whatever might appear, his steps became agonizingly slow.

Suppressing the hot tears rising in his eyes, Kiole cursed Yuder Aile with all his might.

“Damn monster bastard... Talking like he’d leave an unbreakable barrier until he got back, and now he just drops it without warning? What, am I supposed to just fend for myself now?!”

Clatter! As if in response to his swearing, chunks of hail smacked him three times in the forehead, bounced off, and hit the Crown Prince on his back.

The flash of pain made Kiole let out a strangled scream, and he flinched at the groan he suddenly heard from behind.

“Ugh... Where... am I...”

“Y-Your Highness? Are you awake?”

“...Sir Kiole?”

At last, Crown Prince Kachian had come to his senses. He opened his eyes, blinking blankly at his surroundings for a long time, seemingly unable to grasp what was happening—until a chunk of hail struck his shoulder, causing him to frown.

“Where are we? I remember... I went out to assist the Sage... but this place... what is this hellish place? And when did you bring me here?”

Kiole immediately answered, trying to prevent any suspicion toward himself.

“We’re still inside the temple, Your Highness! I was shocked beyond words when I heard there were rioters. You have {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} no idea!” fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

He claimed he had found the Crown Prince unconscious after someone had attacked him and had hidden with him. Kiole conveniently left out any mention of Star of Nagran or Yuder Aile, and greatly exaggerated his own efforts.

But the Crown Prince cut him off, furious, before he could even finish.

“What? Then what about the Sage? You mean you brought me away without even checking on the Sage?!”

“Your Highness, now’s not the time for that! We must get you to safety immediately—”

“Silence. Who gave you permission to speak?”

A loud smack rang out across Kiole’s cheek. The Crown Prince, fuming, shook off the hand he’d just struck him with.