The 9th Class Swordmaster: Blade of Truth

Chapter 306: The Master of the North (1)

“You’re awake?”

“...How long have I been unconscious?”

“An entire day. You collapsed as soon as Hwarin announced the Great Warrior's title."

Karyl opened his eyes and slowly rose from bed. His body felt heavy.

“I must have looked ridiculous... A Great Warrior fainting right after receiving the title.”

“Don’t worry. No one would dare say anything after witnessing that battle. The one who fought you, Hwarin, is still bedridden.”

“Oh, really...? Is it because of my poison?”

Karyl frowned slightly at Zigra's words. He knew better than anyone the potency of the venom from Mael’s Freezing Talon. Hwarin, who could wield the Will of then Lycan, one of Blader’s sacred relics, was an important asset. If something happened to her, it would be a great loss.

“No, she refused treatment herself. She said it was an opportunity to further develop the venom arts of the Jannabi tribe. If anything, she’s the chief of the tribe. Anyone else would have been dead by now.”

Karyl let out a bitter laugh at Zigra’s explanation. He had no choice but to raise his hands in acknowledgment of her boldness, using even the brink of death as an opportunity to advance her tribe.

“Well... she was already a monster even without using the Master Key.”

“The elders have all expressed their approval of you as the Great Warrior. Some still have complaints, but they can’t say anything outwardly. The chiefs who followed them have already convinced them.”

“Is that so?”

“There is no one among the immigrant tribes who would defy a Great Warrior.”

Karyl nodded.

While the Cold Wind, Iron, Feline, and Thunder tribes couldn’t individually rival the combat prowess of the Jannabi, Red Moon, Tiger Shield, or Black-Eyed, each possessed unique strengths of their own.

The Cold Wind warriors made for excellent scouts thanks to their light bodies, while the Iron and Thunder tribes possessed superior abilities in handling fire and steel.

I should send them to the Frost Plateau not far from the north to cooperate with the gnomes. If we can gather the dwarves from Tatur as well, the development of golems and elemental stones will progress much faster.

Karyl had already seen the golem units and newly equipped wyvern forces in action once in the Three Kingdoms of Istria. What had been an unattainable power in his previous life was now even more enhanced and part of his forces, which was already a significant success.

With Calypson’s craftsmanship, the synthesis results of the octagonal elemental stones should be coming out soon...

Karyl hadn’t forgotten his deal with Gordon Fabian of the Guidance Mercenary Gang, and there was no better opportunity to solidify his power.

The Five Sword Masters each have their own specialties, but Gordon Fabian is the most unpredictable of them all. Last time, we aligned because we had the same goal, but who knows what will happen next time we meet.

In his previous life, Gordon had succumbed to his illness at a young age, and after that, the Guidance Mercenary Gang had been absorbed by the empire.

But this time, things are different. Gordon is still alive, and if I complete the power source for the airship, I can negotiate with him.

Karyl, unaware of the meeting between Olivurn and Gordon Fabian, thought he was sufficiently prepared for the reunion with the Guidance Mercenary Gang.

But the key player to secure things will still be Mikhail. If he returns from the Ivory Tower of Dawn with his name etched into the Dawn Council, the imperial sorcerers will look at things differently.

Around the same time, Karyl had sent Aidan and Mikhail to different parts of the world. Aidan had returned from the Eastern Land, but there was still no news of Mikhail, who had gone to the Ivory Tower of Dawn.

The Ivory Tower of Dawn isn’t far from here... If need be, I could go see him myself.

For now, Karyl decided to leave it in Mikhail’s hands. The Ivory Tower of Dawn had sorcerers more advanced than Mikhail, and proving himself and being acknowledged in such a place would not be an easy task.

“Can I meet the elders?”

“Of course.”

“Though the chiefs persuaded them, the elders still hold influence within the immigrant tribes.”

And I’ll need their help to reach the Thousand-Year Ice Cave...

Recalling memories from his previous life, Karyl nodded.

“It seems your thoughts are aligned with theirs. The elders have been waiting since the festival ended. And the master is with them.”

“Hmm.”

Karyl nodded at Zigra’s words. The primary reason for meeting the elders was, of course, to meet the master he had mentioned.

The Master of the North—there was only one person who could hold that title, and it was believed there would be no one else like him in the future—a true pioneer.

“Good.”

Karyl slowly stood up to leave the tent, noticing the atmosphere was still bustling. Although the Sword Festival had ended, the celebration of the birth of a new Great Warrior seemed far from over.

“Karyl!!”

“Oh, Great Warrior...!!”

“You’re finally awake!! Are you alright?!”

As Karyl pulled back the tent flap, the various tribes gathered around shouted while looking at him. Karyl waved lightly at them, and the tribesmen all knelt in unison.

“It seems there was quite the ruckus while our lord was unconscious,” Aidan, who had been waiting outside, said disapprovingly.

“It’s a festival. Regardless of death, the festival itself should carry on. And since no one died, it’s even more reason to celebrate. Unlike the empire, the tribes don’t hold mourning periods when someone dies. Instead of grieving, they eat and drink a little more, to keep on living.”

Karyl smiled faintly at Aidan’s words.

“That’s the way of the north.”

He walked past the tribesmen and headed toward the hill where the elders were gathered, with Aidan and Zigra following behind him.

***

“It feels a bit... awkward to say it’s been a while.”

Karyl looked at the elders sitting before him. Their eyes were clouded with doubt.

“Are you truly the son of Karliak?”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Neither can I. You possess mana... That’s impossible for a northerner.”

The elders were seated around a brazier, staring at Karyl as they smoked something called Miyan Grass, a mildly toxic herb specific to the north.

Seeing their reactions, Karyl shrugged with an expression that said, “I figured as much,” and let out a faint sigh.

“I’ve come to claim the title of Great Warrior. The result has already been acknowledged by all the chiefs. I hear you hold the token of proof.”

“How dare you...!!”

“Do you really think we will give you Lakna?!”

“We cannot hand over the treasure of the tribes to someone with mana!”

The elders erupted at Karyl.

“Why not?”

But instead of backing down, Karyl gave them a cold, mocking smile.

“Why do the tribes take pride in not having mana? What’s so great about that?”

“Th-That’s...”

“Is it because it distinguishes you from the empire? Don’t even get me started. You think that way simply because it’s been drilled into you, passed down as tradition without even understanding it.”

At Karyl’s sharp words, the elders’ faces darkened.

“You mindlessly cling to traditions without knowing why, just forcing the idea onto future generations like it’s some point of pride. That’s why the tribes are labeled heretics by the empire.”

Karyl took a step closer to the elders, causing them to flinch slightly, one of them even dropping his Miyan cigarette.

“Stop spouting such nonsense.”

“...!!”

The elders’ eyes widened, but Karyl kept going, not holding back one bit.

“You’ve lived a long time, haven’t you? Then shouldn’t you be the ones making more of an effort to see the world clearly, rather than those young ones outside? We’ve been thoroughly defeated and suffered great losses. The presence or absence of mana is not the issue. To raise the true strength of the tribes, we need to understand why we lost our mana in the first place."

“Lost our mana...?”

“What are you talking about...?”

“If you want to know, hand me over Lakna. Even if it’s a useless relic, I think I finally understand why my father hid it so carefully before he died.”

Karliak, the ruler of the north, had owned two sacred relics in his lifetime: Agnel, the dagger of the Black-Eyed tribe, and Lakna, the relic bearing the title of Great Warrior.

However, Karyl had never seen his father use Lakna. Or rather, he hadn’t even known what Lakna was to begin with.

What mattered, though, was that unlike Agnel, which was tied to a single tribe, Lakna held symbolic power that could unite all the northern immigrant tribes under the title of Great Warrior.

“...”

Unlike his efforts to absorb the principality and Three Kingdoms, Karyl’s participation in the Sword Festival was an effort to obtain Lakna legitimately, ensuring that the tribes’ loyalty would be directed toward him.

“If you want to cling to outdated beliefs, I won’t stop you. But if you want to face the future head-on, give me the relic of the Great Warrior,” Karyl demanded, extending his hand. “Then I’ll show you the true face of the tribes. I’ll show you who we really are, and the blood that runs through our veins.”

Strangely, the hostility on the elders’ faces seemed to soften.

“You’re awfully bold. I remember you as a much quieter child... You seem rather different from the boy who used to silently watch Karliak practice his swordsmanship.”

It was then that a voice came from behind the elders.

“You misunderstand the legitimacy of mana. The elders are the ones who have preserved the tribe’s rules and traditions more than anyone else. In fact, if anyone should know who we are and the blood that flows in our veins, it should be them.”

The voice, though rough, had a certain calmness to it, strangely evoking a feeling similar to Olivurn’s Spirit Language.

“Well, I agree that their way of thinking is outdated. Stagnant water always rots in the end.”

The man’s pale skin contrasted with his rugged voice. He wore a leather hood that covered his forehead and ears with long bangs hanging down.

His fair complexion was particularly striking, as most of the northern immigrant tribes had weathered, rough skin due to the harsh cold. His appearance only added to the air of mystery around him.

“Ahem...”

“That’s... a bit too much.”

At the man’s playful remark, the elders let out low sighs, but unlike their sharp retorts to Karyl, they didn’t direct any harsh words toward the man standing behind them.

“Are you saying the elders know the secret of the immigrant tribes?”

“It’s not much of a secret. Anyone who has been to the Thousand-Year Ice Cave would know. Strength can narrow one’s perspective, you know? Don’t underestimate the elders. They have protected and sustained the tribes until now.”

“...”

Unlike the elders, who seemed drained of life, this man radiated vitality, and Karyl studied him closely. He looked no older than his forties, but the astonishing fact was that he was older than any of the elders present.

In fact, the man had lived longer than the elders, who were over eighty years old, and even they, as well as other chiefs, had once been his students. His true age was beyond anyone’s guess.

“Of course, I haven’t a clue as to how you know the secret of the Thousand-Year Ice Cave, but... Lakna is what you need to gain the right to enter that tomb,” he explained in a low voice. “Only those who bear the title of Great Warrior can enter the Thousand-Year Ice Cave, the resting place of our ancestors.”

“That’s right. The reason I seek Lakna is for that purpose. Karliak, too, would now be resting in the tomb of the ancestors.”

“Hmm, you don’t strike me a son who’s mourning his father,” Alteman chuckled.

Karyl felt as if Alteman could see right through him, which left him with an unsettling feeling.

Alteman had maintained the same youthful appearance over the ages, leading some to speculate that he might be a dragon in disguise, while others argued that he carried the blood of a divine beast.

“But there’s one more reason I’ve come here.”

One thing was certain—Alteman possessed greater wisdom than the elders and held a position higher than any chief in the north.

“I came to meet you,” Karyl murmured, directing his words to the man standing behind the elders.

The Master of the North had another legendary title attached to his name.

“Alteman, the First Fisherman.”

At that, Alteman gave a mysterious smile.