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Chapter 167: Companion
The ones who had alighted on the ground exuded an aura befitting immortals.
They seemed not to belong to this plane at all—only to tarry here for a fleeting moment.
Even the faint tremor in the earth hinted that the land itself struggled to endure their presence.
They were the Transcendents of the Primordial Age.
Those who had lived since time immemorial now stood upon the Mage Tower.
It was a powder-keg situation.
The Grandmaster swept her gaze about, weighing both the circumstances and their strength.
‘No matter how I slice it, aside from myself and the Tower Lord, no one here can face them properly.’
Rihanna and Nameless were shackled by the ritual and couldn’t fight at all.
The Tower Lord had never truly crossed blades with Transcendents, either.
In truth, the only force worth calling a fighting power was the Grandmaster alone—
And, if she stretched the definition, Sharen.
The other mages?
They had picked up a few tricks sparring with Isaac, but the Primitive Transcendents were in a league of their own.
Especially the man with the enormous great-saber hanging from his waist—
Her own master, Mugan.
Mugan’s gaze was fixed solely on the Grandmaster.
‘Even one-on-one, I can’t promise I’ll win against him,’ the Grandmaster admitted to herself, cool-headed enough to know she might even be the one pushed back.
“Number Ten,” Mugan murmured, “let’s see how much you’ve grown.”
He stepped forward at a leisurely pace, black robes billowing.
The momentum and madness swirling in his obsidian eyes seemed to devour the very air.
“Mugan, don’t forget why we’re here,” Hellic reminded him.
Mugan didn’t budge.
His thick hand rested on the great-saber’s hilt, growling as though ready to draw at any moment.
“Forget it,” another Transcendent said. “You know he never listens anyway.”
“Let him do as he pleases—he’s finally reunited with his disciple,” a third added.
Knowing they couldn’t stop him regardless, the other Primitive Transcendents simply let it slide.
Hellic sighed and stepped back.
Until now, Hellic had stood high enough to lead even the Transcendents—
Yet his relationship with Mugan felt different: comrades on equal footing, perhaps even old friends knotted by love and hate alike.
“Oh my, could that child be…?” one Transcendent gasped, pointing at Sharen.
Red eyes, scarlet hair.
“A Helmut.”
“Is it because I only knew Arandel? I never thought a Helmut could look so cute.”
Hellic glanced at Sharen and clicked his tongue.
“Pay it no mind. Without Arandel or Rihanna, a Helmut isn’t worth the worry.”
“If that girl is here, doesn’t that mean Rihanna is here too?”
Hellic’s eyes widened a fraction; the possibility wasn’t zero.
“That’s true. I told that Blood Fiend wench to fetch her, but who knows what she’s doing—”
“I told you, ever since the True Ancestor died, the Blood Fiend clan was finished. Her so-called daughter is at best—”
While they gossiped as though out on a casual stroll—
“Block this.”
A fierce wind howled between the Grandmaster and Mugan.
Great-sabers were usually forged for razor-sharp cuts; that was true for the Grandmaster and for Nameless as well.
But the man called Mugan was different.
His great-saber was blunt, its momentum wild and its strokes savage—less a sword than a rampaging yaksha*.
Claaaaaaaang!
Dust exploded skyward, and in the blink of an eye, both of them stood with blades drawn.
“Hoo.”
Eyeing the Grandmaster’s sword, Mugan rubbed his chin and grinned.
“So you haven’t been lazing about after all? I never imagined you’d parry my blade so easily.”
“…Do you still consider yourself my master?”
Mugan let out a hearty, derisive laugh.
“Haha! You can deny it all you like—does that make it any less true? From the first day you held a sword, I was your teacher.”
“…”
“Struggle all you want; my blade and my teachings are etched into yours and can never be erased.”
“If you keep talking—”
“What a filthy move.”
Rarely did curses spill from the Grandmaster’s lips, but her blade swept out in a brutal arc.
Even while Mugan parried and laughed, the Grandmaster’s eyes kept flicking toward the other Primitive Transcendents.
‘They’re different.’
Only now did she truly grasp it:
These were not merely descendants of the Primitive race, purebloods whose lineage had stretched on and on.
They were, quite literally, the first—
The very progenitors born at the dawn of all things.
Their numbers were few, but their hatred for humans burned all the fiercer.
The man before her repeated the same words every day back in Yeonji Valley:
[Humans are vile.]
[Humans are inferior.]
[Humans are greedy.]
[Humans stole our world.]
That near-brainwashing litany still sometimes echoed in the Grandmaster’s ears.
“How was your little tour of the world, Number Ten?”
Mugan’s voice, like a master examining a pupil’s enlightenment, made the Grandmaster grit her teeth.
“Spare me the chumminess, you half-wit.”
“What did you see in humans?”
Their blades clashed and sparked, yet Mugan’s lips curled upward as though the answer were obvious.
“Remember what I told you the day you left? You said you wanted to look for potential in humans.”
“…”
“You would hope, then grow disappointed—”
“…”
“—and at last fall into despair.”
Claaaaang!
Mugan’s saber shoved the Grandmaster back a step.
She couldn’t quite hold her ground in that deadlock of strength, yet neither fighter was anywhere near exhaustion.
“That’s how it was,” she admitted without denial.
During Isaac’s first cycle, she must have been deeply disappointed in humanity—
Enough to hide away in the mountains, playing at immortality.
Rather than face the truth of Mugan’s words, she chose to raise disciples and keep to herself.
“To claim I never felt disappointment would be a lie, and to say I never despaired would be childish.”
“Heh, in that case—”
“But I did see potential.”
“…”
-Grip.
Gripping her great-saber with both hands, the Grandmaster raised it beside her cheek and settled into stance.
“You saw potential?”
Mugan frowned, and the Grandmaster drew a steady breath.
“So step aside.”
Dawn was creeping in.
Night was receding, and the mages’ spells were nearly prepared.
“I have a dear disciple to welcome.”
With the resolve to slay at least one foe before she left, the Grandmaster swung at Mugan—
Claaaaaaaang!
Her blade was blocked.
Another saber had already slashed through the trajectory, perfectly intercepting hers.
“…!”
Even her eyes couldn’t track that strike.
“Kang-wu—!”
Mugan bit down hard and twisted away. He knew exactly whose blade had just been drawn.
Among the Primitive Transcendents, there was only one other besides Mugan who wore a sword:
A man with cool blue eyes and a horn jutting from his brow.
Unlike Mugan’s beast-like ferocity, his weapon felt like a flawlessly forged blade made flesh—
Kang-wu, Father of Sword Demons.
That was an iai draw!
A shiver ran up the Grandmaster’s spine.
To think a blade her eyes couldn’t even follow truly existed in this world.
And from that single instant of steel, more poured into her mind than she could fully comprehend—enough to make her head ring.
The Sword Demon they had encountered back in Blackthorn wasn’t even in the same league.
This man was the sword among swords.
“Will you disrupt a moment between disciple and master?” Mugan bared his teeth, murder flashing in his eyes. Yet the swordsman called Kang-wu remained cool—cold, almost.
“We haven’t come here to fight.”
“Ha! This barely even counts as a fight!” Mugan snapped.
The other Transcendents sighed; Mugan’s excuse rang hollow to them.
‘Not here to fight?’
He had heard that refrain more than once. Then why had they appeared at all?
A tiny bud of hope sprouted in the Grandmaster’s gaze. It might turn into pleading for mercy, but she was ready to kneel if that was what it took.
‘Until you return, I will hold this ground.’
Even without knowing whether Isaac yet lived, she was determined. She had to learn their purpose.
“I have a question,” Kang-wu said, stepping forward. Even with his blade still sheathed, the Grandmaster felt a razor of chill at her nape.
She had lost sight of that sword once; she would not a second time. Yet faint fear still gathered at the edges of her eyes.
‘Is this what those who faced me felt?’
A wry smile touched her lips. Before opponents like these, even she could not help but think so.
‘Curse you, Arandel—if only you’d lived longer.’
She, who had once crossed blades with Arandel Helmut, could scarcely believe it. Even when illness kept him from fighting long, she had lost to him.
Ironically, standing here she felt the same weight Arandel Helmut had carried.
“Do not be tense,” Kang-wu said. “We have only come to ask.”
Then he spoke of the most unlikely being.
“Have you seen the Giant? We were told he was here.”
“…!”
The Giant? The one entombed in the collapsed mine?
The Grandmaster drew a slow breath. A cigarette would be heaven, but she had quit and could only want.
“For what reason do you seek him?”
“He is an old companion.”
“…Companion?”
“Be at ease. Our companion loves peace, and for today, we have laid our hatred aside.”
His sincerity disconcerted her.
What kind of being calms a stranger so immediately?
The relief settling in her chest only sharpened her wariness—he clearly understood hearts.
“…He’s deeper inside.”
Reluctantly, she pointed to the mine entrance, choked with fallen earth.
“The shaft caved in. Two humans are trapped with him.”
For the first time, bewilderment flickered in Kang-wu’s eyes as he studied the entrance, and the other Primitive Transcendents looked equally surprised.
“The mages are preparing a rescue spell. If you just wait—”
“Why wait?” a sharp-voiced woman cut in.
“Let’s just smash it. Human lives don’t matter. That fellow’s tougher than stone; he’ll survive.”
Smash it?
That place?
The Giant might live—
But Isaac and Marlin would not.
Every Transcendent signaled agreement. Even Kang-wu, seeing no reason to object, finally nodded.
In that instant—just as the Grandmaster’s great-saber whipped from its scabbard—spells from the Mage Tower erupted toward the Transcendents.
[TL: Yaksha – In Hindu and Buddhist mythology, "yaksha" refers to a fierce, supernatural being. While traditionally seen as nature-spirits or guardians of wealth, yakshas are also portrayed in some texts as powerful and chaotic warriors. ]
---The End Of The Chapter---
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