Chapter 1163
Raon took hold of the Heavenly Drive and the Wooden Ring Sword that Dorian offered him, his eyelids fluttering shut. Time ground to a halt, and the atmosphere turned to ice. In that singular instant, it seemed as though the universe had shrunk until only Raon and these twin blades remained.
'A blade...'
When Raon had originally walked away from the training grounds, leaving his weapons in Dorian’s care, he hadn't permitted himself to dwell on martial arts or practice. In fact, whenever those impulses bubbled up, he ruthlessly shoved them into the dark corners of his soul. There would have been no point in stepping away from his training if his mind remained shackled to the sword. Initially, it was an agonizing struggle; no matter his distractions, the concepts of blades and internal cultivation haunted him.
Whether he was savoring a meal, observing the crowds, or laughing with youngsters, the image of the sword lingered in the periphery of his consciousness.
Deciding that idle hands were his enemy, Raon disguised himself. He dyed his hair and eyes to a common black, smeared grime upon his skin, and secured a position at the premier general store in Zieghart.
Within a few sunrises, Raon had integrated himself. He joked with his fellow laborers and effortlessly charmed the patrons. The logistical expertise he had picked up from Dorian proved invaluable. Once he fell into the rhythm of the shop, the days began to blur together with incredible speed.
His mornings until midday were spent categorizing inventory, while his afternoons were dedicated to wandering the streets like a man without a single care in the world.
As he embraced this unconventional existence, the intrusive thoughts of martial prowess began to evaporate like morning dew. After ten days of laboring at the store, for the first time in his life, mundane concerns took precedence over the way of the sword.
He wondered what ingredients he and Wrath should experiment with for dinner. He planned the whimsical tales he would recount to the children gathered in the park. He considered if he should clock in early to handle the heavy shipments due the next morning.
By the time Raon was preoccupied with culinary refinements alongside Wrath and dozing off to the sound of youthful giggles, the sword had vanished from his mind entirely.
The disciplined breathing patterns he had practiced since birth ceased, replaced by the simple, almost silly curiosities of a child wondering what games the next day would bring.
'Is this a mistake?'
Terror occasionally gripped him. Internal alarms blared. A nagging dread whispered that his years of martial progress were rotting away and that his quest for vengeance would surely falter. Yet, Raon pushed forward. He had committed to this path, and the bridge behind him had long since turned to ash.
Thankfully, the presence of a lifelong companion helped mitigate the shadows of his doubt.
-Do you think pork and tomatoes really complement each other?
-Maybe we should try wrapping the fried fish in chicory instead of basil?
-Mint chocolate Bead Ice Cream is the pinnacle of human achievement. Do not dare discard it!
-If we liquefied beef, do you think we could consume it while we slumber?
-To dip or to pour the sauce? This King demands the meat be devoured instantly! Faster with the utensils!
-A sword? You mention a blade, and I think of a long silver cutlassfish. You say it’s bland? That is merely because you have never tasted it prepared by a true master!
-This King remains unsatisfied!
It was almost exclusively talk of gluttony. Actually, it was entirely about food, but having Wrath there provided a strange sort of comfort. Probably. Between eating, working, and playing with the greedy spirit—while forging ties with Zieghart citizens he once viewed as mere background characters—Raon found himself sinking deeper into his new reality.
Eventually, the martial thoughts he had once fought to suppress simply drifted away like a receding tide.
Raon no longer had to actively avoid the sword. After an exhausting day, his identity as a warrior felt as distant and hazy as a dream. The anxiety over losing his skills or forgetting his revenge dissolved. He was simply living. And in that precise moment of total detachment from the blade and his fear, something internal began to stir.
A blade of the spirit, a weapon of the soul. The silhouette of the Soul Sword, forged from his very essence, became tangible enough to touch. Raon had once believed he had already mastered the blueprint of this technique. He thought that by following his previous path, he would eventually wield a Soul Sword as invincible as Glenn’s. He had been mistaken.
Just as Darkan had squandered his existence in pathetic yearning, Raon had also been drifting aimlessly.
He had lived the life of a weapon, but not the life of a man. Of the four great human emotions—joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure—Raon had known only wrath. It was no wonder his soul-forged blade had been hollow. But in this brief stint as an ordinary man, he had found joy in simple banter and felt genuine annoyance at the shop owner’s entitled son.
Watching gray-haired couples walking hand-in-hand, Raon found himself imagining a future of marriage.
Seeing the wide-eyed wonder of children listening to his stories, he felt a budding yearning for a family of his own. The truth finally dawned on him. Raon was not merely a vessel for hatred and retribution. He wasn't a sword; he was a human being. It was a realization that felt like enlightenment, even without a formal breakthrough.
Raon felt a profound internal shift, deeper than any he had ever known. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the Heavenly Drive, which seemed to vibrate as if weeping with relief. The further he had distanced himself from the physical weapon, the closer his spirit had come to its essence. A sword wasn't a holy relic for meditation; it was a tool for the kill. The heart behind the hand was what mattered. He looked up toward the platform where Glenn stood.
Though Glenn's faith in him had never wavered, the dark circles under the patriarch's eyes betrayed his constant anxiety.
'I must show Grandfather what I’ve found.'
What Raon had gathered and brought back from his two-month hiatus.
He slid the Heavenly Drive from its housing. The sensation returned. This steel possessed no soul of its own. Only the human spirit gave it meaning. Raon hoisted the blade, manifesting a Willpower that was small but potent, like a hardy sprout breaking through the winter frost.
He executed a single, silent strike. The vertical slash he had practiced a million times since childhood now descended, infused with the weight of a human heart.
The moment the tip of the blade transitioned from sky to earth, a wave swept through the training grounds. Every person present buckled, feeling as though their very hearts had been sliced in two. That thin, ethereal blade of the spirit had been honed to a point where it could execute an enemy through sheer will.
"Ugh..."
"Is... is that truly swordsmanship?"
"I can't... catch my breath..."
The warriors with weaker internal energies began to collapse, unable to withstand the mere presence of the Soul Sword. In a strange twist of fate, by embracing his humanity, Raon had forged a blade that could truly unmake people. With a soft click, Raon sheathed not just the Heavenly Drive, but the sword within his heart.
"This is it..."
Feeling the stunned gazes of the gathered swordsmen at his back, Raon bowed deeply toward Glenn.
"This is the blade I have discovered."
"Is... is my heart still in one piece?"
Krein gasped, clutching his chest as if a block of ice had just passed through his ribs.
"I felt like my head was rolling on the floor..."
Dorian's hands shook uncontrollably, convinced it was his neck, not his heart, that had been targeted.
"A Soul Sword? This is nothing like what we saw before."
Burren's brow furrowed, thinking back to the version of the Soul Sword Raon had displayed at the Fifth Training Ground.
"Even without him aiming at me, that was infinitely more terrifying than the last time."
He squinted, trying to block out the lingering chill.
"So that’s the genuine article!"
Martha ran a hand over her throat and grinned, her teeth bared.
"There really is no ceiling to this! It’s completely mental!"
Despite the fear, she gripped her own weapon until the hilt groaned, her competitive spirit reignited.
"Phew..."
Runaan, her eyes unusually alert, let out a frosty sigh.
"It felt... lonely, somehow."
She bit her lip, sensing the raw emotion Raon had poured into that single strike.
"Hahaha!"
Alice clutched her sides, laughing and shaking her head.
"I told everyone there was no reason to fret over our nephew! Though, I didn't expect him to come back looking like a different person entirely!"
She beamed, proud that Raon had once again shattered expectations.
"It’s incredible, but..."
Balder rubbed his chest where the phantom sensation lingered, his face pinched.
"When is he going to finish my Martial Arts Manual?"
He grumbled, feeling as though the gap between him and Raon was becoming a canyon.
"What do you make of it?"
The Blade Queen nudged the Warlord.
"I thought we were closing in on our Lord through this training, but it looks like he just took a giant leap ahead of us."
She let out a dry, incredulous chuckle.
"The game was over the moment the Lord picked up that sword."
The Warlord shook his head with grim certainty.
"We won't be catching up to him now."
A faint, respectful smile touched his lips as he acknowledged the widening gulf.
"..."
Karoon remained silent, his gaze fixed intently on Raon.
"I see. You are that kind of man after all."
Even standing in the wake of that transformative power, he showed no fear, only a deep, resonant laugh.
"I can still handle this."
Having stood at the center of Raon’s display, Glenn swallowed hard.
'How is this possible?'
He had achieved this all by himself? The Raon who had left the training grounds was trapped inside a shell. Even with his consciousness reaching toward the Mental World, he had been struggling fruitlessly within. While his allies had helped him battle his inner demons, his previous understanding had been too narrow to reach the next stage of existence.
'That is why I held back.'
Glenn had intended to give him space to breathe before offering guidance, never dreaming Raon would return with a self-taught enlightenment of this caliber.
'This isn't just a glimpse.'
Raon hadn't just cracked the shell; he had shattered the entire egg and stepped out. The man himself was fundamentally altered.
'The emotional growth is the most staggering part.'
Raon used to be a creature of shallow sentiment and heavy shadows. While Glenn couldn't name the source, he knew Raon was fueled by a burning thirst for vengeance against Derus. But now, his grandson was smiling with a purity and grace that surpassed any of his peers. It wasn't a mask—it was genuine peace.
'I estimated this would take a year at the very least.'
The Raon who had been obsessively grinding in the training grounds was a mirror of Glenn’s younger self—a man who chased nothing but raw power. It reminded Glenn of his own darkest era, when he crushed dissenters and obsessed over Martial Prowess, isolating himself from kin and clan. That time when Glenn pushed his own children away for the sake of strength was his greatest regret.
'And it was that boy who showed me the way out.'
He hadn't needed Glenn’s help. Just as Glenn had eventually learned the value of family to escape his own stagnant heart, he had hoped to teach Raon the same lesson. Instead, the boy had scaled that wall through sheer individual will.
'I’m seeing it with my own eyes and I still can't quite grasp it. How much faster is he than I was?'
It was a difference of decades. Raon had transcended into a territory where words like "prodigy" or "monster" felt insufficient.
"Exemplary."
Glenn brought his hands together, applauding his grandson.
"I did not anticipate you reaching these heights on your own. Now, you..."
He looked at Raon’s serene expression and allowed a proud smile to form.
"It is no hyperbole to name you among the few absolute beings in this world."
