Chapter 65

(2)

3.

The Clash of Ulan and the Count.

The moment they closed the distance.

The two disappeared as if evaporating.

Evidence that the Master’s Domain had unfolded. And the moment it unfolded, ordinary people were not allowed even to see it.

Kaaang! Ka-kak! Kyang!

The sound of weapons clashing could be heard.

But that was as far as it went. It was impossible to see with the eyes. It looked as if they were fighting while teleporting, causing Berge to furrow his brow.

“…Can you see anything?”

“Nope, not a thing,” Diplyn shook her head.

No matter how much of a High Mage she was, tracking the Master’s Domain with her eyes was impossible.

“But I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“The center of both domains, where Ulan and the Count are, has a break in the flow of magic.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that a magic force strong enough to interrupt the flow is swirling around. If you get caught in it, you’d almost be dead.”

In other words, it was dangerously unsafe.

Berge once again gazed at the Duel Arena with a worried expression, hoping Ulan wouldn’t suffer any serious harm.

But that was short-lived. He broke from his thoughts due to Diplyn’s constant glancing over here.

“What are you sneaking peeks at since earlier?”

“Hehe, well, you see…”

After letting out an awkward chuckle, Diplyn subtly spoke up.

“Given the situation, can I expect Ulan’s cooperation for my research…?”

Naturally, she was hoping for an extension on the time frame.

Diplyn was about to ask that, but Berge’s thoughts were completely different.

“Of course, we’ll have to make it a non-issue. We couldn’t stop the meeting between Lord Istan and Ulan, could we?”

“Hahaha, you’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“…….”

There was no trace of laughter on his serious face.

Did she realize that the situation had gone awry?

Diplyn quickly drooped her shoulders. Just then, inspectors approached from a distance.

“Reporting to the Dean.”

“We’ve secured a suspicious individual.”

“Hmm? What does that mean?”

“There were two students hiding in that forest, watching this place, and we tied them up.”

Students were watching?

As the unexpected words caused his brow to furrow, the inspector handed something over. It was Student IDs seized from the tied-up students.

【1st Year Class 3, Noa Darshen】

【1st Year Class 3, Ivella Elea’ad】

“Class 3, huh…”

They were in the same class as Ulan.

Berge’s gaze narrowed as he got a sense of how things were unfolding. The inspectors cautiously asked.

“What should we do?”

“Hmm, for now, bring them here.”

After Berge’s response finished, shortly after, two girls were dragged in, tied up.

Their faces were clearly tense. Berge instructed for the ropes to be removed and then asked them.

“What’s the reason you’re here?”

“Well, um…”

Noa stammered, flustered.

They had only followed Ivella, which would put the blame on her. So they made up a new excuse.

“U-Ulan was said to come here!”

“I heard from the Special Operations Division that he was going to the Source of Magic, so we got curious and came to check it out.”

After the girls finished answering, Berge’s expression affirmed his suspicions as he fired a second question.

“So how much did you see?”

“Uh, that is…”

This was something to answer carefully.

Noa hesitated, but Ivella was different. She seemed determined not to hide this answer.

“We saw everything.”

“What did you say?”

“We saw everything from start to finish.”

As soon as Ivella’s answer came to a close, the surrounding atmosphere froze.

Noa was the same. Naturally, that was the worst possible answer in this situation.

“Hoo, then we have no option.”

Berge sighed again.

His eyes shone sharply.

“It can’t be helped, we have to…”

“……!”

Was he planning to silence them?

Noa’s complexion turned pale in an instant. But the reply that came back was unexpected.

“You’ll need to write an oath.”

“An oath?”

“Yeah. It’s an oath that swears you won’t disclose anything you saw here to the outside world.”

A response far more normal than she had thought.

As Noa stood there in a daze, Berge called an inspector to fetch the oath.

“This is to prevent the truth of Ulan’s abilities from leaking out, so I would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Y-Yes! We’ll do that!”

After letting out a sigh of relief, she finally looked around.

Among them, the ones who caught her eye were undeniably the three men and women. Noa gaped with wide-open eyes.

‘Berge Erkazhan, Diplyn Cernio, and even Seoric Al Gorphant?!’

All three were Named Characters.

And Seoric was famously known as the oldest character who users can directly play.

He was known for rising to the peak of the imperial military and facing off against Abyssal Monsters on a battlefield different from the seven heroes.

‘This never happened in the original, though.’

Berge and Diplyn were the deans of the Military and Magic Departments, so one could argue it was possible for them to meet. But Seoric Al Gorphant was the exception.

That man was a hero of the Southern Battle Line.

And at this time, he would be focused on building his own faction, so he wouldn’t even visit the academy.

‘But for him to be here…’

This was probably due to the variable named Ulan.

Just how far would the future twist? As she internally sighed, Ivella’s voice suddenly came through.

“…Dean.”

Fixing her gaze directly on Berge, she asked in a trembling voice.

“Is Ulan really an Expert?”

Her eyes flickered as much as her voice shook.

Ivella’s gaze returned to the Duel Arena.

“If that’s the case, how can he fight on equal terms with Count Deorg? That’s like…”

“If you write the oath, I’ll answer you.”

Just as the oath arrived.

Without even reading it, Ivella hastily signed it. As if this nonsense was not important.

“Now tell me.”

With a bold attitude, Berge raised an eyebrow.

But that was short-lived. After collecting the oath, he nodded in acknowledgment.

“That’s right. Just as you guessed.”

“So, that means…”

“Ulan is not an Expert. He’s a strong one who has reached the Master’s level.”

“……!?”

The moment her speculation changed to certainty.

Ivella’s eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

Did he notice it? Berge added further explanation.

“Of course, it’s something that’s hard to understand with common sense. But you can’t deny what’s unfolding before your eyes, can you?”

After finishing his answer, he looked at the Duel Arena with wrinkled eyes.

The battle remained invincible, still unseen with the eye. Pointing at the scenery only permitted to Masters, he calmly advised.

“If there are no other questions, watch closely.”

A Master influences the examiners just by wielding his sword. One can only imagine how much more would be the case with a duel between Masters.

“While you might not see their domains, that battle will be immensely helpful to anyone walking the path of the sword.”

“……”

Yet there was no need for advice.

Even before Berge started his counsel, Ivella was already looking at the Duel Arena.

Instinctively realizing. Even if unseen, it had to be etched into their eyes.

The same went for Noa.

Of course, her reasons were entirely different.

‘…Ulan is a Master?!’

Her eyes were filled with confusion and horror.

Naturally. Ulan could only reach the level of Master after twenty-seven years.

‘It’s impossible! No matter how much of a Hero’s Enchantment he received, that speed is absurd!’

Regardless of Kazan’s abilities, he couldn’t possibly bridge a ten-year gap. What then could be a variable capable of exceeding that time?

A trembling gaze, feeling an anxiety that wouldn’t easily settle, Noa bit down hard on her lips.

‘Is this world truly…’

Is it really the <Chronicles of Arsen Continent> that I knew?

Along with the sudden lingering doubt.

Noa’s gaze wavered endlessly, like a candle flickering anxiously in front of wind.

4.

Istan El Deorg.

Known as Count Deorg.

He inherited the family line quite late in life.

The public reason was that he wasn’t a direct descendant of the Count’s family, but rather a branch bloodline, but the real reason was a bit different.

It was due to the family’s long-standing tradition.

“The master of Deorg must always be a Master. Bloodline is something to be discussed afterwards.”

At that time, even the direct line had not produced a Master, let alone an Expert. As a result, a chance arose for Istan, who had been an Imperial Knight, roaming the battle lines forever.

The only Expert from his family, he began to receive numerous supports as a successor and eventually reached the Master’s level.

‘It was a dreamlike time.’

The day he officially became the master of Deorg.

His life changed completely.

The gaze that had looked down on him due to his branch lineage vanished, and all the power and authority of the family was grasped in Istan’s hands.

At that time, he also called his concubine and daughter from outside the castle. Although he couldn’t confer them the position formally, he was satisfied with that alone.

‘I thought I would be happy forever…’

Reality was different.

The sweet time was brief.

Upon returning to the front lines, a terribly mundane time arrived for Istan.

‘Ashen Syndrome.’

It felt as if his growth had halted.

He was blocked not by a wall of martial skill, but by a wall that reality had created. No matter how many cultists he killed, his thirst wasn’t quenched.

There was only one way to resolve this.

To fight against someone of equal skill or a strong adversary. Yet the wall of reality wouldn’t allow that, and Istan grew increasingly lonely.

Eventually, after all his emotions dulled.

He abandoned everything and lived solely in battle.

He didn’t return to his Countship, nor cared for his family. He became a monster that moved solely for battle, like a golem.

Then he received word of a certain event.

That Himel had been injured. Though he heard it was quite serious, Istan showed no reaction.

‘As long as he doesn’t die, it’s fine.’

Defeat serves as good compost in growth.

He even felt a strange jealousy. Defeat was a precious experience he wanted to feel but couldn’t in his current state.

‘But…’

Along with the news of Himel’s injury.

A report of significant meaning reached his ears.

That the one who subdued him had done so without a scratch, breaking the sword with bare hands.

Furthermore, he heard that it moved so quickly that even the onlookers or judges couldn’t perceive it.

Istan then felt intrigued.

It seemed similar to the Master’s Domain.

‘So I left the front lines.’

Since he now had a good excuse to visit his injured son, he immediately expressed his intention to visit Arsen Academy.

The day he arrived at the academy.

He first went to see Himel. It had been several years since they last met, and he wanted to check how much he had grown.

‘And…’

He immediately felt disappointed.

He had thought he’d at least crossed the threshold of Expert by now, but it turned out he was only knocking on the door of a High-ranking Knight.

Far below what he had anticipated.

But the feeling of disappointment didn’t linger long.

The moment he arrived at the Source of Magic and faced Ulan, Istan felt elation.

And finally concluded.

This barbarian was a Master!

Kaaang!

The clash of axe and sword shattered Istan’s thoughts.

In that fleeting moment, he exchanged countless attacks with Ulan. But only Ulan and himself moved around.

The scenery outside the Duel Arena did not change.

It was as if time had stopped.

‘Master’s Domain.’

This refers to an area where a Master can recognize and intervene, meaning the interval where one can unleash all their power.

Hence, it is said that

If you stand against a Master and mistakenly step into their domain, the fight is practically over.

‘But…’

This saying only holds in battles between a Master and someone else. It does not apply to battles between Masters.

At that moment, their weapons clashed again.

Kuduk! Kwa-ded-dek!

The chill emanating from the magic sword engulfed the surroundings completely. The earth, grass, and even Ulan instantly froze over.

But that was only brief.

As Ulan wriggled his body, the ice covering him shattered all at once. Like glass breaking with a huge roar.

Istan twitched an eyebrow.

‘This is no ordinary ice.’

This is magical ice that even the scorching sun of the desert cannot melt. How did he break it instantly? Without using any aura?

“How did you break the ice?”

“I put strength into my body.”

Ulan spoke casually.

A reply so simple it was almost deflating. Just as Istan made a drained expression.

Wuduk! Kwa-ded-dek!

The magic sword released chill again, as if its pride had been wounded by the shattering ice.

However, he had no intention of falling for it again.

Peeeeooooong!

With a sound that broke the air.

Ulan’s axe split the ice in half.

In that process, his Ghoula greedily devoured all the magic powering the ice.

And as a result.

Ghoula grew much larger than before.

Now it was more than just a hand axe. Upon witnessing this, Istan’s eyes sparkled.

“This isn’t an ordinary axe.”

“No. It’s a Magic Weapon.”

That’s why he hadn’t drawn it at first.

Istan silently smiled as he understood Ulan’s intention to fight under the same conditions as possible.

As if to say he liked it.

And he charged forward again.

Kwa-ded-dek! Kkang!

The battle was becoming more intense.

Pits were being dug across the Duel Arena, and the flow of magic surged like an explosion.

One misstep could result in severe injury. Yet the smile on Istan’s face remained undiminished.

‘It’s worth it to come this far.’

With each clash of weapons against Ulan, the lost emotions he had felt were gradually being revived. Now, as he danced on the border of life and death, Istan finally felt alive.

‘I hope this doesn’t end.’

The vibration transmitted through his sword.

As he felt an exhilarating thrill that shook his whole being, Istan smiled with joy.

‘As long as it continues!’

His sword became increasingly ferocious.

This was none other than Deorg’s sword.

The fierce momentum of the blade rips and crushes his enemies, known as the strongest sword in the South.

Kwachang! Kwang! Kyang!

With each clash of weapons, loud explosions echoed. Not just the sound, but actual detonations occurred due to the collision of aura and spirit.

Soon, fierce shockwaves began.

Kwaga-gaga-gaga!

The Duel Arena was engulfed by the shockwave, wreaking havoc even in the surrounding forest. The once intact forest was instantly turned into ruins with sheer madness.

The only relief was that Diplyn performed defensive magic, so there were no casualties.

On the other hand, contrasting the ruined surroundings.

Ulan calmly received Deorg’s sword with a composed expression. It was as if he was deep in thought. The reason was that his sword felt oddly familiar.

A little while later.

He discovered the reason behind it.

‘It resembles Ivella’s sword.’

Now, without the ferocity of the blade, the swordsmanship Ivella currently used was strangely similar.

The moment he recalled this fact.

‘Ah, now I understand.’

Ulan’s expression sharpened.

As if he realized something.

‘It’s a swordsmanship fashionable in the Empire.’

A fitting assumption.

After all, both were from the Empire.

Ulan soon shook off his distractions. This was not only because he finished his hypothesis but also because the attacks Istan poured out had waned.

“Phew.”

Istan caught his breath.

It was only natural. Wielding the sword with momentum consumed a lot of breath. As he managed his quickened breathing, he smiled broadly.

“You’re solid. It’s like facing a shield.”

“Your sword has its merits too.”

Of course, not more than future Ivella.

Yet still, the best opponent he had faced since his reincarnation. Just then, Istan suddenly began to mutter.

“Where on earth did you accumulate such skill?”

This was a question he had held for a while.

Istan immediately continued, “I’ve never heard of a battlefield more intense than the Southern Battle Line.”

“Well, for the moment, that is the case.”

“What? What do you mean…”

“You don’t need to be anxious.”

His crimson eyes calmed down.

Memories of past life. The moment he recalled the battlefield where he fought against the Abyss, Ulan smiled with a twist on the side of his mouth.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

A meaningful response.

Yet Istan couldn’t ask a counter. Suddenly, Ulan charged the ground and dashed toward him.

“Now it’s my turn.”

This was Ulan’s first aggressive move.

Istan immediately brushed off any distractions. To receive what the barbarian would showcase.

But this was his mistake. What Ulan intended to demonstrate was not the axe, but something else.

‘Nine steps and a half.’

This was Istan’s domain.

It was the range in which he could exert absolute power. In contrast, Ulan’s domain was far wider.

Up to twenty steps.

A result combining the experiences and skills from his past life. Plus, one more thing. A technique known only to Ulan and the seven heroes.

‘Transcendent Domain.’

A new realm within the domain.

A moment’s gap created only by those who have fought countless times against equals or stronger.

An attack through this breakthrough crosses the boundaries of their respective domains, transcending space itself.

‘However…’

As a price for that, not only considerable spirit is consumed, but it burdens the body significantly.

Furthermore, even with this cost incurred, the level of Transcendent Domain Ulan could currently muster was merely a half-step.

‘But that doesn’t matter.’

For the lonely swordsman, who currently thought he stood at the Earth’s end, it would be enough to show him that there is a world beyond that.

Thud!

Thus, the moment he took that half-step.

The strike of Ulan, transcending time and space, rushed toward Istan with ferocious force.

Kwaaaaaang!

The ground hollowed out with a thundering sound.

Soon, a massive pit was created.

Dust swirled, blocking their view. Ulan swung his axe, immediately clearing the dust away.

The scenery that was revealed afterward.

Ulan was honestly impressed.

“Quite excellent.”

His crimson gaze was directed toward the opposite side.

On the very edge of the pit, just before falling, Istan was clinging on, barely managing to hold himself up.

The moment the Transcendent Domain unfolded.

Simultaneously, when Ulan’s strike came rushing in.

Istan had been frozen like a statue and belatedly reacted to the attack. He barely twisted his sword to block it.

While he didn’t completely stop it.

Kwadig! Thud thud thud!

As a result, the magic sword cracked. And then shattered like glass.

That wasn’t all.

While barely holding on, Istan erupted a mouthful of crimson blood. The remaining shock from the destruction of the magic sword had been absorbed by his body outright.

“Phew, haah!”

His heart raced irregularly. His breathing grew rough.

His vision turned cloudy, but Istan wouldn’t fall. No, he couldn’t afford to fall.

For he still had questions left to ask.

Thus, despite spilling blood, he barely continued the words.

“…What was that just now?”

“An area within the area.”

Ulan replied nonchalantly right after.

Istan’s expression turned peculiar.

Surprise, horror, reverence, and so on.

Various emotions blossoming in order, he eventually smiled in relief and muttered.

“I see. There really was something beyond that…”

With his words growing fainter.

Istan knelt down.

All his magic had been exhausted from blocking Ulan’s strike. And then he collapsed to the ground, like a straw doll hit by a fierce wind.

And at that moment.

The venue was enveloped in a quiet atmosphere.

No one had anticipated such a result. None of the three attendees envisioned the scenery that unfolded.

But the silence didn’t last long.

“Next.”

Breaking the silence was Ulan’s voice.

He directed his gaze toward the place where the three attendees gathered.

Among them, he stared intently at Seoric, who wore a dazed expression.

“Are you not going to fight?”

“…What?”

Seoric, shaking off his drowsiness, replied with a perplexed face.

“Are you saying you’d fight me too?”

“It’s like you’re hoping I would.”

The gaze of someone yearning for a fight.

At Ulan’s words, Seoric smiled widely.

“Thank you.”

A very combative smile. As if his previously composed face was merely a mask.

“I couldn’t hold back since the moment ago.”

Casting aside his hesitations, he leaped into the Duel Arena.

An unexpected turn of events.

Berge, who belatedly grasped the situation, tried to stop him, but it was futile. It was already miraculous that Seoric had held out this long.

After the unplanned duel began.

Kwang! Kwang!

Two more pits were added.

It was the sound announcing the end of the duel.

That afternoon, a shocking news that would shake the Imperial military broke out.

Mighty Sword, Istan El Deorg.

Loyal Sword, Seoric Al Gorphant.

It was reported that the two giants, known as the top swordsmen of the South and West, had lost to the ‘zero-level management target’ barbarian recently designated.

This astonishing news was reported not only to the military but even to the higher-ups.

To the place where the noblest blood converges.

It flowed all the way to the Imperial Family.

Chapter 18. The One Who Decides Is Not You.