The place where the Malidan Wall once stood.
The towering wall had vanished without a trace, yet the remnants of human life remained, marking the land where people once lived.
Only the traces of decay and collapse, brought by the cold northern winds and the southern advance of beasts, bore witness to the northern warriors who had once stood here.
Roses bloomed over the footprints and homes they had left behind.
Roses that could never grow in the north had taken root, creeping across the ground—not as a beautiful sight, but as something that evoked the thought of contamination.
"What do you think?"
At the center of it all, a man asked with a light smile.
His tone was casual, as if he were introducing a finely decorated room.
Yet his blood-red eyes and faint smile triggered an instinctive unease in those who faced him.
A feeling of not wanting to approach.
A feeling of not wanting to speak.
Even though they had come here with swords in hand, the presence of this man made them feel weak.
"Hah, no answer? How disappointing."
Despite his words, the man chuckled lightly and rose from his seat.
In that moment, as no one dared to step forward, only the Grandmaster dismounted from her horse.
"You… You must be a Transcendent."
"And you're a half-blood?"
The man glanced at her greatsword.
Upon confirming the black tail and ears, his lips curled into a wide grin.
"Ah, number ten."
"...!"
The Grandmaster's body tensed for an instant—not out of fear or terror.
She had barely managed to restrain herself from lunging forward and swinging her sword.
"I had heard that one trainee managed to escape. And now I see—you match the description perfectly. So, how has your little excursion beyond our grasp been treating you?"
"Do not call it an excursion."
"Then what should I call it? A prodigal child always returns home in the end. Your journey may seem free, but in reality, it is not."
"I have long since broken free of you."
"And yet, the reason you struggle so desperately is because you are still bound. If you were truly free, you wouldn't be standing before me now."
The Grandmaster's shoulders flinched.
At that moment, she could hold back no longer and placed her hand on the hilt of her greatsword.
Great Iaido.
Her tail stiffened sharply, and her dark eyes locked onto her target beyond the roses.
The moment her greatsword left its sheath, it had already reached its target.
Kwaaaang!
A single slash, faster than the eye could track.
Rose petals scattered like a whirlwind, and a snowstorm erupted into the sky like a pillar.
Yet, despite all of this, there was no blood.
As the thick snowfall cleared, the sight that emerged could only be described as terrifying.
A crimson aura flowed across the man's entire body.
It was a type of spectral energy, yet distinctly different from the kind wielded by Isaac or the Sword Demon.
If Helmut's aura was called Crimson Descent,
Then this was the Crimson Descent of the Transcendents—
A term that suited it perfectly.
The Crimson Descent Aura he wielded had taken the shape of a greatsword, wrapped around his weapon.
"You…"
The Grandmaster bit her lip in frustration.
Sensing the danger, Isaac hurriedly stepped forward to restrain her.
"Grandmaster."
"Isaac, step back."
"Please, calm yourself. This is not a battle to fight alone."
Ironically, no one present was unaware of how dangerous this foe was.
They all understood the might of Helmut.
"Isaac…?"
But the man, upon hearing Isaac's name, suddenly showed interest.
"Ah, so it's you? The one who killed my child. What a shame. If that child had completed the transformation into a subjugation vassal, everything would have gone smoothly."
"…Child?"
Isaac, about to speak, found himself instinctively repeating the word.
If this man was referring to "his child," then—
"Arandel Helmut. You do know the name, don't you?"
The man shrugged, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Then, what you're saying right now is—"
"What is there to question? Did you truly believe that the bloodline of Helmut was purely human? Did you really think that?"
Haha! The man let out a laugh, one that was closer to mockery.
And that, in turn, only made his words all the more convincing.
"How could that be! How could a mere human reach such martial prowess with human blood alone? Truly, how naïve!"
Helmut's martial prowess was such that it felt more unnatural to believe he was human.
No one, including Isaac, could refute his words.
"Well, tedious old stories are boring, so let's move on."
The man smirked slyly as he withdrew his crimson aura.
The cross-shaped weapon slung over his shoulder, if one had to classify it, was a staff—
The kind that a pope might carry.
"You must be looking for the Malidan Wall. That's why you've come all this way—to bring them back, isn't it?"
In the silence, the man smiled as if he were performing a monologue.
"Unfortunately, that's impossible."
"What?"
"Sorcery demand compensation. We paid the price, and in return, the Malidan Wall was removed. There's no way it can return."
Impossible?
"So, your efforts are futile. That is what I wished to tell you. For I, myself, desire to be the very embodiment of your despair."
With a faint smile, the man placed his hand over his chest and bowed.
Isaac wanted to believe it was a lie.
There were even those behind him who shouted that they didn't believe it.
But—
'That is the nature of sorcery.'
Isaac's mind had already reached the truth—
The man was not lying.
The same was true for subjugation.
An unbreakable chain of absolute obedience.
"They moved the colossal Malidan Wall. Could it really be so simple to undo that?"
At least, as far as he knew, sorcery didn't work that way.
It always required a price, and with that price came responsibility.
Through the cold northern winds, Silverna's voice still lingered.
[If I had met you earlier, our family wouldn't have perished so meaninglessly.]
Because you said those words, I came here.
[Silverna.]
[The name I abandoned for my family.]
[Silverna Caldias.]
[That is my true name, Isaac.]
To protect that name—
He resolved the great colony early, brought enlightenment, and created a situation where reinforcements could be sent.
But now…
He has lost Silverna too.
Is that what this meant?
If it was going to be like this…
Then what was the meaning of regression?
Even if he succeeded in his revenge, he kept losing the people who were dear to him.
It seemed like things were being resolved, but in the end, what blocked his path was an insurmountable wall.
And—
That wall only grew thicker.
"Ah, time's up."
The space around the man distorted strangely.
A sigh came from behind.
No one here failed to recognize what was happening.
Transcendent beings were descending.
At a glance, there were more than thirty of them.
"Ah."
"Th-this is insane—!"
"So many T-Transcendents…?"
Among the group, a wave of shock spread.
Even the man in front of them was terrifying, and now, a horde of Transcendents had appeared.
Each one of them radiated a dense, murderous intent,
As if they were ready to tear through the entire left flank at any moment.
"Hmm, a disappointing number. Is this all they could send?"
Yet the man only clicked his tongue in disappointment.
Despair piled upon despair.
They had come here to save the Malidan Wall, but in truth, this place had been a trap set by the Transcendents to devour them—
"Draw your sword."
The Grandmaster's voice was like a blade itself,
Cutting through even the thickest fear with effortless elegance.
She stepped forward, glanced at Isaac, and asked:
"Do you believe in fate?"
"...Grandmaster?"
"I do not believe in it."
Isaac, too, had always been skeptical when it came to the notion of fate.
"That is why I do not see your regression as fate."
"..."
"Whoever was involved in your regression must have truly believed that you would overcome everything."
That must be why they sent you.
"You are not merely someone who should not fall. You are someone who must not fall."
The Grandmaster slowly stepped forward, gripping the scabbard tightly, and solemnly declared:
"Silent Blade, Isaac Logan. Receive my teachings."
"Master…?"
The Grandmaster's tail lowered calmly. Frost, reminiscent of the moonlight, filled her gaze—sharp as a blade.
"I entrust everything to you."
A chill ran down his spine.
He had seen this expression on the Grandmaster's face once before.
It had been in his previous life—her final moment.
"Grandmaster, wait—!"
"Do not interrupt me. This moment is urgent."
With a faint smile, the Grandmaster spoke honestly.
"Do you know why I have always held you in such high regard?"
"What do you mean…?"
"In both your past life and your present, I have treasured you because I believed that you would one day reach my dream."
A dream?
In his past life, the Grandmaster had never spoken of her past.
Even in this life, she would only briefly mention her fellow disciples, nothing more.
She had never once spoken of her true goal.
Despite having refrained from involving herself in war, she had still chosen to take on a disciple.
"Because I wanted to see humanity triumph gloriously over them."
A dream impossible for her as a half-blood.
The Grandmaster, having finally spoken those words, didn't wait for Isaac's response.
She leapt forward.
"I was called Master because I had no name of my own."
Her massive blade swung wide.
"If I am to be forgotten, then let it be so—as one with no name!"
The strike she unleashed flew toward the horde of Transcendents, as if it would cleave them in two.
Great Iaido
Yet another colossal blade blocked her attack.
The trajectory was all too familiar.
The swordsmanship—undeniably familiar.
The two great blades clashed, perfectly mirroring each other.
KAAAAANG!
"Number 10, you're still just pretending to be impressive."
The woman opposite her wore a wide-brimmed hat, her face obscured by her lowered head.
But the Grandmaster recognized her immediately—just from her voice.
"...Number 2?"
After exchanging powerful strikes, they distanced themselves from each other.
The Grandmaster had been prepared to die.
She had wanted her disciple to become a magnificent swordsman who would one day reach her dream.
"Time truly has a sweet taste."
But perhaps, because she had never believed in fate—
"Even in a situation like this, meeting an old friend like you… makes me feel so happy."
—fate had chosen to show her its cruelty.