The outermost edge of the Kardenos estate, where even sunlight did not reach.
I ran through the slum alleys sticky with foul moisture and filth.
"Oh, a nostalgic smell."
Thanks to my stomach being hardened on battlefields, it was slightly comforting.
If the smell of blood, burnt flesh, and gunpowder mixed in here, I'd even get homesick. Fat chance.
Step- step
Footsteps followed after me.
The mud squelched, and vagrants lay scattered throughout the alleys.
In their faces, eyes wild from hunger, greed gleamed.
Those who had crept after me stopped at a single glare.
They must have had survival instincts enough to sense killing intent.
Living closest to death would do that.
I rummaged through the slum here and there.
It got little sunlight and the colors were gloomy, so at a glance it looked like a maze.
I went back the way I came, and turned back again at dead ends, repeating the process.
All the while, I swiftly scanned every corner of the back alleys.
'Found him.'
Along the way, one vagrant caught my eye.
A figure crouched beneath a crumbling wall.
It was a man wearing scraps of cloth worn thin like rags.
His empty right sleeve fluttered easily in the wind.
His hair and beard were tangled and shaggy, as if he had not washed in ages.
Dust and filth caked on in layers, making him closer to a clump of fur than a person.
In front of him sat a single cracked gourd bowl. He looked every bit the beggar.
Even the few vagrants passing by pinched their noses and hurried on.
That old man was still filthy as ever.
More than half his face was covered in grotesque facial hair, but I recognized him at once.
-I lived in hiding on your estate until then. You know that sewer of a slum on the outskirts? That’s where I was
Hendrickson, the One-Armed Sword.
Currently, there are only two Swordmasters in the entire continent who have woven seven Rings.
One is already an old man retired, crushed under the weight of time. A living corpse who barely breathes, his fighting spirit drained to the bottom.
Hendrickson was different. He was a Knight ready to roll on the front line at any time.
Bang! Bang!
Having confirmed my presence, he struck the bowl. He was asking for money.
For that old man to end up like this. It makes you feel like you need to live through the world twice.
"My lord, please spare even a single coin. I haven't eaten anything for days."
"Elder."
Flick!
The coin drew a graceful arc.
Ting, teeeng-
It fell straight into the old bowl.
"Oh, my lord. Thank you...."
The groveling beggar's voice cut off for an instant. What I had thrown was no ordinary coin but a gold coin.
No insane noble would donate a gold coin to a slum beggar.
He too realized that this approach carried obvious intent.
As if creaking, his head twisted upward.
Two eyes revealed themselves between the shaggy facial hair. A clear color settled in his murky pupils.
"Who are you?"
He grasped his staff. More precisely, a blade disguised as a staff.
Eyes measuring the distance of the blade. A silence that probed his intentions.
This man could kill me in the blink of an eye.
He was gauging whether I was worth killing.
Clang!
Instead of answering, I threw what I held into the bowl.
It was different from the clear sound of a coin. What rolled inside the bowl and stopped was a Black Obsidian Ring.
A Black Obsidian Ring intricately engraved with a fierce Black Lion.
It was the family seal that only the direct bloodline of Kardenos could possess.
"Astin von Kardenos."
Hendrickson's pupils rippled faintly.
"I am the son of your disciple, Elder."
"Ha!!"
He twisted his neck and burst out laughing.
"Kardenos? Did you think I'd welcome you just because you said that?"
Who knew. He would hate it, naturally.
I moved my feet slowly. I took a seat right beside Hendrickson.
"Isn't it lonely alone, Elder?"
I placed an old gourd bottle by his side.
The sour alcohol smell unique to cheap liquor stung the tip of my nose.
***
-I assure you. You, Sir, can be the first to weave the final Ring.
-If it is Hendrickson, he can surpass the old legacy!
-Sir Rickson. I congratulate you in advance on the birth of the eighth Ring.
Flash Quick Sword, Formless Sword, Invisible Hand.
Hendrickson was once a man called the continent's strongest sword, and a Swordmaster who lit up Solar's golden age.
His fame was never empty.
Every Knight chanted Hendrickson's name, and even the imperial family placed their hopes on him alone.
But the sun that seemed eternal set quickly.
-We must admit it now. The age of the Ring is over.
-Young blood has already climbed up to our throats. We're has-beens now.
-It is a natural flow.... It is time to put out the fire now.
A great upheaval in which the currents changed rapidly and the paradigm flipped.
Instead of decades of bone-grinding ascetic training, Knights opened Mana Circuits and seized power easily and quickly.
While young Knights rose steeply, Ring Knights couldn't even maintain the status quo and fell behind.
Sometimes the era runs ahead of people.
-No. I cannot accept it.
Hendrickson stubbornly denied that grotesque gust.
Shortcuts and other cheap tricks could not beat the weight of time.
A sword must have the time of endurance and accumulated experience steeped deeply into it.
-I request a true sword Duel with you.
A wandering swordsman came to him, who held firm beliefs.
A Grand Sword Master who had pioneered eight Paths.
A nameless man raised his sword toward Hendrickson.
Hendrickson did not avoid it. Rather, he wanted to prove it.
The Solar Ring he had silently heated for 60 years.
A shortcut of less than 10 years was nothing. It could never compare to him.
Furthermore, he believed that if he gained insight from the Duel, he could weave the final Ring.
The result was a defeat with nothing gained.
He barely escaped with his life. Hendrickson had to sacrifice the right arm that had held a sword his entire life.
-Even Hendrickson could not handle an opponent who had opened eight Mana Circuits.
-Now even a Swordmaster would struggle, wouldn't he? He lost his main arm.
-Ha. So much for the Invisible Hand. Turns out the name was true!
What he lost was not just his right arm.
Name, fame, courage, glory, status, hometown. Everything he had enjoyed for decades vanished overnight.
The alias 'Invisible Hand' turned into a disgrace in an instant.
Even as a one-armed man, Hendrickson was strong enough. He was just barely able to maintain seven Rings.
But it was far short of his heyday when he ruled. The pain of falling from the summit hurt more than any wound.
The pitying gazes that poured over him every day, the voices that reached him even when he covered both ears.
Even the phantom pain in his missing right arm tormented him.
The Swordmaster who had dominated an era threw away his sword and hid himself. He chose to stagnate in the reeking slum and cut himself off from the world.
Nevertheless, he did not abandon the Solar Ring.
It was his lifelong belief and more precious than his lifeline. Abandoning the Ring would be denying 60 years of his life.
-Give up now, Sir Rickson.
The comrades who had been with him turned into traitors. They chose the shortcut and extinguished the spark of the Ring.
Hendrickson alone kept the spark alive and continued his lonely training.
Before long, the derogatory name One-Armed Sword stuck to him.
A one-armed sword. Or a lonely sword.
'You fools.'
Call it a vain obsession. Curse him for burning only his lifespan.
The heat of my Ring cools only when my body temperature cools.
"Astin von Kardenos. I am the son of your disciple, Elder."
When the youth who appeared out of nowhere introduced himself, Hendrickson found him utterly detestable.
The Grand Duke House of Kardenos.
A cradle of traitors who, despite having lived through the brilliant age of the Ring, chose to walk the Path.
Moreover, Astin was young blood.
The rising young bloods regarded Ring Knights as outdated losers.
Kardenos's eldest legitimate son was no exception.
"Isn't it lonely alone, Elder?"
Astin sat down calmly beside him. Hendrickson glared at him and waved his hand dismissively.
"Your father and I are not on pleasant terms. You're annoying me, so leave."
"Didn't I give you a gold coin earlier? Consider it payment for your time, Elder."
His sly face made his audacious intentions plain.
Sometimes Knights came all the way to the slum, recognized him, and approached.
They were all Luna's Knights who had opened Mana Circuits.
So their purpose was always the same. A cheap ploy to ask him to teach the sword, not the Ring.
Idiots who wandered the easy path and tried to find an even easier one.
You call it petty stubbornness and demand I teach you sword principles?
I'd rather end this wretched life.
"Actually, I came to receive your teachings, Elder."
As expected.
The words he had expected flowed from Astin's mouth.
"I'm sick of it. How many scum like you do you think I've seen?"
Hendrickson snatched the gourd at his side.
Gulp- gulp
His Adam's apple bobbed, and droplets formed on his shaggy beard.
Kuh- A heated sigh and venom spilled out.
"Seeing brats who still smell of milk like you makes me sick."
Young people these days are all a problem.
The sharp alcohol drew out the resentment lodged deep inside him.
"All of them are weak and only chase the easy path. They hate trials that cut into their own flesh, hate grueling training that grinds their bones!"
He wasn't speaking only to the youth in front of him.
He was aiming at the misguided current of the era, himself included.
"You know-nothing bastards! Just because you open a few Mana Circuits, you act as if your way is the answer and put on airs."
Without knowing pride, they treat old Knights as has-beens.
A contempt that cut across generations beyond status lurked in this Empire.
At least a minimum of respect. If only they had that meager courtesy.
If they had, he wouldn't have had to denounce them like this.
"Idiots who settled for growth without growing pains. You aren't even qualified to hold a sword. Only when training accompanies you can you truly become strong. Only then can you grasp that strength completely!"
How foolish are those who know nothing and just walk ahead.
A castle built easily is nothing but a sandcastle. It is doomed to be swept away by another tidal wave.
"You'll realize before long. That the end of the shortcut you're walking is a cliff!"
Hendrickson gasped for breath. He caught his breath and spat it out as if hurling a curse.
"Come then and regret it, beating the ground. You'll only hurt your hands, heh heh...."
Whoosh-!
The gourd that flew through the air headed for Astin's head. Astin didn't bother dodging its trajectory.
Thud!
The gourd rolled on the ground with a dull sound.
Hendrickson bared his yellow teeth and sneered.
"If you've seen this old man's foul temper, get lost. I don't even want to look at you."
...
Astin rose from his seat, pressing a hand to his knee.
Hendrickson glared at him with sharp eyes to the end. Then he clicked his tongue loudly and curled up, lying down.
"That thing just ruined my mood."
These damn Kardenos traitors. If he followed his temper, he would have taught them a lesson long ago, not just with words.
He had only sent him off unharmed out of old sentiment.
Just as Hendrickson turned over toward the wall-
Whoosh-
Without warning, heat rushed at his back.
Light fell on a corner of the chilly sewer where even sunlight did not reach.
Startled, Hendrickson immediately turned around.
An unbelievable sight was etched into his eyes.
"You...!?"
A red-gold circle rippled from Astin's Heart Core.
There was a Solar Ring burning fiercely, even though it was only one.
"Do you feel like teaching me now?"
Looking down at Hendrickson, whose mouth hung open, Astin raised the corners of his mouth.