The 9th Class Swordmaster: Blade of Truth-Chapter 446: Attitude

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Chapter 446: Attitude

“The sky is changing,” Kinu Mukari remarked in a low voice, gazing at the crimson sunset in the distance. He needed no Infinity Circle—his sight was sharp enough.

“It must be the sign of the Third Calamity our lord warned us about.”

“We’ve finished our preparations to stop them,” said one of the troops stationed along the city walls. Everyone stared at the blood-red moon hanging in the distance, their expressions tense.

“But... are we truly prepared?” Miliana asked with a firm expression, though her voice was laced with doubt.

“Our lord said that the Third Calamity, known as Lice, is a swarm of creatures with a form that’s hard to discern. Unlike Hekqet, they’re likely to be extremely small, almost impossible to detect with the naked eye.”

“Well, how are we supposed to help if we can’t even see them?” Beikan argued, his uneasiness clear.

“Not all battles can be won with the sword, you know? The same goes for the Calamities. You can cleave a rock with a blade, but you can’t cut through water.”

“I don’t know about that. I reckon our queen over here could cut even water,” Hashir remarked.

“Aren’t you cheeky?” Miliana snorted.

The Wolf-Fox leader shrugged nonchalantly.

“Our power isn’t limited to the sword,” Miliana went on, her expression turning serious again. “For this Calamity, it’s not the sword that we need. We need magic. Swordsmen must support the sorcerers in this fight. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? That’s why I called you here.”

Miliana turned around, and the others followed her gaze toward the person she was addressing.

“Serga.”

The man stood there with an unyielding presence. His eyes gleamed with sharp intelligence, and though the empire he once served had fallen, he still wore the distinguished robes of its Academy.

“Or shall I call you Repin? When was the last time someone called you by your name? Perhaps not since your childhood. I know the House of Serga has a tradition of addressing its patriarch by its title, but the empire no longer exists, right?”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Their gazes were tense, as though regarding a mysterious man from a foreign land.

It was only natural. Repin Serga, once hailed as the youngest Great Sorcerer of the empire, was a figure shrouded in rumor. Few had met him in person.

Is that him?

He’s younger than I thought.

He looks so fragile. Can he really be of any use in battle? He looks like he belongs in a library, not a battlefield.

Unsurprisingly, the northern and southern warriors weren’t fond of him. When the empire fell and Karyl established the Free Nation, Repin had refused to surrender, unlike Kadin Luer, the head of the Imperial Academy.

To them, Serga likely appeared as nothing more than an arrogant and out-of-touch noble.

“Serga will suffice. Even if the nation is gone, the bloodline remains,” Repin said calmly.

“...!!”

The moment his voice, laced with mana, resonated through the air, everyone’s perception shifted dramatically.

What... is this?

His voice was incredibly clear—perhaps too clear—like a pristine pane of glass. It left the others with a strange sense of cleansing, as though it had purified their hearts.

Was Repin Serga always this extraordinary? I knew he was a genius, but... I never imagined he was this powerful.

Even those particularly knowledgeable about mana, such as Anthem Howard from the former Lurein Principality, looked at Repin with astonishment.

“So you’re aware of the weight your bloodline carries. Then I trust you also understand how you should address me,” Miliana said, her tone firm.

Repin’s expression hardened momentarily but quickly softened as he bowed low.

“Of course. You’re a paragon of magical might, standing even above dragons. I shall heed your call without question.”

“They say you’re a prideful one, but I see you’ve been tamed well,” Miliana sneered. “I’m impressed.”

Behind Repin, three figures stood in silence, exchanging bitter smiles at her words.

“With Toska’s ancient blood flowing through you, it’s only natural that we should aid your cause.”

A deep, resonant voice echoed through the air. It belonged to the Dragon Lord, Enuma Elashi. Standing beside him were the Red Dragon, Python, and the Green Dragon, Cruah.

All three dragons had gathered in one place.

“Of course, teaching him the secrets of draconic mana to win him over was a hard decision. You should be grateful,” Enuma remarked. “We broke an unspoken rule at the request of your lord.”

“Unspoken rule? The world is on the brink of ruin. Who cares about such things now?” Miliana retorted sharply.

Enuma let out a bitter chuckle. “In the current situation, the power of magic is vital. We don’t know where the enemy will appear or where the first attack will come. All we can do is prepare.”

He turned his gaze toward Serga.

“You’ll need to lead the academy’s sorcerers into the frontlines in place of Kadin Luer. Considering how you’ve kept your face hidden until now, I trust your abilities will be sufficient.”

“I am not fit to lead a battalion of sorcerer soldiers,” Serga replied calmly. “Let Kadin continue to oversee the Academy. I will act independently.”

Miliana nodded as though she had anticipated his response.

“Very well. You’re one of the ten who cleared the tower with Karyl. Your time on the frontlines won’t be prolonged, but at the very least, you must prove your worth.”

“I understand,” Serga replied, his voice steady.

“We can vouch for that,” Python interjected, standing beside Enuma. “His magical aptitude is truly exceptional. Teaching him was rewarding, even if it wasn’t a direct order from the Lord.”

Cruah nodded in agreement.

“So, you’ve learned the magic of three dragons? Serga, you’ve received blessings no ordinary sorcerer could dream of. You should be thanking me,” Miliana teased with a smirk.

But nearby, the expressions of Mikhail and Serica Lauren hardened. As fellow sorcerers, they couldn’t help but remember how Serga’s name had always been mentioned, even when he was absent from their ranks.

Now, here he stood—a student of the dragons. They couldn’t help being wary of him.

“The Ulkas Guild supports both of you,” Thomson whispered, sensing their unease. Having been a less distinguished sorcerer himself, he knew how it felt to confront formidable rivals.

“There’s no need to worry,” Serica replied calmly.

“I walk a different path from him,” Mikhail added, his tone steady.

Contrary to Thomson’s concerns, the two viewed Serga’s arrival not as a threat but as the emergence of a new rival, one that reignited their fighting spirit.

“Fair enough. I was worrying over nothing,” Thomson muttered, realizing he had forgotten something important.

Mikhail and Serica were just as extraordinary in their own ways.

“The magic that binds us, even the shackles of Polsetia, is something none of you can fully comprehend,” Enuma said, his gaze resting on Miliana.

“While our help isn’t only driven by the chains around our necks, something else here caught us by surprise.”

Enuma’s eyes shifted past Miliana to someone behind her. Slowly, he knelt, followed by Python and Cruah, who bowed their heads as well.

“We greet the Sun.”

“Haha... Rise, Lord,” came the reply.

“Do not call me that,” Toska replied, his tone calm yet commanding. “This position rightfully belongs to you now.”

There was only one being in this world to whom Enuma Elashi would show such deep reverence: the ancient Golden Dragon.

Toska stood before them, his body shimmering faintly, as though made of magical light rather than flesh.

“I am no longer among the living. I am unlike you.”

“We realized it was your power that stopped the Second Calamity,” Enuma said. “When your solar power erupted over the continent, we were astonished beyond words.”

“Karyl helped. None of it would’ve been possible if he hadn’t broken the seal on me,” Toska explained.

“Just as I expected... That was his doing. Simply calling him remarkable feels inadequate. He stands at the center of everything happening on this continent.”

“But even he cannot do everything alone. That is why I ask you to lend your strength to Karyl and to humanity.”

Toska placed a hand on Enuma’s shoulder. His translucent form radiated a calm, dignified aura.

“Do not look down on humanity as I once did in the Mythical Era. See them as allies, not as inferiors.”

“...I will keep that in mind,” Enuma replied solemnly.

At his words, Toska nodded gently.

“It’s been a while. The last time we were together, you were just hatchlings... and now, you’re fellow ancient dragons,” Toska remarked.

“Indeed...” Enuma Elashi murmured, his expression tinged with nostalgia.

“I’ve done all I can,” Miliana muttered softly to herself, as if to dispel the lingering unease in her chest. Her apprehension didn’t stem from the approaching battle.

Karyl...

The weight of his absence bore down on her more than she had expected. It wasn’t just the shame of feeling inadequate as a warrior—it was something more profound, though she wasn’t yet aware of it.

“Tsk. No use to dwell on such pointless things... It’ll only dampen my morale. Perhaps I’m simply worn out from all the fighting...”

She shook her head.

“How could the Dragon Empress say such things?” Beikan remarked, his voice light with disbelief.

Miliana gave a faint chuckle.

“It’s nothing. So tell me, what was Pharel like? Was it worse than the wars we’ve faced so far?”

“Nothing special, but the team wouldn’t have made it out alive without me,” Hwarin boasted.

“Well...” Beikan let out a low sigh. “To be honest, I’d rather forget about that place. I’m glad I’m back here, on the lands where I was born and raised. But that gloomy tower? I can’t even imagine how awful it would be to be stuck there forever, surrounded by monstrosities.”

“If any of us had been left alone there...” Kinu Mukari added, his lips dry, “they would likely have lost their mind.”

* * *

“Hmm...”

Karyl slowly opened his eyes.

“I’m getting used to this,” he murmured with a satisfied look, gazing at the dark markings on his legs. They resembled the mane of the Lycanthrope.

“Ghrrr...”

Standing beside him, the massive wolf let out a low growl. Karyl promptly patted it on the head and stepped onto its back.

“I’m going to nap. Wake me when we reach the exit,” he said casually.

“Ghrrr...”

The wolf seemed unbothered by Karyl. Dead monsters piled into a mountain behind the beast, the foul stench of death filling the air.

Without a hint of caution, he sprawled across the wolf’s back as if it were his own bed. He closed his eyes at once, his body completely at ease.

Whoooosh...!

In their wake, the thousands of corpses crumbled to ash, disintegrating as though consumed by invisible flames. The dust scattered into the void, leaving nothing behind.