CLANG—!!

The sword shot up into open air. From the rising blade, fragments of sword force scattered like spray.

CRACKLE—!

A small festival of thunder energy. The lightning it created shattered and lit up the air.

“Ghk!?”

A stifled groan spilled from Namgung Cheon. He hadn’t expected that. What the hell just happened?

What just happened?

He reconstructed his movements and picked out every habit that could become a problem.

He’d erased them, scrubbed away anything that might turn into a variable—

And yet.

I cut the path inside that?

He was rattled. What was this? Why was it turning out like this?

And—

I believed you were a genius.

The words I’d said while batting away his attacks.

They lodged in Namgung Cheon’s chest like a splinter.

What had I meant?

He couldn’t know that, either. The only thing he could know right now was—

FWOOOOOOOM—!!!

The moon was pouring down on him.

*****

I believed.

So there would be no hesitation. So it would be only natural.

I believed and believed again. And I prayed.

Please—be a genius.

That smug young man in front of me. That monster anyone could see, wearing razor-sharp thunder, calling down lightning.

I needed him to be a genius.

A freak born with talent I couldn’t even dream of touching.

So that,—

just like the Black-Grand Saber had—

he’d be someone who could observe everything he’d grasped, then change it himself.

That was what I wanted. What I kept wanting.

SHWIK—!!

The sword flew in. I saw its shape and twisted my body.

SWISH—!

It grazed my crown by a hair. The sword’s speed was lightning itself, so the speed it returned with would be just as fast—

But even in that instant, a gap is born.

I bored in, stepping into his reach. His sword was already fully extended.

Moon-Spirit Sword Path. My opened eyes /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ fixed on Namgung Cheon. Aside from the sword path of the extended blade, I couldn’t feel anything else.

Now.

WHOOOOOSH—! The blade I’d already lifted poured out light.

A dazzling brilliance that made the clear day even brighter.

Blue Moon Sword Dance.

Radiant Moon Annihilation-Overturn.

And on the blade I’d raised, the night sky spread and smothered everything.

Night Moon.

Like I was carving downward, I fired the night straight into Namgung Cheon.

GRAB—!

SHRAAAK—!!

“Ghhk!”

Blood sprayed. My sword cut through his Thunder Armor and slammed him down into the tournament stage.

KWAANG—!!

The ground crumpled under sword force. Staggering, Namgung Cheon retreated.

TRICKLE—.

The Thunder Armor he wore was torn, and where my slash had passed, a sword wound opened across his upper body.

But—

Too shallow.

I creased my brow, frustrated. The attack landed, but it didn’t truly bite.

My sword hadn’t fully severed the Thunder Armor.

I’d succeeded in cutting it because I’d burrowed into the opening Moon Eyes showed me, but—

So what?

It wasn’t a complete collapse.

The Thunder Armor was harder than I’d imagined.

And he still dodged.

Namgung Cheon’s snap judgment meant the strike didn’t fully connect.

Seriously.

He’s a monster. He dodged even in that.

If it were me, I’d have lost already. But Namgung Cheon evaded even in that sliver of time.

He really is incredible.

It was worth admiring. The greatest talents of the Central Plains really were different.

And even as I felt that—

Thanks to it, it worked.

Because Namgung Cheon had that talent, I got a chance at all.

“Hoo.”

I forced down the heat in my chest and stared at Namgung Cheon. He looked at me with eyes blown wide, like the wound didn’t even matter.

—WAAAAAAAHHHH—!!!

Cheers crashed down.

“The Little Sword Saint landed one!”

“How’d that happen? He was getting pushed back until just now.”

“Did he create a gap for an instant?”

I created a gap.

At that, I thought to myself.

Half right.

Half right, half wrong.

It’s true I made a gap—and the other half was just a miracle I’d wanted so badly it made me sick.

Like I said at the start.

I only believed.

That you’d be a genius.

I believed, with everything I had, that Namgung Cheon was a genius—because only then would I get an opening.

I’m weaker than Namgung Cheon.

I admit it. That was objective.

I couldn’t beat Namgung Cheon head-on.

Because he was strong. You could tell if you fought him, and you could tell even if you didn’t.

He’s a man that shouldn’t exist.

Back during what they called the second preliminaries, I remembered Namgung Cheon fighting the junior generation without pause.

He was overwhelming. The destructive power and the battle sense were so savage you couldn’t even call him the same junior generation.

The Namgung Clan sword, they said, was delicate and clean.

But Namgung Cheon was different.

His sword was far more barbaric and rough.

And from behind, I analyzed him like a madman.

That was why I hadn’t joined the fight.

It wasn’t just that I didn’t need to.

I didn’t have time, because I was busy memorizing his movements and traits.

So for nearly half a day, I let Namgung Cheon fight and I tore him apart in my head.

I’d had information from the Beggar Clan too, but it wasn’t enough. Namgung Cheon had far more habits and characteristics than I’d expected.

A savage way of fighting. A style built on a solid foundation but leaning heavily on instinct—meaning, in other words, he was full of habits that could harden.

And compared to the Black-Grand Saber, Namgung Cheon actually had more of that.

From the tiniest ones to countless others.

His habits and motions. The secondary motions born from them—I calculated them.

I stuffed my head with possibilities until it was packed full, too many to count.

Once you do that—

no matter if he wears Thunder Armor, or uses hidden energy to raise his speed—

it doesn’t erase the habits he’s carried.

Because Namgung Cheon is still Namgung Cheon.

Only—

knowing the motions doesn’t let you win.

Even if you can predict it, you can’t answer everything.

Because Namgung Cheon is truly strong.

Even with Moon Eyes, even with Moon-Spirit Sword Path, it was impossible to grasp and respond to everything he had.

He was too fast. Too strong.

So I was busy just blocking and redirecting.

If I blocked cleanly, my arm would hit its limit too fast. So I redirected.

Even redirecting brought fatigue crashing in, so I kept trying to control it anyway.

And I kept the fight going.

Thanks to that, I’m at my limit.

The body that endured and endured was already at the edge.

It meant it was genuinely dangerous now. No matter how much I dodged, blocked, and redirected, I’d hit the wall first.

And if I stop being able to block—

I lose. My gut told me. If I took one clean hit from his sword, I’d lose.

Even if I could see the sword path—see the route I could attack—my experience and talent in martial learning weren’t enough to overcome the gap in realm and drill in.

So I chose it.

If you don’t have talent in martial learning, you fill it with something else.

Nothing is truly unreachable.

There is always a method somewhere, and I only had to find it.

Think.

I thought.

Think more,

over and over.

And then, like always, a method existed.

Funny enough, I thought of it thanks to the Poison Dragon.

That match—Poison Dragon versus the Black-Grand Saber. In that place, I found the hope that could win this fight.

And that hope was—

Namgung Cheon is a genius.

It required one condition: Namgung Cheon had to be a genius on par with the Black-Grand Saber.

If that wasn’t true, there was no way to win.

And—

you were a genius.

Thankfully, Namgung Cheon was a genius.

A genius so bright it felt like he might touch the sky.

And as proof—

you corrected every one of your habits.

It was instant.

The Black-Grand Saber fixed his weakness in the wrist and close combat immediately, right there in his fight against the Poison Dragon—

and Namgung Cheon did the same.

A monster.

Is he even human?

You changed long-ingrained habits and the secondary motions they produced?

To me, it was impossible. But Namgung Cheon did it.

And thanks to that, I landed a hit.

I used it, and I succeeded in striking Namgung Cheon.

The reason it was possible was simple.

Changing your habits all at once means—

in other words, you’re using motions with comparatively less mastery.

A gap is born that wasn’t there before. Of course, I might not be able to see it—

but Moon Eyes is different.

Moon Eyes. And the Moon-Spirit Sword Dance that succeeded in opening its eyes—was different.

Moon-Spirit Sword Dance had struggled to find true purchase inside Namgung Cheon’s savage sword path, unable to fully draw out its power—

but in the place he changed, it found the answer.

A single line.

A light clearer and sharper than anything.

Moonlight told me where to go.

And I still didn’t finish it.

I should’ve done it with that one strike. The fact I couldn’t was infuriating.

“Puh-huuuu....”

I steadied my breathing and gripped my sword tight.

Even if it’s frustrating, what can I do?

If I couldn’t complete it, then I had to find another method.

It’d get a little annoying, sure.

If it were the old me, I would’ve just forfeited around here.

Honestly, I want to forfeit.

I shouldn’t have missed that chance. That one strike was the best chance I’d ever get to catch a monster like Namgung Cheon.

“Hoo.”

Since I failed, the right move would be to forfeit for real—

Fuck it.

I didn’t.

It’s that damned Poison Dragon. Because of him, I’m standing here and doing this, on purpose.

Then—

[Want me to help?]

Out of nowhere, Yoo Cheongil spoke to me.

A temptation. The temptation of that huge, nasty old man.

[If you want it, I’ll help.]

“....”

It was tempting. Honestly, if I just handed my body over right now, everything would be solved.

I knew he could do things with my body that I couldn’t.

But—

No.

I shook my head slightly.

It would’ve been easy to just give in, but I didn’t.

Stubborn as shit. Stubborn as shit.

It was pride. Obsession.

A leftover urge to do it with my own hands.

“...This— hahahaha.”

Namgung Cheon laughed.

“...Little Sword Saint.”

Then he flashed his eyes at me.

“...You truly are a monster.”

“...Huh?”

Who the hell is calling who a monster?

It was absurd.

I’d been twisting my brain into knots trying to beat him, and he calls me a monster?

Who’s the monster here?

Namgung Cheon probably understood.

Why he’d been struck. Why I’d said I believed he was a genius.

Because he understood that secret, he said what he said.

You’re the monster—the one who recognized the situation from that alone.

I laughed.

And I didn’t answer. Because I had something else to deal with, too.

Then—

“I acknowledge it.”

CRACKLE-CRACKLE-CRACKLE—!!!

RUMBLE—!!!

Thunder surged. It wasn’t like before.

“I acknowledge you. I’ll blame my arrogance.”

“...Well, thanks. I guess.”

At my words, Namgung Cheon smiled.

Then the Thunder Armor wrapped around his body expanded.

The energy that had only been coiled around the inside of his left arm spread to his right, and engulfed his whole upper body.

The larger it grew, the brighter it shone—

His left hand?

Namgung Cheon suddenly moved the sword he’d been holding in his right hand into his left.

I didn’t get it for a second, and then I understood.

He’s hurt.

When I slashed his upper body, his right hand took damage. That’s why he switched grips.

“Hm.”

And he still had that much power.

No—he hadn’t even been using his full power until now.

I narrowed my eyes.

The Thunder Armor shifted again. The energy that wrapped his upper body flowed into the sword, too.

It wasn’t ordinary sword force.

It felt like another sword layered over the sword itself.

What the hell is that?

[Thunder God Sword Descent.]

I listened to Yoo Cheongil. That had to be the name of this state.

And then—

GRIP—!!

“...!”

My shoulders abruptly sank, like something crushed down on them.

Namgung Cheon’s presence.

Don’t tell me—

King’s Sword Forms.

The Namgung Clan’s signature. The power that maximized presence and crushed the opponent under intimidation.

Ha.

He was serious. Namgung Cheon really meant to grind me into paste.

So up until now he’d been testing me?

“SSSSSSS—.”

I let out a breath.

Ah. I’m fucked, aren’t I?

How am I supposed to deal with that?

There was no time to think.

Should I do it?

I looked at Yoo Cheongil.

He watched me, then nodded.

[Yeah. Let’s see you slam into it.]

He gave permission with a grin.

A throb shot through my head at that grin. The recoil from Moon-Spirit Sword Path.

I couldn’t keep it up long. I was already at my limit—and I’d never held it this long before.

But—

this is the only way I can use it.

There’s something I can only do while I keep Moon-Spirit Sword Path up.

If he used a signature art, then I had one too.

I didn’t come out of seclusion with just my eyes open.

CLINK.

I raised my sword.

SSSSSSS—.

I sent energy into it. And then, the Radiant Moon Annihilation-Overturn clinging to my sword changed.

KWA-GA-GA-GA-GAK—!!

The light that had been softly glowing began to thrash violently.

[Now. Show that arrogant Namgung descendant.]

While I focused, Yoo Cheongil spoke.

[No matter how much that worthless thunder fills the sky—]

The Radiant Moon Annihilation-Overturn that had been thrashing calmed after a moment.

And then—

[there is always a moon rising above it.]

FWAH—!

An enormous light blinked the world out.