LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 49
Chapter 49: Sword Saint of the Elf
Well, it’s Zilbagias, the Demon Lord’s Prince, utterly flabbergasted by the sword skills displayed by the Night Elf operative.
Sword Saint.
Those who have mastered the way of the sword, wielding supernatural techniques without the use of magical power.
They are the trump cards of the Human Race, standing alongside the Holy Attributes, the ultimate weapons in battles against the Demon Lord Army.
—Or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.
But for some reason, right in front of me stands someone who, despite being an elf, has perfected the sword.
“It took over fifty years to reach this state while training in human form.”
As she sheathes her sword, Virosa smiles faintly yet somewhat proudly.
Yes. They say that no matter how talented a swordsman may be, it takes at least thirty years to awaken as a Sword Saint. A mere mortal might take decades, or may never reach such a state in their lifetime.
Virosa must have undergone blood, sweat, and tears to achieve this.
Still, I couldn’t help but think, “That’s unfair.”
If she were human, by the time she mastered the sword, she would be nearing her prime and headed towards decline. How unfair for such a long-lived species. While she has mastered the sword, she’s likely to live for another hundred years without any issues—
“—Incredible. Never did I think that my first encounter with a Sword Saint would be… with an elf.”
I managed to swallow my surprise to utter those words.
“I’m the only one in my clan.”
As she releases the magic of transformation, reverting to her Night Elf form, Virosa shrugs her shoulders.
“If I were to truly embody an elf, I would have preferred to master the bow… Unfortunately, I lack talent in archery.”
Scratching her cheek and with a slightly embarrassed grin, Virosa seems to indicate that her efforts haven’t reached their limit.
“So you decided to master the sword instead?”
“Yes. While I’m infiltrating, I’ll be wielding a sword while pretending to be human. It’s quite the half-hearted weapon. It has neither the convenience of a knife nor the reach of a spear—”
What’s this? You… Are you mocking the sword…?
“—However, as I’ve used it more, I’ve grown attached to it. Pathetic, I know.”
She pats the scabbard while chuckling self-deprecatingly. Hmph. I pursed my lips. Well, if someone’s using it without enthusiasm, it’s no wonder they wouldn’t master it…
“However… I’ve never heard of a magician being favored by the principles of reality.”
Despite the differences in species, having magical power comparable to a demon, how did she even become a Sword Saint?
Basically, magicians aren’t thought to become Sword Saints.
That’s because they are disliked by the principles of reality.
The so-called principles of reality are exceedingly strict; if you throw a stone, it falls to the ground, and water always flows from a higher place to a lower one.
That’s how the world works.
The natural laws that govern the world are the principles of reality.
However, those with strong magical power, that is, magicians, can reshape reality to their liking with the power of will and words.
And when a magician holds a sword, almost unconsciously, they begin to enhance their own body or channel magic into the blade to increase its sharpness.
By doing this, the principles of reality get rather peeved.
From the perspective of the principles of reality, a magician is a lawless individual who doesn’t value their own existence. …Naturally, they must dislike such individuals.
On the contrary, those who sincerely dedicate themselves to training, aligning with the rigid principles of reality without distorting the laws, may—though very rarely—find the principles smiling upon them.
That is the supreme technique.
To cut through rocks with a wooden sword, to close the distance of several steps in an instant, to slip through the enemy’s attacks.
They can bring forth such “miracles” like magic.
These are those loved by the physical laws—Sword Saints.
By the way, there’s even a Bow Saint among the Night Elves who mastered the bow, and there are those among the Beastmen called Fist Saints who have honed their physical bodies and martial arts to the limit. Like Sword Saints, they cause “miracles” without using magic.
Isn’t it true that only fist saints can become kings among beastmen?
In any case, magicians who belittle the principles of reality can only achieve their desired results by distorting reality with magical power.
The principles of reality won’t smile upon them.
And the demon race, with strong magical power, which has made magic a part of daily life—no matter how much they hone their spear skills, they can never become “Spear Saints.”
“—While I am in human form, I can’t use any magic aside from breaking the transformation. That’s quite convenient for blending in as an ordinary person,” she explains while stroking the sword sheath, gazing somewhere distant.
“While infiltrating, I relied solely on my body and sword skills. That’s why I dedicated myself to sword training—I learned techniques from Human masters, stole their skills, and practiced. However, at that stage, I never expected to become a Sword Saint.”
The turning point arrived twenty years ago.
While infiltrating, by sheer coincidence, her identity was exposed when she was scorched by Holy Attributes and ended up having to fight the Hero in broad daylight.
“Since it was daytime, I couldn’t drop the transformation magic to escape. I was bracing myself for death. The talisman I carried couldn’t completely block the Hero’s magic, and I was engulfed in Holy flames. All my throwing arrows and poisoned needles were easily countered, leaving only my sword.”
That Hero was strong and, more than anything, extremely cautious. He enhanced himself with Holy Attributes and never neglected his defense, focusing solely on whittling away at Virosa’s stamina.
“In a clash, I was overpowered, and even when trying to close the distance, he kept throwing magic from afar. In desperation, I threw my sword sheath to create an opening…”
Yet, although that last step seemed insurmountable—
“At that moment, something strange happened. It felt as though time slowed down, and I was being pushed forward by someone from behind—”
And when I realized it, the blade that should have never reached its target had pierced the Hero’s throat.
“I still occasionally dream about that moment. Even while dying, the Hero was astonished. I’m sure I had a similar look on my face.”
—In that moment, I silently prayed for the soul of the senior Hero who must have become a sacrifice somewhere.
“And since then, I would say… I’ve become a Sword Saint. At least while I’m in human form.”
“What would happen if you wielded the sword in your true form?”
“I don’t know. I feel too afraid to try.”
Virosa answered seriously. The fearful remark seemed dreadfully out of place for an exceptionally skilled operative.
“I did practice some swings in my true form, but ever since awakening as a Sword Saint, I always make sure to use transformation magic before drawing my sword. If I accidentally swung my sword while distorting the principles of reality—”
—I feel like I’ll never be smiled upon again.
“Well, that may be true,” I replied.
The principles of reality are rather stubborn.
Rather, it’s a mystery as to why Virosa, who distorts reality with transformation magic, would be favored at all.
Is it because, even when on the verge of death, she persisted solely with her sword skills without relying on magic?
But indeed, an acquaintance who is also a Sword Saint said something similar about awakening after a life-and-death struggle. Maybe that’s just how it works…
“In any case, Your Highness. While humans may appear frail, they can also wield astonishing techniques. The same goes for the Beastman Fist Saints. Please don’t let your guard down in battle.”
“True. According to the reports I’ve read, quite a number of demon warriors have been taken down by Sword Saints.”
I often read during study sessions with Sophia, but there are countless reports saying things like, “Some warrior of the ○○ race was ambushed and killed by a Sword Saint disguised as a mere soldier,” or “So-and-so of the ×× race was killed after a one-on-one duel with a Sword Saint.”
Personally, I’m a bit skeptical.
Sword Saints typically act in tandem with magicians or heroes. No matter how exceptional their swordsmanship is, they are powerless against large-scale magic that obliterates entire spaces. Only with the support of powerful magicians capable of negating the demons’ and devils’ magic can they truly demonstrate their worth.
The idea of a Sword Saint hiding among ordinary soldiers is utterly preposterous. It would rather be saying there’s no chance of that happening.
First of all, there are way too many reports claiming that Sword Saints were slain or that they defeated other Sword Saints. If there were that many Sword Saints, it wouldn’t be that difficult. Even the alliance would be putting up more of a fight.
I suspect that they were ambushed by ordinary soldiers when they let their guard down, but because “being taken out by a mere soldier” wouldn’t sound dignified, they just categorized it as being taken down by a Sword Saint…
After all, you can’t determine if someone is a Sword Saint from a corpse. Even if a necromancer raises them as an undead, they’re just puppets and can’t perform the supreme techniques.
Such a remarkable talent, achieved through dedication and conviction over a lifetime. Even then, the peak period lasts only a decade or so, and the frustration of losing even those few Sword Saints to war…
If it were a peaceful time, those masters would have garnered nothing but respect; instead, in tumultuous times, they vanish into the shadows of history—
“—Maybe I should get your signature while I still can.”
As various thoughts swirled through my mind, I found myself saying that.
“…A signature?”
“Yeah. A magician who’s mastered a weapon from another race while also being favored by the principles of reality. It wouldn’t be odd at all for such an achievement to be remembered in history. If it’s something with your signature, even a scrap of paper could become a family heirloom.”
At my words, Virosa chuckled merrily, a glimmer of amusement in her voice.
“Your Highness, I am an operative, a person who lurks in the shadows of history. If I become well-known on the main stage, it would rather shame my clan.”
That’s a fair point, I thought, smiling wryly.
But Virosa, you truly are remarkable.
As the former Hero I was, I can’t even begin to compare to your caliber.
I’m certain of it.
There’s much to learn from her. Once, I lamented my fate to heal a highly skilled operative who would bring disaster to the alliance—
But it’s nothing. As long as I can achieve results surpassing that disaster, it’s all good.
“Master—! Dinner is ready—!”
I heard Garunya’s cheerful voice call out.
“For now, let’s eat. After we finish, please share more stories with me.”
“Gladly, Your Highness.”
I must absorb as much as I can.
While she’s still my subordinate.