The Reborn Swordmaster
Chapter 34
A little over a month had passed since Riyan visited the mausoleum where Siegfried rested.
Chirp! Chirp!
The sound of birds tickled his ears.
Riyan opened his eyes as he lay in bed.
Morning sunlight streamed through the gap in the window and stretched across the floor in a long band.
He had woken later than usual.
After getting a proper night's sleep for the first time in a while, his body felt unusually light.
Riyan sat up and casually brushed his hair back.
His gaze shifted toward the bedside.
Two objects rested side by side on the rough wooden table.
A ring with a faint sheen.
And a thin, smooth bracelet.
The former was the medium Sevanne had left behind for contacting him.
The latter was the artifact Siegfried had left him.
"..."
Riyan picked up the bracelet and wrapped it around his wrist.
Then he gently closed his eyes and murmured.
"Siegfried."
It was a brief call.
A new activation phrase.
He had considered keeping the original one, but it felt rather absurd to keep calling his old friend a drunken bastard when the man had already entered eternal rest.
In any case, the bracelet began to resonate with Riyan's voice.
Whoooosh...
Aether.
An innate power bestowed by the heavens.
It began as a single strand of blue energy, as thin as a thread.
The energy swayed like a flower petal in a spring breeze before connecting with the bracelet that had summoned it.
After confirming it, Riyan sat cross-legged, placed both hands on his knees, and quietly closed his eyes.
It was the beginning of a routine he'd repeated every day for the past month.
That month had been spent clearing and refining the path.
Before obtaining the bracelet, Riyan's problem had been simple.
The sensations and experience of his previous life remained intact, but his current body couldn't keep up with them.
Nor could he simply retrace every step of his old development and grow rapidly from the beginning.
It was similar to how an adult who already knew how to walk perfectly had no meaningful memory of the exact process of learning to take their first steps as a child.
What remained from his previous life was the sensation of perfect control and efficient use.
Of course, time would eventually solve the problem...
But he couldn't simply sit around and wait.
That was why he had remembered Siegfried's legacy.
And just as he'd expected, its effects were excellent.
"Hup!"
The moment a strand of Aether connected to the bracelet, Riyan took a deep breath and held it.
That was the signal that the process had begun.
A single strand of Aether flowed into him through the bracelet.
The uncontrolled energy immediately began thrashing around inside his body as though it had been forcefully captured.
That was only natural.
It had been roaming freely through the world, only to suddenly find itself trapped inside the narrow confines of a human body.
Now Riyan had to bring that energy under control.
Of course, it wasn't easy.
The Aether trapped inside him raged wildly.
Like an untamed horse desperate not to be caught.
Trying to suppress it with brute force would only make matters worse.
In his previous life, Riyan could have subdued it instantly.
But not with his current body.
The moment he tried to forcefully restrain it, he would risk serious internal injury.
And since this situation itself had been artificially created through the bracelet, he had to be especially careful.
He had to soothe it instead.
Riyan slowly released the breath he had been holding.
"Haa..."
He exhaled gently, calming the Aether.
Rather than opposing its nature, he opened a path in the direction it naturally wanted to flow.
Like soothing a frightened child who had lost its way.
The moment its fierce resistance weakened...
"...Hup!"
Riyan took another breath.
At the same time, he began guiding the Aether.
Not pulling it.
Not forcing it.
He simply moved ahead and let the energy follow.
From his arm to his heart.
From his heart to his head.
And from his head down into his lower abdomen.
By the time the Aether had awkwardly completed a full circuit through his body and returned to its original position, its nature had changed considerably.
It was like placing reins and a saddle on a wild horse that had once roamed freely across an open field.
At that moment, the single strand of Aether finally began following Riyan's will.
With his eyes still closed, Riyan savored the sensation.
It was a long and painstaking process.
But there was a clear reason for it.
His objective was simple.
To rebuild a vessel capable of containing the abilities of his previous life.
His mind was already a completed sword.
The only problem was that the body meant to wield that sword had yet to mature.
His current body was so poorly suited to using Aether that its channels could practically be considered completely blocked.
He needed to open those channels, widen them, clear the path, and teach his body to accept the energy.
The bracelet was the key that helped him do exactly that.
It allowed him to draw in Aether easily, leaving him free to focus solely on controlling it inside his body.
The more he repeated this circulation of energy, the more his body would gradually become capable of holding Aether properly.
For now, he could barely manage a single strand.
But that would change with time.
"Haa..."
Riyan slowly exhaled and opened his eyes.
A faint trace of blue energy escaped from his mouth, nose, and eyes.
It was the remaining Aether left over after tempering his body.
Thank you, Siegfried.
Riyan sincerely offered his gratitude to his old friend.
And the benefits weren't limited to training.
After completing the circulation, his mind and body always felt calmer and lighter.
Fatigue diminished.
So did his worries and anxieties.
In other words, it allowed him to begin each day in peak condition.
The legacy Siegfried had left behind was supporting Riyan's return to power across the span of centuries.
Rustle.
By now, the sunlight beyond the window had climbed noticeably higher.
A considerable amount of time had passed.
Bang! Bang!
Then, almost as though someone had been waiting for the right moment, a pounding came from the door.
"...You bastard! Do I seriously have to come all the way here to find you?"
It was Haral.
Hearing his voice, Riyan rose from his seat with a small smile.
"I'll be out in a moment."
"Look at that attitude. At least show your face when you answer me. Anyway, hurry up!"
At Haral's urging, Riyan got dressed.
A linen shirt.
A leather jacket.
A dark coat.
He slipped the ring onto his finger and made sure Siegfried's bracelet was properly secured around his wrist.
Finally, he stood before the mirror.
White.
White hair, black eyes, and skin so pale and clear that it almost looked translucent.
The face had felt strange at first.
Now, he was beginning to grow accustomed to it.
After staring at his reflection for a moment, Riyan turned away.
The mock naval battle is almost here.
That was also why Haral had come looking for him.
They had agreed to hold one final meeting to review everything before the upcoming match.
Sevanne's conditions had been clear.
Win the mock naval battle overwhelmingly.
And when the disturbance began, play his role well.
His personal objective was equally clear.
Make Aries a Champion.
Keeping those goals in mind, Riyan opened the door.
Haral was leaning against the corridor wall, yawning widely.
"Yaaawn..."
Riyan chuckled when he saw the man rubbing tears from his eyes.
"Did you stay awake all night?"
"That's the first thing you say after seeing my face?"
"Why act surprised now?"
"You're getting way too comfortable with me. Anyway, must be nice being you. Everyone else is nervous with the mock naval battle coming up."
"If you're worried, then prepare until there's nothing left to worry about. Anxiety comes from knowing you haven't prepared enough."
"You and that mouth of yours."
Haral grumbled, but there was a smile on his lips.
The two walked down the corridor, exchanging idle remarks.
"Are we going straight to Director Berka?"
"Yeah. Preparations are basically finished. We're just going to do one final review among ourselves."
"A review? What else is there to check at this point?"
"I don't know. Apparently, he has a few things he wants to say."
Haral scratched the back of his neck.
"We'll find out when we get there. Whether it's good news or another lecture, you can ignore half of whatever comes out of that old man's mouth anyway."
For a moment, silence settled between them.
Looking at the warm sunlight beyond the corridor windows, Riyan spoke quietly.
"I heard you're quitting after the mock naval battle."
"Yeah."
"Because of me?"
At Riyan's question, Haral scratched his chin.
"I can't say you had nothing to do with it. But I've always wanted to quit eventually."
"Because you have money now?"
"Exactly, you bastard. Before this, I kept working because I didn't have any."
Haral had made a considerable fortune betting on Riyan's match against Yavrik.
"If I tell Berka I'm leaving, he'll probably give me something extra too. Add that to the gold I made from the bet, and I should have enough to settle down somewhere."
"Settle down... Are you going to put down the sword completely?"
"I don't know. I've spent my whole life making a living with a blade. If I give it up, it's not like I know how to do anything else."
"What about one of the frontier provinces?"
Haral raised an eyebrow.
"The frontier?"
"I've heard monsters are still a real threat there, and there are plenty of raiders who look human but are no different from monsters inside. You could settle in some village and use your sword to help keep it safe."
"So you're telling me to find some naive country girl, settle down, and play righteous hero with a sword on my hip?"
"Wouldn't be a bad deal for either you or the village. They'd gain a capable swordsman who wouldn't be leaving anytime soon."
"Why would I ever..."
Haral smacked his lips.
Riyan added one more thing.
"You've spent your life killing. It might not be a bad balance to spend the rest of it saving people."
"..."
Haral stared at Riyan.
Were those really words that should come from someone young enough to be his nephew?
Riyan's words continued circling inside his head.
Eventually, Haral let out a hollow laugh.
"Yeah. Thanks for the advice."
"Don't mention it."
There was an unusual tension inside Berka's office.
And it wasn't simply because of the determined expression on Berka's face.
On the table sat a miniature map of the Imperial Capital Arena.
Several small model galleys had been placed across it.
Each ship bore a flag representing the groups participating in the upcoming mock naval battle.
"The mock naval battle is four days from now."
Berka planted both hands on the table and began speaking.
"It's one of the Empire's major annual events. You both know this already, but this isn't just a match. It takes the longest to prepare, consumes the most resources, and is one of the festivals the Empire puts the greatest amount of effort into."
Berka tapped the miniature Arena with one finger.
"High-ranking nobles. Tens of thousands of Imperial citizens. Every eye in the Imperial Capital will be focused on that place. Do you understand what it means to achieve something there?"
As Berka spoke in a grave tone, Haral let out an enormous yawn.
"Is there anyone in our training center who doesn't know? You've said it hundreds of times already."
"You bastard! I'm in the middle of an important speech! Riyan, you answer."
Why is he even asking this?
Still, Riyan couldn't bring himself to ignore the expectant look in Berka's eyes.
"It means wealth, fame, and freedom are waiting."
"And the wealth and fame?"
"Belong to Rodus."
"And the last one?"
"Belongs to the fighters, including me."
"Exactly!"
Clap!
Berka laughed loudly and clapped his hands.
Then he met Riyan's gaze again and lowered his voice.
"One hundred and fifty gold coins. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
How could he?
That was the day Riyan had awakened in his new body.
Unfortunately, the monster he'd killed that day had belonged to Marquis Fenric Novale, the Treasurer.
The creature had been valued at one hundred and fifty gold coins.
Riyan still found it difficult to understand the logic of ordering him to fight something, then demanding that he repay its full value after he killed it.
"I remember."
"Good. Then this will go faster. Haral, explain the rest to him."
Berka gestured toward Haral.
Haral, looking thoroughly bored from having memorized the plan long ago, began arranging the miniature galleys.
"First, our alliance. Rodus, Verso, Raus, Glia, and Dotra. The exact numbers differ, but each training center is contributing roughly twenty to thirty fighters. We'll be using three galleys."
Three model galleys moved onto the miniature Arena.
"The two ships on the flanks will carry fifty fighters each. The center ship is the one you'll be aboard. It'll carry the ten-man special detachment, including Aries, plus around ten or fifteen ordinary fighters. So not quite thirty people total."
"What about the oarsmen?"
"There aren't any. The ships will move using magic."
Moving entire ships with magic.
It was impressive.
Of course, something like that was only possible because the match took place on an artificial lake in the middle of the Imperial Capital rather than on the actual sea.
"If magic controls the ships, can their movements be adjusted precisely?"
"Of course not. If everyone could move however they wanted, they'd all just watch each other and refuse to ram first. Why would anyone voluntarily spill blood for someone else's entertainment?"
"Fair point."
"The organizers will move the ships in ways that make the battle exciting for the nobles and spectators. So if you've been thinking about exploiting the ship movements, you'd better forget it."
"That's not particularly good news."
"No, but it isn't all bad either. They need the match to be entertaining, right? That means they'll keep things balanced to some extent. And that's where we can take advantage of..."
"The special detachment."
"Exactly."
The plan was simple.
Once the ships were brought alongside each other in a suitably dramatic arrangement, close-quarters combat would begin.
Naturally, one side would eventually start gaining the advantage.
At that point, depending on the organizers' judgment, reinforcements would be sent to the side that was falling behind.
After all, it would be a problem in its own way if such a carefully prepared festival ended too quickly.
"Hearing that, our shield-wall tactics may be even more effective than I expected."
At Riyan's words, Berka grinned.
"You really do understand two things when I tell you one. Exactly. The whole point of the tactic is to preserve strength, maintain formation, and wait for an opening. But from the outside, it looks like we're constantly being pushed back."
"So they'll assume we're losing and send support. And the reinforcing galley is likely to be the one carrying the smaller special detachment."
"Exactly!"
Smack!
Berka slapped his fist into his palm.
"The moment the support arrives, Riyan, you and the special detachment launch a full offensive and turn the entire battle around in one move!"
It wasn't an especially sophisticated strategy.
But considering they couldn't control the galleys themselves, it was also a plan that exploited the rules and weaknesses of the match rather well.
"However, we need to preserve the special detachment for a while. You won't be going out from the beginning."
"What's the current overall layout? I mean the size of our forces and the enemy's."
"We have three ships. Trident and its allied training centers will probably have four. The remaining two or three ships will belong to unaffiliated training centers and fighters supplied by the Empire simply to fill the numbers."
Berka quickly rearranged the models.
The miniature Arena, which had initially seemed spacious, now looked cramped as ten galleys crowded into it.
Even assuming only fifty people per ship, that was roughly five hundred fighters.
The number itself meant little to Riyan, who had once dominated real battlefields.
But this was a sporting event being held for entertainment in the heart of the Imperial Capital.
"The overall flow will probably be simple. First, everyone will eliminate the sacrificial groups that are only there to fill numbers. There's no need to pay much attention to them. They're just dead weight. We'll preserve the special detachment until then. But after those groups have all been dealt with..."
Tap. Tap.
Berka flipped three of the model galleys over.
Seven remained.
"That's when we fight the Trident alliance."
"Exactly. If you look at the numbers alone, there could be a considerable difference. One of our ships will be understrength. We may even be outnumbered almost two to one. But as I said, we have the special detachment."
"Our numbers may be lower, but the organizers need to keep the battle competitive. If that's the case, it's still workable."
Berka clenched his fist tightly.
"Exactly! It's workable! I believe we can do this. Don't you agree, Haral?"
Haral, who had been watching quietly, shrugged.
"Probably. There'll be variables, as always."
"Variables?"
Riyan tilted his head.
Berka sighed.
"He means the gimmicks the organizers change every year during the mock naval battle. Last year, they created heavy rain with magic. The year before that... What was it again?"
Berka hesitated.
Haral answered for him.
"They requisitioned twice as many fighters."
"Ah, right. Damn it. The slave-fighter market was completely drained that year. Still, it'll be fine. Those variables aren't designed to benefit only one side. What matters is..."
Berka paused.
Then he looked directly at Riyan.
"We have to win. For wealth, glory, and freedom!"
He leaned forward and thrust out his fist.
Riyan quietly nodded.
"Understood."
"Good. Today's the final joint training session, so go take care of the special detachment. If you want, have a drink together afterward. You may belong to different training centers, but for one day, you'll be comrades fighting on the same side."
Berka had been insisting that victory was possible, but the tension on his face was obvious.
Riyan, however, wasn't particularly concerned.
Winning was already a foregone conclusion.
That wasn't arrogance.
He'd watched the fighters' training closely until now, and their condition justified that confidence.
The real problem is...
What exactly was the "appropriate moment" Sevanne had mentioned?
"I'll head out first. Like you said, I'll inspect the special detachment one last time and talk to them."
"Hm? Ah! Go ahead! If you need anything, tell Haral. Hey, Haral, you go with him too!"
Haral's expression immediately soured at the realization that he'd just been assigned to look after the fighters again.
