"Focus your minds! Losing to a cursed sword would be a disgrace to this school!"
The disciples swung their blades with unflagging intensity. The dojo of the Sword Saint's school. In this place, where the claw marks of the cursed sword still lingered, a feverish energy burned even hotter than before.
The Sword Saint, Thorne Lowel, cast a sharp gaze over his students before looking down at the source of the commotion beside him.
The cursed sword was plunged deep into its pedestal, gleaming quietly in the sunlight.
While Nadori had been wielding it, the blade had reportedly been an all-consuming pitch-black, but its current blade shimmered with a bewitching crimson that unsettled the heart.
This was most likely it.
A sword whose eerie glow ensnared people, driving whoever wielded it to madness. A genuine sword of demonic nature.
That Nadori — one of the school's more skilled fighters — had been possessed by a cursed sword was an event without precedent.
The Sword Saint's school held a special standing in the imperial capital thanks to the prowess of its members. Its disciples counted among the aristocracy, and at times they stood shoulder to shoulder with the knights' order.
Some citizens would even declare outright that the Sword Saint's school was stronger than the knights' order. Had word gotten out that a swordsman of this caliber had been possessed by a cursed sword and gone on a rampage, the school's reputation would have plummeted — and with it, the nation's strength. Not everyone among the aristocracy was a friend to the school.
That things had been contained to this degree was thanks to Lord Franz's swift response. The damage to the dojo could not be hidden, but a gag order had been imposed at the last possible moment.
The incident never made it into the newspapers or any other media. Rumors might circulate, but since no citizens were harmed, there was no concrete evidence, and no formal issue could be raised.
Apparently, Lord Franz had been asked through a Resonance Stone by that Thousand Transformations to mediate. The man had delivered the sword himself and then had the audacity to ask for a favor — what an incorrigible fellow.
And the reason almost no one among the disciples who knew the truth had left the school was because Thorne himself had proven his strength.
Above all, Thorne-style swordsmanship tempered the mind, technique, and body alike, teaching its practitioners not to drown in power, to stand firm even in the most despairing of battles, and to maintain a heart like still water no matter the circumstances.
By that creed, Nadori had simply been too immature.
Whether the blame lay with Thousand Transformations was beside the point. Ultimately, this was a shameful outcome for the head of the school.
His own prized student, whom he had personally trained to hone mind, technique, and body, had been swayed.
He placed his hand on the pommel of the cursed sword.
To master the sword, he had traveled the world. He had fought countless powerful opponents, been blessed with countless friends, and before he knew it, he had come to be called the Sword Saint.
This was the potential of a human being. Even a cursed sword could not corrupt a spirit honed as sharp as a blade.
Thorne himself was still only halfway along the path, but even so, he could brush aside something like this cursed sword.
He surveyed the disciples swinging their blades and raised his voice.
"True… this sword hides a fearsome power. It is a demonic blade that ensnares its wielder and draws them toward slaughter. But what this sword exploits is the weakness lurking within your own heart. Once you reach the realm of a polished mirror and still water, you will never be swayed by the sword."
And so — Luke Saikol, who had pursued the way of the sword with nothing but a straight, almost fanatical purity, was never swayed even upon taking up the cursed sword.
All famous swords, to a greater or lesser extent, tested the hearts of those who touched them. The moment one could handle this blade without losing one's sanity — that was when one could truly be called a swordsman worthy of the title, regardless of one's prior skill or achievements.
The holy sword chooses its wielder, and so too does the cursed sword.
"Anyone who believes they are ready may challenge the cursed sword at any time. I shall oversee it personally. When you conquer this sword's temptation, you will ascend to a yet higher realm."
With this new, clear goal set before them, the disciples' spirits tightened with resolve. The faint trace of fear still lingering in the cursed sword's eerie glow visibly faded.
At this rate, it would not be long before a swordsman emerged who could overcome the cursed sword.
Voices brimming with fighting spirit rose up. Nadori, whose wounds had been treated, had rejoined them and was swinging his blade with the same fierce intensity.
It was then that Luke, who had been practicing cuts alone with a wooden sword, spoke up.
"Master… what about my trial?"
"Luke, you… learn not to cut."
"I already learned that ages ago from Cly — Anyway, Master, I wanna fight someone strong and cut 'em down!"
I have told him this many times myself, of course…
Come to think of it, Luke… Could it be that he wasn't swayed by the sword because he was already too far gone to begin with?
Overwhelmed by an indefinable sensation, Thorne let out a deep sigh.
Guiding a disciple onto the right path — even with the power of the Sword Saint, it was remarkably difficult.
§ § § "Hmm… So this is what they call a blessing in disguise…"
"It rivals a magic staff of the highest-grade Treasure Weapon… The amplification values are terrifying…" His voice mingled with fear and excitement, assistant Anna's words trailed off. Sage Crasta, sensing that Lucia's oft-repeated stories about her brother were no joke, rapped his index finger against his forehead.
The main hall of the Zebuldia Magic Academy was packed with its leading professors. The school building and barrier had not yet been fully repaired, but word of a new discovery had drawn them all here.
In the center of the hall stood a peculiar staff made entirely of black material. But it was no ordinary staff.
Anyone with even a modicum of magical knowledge could see it clearly — the vortex of mana the staff was gathering from the surrounding air, a rare phenomenon that only occurred with the very finest of mage staves.
A superior staff converged the mage's own mana and the mana drifting through the atmosphere, converting it into power and manifesting magic with extraordinary efficiency.
The staff had been crafted from the ash of the black World Tree that had rampaged through the academy, razing it in every direction.
Sage had been surprised when told it would serve as an extraordinarily potent catalyst, but that it would also produce such flawless values as a staff — the assembled professors' faces no longer held any anger over the destruction of their school building.
"The black World Tree… Could the information that it was an imitation of the World Tree not be entirely wrong?"
"Was mana absorption merely a secondary effect? Considering its behavior, it makes more sense that its true purpose was growth. The World Tree is said to be rooted in the earth, accumulating vast quantities of mana over vast stretches of time."
For a mage, a superior staff that could dramatically improve both the quality and the number of spells they could cast was something they would give anything for.
In the modern age, high-quality staves were exceedingly rare. A staff's performance varied enormously depending on its materials, the craftsman's skill, and the circumstances of its creation — no two were ever alike, and even among so-called first-rate staff makers, only one in ten produced a usable result.
Above all, staves created by modern techniques were vastly inferior to those that had manifested as Treasure Weapons. The staves held by famous mages were almost all near-one-of-a-kind Treasure Weapons, and the rare mass-produced staves that could rival them traded at staggering prices.
The professors of Zebuldia Magic Academy, to be sure, already possessed famous staves of their own — but with the possibility of crafting a powerful staff lying right before them, it was only natural that they had abandoned reconstruction of the school building and gathered here.
Even Sage, who bore the epithet of "Immortal" and had been active as a mage far longer than his appearance suggested, had never heard of a substitute for the World Tree.
"From what we've confirmed, the staff that was brought in did not go berserk when it was once handled by a mage who was a companion of the Sword Saint. It's possible that lying dormant in the Sword Saint's warehouse for so many years depleted its mana, causing the rampage."
"You mean it was filled by the attacks from Rosemary and the academy's mages…? That logic holds up, to a degree — but —"
"So you're saying Thousand Transformations foresaw all of this and deliberately sent the staff?"
That's absurd…
The professors' eyes had gone completely glassy with the thrill of what they believed to be a once-in-a-century discovery.
Sensing the conversation was spiraling off in a strange direction while everyone stayed silent, Sage hurriedly interjected.
"Wait, wait — regardless of the reasons, what happened is not excusable. The academy was destroyed and the capital was put in danger."
"But… Professor Sage. The Empire has been remarkably silent about it. And besides, Thousand Transformations had only just saved the Emperor's life the other day, not to mention thwarting the Nine-Tailed Shadow Fox's plot at the Martial Emperor Festival. Pursuing the matter now would be tactically disastrous. Besides, that chapter is already closed."
That was true… Sage had investigated on his own as well, and even he — who did not particularly think well of that young man — had to admit his exploits were remarkable.
The sheer volume of accomplishments meant that even if the academy's case succeeded and formal charges were brought, the young man would likely still be forgiven. One of the professors, glancing at Lucia, who stood beside Sage with a sullen expression, scowled and spoke.
"And on top of everything, he's Lucia's brother."
"Her stepbrother, Professor. Besides, I also think — he went too far."
Why was it that every professor was on Thousand Transformations' side while only his own sister sided with Sage?
Judging from what he heard of her daily life, Lucia seemed to have been put through quite a bit of trouble by him as well. Listening to it all, it almost sounded like affection, which was curious.
"Stepbrother or otherwise, it doesn't matter! The point is, there is nothing to be gained and everything to be lost by opposing him. If you're going to spend that time on something, you'd be far better off exploring the new possibilities this substitute offers. If it absorbs mana and grows, then depending on the conditions, there could even be potential for infinite regeneration!"
"A material rivaling the World Tree available in infinite quantities… That would be a discovery for the history books."
They had completely forgotten that a single rampage had left the academy half in ruins. Of course, with Sage and the other professors present, they could probably handle the same situation now — but it was hardly something to be optimistic about.
However, in the current state of affairs, nothing Sage said would get through to them. Half-resigned, he watched the situation unfold — until one of the professors spoke up.
"Then the question is which laboratory will take charge of researching this staff —"
The atmosphere snapped taut. Just judging by its properties alone, this was an extraordinarily fascinating experimental subject. Anyone involved in magical research would covet it desperately.
In principle, the person who had procured the staff should have been put in charge, but these were extraordinary circumstances. Stopping the staff's rampage had required mobilizing every mage in the academy.
Was another long debate about to begin? Just as a sharp pain lanced through Sage's head from the stress, the professor said something unexpected.
"There are various arguments to be made, but Professor Sage's Lucia Roje is Thousand Transformations' sister. Everyone is aware that he created that magic tome for her, and this staff was most likely entrusted to her as well. It would be natural to entrust it to Professor Sage's laboratory — wouldn't you agree?"
At those words, the professors all turned to look at Sage in unison. But not one raised an objection. If anything, they were expressing passive agreement.
What were the grand mages of the imperial capital scheming? No — this was…
Under the weight of their collective gaze, as though it were a physical force, Sage grimaced and spoke.
"…Understood. That said, the creation of this staff was unquestionably made possible by the combined efforts of mages from every laboratory. When new discoveries are made, we will coordinate promptly."
"This is a historic discovery. We are counting on you, Professor Sage."
This was a collar. A muzzle given to Sage — the only professor among them who was not entirely convinced by this situation — to keep him from causing trouble.
Naturally, there was also consideration for Thousand Transformations. After all, there was no question that the young man cared deeply for Lucia.
It seemed this was as far as things would go this time. But Sage would not forgive him — for giving Lucia that absurd magic tome and twisting the direction of her talent.
One of the professors addressed Lucia, who had maintained a sour expression throughout.
"Do pass along our regards. Thousand Transformations' sister."
"Step-sister!"
Clenching her fists, Lucia raised her voice at a professor more than twice her age.