Chapter – 31…
Peril’s face was swollen and tense, as if it could burst apart at any moment. That was how much he was holding back his anger.
His fists trembled violently, and in response to his mana, everything around him began to vibrate slowly.
“You bastard!”
“P-please, just listen. If you hear what your daughter says…!”
“Dad! This guy…he’s doing all sorts of things… waaah!”
Alonea… how shocking.
That’s where it ended.
Despite his indignation, Peril eventually drew his sword.
Whoosh.
The sword flew at an incredible speed and reached my throat.
‘Exactly. This is what it takes to be a Swordmaster.’
A Swordmaster — a title for the ultimate swordsmen of a nation.
Peril was the only Swordmaster ever produced in this eastern region.
“What did you do to my daughter?”
I had no choice but to take a serious stance here.
“I only taught her alchemy because she asked me to.”
“Is that true?”
“Calm down and ask her yourself. It seems she only trained her swordsmanship and neglected mental discipline?”
“…You…”
Peril briefly scolded the crying Alonea, whispering in her ear. Soon, his fighting spirit subsided. Now he fully understood the situation.
“An alchemist, huh.”
“Apologize first.”
“Alright, I’m sorry. It seems my stubborn daughter has embarrassed me in my old age.”
He sheathed his sword and bowed deeply. It felt strange — a famous man like Peril, who had protected the kingdom as a Swordmaster for decades, bowing to me was something I could not get used to.
“It’s all because I had a daughter so late in life. Ah… truly sorry.”
“Then may I speak with your daughter?”
“Ah… about that…”
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and said,
“That’s not possible.”
“You won’t let me talk to her?”
“Yes. I could buy her a house or personally teach her swordsmanship, but letting Alonea talk to you? That’s impossible.”
Peril was known for never taking disciples except for his deceased son. Everyone had high hopes for his daughter Alonea, born late in his life.
Yet, even though he might personally teach her swordsmanship, talking to her was forbidden. I frowned, then remembered one thing.
‘Her father strongly opposed it.’
It was a famous story — the Bomb Artisan of the Kingdom, Alonea, only developed her talent despite her father Peril’s opposition.
“Are you afraid she’ll be seduced by alchemy?”
“You know me well.”
Peril looked down at Alonea with affection.
“My daughter will follow in my footsteps and become the next Swordmaster of the Eastern Region. But to use this supreme talent on alchemy… that’s absurd.”
“You mean… for alchemy?”
“I’m not denying alchemy’s usefulness. But not all usefulness is equal. Swordsmanship comes first.”
I felt a sense of déjà vu from his words. In war, swords and bows come first — there are always people who say that.
But that is wrong. That kind of thinking only applies in times of peace.
“…Don’t underestimate alchemy.”
Having narrowly survived Alonea’s bombs in prophetic dreams countless times, I glared at Peril.
He gave me a pitying smile.
“If that’s rude, I apologize. But that is the truth of the battlefield. You should be glad you learned it early.”
“Do you know how strong modernized bombs are?”
“I do. But for mana users, it’s like a mere kitchen fire. Don’t you know? Once you coat your body with mana, bombs are nothing.”
I sighed, unable to hold back.
“Then would you like to test that?”
At my bold words, Peril’s eyebrows twitched. Even Alonea stopped crying in surprise.
“What?”
“Let’s make a bet. If you can overcome all the bomb traps I set within five minutes and subdue me, I will accept any punishment.”
“And if you win?”
“Then allow me to speak with your daughter about alchemy.”
“You’re bold. But I have no reason to agree. I am too busy to indulge in your bet…”
“How about this?”
I drew out my Key Sword.
Peril leaned close to it, swallowing hard.
“What’s the hardness of this sword?”
“If I lose, I’ll give it to you.”
“Really? Even so…”
“Do you think a sword would be of use to an alchemist? To me, it’s nothing more than a precious trinket.”
“Hah.”
Peril glanced around, continuing to examine the Key Sword, and whispered,
“Good. Then we shall do it somewhere with no one around. I will provide the location, not at the inn.”
The bet was set.
Peril glanced at the sword again and returned, while Rich in my backpack finally exploded in frustration.
[You’re giving that away? Are you stupid!]
“You only give it if you lose. Don’t worry.”
[Are you an idiot? A Swordmaster? Do you think such a guy would be fazed by bombs?]
“You’re also from the old school.”
I laughed as I recalled the bomb formulas from ‘clear memories’ of Alonea.
“Don’t worry. I’ll win no matter what.”
Peril could not understand.
‘Ground collapse?’
That’s a method used in construction, isn’t it? Yet the bombs the boy set destroyed the bedrock, sending Peril deep underground.
The ground within several dozen meters around his footing collapsed all at once. Without wings, one cannot fly.
‘And…’
The boy seemed to see through him. As Peril, coated in mana, tried to push off the ground,
Plop.
The floor was strange. It was a viscous black swamp — a substance Peril knew well. It was a flammable gel used for torches.
Soon, with a small sound, the black swamp ignited. Over it fell small particles from above the now-collapsed ground, followed by a massive lid.
“A dust explosion.”
Still, Peril remained calm.
“Well-prepared, but just child’s play.”
A tremendous explosion shook the forest. Yet Peril emerged unharmed, not a thread of clothing burned. He drew his sword and called to Allen in the distance.
“You said five minutes, right? About four left?”
Allen did not answer.
Peril smirked. This time, he was determined to break through. He secured the ground firmly and shot toward Allen like a projectile.
Giant columns of fire shot up, forming a wall.
“No way.”
Peril’s sword cut through them, splitting two columns at once. He aimed at Allen’s phantom to strike, but
“Cooling bombs… I see.”
Allen had already retreated far back. Peril admired the strategy.
‘Cooling bombs to lower air temperature, heating the air in front to refract light. Tactical genius.’
But the next attacks made him frown. Fecal bombs flew, which he blocked with a sword gust. He clicked his tongue.
“After praising him…”
A bomb suddenly fell on his head. Peril sensed it with his intuition and dodged.
“Where… could it be? A high-angle catapult? With only one bomb, causing a secondary explosion?”
Peril’s feeling grew strange. Each attack was minor, but he hadn’t reached Allen in over two minutes.
‘I can’t afford to be fooled as an adult.’
He crawled low, preparing to strike seriously, but
“Ugh?”
He staggered. His body, a Swordmaster’s, quickly relayed the answer: all extremities were slightly paralyzed.
“How… could I, a Swordmaster…?”
The answer came from Allen, who had remained silent in the distance.
“Swordmasters absorb and use the natural mana around them, right?”
“You mean he spread paralysis poison in the air?”
“Yes.”
“How could I not notice it?”
“It was diffused very lightly. Unlike directly spreading or releasing poison gas, it was very subtle and reached far quickly.”
Now Peril understood. All the previous bombs had a purpose.
‘Flash bombs to blind, fecal bombs to mask smell, high-angle bombs to disperse paralysis poison in the air, falling bombs to mislead trajectory, and rising fire pillars to influence upward currents… It all makes sense.’
Peril truly admired it. The boy’s alchemy had usefulness. Even if minor, it was remarkable compared to conventional alchemy, which couldn’t intervene in Swordmaster duels.
Swordmasters with alchemical support would have a distinct advantage.
‘But I must still win this bet.’
Peril identified the boy’s mistake. He had never experienced a true Swordmaster’s presence.
“Too bad. Only three minutes left.”
With a single breath, all the paralysis poison left Peril’s body. He moved at unbelievable speed, swinging his sword at Allen.
“It’s over.”
“Is it?”
Allen threw a small bomb at Peril, emitting a strange blue light. It exploded and created a blue gust.
“Futile…”
Peril instinctively stepped back. When the explosion touched his blade, he was speechless.
“Is this… real…?”
“It’s composed of mana particles, claw-shaped ones specifically. It literally erodes mana.”
“Crude. But…”
The eroded portion quickly regenerated. Yet Peril felt a chilling sense of unease.
“An early research prototype, I see.”
“Yes. Its power, range, and mass production haven’t been optimized.”
“If this were mass-produced in an improved form…”
“Imagine, right? Do you still think alchemy is inferior to swordsmanship?”
Peril pondered deeply for a moment.
“This is child’s play for now, but it’s feasible. Yet I also know alchemy well. You’re remarkable, not the alchemy itself.”
“And I recognize that your remarkable daughter Alonea deserves a chance.”
Peril hesitated. Allen smiled.
“Sir Peril.”
“Yes?”
“While you were thinking, one minute remains. Did you forget about our bet?”
“Ah…!”
He drew his sword, but Allen had gained the upper hand once again by reminding him of the bet.
Thunk.
Before him floated the previously thrown ‘mana-eroding bomb.’
Peril had experienced its effect, yet chose to press on.
He charged through the blue gust, his elderly frame flying toward Allen.
“Just a direct hit, so the damage is reduced, I see.”
But something strange happened. Seeing Allen holding a sword, his posture was perfect — as if he had wielded a sword his entire life.
“Hmm?”
Allen’s youthful expression vanished, replaced by a grim, weathered aura that spread around him.
Ka-aaang!
And an astonishing thing occurred.
The defeated Swordmaster of the Eastern Region, who could allegedly fight entire armies alone — Peril —
Was blocked.
By a mere sixteen-year-old boy.
Allen muttered some unknown words, his eyes glowing red.
“…Sal-up Sword, Maklatchua.”
