Chapter 64: Secret of the Sword [1]

Ser Damian was the first to draw his weapon.

The sharp, metallic ring of steel sliding out of its leather sheath echoed through the vast training hall.

Without a moment of hesitation, he stepped forward, his eyes burning with fierce determination.

He had no intention of disobeying his lord’s command.

Having just been granted the miraculous title of First Dragonknight and a second chance at life for both himself and his little sister, Damian knew his purpose clearly.

He needed to be a blade, and a true blade must follow the absolute will of its wielder without hesitation or doubt.

"Good," Craig noted, seeing the raw zeal and loyalty shining in Damian’s eyes.

The young Viscount nodded approvingly with a subtle smile.

Seeing the newcomer’s immediate readiness, Ser Hughway followed suit.

The veteran knight drew his own longsword with a practiced, fluid motion, stepping into the ring alongside the younger warrior.

Damian wasted no time.

Bending his knees, he exploded forward off the polished stone floor. His movement was a blur, covering the massive distance between them within fractions of a second.

In the blink of an eye, he vanished from Craig’s front and spawned directly behind his liege’s back.

With ruthless precision, Damian unleashed a heavy horizontal slash aimed at Craig’s upper body.

Clang!

To Damian’s utter astonishment, Craig blocked the ambush with unbelievable ease.

Without even turning his full body, Craig positioned his arming sword at a perfect angle, catching Damian’s edge.

With a simple, calculated twist of his wrist, Craig redirected the impact force and countered instantly, stepping into Damian’s guard and unleashing a thrust that forced the First Dragonknight to retreat several paces.

Damian felt a cold shock ripple through his chest.

’How?’ he thought, quickly recollecting his composure and resetting his stance.

He surged forward once more, swinging his blade in a rapid barrage of strikes.

Although Damian purposely refrained from coating his weapon with active mana, his raw physical swings still carried immense, weight-shattering momentum.

It was common knowledge across the Western Continent that a vast, almost unbridgeable gulf separated every class within the realm of Swordsmanship.

A certified Sword Runner was physically ten times stronger, faster, and more durable than a mere Sword Apprentice who had not yet shattered their mortal limits.

So why was Craig—who was still officially registered as a Sword Apprentice—deflecting his heavy strikes as if they were nothing more than light twigs?

Damian had no way of knowing that Craig possessed the legendary Divine Draconic Physique.

Thanks to that divine modification, Craig’s baseline physical capabilities as a Sword Apprentice were already equivalent to a fully awakened, physical Sword Runner.

In terms of raw, unaugmented bodily strength, they were completely even.

That, of course, was without the application of high-tier mana circulation and specialized sword arts.

Watching the rapid exchange from a few paces away, Ser Hughway decided to test his young liege as well.

The veteran Initial-stage Sword Master stepped forward.

The instant Ser Hughway accelerated, Craig’s golden eyes widened in genuine shock.

The ambient air inside the hall visibly rippled.

Whoosh!

Craig’s instincts flared violently as he threw his upper body backward, the freezing edge of Ser Hughway’s longsword missing his nose by a hair’s breadth.

The veteran knight moved at a speed that completely defied normal perception, spawning before Craig in less than a heartbeat and bringing his heavy longsword down in a devastating vertical chop.

Controlling his footwork with absolute precision, Craig twisted his hips and leaped backward, barely evading the downward strike.

However, Damian wasted no time capitalizing on the opening.

Ambushing Craig from his blind spot while the young Viscount was fully occupied with Ser Hughway’s assault, Damian lunged with a lightning-fast thrust.

Yet, Craig’s heightened senses—amplified by the rhythm of his newly awakened Dragon’s Heart—saw through the subtle shift in the air and the fluctuating mana around Damian’s body.

Craig spun on his heel, letting Damian’s blade scrape harmlessly against the empty air, and leaped three paces backward, establishing a safe distance from both knights.

Standing at the edge of the dueling circle, Craig exhaled a warm breath, his crimson hair damp with sweat.

A broad, thrill-seeking smile broke across his face.

"This is fun," Craig chuckled softly.

"Yes, it truly is," Ser Hughway agreed, lowering his weapon slightly and nodding with deep, genuine respect. "To think a Sword Apprentice can stand his ground while facing a Sword Runner and a Sword Master simultaneously... even if we are strictly holding back our mana, our refined sword arts, and our awakened talents."

Ser Hughway looked at Craig with intense intrigue. "Just our raw physical strength alone should have been more than enough to overwhelm any Apprentice in a single exchange."

"I agree," Craig sighed playfully, rolling his shoulder as he wiped his brow. "Well... just consider your liege to be a little bit different from the norm." He offered the two men a sharp, confident wink.

"Besides, I am already at the Middle-stage of the Sword Apprentice class, having thoroughly known my limits."

With a smooth, fluid motion, Craig slid his arming sword back into its sheath with a crisp click.

Ser Hughway frowned slightly, looking at the sheathed weapon. "Are you finished with the sparring session, My Lord?"

"Yeah," Craig nodded, letting his hands rest casually on his belt. "I didn’t actually call you two here late at night just to have a simple physical warm-up."

Craig’s expression turned serious, his tone shifting into one of absolute gravity. "I called you two here for a very special reason... I hope the main doors are securely locked?"

Both Ser Hughway and Ser Damian instinctively glanced back toward the heavy, iron-reinforced double doors of the training hall.

Confirming the heavy deadbolts were firmly in place, Ser Hughway turned back and nodded.

"The hall is completely sealed, My Lord. Not a single soul can enter or listen in."

"Very good," Craig nodded approvingly. He took a few steps closer to the two warriors, his dark golden eyes locking onto them.

"Then I want to ask you both a serious question... How much do you truly know about the structure of the Swordsmanship realm?"

Craig pivoted his gaze directly toward the black-haired young man. "I am asking you first, Damian."

"Uhmm..." Damian scratched his messy black hair, looking a bit sheepish under the Viscount’s intense gaze.

"To be entirely honest, My Lord... I’ve lived the rough, chaotic life of a mercenary ever since I first awakened five years ago. I don’t know much about high theory. I simply swung my blade every day until I instinctively ascended into a Sword Runner."

"Is that so?" Craig laughed softly, a bright glint in his eyes. "That only confirms how great your natural innate talent truly is, to blindly forge a path to the Ranker level without guidance."

Craig then turned his attention to the older, more experienced warrior.

"Then what about you, Hughway?"

Ser Hughway, who had already sheathed his longsword, folded his heavy arms across his chest.

Drawing upon his decades of formal knightly education, he spoke clearly. "There are ten recognized classes in the grand realm of Swordsmanship, starting from Sword Apprentice all the way to Sword Supreme.

Furthermore, it is universally taught that each class contains three sub-stages—Initial, Middle, and Peak—which a Sword Expert must progress through before they can attempt to ascend to the next class."

"Correct," Craig nodded calmly. "That is the standard surface knowledge taught in every noble academy across the Western Continent. But... what do you actually know about those three sub-stages?"

Craig paused, letting his words hang in the quiet air before dropping a revelation that made the room grow deathly quiet.

"Would you be surprised if I told you that every single stage within a class possesses a specific conceptual Title... and that every single ascension phase requires a specific, universal Ritual to achieve absolute perfection?"

Thump.

Ser Hughway’s heart skipped a sharp beat. His eyes widened in absolute shock as he stared at the young Viscount. "That... that is impossible, My Lord! How could such structured, absolute principles exist without the grand academies or the high houses knowing?"

Yet, Craig remained completely calm, his posture relaxed and unshakeable.

He stood firmly by his words.

Across the vast history of the world, every true Sword Expert had instinctively navigated through these stages and rituals without ever realizing the exact names or spiritual laws governing their progression.

They walked the path in darkness, stumbling into breakthroughs by pure chance or raw talent.

Craig stepped right into the center of the two men, his golden eyes glowing with ancient, unquestionable authority.

"This is the real reason I called you two here tonight," Craig stated, his voice dropping into a low, potent whisper that resonated directly in their minds.

"What I am about to reveal to you right now regarding the true secrets of the swordsmanship realm... must never be heard by another living being on this continent."