The further south you go, the hotter the weather becomes.
Because of this environment, people’s faces are often stained with irritation, and their heightened nerves are expressed through raised voices as a daily occurrence.
That, in turn, spreads the annoyance, and small arguments flare up into gang fights like wildfire.
But it gets even worse if you go all the way down to the equator.
Fistfights are relatively mild—something done by those who live in the cooler parts of the south and are better off.
Closer to the equator, the sunlight scorches more intensely, and the evaporated steam from rivers and foliage clings to the skin.
Body temperature rises, the body feels heavy, and clothes are always soaked.
In this place, it’s customary to stab someone just for brushing shoulders.
The residents, whose discomfort levels have reached their peak, are so far gone they view murder from fights as socially acceptable.
In the end, a culture of death and bloodshed flourished through the arena system.
Coulo grew up in such a place.
"The equator is famous for being a region where new sword styles constantly emerge. What choice do you have when it’s a matter of survival? Those who have nothing can’t afford to go somewhere to learn refined techniques. The only option is to suffer alone and experiment with new methods. If you fail, you die."
Coulo said this in a bitter tone, and the Mistress tilted her head.
"Then... people there practice aura cultivation on their own too?"
"That’s right. I’ve seen plenty who became disabled from making the wrong move while doing so."
The Mistress asked, still looking somewhat skeptical.
"Given how harsh the conditions are, you’d think there’d be plenty of strong warriors coming out of there, but there aren’t many famous swordsmen from the equator, are there?"
Coulo chuckled faintly.
It felt strange to be asked questions by a woman who always seemed to know everything.
"The world’s a big place, so of course. How could swordsmanship developed over a few years ever surpass the vision of noble houses refined over centuries?"
"But you were the exception?"
"Exactly. That’s why this old man is called that."
The title "Sword King of the South" holds a deeper meaning.
Sword styles from prestigious houses with hundreds of years of history were defeated by one developed in just ten years.
That’s why people across the region call Coulo the Sword King.
"Honestly, there’s no real secret to it. I just happened to have a lucky realization in a moment when I thought I’d die."
That was when he was younger.
He had a small frame and a cautious, perhaps cowardly nature.
He dodged or deflected attacks, or used them to his advantage to make up for his physical shortcomings and avoid fear.
"If you rely on luck forever, eventually you’ll get your head chopped off. I’ve seen countless people die that way, and I too faced such a moment."
The opponent he met at the time was overwhelming.
No matter how he tried to shake him off, the opponent stuck close.
Even trying to deflect a strike ended up with a slash.
He couldn’t even block, let alone use the opponent’s strength against him.
"Like all cowardly people, I was the same. There came a moment when I thought, ‘There’s no way I can dodge this. No matter what I do, I’ll die,’ and I froze like a mouse before a cat."
It was like rigor mortis came early.
"Most swordsmen who use aura instinctively harden their bodies with steel aura at such times. A firm body gives better efficiency, so maybe it’s a subconscious response. But I stepped forward instead. Not even quickly—just one heavy step forward."
"Why?"
"Just thought, ‘I’m going to die anyway, so what’s the point in running from fear?’ and I stepped ahead. Then something strange happened."
The hardened aura softened a bit.
When his opponent’s aura-covered strike hit his sword, it even gave off an elastic feel.
As the enemy’s powerful force surged through his body, he had a thought.
"When I blocked the blow, a bunch of thoughts ran through my head. If I just block, my back’ll snap. If I try to deflect it with relaxed muscles, I’ll go flying into the wall and crack my skull. That leaves one option: return the force. Those were the split-second thoughts flashing through my head."
The Mistress looked intrigued.
Her gaze said she wanted to know how it turned out.
"Well, I decided to return his power, spun halfway around like a spring, and slashed his chest with my blade. Naturally—an attack infused with true intent shouldn’t harm its wielder. That’s how the Force Rebound Blade technique was born."
It was a realization gained through coincidence, but it was worth refining.
From that day, Coulo continued to improve.
"So then, just how far has Erucel progressed?"
The Mistress asked, and Coulo carefully observed Erucel’s movements.
The nature of the aura wasn’t uniform—it seemed stuck in a phase he himself had once passed through.
Damn, of all things, he’s landed on the form I once doubted—the one I thought might be a failure.
To think rapid growth would come with this kind of side effect.
It was terrible timing for an important sparring match.
"Hmm… judging by age, I’d say around when I hit my thirties."
But that alone was impressive.
"That’s about when you first started making a name for yourself."
Unlike Coulo, who had to fail and waste years searching for the ideal training method, Erucel had been spared all that.
Coulo had poured every exercise he would’ve done if he could redo the past straight into Erucel.
"...But did you really become famous using that hideous technique?"
"N-no, of course not. When I reached that stage, I was training alone in the mountains."
Too embarrassed to show anyone else.
***
Erucel stared blankly at the aura clinging to his sword.
It wasn’t just because he could use the Aura Blade.
Others like Riamon had also awakened to it through training, and Erucel himself had fulfilled the conditions long ago but hadn’t awakened it until now.
What stunned him was...
"Wh-what the heck is this?"
Instead of gaining sharpness and cutting power that could slice through anything, the aura looked like squishy jelly coating his blade.
"What the hell is that disgusting aura?"
"That’s what I’d like to ask you."
When the aura became elastic, Coulo, as a master, had shown something similar before, so Erucel quickly calmed down.
It was just shocking to have learned it by accident.
But this property was something Coulo had never even mentioned.
‘The aura on the sword is all wobbly—ugh, gross.’
Still, who knows?
There might be power hidden in it he didn’t understand yet.
Erucel swung the jiggly Aura Blade.
Arbal stepped in with a frown and blocked it.
Then, the aura on Erucel’s sword tip detached and slapped Arbal’s face with a wet smacking sound.
"Huh?"
Naturally, it didn’t do any real damage.
It only seemed to irritate Arbal more.
"What an incredibly unpleasant texture."
"Y-yeah, I thought so too. But it disappears quickly, so it should be fine now, hahaha."
Aura that detaches usually dissipates quickly.
But Arbal’s face said otherwise.
The vein bulging from his forehead looked like he might kill someone any second.
"This is truly infuriating. I’ve sweat and bled training just to stand here, and you show up with some childish prank."
Arbal took his stance and swung his Aura Blade with all his strength.
The long bastard sword unleashed a flurry of strikes.
Each hit knocked off the jiggly aura clinging to Erucel’s sword, making squishy sounds.
Erucel’s expression darkened.
‘Ugh, all the aura I finally emitted is being wasted. Isn’t this just a loss for me?’
But then, Erucel noticed something strange.
The jelly-like aura, which seemed like it would disappear, maintained its mass as if that was natural from the start.
‘Wait. Something’s weird here. Okay, the quantity’s staying the same, but the texture...’
He got distracted for a moment.
Arbal seized the chance and slashed diagonally with force, putting his weight into it.
Erucel tried to block, but his stance was off.
Clang!
The heavy blow almost knocked the sword from his hands.
But strangely, the jelly aura that flew off from Arbal’s strike solidified like rock and scraped across Arbal’s face.
“Ugh!”
Thin cuts formed—five shallow lines on Arbal’s skin.
Then Erucel understood.
“Th-this is...!”
The Force Rebound Blade is originally based on redirecting the opponent’s strength.
The jelly aura must have absorbed Arbal’s aura and grown stronger.
As proof, Arbal’s Aura Blade was thinner than before.
‘So that’s it. This is a less advanced form compared to the old man’s finished aura. The sword can’t generate elastic recoil yet, but it can absorb.’
Arbal seemed to notice something and stepped back, speaking.
"I don’t know what that is, but I can tell it has power."
He lunged and crossed swords again.
He was clearly trying to overpower Erucel and push him out of bounds.
Erucel lowered his center of gravity and stood his ground, focusing fully on the jelly aura.
"Seems like it hardens again when it reaches its limit."
With every step Arbal took forward, Erucel began to be pushed back.
"Ugh!"
Erucel braced his legs with all his might and glanced at Arbal’s sword.
Judging by the visibly reduced aura, he must be allocating it with minimal efficiency and channeling the rest into raw physical power.
‘As I thought, this man must’ve realized that his aura is being absorbed. If that’s the case…!’
Erucel poured even more aura into his sword with all his strength.
The aura at the point of contact with Arbal’s blade hardened, and eventually, the swords stuck together.
‘Got it. Now I’ll concentrate the rest of my strength into my body.’
As Erucel, who had been steadily pushed back, suddenly stood firm, Arbal’s face turned surprised.
“Th-this bastard...”
Arbal’s clothes swelled as his muscles bulged.
Despite the intense clash of strength, Erucel didn’t budge at all.
Arbal tried shifting the direction of force to find an opening, but Erucel countered each time by readjusting his stance.
The flow of the sequence was remarkably natural.
‘These movements I’m doing… they’ve become second nature through habit.’
The Force Rebound Blade also includes techniques that push back, not just absorb force.
Coulo’s teachings had been crafted for exactly that purpose.
Combined with reactive strength, Erucel’s movements not only blocked Arbal—they began to push him back.
He put strength into his shoulders.
The opponent responded by repositioning to intercept the force’s direction.
Arbal quickly tried regripping the sword handle.
But the two blades, stuck together, showed no signs of coming apart.
Worse, the blade began moving not as Arbal intended, but in the direction Erucel willed.
The control was clearly in Erucel’s hands.
‘I can tell he’s strong… but not as strong as me. Yet he’s compensating for that through movement.’
If Arbal pushed more aura into his sword, the hardening would only worsen.
He even considered letting go of his blade altogether.
‘No, I can’t beat him barehanded. I can't land a solid blow...My only chances are slashing or overpowering him out of bounds.’
Arbal decided to go through the process first.
‘A power struggle is inevitable. If I want to take his sword or force him out, this must be done.’
He felt Erucel’s force and realized it was his maximum output.
“Your strength and aura have hit their limit. I’ve still got room left.”
He sneered, and Erucel grinned confidently.
“Haha, go ahead and try.”
Arbal released a near-explosive burst of power and pushed forward.
‘See? He’s not moving.’
But the advance didn’t last long.
His posture twisted off course, and his balance shifted.
“Huh?”
He quickly stepped to avoid falling, but couldn’t stop himself from sliding backward.
“What’s wrong? Is it so surprising that brute force isn’t working?”
Arbal gritted his teeth and charged again.
Only then did he realize, from Erucel’s footwork, what had gone wrong.
‘This guy… he’s perfectly dispersing my force.’
It was bizarre.
Deflecting power is a common technique, but it always has limits.
Yet this opponent, possibly due to his unusual aura, looked capable of even redirecting a flood.
‘I thought his stance seemed unfamiliar—was it designed for this...?’
He stepped on Erucel’s foot, but, as expected, the strange aura deflected it away.
That left only joint locks as an option.
Arbal took the risk of letting go of his sword and grabbed Erucel’s wrist.
In that moment, he felt something so hard, he couldn’t tell if it was human flesh or steel.
‘Is this really a human joint?’
The spot should have bent easily for mobility, but it didn’t even twitch.
As he looked up in confusion, Erucel answered.
"Sir Coulo once said, if you can handle joint locks, then you’ll have no weaknesses. That’s why I was put through terrifying training."
"Y-you mean that can be overcome with training?"
Erucel nodded, his face pained.
"It’s possible. Since he knew how to break and regenerate cartilage, he told me to let my body be destroyed hundreds of times. This is the result of repeatedly breaking and fixing myself."
With that, Erucel swung his sword.
Arbal wrapped himself in steel aura, but Erucel’s bastard sword, still stuck to his, struck his temple.
Arbal thought to himself:
...Was Coulo of the South really his master?
He’d heard of Coulo’s unusual sword techniques, but had never seen them since he never took disciples.
As his consciousness faded, Arbal looked up at Erucel and spoke.
"It’s not Tenest’s blade… but it’s not half bad."
Erucel waved his jiggly Aura Blade.
“This… this thing, you mean?”
Arbal slightly regretted his words before finally passing out.
***
Erucel came walking over.
The fool had a goofy smile on his face like he wanted to be praised.
"I won. I beat Arbal!"
Arbal ranked third in all of Valient’s hierarchy.
And that guy lost to someone swinging around a floppy sword.
Honestly, I didn’t even know such a thing existed.
That’s probably one of those censored—ahem.
“Erucel.”
“What? Are you finally going to acknowledge me?”
“Don’t ever show that thing in public again.”
Only then did he realize and glance up at the audience.
From women blushing to a middle-aged lady smirking shamelessly, and men awkwardly clearing their throats while looking anywhere but directly.
A whole spectrum of reactions.
“Ugh… so it did look that bad, huh.”
Embarrassed, Erucel covered his face and disappeared into a corner.
The awkward atmosphere lingered for several minutes.
The event organizers, finally snapping back to their senses, quickly shifted the focus to distract from the disgrace Erucel brought to the sacred Aizen Arena.
And so, the next match began.
This time, it was Aslay’s turn.
