Kant’s hand trembled the moment he faced Theo.
Was it fear?
No.
-It was exhilaration.
He instinctively understood.
“This one is not beneath me.”
Kant had heard all about Theo Ragnar.
Initially, Kant had seen this encounter as an opportunity to gauge the caliber of Ragnar’s rising star. Knowing Theo’s abilities would help Kant decide the future course of the Wandering Knights Union.
But the moment he stood face to face with Theo, all those thoughts vanished.
What remained was a burning sense of rivalry.
His instincts as a swordsman roared within him.
Kant’s thoughts of recovering Cassandra were already long forgotten.
Clang!
The instant their swords clashed, Kant was certain.
“Impressive! Your fundamentals are solid, especially for someone so young. Did you study under Evelyn Nereville?”
“You know Evelyn?”
“Of course.”
A wry smile tugged at Kant’s lips.
“I was the one who set her sword straight when she was wandering aimlessly in her youth.”
“...!”
“Haha, you could say that I’m like your sword master’s master.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed, darkening.
Kant’s joy, on the other hand, was palpable.
“For this wandering knight’s blade to reach the heir of Ragnar... what an honor!”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Their blades collided in rapid succession. Despite their contrasting styles, the similarities in their movements were unmistakable—the way they held their swords, the steps they took, and even the distances they maintained.
Theo could see echoes of Evelyn’s form in Kant’s swordsmanship.
‘I never imagined the King Slayer was Evelyn’s sword master.’
In his previous life, the Wandering Knights Union had allied with Troivan in rebellion against Ragnar, causing severe losses.
Kant, drenched in blood, had swung his sword like a demon. His nightmarish visage was seared into the memories of many.
‘But this time...’
Theo gripped the Drakeblade tighter.
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‘I will win.’
It wasn’t arrogance. It was conviction.
Clang!
The sound of metal rang out as Theo’s inner aura surged. The Drakeblade’s surface sprouted glowing dragon scales, pulsing with golden light.
Crackle!
Electricity arced along the blade as Theo’s strike forced Kant back, his eyes widening in shock.
“Kassandra!”
Theo’s voice echoed. From within the central crypt, Kassandra’s laughter chimed faintly.
「I was waiting for you to call.」
Suddenly, the mana flowing through the cavern thickened, growing oppressive.
<Binding.>
Shing!
Chains of magic burst from the ground, snaking around Kant’s limbs. Though Kant quickly released a surge of aura to shatter the chains, others weren’t so fortunate.
The knights of the Wandering Knights Union, the hallucination-crazed swordsmen of the One Sword Society, and the hidden assassins of the Black Shadow Blade Group were all ensnared.
“What the—magic?! Here?!”
“Damn it! It’s draining my mana!”
<Energy Drain.>
The chains weren’t just restraints—they sapped mana at an alarming rate. It was magic only a sixth-circle mage or higher could hope to cast.
Kant’s expression hardened.
“Was there a mage in your party this whole time? When...?”
He had no way of knowing that Cassandra housed the consciousness of the legendary Sorceress Empress from a distant future.
Theo didn’t bother answering. Instead, he focused all his energy on recalling the techniques he had studied.
‘Black Flame Sun.’
Originally a vision of Ragnar, the technique had been claimed by Troivan’s leader in Theo’s previous life.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The Drakeblade’s core hummed violently as Theo synchronized his energy with the pulse of the dragon’s heart.
[All buffs have been activated.]
[Duration: 6 minutes.]
The ancient relics Theo wore resonated, funneling their power into the Drakeblade.
His mana swelled, and the blade crackled with electric energy, forming a swirling sphere of lightning above him.
The sphere rapidly expanded, filling the cavern’s ceiling.
“It’s the sun! The sun has risen!”
“Is that the leader’s vision recreated with lightning?!”
The ghosts of the crypt gasped in awe, some moved to tears. Memories of the past flooded their minds.
Whenever that blazing sun rose, victory was guaranteed.
Theo clenched his jaw as he felt his mana depleting at a terrifying rate.
The sphere spun faster, drawing in more mana, which only accelerated its rotation.
‘If I’m not careful, it will explode. I need to strike before that happens.’
Mustering every ounce of focus, Theo raised the Drakeblade.
‘Cut.’
“Damn it!”
Kant, sensing the impending attack, dashed forward, knowing the sphere’s power would devastate the cavern.
But before he could intervene—
<First Form – Solar Eclipse.>
The Drakeblade cleaved through the lightning sphere, splitting it cleanly in half.
The cavern plunged into darkness.
The split halves of the sphere exploded, scattering fragments of lightning that struck the ground like meteors.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Screams echoed briefly before being drowned out by the thunderclaps.
When the light faded, all that remained was charred earth and drifting ash.
“W-What... is this...?”
Kant, the sole survivor, stood amidst the devastation.
His right arm was missing, scorched away by the lightning. His sword lay blackened and broken at his feet.
His men—his loyal subordinates—had been obliterated.
“The... sword... what is... it...?”
Even as death loomed, Kant forced himself to speak. He had to know the name of the blade that had defeated him.
“The Celestial Sun.”
“...Celestial... Sun...”
Kant repeated the name, a faint smile forming.
“The eastern legends speak of dragons holding orbs in their mouths, capable of summoning storms and lightning... Truly... no better name... could...”
Shatter.
With that, Kant crumbled into ash.
The ghosts, their awe giving way to critical thought, began discussing the new vision.
“The Celestial Sun... It’s incomplete, though.”
“The energy efficiency is too low.”
“Agreed. It needs refinement.”
“We should help Theo perfect it.”
The ghosts, filled with newfound determination, resolved to make the Celestial Sun Theo’s ultimate legacy.
Theo, noticing their chatter, smirked faintly.
Then, he turned his attention forward.
Someone was approaching through the smoke and ash.
The battle wasn’t over yet.
***
"Hot, isn't it?"
The leader of the Blue Crane Unit entered the crypt, followed closely by his subordinates.
The sweltering heat hit them immediately, the acrid stench of burnt flesh and charred earth stinging their nostrils.
The thunderous sound that had threatened to collapse the cave earlier had drawn them in, expecting chaos—and they weren’t wrong.
“Looks like there’s been quite the skirmish. Weren’t there supposed to be just three or four practical combat swordsmen here? Or has that so-called Chosen already acquired the sword manual?”
Tsk.
The Blue Crane leader clicked his tongue in irritation.
All their meticulous plans—locating a royal with the Sight to help retrieve the manual, luring the crypt's keeper with their double agent, the so-called “Alpha”—had seemingly gone to waste.
Now, it appeared their carefully laid table was at risk of being stolen by someone else entirely.
“If Arct hears about this, he’ll throw a fit.”
He muttered under his breath.
“We need to recover the artifact before Lord Feng arrives.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Understood!”
The Blue Crane Unit members responded in unison, their voices reverberating through the scorched cave.
“And... Bishop Kali, we’ll need your assistance as well.”
“Haha. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
A soft voice chimed in, followed by a figure emerging from the shadows. Bishop Kali, draped in crimson robes that exuded an unsettling aura, stepped forward with a faint smile.
“I’ve been reluctant to watch this holy sanctuary endure further destruction. Allow me to offer my aid.”
With a low chuckle, Kali disappeared as silently as she had arrived, her movements almost ghost-like.
The Blue Crane leader scowled, displeased by her eerie exit.
Sharing the sword manual with her and her ilk was the last thing he wanted.
“Now, all that’s left is to catch them off guard,” the leader muttered, his lips curling into a thin smirk.
They believed the worst was over, likely thinking the assault had ended. The intruders would be letting their guards down.
“Let’s hope the dagger we planted in the heart of their little group is as sharp as we planned.”
His voice dripped with anticipation as he gestured for his unit to advance further into the crypt.
***
“Theo! Are you okay?”
Ray rushed toward Theo, concern etched across her face. His body was still radiating steam, his skin an angry red from the intense heat he had endured.
She instinctively prepared to use her frost attribute to cool him down, hoping to alleviate the strain on his body.
But—
“Ray, hold on a moment.”
“Huh...?”
Ray froze mid-step, blinking in confusion. She followed Theo’s line of sight, only to find him glaring at O’d.
Her brows furrowed.
Why was he directing such an intense gaze toward O’d, the one who had saved them from the clutches of the Troivan encirclement?
Sure, O’d hadn’t been particularly active during the battle and had vanished entirely when Kant and Barosa appeared, but that was understandable for someone who had spent decades merely maintaining the crypt.
O’d was the steadfast keeper of this sacred place and a loyal servant of Ragnar for years—even having ties to Denglong himself.
“When was it, O’d?” Theo’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of an accusation. “When did your loyalty to Ragnar waver?”
Ray gasped audibly, and even Selperd, who had been tending to Arin, snapped his head toward O’d in shock.
O’d’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Stop pretending. This crypt is impossible to locate unless someone leaks its location. You were very adamant about that fact yourself, weren’t you?”
Theo took a measured step forward, his gaze unwavering.
“And yet, here they are. Enemies flooding this sacred place.”
He paused, glancing at the spectral figures hovering silently nearby. The ghosts of the crypt—the unyielding souls who had guarded its secrets for generations—bowed their heads in grim acknowledgment.
Their silent agreement only solidified Theo’s suspicions.
“Not to mention...” Theo’s voice sharpened, his next words cutting through the air like a blade.
“Your swordsmanship. The brief glimpse you showed us—eerily similar to the techniques of the Vanguard Captain of the Crusade, wasn’t it?”
The air in the crypt grew heavy.
O’d’s face hardened, the carefully maintained facade cracking under the weight of Theo’s accusation.
Silence hung in the air.