Ak Jaryu.

He had been the son of an ordinary butcher.

As a child, he reeked of blood; the neighborhood boys shunned him. His father taught him the sword.

All his father taught was how to cut animal flesh cleanly, yet from that Ak Jaryu grasped the subtleties of the blade on his own.

From some day on, the neighborhood boys no longer bullied him.

Before he knew it, with a single sword he had become the object of their envy.

Ak Jaryu left home along that path and stepped into the rivers and lakes.

“I hear the Young Lord of the Namgoong Clan brought down a Black Path ringleader!”

“Goodness, are we finally seeing daylight? Ah, thank heavens, thank heavens!”

The Heavenly Dragon Sword Emperor, Namgoong Mucheon.

Abbot Beopgong.

Mount Hua Sect Leader No Un.

Taeul Jinin, the Invincible Gentleman Sword.

As the names of outstanding martial men began to be spoken one by one, Ak Jaryu thought he wanted to stand shoulder to shoulder with them.

But he had no proper master, and so his swordsmanship did not easily grow.

By day he made charcoal and sold it for money; all hours not spent sleeping or eating he poured into training.

He saved up and bought “good” swords from the smithy, but every last one soon snapped.

Later he learned that the blades he had bought were substandard pieces rejected from batches the smithy had been supplying to a military office.

When he protested, the smith threatened never to sell Ak Jaryu a sword again—and to have other forges refuse him as well—so he had to back down.

To that man, a single ray of light came.

Slash— Slaaash—!

“Hah... huff...”

“A fine sword.”

“...Who are you?”

“Solid fundamentals, and an understanding of the blade—that is the basis of swordsmanship. But for want of a good teacher, you never fully bloomed. I can feel the frustration in your sword. It is regrettable.”

“...You know the sword?”

That was his first meeting with the Blood Demon.

The Blood Demon taught Ak Jaryu martial arts.

He taught him how to tell a good blade from bad, and how to deal with injustice.

Though they looked of similar age, Ak Jaryu regarded him as a master, and thought of him as a benefactor.

One day the Blood Demon held out a secret manual before him.

“If you grasp this, you can place the world beneath your feet.”

“...The world? Truly?”

“I guarantee the world will chant your name.”

“...!”

“However—once you open this, you cannot turn back.”

In exchange for the manual, Ak Jaryu entered into what was called a bond of blood-subjection.

Since it meant mutual inability to kill, he thought he would lose nothing.

It did not take long to realize that it was a shackle gripping his ankle.

“Why should I do as you say? I did not take up the sword to become some assassin.”

“Do you still not understand? You may not be able to kill me—but ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) I can kill you.”

“Are you... threatening me?”

“Who placed your name above the world? Without me you would still be in the forest chopping wood.”

“...!”

Equal terms did not mean fairness.

Ak Jaryu could not kill the Blood Demon—but the Blood Demon had very many ways to kill him.

Thus he became the Blood-Slaughter Demon.

****

“I will not claim this fight is my choice.”

He, too, had been driven here, manipulated by the Blood Demon.

“Only—when I stepped into this gorge, I steeled myself for death.”

The Blood Demon had discarded him.

The Blood Demon had crossed blades with the Shadowless Demon God before.

So he would have known—

That the Blood-Slaughter Demon was no match for the Shadowless Demon God.

To order such a man to bring back the Shadowless Demon God’s head was to say: go and die.

You’ve served your use; now I’ll take your life.

“I am Ak Jaryu.”

Ak Jaryu raised his blades and took the formal guard.

“I was a butcher’s son who learned the sword, and though I lived in the dark, I wished to live as a martial man. Remember this. The one who fights you here is not the Blood-Slaughter Demon, but Ak Jaryu.”

A dark-crimson aura rose from his body.

Seolhwa gently closed her eyes.

Ak Jaryu.

The Blood-Slaughter Demon.

A Blood Lord.

Which name suited him?

Which was the real him?

She could not answer.

In her previous life, the man she saw had been a Blood Lord, nearer to the Blood-Slaughter Demon.

Only—at this very moment, he was Ak Jaryu.

And so this was respect for Ak Jaryu.

Zzzztzzztzzzt...

“!”

Ak Jaryu’s eyes wavered again.

From the Shadowless Demon God did not rise the former black energy, but a blazing red aura.

As if standing within a pit of roaring flame, white light flashed around her.

What...!

What was this aura?

How could a human possess inner power of two natures?

No—more than that, this aura...

The Namgoong... Clan...?

He had once seen Namgoong Mucheon unleash his arts.

The red inner power spreading before his eyes now felt like what he had seen then.

As if facing a vast sky.

No—something even more destructive added to it.

Zzzt-zzzt—!

Seolhwa took her guard.

For the first time in a very long time, she let her own inner power surge without restraint.

The power of her House she had forgotten under the Blood Demon’s hand.

The Namgoong Clan Ascending Sword Technique.

Lone Soul One Sword.

Fwooooooooo—

Seolhwa’s blade began to move, tracing a graceful sword-path.

It moved as if honoring a lone spirit drifting across a boundless sky.

“...”

A crimson sky unfurled before Ak Jaryu’s eyes.

Staring blankly at that sight, his features suddenly filled with resolve.

Ak Jaryu’s sword began to move.

The very first sword canon Ak Jaryu had created with his own hand since taking up the blade—

Surging Calyx Sword Canon.

Though its forms and shapes were lacking, the Surging Calyx Sword Canon held Ak Jaryu’s aspiration.

His surname Ak, “calyx.”

A sword canon born of his toil in days past, carrying the heart that wished to rise of his own power.

He had never once used it; there was no one in the world to inherit his canon.

Born here—and destined to vanish here—this sword would be given his all as he set it forth.

I can feel the soul in Ak Jaryu’s sword.

The sword’s keening was audible.

Its lines were simple, its gaps many—and yet what blade could embody him so perfectly?

My sword is for you.

High. Cold. Azure. Dew.

Valiant. Endure. Aspiration.

Kwagwagwagwagwa—

The sword canons they unfolded—and the traces those canons carved—twined, tangled, and crashed together.

Kagagagagang—! 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

The bite of edge on edge was as sharp and keen as if two swords were pressed together and rasped.

Ak Jaryu strung his clumsy canon along like a child writing for the first time on a white sheet.

But because it was a blade wielded by a master of the Flowering Realm, it was by no means weak.

Dark-crimson energy surged, advanced, receded—again and again.

Seolhwa’s blade did not have many forms, yet she stolidly received the sword he was pouring out.

Kwooooom—!

By the time Seolhwa began to unfold the final form of her canon, Ak Jaryu’s sword had already turned twice and had nothing left to show.

Form Eight: Gaze of the Sword.

Thud—

“!”

In that instant, Ak Jaryu felt as if the Shadowless Demon God had become the sky itself.

As if that towering being looked down on him from a height immeasurable.

And he, in turn, looked up to that Shadowless Demon God—an overwhelming sense of defeat.

A faint smile tugged at Ak Jaryu’s lips.

In the end, the monster is always someone else.

What use is it to be called one of the Ten Great Masters?

He could not even stand as an opponent to one whose name had not made that list.

No—in the end, because he had not used the Blood Arts, he was neither a Ten Great Master nor anything else.

Was the Blood Demon right?

Was it truly all thanks to him that the world knew his name?

Ah, how pathetic.

Kwoaaaaaaaa—

Red aura crashed over him.

Ak Jaryu lowered the hand that held his blades and yielded his body to that power.

Rrrrrumble...!

The mingled auras burst, shaking the gorge; the dust that filled it settled slowly, ever so slowly.

Crunch.

Seolhwa stepped toward the fallen cliffside debris.

Ak Jaryu lay half-buried amid the rubble, sprawled.

“...”

Blood-soaked, Ak Jaryu lifted his head with effort.

His lips parted.

“Nam... goong...”

At last his eyes widened, slowly.

The Shadowless Demon God had removed the mask—and the identity hidden beneath it was revealed.

“Y-you... are...”

Seolhwa looked down at Ak Jaryu with a steady gaze.

“I told you. I’m neither the Lord of the Moon Medallion nor a Blood Lord.”

Ak Jaryu’s lips lost words and trembled.

His eyes, too, wavered as if they had lost their way.

The Little House Lord of the Hwaoru.

The Blood Cult’s Little Cult Lord.

In a sense, the one person who could be said to be bound more cruelly by the Blood Demon’s hand than he was.

The one who had believed that not even death could free her from the Blood Demon’s hand—

Stood before Ak Jaryu’s eyes.

“Ak Jaryu. If you receive treatment right now, you can live.”

She was holding out her hand.

“I’ll give you one last chance. Come under me. If you live, there will surely be another path.”

A way to slip the Blood Demon’s hand.

That, too, was first a matter of staying alive.

“...”

Seolhwa, standing tall and unafraid, filled Ak Jaryu’s gaze whole.

With the blue sky as her backdrop, she stood straight and shone brighter than anything.