Chapter 20: Chapter 18. The Blade That Does Not Tremble

Deep within a crumbling underground laboratory hidden beneath the rotted ruins of an old watchtower, a group of bandits gathered around a glowing crystal suspended in midair. Arcane glyphs circled the crystal, casting ghostly reflections across the cold stone walls.

“This is your final offer,” rasped the voice inside the crystal. It was cold, inhuman. The kind that scraped against the bones.

A tall bandit with a scorched cloak leaned forward. “We’ll give you access to the border tunnels. We just want payment. We smuggle. You whisper. That’s the deal.”

The figure inside the crystal—a faceless shadow cloaked in smoke and bone—tilted its head. “Serve well, and the Ghost Clan may yet reward your ambition. But betray us... and you won’t be found. Not even your ashes.”

Before the leader could reply—

knock... knock.

Everyone in the room froze.

One of the younger guards crept to the rusted door and pulled it open slowly.

Empty.

Just wind.

He stepped outside, peered around—

Nothing.

One of the bandits lunged for the magical crystal, snatching it up with shaking fingers, eyes wide in panic. “Quick—hide it before—!”

SHNK.

A blur passed.

A flash of steel—too fast to register.

The bandit gasped, then screamed—stumbling back, clutching the stump where his hand had been.

The crystal, slick with blood, tumbled midair—

—but never hit the floor.

A pale hand caught it.

Smooth. Unshaking.

And standing there—bathed in dim torchlight, blade still resting quietly in its scabbard—was Hans.

His eyes, cold and distant, held no anger. No satisfaction.

Just silence.

His uniform bore the insignia of Nyxward, and on his left shoulder, the silver badge of an intern Warden gleamed, untouched by dust or blood. His raven hair fell straight down, slightly tousled but still immaculate. He didn’t blink.

“State your affiliation,” Hans said simply, his voice quiet but razor-sharp. “What is your connection with the Ghost Clan, and what are you coordinating with them?”

The remaining bandits stared.

Then—panic.

“Kill him!” the leader barked.

Magic exploded from their staffs—fireballs, binding vines, arcane missiles. One bandit rushed him with a dagger infused with lightning.

Hans didn’t move.

Until the very last moment.

Then—blur.

He sidestepped the fireball, twisted past the binding vines, and walked through the dagger-wielder’s guard. With a subtle flick of his scabbard—still sheathed—he struck the man across the face, sending him flying into a wall.

Another came at him from behind—Hans spun, knocking the spell glyph aside with his blade's sheath, then turned and, in a single motion, dashed forward.

Flash.

Four men collapsed behind him.

Unconscious. Disarmed. Crumpled.

Only one remained, trembling, backed into the farthest corner of the lab.

Hans took one silent step toward him.

“I will repeat the question once.”

He stared.

“What is your connection with the Ghost Clan and what are you coordinating with them?”

The last surviving bandit stumbled backward, sweat pouring down his face, eyes wide as he stared at the boy before him. No—not a boy. Not a normal Warden.

This… is no ordinary Warden.

His mind raced in panic. What kind of monster slices down six men without drawing his blade?

He clenched his jaw and raised his hands.

“You’ve left me no choice!” he shouted, voice trembling. “I summon—SKORTHON!”

A red glyph ignited beneath his feet, pulsing with unstable energy.

From the cracked ground, a monstrous figure rose—twisting and convulsing. Armor of scorched bone wrapped around a core of glowing crystal, runes blazing across its shoulders like ticking fuses. Its limbs hissed with coiled magic, and a thick, toxic green mist curled from its jawless mouth.

“This is a Level 3 Suicide Beast!” the bandit screamed, backing further away. “Once I detonate it, the explosion will wipe out everything within a hundred meters!”

He laughed—shrill, manic. “But the invocator is always protected by the glyph's immunity field. You… you won’t survive this!”

Hans’s gaze did not waver. He didn’t step back.

He simply placed one hand on his scabbard—his thumb nudging the hilt of his blade upward a single inch.

A soft metallic whisper.

Then silence.

The explosive monster snarled, vibrating with unstable energy.

Hans’s voice was barely a breath.

“Warned you.”

The bandit, rattling with fear, brought his trembling hands together—

CLAP.

The glyph under the beast erupted in light.

KRAK-THOOM!

The laboratory vanished.

Flames. Stone. Air-shattering shockwaves.

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Dust and burning debris exploded outward like a dying star.

The lab exploded.

Flames. Dust. Rock.

Gone.

Outside, a squad of Wardens hidden among the trees flinched as the blast lit the night like a rising sun.

“Dammit!” one of them shouted. “I told that intern it was too dangerous alone!”

Another cursed. “That was a Level 3 detonation! We have to go in!”

The commander, clad in silver-gray uniform, stepped forward grimly. “Form ranks. Move in—now!”

They ran toward the smoldering crater—expecting ruin.

Instead, they saw a figure.

Walking.

Slowly. Calmly.

From the fire.

Dragging a body by the collar—limp, lifeless, and scorched at the edges.

Not a single burn on him.

Not a single mark on his uniform.

Not even a smudge on the badge of the Intern Warden.

Hans.

He stopped in front of the commander, the body thudding against the ground at his feet. With his other hand, he held the stolen magical crystal between two fingers, completely steady.

His eyes, flat and unreadable, met the commander’s with professional stillness.

“I attempted to keep this one alive,” Hans said, his voice low and composed. “But he didn’t make it easy.”

He let the body go.

“So I eliminated him.”

Then he extended the crystal forward without ceremony.

“One transmission crystal recovered.”

“All hostiles neutralized,” he said. “One Level 3 detonation prevented from expanding by precise draw. ”

The commander blinked. Then nodded. “Understood. Good work.”

The squad behind him gaped.

“…He just soloed a detonation-level monster,” one muttered.

“While being a damn intern,” whispered another.

Then the first added, with a reverent shiver:

“He really is… Arthur Leonheart’s grandson.”

The smell of dried chamomile and cinnamon hung in the air as a light breeze passed through the old, half-opened window. The room was quiet—lit only by the morning sun streaming through the curtains, casting warm gold across the polished wood floor.

Charles Leonheart sat cross-legged on the floor, his back straight, two swords resting neatly beside him.

At the center of the room, Grandpa Arthur sat in his favorite chair, sipping slowly from a porcelain teacup. His staff leaned gently against the table, and his robe sleeves drifted slightly in the breeze.

“Master,” Charles said finally, his voice steady but questioning. “It’s true that those two kids… Sky and Taigami—they may not have succeeded your test within the time limit. But I saw how they fought. How they protected one another. They have… noble hearts.”

He paused.

“But what I don’t understand is… why did you send me into the forest to help them?”

Arthur didn’t look at him. He gently rotated the teacup in his fingers.

“Wasn’t the whole point of your trial,” Charles continued, “to see if they could survive by their own strength? Or did you already know something I don’t?”

He leaned forward, his tone sharpening slightly.

“Tell me the truth. Did you accept them simply because they were recommended by Ulrich Lane? Or… is there another reason?”

For a moment, the only sound was the soft clink of porcelain meeting the wooden table.

Then Grandpa Arthur finally spoke, his voice quiet, carrying that unmistakable weight of age and wisdom.

“My dear Charles… you’re as insightful as ever.”

He smiled faintly.

“You really do remind me of your father.”

Charles blinked. His brow twitched, but he said nothing.

Arthur leaned back, folding his hands over his lap. “Those two boys have seen more death and pain in the last few weeks than some Wardens experience in a decade. And yet, they keep moving. They’ve lost friends. Carried burdens too heavy for their age. And still, they refuse to run.”

He glanced at Charles.

“That kind of spirit—it’s rare.”

Charles looked down, jaw slightly tight.

Arthur continued, turning toward the window.

“And as for Ulrich… he was no fool. He wouldn’t have brought those boys across that distance, through Breach-infested terrain and collapsing cities, unless he truly believed they were worth saving.”

He gazed out the window.

Below, in the training courtyard, Taigami and Sky were sparring under the morning sun. Their movements were clumsy but determined. Taigami braced himself, throwing punches and weaving under Sky’s feints. Sky, still bandaged, moved with sharp, analytical precision—guiding Taigami’s footwork, adjusting his stance with soft instructions.

They were bruised.

Slow.

But relentless.

Arthur smiled behind his beard.

“See them?” he said. “They’re still training. Still fighting.”

Charles followed his gaze, watching silently as Sky swept Taigami’s legs and offered a hand to help him back up.

The old master’s voice grew lower, more thoughtful.

“With the Ghost Clan’s rebellion spreading… and Breach activity surging all across Veldria… our region is becoming more unstable by the day. Requests for Warden protection are piling up faster than we can respond. The prices of our services have gone up, yes—but so has the cost.”

His fingers tapped the arm of his chair.

“Many of our aspiring Wardens get poached by the larger factions before they even earn their stripes. Neo Genesis… is quieter than it used to be.”

He paused.

“And your brother leaving us for the Nyxward faction... hasn’t exactly helped morale.”

Charles stiffened at the mention of Hans. His gaze dropped. “He made his choice,” he said tightly.

Arthur glanced at him but said nothing for a moment. Then he smiled softly.

“Recruiting boys like Taigami and Sky… boys with nothing to lose and everything to prove? That might just be what this guild needs.”

He picked up his teacup again, blowing lightly over the rim.

“Sometimes the ones with the most broken beginnings make the strongest Wardens.”

Charles said nothing.

But his gaze lingered outside the window, watching Taigami fall again—and get up again.

Taigami ducked under Sky’s feint, sweat trailing from his brow as he pivoted across the sun-warmed stone tiles. The sound of clashing practice strikes echoed around them, mixed with their short, controlled breaths.

His feet scraped the floor as he dodged to the side again, but even as he moved, a voice echoed inside his mind:

Thank God… I have the chance to remain under Neo Genesis. To train. To fight. To become stronger…

To become like you, Ulrich Lane.

The image of the Warden flashed across his thoughts—cloaked in dust and fury, blade drawn, eyes steady. The man who stood against the Breach and shielded them without hesitation.

I’ll become like you. I’ll protect the people I care about… no matter what it takes.

But then—his foot slipped.

“Whoa—!”

Taigami crashed onto his back with a loud thud, groaning as Sky towered over him with a faint smirk. The icy-haired boy extended a hand.

“You think too much while sparring,” Sky said.

Taigami gave a breathless chuckle and let himself be pulled up.

That was when a familiar voice rang out, lively and warm.

“Hey! Taigami! How are you?”

They both turned as Celia Leonheart jogged over from the archway, waving one hand, a scroll of parchment tucked under her other arm.

“Hello also, Sky,” she added, giving him a polite nod.

“Hey, Celia,” Sky said with a small smile.

Taigami rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey…”

She stopped beside them, brushing her bangs out of her glasses and beaming.

“I wanted to congratulate you both,” she said brightly. “You passed the test—even if barely.” She gave a playful wink.

Sky nodded, his tone soft but sincere. “Thanks. Honestly, we wouldn’t have even known what to expect if you hadn’t dug into the records. That helped.”

Celia shrugged, slightly flushed. “It was the least I could do.”

Taigami looked at her now, the early light catching gently on her glasses.

“…Thanks,” he said quietly. “For everything. Especially… before the task. When we spoke.”

She blinked. “Oh—that?”

Flashback – Early morning, just before dawn

Sky was in the washroom when the knock came.

Taigami opened the door, hair slightly unkempt from restless sleep. Celia stood there, arms behind her back, shifting her weight slightly.

“Oh—Taigami. It’s you,” she said. “I just wanted to check if you guys were ready.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just about ready.” Then hesitated. “But… I don’t know if we’ll make it.”

She tilted her head, seeing the weight behind his eyes. She could read it there—guilt, loss, a soul cracked but trying to hold together.

Her voice dropped softly.

“You don’t have to be sure, Taigami,” she said. “But don’t let the fear stop you. You're not alone anymore. You have people beside you now—Sky, the Master, even me.”

She stepped closer.

“You think you're weak, but I’ve seen how you care. How you get up even when it hurts. You don’t need to be perfect. Just be brave enough to try.”

She smiled then, gentle and genuine.

“And if you’re still unsure… then do it for me. Okay?”

Taigami looked at her, stunned. A flicker of warmth sparked through the pain in his chest.

“…Okay,” he whispered.

Back in the present

“That was nothing,” Celia said now, waving off his gratitude with an embarrassed grin. “Really.”

She adjusted her scroll and glanced between them. “Anyway, things are going crazy in Veldria. Reports are flooding in—attacks, disappearances, full-blown raids. The guilds are overwhelmed. Even Grandpa Arthur is getting requests he usually avoids.”

Taigami straightened up, brushing his hand across his chest like an oath.

“I’m ready,” he said. “To serve Neo Genesis with everything I’ve got.”

A voice scoffed from behind them.

“Oh really?” said Charles, approaching with arms crossed. “With strength like yours, Taiga, I doubt you could even hurt a fly. Let alone fight real monsters.”

Taigami flinched slightly at the jab, his pride bruised. He looked down and muttered, “I know I’m still weak, no need to twist the blade in the wound.”

Sky took a step between them. “Taigami, don’t—”

But Celia spoke first, sharply. “Charles, that’s enough. You don’t have to say it like that.”

Charles shrugged with a sideways smirk. “Just stating facts.”

He walked past them slowly… then stopped. He reached to the side of the training post and yanked a wooden training blade from the rack.

With one hand, he tossed it at Taigami.

Taigami caught it awkwardly, blinking in surprise.

Then—Charles unsheathed two wooden blades and turned, twirling them once in his hands.

A gleam lit in his eyes.

“Bring it on, Taiga.”

The courtyard fell silent.

Taigami’s grip tightened around the handle.

Celia stepped back, Sky raised an eyebrow, and Charles grinned with a predator’s confidence.

The duel was about to begin.