The Greatest Warrior of All Time Returns

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 17

“Can you speak to the deputy Count on my behalf?”

“Understood, my lord. It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Deputy Count. I am Bagmut Mielephon.”

“Melissa Cascadia. It’s an honor to meet the master of Mielephon.”

Soon, the man standing beside Osberg, Bagmut, began discussing matters of the demonic realm with Melissa in place of the Sword Saint.

The content itself was nothing special—a visit for a simple investigation.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

With the royal family already granting permission, Melissa, having no grounds to refuse, seemed poised to approve after confirming there were no issues.

As the two conversed, I silently fixed my gaze on the figure before me, Osberg Mielephon.

“Shall we discuss a different matter? I’ve heard from my younger sibling...”

“Yes. I want to take you as my apprentice.”

“I refuse.”

There was no need to think about it.

I immediately shook my head, expressing my rejection.

[The opponent before you is presumed to be highly skilled.]

Although the Librariran added its unnecessary commentary, my decision remained unchanged.

‘If someone wants to be my master, they should at least be stronger than me.’

It was an utterly arrogant statement.

The opponent standing before me was one of the strongest on the continent, with few who could rival him.

Indeed, from what I observed, his skills seemed to exceed the rumors.

Nevertheless, my judgment was simple.

The realm I had completed in the Labyrinth—

The tower I had built there stood far higher than anything the Sword Saint before me could construct.

To put it bluntly, I had nothing to gain from him.

Moreover, my criteria for seeking a master were clear—someone far beyond my reach, from whom I could learn something valuable.

Though, to date, all those who fit the criteria had fallen by my hand.

“Huh…”

Osberg wore a momentarily dumbfounded expression at my firm response.

Similarly, Melissa and the man Bagmut, who had been deep in conversation, turned to me in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.

‘Are you insane? Why would you refuse?! Do you even realize how prestigious it is to be the apprentice of the Sword Saint? Don’t you know how countless geniuses across the continent sought him out only to be turned down?’

Melissa didn’t say a word, but her gaze spoke volumes.

And I wasn’t oblivious to her thoughts.

Indeed, becoming the apprentice of the Sword Saint Osberg Mielephon would bring immense benefits—honor, wealth, and strength.

But my decision wouldn’t waver.

“May we step aside for a moment?”

When he rose from his seat, I quietly followed him to the terrace.

While Melissa and Bagmut continued their discussion about the demonic realm, I stood by the terrace railing with Osberg.

“May I ask why?”

“There’s nothing complicated about it. After my father, the former Count, died in an accident, all that remains of my family is my younger sister Melissa and me.”

“That’s a tragic situation.”

“That’s why I can’t leave. My sister is intelligent and talented, but she’s still young. Without my support, she wouldn’t be able to bear it alone.”

It was a statement that Melissa, had she heard, would find outrageous or hurtful.

But I had no intention of denying the truth.

Melissa was still inexperienced.

“You don’t trust your sister?”

“I trust her, which is why I’m giving this answer. Though she may act tough, she’s still tender at heart. She needs someone to support her.”

Leaning slightly against the railing with a bitter smile, I watched as he nodded in understanding.

“Yes, she’s still young. Too young to endure the storms of the world while holding up the family. Then, would you consider becoming my apprentice once she becomes a proper Countess?”

He didn’t seem ready to give up.

To this, I posed a more straightforward question.

“My lord.”

“Hmm?”

“Will, Intent, Enlightenment, Reformation, Pinnacle.”

It was an abrupt statement, and a look of bewilderment spread across Osberg’s face.

“What… are you saying?”

“Can you show me something beyond all of these, my lord?”

At my question, he was rendered speechless.

‘Will’ is the first realization, and ‘Intent’ the realization that follows.

‘Enlightenment’ is the stage where one’s ideals are projected upon the world.

‘Reformation’ is the completion of one’s ideals, bending the principles of the world to one’s will.

And ‘Pinnacle’ is the culmination of all these stages into a singular whole.

Anyone can speak of such things in words.

But someone of Osberg’s caliber would have at least a faint understanding of what I meant and the weight of my words.

Can you show me the entirety of swordsmanship—the ‘Pinnacle’ and beyond?

To be honest, I’ve reached the stage of Pinnacle, but I haven’t fully made it my own yet.

“I’m grateful for your offer, but I have my own path to follow.”

Speaking calmly, I turned and walked away, leaving him to silently watch my retreating figure without uttering a word.

* * *

Walking through the quiet forest path, Bagmut Mielephon repeatedly tried to engage the old man lost in thought.

“My lord.”

“……”

The forest of the demonic realm was cold, barren, and eerily silent.

“What did that boy say to leave you so troubled?”

Having served Sword Saint Osberg Mielephon for many years, Bagmut couldn’t hide his bewilderment at the current situation.

Who was the Sword Saint, after all?

He was hailed as the greatest swordsman on the continent, a figure respected and revered by nearly all who wielded a blade.

Naturally, many would even be willing to sell their families to receive training from him.

Given that no one within the Mielephon family had formally learned his swordsmanship, it was even harder to grasp the intentions of Leon Cascadia, the boy who had rejected him.

“Troubled, you say. Hmm, you’re not wrong. Reaching this stage and feeling this conflicted is a first for me.”

Thanks to Melissa’s official entry pass rather than Tyvel’s forged clearance, entering wasn’t an issue.

Swish. Swish.

-Screech!!

-Kyaaaa!!

-Kyaaaah!!

Each swing of Bagmut's sword sent monsters collapsing to the ground, spilling blood.

“In this world, there are those said to be blessed by the sword, or even loved by it.”

“Excuse me?”

“But what could you even call that child? It's peculiar.”

People often joke about describing prodigies of history as being one with the sword itself.

But compared to Leon, even those geniuses were mere mediocrities.

Countless swordsmen gain enlightenment and forge new realms.

But to Osberg, Leon Cascadia showed no signs of requiring such a process.

From the very beginning, the child already held the sword with an established enlightenment.

“A genius? Tsk, tsk. No, you can't call that a genius.”

That isn’t genius.

It’s a calamity.

To those who wield swords, he’s a calamity that would bring despair and force them to abandon their blades.

Even Osberg, renowned as the Sword Saint, felt jealousy creeping into his usually detached mind.

What more can be said?

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

A genius carves out new realms swiftly and easily, becoming stronger than others.

But the child, who was closer to a calamity, had no probability of failure to begin with.

Why?

The only thing keeping him from growing stronger wasn’t enlightenment, but his body—still not fully matured.

Others may not notice, but it was crystal clear to Osberg.

Teaching a child like that?

It’s impossible to teach someone already complete.

The only thing that child needed was time.

“Bagmut.”

“Yes, master.”

“Once the investigation of the Demonic Realm is complete, return to the house and bring the sword.”

“The sword… You don’t mean…!”

“Yes.”

At Osberg’s calm answer, Bagmut’s face twisted in shock.

“Master! That sword is one of the treasured heirlooms of Mielephon!”

“If it can be bought at that price, it’s the best investment. Isn’t buying at the bottom a fundamental principle of business?”

For Osberg, who treated even a talented imperial prince with indifference, it was astonishing that he desired this connection so deeply.

“Instead of this, wouldn’t it be better to intervene in the civil war? Even so, the heirloom is…”

“That would be a foolish move. Besides, don’t hesitate to give it up. I assure you, it’s not a loss.”

There wasn’t a trace of hesitation in Osberg’s expression.

He truly didn’t seem to consider giving up the Mielephon heirloom sword a waste.

“Even so, handing it over outright is unacceptable. The head of the Mielephon family would never allow it. Perhaps lending it would be more feasible?”

“Hah. You don’t trust this old man….”

“What on earth did you see…?”

“Unless an unexpected disaster occurs, I guarantee that child will become the next generation’s Sword Saint—no, far surpass me. If I can’t take him as my disciple, I must at least maintain close ties.”

Of course, the truth was that Leon was an exceptionally slow learner.

The path to mastery took him an absurd amount of time and effort.

But neither Bagmut nor Osberg Mielephon could have known this.

“Master, all that aside, we must first complete the investigation. Something isn’t right.”

The moment they arrived at their destination, they frowned at the sight of shattered stone boxes scattered everywhere.

Around the boxes lay desiccated corpses, their faces frozen in the expressions of their final moments, left in a grotesque state.

“It seems more severe than the Saintess’s prophecy suggested. Something that was sealed has been unleashed.”

“It looks like someone deliberately released it. We should move quickly.”

* * *

After Osberg Mielephon departed, I could sense that Melissa and I had some things to resolve.

Thud!!

“Where do you think you’re going? Come here! We have a lot to talk about.”

As I tried to slip away, she grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me into her office.

Then, she attempted to remove the ring from her finger.

Oh?

What’s this?

“Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Why?”

“Put that ring back on immediately. Who said you could give up your succession rights?”

“Come on, isn’t it obvious!”

She shouted indignantly, her voice rising.

“You’re stronger than me! Isn’t that enough? And what about the pathetic display I just put on? That’s not something a frontier count, tasked with guarding the Demonic Realm, should ever show.”

Sure, I had just defeated Vishiri Cascadia, who was stronger than Melissa, in a single strike.

It’s understandable she’d feel that way.

“So what? You’re still the acting count. If you’re going to make decisions based on strength alone, why not hand over the ring to the Sword Saint who just visited?”

“Well, no, that’s not…”

“Listen closely, you air-headed octopus. Do you think Father entrusted you with the title simply because you’re an expert?”

“…Wasn’t it?”

Her expression betrayed her rare shock.

“No, there’s another reason. So it makes no sense for you to abandon your position based on strength alone.”

At my explanation, she fell silent, deep in thought.

If I could just get her to let this go…

“…You’re just making excuses because you don’t want to take it, aren’t you?”

Tch.

I hate it when people are sharp.

“Think carefully. During the fight with Tyvel, I shed an unusual amount of blood. The citizens fear me. On the other hand, you’ve always treated them with kindness and warmth. Do you see the difference?”

She looked like she was almost convinced.

“Leon.”

“What is it, sis?”

“Didn’t you just indiscriminately slaughter Tyvel’s subordinates a few days ago? And the frontier family overseeing the Demonic Realm needs to maintain strict discipline.”

At that, she picked up a sturdy decoration nearby and hurled it at me.

“You little rascal, trying to trick me!”

I tilted my head slightly, dodging the object she threw, smirking as I did.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]