The Greatest Warrior of All Time Returns

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 2

I could do it.

Without hesitation, I shattered my body, breaking everything I had.

Through countless attempts, I learned how to change what was inside my body to avoid breaking it entirely.

I created and discarded countless aura cultivation techniques.

I devised dozens of sword techniques before finally developing one that was barely usable.

Failure was replaced by death.

Through countless trials and errors, I forged better, sharper sword paths.

Meanwhile, I fought endlessly against monsters.

The fortunate part was discovering how to quickly subdue monsters that were no longer a threat, allowing me to train or heal without interruptions.

I often used goblins, the weakest monsters, and trolls, with their exceptional regenerative abilities, as training tools.

After all, those creatures wouldn’t die even if they weren’t fed.

After reaching the rank of Sword Expert, dealing with lower-tier monsters became almost trivial.

While researching ways to survive at the Expert level, I developed a cultivation technique specialized in physical reinforcement.

I thought I was invincible.

That was before I encountered the first wall.

I called it the "Newbie Executioner."

It stood like a gatekeeper, wielding a demon sword that decapitated me repeatedly.

Only after countless defeats did I conclude that I had to discard everything and rebuild from scratch.

Everything I had painstakingly built failed once again.

Even when I felt like losing my mind, this world didn’t allow madness.

So I discarded it all again.

I dismantled my cultivation techniques, broke my aura circulation, and discarded all my swordsmanship.

Then, I developed a new swordsmanship—one designed solely to kill it.

Dozens, hundreds, thousands of times.

Yet, there were limits to what I could create on my own.

So, I stole its sword techniques.

Dying hundreds of times, I captured its movements in my sight and imitated them.

In a way, it became my first teacher.

At first, I lost my head in one exchange.

Then ten exchanges.

A hundred.

A thousand.

Through countless clashes, I found ways to improve my newly learned swordsmanship.

And so, I discarded it again without hesitation.

Creating a single swordsmanship or cultivation technique took a lifetime's worth of time.

At some point, it felt like my tears were replaced with tears of blood.

When my body collapsed due to failure, I rebuilt it.

However, amidst endless retries, I discovered something.

Ah, if I do it this way, I can rebuild faster.

Ah, if I do it this way, I won’t die during training.

Eventually, after an uncountable number of attempts, I cut it down and surpassed the wall of the Sword Master.

A walking natural disaster, a living weapon of mass destruction—the Sword Master.

Reaching that level revealed new possibilities to me.

And so, without hesitation, I discarded everything again.

The level of a Sword Master?

If I couldn’t resolve the next issue, dreaming of the next step was pointless.

So I spent even more time becoming a Sword Master again.

After overcoming the Sword Master wall twelve times in total, I finally felt satisfied enough to move on to the next stage.

The monsters I encountered after that made [Demon Sword] look like child’s play.

Unimaginable combat methods.

Unimaginable destructive power and bizarre special abilities.

Ah, my first teacher, the demon sword wielder, is now obsolete.

Teacher out!

To kill the next opponents, I trained relentlessly once more.

* * *

Beep!

Name: Leon Cascadia

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Abilities:

Hall of Swords

Mind Mastery (Entry-Level): Allows review of learned techniques.

When did it start?

Despite the demon sword wielder’s ability to decapitate me with a simple swing, I began to notice something strange.

I had always been a slow learner.

When did my growth rate become this fast?

While pondering this deeply, my head flew off again.

Still, I didn’t stop thinking.

When a goblin charged at me, I crushed its limbs and resumed my contemplation.

And I reached a conclusion.

Talent or lack thereof didn’t matter.

Pouring immense time into something made humans adapt.

I had adapted to wielding swords and growing stronger itself.

From then on, everything progressed smoothly.

Even after reaching the rank of Sword Master, I repeatedly faced invincible opponents, enduring countless resets and trial-and-error, climbing step by step.

Eventually, I broke through the mental barrier to the realm of Mind Mastery—the stage after Sword Master.

This level governed the vast principles of the world.

During this journey, I met another monster wielding a sword—my second teacher.

I began stealing its techniques as well.

Another cycle of endless repetition.

At the end of it, I overcame the second teacher and continued to climb.

Then I met my third teacher.

Second teacher out!

Third, fourth.

Regrettably, from Mind Mastery onwards, meeting a teacher didn’t drastically change my growth anymore.

Through it all, I began to wonder if I hadn’t gone mad but had fundamentally changed as a person.

Yet I maintained the mindset I had when I first fell into this cursed labyrinth.

I couldn’t afford to go mad.

Even the idea that my transformation was madness itself seemed acceptable to me.

It worked in my favor.

Not all my teachers were swordsmen.

Some were creatures born for combat, inhuman entities.

Whatever the case, I pressed forward.

To kill enemies immune to physical attacks, I developed new cultivation techniques.

I surpassed the legendary level of Grand Master as a swordsman.

Ah, the air up here is refreshing.

Wait, no.

Not quite.

It wasn’t the pinnacle yet.

From this point onward, it became a matter of time.

I needed a cultivation technique and swordsmanship perfectly suited to me.

This wouldn’t get me to the apex.

Discard it!

This doesn’t work either.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Discard it!

To be honest, every technique and swordsmanship I created could easily reach the level of Grand Master.

But none suited me.

Eventually, I created a technique and swordsmanship perfectly tailored to myself.

Even then, I wasn’t certain.

I named it Nameless Swordsmanship—because it could be discarded at any moment.

What I encountered at that moment was a bizarre monster.

Was it a living being?

Human or not?

A child or an adult?

Honestly, pinning down its form was too difficult, but it didn’t matter.

After all, the fact that we had to kill each other remained unchanged.

So, I fought it—and lost miserably.

Ha.

You’d think I’d give up, but what would giving up accomplish?

If I give up, what else can I do other than pick up my sword again?

“Fuck it, let’s see who wins this.”

I met my first teacher, the Ghostblade.

With a simple wave of my hand, I sliced the monster into dozens of pieces.

He was my teacher in some way, so I thought of paying him back for all the humiliation I’d suffered, but I had no time to linger.

Then I met the second teacher.

His head fell off.

The third, the fourth.

The fifth... the twelfth...

I cut down every so-called teacher in my path and finally looked up at the immense presence that revealed itself at the end.

It simply gazed down at me in silence.

“You’re not fit to be a teacher.”

This one couldn’t be called a swordsmanship teacher.

It was a mass of unique power that I could never attain.

There was nothing I could learn from it.

After an eternity of challenges, I finally brought it down.

And for the first time, I witnessed a change in this infernal prison.

[Congratulations. You have reached the pinnacle of the sword.]

The pinnacle of the sword.

That’s what the text in the Labyrinth said, but I felt there was something beyond even this pinnacle.

However, it seemed so distant that I pushed the thought out of my mind.

What did it matter?

It said I could leave now.

Right?

I shouted at the words like a madman.

“Is it over? It’s over, right, you damn thing?!”

At my desperate outburst, the text appeared calmly.

[You have achieved every feat and endured every trial to reach the end. Further growth cannot be supported within the Labyrinth.]

“...”

[Do you wish to exit the Hall of Swords?]

That question sent a chill down my spine.

What was this thing saying?

“Wait. Am I crazy? It sounds like there’s something next, doesn’t it?”

Overwhelmed by dreadful unease, I dropped my sword.

So much time must have passed.

You’d think I’d develop a calm and dignified personality by now, but apparently not.

As I drowned in anxiety and shouted, the text responded as if my question was the most obvious thing.

[You have chosen every hall. Proceeding to the next hall: the Hall of Nothingness.]

“Stop spewing nonsense!!”

The scream I let out that day might have been the loudest in my memory.

The Hall of Swords.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

You can’t leave until you reach the pinnacle with the sword alone.

That’s what the text said, but there was a trap.

It only said you could leave the Hall of Swords, not this dreamlike labyrinth.

Until now, I endured by clinging to the hope that I could leave, but that hope crumbled to dust.

[Warning. Warning. The visitor’s ego is collapsing. Mental care intervention may no longer be possible.]

“You’re talking crazy. You want me to repeat this hell dozens of times? Just kill me already.”

I can’t do it.

I’ve held on until now, but I can’t anymore, damn it.

At my desperate cry, the text fell silent for a moment.

And then, it offered me a new proposal.

[We have a proposal for you, Visitor Leon Cascadia.]

“Fine, let’s hear your damn proposal.”

[We will temporarily seal the memories of your experiences here.]

“What?”

What kind of nonsense was that?

If I lose my memories, what about all my efforts?

I desperately want to leave, but it feels too unfair.

I had no talent for the sword, yet I’ve come this far.

How can I let go of that without regret?

What was the point of clearing the halls if I was going to throw it all away?

I might as well have given up on the other halls instead.

If I wasn’t mistaken, even with my current memories alone, I’d have no trouble surviving as a swordsman.

I glared at the text, but it calmly displayed more words.

[We will seal all your memories of the Hall of Swords and split your ego to simultaneously enter every hall.]

“All at once?”

[Once all halls are completed, we will sequentially restore the memories from each hall.]

It said I’d get all my memories back after clearing them, piece by piece.

“So I’ll just end up insane?”

[We will restore your memories gradually to prevent mental collapse.]

In other words, it would make sure I didn’t lose my mind.

I was at a crossroads.

I summed up the situation.

Seal my current memories, reverting to the state before entering the Hall of Swords, and challenge all the halls simultaneously.

Then, once I completed them, I’d recover all the memories one by one.

Was this even a choice?

“Do it.”

At least if those memories became something of the past, they wouldn’t be as painful.

Oh, that happened back then?

It’d be like recalling a once-agonizing experience as something distant.

Sure, it felt like I was dying at the time, but later, looking back, it’d just feel like, Oh yeah, that happened.

And since I wouldn’t have my previous memories during the process, the burden would certainly be lighter.

“Fine. Let’s proceed.”

As soon as I answered, light began to flow from the text, and my consciousness blurred.

And through that haze, I felt a strange sensation as if my soul was splitting into dozens of pieces.

But that haze quickly dissipated.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]