Chapter 67: Grandmaster

“Hey, Isaac.”

“Mm?”

For about two more days, the battlefield continued.

By the time there was no longer any will or forces left in Blackthorn to resist—

Sharen quietly sidled up and glanced over before asking:

“Do you smoke?”

“Huh?”

It was so out of the blue that Isaac wondered what she was talking about, and then Sharen frowned and pinched her nose.

“I tried to go into your tent to rest, Isaac. But there was this awful tobacco smell, so I came right back out.”

“…….”

There were quite a few parts of that sentence Isaac wanted to point out.

First of all, he wondered why she was leaving her own tent empty and trying to rest in his.

But that was low on the priority list, so he let it go for now.

“Tobacco smell?”

“Yeah! It was really strong. I was thinking, maybe you were reflecting on the bitterness of divorce, going ‘Hoo… is this life?’ or something like that.”

“Where on earth did you learn that kind of talk?”

“I saw knights doing it in the North sometimes.”

“…….”

It was true that a lot of people in the North smoked tobacco.

“But this smell was way stronger than anything I’ve smelled up North. It really startled me. Helmut has a keen nose, you know.”

Although Sharen had lost Galenia, she was managing to cope in her own way. At first, Isaac worried she might not return to her old, innocent self, but seeing her persevere and move forward in her own way was reassuring.

“I don’t smoke, though.”

“Really? Then maybe someone else went into your tent, Isaac, and lit up a smoke?”

“…….”

Strong tobacco? Isaac moved off at once, half in disbelief.

‘No way…’

He told himself it was impossible, yet some small, hopeful excitement was already stirring in his heart.

Before he knew it, he’d arrived in front of his tent, where a faint but pungent tobacco aroma drifted by.

[This… is life.]

He heard the Grandmaster’s voice echo in his mind, smiling as she spoke those very words.

Isaac had once been a smoker himself, so he knew just how potent the Grandmaster’s tobacco could be.

He remembered that overly bright expression, casually blowing smoke while uttering embarrassingly philosophical lines. It wasn’t so much that the Grandmaster liked saying those words, but that she enjoyed everyone else’s reactions to them.

“Ugh! It reeks!”

“Sharen, wait here.”

Leaving Sharen, who had followed behind, Isaac entered the tent.

Thanks to Helmut, he had a fairly spacious personal tent provided for him, and inside stood a black-haired woman with a cigarette between her lips.

Wolf ears that pricked upward.

A massive sword slung over her shoulder.

Eyes sharp as a blade, reflecting the moonlit night.

A bushy tail curling behind her.

‘Master…!’

He almost called out to her aloud. That was how thrilled—and simultaneously bewildered—he was at this reunion.

He couldn’t fathom why the Grandmaster, who was supposed to be at the rocky mountain, would be here in his tent.

“Hoo.”

The Grandmaster silently exhaled a plume of smoke and then spoke to Isaac:

“I’m glad that red kid didn’t come in, all thanks to the strong smell.”

The meaning was straightforward.

If Sharen had come in, the Grandmaster would’ve had to kill her.

In other words, she had no intention of letting anyone but Isaac see her.

“And who might you be?”

“You may consider me someone important… with a keen interest in your sword.”

Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, the Grandmaster tapped the ground with her greatsword.

Simply by revealing she wielded a sword, she seemed to consider her intentions conveyed.

“I have many questions, but time is short, so I can’t ask them all.”

“…….”

“I watched your sparring match. The rumor that you overcame Helmut’s swordplay wasn’t a lie.”

So she had seen the duel with Lohengrin.

Isaac couldn’t help feeling secretly proud—after all, it meant he’d been acknowledged by the Grandmaster.

“Hoo… originally, I came to recruit you. To ask if you’d walk the same path with us.”

“Recruit me?”

So the Grandmaster was affiliated with some group at the moment?

Isaac didn’t really know much about this period of the Grandmaster’s life. He wanted to hear more, but—

“But before that, I have something I must ask you.”

The Grandmaster’s gaze turned chillingly cold.

“Who is your teacher?”

Isaac nearly blurted out an answer, but clamped his mouth shut. Realizing he had no intention of answering, the Grandmaster nodded.

“I suspect your teacher is someone I know from the past, so that’s why I asked—”

Flick.

Her wolf ears twitched.

In that same instant—

Claaaaaang!

Both of their swords clashed. If those wolf ears hadn’t moved first, Isaac wouldn’t even have been able to react.

“……!”

Rather, the person most surprised was the Grandmaster.

She never expected someone would block her quick-draw with the same technique.

“What are you doing?” Isaac demanded, startled. The Grandmaster responded with sorrowful eyes:

“I didn’t intend to harm you. I would have stopped just short of your nape.”

“…….”

“I thought I had lost every last one of my old friends… But you, you are my clue. Tell me—who is your teacher?”

Isaac was as bewildered as ever, having never seen the Grandmaster act like this.

‘Friends?’

In his previous life, the Grandmaster had never once mentioned her own past.

No one ever asked, and she never volunteered the information herself.

“All this time, I believed I’d lost them all. But the style of your sword makes it clear—you are from my school.”

That might be why the Grandmaster had taken on disciples up to now, but also why she never spoke of her past.

“I want to see my friends again.”

The Grandmaster’s plea, almost a desperate request, darkened Isaac’s expression even more.

‘Damn it…’

His chest throbbed so badly it began to ache. He couldn’t bring himself to say, “I learned this sword from you,” and in doing so, he was only letting her hopes build on false expectations.

‘Should I tell her?’

He thought that if it was the Grandmaster, she would surely accept him. As Isaac hesitated—

“Looks like a beast has arrived.”

The Grandmaster’s eyes gleamed as she leapt a good distance back.

At the same time, the tent tore neatly down the middle, revealing the dim sky and a fierce gust of wind.

What sliced the space between Isaac and the Grandmaster was a massive sword—

the one belonging to Arandel Helmut.

“So you resort to such cheap tactics.”

Shouldering the greatsword, Arandel stepped in front of Isaac and glared at the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster, too, gave a hollow laugh and sheathed her weapon.

“I know you’re misunderstanding something, but I have no connection to the transcendents of Blackthorn.”

Alarmed by the sudden commotion, the nearby knights rushed over.

Right outside, Sharen, startled by the noise, hurried to Isaac’s side.

“A-are you okay?!”

“This is…”

Dangerous. Anyone could see that the Grandmaster was part transcendent. Strictly speaking, she was mixed-blood, but unlike Jonathan, her transcendent blood was strong enough to give her ears and a tail.

And right now, they were at war with the transcendents. If he tried to defend the Grandmaster here, he would be labeled a traitor to humanity.

“Father! She’s not an enemy!”

Isaac paid no heed to the risk. He swiftly stepped forward and shouted, making Arandel’s eyes twitch.

“Ho?”

The Grandmaster instead looked at Isaac with intrigue. He hoped she would seize this moment to escape, but she merely stood her ground and declared,

“I’m taking him with me.”

“Wait—!”

Certain that Isaac held information about her fellow disciples, the Grandmaster was desperate enough not to retreat even before Arandel. That alone showed how earnest she was.

On the other hand, it meant she was prepared for the worst.

“Not yet—”

Arandel stepped forward, moving past Isaac. Extending his greatsword between them, his crimson eyes glimmered faintly.

“This one belongs to Helmut.”

Those words—clearly refusing to hand Isaac over—made the Grandmaster’s lips curl upward.

Claaaaaang!

The sword strike was several times faster than the quick-draw she had displayed against Isaac earlier. The blade flashed so swiftly that even Isaac lost track of it.

“Ugh…”

A wound opened on Arandel’s shoulder. But paradoxically, it was the Grandmaster whose expression darkened.

“You fool.”

She had likely aimed to sever his arm entirely. Yet she’d only managed a shallow cut, and the Grandmaster clicked her tongue in frustration.

Whatever the case, the line had been crossed. This was now far beyond what Isaac could intervene in and resolve.

“So a decent opponent has shown up.”

A blood-red aura burst from Arandel’s entire body. Its overwhelming power and density quickly seized control of the area, focusing the fury that once aimed at entire armies now solely onto one woman.

“Tsk.”

Clicking her tongue at the surging aura, the Grandmaster remarked, “Such brute force.”

Despite her words, she didn’t let down her guard for a second. Gripping her massive sword with both hands, she searched for an opening. Even she had to admit this wouldn’t be easy.

In his previous life, Isaac recalled how the Grandmaster had described Arandel as having a suppressive power capable of crushing even transcendents. Although she spoke dismissively, she clearly acknowledged his strength.

A fierce battle was imminent. In truth, it was hard to imagine Arandel ever losing a one-on-one swordfight.

His greatsword roared forth. Calling it a mere swing didn’t do it justice—the crimson aura within it swept toward the Grandmaster like a storm, grander and more colossal than any strike he had shown on the Blackthorn battlefield.

“……!”

But as though defying all physical laws, a single clean line appeared through the raging crimson storm. The aura split neatly top to bottom, and through that gap darted the Grandmaster.

[Aura? Are you kidding me? Once you reach the pinnacle, you don’t need such things.]

It was exactly as she said. Unlike Isaac, who borrowed Bricalla’s mana to tear through aura, she simply cleaved Arandel’s crimson force with pure swordsmanship. It must have been shocking for the knights of Helmut, who practically worshipped aura.

But Arandel was unfazed. As if he had been waiting for this, he met the Grandmaster head-on.

Claaang!

With a sound like an explosive shockwave, the clash at the razor’s edge of their swords continued to unfold.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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