The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 40

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 40

Silver threads of light flowed between the torrential downpour of pristine white snow. It was the march of armored knights.

“Are you well, Your Highness?”

A middle-aged knight of such massive stature he resembled a bear walked beside the boy, gazing down at him.

“I’m managing well enough. Though the snow is fiercer than anticipated, and it seems to be wearing on the trainee knights.”

The boy called a prince turned to look behind them. Unlike the prince’s composed expression, the trainee knights bore visible signs of exhaustion.

“How much farther to Zigheart?”

“Given how the blizzard intensifies with each step, we must be nearly there.”

“Nearly there? Then the swordsmen of Zigheart endure such snowfall every single day?”

“That is not the case, Your Highness.”

The middle-aged knight shook his head with a faint smile.

“The weather grows more severe as one approaches Zigheart, but….”

Before he could finish, the falling snow ceased abruptly, and the sun emerged from behind the gray clouds.

“Within Zigheart itself, the weather is remarkably clear. Though the temperature drops even further, of course.”

“Hah….”

The prince exhaled softly and gazed upward at the sky. The heavens were so crystalline and clear that the relentless blizzard that had raged moments before seemed like nothing more than a dream.

“Wow!”

“The, the snow stopped all at once.”

The others gasped in astonishment, their mouths falling open.

“Duke Tartan. What on earth is this weather….”

“It resembles magic, but it is not. This is precisely why Zigheart is called a fortress blessed by the heavens—because of such extraordinary natural phenomena.”

The middle-aged knight known as Duke Tartan smiled faintly and pointed toward the colossal fortress walls visible ahead.

“Of course, even Zigheart has been breached before.”

“Hmm….”

The prince nodded calmly, for he knew precisely when that had occurred.

“They are waiting for you inside, so let us enter.”

Duke Tartan gestured toward the figures standing beneath the fortress walls of Zigheart.

Before an enormous iron gate large enough for giants to pass through, swordsmen draped in crimson coats stood with sharp, piercing gazes fixed upon the approaching party.

“Understood.”

The prince gave a curt nod and headed toward the iron gate where the Zigheart sentries stood watch.

*

*

*

I finished lunch and was heading back to the Training Ground when I stopped dead in my tracks.

‘What is this?’

A commotion of many people emanated from the direction of the main gate. The clang of armor striking armor—a metallic sound rarely heard within Zigheart.

Moments later, Iliun, the chief steward, appeared, followed by knights clad in silvered armor.

‘Owen Kingdom….’

A lion’s head was emblazoned on the left side of the silver armor. It was the crest of the Owen Kingdom.

The other trainees and swordsmen also stopped to watch the Owen Kingdom’s knights pass through.

“An envoy delegation from the Owen Kingdom.”

Dorian approached from the side, letting out a low whistle.

“A delegation?”

“Haven’t you noticed? The entire mansion has been cleaned from top to bottom for the past few days because the Owen Kingdom’s delegation was arriving. You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t. But the delegation seems rather small in scale.”

I narrowed my eyes, observing the small-framed children standing behind the knights.

“Ah, those are the training knights who came with the Owen Kingdom’s Third Prince. They likely accompanied him to gain more experience.”

“You certainly know a lot.”

“The rumors have already spread. Everyone seems to know about it.”

“I suppose so.”

It seemed only those like me, absorbed in training, and Lunan Slion, who was ordinarily vacant-minded, remained unaware.

I surveyed the kingdom’s delegation carefully.

‘Quite formidable.’

As if to prove they were of the same Six Emperors, the training knights’ martial prowess was comparable to that of the trainees in the 5th Training Ground.

‘Whether they’re strong or not doesn’t concern me, but…hm?’

As I turned my head to head toward the Training Ground, my eyes met those of the training knight standing at the very front.

His eyes, as blue as the sky itself, held an unwavering resolve.

‘Power beyond his years.’

A single glance was enough to discern the truth—that training knight possessed the greatest strength among them all.

‘Yet.’

That assessment held only within the realm of a teenager’s measure. He fell far short of what my eyes deemed worthy.

As anticipated, the blue-eyed child failed to perceive my aura, merely glancing in my direction before turning away.

‘I have no time for such distractions.’

My focus lay in perfecting my footwork and swordplay. Since there would be no confrontation with the kingdom’s delegation, a brief observation sufficed.

Raon walked toward the Training Ground, his mind consumed entirely by the flow of footwork patterns.

*

*

*

‘What is this…?’

The Third Prince of Owen Kingdom, Griere de Owen, experienced a sensation he had never known—a spine-tingling chill that seized his entire being.

He slowly raised his head. With each inch his gaze climbed, his breath grew tighter.

All of it was because of that man sitting up there.

Glen Zigheart, the Northern Sword King. Merely meeting the gaze of the man called the Continent’s greatest swordmaster drained the strength from my limbs.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I am grateful for your hospitality.”

Only thanks to Duke Tartan’s voice from beside me could I barely regain my composure.

“One might believe this to be the former king in his youth. Now I understand why he cherishes him.”

Glen Zigheart, having glimpsed my face, slowly nodded his head.

“Th-thank you, Your Majesty.”

My mouth had gone dry, and the words wouldn’t come properly. Without even displaying the slightest aura, his presence was overwhelming—a sensation I had never experienced even when facing the kingdom’s greatest swordsman.

“Your Majesty has sent a letter for you.”

The third prince withdrew a golden envelope from his breast. He forced strength into his wavering legs and rose to his feet.

“Ugh…”

Trembling, he approached the platform and extended the letter to Glen.

“Hmm.”

A flicker of interest crossed Glen Zigheart’s eyes, but it vanished just as quickly.

“I’ve arranged for you to observe the trainees’ training sessions, as you requested.”

Glen set the letter aside and spoke in a measured tone.

“An evening banquet has been prepared. Rest today, and begin your observations tomorrow.”

“We are grateful for your consideration, Lord Zigheart.”

“Then I shall see you later.”

“Yes.”

The third prince stepped back three paces, bowed deeply, and straightened.

“Duke Tartan—”

“I have something to discuss with Lord Zigheart. Please rest first.”

Duke Tartan smiled faintly and lowered his eyes.

“Very well.”

The third prince gave a brief nod and departed the Audience Chamber.

“A child of remarkable talent. He’ll claim the Sword Seat before the throne, I suspect.”

After a brief silence, Glen Zigheart spoke first.

“As expected, you grasp things at a glance. The Third Prince is being called the next kingdom’s greatest swordsman.”

“Certainly a rare talent.”

“Not just talent, but his resolve is unwavering as well. He even traveled south to study the Robert Family’s swordsmanship.”

Duke Tartan gazed at the door through which the Third Prince had departed, smiling with evident satisfaction.

“Hmm.”

Glen Zigheart’s lips curved upward slightly.

‘Talent, effort, and willpower…’

Just by looking at the Third Prince’s eyes, one could discern what talents he possessed and what efforts he had undertaken.

He had accumulated considerable experience at such a young age and worked tirelessly. Yet Glen knew someone who surpassed even that.

Raon Zigheart.

Knowing the effort and willpower Raon had demonstrated, the Third Prince’s accomplishments seemed rather unremarkable in comparison.

“You didn’t come here to boast about the prince, so let’s get to the main point.”

The letter in Glen Zigheart’s hand burst into flames with a crackling sound.

“You didn’t even read it before burning it.”

Even as the letter turned to ash, Duke Tartan’s expression barely shifted.

“That man would never entrust an important letter to a mere boy.”

“As expected.”

Unlike when he had boasted about the Third Prince, Duke Tartan now knelt with solemn gravity and bowed his head.

“I bring word from Lecross Albern de Owen II, King of the Owen Kingdom.”

As he lifted his head, his eyes blazed with profound solemnity.

“The Five Darknesses have begun to move.”

*

*

*

Thump!

My right foot glides forward with the fluid grace of a salmon cutting through water.

My left foot follows in seamless succession, the lower body’s movement as graceful as a deer bounding through the forest.

Not swift, yet graceful—not forceful, yet striking in its brilliance.

The twelve forms of the Garam Footwork that I unfolded carried the carefree liberation of leaves dancing upon the wind.

Boom!

I concluded my training in the Garam Footwork with a resonant strike that shook the earth beneath my feet.

“Haah…”

I exhaled the exhilaration from my lungs, straightened my posture, and lifted my gaze.

‘They’re still watching.’

As I turned around, the trainees who had been observing my footwork practice flinched and hastily averted their eyes.

Since the first day I learned the Garam Footwork, the trainees had been practicing their forms by watching me rather than the instructor.

Burren, Lunan, and Martha were no exceptions.

“Hmph!”

“Tch.”

Burren and Martha locked eyes, snorted, and turned away.

“Yeah.”

Of course, Lunan didn’t avoid my gaze—quite the opposite. He stepped closer and displayed his footwork, silently asking for instruction.

“Anyway.”

I shook my head and pointed out the shortcomings in Lunan’s footwork.

“Young master, could you take a look at mine as well?”

Dorian approached, scratching his belly pouch sheepishly, and demonstrated his footwork.

“First, your stance is too high. Lower it a bit more….”

As I pointed out his flaws, the Training Ground door swung open and Rimer entered.

‘What’s this about?’

I wrinkled my nose as I watched Rimer hurry in. This was the first time he’d sought me out during rest hours.

“You all know that a delegation from the Owen Kingdom arrived today, right?”

“We do.”

Burren stepped forward to answer. He too seemed startled by Rimer’s unexpected visit during rest hours, his eyes widening.

“Apparently, a banquet is being held for the delegation this evening. Since there are training knights among them, your generation is permitted to attend as well.”

“Oh!”

“A banquet?”

At the mention of seeing the Owen Kingdom’s knights and the opportunity to build connections with fellow trainees, their faces brightened considerably.

“But!”

Rimer shook his head sharply.

“You lot haven’t even properly mastered the Garam Footwork yet. If I were you, I’d be too embarrassed to show my face. Hmph!”

“Ugh!”

“That’s… well…”

The trainees bit their lips at his unexpected words.

“What? You were actually planning to go? When you still have so much training left? Your swordplay isn’t perfected, your footwork isn’t complete?”

He thrust his face forward, scanning the trainees with a mocking gaze.

“Damn it!”

“Sigh…”

The trainees hung their heads, unable to find a response.

“There’s only one person here who can attend.”

Rimer’s gaze turned toward Raon.

“What will you do?”

“I’m not interested.”

I shook my head and picked up the training sword. The Garam Breath Technique had become nearly perfect, but harmonizing it with swordplay still required much work.

Now was not the time to attend banquets and build connections—it was the time to dedicate myself fully to training.

“That’s the right attitude.”

Rimer smiled faintly, his expression one of knowing approval. His smile carried unmistakable satisfaction.

“Well, if anyone really wants to go, I’d send them. Does anyone want to?”

He kept his hand on my shoulder as he swept his gaze across the trainees.

Even the strongest among us had chosen to remain and train—his expression made clear his silent question of whether they truly dared to leave.

“Hmph!”

“…No, sir.”

Martha and Burren turned away and stepped back to resume their training.

“…”

Lunan hadn’t been listening to Rimer from the start—he was simply practicing footwork.

“Then continue your training. Once you grow stronger, you’ll have countless opportunities to attend banquets! I’m leaving now.”

Rimer waved his hand playfully at the trainees and departed from the Training Ground.

“Hmm….”

I watched his retreating figure and scratched my cheek. Given Rimer’s usual disposition, he would normally allow something as simple as a banquet, so his refusal seemed odd.

‘What is he scheming now?’

*

*

*

In place of violent blizzards, brilliant illumination cascaded down upon the Zigheart Main Residence’s Main Hall Banquet Hall.

Griere de Owen, the third prince of the Owen Kingdom, took his seat at his designated place with a satisfied expression.

‘How tedious.’

After hours of conversing with Zigheart’s dignitaries, his head had grown dizzy. These gatherings were truly unbearable—he would have preferred to simply wield his sword instead.

His presence here wasn’t solely due to the king’s command.

The Zigheart sword.

And to witness the swordsmen who honed it.

“Phew.”

The Third Prince drained the drink on the table in one gulp, his expression twisting with displeasure.

‘They are certainly formidable warriors.’

The aura emanating from the Zigheart swordsmen was noble and fierce—their martial prowess rivaling that of the Owen Kingdom’s knights, enough to set his heart racing.

‘But.’

The young swordsmen of Zigheart he had come to observe proved utterly disappointing.

In any other family or kingdom, they would certainly be called exceptional talents, yet they fell short of what one would expect from Six Emperors trainees.

‘They don’t even compare to the Robert Family.’

The young swordsmen of the Robert Family in the Southern Region, whom he had visited before coming to Zigheart, appeared to be superior.

“There’s no need to return tomorrow.”

Glen Zigheart had graciously arranged for him to observe the trainees’ training, but at this level, there was little reason to bother visiting again.

“You seem disappointed, sir.”

“Gasp!”

I spun around at the light voice coming from behind me.

“What? The Red-haired Elf?”

The Red-haired Elf, with her deep emerald eyes, stood with her hands clasped behind her back, smiling softly.

“Would you like to see the real thing?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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