Chapter 37 – The Nameless Sword Saint
Silence.
Not just within the Trial Tower.
Across the entire Celestial Academy.
Every floating screen displaying the examinations suddenly flickered before focusing on a single battlefield.
A sea of broken swords stretched endlessly beneath a blood-red sky.
At its center stood two figures.
Azrael.
And the old swordsman.
The old man wore simple gray robes that had long since faded with age.
A straw hat shadowed his face.
In his right hand rested a plain black sword.
There was nothing extraordinary about the weapon.
No runes.
No aura.
No divine light.
Yet every professor watching instinctively stood.
Headmaster Orion slowly exhaled.
"...The Nameless Sword Saint."
Professor Duran, the ancient dragon, frowned.
"I thought his trial had disappeared."
"It should have."
"It vanished over eighty thousand years ago."
A younger professor looked confused.
"Who is he?"
Everyone became unusually quiet.
Finally, Orion answered.
"One of the founders of this Academy."
"He climbed the Trial Tower farther than anyone in recorded history."
"The Tower preserved his swordsmanship."
"But..."
"No student has been deemed worthy enough to face him since."
The younger professor swallowed.
"How many defeated him?"
Orion smiled bitterly.
"None."
Inside the Tower...
The old man slowly removed his straw hat.
His appearance was ordinary.
Wrinkled skin.
White hair tied behind his back.
Calm gray eyes.
Nothing about him suggested overwhelming power.
He planted the black sword into the ground.
"You are..."
"...the first."
Azrael tilted his head.
"The first what?"
"The first candidate in eighty thousand years..."
"...the Tower considers worthy of this lesson."
The System appeared.
Hidden Trial
The Sword Beyond Victory
Opponent:
Unknown
Success Reward:
???
Failure Penalty:
None
Azrael frowned.
"No failure penalty?"
The old man smiled.
"Because victory..."
"...is impossible."
Marcus, watching from outside, nearly choked.
"Impossible?"
Ryan folded his arms.
"I don’t like the sound of that."
The old man slowly approached.
Each step was steady.
Natural.
He didn’t release any pressure.
He didn’t display his cultivation.
He simply walked.
Then...
He stopped ten meters away.
"What is a sword?"
Azrael blinked.
"...A weapon."
The old man shook his head.
"Wrong."
He pointed toward Astraeus.
"What is that?"
"A sword."
"No."
Again.
"What is it?"
Azrael remained silent.
The old man smiled.
"You don’t know."
"Good."
"That means you can still learn."
Without warning...
The old man swung.
The black blade moved so slowly that Azrael could clearly see it approaching.
He instinctively raised Astraeus.
CLANG!
The impact nearly shattered every bone in his body.
He was launched hundreds of meters backward.
His feet carved deep trenches across the endless battlefield.
"What...?"
There had been no energy.
No skill.
No explosive force.
Just...
A single swing.
The old man calmly lowered his sword.
"I used only the strength of an ordinary human."
Azrael’s eyes widened.
Impossible.
That strike had felt heavier than Duke Valdris’ attacks.
Outside...
Every student stared in disbelief.
Marcus clenched his fists.
"He didn’t even move fast."
Professor Duran nodded.
"Exactly."
"That..."
"...is true mastery."
Azrael steadied his breathing.
He charged again.
This time...
He activated Origin Step.
His body blurred.
He appeared behind the old man.
Astraeus descended.
The old man simply took one step.
The attack missed.
Azrael immediately followed with another strike.
Again...
Missed.
A third.
A fourth.
A fifth.
Not once did the old man counterattack.
He merely walked.
Each movement was the smallest possible motion.
Nothing was wasted.
Nothing was excessive.
Eventually...
Azrael stopped.
Sweat dripped down his forehead.
"I can’t touch you."
The old man nodded.
"Correct."
"Do you know why?"
Azrael thought for a long moment.
"...Because you’re stronger."
The old man sighed.
"You still don’t understand."
He pointed toward Astraeus.
"Your sword."
"It wants to protect."
"You."
He pointed toward himself.
"My sword..."
"...protects the world."
Silence.
"What is the difference?"
Azrael frowned.
"I..."
"...don’t know."
"Then continue."
Hours passed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Azrael attacked.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He failed.
The old man never became impatient.
Never mocked him.
Never grew tired.
Each exchange became another lesson.
The Trial Tower itself seemed to slow time.
Outside...
Only minutes passed.
Inside...
Azrael had fought for what felt like days.
His breathing grew calmer.
His movements became smoother.
He no longer attacked recklessly.
He observed.
Listened.
Adapted.
The old man smiled.
"Better."
Far away...
Seraphina reached Floor Five.
Her trial differed greatly.
She stood before a battlefield covered with fallen soldiers.
Thousands lay wounded.
The System spoke.
Floor Five
One life.
One choice.
You cannot save everyone.
Seraphina froze.
"What?"
Before her stood three groups.
Children trapped beneath burning ruins.
Wounded soldiers slowly dying.
And an elderly healer barely keeping hundreds alive.
The System repeated.
"You may only choose one."
Tears filled her eyes.
"No..."
"There has to be another way."
Time began counting down.
300...
299...
298...
Outside...
Several professors nodded.
"This is the Trial of Sacrifice."
"It teaches leaders that impossible decisions exist."
Headmaster Orion quietly watched Seraphina’s screen.
He knew this trial well.
There was no perfect answer.
Inside...
Seraphina looked at every group.
Then slowly closed her eyes.
"No."
Golden light erupted from her body.
Her Bloom Halo spun rapidly.
Her Genesis Wings spread to their fullest.
"I refuse."
The System responded.
"Rules cannot be broken."
Seraphina smiled through her tears.
"Then..."
"...I’ll evolve beyond the rules."
She raised Elysia toward the sky.
"Genesis Domain."
The golden forest erupted around her.
Roots spread beneath the battlefield.
Flowers bloomed.
Countless World Seeds scattered into the air.
Instead of choosing...
She divided her own life force.
One-third flowed toward the children.
One-third toward the soldiers.
One-third toward the healers.
The golden forest expanded beyond its previous limits.
Every tree illuminated.
Every flower released life essence.
The timer stopped.
The battlefield fell silent.
The mechanical voice spoke once more.
Rule Violated
...
Evaluating...
...
Candidate has created a valid alternative.
Trial Cleared.
Evaluation:
Perfect.
Outside...
The professors stared.
Professor Duran laughed loudly.
"She negotiated with the Tower!"
Another professor shook his head.
"I’ve never seen anyone clear the Trial of Sacrifice like that."
Headmaster Orion smiled proudly.
"Neither have I."
Meanwhile...
Back on the sea of broken swords...
The old man finally raised his blade once more.
"This is my final lesson."
He pointed his sword toward Azrael.
"Forget every technique."
"Forget every skill."
"Forget every victory."
"Swing."
Azrael closed his eyes.
He released every complicated thought.
No Origin Step.
No Aura.
No techniques.
Just...
One step.
One breath.
One swing.
The two swords met.
...Clink.
For the first time...
The old man had blocked.
A smile slowly spread across his weathered face.
"Excellent."
"You’ve finally stopped trying to become stronger."
"You’ve begun trying..."
"...to understand."
The endless sea of broken swords trembled.
Every blade buried in the earth began humming.
One by one...
Millions of swords rose into the sky.
The Trial Tower echoed with an announcement that had not been heard for tens of thousands of years.
Hidden Trial Completed
Successor Recognized.
Inheritance Available.
Far beyond the Academy...
Within a realm of endless swords...
A pair of ancient eyes slowly opened.
Someone...
Had inherited the legacy of the Nameless Sword Saint.
And for the first time in eighty thousand years...
The sleeping Sword Realm acknowledged a new heir.