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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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“And now this…”
I picked up Yozo and unleashed an Aura Blade. A radiant glow, stretching nearly 10 centimeters, shimmered from the blade. My gaze darkened as I studied it. This meant that I, who had only recently stepped into the realm of Master, had now reached the lower-tier Master level. Clearly, something significant had shifted within me during my battle with Katrianne.
A Master is one who explores the deeper layers of mana and the threshold of the mental realm. Given that mana growth requires long-term cultivation, such rapid advancement could only mean one thing—a mental breakthrough. Unlike mana, mental growth can stagnate for decades, even centuries, before suddenly surging forward in a single moment.
But after activating Yozo’s presumed mental-triggered magic, I had ascended to the next tier of Mastery. A coincidence? Or inevitable?
“Ah, whatever. I don’t get it.”
I dismissed the thought and sheathed Yozo. The exploration of the mental realm was subtle and ambiguous—not something solved by mere contemplation. True mental growth comes from broadening one’s thoughts and experiences.
As I turned to leave, I noticed Shura sitting nearby, eyes closed in pristine meditation.
“Shura.”
I called out to her. Interrupting meditation was rude, but there was something I needed to clarify. I had forbidden her from meditating until she found her own path. Meditation only held meaning after one discovered their way—otherwise, it was just empty ritual.
Shura opened her eyes.
“Yes, Master.”
“Have you found your path?”
“Yes.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Balance.”
I rested my chin on my hand.
“Why balance?”
She gently stroked her beloved sword.
“Because of fate’s pull. My father was a High Elf, a being of light, while my mother was a Moon Elf, a being of darkness. And Dalaham, the sacred relic that chose me, embodies both light and shadow. To wield these opposing forces, I need balance.”
“Ah, so that’s why?”
“Yes.”
“But do you know about the trap of balance? If you fall into it, you’re screwed. Countless would-be Masters have failed because of this.”
“What… is that?”
Seeing her curiosity, I sat beside her.
“First, what is balance?”
“The principle of harmonizing two or more forces—or ideals—without bias.”
I smirked. Just as I thought—Shura had already fallen into the trap.
“Alright. Then how will you harmonize them?”
“Huh?”
“Let me give you an example. Say you have chores inside the house and tasks outside. How will you ‘balance’ them? You’re not planning to just stand at the doorway hesitating, are you?”
“Well…”
She hesitated. My question was deliberately difficult for someone trapped in the illusion of balance.
“What do you mean ‘well’? You handle the urgent task first. Even a three-year-old knows that.”
“Then what about balance?”
“It doesn’t exist. All you can do is make your choice based on your values. If you think the housework is more pressing, you do that first. If the outside task takes priority, you handle that. You don’t create balance—the laws of nature do, through the collective choices of people like you. And even then, it’s less about balance and more about harmony. Got it, you blockhead?”
Shura’s head drooped. Her hard-earned path had just been dismissed. It was impossible not to feel disappointed.
“I’m sorry. Then I’ll search for another path.”
I sighed in exasperation. She wasn’t just stuck in the trap of balance—she’d fallen into the trap of the world itself.
“Are you stupid?”
“Huh?”
“Why abandon the path you’ve found?”
“But didn’t you just say the path of balance doesn’t exist?”
“And you think my path is flawless? What did I say my path was?”
“‘Life,’ you said.”
I shook my head.
“Right. And the most important part of life? Eating. Here’s another question: If you have fried meat with sauce, do you pour the sauce over the meat, or dip the meat into the sauce?”
“That’s…”
Shura’s lips twitched. There was no right or wrong answer—just preference.
But this was the closest to the truth. The true path cannot be explained.
“Exactly. All ideals in this world are vague and ambiguous. They seem to exist, yet don’t. They feel right, yet wrong. So all you can do is follow your choice—walk your path. That’s why the road to Mastery is one you must walk alone. Remember that.”
“Yes.”
Shura’s face brightened with gratitude. She seemed to have grasped a glimpse of what it meant to walk the path of a Master.
Balance doesn’t exist. You simply walk your own path with the intention of balance.
“Then work hard. I’m tired—time for a nap.”
“Yes. Rest well.”
Leaving Shura to her meditation, I headed toward the back door of the office building. There, Armida stood waiting, arms crossed, clapping slowly.
“Hoh~ Not bad, little brother. You’ve got a real talent for teaching.”
I brushed past her awkwardly and stepped inside.
“I learned from someone else.”
Armida followed.
“Who?”
“An old geezer who only talks and never listens.”
“And who might that be?”
“Grand Duke Cloud.”
Armida’s eyes widened.
“He’s still alive? I thought he’d kicked the bucket since no one’s seen him lately.”
“Not dead. Just went into hiding after becoming the Imperial Slayer out of shame.”
Grand Duke Cloud was once a legendary general of the Yosrahim Empire, but sixty years ago, he abruptly retired. After executing the tyrannical Emperor Rotfze, he declared himself unfit to serve and withdrew from politics and military affairs.
Now, he only appeared at royal gatherings, living the rest of his days in seclusion.
(Though he would eventually return to the military, for now, he remained a recluse.)
“Really? He’s lived a long time for a human. Must be over 190 by now?”
“Yep. Early 190s. But he won’t make it past 200.”
The old man would die six years from now, weeping in frustration—not just over failing to reach Soul Master, but also over the empire’s bleak future.
Still, he was lucky. At least he wouldn’t live to see the true collapse. Shortly after his death, the Yosrahim Empire would be engulfed in rebellions and coups before meeting its end in the Age of Ruin.
“Hah. What a fortunate man.”
“Why? Because he lived long? Or because he was the world’s strongest swordsman?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Because he died just before everything went to hell. I’m jealous.”
Human life was twisted like that. The old man died in sorrow, but from my perspective, his end was enviable. The only thing he lacked was the unreachable Soul Master realm—everything else, he had.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s something a Valkyrie could never understand.”
Armida’s eyes sharpened.
“Are you mocking me?”
“Then give up immortality and live as a mortal. Then you’d understand without me explaining. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Hey!”
I ignored her and headed to my room. Arguing about death with an immortal Valkyrie was pointless. Even if she intellectually grasped it, she’d never feel it. And that meant she’d never truly understand.
—
### The Yosrahim Empire – Imperial Palace
Inside the palace, during a council meeting, the middle-aged man seated on the throne gazed down at his ministers with troubled eyes.
This was Bonaparo Eilsar Kizer Yosrahim, the current emperor.
One minister stepped forward—Marquis Alfred, the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
“Your Majesty, due to the disgraceful incident at the Divinum Grand Temple, protest letters are flooding in from across the continent.”
The emperor’s eyes narrowed.
“And?”
“We must swiftly take measures to appease the Church and other nations.”
“What do you propose?”
“First, publicly declare Archduke Karl’s son a heretic and erase him from the imperial records.”
“Yan is my nephew.”
Marquis Alfred bowed deeply.
“The situation is dire. Temples across the land are condemning us, and the people are in turmoil. This is no time for familial sentiment. Yan is already dead—slain by the Saint of Flames.”
The emperor grimaced and glanced at Archduke Karl. This entire mess had started because the empire’s Prime Minister had failed to control his own son.
Yet, it wasn’t all bad. Rumors said Yan had reached Master Swordsman—reminiscent of Grand Duke Cloud’s rise.
Another Grand Duke Cloud? The thought alone was dizzying.
“Archduke Karl.”
The archduke stepped forward.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The heresy declaration should come from you. He was your son. Can you do it?”
“I have no right to refuse. I will obey Your Majesty’s will.”
“And you must disown him from your house.”
“It shall be done.”
“Thank you.”
As the emperor’s gaze shifted, a golden-haired young man stepped forward, his face flushed. Crown Prince Simon.
“Your Majesty!”
“What is it?”
“Yan was your nephew and my cousin. Now he’s dead.”
“So?”
“I believe someone must be held accountable.”
Impressed by his son’s boldness, the emperor rested his chin on his hand.
“Yan was killed by the Saint of Flames. What do you propose we do?”
“What fault lies with the Saint? She merely delivered divine judgment upon a madman defiling holy ground.”
“Then?”
Simon glanced at Archduke Karl.
“Is it not the father’s fault for raising such a monster? And yet, that father remains the empire’s Prime Minister. I cannot comprehend this.”
There was logic in his words. Yan’s rampage at the Divinum Grand Temple had irreparably tainted Archduke Karl’s reputation.
And such a rift in power could disrupt the empire’s governance. Replacing the Prime Minister wasn’t a bad idea.
The emperor looked between Archduke Karl and Prince Simon.
“Then who do you suggest?”
“Duke Manfred.”
The emperor smirked.
Duke Manfred, the long-serving Minister of Internal Affairs, was a fitting candidate for Prime Minister.
But he was also the kingmaker who had secured Simon’s position as Crown Prince. Appointing him would only strengthen Simon’s faction.
“Any other candidates?”
“I believe Duke Manfred is the most suitable.”
“The empire is vast, and talent is plentiful. Surely there are others?”
Duke Manfred, his face pale, hastily interjected.
“I humbly suggest Grand Duke Rupet for the position.”
The emperor nearly laughed. Rupet? The man was bedridden, on the verge of death.
(To be continued…)
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