Chapter 26

The Genius Knight Who Devours Memories

Chapter 26

The next day.

Rohan, Creed, and Kaisen left their quarters early in the morning.

-Pya!

Of course, Nir was perched on Rohan’s shoulder as well.

Their destination was Dorvan’s smithy, the one the Emperor had told them about.

The entire way there, Kaisen could barely keep his mouth shut.

“Dorvan. We’re really going to Dorvan’s smithy!”

He had already said it so many times Rohan had lost count.

Rohan looked at Kaisen as though annoyed.

“Is he really that impressive?”

Kaisen instead looked as though he could not understand Rohan.

“You really don’t know anything. You think Dorvan was always a blacksmith?”

“Then?”

“He was a knight. And a fairly famous one at that.”

Creed, walking beside them, added.

“More than fairly famous.”

“That’s true.”

Kaisen nodded as though he had been waiting for someone to say it.

Dorvan.

Though he was now more famous as a blacksmith, he had been renowned as a knight in his younger days.

Not only had he been highly skilled with the sword, but he had also made a name for himself by earning merit in numerous battles.

He was especially famous for personally maintaining the sword he used.

“Then as he got older, he stepped down from knighthood and inherited the family trade. His family had originally been blacksmiths.”

“A knight who became a blacksmith...”

“Yeah. That’s why he’s different from other blacksmiths. He doesn’t just make something that looks impressive. He makes real swords. He’s someone who actually entrusted his life to a sword and swung one himself.”

There was a clear difference between someone who had personally used a sword and someone who had not.

Dorvan possessed both experiences.

“There’s a reason knights wait years for him.”

Normally, Creed would have let Kaisen’s exaggerated fussing go in one ear and out the other.

But this time, even Creed did not particularly disagree.

Though he did not show it openly, he could not hide the fact that he was looking forward to it as well.

Rohan looked down at the sword hanging at his waist.

‘What does it mean to have a sword of my own?’

Until now, swords had been nothing more than tools to Rohan.

Things taken from the dead, or issued by the military.

If one broke, he simply picked up another.

After walking for quite some time.

“There.”

Creed pointed ahead.

Rohan raised his head.

‘...Big.’

It was completely different from what Rohan had imagined when he heard the word smithy.

Dorvan’s smithy was larger than most mansions.

Several buildings stood connected inside high stone walls, and several enormous chimneys rose behind them.

Black smoke constantly poured from the chimneys.

Loud noises rang from inside.

Clang-! Clang! Clang! Bang-!

As though dozens of people were hammering metal at the same time, the sound of hammers never stopped.

“Dorvan’s smithy.”

Kaisen looked deeply moved.

The three approached the large door situated at the innermost part of the building.

Rohan raised his fist.

Bang bang bang! He knocked on the door.

But no answer came.

Only the sound of hammering continued from inside.

Rohan knocked again.

Bang bang bang!

This time, a little harder.

A short while later.

With a click, the door opened.

Whoooosh- Hot air pushed outward.

At the same time, pale steam and smoke billowed up.

Through it, a man poked only his face out.

He had his sleeves rolled up and wore a thick leather apron.

His face was flushed bright red from standing in front of the fire for so long, and sweat poured from his forehead like rain.

The man looked over Rohan and the others once.

Then.

“Get lost.”

Bang! The door slammed shut.

“...”

A brief silence passed between the three.

Kaisen spoke first.

“Wow.”

Rohan knocked again.

Bang bang bang! Click!

This time the door opened much faster.

The same man stuck his head out with an irritated expression.

“No, if you want to make a request, go to the reception desk over there and apply! This isn’t where we take requests.”

Rohan reached into his clothes.

Then he took out the plaque the Emperor had given him and held it in front of the man’s eyes.

“I was told to show you this.”

“Show me what...”

The man stopped speaking.

His eyes slowly widened as he stared at the plaque.

“...Wait.”

He took the plaque and examined the front and back.

The expression that had held nothing but annoyance moments ago changed instantly.

“Wait here.”

Bang! The door shut again.

Not long after.

Click. The door opened once more.

It was the same man.

“Come in.”

____________

The moment he stepped inside the smithy.

Rohan unconsciously looked around.

He had thought the building was quite large from the outside, but the interior was far more spacious.

Roar-!

Red-hot flames burned ceaselessly all around them.

In front of them, men either bare-chested or wearing thick leather aprons hammered metal.

Clang! Clang!

Claaang-!

The sound of hammers echoed from every direction.

“The temperature’s dropping! Add more!”

“Don’t take that out yet!”

“Bring more iron to Furnace Three!”

Even though dozens of people were moving independently, there was no sense of chaos.

The man who had brought them inside offered no explanation.

“Follow me.”

With only those words, he walked ahead.

Rohan and the others followed him deeper into the smithy.

Past the furnaces.

Past piles of ore and lumps of metal.

Eventually, when they reached the deepest part of the smithy.

The man stopped.

There stood a furnace far larger than all the others.

And sitting in front of it was an old man.

“They’re the ones who brought the Emperor’s plaque.”

Rohan’s gaze turned toward Dorvan.

His hair was completely white, and the long beard hanging below his chin was likewise white as snow.

Deep traces of age marked his face.

He looked at the three of them in turn.

“I am Dorvan.”

His voice was low and deep.

“You brought His Majesty’s plaque?”

Rohan stepped forward.

He took the plaque from inside his clothes and handed it over.

Dorvan accepted it.

He checked the front, then flipped it over and inspected the pattern.

Then he ran his fingers over one side of the plaque several times.

“It’s genuine.”

He looked at Rohan with interest.

“I don’t know what merit you earned, but it must have been impressive. You’re the first person to come carrying this plaque in several years.”

Dorvan handed the plaque back to Rohan.

Then he examined the three of them.

His gaze, indifferent at first, gradually sharpened.

As though he were choosing a sword rather than looking at people.

He examined each person’s build, hands, even the way they stood.

Dorvan asked.

“Then whose sword am I supposed to make?”

Rohan stepped forward.

“Mine.”

“...Hm?”

For the first time, Dorvan’s expression changed.

His gaze traveled from the top of Rohan’s head to his feet.

“You’re younger than I expected.”

Then he turned and walked toward one wall.

Dozens of swords hung there.

Dorvan stood before them and looked them over for a moment.

Then he pulled one free.

Shing- An ordinary one-handed sword.

Dorvan lightly swung it several times.

Whoosh- The sword cut through the air.

Rohan quietly watched him.

‘...?’

Something was strange.

The posture of the old man who had looked like a blacksmith moments ago had changed.

His bent back straightened.

Strength entered the hand gripping the sword.

Even the position of his feet changed.

“What is your name?”

“Rohan.”

“Hmm.”

And then.

BOOM-! The body of the old man who looked nearly seventy vanished from sight in an instant.

‘...!’

Rohan’s eyes widened.

Dorvan’s sword was flying toward Rohan’s neck.

Clang-! Rohan reflexively drew his sword and raised it.

The blades collided with a piercing metallic sound.

‘Heavy.’

His wrist tingled.

A strength unbelievable for his age.

Rohan redirected the impact and retreated two steps.

“What is the meaning of this!”

Creed shouted.

He immediately reached for his sword, but the man who had guided them blocked his path.

“Don’t worry. It’s part of choosing the sword.”

“...What?”

Creed’s expression turned grim, but the man answered calmly as though this happened all the time.

“Lord Dorvan won’t make a sword without fighting the person himself.”

Meanwhile.

Rohan’s gaze had completely changed as well.

-Pyaaa!

Nir, who had been sitting atop Rohan’s head, seemed to sense the atmosphere.

It spread its wings wide and cried excitedly.

Rohan waved his hand.

“Stay over there.”

-Pya!

Nir fluttered away and landed on Creed’s shoulder.

Dorvan’s eyebrow rose slightly at the sight.

“You handle birds too? Doesn’t look like an ordinary one.”

Dorvan lightly swung his sword.

Whoosh- A heavy sound cut through the air, entirely unlike something expected from a man his age.

“Include that too. Show me everything you can do.”

Rohan stared at Dorvan.

“You’re going to embarrass yourself in front of your juniors.”

“Juniors?”

Dorvan smirked.

“You’re my junior too.”

“...”

“A former knight has picked up a sword again. The moment the sword is drawn, senior and junior are what we become.”

Dorvan pointed the tip of his sword at Rohan.

“And there is nothing more honorable than yielding one’s place to a junior.”

It was provocation.

Rohan rather liked it.

“You told me to show you everything, right?”

“Yes.”

“...Then I won’t hold back.”

Rohan raised his sword diagonally.

The memories that had entered his mind during this battle were incomparable to those he had possessed before.

‘How far can I go.’

Rohan himself had yet to find out.

Rohan kicked off the ground first.

His sword swung toward Dorvan.

____________

‘A brat.’

Dorvan thought as he watched Rohan rush toward him.

His grip on the sword was not bad.

His movements were fairly quick as well.

But he was still a boy whose body had not even fully matured.

More importantly.

‘He lacks experience.’

Before becoming a blacksmith, Dorvan had been a knight who had held a sword his entire life.

In his youth, he had fought countless battles and crossed swords with renowned knights many times.

Even after stepping down from knighthood, he always personally sparred with anyone for whom he intended to forge a sword.

Because to know what kind of sword a person needed, he had to see their swordsmanship.

In Dorvan’s eyes, Rohan was still nothing more than a brat.

Tap-!

Rohan closed the distance.

Clang-!

Dorvan blocked the sword without difficulty.

But then.

Claaang-! The moment the second strike followed, Dorvan’s eyebrow twitched.

‘Hm?’

The sword had changed.

Karnia’s orthodox swordsmanship.

But immediately afterward, the position of Rohan’s feet changed, and the sword tip trembled slightly.

‘Noxis swordsmanship.’

It was not merely imitation.

It was natural, as though he had fought with that swordsmanship for a long time.

‘He has a broad range of swordsmanship.’

Dorvan immediately shifted to offense.

Clang-!

Clack-!

Their swords collided several times.

Dorvan deliberately changed his strength and twisted the trajectory of his sword.

Sometimes he thrust without warning.

Sometimes he pressed forward with brute force.

He wanted to see how Rohan would respond.

And then.

‘Strange.’

The longer they exchanged swords, the more Dorvan’s gaze changed.

Rohan did not keep fighting in the same manner.

When overpowered by strength, he switched to swordsmanship that did not rely on strength.

When Dorvan widened the distance, he actively used the longsword.

And when the distance closed.

‘What’s that?’

Shing- A crescent-shaped blade was drawn in his left hand.

Dorvan twisted his body.

Swish-! The sword tip narrowly passed beneath his chin.

‘Nakandiya swordsmanship?’

Nakandiya.

Dorvan had faced that swordsmanship several times before.

It was surprising enough that a boy would use such a style.

Moreover.

‘There’s no emotion in his sword.’

There was no emotion whatsoever in his blade.

A movement without even the slightest hesitation about cutting down the neck of an old veteran.

And that was not the end.

‘Even dagger techniques...!’

Rohan shortened his grip on the longsword and this time mixed in movements from dagger techniques.

He looked less practiced with them than with the previous styles, but that did not mean the technique was crude.

Just when Dorvan was starting to get used to one style, another sword emerged.

It was as though.

‘I’m fighting several people at once.’

The corner of Dorvan’s mouth curled upward.

What made Rohan’s swordsmanship special was not simply that he knew many styles.

He selected whatever was needed depending on the situation.

If one was blocked, he changed it. If something was lacking, he filled the gap with something else.

More importantly...

‘He learns quickly after seeing something once.’

Even against irregular attacks he had failed to react to the first time, he responded accurately the second.

As they crossed swords, Dorvan gradually understood Rohan piece by piece.

His strength was still lacking, but his wrists were flexible and his movements were fast.

He was not bound to a single style of swordsmanship.

The roles of his right and left hands were completely different as well.

‘An ordinary sword won’t be able to handle this brat.’

Once that thought occurred to him, Dorvan instead grew interested.

Dorvan stepped deeply forward.

This time his sword was far faster than before.

Clang-! Rohan was pushed back heavily.

Without giving him an opening, Dorvan locked down his right hand.

At the same time, he moved into a distance where even the crescent blade would be difficult to use.

‘Now.’

Dorvan’s eyes gleamed.

‘How will you respond to this?’

At that moment.

Instead of retreating, Rohan stepped even closer.

‘Hm?’

Inside Dorvan’s guard.

As though abandoning the longsword, he twisted his body while their swords remained locked.

And then.

Whoosh- The crescent blade in his left hand surged upward from below.

Dorvan did not dodge.

He could have avoided the strike if he wanted.

‘But I want to see it through.’

How that child’s sword would come in.

Then the sword tip stopped.

Right in front of Dorvan’s neck.

“...”

Silence fell.

Rohan withdrew his sword and spoke.

“I hope you weren’t embarrassed.”

“...Hah.”

Dorvan let out a small hollow laugh.

He caught the tip of Rohan’s sword between his index and middle fingers and gently moved it aside.

Then, before long.

“Wahahahaha!”

A hearty laugh echoed through the smithy.

Nearly seventy years old.

Thump, thump! His heart beat rapidly in an undignified manner.

Dorvan looked at Rohan again.

He no longer looked like a brat.

In Dorvan’s eyes, Rohan was...

‘A monster.’

He looked like a monster.

A monster that destroyed battlefields and cut down enemy throats without hesitation.

And a monster like that.

Needed a monstrous weapon.