It all began with a trivial incident.

A minor incident where a mercenary in the conflict zone caused a ruckus within the camp.

It wasn’t uncommon for mercenaries to be unruly.

They were people who lived with death on the line. It would’ve been strange if they weren’t rough.

Fights often broke out as they tried to establish their own pecking order.

So, when Baron Esquente first received the report, he simply laughed it off, thinking it was no big deal.

But when that ruckus led to murder, he could no longer laugh.

When Baron Esquente found out the cause of the incident was withdrawal symptoms from drugs, he deemed it a “serious matter.”

His efforts soon bore fruit. He uncovered the culprits secretly supplying drugs within the camp.

That day, the third commander of the Northern Front executed no less than twenty-seven men.

There was no mercy.

All twenty-seven heads were put on display as a warning.

“You idiot. You should’ve known your limits. Did you really think the commanders would sit idle while drugs spread all the way to the front lines?”

“……!”

Millen glared at me as I spoke.

That’s how it was.

Just like Crescent Moon had become a thorn in the nobles’ side due to its excessive growth, the Sewer Rats had crossed a line at some point as well.

It was only natural that the drugs they dealt had made their way to the front lines.

Greed always leads to ruin.

Just as Crescent Moon fell, the Sewer Rats met a similar end.

It’s fine for mercenaries to indulge in alcohol and women.

Those two were practically considered virtues among mercenaries.

Alcohol, if used well, could boost morale, and women didn’t distract them during battles.

But drugs were a different story.

A mercenary high on drugs was useless in battle. And the ‘Mullet Flower’ was known for its severe withdrawal symptoms.

A drug addict was nothing more than a ticking time bomb, liable to cause problems at any moment.

Fortunately, the situation at the time was manageable.

We had a longstanding grudge against the Sewer Rats, and we had the strength to deal with them.

No matter how long the internal feuds of Requitas had been going on, there was no way even a master-level knight and a saintess combined couldn’t resolve this.

In a way, it was almost inevitable that this issue would fall into our laps.

Millen took a few steps back.

He must’ve known by now that Sirien and I had already destroyed their base.

With their foundation ruined, they wouldn’t be able to operate in this city any longer.

“...It doesn’t matter. Even if I fail this time, I’ll just come back and start over again. I’ve always done better the next time.”

“You think there’ll be a next time? You’re going to die here.”

Millen seemed hopeful, but I had no intention of letting him walk away.

I had to kill him here and now.

Letting someone with powers like his sharpen a blade of revenge against me was not a pleasant thought.

It was a incomprehensibly precise and swift prediction.

A blow dealt without any forewarning.

Even Edwin, the seasoned sword master, couldn’t pull off something like that.

How could the mere leader of a gang in Requitas manage what even a guardian in the ‘Sanctuary’ couldn’t?

I could say for certain—it was impossible.

Millen wasn’t someone to be underestimated, but he was nowhere near Edwin’s level.

If he had such skill, he would’ve been living as a master-ranked fighter in the Empire by now.

‘He can see it. He’s seeing my future moves.’

If Millen’s ability was tied to time, and he could see the future, then his movements made sense.

Looking back, the attacks I couldn’t avoid were all ones where his fist had touched me once before.

It was likely a form of replicating the same attack. He probably couldn’t use it too many times.

If he could, he’d have just repeated the same blow indefinitely earlier.

It was a meaningful ability when I didn’t know about it.

But a mere trick is still just a trick. The path I’ve walked wasn’t so easy that it could be destroyed by such shallow tactics.

Even if he sees it, if I make it impossible to dodge—if I make it so he can’t react—it’ll be over.

A sudden thought crossed my mind.

‘There are no witnesses here, should I use my sword aura?’

If I struck with power that couldn’t be countered, this fight would end easily.

Whether I used an overwhelming force or my sword aura, the result wouldn’t be much different.

But I decided against it.

Even experiences like this would help me grow.

I needed to become stronger than the original story. As a miracle-born sword master, every bit of combat experience was valuable to me.

And an opponent who could read my moves and respond? That made Millen an excellent sparring partner.

“Kugh!”

“As expected, you’re not much of a fighter, huh?”

“You arrogant bastard!”

I thrust my greatsword, imbued with divine power, straight toward Millen.

Of course, he dodged to the side, but I let go of the sword, using the same forward momentum to throw it.

The heavy sword crashed to the ground with a loud clang.

Right now, something faster and lighter than a greatsword would suit me better.

Two longswords lay on the ground where Russell had dropped them earlier.

With his arm in that condition, he must’ve left them behind to carry Isha.

I spread divine power to retrieve the two swords, then began slashing at Millen alternately with them.

“I’ll show you that dual-wielding wins sometimes too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s something like that, you idiot!”

If the enemy could read my intentions, then all I had to do was change my intentions.

A strategy that anticipated the opponent’s response from the start.

A feint that could target a vital spot at any moment, a well-honed strike that would suddenly transform into a trick and vanish.

Illusions of real and false moves shattered like glass.

Read me all you want.

There’s no way you can react to every possible move, out of the tens, hundreds, or even thousands of possibilities.

The skills I’ve accumulated won’t betray me. Even in the smallest movement of my feet, or the way I grip my sword, there was intention behind every action.

Until now, I’ve focused on destructive power because it matched well with my sword aura. It wasn’t because I lacked confidence in technique or strategy.

I gave up on landing the first strike.

Instead, if Millen dodged, I chased him down relentlessly. If he tried to counter, I twisted my sword in reverse grip to parry and launch a counterattack.

The swords in my hands whirled with endless variation.

“This is fun!”

“You crazy bastard. Are you enjoying this?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

An enemy who could read all my moves? How could I not be thrilled!

Defeating him would mean my swordsmanship had reached a level where even someone who could foresee the future couldn’t handle it.

Yes, a sword master should naturally be capable of that.

Millen’s fist grazed the side of my helmet.

I could hear the sound of the wind as it passed by, that’s how close it was.

As I narrowly dodged, my blade surged toward his arm. I twisted the reverse grip back to normal and aimed for his forearm.

Even though the swords weren’t mine, they felt like they’d been with me for decades.

At this point, it felt like any sword I picked up would feel the same.

It was as if the sword had been part of my body from the beginning.

From the slightly off-center balance that had been present since its creation, to the grip of the hilt and the shape of the blade.

Everything, down to the trajectory cutting through the air, flowed into my mind.

“Gah!”

“It hit!”

Finally, Millen bled for the first time.

The sword had only grazed his arm, but now that I had landed a hit, I could do it again.

Faster. Sharper. So fast he wouldn’t have time to think of countering.

At some point, the battle between Millen and me ceased to be a contest.

I was attacking endlessly, and Millen was just desperately dodging and blocking.

His face began to show signs of panic, anger, and even a little fear.

My sword left another wound on Millen’s body.

This time, it was his thigh, and the cut was deeper than before.

‘I feel like I can do it now.’

I could sense the sword moving the wind.

It was something Edwin could do, but I never could. It was the most frustrating part during our training.

I always used a bigger sword, but Edwin had the advantage of distance by sending blades of wind.

- How do you do it? You just feel the path of the sword.

- Once you sense it, you’ll naturally figure out how. It’s like pushing force into empty space. You’ll understand once you try it.

Back then, I thought he was spouting nonsense. But now, I think I finally understand.

I slightly twisted the path of the sword, tearing the air roughly. The sword’s sharp aura pushed force into the empty space.

Following the clean stroke, a blade of wind rushed forward sharply.

“Hah, so this is how it feels.”

“What... what was that just now?”

“Just be grateful. You’ve helped me quite a bit.”

Millen lost his right arm.

The wind I sent had severed Millen’s arm and continued on, carving a long scar into the wall.

That was the end.

With a fatal injury, Millen’s movements slowed.

In an instant, my swords stabbed and slashed all over his body.

Once I had completely neutralized him, only the finishing blow remained. My sword, without the slightest hesitation, sliced through Millen’s neck.

Naturally, the dead don’t utter last words.

“Now that this is settled, I should go back to Sirien.”

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