Regressor of the Fallen Family

Logan was eager to test his limits and see the extent of his growth, as well as the strength of the opponents he could face—a perfect sparring partner to challenge without reservation. The Swordmaster, against whom his every attack was perfectly blocked and countered, served just this purpose. Logan put on full display the potential he had nurtured thus far, yet as time wore on, the once smiling Swordmaster’s expression grew increasingly stern.

Clash!

Despite the swords colliding head-on, Logan was the one sent reeling each time. After over thirty exchanges—most of which the Swordmaster had gracefully evaded or precisely targeted weaknesses—he began to exert force for the first time.

As Logan readied himself to rush in again, the Swordmaster halted him with an upheld palm.

“What are you doing now?”

“Huh?”

“You’re not telling me this is your best, are you?”

“…No, it’s not.”

“Is that so? Then let’s see what your best truly looks like.”

Logan’s expression tensed at the Swordmaster’s ominous tone. It was their first formal sparring since he had become an official disciple, and he didn’t want to start by disappointing his Master. Determined to prove himself, despite his wavering confidence, Logan decided to unleash the best moves he could perform.

Woong!

“Ha!”

Kwaahh!

Eight layers of golden waves surged toward the Swordmaster in synchronization with Logan’s shout. And before the waves even dispersed, a beam of light streaked straight through space—a technique that had previously inflicted a serious injury on Knight Plants of Moonlight.

Confident of finally seeing surprise on his Master’s face, Logan instead found himself face-to-face with the Swordmaster, a cold blade at his throat.

“…To be struck twice and fall—is that what you intend?”

Snap!

“Cough!”

The Swordmaster’s sword, after unleashing a feint, ruthlessly struck Logan’s faltering legs. A common training sword felt like a heavy mace to him.

“Get up. Again!”

“…Excuse me?”

“Again!”

Spurred by the terse shout, Logan reflexively stood up. His posture wavered, and his legs still shook, but the imposing aura that overcame him caused an automatic response.

“You don’t pour out Force in a mindless attack, do you? That’s not your best.”

As the Sword of Vision sank to foolishness, Logan wore a dazed look.

“What do you mean…?”

“Show me your best ‘swordsmanship’, that’s what I mean!”

The light brush of the sword’s tip exuded an intense killing intent.

“Don’t disappoint me further, Logan.”

Paling in the face of the change in the Swordmaster’s demeanor, Logan gritted his teeth and raised his sword again, drawing upon his last vestiges of strength, speed, and power.

But.

Taaaang!

His sword, twisted by a casual slap from the Swordmaster, went flying away, crumpled like a strip of leather.

“This is your swordsmanship?”

Their voice was colder than the expression on their face, and Logan couldn’t help but quiver.

‘The kingdom’s greatest swordsman, yes, I acknowledge that, but…’

That prestige and status didn’t diminish the effort he had put into his own progress.

“…Properly, I’ll show you properly.”

Blood oozed from the tear in his grip, and his legs struggled to even stand as the ebbing energy finally began to replenish. Filling the lacking place with stubbornness, Logan forced his body into motion and picked up another training sword from the side of the arena.

Dismissing any complacent thoughts of testing limits or showing achievements, he resolved, ‘I’ll land a hit, no matter what.’

Setting aside the rational screams of impossibility, he adopted the most comfortable stance to optimize minimal effort for maximum effect and visualized the path that would yield the best results.

Thump.

Everything, from the springing footwork to the concise swing of the sword, was executed with unprecedented cleanliness, given the absence of distractions.

But.

Buurk!

“Cough!”

“Too simple!”

The searing pain that erupted from his solar plexus stifled even a groan.

“Ghh, urgh.”

Against near breath-stopping pain, boiling anger forced him back onto his feet.

“Always think ahead. A transparent intention like that is barely worthy of being called swordsmanship!”

The incessant harping on swordsmanship resumed.

‘What exactly am I to do?!’

With his emotions boiling, Logan once again mapped out the optimal path, considering the Iron Blood Sword Path and anticipating counterattacks.

His body moved exactly as imagined, yet even the most efficient strike crafted anew was effortlessly blocked, immediately allowing for a counter.

Snap!

But Logan, prepared this time, bore the pain and threw another strike with his next step.

However, at that very moment.

Purk!

An even more electrifying pain lacerated his side.

“Use your head more! Your techniques are sloppy!”

The tether to his reason was thinning.

From then on, Logan persisted, driven solely by the desire to land even a single hit against the Swordmaster. In the midst of repeated attacks and failures, he continued adjusting his posture, unconsciously tuning into each word from the Swordmaster.

After an eternity, finally.

“You’ve somewhat shed your bad habits.”

A comment utterly incomprehensible came with the cessation of the Swordmaster’s reprimands, and Logan’s scattered thoughts began to coalesce once more.

“Ghh.”

Consciousness returned, accompanied primarily by an excruciating pain throbbing throughout his body. He barely understood how he had moved moments before.

“Logan.”

“Ugh…”

And at the voice of his tormentor, despite his agony.

“Our meeting was more beneficial than you were initially on the receiving end, worse than when we first met. Your swordsmanship has stagnated, perhaps even regressed. Instead of honing a brilliant gem, it feels like it’s been smeared in mud.”

His master’s scathing words sharply awakened him.

“What do you mean…?!”

“Have you practiced your swordsmanship at all? Just how did you manage to raise your state of enlightenment? Basic principles have crumbled.”

“…?!”

“Is piling on special techniques and Force your idea of powerful swordsmanship? Do you think that’s what makes you stronger?”

Recalling his recent fixation with the Divine Sword’s secrets, a chilling realization gripped Logan’s heart.

“Grunt. Once more…”

“Hmm?”

“Please, once again.”

The firm determination in Logan’s eyes, though painful, urged his body to rise.

‘I’ll refine my abilities from the basics.’

The pulsing core of Force within him felt clearer than ever.

Logan fainted outside the training ground, and the gravity of his condition was such that the knights who found him immediately sought a physician.

But the Swordmaster stopped them.

“Swordsmanship is learned through the body. It will engrave itself more the harder it is.”

Won’t he die if we leave him?

The knights argued with their eyes, but the Swordmaster was unyielding.

Reluctantly, the knights carried the unconscious Logan away, pity in their gazes.

Luis watched the whole scene unfold with an inscrutable smile before addressing the Swordmaster.

“He seems to have taken your fancy?”

“Hmph. Wastes talent, what’s to like…”

Despite the terse retort, a faint smile lingered on the Swordmaster’s lips.

“Still, I do like his tenacity.”

The belated praise caught Luis off guard.

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