Chapter 210: The Young Prodigy (1)
Damian couldn’t help but be a little impressed.
He hadn’t exactly been hiding his abilities, but he hadn’t expected the Sword Queen to recognize him as a Master Class at first glance.
Her sharp instincts were indeed befitting of a future Sword Queen.
“Are you… really Damian Haxen?”
“I didn’t think there’d be another person in the world who looks like this,” Damian replied with a hint of humor, causing the Sword Queen’s eyes to widen.
“That arrogant tone… You really are Damian Haxen!”
“And who’s calling who arrogant here?”
“How could you become a Master Class in the short time since we parted? It’s unbelievable! I’ve been working myself to the bone just to reach High Class!” Rachel exclaimed, her voice filled with frustration.
In truth, reaching High Class at her age was an incredible feat. The problem was that her benchmark was Damian Haxen.
“I thought I could finally avenge my last defeat, but the gap has only widened! How is this fair?” Rachel showed no signs of calming down, and Damian decided to let her be for a moment.
“The youngest Sword Saint became a Sword Master before turning twenty, and the Empire’s greatest sword reached that level at twenty…,” she muttered, lost in her own world, clearly shaken by the revelation.
“Fascinating,” she suddenly said, her eyes gleaming with a fierce light as she looked at Damian. “It’s amazing to have the chance to challenge a genius like you.”
Rachel gripped the hilt of her sword, and a powerful aura emanated from her. It wasn’t quite murderous intent, nor was it hostility—it was pure fighting spirit. She was itching for a duel with Damian.
“Even knowing my level, you still want to fight?”
“Just facing someone as strong as you will broaden my horizons. I can’t pass up this opportunity.”
Now Damian understood what kind of person the Sword Queen was. Despite her noble appearance, she was a battle fanatic.
“Who is that woman, brother?” asked Michael, who stood nearby, visibly tense. Even as a fellow High Class, he was overwhelmed by Rachel’s aura.
Michael’s reaction was understandable. “In terms of talent, she’s superior,” Damian thought. In his past life, Michael Ryanbloom had lost his drive due to his overwhelming talent, leading a life of debauchery until he was defeated by Rachel, the Sword Queen. That defeat spurred him back into training, but even after reaching Master Class, he never bested her. Rachel was a prodigy who would one day contend for the title of the Empire’s greatest sword and humanity’s strongest.
“She’s the heir to the Lichtiawer Duchy.”
“That dangerous-looking woman is the heir to the Lichtiawer Duchy?” Michael’s shock was justified. Rachel’s fighting spirit was extraordinary, even to Damian.
“Well, geniuses are often like that,” Damian mused. In his experience, no genius was entirely normal—except for himself, of course.
“Damian, why are you just standing there? Are you saying I’m not worth your time?” Rachel asked, clearly eager for their duel.
Damian was curious about how much stronger the Sword Queen had become. Just as he was about to step forward to accept her challenge, a loud voice interrupted.
“Rachel Yaaaaaang!”
A large man with a bushy beard burst onto the scene, his luxurious clothes looking out of place, as if a bandit were trying to impersonate a noble.
“Sir Bradley? Why aren’t you waiting in the drawing room…?”
“How could you deceive me like this?” he exclaimed.
“What?”
Rachel looked bewildered.
“You said you weren’t seeing anyone! Who is this man?” he shouted, pointing at Damian. Both Rachel and Damian were taken aback.
“There’s a misunderstanding… I’m not involved with him like that!”
“You expect me to believe that after the way you were looking at him?”
Tears welled up in the man’s eyes. “So, all this time, you rejected me because of him!”
“That’s not true. Please, don’t misunderstand…”
The man wiped his eyes with a thick arm and approached Damian.
“My name is Bradley Heath! May I know yours?”
“I’m Damian Haxen,” Damian replied, his eyes widening as he recalled where he’d heard the name Bradley Heath before.
“The Fist Emperor?”
During the War of Destruction, the Empire had a group of young Master Class warriors who struck fear into the hearts of dark sorcerers. Despite their youth, they achieved greater feats than the older Master Classes due to their exceptional talent and skill. Among them, the Fist Emperor Bradley Heath was particularly formidable. As a martial artist who reached Master Class, his entire body was a weapon. Once he entered the battlefield, no one could stop him.
He was also known as a hopeless romantic, having pursued the Sword Queen all his life, even changing his title for her. Originally called the Dominant Fist Bear, he suddenly began calling himself the Fist Emperor.
However, not everyone viewed him favorably. The Fist Emperor lacked the skill to be the Sword Queen’s equal. Despite his achievements, he couldn’t compare to the Sword Queen, who was a candidate for humanity’s strongest. Moreover, he was much older than her, with a gap of over twelve years. Now that the Sword Queen had just come of age, Bradley was already in his thirties.
Damian knew little else about the Fist Emperor, as he had been killed by Pandemonium before they ever met.
“Damian Haxen? I’ve heard of you. You’re said to be a leading High Class of the Apple Kingdom…”
Bradley scrutinized Damian. “A Master Class? Were you hiding your level?”
“No, I reached it on my way to the Empire…”
“That’s not important. I have a request for you.”
Damian sensed he was about to be dragged into something troublesome.
“I wish to duel you here and now.”
“Why should I?”
“Isn’t it obvious? To impress Miss Rachel!”
“Impress?”
“Exactly!” Bradley thumped his chest. “Women are drawn to strong men!”
Damian glanced at Rachel, silently asking if she agreed. Naturally, Rachel shook her head vigorously.
Now he understood why the Sword Queen had avoided the Fist Emperor in his past life. He was a ridiculous man, but Damian was also curious about his skills.
“Alright.”
“Really?”
“People say you should grant the wishes of the living, not just the dead.”
Damian unleashed his aura, and the air grew heavy, pressing down on the Fist Emperor like a weight.
”…!”
Bradley’s eyes widened, but only for a moment.
”…Phew!”
He took a deep breath, gathering his energy. Damian and Bradley’s auras clashed in the air, creating a gust of wind.
“Impressive. There aren’t many Master Classes who can stand against me.”
“The world is a big place. So, where do you want to do this?”
“Follow me. There’s a training ground outside.”
As Bradley spoke, a strange noise came from behind a soldier.
“Ugh… I feel sick… I think I’m going to throw up…”
A man, who had been slung over the soldier’s back, groaned as he stretched. He slid off the soldier’s back and collapsed to the ground, retching.
“Where am I now?” he muttered, looking around. Then he spotted Damian and Bradley.
“Oh?”
Suddenly, the man approached them, examining their bodies with fascination.
“Oh, oh, ohhh.”
“Who are you… and what are you doing?” Bradley exclaimed as the man began to prod and poke him, trying to shake him off in alarm.
The man deftly dodged Bradley’s probing gestures, inspecting his own body with a practiced touch.
“Impressive. You’ve trained thoroughly. I can see the relentless effort you’ve put in.”
“With physical prowess like that, it’s hard to find a match! You’ve got the ideal boxer’s physique!”
“It’s been a while since you reached the master class, hasn’t it? To have grown so much in that time… Your future looks promising.”
The man nodded in admiration.
It was only then that Bradley realized this man was no ordinary figure.
“Who… exactly are you?”
“Me? I discarded my name long ago. But when I say this, everyone seems to understand.”
The man swept back the hair covering his face and spoke.
“They call me the Sword Saint.”
The room fell silent at his introduction.
“That can’t be true.”
“You’re lying, right?”
“Impossible.”
No one believed the man’s claim. The disbelief around him left the man visibly taken aback.
“No, really, I am the Sword Saint…”
“I once saw the Sword Saint from afar,” Bradley said, fixing the man with a piercing gaze. “He looked youthful even past eighty. But you seem well into middle age.”
“Ah… so that’s why you didn’t recognize me.”
The man gave a wry smile.
“Just a moment.”
Suddenly, the man summoned his magical energy, causing a massive ripple to spread through the air. Though it was just a ripple, it felt as if the very ground shook beneath them. Outside, startled birds took flight en masse.
Steam rose from the man’s body, and his face began to change. Wrinkles vanished, his skin brightened, and his once-clouded eyes cleared.
In the blink of an eye, the middle-aged man transformed into a young man.
“What…?”
“Huh…?”
Everyone was stunned, except for one person—Damian.
‘As expected, he’s extraordinary.’
The Sword Saint. One of the two master classes that symbolized the empire alongside the Empire’s First Sword. His mastery was so advanced that he could manipulate even the age of his physical form.
Damian had recognized the man as the Sword Saint from the start. That’s why he had offered him water and brought him here. Opportunities to show kindness to someone of the Sword Saint’s stature were rare.
The reason the Sword Saint wandered the streets was simple. He had long surpassed the level of training with a sword. To reach the next stage, he needed to refine his inner self. For that purpose, he lived like a vagabond.
“Looks like you’re finally ready to believe me,” the Sword Saint said with a grin. Slowly, everyone nodded.
“Ah, I haven’t examined you yet,” he said, turning to Damian.
Knowing there was no stopping him, Damian spread his arms willingly.
“Go ahead.”
“You’re a perceptive one.”
The Sword Saint immediately began to assess Damian’s physique.
“Oh? Oh-ho?”
He couldn’t help but express his admiration, but it was short-lived. Suddenly, his expression hardened, and he looked incredulous.
“What is this, is he insane?”
The Sword Saint continued, disbelief etched on his face.
“Judging by the instability of your magical energy, you haven’t been in the master class for long. How did you elevate your body to this level?”
“Master class bodies are strong, but… this is beyond that. I almost mistook you for a human-shaped monster.”
“This isn’t just about superior physical abilities. Every function of your body is optimized for combat. It’s like looking at a finely honed blade.”
“I almost feel sorry for anyone who faces you as an enemy. It’s truly chilling.”
After a long stream of observations, the Sword Saint turned to Bradley.
“Are you planning to fight him?”
“Yes, I am!”
“Give it up.”
The Sword Saint said bluntly.
“You can’t beat him.”