I Pull Out Excalibur - I Pull Out Excalibur chapter 19

19 – The Unwanted Light (5)

The last gate to leave the underground city.

Guarding the entrance to the passage leading to the waterfall, Najin looked at Ivan across the line. It was the reality that Najin had been avoiding.

··· Najin knew that Ivan was chasing him.

Because Ofen told him. However, at the same time, Najin had hoped. Maybe Ivan wasn’t deliberately chasing him. Maybe he wasn’t intentionally being pursued. That was Najin’s hope and desire.

Because he didn’t want to face Ivan.

Because he didn’t want to point a sword at Ivan.

Because he didn’t want to fight Ivan with the determination to kill.

“You came.”

But reality unfolds before the boy.

The worst-case scenario you imagined has arrived.

“I’ve been waiting.”

If you want to leave this city, climb over that massive wall. To go outside, you have to cross over that man who drew the line for you. Faced with the impending reality, Najin’s expression crumpled.”

“Draw it. The sword.”

Iban pulled out his sword.

Iban did not perform the sword ritual. He simply pointed the tip of the sword at Najin. His eyes were colder than ever, accompanied by a low, commanding voice.

A pressing pressure on the shoulders.

What was felt was a sticky tension.

Najin sensed there was no other choice. He didn’t want to fight, he was afraid, but still, there was no other way, so Najin drew his sword. The blade, rough and drawn out with a scratch against the scabbard, pointed at Iban.

And then, a thud.

Iban lunged forward, driving into the ground.

Unlike during practice, Iban did not wait for Najin to approach first. Holding the emerald-hued blade, Iban swung the sword towards Najin.

Iban forced Najin.

To face death head-on.

Otherwise, I have no choice but to defeat you.

2.

Knight of Ahtanga, Iban.

At the age of 31, Iban reached the level of a sword expert and had been active as a knight of Ahtanga for eight years. Despite losing his honor and falling to the underground city, he did not neglect his training for the past ten years.

Eighteen years since reaching the level of a sword expert.

Iban, who was once considered a promising member of the Ahtanga Knight Order, spent eighteen years at a certain level. If he had received proper support and education, he might have become a Sword Seeker. A person who stayed at a certain level for eighteen years.

The meaning is simple.

Iban is a figure among the top sword experts. It means he can confidently win against most experts, and his swordsmanship and combat skills have approached the realm of perfection over the years.

In other words.

“Ugh!”

Now, for Najin, who had barely reached the level of a sword expert, Iban was an overwhelmingly formidable opponent. The moment Najin blocked the sword swung by Iban, his body floated.

Different. The weight of the sword.

Different. The density of the sword energy.

Even though he parried the sword energy, Najin was pushed back, rolling on the ground and standing up. There was no time to catch his breath. The sword Iban had just swung down struck the ground with a loud thud.

The ground was deeply dug, and dust rose.

In the moment when the rising dust obscured the view, Iban’s sword shot out through the dust. With a clang! Despite barely blocking the sword, Najin was pushed back again. The grip on the sword was numb.

Najin realized. How much Iban had been lenient with him in their sparring, how much he had held back.

Even though he had only clashed swords two or three times, his fingers trembled. Cold sweat ran down his spine. Najin gritted his teeth and regulated his breathing. With wide-open eyes, he followed Iban’s movements.

Fast. Solid. And unrelenting.

Ivan’s movements seemed to be disjointed, yet they all created a single flow. In that flow, Nazin was swept along.

“Thud!”

He blocked the sword, but it hit his knee.

He tried to deflect the sword, but his technique was parried, and Nazin was caught in the armpit by Formel’s strike. His vision shook as Ivan’s elbow swung towards his abdomen.

His breathing faltered.

And because it faltered, his stance crumbled.

In that moment, he narrowly twisted his body to evade the attacking sword, but his clothes were grazed by the tip of the blade. As blood spurted out, Nazin groaned. He couldn’t be swept away by the flow like this.

“I have to counterattack.”

But how?

Combat techniques, grappling techniques, feints, ways to induce the opponent’s carelessness…everything Nazin had accumulated so far was useless against Ivan.

Because all of those things were derived from Ivan.

They were all taught to Nazin by Ivan, and naturally, they surpassed Nazin. Density of sword strikes, completion of techniques, weight of the sword, stance, grappling techniques…in every aspect, Ivan had the upper hand.

“Do not fight on the opponent’s battlefield.”

“Of course, you can’t always fight against someone weaker than you. So, how do you fight against the strong?”

Nazin recalled.

“Lead them into your battlefield.”

“Find a place where you can surpass the opponent.”

A place where he could outperform Ivan.

“…Even though he told me not to be overconfident in my talent.”

There was only one thing Nazin believed he could rely on. The only thing that allowed Nazin to surpass Ivan. It was his talent and expertise. Nazin opened his eyes wider.

His bloodshot pupils moved rapidly.

Even when he couldn’t keep up with Ivan’s movements before, and even now when he was being pushed back, Nazin’s pupils were accurately following Ivan’s movements. With those pupils, Nazin exerted a bit more strength.

See clearly when you open your eyes.

The gap between Ivan’s movements. The subtle time difference that occurs when connecting one movement to the next. Nazin didn’t possess a technique that could accurately exploit that gap yet. He hadn’t learned that.

“But…”

He couldn’t just sit there and take it because he hadn’t learned it. Since when did he rely on his learning? The techniques he learned only expanded his choices, but it was always quick judgment and boldness that determined his survival.

Nazin thrust himself forward.

Ka, kagagak!

The sword flowed along the blade, and as Nazin made a motion that seemed to let the sword flow, Ivan attempted to parry his technique. Nazin dove into Ivan’s embrace. Boldly plunging forward, he brushed past Ivan’s shoulder with Formel.

Thud.

Najin identified the gaps with her own eyes. She struck at the seams connecting posture to posture. For the first time, she disrupted Ivan’s flow, seizing the opportunity, striking the ground.

Swinging her sword beside Ivan, Najin continued. With a clang, Ivan for the first time stepped back. Immersed in wielding her own sword, Najin didn’t notice, but at that moment, a faint smile played on Ivan’s lips.

“A technique I never taught you…”

Ivan countered, hiding his laughter.

“I figured it out on my own.”

Najin still felt inferior to Ivan.

She was still inexperienced, her understanding of the sword lacking. Yet, Najin compensated for it all, relying on her senses and pupils.

Using a technique she was never taught. Ivan clicked his tongue at Najin’s improvised movements. But still, he thought,

“She’s lacking.”

Even though he was dropping hints so clearly, she remained oblivious. Ivan forcefully pushed Najin away, creating distance between them.

“…”

Pushed back, Najin felt a sense of discomfort.

The energy she felt from Ivan kept vanishing and reappearing. It seemed like an intent to kill her, and at the same time, an intent to teach her.

Neither was false.

Ivan genuinely intended to kill Najin, yet at the same time, he sincerely aimed to instruct her. The human heart is not easily defined. Amid Najin’s confusion, unable to grasp the situation…

“Phew…”

Ivan exhaled.

Then, he repeated several meaningless actions taken during the fight. Raising the sword and calming his breath.

Clang!

Ivan’s sword aura became distinct.

His wavering sword aura became clear, and the blue flames that were dying down rose again. The repeated motion caught Najin’s silent observation.

Ivan approached. Swinging his sword, Najin countered in her own way.

Parrying. Striking. Kicking away.

Pushing, probing for openings, then stepping back.

In the ongoing battle, Najin realized something. Other elements could be improvised, but fundamentally, she was falling short against Ivan due to one factor: Ivan’s aura enveloping his sword.

Ivan’s aura was distinct and refined.

Najin’s was blurry and rough.

The contrast between a honed, perfected aura and an imperfect one. That was the gap between Ivan and herself. How could she bridge that gap? As Najin searched for an answer, Ivan once again adjusted his posture.

The repeated postures.

Najin narrowed her eyes.

“When you return, teach me the art of wielding the sword.”

“The knight of Atangga, staking Ivan’s pride.”

······No way.

Najin observed Ivan’s movements.

For a while now, Ivan had been repeating meaningless actions, as if urging himself to see. Seeing that, Najin unconsciously let out a hollow laugh. Only now could he understand.

The answer was there.

‘What on earth.’

On which beat to synchronize.

Najin had seen up close several times the posture Ivan took and the flow emanating from Ivan’s body as he wielded the sword. Having seen, he realized.

Najin stepped back.

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Ivan did not pursue Najin.

As if saying, “Try it.”

“Hoo······.”

Najin exhaled deeply.

Regulating his breath, Najin assumed the posture most familiar to him. Lowering his body, extending the sword behind his back—a posture for a charge. With the posture in place, Najin focused on the flow coursing through his body.

Not allowing the flow to simply flow. Grasping and twisting it. Making it flow in the desired direction, along the desired path.

Of course, it’s not an easy task.

It’s not as simple as following a few times after seeing it just a few times. It is originally learned by adjusting the breath and realizing it through long hours of meditation.

Ivan did that. Ivan’s master did that. Most of Atangga’s knights were taught in that way. However, Ivan knew. The boy in front of him was far from those with simple talent.

Najin has good eyes.

Ivan knows that. Better than anyone else.

Showing once is better than saying a hundred times, making the boy experience it firsthand with his body is the right way to teach him. Ivan, who had been observing Najin, let out a laugh.

“Yeah.”

Only then did Ivan open his mouth.

“That’s how you do it.”

Najin’s extended sword.

Above the blade that was entwined with white brilliance, golden particles emerged. The risen particles filled the parts that white couldn’t cover, blending with the white.

Golden particles mixed with white brilliance.

In the dense white, a glimmer of gold sparkled.

What was being created was platinum brilliance. In a place where no stars were visible, what adorned the sword of the boy who admired the stars was platinum (白金). It was a brilliance with a color like starlight.

The moment Ivan confirmed the platinum gleam adorning the boy’s sword, his pupils widened significantly. In an instant, Ivan burst into laughter. The platinum hue – a color of swordplay remembered by Ivan as one possessed by none other. A hue akin to starlight, exclusive to the legacy of King Arthur.

Drawing the sword left by King Arthur, a boy with the same gleam stood before me.

With a unique color of his own.

A radiance that completely enveloped the sword, surpassing Pyerin.

It was evidence that the boy had reached the pinnacle of a true sword expert. Ivan, gripping his sword firmly, charged towards Najin. The two gleams clashed and tore at each other.

Platinum and emerald collided.

3.

With each clash of swords, emerald flames and platinum starlight burst forth. After several clashes, Ivan and Najin simultaneously stepped back. Now, looking at the boy who had almost caught up to him, Ivan thought,

This should be enough.

“Najin.”

His duty as a mentor was fulfilled.

“Come at me prepared to die.”

Ivan extended his sword.

It was a stance unseen by Najin, a posture reserved for showcasing Ivan’s pride and a technique he had never revealed to Najin. A sword technique that executed justice and pride, punishing the evildoers who had lost honor as knights of the Order of the Shield.

Before unveiling this technique, Ivan issued a warning.

I will use everything I have to kill you, so you must do the same. Aim your brightest at me.

No more hesitation.

All Ivan had left was the will to live.

“······.”

Najin silently lowered his sword.

It was far from admitting defeat. On the contrary, with the sword still at his waist, Najin reached out towards the empty space.

Snap.

Najin clenched the empty air, revealing his brightest possession. The space wavered as starlight gathered. Thus, in the boy’s hand, the sword of stars, Excalibur, appeared.

Starlight illuminated the underground city.

The moment Najin summoned Excalibur.