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| title | slug | novel | number | views | likes | wordCount | createdAt |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Chapter 10: A Life-Changing Opportunity (Part 5) | ch-10 | Infinite Mage [Remake] | 1 | 2850000 | 198000 | 3600 | 2020-01-17 |
The Great Training Hall.
Shirone arrived precisely on time and saw Rian already waiting for him.
The battle had already begun in spirit.
Neither moved from their positions, their eyes locked onto each other’s swords.
Rian: "Let’s begin."
Rian’s weapon was also a longsword.
The bold, sweeping techniques of the Ozent swordsmanship were traditionally better suited for greatswords rather than longswords—but that was only after unlocking one’s Schema.
Thus, Rian hadn’t chosen the longsword out of consideration for his opponent, but because it suited him.
His gaze scrutinized Shirone’s stance—the Jeongjoongdong posture, a fundamental swordsmanship stance Shirone had learned as a beginner.
His center of gravity was far more stable than before.
’Is this really possible?’
Having glimpsed Rai’s talent in Shirone, Rian suddenly wondered:
’Maybe he really never learned swordsmanship before.’
’More importantly... how can he be this composed when it’s his first time holding a sword? Isn’t he afraid of death?’
Rian was afraid of death. That was why he trained endlessly—to forge courage.
’No matter how talented he is, he can’t match the years I’ve poured into training. So how...?’
Of course, Shirone knew it too.
As a novice, he couldn’t navigate a life-or-death duel as fluidly as Rian.
So he had prepared in his own way.
’If you can’t overcome fear, then understand it.’
He called it "Jumping off the Cliff."
If one didn’t imagine the next moment, anyone could leap from a cliff.
’Fear exists in the future. And the future is nothing but an illusion—it doesn’t exist yet.’
Like a tyrant with absolute power calmly dining while rebels stormed his gates, Shirone imagined himself standing at the edge of a cliff.
His right foot stepped forward into the void, his left following—and in his mind, his body hovered in midair.
’You haven’t fallen until you actually fall. You aren’t dead until you die.’
Understanding the nature of danger—this was why cold intellect could sometimes be more terrifying than a warrior’s bravery.
And with that icy clarity, Shirone’s Spirit Zone surged with unprecedented stability.
Rian: "Haaah!"
Rian was already upon him.
A flash of steel streaked across Shirone’s vision—a swordsmanship far beyond his own level.
’But... I can feel it.’
Through his heightened senses, Shirone perceived the sword’s trajectory and calmly leaned back.
His eyes remained open as he evaded, and shock flickered across Rian’s face.
’He’s tracking the blade?’
Even seasoned swordsmen couldn’t dodge a real sword by sight alone.
But the sword, too, was infinite.
As Rian’s attacks grew faster, gaps began appearing in Shirone’s perception.
A blade grazed his chest—his Spirit Zone shuddered violently.
Shirone’s heart sank.
’Damn it!’
At this rate, he’d lose.
But contrary to his expectations, Rian continued with sweeping, exaggerated strikes.
This allowed Shirone to predict the next trajectory and twist away, narrowly escaping death.
’Why is he...?’
A single slash to the flank would have ended it.
Yet Rian pressed on with broad movements, as if unaware of Shirone’s panic.
Only then did Shirone realize:
’His understanding of swordsmanship is shallower than I thought.’
Though skilled in execution, Rian lacked deeper insight into its essence.
’Then...’
Shirone adjusted his estimation of Rian’s ability.
Complacency was dangerous, but overestimating an enemy robbed one of counterattacking opportunities.
’Attack.’
The moment Shirone switched to offense, Rian faltered and retreated.
Rian: "Tch!"
Dozens of exchanges later, exhaustion set in—the tension of being on the defensive drained Shirone’s stamina rapidly.
’Damn it! This can’t be happening!’
Rian’s strikes were basic, yet—
’Why are they so hard to block? I can barely even see them!’
Suddenly, Rai’s face flashed in his mind.
That infuriating smirk from two years ago, when he’d disarmed Rian with one hand.
Rian: "Don’t mock me!"
Rian roared, charging forward.
Rian: "I will become the greatest swordsman in the world!"
Shirone was baffled.
While he admired Rian’s tenacity, this recklessness would only get him killed.
’Doesn’t he want to win? Why is he so stubborn? Does he even think?’
Then, in an instant—
’Huh?’
Shirone could no longer read Rian’s movements.
His emptied mind made his strikes unpredictable, chaotic.
Rian: "I won’t lose! I will surpass you!"
As Rian seized momentum, Shirone’s stamina hit its limit.
He had conserved energy as efficiently as possible, but the sheer difference in training was undeniable.
His sword felt heavier by the second.
Rian: "This ends now!"
Rian lunged, his longsword aimed to cleave Shirone’s jaw upward.
Shirone: "Ghk—!"
With the last of his strength, Shirone swung downward.
CLANG!
A sword spiraled into the air before embedding itself into the far wall.
Silence.
Amidst ragged breaths and locked gazes, Rian was the first to lower his eyes.
The tip of Shirone’s blade rested against his solar plexus.
’Right before impact...’
Shirone had twisted his wrist, striking Rian’s sword from below and knocking it skyward.
The force, combined with Rian’s exhaustion, had wrenched the weapon from his grip.
’How is this possible?’
This wasn’t a technique one could execute with mere confidence.
Only a mind honed to icy precision could decide victory like this.
Shirone didn’t relax.
Shirone: "Haah... haah..."
He wanted to collapse, but he couldn’t throw away the life he’d fought so hard to keep.
Then—
Rian: "Tch. I lost."
He admitted defeat without resistance.
Rian: "Ah, damn it. Lost again."
He scratched his head roughly, but the hostility had already vanished.
He’d trained to his limits and fought his hardest—there were no regrets left.
Rian: "You won. Kill me if you want—I’ve got nothing to say."
The childishness of the statement irritated Shirone more than anything.
Was it possible to be this immature?
Shirone: "Are you joking right now?"
Rian: "Huh?"
Shirone: "If I kill you, do you really think I’d get to live? How can you say something so absurd?"
Rian: "Absurd? We fought risking our lives, and I’m admitting defeat cleanly."
Shirone: "You were the only one risking your life! I was just fighting to survive! This whole duel was ridiculous from the start—you pinned a crime on me just because you didn’t want to train!"
Rian stiffened.
After such an intense battle, shouldn’t there at least be some lingering passion, if not camaraderie?
Rian: "Hey! Who’s pinning crimes on you? You were the one acting shady! Any decent person would’ve shown some loyalty in that situation!"
Shirone: "Loyalty? That’s what you call it?"
Shirone had held back until now, but with the immediate threat gone, his anger boiled over.
Shirone: "Did you ever once consider the pressure I’d face caught between the young master and the sword instructor? And you still asked me to cover for you?"
Rian: "Uh... well—"
Shirone: "If you were truly a man of loyalty, you’d have been ashamed to burden a mere servant and faced the instructor yourself. That would’ve been the noble, loyal thing to do."
Rian’s mouth snapped shut.
He didn’t argue or make excuses—Shirone could tell.
Rian wasn’t the type to lie. If he had nothing to say, he simply stayed silent.
But that only annoyed Shirone more. He gave up on lecturing and slumped down.
Shirone: "Haah... I almost died."
Rian studied him quietly.
The boy who had faced death’s terror and pushed him to the brink was gone.
’Who is he?’
He was undoubtedly a genius—but he wasn’t Rai.
Unlike his brother, who had disarmed Rian with a single contemptuous strike, this boy had fought with his entire being.
Rian: "Hey. What’s your name?"
Shirone looked up. From his seated position, Rian seemed even larger.
Shirone: "Arian Shirone."
Rian: "I’m Ozent Rian."
The idea of a noble and a commoner exchanging names was laughable, but what baffled Shirone more was—
Did Rian genuinely not know the name of his own family’s youngest son?
Before he could dwell on it, Rian stepped closer, forcing Shirone to tilt his head further back.
A hand the size of a pot lid thrust toward him.
Rian: "Let’s be friends. What do you say?"