EPISODE 40: Departing for the South

Time flowed like water. Before anyone could fully feel it, almost a full week had passed since the life-and-death battle between Zenoda and his mother at the Kaigan training camp. Over those remaining days of rest, rather than relaxing, Zenoda spent most of his time alone at the cliff's edge overlooking the sea.

He was slowly training himself to adapt to the Iado sword his mother had given him. Although with his divine-level physical strength and reflexes he could control any weapon with ease, Zenoda still felt unfamiliar with this one. The core difficulty lay in the weapon's own mechanics.

Unlike his long katana whose sheath was fixed rigidly at his belt, the Iado sword was designed for extreme close-range combat. Its sheath was not anchored — it had to be held continuously and in full by the left hand. The hallmark of Iado swordsmanship — drawing the blade with lightning speed and resheathing it into the freely held scabbard — kept causing Zenoda to overshoot, the sheath slipping from his grip.

Shring. Click... Shring. Click...

Zenoda continued drilling the draw-sheathe motion repeatedly under the open sun.

"Zenoda."

A voice broke through his concentration. He stopped his sword motion and turned.

Elara had just arrived. The Princess of Koreson looked nothing like the word "elegant" described. Her face was soaked with sweat, her white hair tied back hastily, and her training clothes were dirty with dust and earth. She had only just taken a break from Garrick Anderstone's relentless "Spartan" physical training session.

Elara walked toward Zenoda, her sharp eyes landing on the new weapon in his hand. She was curious.

"That sword..." Elara said, wiping sweat from her brow. "That doesn't look like the white katana you usually carry. Where did you get that shorter sword?"

Zenoda raised the Iado blade, letting the sunlight catch its dark surface. "Oh, this... it's a birthday gift from my mother."

"Ohhhhhh..." Elara nodded slowly, her eyes staying fixed on the weapon.

She studied every angle of the sword. An Iado blade entirely in deep black — the blade, handle, and sheath all a unified, absolute darkness. The design was extraordinarily elegant yet radiated a dense killing aura, the exact opposite in every way of Zenoda's primary katana with its sacred silver-white coloring. The combination of black and white seemed, strangely, to suit Zenoda perfectly.

The fighter's blood that Garrick had just fired up came boiling through Elara's veins. She rotated her crystal magic staff in her right hand.

"In that case... let's duel," Elara challenged suddenly.

Zenoda, who had just been about to sit down and rest, stared blankly. "Huh?"

Yes — the challenge came out of Elara's mouth just like that, without a moment's hesitation. Before Zenoda could decline, she had already stepped back, establishing a safe distance of about fifteen meters, and taken her spell stance.

Because the Princess had challenged him directly, Zenoda could only sigh in mild confusion as he stepped onto a flatter section of ground. He began preparing his stance. But unlike the katana whose sheath was stable at his hip, the Iado required the left hand to hold the sheath while the right hand readied at the grip — making Zenoda's stance feel somewhat awkward and unnatural.

"Alright, I'm moving!" Elara announced as a warning.

"Ehhhhhhh?!"

Zenoda was still working out the right balance position. But his surprise transformed rapidly into genuine admiration as he watched Elara's fighting style — which had changed completely and dramatically.

Elara was no longer standing still to cast long incantations. As she charged forward, her left hand moved quickly, manipulating mana in the air without any spoken spell — chantless.

Shing. Shing. Shing.

Three enormous ice lances materialized in the air and launched toward Zenoda at tremendous speed.

Responding to the lethal attack, Zenoda drew his Iado by reflex. Clang. Clang. He intercepted the first two ice lances and shattered them into snow fragments. But because he wasn't yet accustomed to the lighter weight of the new weapon, Zenoda's draw came slightly faster than his mortal calculation accounted for.

One shard from the third lance broke through his guard and grazed his left side.

"Ugh!" Zenoda stumbled slightly, pressing a hand to his left flank where the ice shard's cut burned cold and sharp.

But at the same moment, while Zenoda had been focused on defending, Elara had closed the distance significantly. Zenoda was genuinely surprised — this aggressive attacking pattern from a long-range mage was entirely outside his predictions. Elara had cast away her fear of close combat, thanks to Garrick's physical conditioning.

When only three meters remained between them, Elara spun her staff.

"Zero Laser!"

A dense ice laser of absolute sub-zero temperature fired in a straight line toward Zenoda's chest.

With his lightning reflex, Zenoda tilted his body, drew the Iado, and sliced through the energy beam precisely, splitting it into two streams that passed on either side of him.

But as Zenoda was focused on splitting the laser, cold crept in from below his feet.

Without warning, a massive ice block erupted from the earth beneath where Zenoda stood, growing with rapid upward speed with the clear intent to encase and freeze his entire body solid.

Zenoda recognized the layered trap technique and his eyes went wide. He had no choice — he drove hard off his feet and leaped into the air to escape the encasing ice. But the sudden jump, combined with his still-clumsy left hand, caused the Iado's sheath to slip free from his grip and fall to the ground below.

Airborne and without footing, Zenoda glanced down. Elara had closed her eyes, genuinely focusing on chanting a finishing technique with her staff raised toward the sky.

Seeing his opponent's guard open, Zenoda didn't waste the opportunity. He used aerial footing magic to redirect his dive sharply downward. Arriving below, he immediately pressed the tip of his black Iado blade a few centimeters from Elara's throat.

Zenoda smiled with full confidence of victory. "I'd say the result is pretty clear."

Elara opened her eyes and looked at Zenoda without a trace of fear. She actually smiled sideways.

"Yes. Very clear," Elara replied calmly.

Suddenly, Zenoda felt an intensely cold sensation pressing in from his right and left simultaneously. He glanced from the corners of his eyes — and his breath caught.

At that same moment, a razor-sharp ice blade and his own dropped Iado sheath were now crossed directly against the left and right sides of his throat.

Zenoda turned slowly — and found that what was holding those weapons against his neck from behind was the Ice Queen Spirit, Elara's winged Familiar. While Elara had appeared to be focusing on her incantation, she had only been drawing Zenoda's attention — while her Familiar had moved invisibly to retrieve the dropped sheath and execute a blind-angle attack.

The ice blade and the black sheath pressed cold against the skin of Zenoda's neck. In a real fight, his head would already be separated from his body.

Zenoda withdrew his sword. His eyes went wide for a moment — and then he laughed quietly. He was genuinely amazed. In just one week, Elara had developed at a remarkable pace. The girl could chain spell sequences in far shorter casting windows, was willing to engage in close-range combat, and on top of that, she had used a double-illusion tactic in coordination with her Familiar to deceive him with exceptional precision.

Elara lowered her magic staff, her face radiating enormous pride. Her Ice Queen Spirit Familiar faded gently back to the spirit realm.

"With this, the debt of my loss from our very first training match at the Academy is fully repaid," Elara said with a satisfied smile, placing one hand on her hip. "I win this time, Blanco."

Zenoda sheathed his Iado with a sincere smile — a genuinely rare expression from him. For the first time in his entire existence on Earth, he acknowledged his defeat with straightforward sportsmanship, without any qualifier.

"Yes. You were impressive. You win this one," Zenoda said.

Hearing such a readily given acknowledgment, Elara actually felt slightly suspicious. She narrowed her eyes. "Ehh? You're not going to make excuses like most ego-driven men would? Something like you losing because your mental state wasn't stable after the fight with your mother, or because you aren't used to your new sword yet?"

Zenoda shook his head without hesitation. His eyes held the wisdom of an ancient past.

"No," Zenoda answered. "A loss is a loss. In a real battlefield, an enemy will never wait for you to explain yourself, find a more comfortable position, or get your weapon ready before cutting your throat. A defeat caused by unpreparedness is the fighter's own fault, and only theirs."

Hearing a philosophy that mature and uncompromising, Elara's respect for this young man grew another degree.

"Alright. I accept this victory," Elara said with pride, turning to continue her training.

After that enlightening duel, Zenoda walked to the grassy edge of the field and sat cross-legged to rest briefly. He leaned his back against a shady tree.

His eyes swept toward the center of the field. There, the three clownish nobles — Cedric, Valerius, and Agru — were still pushing through physical training with Garrick. Their expensive clothes were wrecked, their faces covered in mud and sweat — but none of them were giving up. Agru was carrying a heavy boulder, Valerius was swinging a wooden sword until his hands bled, and Cedric was conditioning his spell endurance under weighted pressure.

Watching that sight, Zenoda murmured inwardly.

(Huhhhh... they've all been working incredibly hard,) Zenoda thought, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. (Even Elara can now analyze my weaknesses and attack patterns remarkably well. Well... even though I wasn't entirely serious and was still holding back power, their survival instincts have grown enormously.)

Zenoda closed his eyes and let the Kaigan sea breeze wash over him.

(Honestly, when we were back at the Academy, I had serious doubts about them and was sometimes thoroughly done with their behavior. But it seems... with the experience in the Crimson Forest and a bit of Uncle Garrick's hell-training here, they've developed into fighters who are genuinely strong and dependable. At least, on the journey to the Southern Continent... I can trust them to guard my back. Rather than thinking of them as burdens I need to protect, I should see them as fellow warriors.)

Time moved and afternoon arrived. The sun began tilting toward the western horizon, turning the sky into shades of orange.

At the time he had promised, Zenoda rose from his training spot and strolled casually toward the center of the village. He made his way to Uncle Morlak's blacksmith workshop.

Arriving at the storefront filled with iron tools, Zenoda greeted the dwarf who was sending up curls of tobacco smoke from his pipe.

"Good afternoon, Uncle Morlak," Zenoda said.

Morlak turned and smiled broadly. "Oh! Yes, good afternoon, young Master! Have you come to collect your special order from last time?"

"Yes," Zenoda nodded.

Zenoda had, in fact, placed an order for a custom item he had designed since his very first day back in the village.

Morlak entered the back room and returned carrying a wooden box. He opened it, revealing the contents. Inside were ten leather backpacks made from black monster hide. Each was compact and slim — easy to carry on one's back or hold one-handed.

"I'll be honest with you, young Master," Morlak said, setting one bag on the table. "This order was considerable in quantity and extremely complex in nature. Even I, as a veteran dwarf craftsman, wasn't confident I could complete it in one week. But thanks to Sister Niyana's assistance in inscribing the stabilization enchantments, the work was finished right on time before your departure."

Morlak patted the leather bag proudly. "These are storage packs fitted with high-tier Spatial Magic. Put simply, the invisible storage space inside each bag is extraordinarily large."

Zenoda picked one up and tested its weight. Remarkably light. "How large exactly?"

"Large enough that you won't be complaining about storage space for logistics, spare tents, or even a disassembled carriage. Capacity equivalent to a full room of a house," Morlak explained. "Achieving something this complex was made possible because you provided an example blueprint — that small bag you bought here — as the initial design reference."

Zenoda smiled with satisfaction. The logistics problem for their long voyage had been elegantly resolved.

"Excellent. This is perfect. Thank you very much for the hard work, Uncle Morlak," Zenoda said, handing over a pouch of coins as payment.

After settling his business, Zenoda carried the ten bags back to his home to pack his personal belongings and rest.

That morning, sea mist still blanketed the coast of Kaigan Village. But the village harbor was already filled with activity. A large royal sailing ship was docked magnificently at the pier, ready to cut across the ocean.

Zenoda had prepared everything. He stepped out of the warm wooden house. At the front door, Brunt — usually so stoic and steady — couldn't hold back his tears. He embraced his son tightly before they walked together toward the pier.

Arriving at the harbor, Zenoda joined his group who was already waiting. He distributed his final gift.

"Take these," Zenoda said, handing out all ten Spatial Storage bags to everyone who would be departing with him: Elara, Cedric, Valerius, Agru, Faizura, Master Vivaldi, Karham, Linaya, Ziryal, and Annesia.

"These are dimensional storage packs," Zenoda explained. "Put all your luggage, spare weapons, and travel cases inside so our movement won't be hampered by weight during our time in the Southern Continent."

Everyone was stunned and very grateful. They immediately moved their mountainous luggage into the small bags with ease.

Once logistics were settled, the neatly uniformed captain of the royal naval vessel descended from the deck and saluted Master Vivaldi.

"Master Vivaldi, the anchor has been raised. The ship is ready to sail at your command," the Captain reported.

Vivaldi nodded firmly. "Very well. Everyone — board!"

One by one, the group began crossing the wooden gangplank and stepping onto the ship. The sea wind blew with strength, snapping the Koreson royal banner against its mast.

It was Zenoda's turn — he was the last to board. Just as he was about to place his foot on the gangplank, someone collided with him from behind.

Two arms — deeply gentle yet radiating warmth beyond any description — wrapped around his waist from behind. Someone was pressing against his back and holding him with fierce tightness, as though refusing to let go.

Zenoda recognized that warmth instantly. His chest tightened.

"Mother...?" Zenoda whispered quietly, his hand reaching to touch the arms around him. He moved to turn.

"Don't turn around," Mirida's voice came, trembling badly, mixed with quietly suppressed sobs against his back.

Zenoda went still. He understood immediately. His mother was hugging him from behind precisely so he couldn't see her face. She didn't want Zenoda to see her tears fall — didn't want her weakness to erode his resolve. She was holding him from behind so she herself could find the strength to accept the departure of her only son into a place of war.

Zenoda's hand closed around his mother's for a few seconds — sending gratitude without words.

After the long, tight embrace finally released slowly, Zenoda steeled his heart. Without turning even slightly, he stepped onto the gangplank and walked onto the ship's deck.

Once on the deck as the ship began slowly pulling away from the pier, Zenoda turned his head just slightly to the right. He looked at his mother's figure standing at the pier's edge, one hand pressed over her mouth as she held back her tears, Brunt's arm around her shoulders.

Zenoda smiled, his eyes carrying a resolve as hard as steel.

"I will keep my promise, Mother," Zenoda murmured quietly into the sea wind. "I will come back safely."

The ship began cutting through the waves. At the pier, the sound of farewell calls and waving hands from Uncle Garrick, Sister Niyana, Yuima, and all of Kaigan Village's residents rang out together, growing gradually quieter as the distance widened.

Zenoda stood at the stern, looking straight toward the open ocean that lay ahead of them.

On the main deck, the nobles who had just been freed from their Garrick-inflicted suffering were stretching their limbs.

"Huhhhh... finally," Cedric groaned, collapsing into a deck chair. "At least we can have a proper rest away from Uncle Garrick's hellish training."

Valerius massaged his stiff shoulders. "Yeah. I can genuinely feel the ache and pain in every single nerve in my body. I feel like I'm falling apart."

Agru nodded in weary agreement. "Honestly, same. I just want to sleep for the entire voyage."

While his three companions were voicing their complaints, Elara quietly left them behind. The snow-haired girl walked toward the bow of the ship, approaching Zenoda who was gazing at the ocean horizon.

The sea wind caught their robes. Elara stood beside Zenoda, resting both hands on the ship's railing.

"Zenoda," Elara called, her voice calm and full of determination.

"Hmm?" Zenoda answered without turning.

Elara looked straight at the boundless sea stretching before them. Her eyes reflected the responsibility of a future leader.

"What lies ahead of us is going to be very dangerous. I understand that the real battle started from the second this ship set sail," Elara said firmly. "I don't know when or where the Purple Snake syndicate will ambush us out on this ocean. That's why... I ask for your cooperation, Zenoda Blanco. Your back is in our hands, and we will guard it."

Hearing that sincere request completely free of noble ego, Zenoda closed his eyes. The corner of his lips pulled into a quiet smile. He turned to look at her.

"Hmm. Your cooperation is appreciated as well, Your Highness," Zenoda answered formally, bowing his head with deliberate stiffness.

At the intentionally rigid formality in that tone, Elara clicked her tongue in irritation and elbowed his arm.

"Heh, there's that stiffness of yours again! Just call me Elara!" Elara grumbled with a pouting face that was hiding a laugh.

"Quiet. You're loud," Zenoda replied shortly, crossing his arms, enjoying the small bickering that was melting the tension between them.

A large wave struck the bow of the ship, spraying salt water across their faces. The royal sails filled to their full breadth. The long voyage across the open ocean — cutting through the mystery of the Demon's Ash, and sailing toward the brutal sword traditions of the Southern Continent — had officially begun.

A journey led by ten courageous mortals, and one world anomaly who was hiding the identity of a god.