171: Confirm the Past Life (2)
There was no such thing as a specific place you need, to live comfortably. And to not hesitate to ask what you donât know.
They were the village chiefâs words. He nodded his head in a manner that was neither cold nor warm.
Considering the treatment I have been receiving over the past 3 years, this was more than enough.
No one treated me warmly, the man who was the target of the clown.
â⊠those who live in such remote areas wonât mind me.â
A few kids would look at me from a distance. But I wouldn't care.
Upon entering an abandoned house, I unpacked and picked up my sword.
Three years ago, this would have been overwhelming to bear, but not now.
Swing, swing, and swing again.
I would keep swinging until I could release a stronger attack; Until I could slay the demons of the south.
Until then, I won't leave this place.
With burning resolve, the swinging of the sword continued.
Nothing changed, I continued to swing my sword, and the town was peaceful.
The only change was the disappearance of the kids who would stick their heads over the wall.
Maybe I was sad that my swordsmanship skill didnât change, but at least I didnât degrade.
I still wield my sword. There was nothing that changed enough for me to go out.
Thanks to the money I gave to the chief while moving in, the necessities for my life were being provided to me.
All I had to do was swing my sword.
It was embarrassing to even call it swordsmanship; it was just a simple repetitive action.
I couldnât help it. The rumors about me had already spread. Most swordsmen didnât want to anger the clown demon and refused to teach me swordsmanship.
But it didnât matter. I have now become a body that cannot live without wielding or swinging the sword.
Breathing out the hot pain in my body, I swung the sword again.
And with that, the illusion of the people who drove me out of my estate shattered.
I still swing the sword, and the townspeople no longer care about me.
Except for the man who was watching me a few days ago.
It didnât matter. Rather, I felt that I was fortunate.
As I watched the twilight approaching, I applied a lot of strength to my hand that was holding the great sword.
After a while, many people appeared from the darkness.
They all wore clown masks.
They started pointing their fingers at me.
Filthy bastards who were ordered by the devil!
If I make a fuss, then everyone will be in danger!
My sword⊠I couldnât let the devil know. I am sorry.
Just leave me alone. Did they think I am the Lord anymore?
I swung my sword at the ones which kept coming up.
Their heads were split, and limbs were torn off, but they said nothing.
The eyes behind the masks were disgusting.
I was exhausted and constantly moved my sword without failing, and then morning came.
Whether this the work of the clown devil, or someone else?
Either way, it was clear that I was slowly going crazy.
Nevertheless, I laughed. I was able to laugh after a long time.
My anger towards the people of my province who abandoned me.
Towards the swordsmen who turned me away.
And my hatred for the devil and the world.
I swung my sword until I collapsed from exhaustion.
Without realizing the passage of time, I continued.
Years have passed. I donât know exactly how much time has passed. I couldnât figure it out even if I tried.
There was something more important than that. My swordsmanship had changed.
Although it was the same as before, just vertical cuts, diagonal cuts, and horizontal cuts.
The illusions that didnât fall even after being hit three to four times before, now disappeared at once.
Satisfied, I kept swinging my sword.
I cut off the head of the vassal who threw me away.
The head of the woman who pointed her fingers at me.
The body of the hunter who didnât listen to me, and the waist of the swordsman who didnât want to teach me. I cut them all.
I never thought that Iâd be able to catch the clown. And I knew that from the beginning.
Such a thing would be impossible. I couldnât do something which even the heroes of the continent couldnât.
Yet, I laughed and smiled.
Yet another clown went down with a slash of my sword. And my gaze went for the face.
Was it the old man who pointed at me for thinking about my family?
Or the knight who looked at me with a cold expression?
As the figure came forward, the mask broke. And as I saw the face that came with it. I dropped the sword for the first time since I came to the village.
And I couldnât move for a long time.
Ugh, you donât have to look at me this way.
Another me was standing in front of me, ridiculing me.
Listening to the laughter-filled voice, there was one thing I could do.
My other selfâs head shattered at the attack.
No, years passed. I donât even know how many. A while after using the sword, I wasnât in the mood to count the years.
I just fought the endless stream of clowns that came after me, as well as the apparition of myself, both of which kept increasing.
It was overwhelming just to deal with them.
So, I just swung my sword every day.
Five to six clowns shattered at once, and ten more illusions fell with two slashes.
Yet, there was no end. The clowns just continued to appear.
Their appearances were no longer separated, with a distinction between day and night.
They appeared whenever there was twilight and shadows. Wherever there was darkness, the illusions bloomed, and they started ridiculing me.
Not being allowed to rest and feeling the unbearable anger, I swung my sword without a break.
A clear voice rang out from between the countless clowns. My gaze reflexively turned to the sound.
A youthful face with pure eyes.
It was a child who was looking at me with an innocent face and a flower in his hand, a face that had no mask.
The child didnât stay for long.
A woman ran in a hurry and grabbed the child.
As if she was afraid to make contact with me, she looked to the ground and bowed her head before disappearing.
And the door to her house shut tight as soon as they entered it, and I was back to being alone.
But strangely, I didnât feel alone even after they left.
I stared at the side where the child disappeared to, and then lowered my sight to look at the flower she left.
The fresh scent was there, and the eyes of the child appeared in my mind.
I thought about it for a long time, about when in the past I felt similar emotions? And when nothing came to mind, I picked up the sword again.
It was the first time such a thing had happened.
I didnât like it, but I was holding a sword. It was a look that didn't suit me, a crazed man living with a sword for more than 10 years.
Of course, contrary to my thoughts, my body moved. And soon, I took the pose that was ready to face the illusions.
However, they no longer came.
⊠and after a long time, I devoted myself to the sword with a sane mind.
It was much longer than the time it took to leave the estate and enter this village.
I swung my sword incessantly in the years, which seemed like maybe even 10 or 20 years.
The number of times the illusions came dropped, but they still sometimes came out at twilight and continued to mock me.
The clown mask, which constantly gave me drive no matter how bad it was, even if he was broken or cut, didnât give me inspiration anymore.
The reason I wasnât lonely wasnât because of the illusions.
It wasnât because of the coldness of the world which was pouring down on me.
And it wasnât because of the hatred I had for the world.
I removed my gaze away from the clown and closed my eyes.
One by one, I remembered what I had forgotten.
The expressions of my parents who died of illness when I was young.
The warm face of my wife, who cared for me with love.
My lovely son, who was born 2 years after our marriage, and the pure eyes he had.
My mind, which was filled with negative emotions, gradually regained its place as I recalled the gazes similar to the child who gave me a flower.
And the situation stayed.
Countless illusions and countless humans who corroded my life were speaking from their masks.
I took a deep breath and exhaled.
As I breathed the cold air, I felt my heart and head clear.
I moved slowly and steadily into the darkness, which was ridiculing me.
Fucking bastards. Why use the faces of people who did nothing wrong?
I heard the sound of my old self, who had his eyes over me.
But I passed by without cutting him.
An odd guy. Was it our fault his wife and son died? Although I was indecisive, I wanted to save at least one of them.
Another voice of mine was heard.
The whole time, I passed without swinging my sword.
An incomparable number of illusions stood in my way.
Eyes of clowns stained in anger and hatred.
I ignored all of it and kept a steady pace.
With each step, I felt the poison in my body fly away. I gained freedom from my old obsession.
And as I traveled through the darkness, the last place I reached at the end was an ugly place where human bones and flesh were spread around like carpet.
Someone was standing in the middle. This time it was the clown.
And this time, I just didnât want to pass by it.
My voice, which had been silent for a long time, reached its ear.
âIt is not the south, but I came.â
The voice of the clown devil was flustered and angry.
I laughed bitterly. Behind the mask, I could see that the expression was distorted.
When I let go of the malice and obsession I had against this world, neither the mask nor the darkness around could work on me.
The clown was something I didnât want to see.
I slashed the clown devilâs body as I swung my sword like lightning.
And at that moment, like a crystal formed after decades, it erupted into a silver-grey ray of light.
The clownâs counterattack collapsed, and his body, which was supposed to be as hard as iron, was damaged.
Behind the half-broken mask, the terrible-looking face of the clown distorted even more.
It had eyes similar to the hatred I had for this world.
But the devil didnât attack.
Rather, in fear, it went further into darkness and kept its distance.
I nodded and stepped forward with the beam of light refined like the steel in my hand, ready to stop it. No, it was something that I was trying to do.
I thought I was good. That my sword was brilliant, strong, and flawless, and my heart was strong and free from long wanderings.
A strong sense of confidence filled my heart as if I could overcome even the greatest devil out there.
However, my body, the body which had to deal with the devil, couldn't keep up.
My gaze turned to the blade of the sword.
Seeing my face with deep wrinkles, I knelt down in regret.
Relying on the sword, I stared at the darkness where the clown disappeared.
It wasnât because I was sad for the world.
It was because of the something that corrected me, who was stupid and engulfed in hatred, hoping to cause enormous damage to the world and the clown.
âMine wasnât a sword forged out of hatred and angerâŠâ
But rather, it was pure will contained in the flower that the child gave me.
The regret that I realized it so late was filling me.
I felt like life was running out.
It was hard to breathe and hard to think. And I was sad.
Although my body was insignificant, I wanted to convey what I had learned to someone.
So that, people who become like me wouldnât walk down the wrong path.
Knowing that I couldnât, I prayed that my wish would reach someone.
âEven if it is in vainâŠâ
It didnât matter if it was relayed as the last screams of a dying old man.
If somehow my present heart and mind could be conveyed to someone.
Not just him. Everyone seemed to have woken up, and were just looking somewhere blankly.
Judith had her head bowed down and was crying.
Lulu, Bratt Lloyd, Ilya Lindsay, and Kuvar were just sitting there absently.
Irene, looking at his precious friends, got up and walked out of the tent.
Gorha, still hadnât left his seat outside the tent, and Karakum looked at him.
Irene and Karakum looked at each other without saying a word.
Seeing that, Gorha was bewildered.
Irene Pareira, who had been looking at his opponent for a long time, said
âI would like a match.â