“Walt! The wall... it’s so... wall!”
Neneva shouted, her head poking out of the carriage window.
“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘so wall’?”
“I mean, it’s just so much wall! It’s way more impressive than the Royal Capital!”
Curiosity got the better of me, and I leaned out the opposite window. Just as she said, a massive, imposing wall loomed over us, dominating the horizon. It looked as heavy and solid as black iron, scarred by the remnants of countless sieges.
Anyone seeing it for the first time would either be struck dumb by its majesty or be reduced to shouting, “The wall... it's so... wall!”
The Asterion Sword Kingdom—the nation that boasted the greatest martial prowess among the City-states. The carriage driven by Graymond slowed as it approached the Main Gate.
Before long, the carriage came to a halt, and a gatekeeper lightly rapped on the cabin door. Neneva and I stepped outside with a smile.
Several carriages similar to ours were stopped in front of the gate. It was likely a queue for the Immigration Inspection.
“There are two ways to enter the Asterion Sword Kingdom. Either pay the entry fee, or demonstrate your ‘martial prowess’ and enter as a guest. Since there are three of you, only one needs to show their strength. What will it be?”
The gatekeeper was a bearded man with long hair tied back, looking every bit the veteran warrior. He eyed us with a sharp, glinting gaze that asked: Well? Are you going to step up or not?
I caught Graymond’s eye and gave a light wave of my hand. Graymond bowed his head respectfully.
“I’ll do it. Who’s my opponent?”
The gatekeeper smirked, his eyes narrowing.
“Me. Follow me.”
Turning on his heel with a swift, practiced motion, the man began to walk. There were no openings in his stride; even if someone struck from behind, I got the feeling he would react without breaking a sweat.
“Let’s do it here.”
The gatekeeper stopped at a spot along the city wall, a short distance from the Main Gate. Nearby, another guard was testing the martial skill of another traveler.
“Use the weapons leaning there. The blades have all been dulled. Even if you get hurt, we have Recovery Magic users on hand, so you won’t die.”
The gatekeeper picked up a longsword leaning against the wall and gave it a few practice swings to get a feel for the weight.
I opted for a dagger and a small buckler—the kind that strapped directly to the arm. I slid my left arm through the straps, tightening the belt until it was secure, and gripped the dagger in my right hand.
The gatekeeper had already finished his preparations, standing in a relaxed stance with his longsword. The wind caught his tied-back hair, making it dance.
As I took my place across from him, he shifted into a middle guard. His back was straight, his sword tip steady. There were no openings.
A signal to “start” was unnecessary. The battle had already begun.
I relaxed my muscles and leaned forward, swaying my weight from side to side. I kept the rhythm of the dagger’s tip slightly out of sync with my body, letting it flutter.
Silence fell. Then, a sharp gust of wind blew, making the gatekeeper’s hair flutter violently. In that instant—
“Hah!”
The gatekeeper lunged, raising his sword before bringing it down in a sharp, vertical arc. It was heavy, fast, and precise.
I positioned my buckler in the longsword’s path, exerting a small burst of force the moment the metal met. The longsword kept its momentum and struck the ground. In the same breath, I leaped to the side, breaking his line of sight.
As I vanished from his peripheral vision, I activated [Hiding Arts]. Masking my presence, I slipped around to his flank.
The gatekeeper swung his longsword in a horizontal sweep, relying on raw intuition, but the strike lacked the bite of his opener. I ducked beneath the blade and stepped in, thrusting my right hand forward to slide the tip of my dagger into a gap in his armor.
I felt a rib give way.
“Guh...”
The gatekeeper let out a sharp breath. Enduring the pain, he readjusted his stance and turned to face me squarely.
“Not bad, kid.”
His eyes were bloodshot. From the way he’d suddenly dropped the formalities, I could tell he was getting heated.
“You’re not bad yourself, old man.”
“I’m only in my twenties!!”
He unleashed a rough flurry of consecutive strikes. They were aggressive, but not impossible to read. Activating [Mindless Parry], I swayed like a willow in the wind, dodging and deflecting every flash of his blade.
“Kh...!”
The gatekeeper’s swings grew wider and more desperate. His speed was flagging, and openings began to appear between his strikes.
“Hah...!!”
He brought the sword down from a high overhead position with everything he had. I dodged it by a hair’s breadth, and the moment the blade bit into the dirt, I slammed the sole of my boot down onto the steel. The gatekeeper’s movement seized.
In that split second, I lunged forward and pressed the tip of my dagger against his throat.
“...Well?”
“...I yield.”
The gatekeeper let go of his sword. It fell to the earth with a dull thud.
“Wow! Walt, that was amazing! You actually looked kind of cool!”
“A magnificent display of skill.”
Neneva and Graymond, who had been watching from the sidelines, approached while clapping.
The frustration on the gatekeeper's face vanished instantly. He straightened his posture and gave a formal bow.
“O guest who has honed your martial prowess—I welcome you to the Asterion Sword Kingdom.”
“Much appreciated.”
When he looked up, the gatekeeper offered his hand. I took it, and we shared a firm handshake.
“You’re young, yet you fight like a veteran. Where did you learn to move like that?”
“I never had a specific master. I just picked it up while dealing with one thing after another.”
“I see. No wonder your style is so unconventional.”
Nodding in admiration, the gatekeeper rummaged through a pouch at his waist and held something out to me.
“This is the Mark of the Guest. Whenever you go out in the kingdom, make sure you’re wearing it. It’ll save you from any needless trouble.”
He handed me a Small Golden Sword Emblem. It had a pin on the back, meant to be attached to a cloak or tunic.
“Thank you.”
“I wish you a pleasant stay.”
Clutching his side, the gatekeeper headed toward the guardhouse. He was likely off to find a healer.
“I’m so jealous! Can I wear that emblem?”
“No way! I’m the one who earned it.”
“Aww, Walt’s being stingy again!”
“Quiet, you.”
While Neneva tried to snatch the emblem away, we passed through the massive gates of the Asterion Sword Kingdom. From every corner of the city, the ring of clashing steel and the rhythmic shouts of training echoed through the air.