Every winter, a massive snowstorm raged across the northern continent.
Because of this, most people considered the region untouchable, and it was rare to see even a single traveler passing through.
But—
Step. Step.
Only the swordsmen of the House of Laingraim refused to yield to mere forces of nature.
They continued to move, patrol, and fulfill their duties as if nothing had changed.
In particular, those stationed on the very frontlines of the Laingraim Swordmaster Clan endured the merciless weather with their entire bodies, day after day.
"Ugh, it's cold. Freezing cold. And nothing's happening today either. Not like anyone's going to visit in this weather…"
A Laingraim swordsman exhaled a thick cloud of white breath as he spoke. His senior shook his head lightly.
"If someone's wandering around in this kind of weather, they'd have to be crazy. Who in their right mind would come here?"
"Still, didn't someone pass through just the other day?"
"Oh, you mean the kid who got the summons?"
"Yes. He looked pretty young, but his endurance was impressive. Usually, even the selected recruits shiver and complain when assigned to this region."
"True, he did seem different from an ordinary child. Otherwise, why would Lord Seol-Am himself have escorted him here?"
The senior swordsman nodded at his junior's words.
"It was my first time seeing the Lord of Seol-Am up close. His charisma is exactly as the rumors say…"
"There's a reason he's called one of the Eleven Wall-Guarding Swords (壁護十一劍) of the North."
The Eleven Wall-Guarding Swords.
They were the eleven swordsmen of Laingraim personally acknowledged by Grand Duke Damon of the North.
"I've seen many powerful figures while guarding this gate, but Lord Seol-Am felt entirely different. A whole different league."
"Oh? How so?"
"Just the atmosphere around him, the aura he gave off—it was like standing before a blade honed to a razor's edge."
The younger man's eyes shone as he spoke, and the senior asked in a subtle tone,
"Do you even know why the Seol-Am Division is called the 'Shadow of the Clan'?"
"No, sir. I just assumed that's what the seniors called them."
"From long ago, Seol-Am has been a special unit under direct command of the clan head, taking on missions that were nearly impossible. If you ever get the chance, learn about their achievements—you'll be in awe."
"Really?"
"Yes. Which is why their leader could never be an ordinary man."
"Ha, so I was right after all!"
Amused by his junior's admiration, the senior chuckled as he stroked his sword.
"We need to train harder too. After all, the Wall-Guarding Eleven Swords are all outsiders, not of the Laingraim bloodline."
Indeed, none of the Eleven bore the Laingraim family name.
To the rank-and-file swordsmen, they were figures of great respect and admiration—outsiders who had risen to the very top.
"Come on, do you really think that's possible? I've been a Laingraim swordsman for over ten years, and I'm still only at Three Knots."
He pointed to the three strands of red thread on his shoulder and sighed.
The senior laughed and replied.
"Of course. Those in the Wall-Guarding Eleven are all at least Seven Knots and above. We'd need another hundred years of training to catch up. Hahaha."
"Ugh, that's not funny at all. Stop laughing!"
"Really?"
As they exchanged banter, the senior's tone shifted, growing serious.
"Want to hear a story that's actually interesting?"
"Huh? A story?"
"This is something I heard from the old veterans who used to guard this gate…"
"What is it? Why so much suspense?"
His junior, still sulking from the earlier joke, grumbled impatiently. The senior quickly continued.
"Recruits brought in through external summons are extremely rare, you know?"
"That's true. I've been here over ten years, and I've only seen that happen maybe once or twice."
The younger swordsman nodded.
"And there's a legend about them," the senior said, lowering his voice.
"Legend?"
"Most of those summoned from outside… not all, but many of them end up shocking the clan. Whether for good or ill. Some were abnormally powerful, others possessed strange and extraordinary talents. They always stirred things up."
"Hmm… so you're saying that kid from the other day might…?"
The junior pictured the boy they had seen, and the senior smirked.
"Didn't you notice something unusual about his eyes?"
"Eh, come on. That's nonsense. Probably just a coincidence."
Still doubtful, the junior frowned. But the senior pressed on, voice firm.
"Don't believe me? The current First Seat of the Wall-Guarding Eleven Swords—he was also one of those summoned from outside."
"What? Really?"
"Ha! You don't know anything, do you?"
The senior clicked his tongue and wagged a finger.
The junior swordsman, however, recalled the boy that Lord Seol-Am had brought.
Skin pale as snow… crimson eyes… black hair…
And on his back, a massive black sword far too large for his frame.
No way. There's no way that frail-looking kid could…
He shook his head firmly, refusing to believe it.
The entire Laingraim domain lay under the snowstorm's grip.
Wow… it's so warm.
But as Ruin stepped once more into the Laingraim main stronghold, Banapen, that was all he could think.
The surrounding lands had been freezing, blasted by merciless wind, bone-chilling cold, and endless snowfall.
Yet here—here it was so warm that he could smell the faint fragrance of flowers in the air.
At that moment—
[That's right. This is exactly why Belion built his residence here. The bastard hated the cold more than death itself.]
The sword spirit spoke of Belion, the founding lord of Laingraim.
Ruin tilted his head.
But why is it only warm here? Everywhere else was freezing…
[Who knows. It's always been this way.]
Some claimed it was the clan's blessing. Others believed a Laingraim of old had struck a pact with a spirit of weather.
But the truth—that Banapen alone escaped the snowstorm's fury—remained unknown to all.
No wonder it's called one of the Ten Great Mysteries of the continent.
Drawing on the knowledge from No. 1872's memories, Ruin reflected as his gaze fell upon the grand gates ahead.
Three years. Exactly three years since I last stood here.
The same elite guards, the same towering fortress walls, the same magnificent gates.
Having claimed the sword spirit Heuk-Yeong at the Sword Trial, Ruin had now returned to Laingraim.
And then—
Fwoosh!
"Halt. State your business."
The gatekeeper blocked his path with a firm tone.
"I have a summons."
Lord Seol-Am Freon Zircasin, who had escorted Ruin here, had parted ways at the gates—he was far too busy to linger.
So Ruin handed over the summons he had received.
"Hmm…"
The gatekeeper examined the document with an intimidating air, then asked,
"Your name?"
"Ruin Laingraim."
"…Confirmed."
Nodding, the gatekeeper stepped aside.
Boom!
The great black gates opened with a heavy rumble.
As Ruin entered, his eyes widened once more at the grandeur of the main manor.
Still breathtaking, even now.
Last time, he had been too rushed to take it all in. Now, the full splendor unfolded before him.
Lavish decorations and priceless paintings.
A neatly maintained garden and lake.
Purple carpets, white marble staircases, golden-embroidered ceilings.
Jewels glittering, radiant sculptures gleaming.
The Laingraim stronghold, Banapen—home of one of the Four Great Houses and the greatest sword clan on the continent—was nothing short of paradise.
And then—
"Why are you standing there with your mouth hanging open like some country bumpkin?"
A familiar voice rang out. Ruin turned his head.
There stood a strikingly beautiful girl with golden hair.
"Meilin?"
"Oh, you remembered?!"
Meilin's eyes lit up as she ran over and held out her hand.
"Anyway, welcome back to Banapen, Ruin!"
Ruin glanced at her hand for a moment.
Though she looked every bit the refined noble lady, her palm bore rough calluses.
She must have been training hard.
Her aura felt far steadier than before.
[Ah, yes. The fiery young miss who once quarreled with you?]
The sword spirit chuckled.
It wasn't a quarrel. We just exchanged a few words.
[Did she not call you rude to your face? Hah! A sharp girl indeed. Just like Belion himself—recognized your arrogance in an instant.]
The spirit laughed. Ruin only shook his head and fixed his gaze on the golden-haired girl.
And then—
Name: Meilin Laingraim
True Name: None
Title: (Unable to interpret)
Race: Human
Trait: Indomitable Will, (Unable to interpret)
Current Abilities: Swordsmanship (Intermediate), (Unable to interpret), (Unable to interpret)
Potential Abilities: (Unable to interpret), (Unable to interpret), (Unable to interpret)
Current Emotions: Joy, Interest, Delight, Happiness
Due to the limits of Insight, some details cannot be interpreted.
Indomitable Will?
Focusing on the trait, Ruin read its description.
Indomitable Will: Possesses a will that cannot be broken under any circumstance. (Greatly increases mental fortitude and resistance to magic.)
"Hey, Ruin. Why are you staring at me like that? Don't tell me—you've fallen for me? Well, I have grown prettier, haven't I? Hehe."
She flipped her golden hair back with a smirk. Ruin shook his head.
"Not at all."
"I know, I was joking. Ugh, but did you have to shoot me down so coldly?!"
She pouted loudly, and Ruin chuckled.
"So, are you here to push your opinions on me again?"
"What? Wait, don't tell me you've been holding onto that all this time?!"
Meilin gawked at him. Ruin shrugged casually.
"Kidding. Just a joke."
"…."
For a moment she glared at him, then suddenly—
"Pfft!"
She burst out laughing.
"I thought you were just a self-absorbed old man in a kid's body, but you've changed a lot."
Though their time together had only been a few days around the Sword Trial, Ruin had left a lasting impression on her.
"So, did you come prepared?"
"Prepared?"
"We're about to enter the training hall. Don't you know how brutal the Laingraim training is? It's hell itself!"
"So what?"
"Huh?"
"Meilin, don't tell me you're the kind of coward who runs from training just because it's tough."
"…."
Her eyebrow twitched, then rose sharply.
"You're still as rude as ever."
Grinding her teeth, she glared—but then smiled faintly.
"Good. That's the Ruin Laingraim I know."
She might not like his arrogance and sharp tongue, but—
He's my lifesaver.
She could never forget the one who had saved her from such a foolish death.
"Come on, let's go. Everyone's waiting."
She reached out her hand again, her voice ringing with determination.
From now on, she would be one of the comrades enduring the hellish Laingraim training alongside Ruin.
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T/N:
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