The dinner for the night was already prepared, but unlike the previous evenings, the maids did not bring the food to my room. Instead, they politely asked me to accompany them to the grand dining hall, informing me that the king himself wished to personally thank me for saving the princess. I didn't question them further; I simply followed in silence as they guided me through the corridors of the castle.
To my surprise, it wasn't a large celebration. There were no guests, no musicians, no decorations — only the king seated at the far end of the long table, accompanied by two of his most trusted figures: Adviser Otsutsuki Yamato, a man whose calm gaze made him look like he knew everything happening within the kingdom, and Metthar Malley, the commander of the entire national army, a giant of a man whose presence alone could intimidate a battlefield.
What kind of celebration has only three people? I thought to myself. But this was supposedly a thanksgiving party for me, so I adjusted my posture, controlled my breath, and showed all the respect I had.
I stepped forward and greeted them with a bow. "Good evening, my lord… and respected commanders."
"It's fine," the king said with a gentle smile. "You may relax. Tonight is a party for you. Please, be seated."
The moment I sat down, the king clapped twice, and immediately the doors opened. Maids entered in two lines, carrying trays filled with food and alcohol. The arrangement was simple yet elegant, and as the feast was laid in front of us, everyone raised their hands in a specific gesture.
There was a ritual — a prayer to their God before eating.
I didn't understand it, but I followed exactly what they did, copying every small movement. The administrator looked at me curiously.
"You know the ritual?"
"No, sire," I answered honestly. "But it felt rude not to worship when everyone else is doing it."
They smiled and nodded, then explained to me that their God had protected this kingdom for more than a thousand years, and that prayer before meals was a tradition carried through generations. They told me not to ask further questions about the God's identity — since I was an outsider.
That didn't bother me. If I asked the princess later, she would definitely explain everything.
To shift the topic, I said, "I'm nineteen… and I don't drink. In my place, I'm not allowed until I'm twenty."
All three of them laughed loudly.
"Is that a rule in your land?" Metthar asked.
"In our kingdom, anyone above eighteen can drink freely. So don't overthink it. Enjoy."
I couldn't exactly say, It's strict in Japan.
But honestly, I wanted to taste alcohol at least once.
So, without further argument — and because I myself wanted to try — I took the first sip.
The party began smoothly after that. Conversation flowed, food was delicious, laughter echoed lightly across the hall. But since it was my first time drinking, I got drunk incredibly fast. The world started spinning, sounds merged with one another, and soon everything looked like it was moving on its own.
Eventually, the maids helped me to my room. The last thing I vaguely remember was the king's voice behind me:
"Good luck."
At that time I was too intoxicated to question what he meant, but the moment I heard it… a strange uneasiness filled my chest.
Trying to follow my instincts, I summoned all seven commanders, fourteen vice-commanders, and my right-hand man. They all materialized silently — loyal, disciplined, and ready — because they lived inside my heart and understood my emotions more than I understood myself.
They knelt around me without a word.
"Be alert," I commanded weakly.
Then I collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep instantly, my last thought being, Even if something happens… they are here. I have nothing to worry about.
Five hours passed.
It was 4 a.m. when I woke up suddenly, still feeling uneasy. My men were still kneeling — motionless like statues.
"The Sword Demon reports that nothing has occurred, my lord," my right-hand man said calmly. "No enemy presence. But… your troubled expression worries me."
"What did the king mean by saying 'good luck'…?" I muttered.
I needed water first. One of the bulky commanders rose silently and served me a glass, his massive hands surprisingly gentle.
With curiosity I asked, "Why don't they talk? I've never heard them speak before."
My right-hand man answered, "It is because you still lack the power to control us fully. If you regain even fifty percent of your strength… they will be able to speak once again. It's not that they don't want to speak — they simply cannot due to your low magic."
This wasn't the time to think about that.
"Forget it for now," I said. "Let's focus on the situation. Something is wrong."
"My lord, " my man said, "no matter who comes, even if we are at only ten percent of our true power… as long as we regenerate, we cannot be defeated."
Hearing that eased my chest a little.
But before I could answer — before the word "thanks" even left my mouth —
A soft whisper touched my ear:
"Good morning… traveler."
My eyes widened as I saw —
ALL of my soldiers' heads falling to the floor in one instant.
I froze.
What—?!
I felt a terrifying presence behind me — cold, sharp, merciless —
and the edge of a katana rested against my neck.
In the next second, the entire room erupted into chaos.
The man behind me appeared in front of me as if he had teleported — now wearing a royal warrior's uniform, elegant and deadly, like someone of unimaginably high status.
He opened his mouth casually:
"Allow me to introduce myself. It's not like you'll be able to talk about me after the next five mo—"
Before he could finish, all of my commanders — who had already regenerated before their heads even touched the ground — pointed their weapons at him with blinding speed.
The Sword Demon stepped forward, shielding me with his entire body.
My right-hand man growled,
"Who the hell are you?"
The man clicked his tongue.
"Hey now… isn't it rude to interrupt someone introducing himself?"
Silence filled the room like a suffocating fog.
Then he spoke with absolute confidence:
"I am Saigō Takamori.
Known as the God's Sword.
Or, if you prefer—
the greatest swordsman to ever exist."
Pin-drop silence.
Even the air seemed to freeze.
The Sword Demon's voice darkened.
"Since when did my clan begin serving another… instead of ruling kingdoms?"
Saigō lifted an eyebrow.
"I don't know who you are, demon boy. You talk like you know everything. And your 'traveler' master doesn't look like a traveler either. You all seem weak… but the way you hold your weapons, your eyes — you've survived countless battles. Interesting. Very interesting."
Confusion hit me harder than fear.
Clan? Sword Demon? Greatest swordsman in history??
Just as I tried to process it, my right-hand man spoke with a firm voice:
"I am (name unrevealed)…
known as the Demon Sword —
the greatest swordsman in all of recorded history."
Saigō's eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Oh? So you're the one. Who would've thought I'd meet my ancestor in such a situation?"
Then, with a twisted smile, he added:
"For the last thousand years, there have been rumors…
Rumors that (name unrevealed) was revived right after death.
But to think he would return as this weakling…"
He laughed softly.
"Relax. I won't kill you all.
You regenerate — I can cut you a million times if I want, it's no problem for me."
He tilted his head, smirking.
"But shouldn't you be worrying more…
about your master… whose throat…"
In one motion — faster than lightning —
his katana sliced across my neck.
"…I just cut open?"
Blood sprayed.
Darkness swallowed my vision.
To be continued…