"To be honest, I've already written the letter, and she's probably seen it by now. The atmosphere's been set. If I went back now... it'd feel super awkward."
Using spatial teleportation to return with the carriage to the place where he'd first met Ghislaine, Ash mused alone about the past. Though he felt the area was a bit too quiet, he still spoke to himself to keep from turning back.
And he did indeed manage it. On that vast, boundless land, Ash didn't dwell on the past. He sat alone on the jolting carriage as it traveled onward.
All around was endless desolation, only the sound of hooves and the rattle of wheels echoing monotonously in the silence.
The wheel tracks trailed behind him like the long tail of his lonely journey, dragging through this empty world, bearing witness to his solitude.
By day, sunlight poured down without reserve but couldn't dispel the faint loneliness clinging to his heart.
Ash would sometimes hold a thick magic tome, immersing himself in its mysterious, obscure text; other times he'd draw his longsword and practice combat techniques in open spaces during the carriage's slow progress, the blade slicing through the air with a soft whistle, as if joining him in voicing the journey's solitude.
Each night, stars filled the sky like brilliant gems embedded in a vast black curtain, but such magnificent scenery only seemed to add to his loneliness.
He'd light a small campfire and continue reading by its light, letting the leaping flames illuminate his face, shifting shadows dancing across his features.
The silence around him was frightening; the occasional cry of an owl only deepened the stillness.
And so the days passed, the carriage moving unhurriedly across the land, as if time itself had slowed on this monotonous journey.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, the seasons turned.
He saw new shoots emerge from the earth in spring, felt the scorching heat of summer's sun baking the land, and experienced the desolation of autumn's bleak wind carrying withered yellow leaves swirling through the air.
And now, winter's chill tightly enveloped him, as if trying to freeze him solid in this solitude.
After more than half a year of long, lonely, yet ordinary days, he finally reached his original destination, the westernmost tip of the northern lands, the place called the Sword Sanctum/Holy Land of Swords.
The scene before him was like a painting painted with ice and snow, yet carried a stern, harsh aura.
The perennial white snow covered the entire land like a thick white blanket, a vast expanse of white as far as the eye could see.
The biting wind howled like sharp blades, yet even in such harsh conditions, this place always gathered a group of swordsmen full of dreams and hope.
This land bore a heavy history of war and conquest. Though it was now the headquarters of the Sword God Style, it had once been a stronghold of the Water God Style in ages past.
Just a hundred years ago, the Water God and Sword God of that era fought a duel, and the result was that this land changed hands, claimed by the Water God of that generation.
But fortunes reversed, and later another Sword God emerged, defeating the Water God with extraordinary swordsmanship, returning the Sanctum to the Sword God Style's control.
For those ambitious swordsmen who yearned to reach the peak of swordsmanship, who dreamed of receiving personal instruction from the strongest swordsman, or even harbored the extravagant hope of defeating the strongest swordsman through luck and taking their place, this place was undoubtedly the object of their aspirations, a holy land they must visit at least once in their lives.
Ash's goal was more straightforward: he wanted to spar and obtain the Sword God's memories, and also... to acquire the Sword God Style's records about the first Sword God.
Because according to Ghislaine, the Sword God Style's ultimate technique, the Light Blade, was actually the result of successive Sword Gods gradually clarifying the mysteries, principles, and training methods of the first Sword God's techniques, while also simplifying them into a form that normal humans could practice.
But for him, human limits meant nothing. He had already learned the Light Blade, then integrated it with the original version, and further optimized it over the years with what he had learned, much like what the successive Sword Gods had done.
And his swordsmanship, which he'd been researching on his own all these years, had hit a bottleneck. He needed to integrate further and optimize his techniques.
He was very much looking forward to seeing how this ultimate technique, created by humans to fight against Demon Gods and Dragon Tribes, turning weakness into strength, would develop.
———
Though it was called the Sword Sanctum, when first entering it looked no different from an ordinary town.
There were inns, weapon shops, and an adventurer's guild. As he drove the carriage through the streets, Ash even saw adventurers and merchants.
The only special thing was that everyone here was a Sword God Style swordsman. Even a slender-looking girl might have strength surpassing ordinary adventurers, and everyone wore dojo uniforms that looked freezing cold as they walked through the snow.
Of course, by now he also knew that this wasn't due to any special constitution; it was purely because Sword God Style required swift movement. No matter how cold it got, they couldn't wear heavy clothing, or they'd lose their greatest advantage.
"Occasionally some people don't make it to the doctor in time and freeze stiff or to death in the middle of the night... I feel like their obsession with reducing weight has reached an interesting level."
Ash observed the people around him, joking to himself, and ignored the dojos and inns, heading straight deeper into the snowy landscape.
Before long, he left the snow-covered town behind and followed a valley-like path to the deepest central point, a large dojo surrounded by walls at the entrance, the heart of the Sword Sanctum, and also the main dojo of the Sword God Style headquarters.
Just as Ash stepped down from the carriage, a man appeared from inside, hand resting warily on the sword at his waist:
"Who are you? What business do you have here?"
"My name is Ash. I've come to have a match with the Sword God, Gal Farion."
"Is that so? Then come at me first."
There were far too many people who came to visit the Sword God, wanting to test their skills or try their luck at beating him. By now there was nothing surprising about it, and it was the duty of disciples like them to turn such people away.
So after sizing Ash up, the man said nothing more and immediately took a fighting stance.
"A fight so soon? Well... this is straightforward and clean, saves trouble. I don't mind," Ash casually jumped down from the carriage, not even reaching for his sword hilt, and casually beckoned.
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