A Graveyard of Borrowed Swords

Seo-Jun opened his dark eyes to a quiet world. The first thing he felt was the gentle mountain wind. It carried the faint, sweet smell of white plum blossoms through the air.

For a brief moment, he simply stood there in total silence. His mind was completely confused. His last memory was the cold feeling of steel slicing right across his neck.

He remembered the absolute certainty of his own death. It was the terrifying truth that he had died before the Sword Saint even started his attack. Yet now, he was still breathing.

He was not just alive; he had been brought back. Seo-Jun slowly lowered his gaze to his open hands. They were still tightly wrapped around the cracked wooden sword.

His body was completely unharmed, and his breathing was perfectly normal. The mountain and the red sunset looked exactly the same as before.

The old, broken swords remained buried in the dirt. The white flowers continued their endless dance in the wind. It was as if absolutely nothing had happened at all.

It felt like his sudden, brutal death had just been a bad dream. Seo-Jun stared quietly into the empty distance.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke the heavy silence.

"You are making that stupid face again."

Seo-Jun quickly shifted his eyes down the old stone path. The same familiar figure was casually walking right toward him.

He wore the same white clothes and had the same messy silver hair. The plain sword rested lazily on his shoulder, and his wine bottle hung from his waist.

The Sword Saint walked like he had just stepped away to take a quick walk. He did not look like a man who had just killed Seo-Jun in cold blood.

He did not look like a monster who had just shattered everything Seo-Jun knew about fighting. The man lifted his free hand and waved lazily.

"Hey," his warm voice traveled easily across the deep valley.

"You look slightly less terrible than you did before."

Seo-Jun just stared blankly at the smiling man.

"...Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

The Sword Saint stopped and thought about it very seriously. Then he nodded his head.

"Yes. Just a little bit."

Seo-Jun let out a long, tired sigh.

"You really haven't changed at all."

"Wrong," the Sword Saint immediately shook his head side to side.

"I have improved a lot."

He tapped his own chest with a proud grin.

"I am much more patient, wise, and mature now."

Seo-Jun gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

"You insulted me before even asking if I was hurt."

The Sword Saint simply shrugged his shoulders.

"You are standing up on your own two feet. That means you are perfectly fine."

The older man smiled widely.

"Besides, you already died once today." He pointed a lazy finger at Seo-Jun.

"That means the hard part is finally over."

Seo-Jun raised a dark eyebrow in question.

"The hard part?"

The Sword Saint's grin grew even wider.

"Of course. Now you just have to keep dying until your brain finally understands."

For a brief moment, the mountain fell completely silent. Then, a faint, genuine smile appeared on Seo-Jun's face.

It was not a fake smile meant to hide his deep pain. It was a very real, honest smile.

"...Then I suppose dying today was actually worth it."

The Sword Saint blinked in surprise before bursting into loud laughter.

"Hahaha!" His joyful voice echoed clearly through the quiet valley.

"Very good."

He stepped forward and rested his plain sword on his shoulder.

"At least you did not lose your humor after a single death."

Seo-Jun looked at him closely.

"A single death?"

The Sword Saint's smile became suspiciously bright and cheerful.

"Yes, your very first death." He paused to let the words sink in.

"First."

Seo-Jun's calm face slowly turned completely blank. The drunk man quickly looked away at the red sky.

"Do not worry about it. You will get used to the pain soon."

Seo-Jun gripped his sword tightly.

"How many times?"

The Sword Saint rubbed his chin like he was thinking very hard.

"It depends."

Seo-Jun frowned slightly.

"Depends on what?"

The man smiled warmly.

"On just how stubborn you really are."

Seo-Jun just stared at him in silence. The Sword Saint smiled back.

"Sadly... you are probably the most stubborn fool I have ever met in my life."

The answer was instant and clear. Seo-Jun tightened his grip around the cracked wooden handle.

The Sword Saint noticed the fighting spirit and smiled even wider. He did not smile because the boy wanted to fight. He smiled because Seo-Jun was ready to learn.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The gentle mountain wind blew quietly between the two warriors. It was the exact same battlefield, the same red sky, and the same deadly enemy.

But Seo-Jun felt completely different now. Dying once had not magically made him any stronger. It had done something much more important for his soul.

It had clearly shown him just how much he still did not understand about the wide world. The Sword Saint slowly raised his plain, steel blade.

"Good. Now let us see how quickly you can die this time around."

Seo-Jun quickly lowered his body into a ready stance.

His cold heart, frozen through so many bloody wars, finally beat with wild life. It was not because he faced a god he could never hope to beat.

It was because he had finally found a true guide. He had found someone who could cut away all his foolish lies. Someone who could force him to truly grow past his limits.

He was willing to learn, even if the heavy price of every single lesson was a painful death.

The fake mountain reset itself instantly. The beautiful red sky returned to normal. The white flowers danced through the gentle wind all over again.

Standing right across from him, the Sword Saint opened his wine bottle with an amused grin.

"...Round two?"

The older man tilted his head playfully.

"Please try not to die so fast this time."

✦ ✦ ✦

The mountain and the red sky returned once more. The endless sea of white flowers and the broken, buried swords looked exactly the same.

Everything was perfectly reset. Only one single thing in the world was different. Seo-Jun.

Right across from him, the Sword Saint lazily stretched his tired shoulders before drinking more wine.

"Hm?" The man blinked in surprise.

"You are already back?" He clicked his tongue loudly.

"What a shame. I really hoped you would stay dead for a little while longer."

Seo-Jun completely ignored the teasing words. Instead, he played the last deadly fight over and over in his head.

One single swing was all it had taken to kill him. He had not even seen the fatal attack coming.

No, that was wrong. He had seen the blade, but his mind simply had not understood the truth behind it.

The Sword Saint casually scratched his cheek.

"Well? Are you not going to come over here?"

Seo-Jun slowly raised his cracked wooden sword into the air.

"...Again."

The drunk man grinned widely.

"There you are. I was wondering when that stubborn brat would finally show up."

He waved Seo-Jun forward with a single finger.

"Come on then. Show me what you have been doing all these years."

Seo-Jun moved instantly. His feet crushed the dirt as he crossed the distance in a single breath.

The wooden sword stabbed forward with deadly speed. It was direct, perfectly aimed, and wasted no extra energy.

The Sword Saint watched the attack quietly. Then, he let out a disappointed sigh.

"Tsk. You are way too honest."

His body shifted to the side by just half a tiny step. The wooden sword cut through nothing but empty air.

The flat side of the steel blade tapped very lightly against Seo-Jun's shoulder. Instantly, his entire world went completely black.

✦ ✦ ✦

Simulation Terminated.

Cause of Death:

Neck Fracture.

✦ ✦ ✦

...

Again.

✦ ✦ ✦

Simulation Restarting...

✦ ✦ ✦

The peaceful mountain returned. This time, Seo-Jun attacked the man without a single moment of fear.

The Sword Saint just smiled.

"You are still rushing blindly."

Slash. Death.

...Again.

"You looked right at my hands," the man said. Instantly, death followed.

...Again.

"You listened too closely to the wind," he mocked. Death.

...Again.

"You completely ignored the wind." Death.

...Again.

"You trusted your own eyes too much." Death.

...Again.

"You suddenly stopped trusting your eyes." Death.

...Again.

"You tried to guess my next move." Death.

...Again.

"You froze in fear." Death.

...Again.

"You thought way too hard about it." Death.

...Again.

"You finally stopped thinking." A brief pause.

"...But your timing was totally wrong." Death.

Again. Again. Again.

Time completely lost its meaning on that mountain. The red sky never turned dark, and the white flowers never stopped falling.

Only the heavy death toll continued to rise higher. Twenty-three. Forty-eight. Seventy-one.

One hundred. One hundred and sixty-four. Two hundred and ninety-one. Five hundred painful deaths.

Every single fight lasted just a little bit longer than the last one. It was not because Seo-Jun had become faster or stronger.

He was finally beginning to truly understand. The Sword Saint was not teaching him fancy sword moves. He was brutally teaching him how to clearly see the world.

After another hundred bloody deaths, Seo-Jun finally spoke up.

"...Why?" he asked with heavy breaths.

The older man looked truly confused by the question.

"Why what?"

Seo-Jun frowned.

"Why does every single strike feel completely different?"

The Sword Saint blinked in shock before bursting into loud, rolling laughter.

"Hahaha! Oh, that is just adorable."

He wiped a happy tear from his eye.

"You still think I am using special moves."

Seo-Jun frowned deeply.

"...Are you not?"

The Sword Saint pointed his plain blade toward a distant mountain peak.

"Look way over there for a second."

Seo-Jun did not move his tired body.

"...Why?"

The man waved his hand.

"Just do it, brat."

After a brief silence, Seo-Jun slowly turned his head to look. The giant mountain stood quietly under the beautiful red sky.

"What do you see?" the man asked.

"A mountain," Seo-Jun replied.

"Tch." The Sword Saint looked incredibly disappointed.

"And that is exactly why you are still getting your teeth kicked in every five seconds."

He slowly walked over to the edge of the high cliff.

"Do you want to know what I see?" He smiled softly.

"I see a place the harsh wind has been carving for thousands of years." He pointed at a twisted tree growing right out of solid rock.

"I see a tree that is stubborn enough to grow where it does not belong." His eyes fell on the white flowers.

"I see flowers that bloom beautifully, even though they will die in a few short days."

Then, he casually raised his plain sword into the air.

"Now, what about this thing?"

Seo-Jun answered him instantly.

"It is a sword."

The Sword Saint sighed so deeply that it almost sounded painful.

"Damn it. I really did hit your head way too many times."

He reached out and tapped the side of Seo-Jun's head with his finger.

"No, you fool. This is not a sword."

Seo-Jun remained perfectly silent. The older man smiled gently.

"This..." He lightly swung the plain blade through the empty air.

"...is simply the shape that my understanding of the world takes."

Suddenly, the mountain breeze felt entirely different against his skin. The falling white flowers seemed much clearer and brighter than before.

The Sword Saint continued to speak.

"People always bother me about my sword moves. They ask what style I use, what realm I have reached."

He snorted loudly.

"They are a bunch of total idiots. They waste their whole lives copying someone else's test answers."

His happy smile slowly faded away into nothing.

"When all they should have been doing... was asking their very own questions."

Seo-Jun quietly lowered his dark eyes to the dirt. His grip around the cracked wooden handle tightened without him realizing it.

"...My very own question."

The Sword Saint nodded his head in approval.

"There we go. Now your thick skull is finally working."

He pointed his finger right at Seo-Jun's chest.

"Do you know why I kept killing you so easily?"

Seo-Jun slowly looked up at him. The man's annoying grin returned.

"Because every single time you attacked me... I could see another dead swordsman's shadow standing right behind you."

He started counting on his fingers.

"One swing looked like a soldier's art. Another move copied a wandering monk."

"Then you suddenly stole a stance from some spear-wielding idiot." He shook his head in dramatic disgust.

"What an ugly mess. You looked like a walking graveyard of dead men."

Seo-Jun's eyes narrowed sharply. He could not deny the harsh truth. Even without thinking, he had been using moves from his past lives.

He copied every old battle, every dead enemy, and every famous style he had ever seen in the world.

He had foolishly believed that mixing them all together made him much stronger. The Sword Saint slowly shook his head.

"It does not make you strong. It only makes your mind incredibly crowded."

The heavy words struck Seo-Jun harder than any real blade ever could. Crowded. Not weak, just crowded.

There were too many dead voices, too many stolen answers, and too many borrowed paths inside his head.

The Sword Saint gently rested his plain sword on his shoulder.

"Listen to me very carefully." His lazy smile vanished completely.

"I do not care if you ever manage to beat me. I do not care if you become the greatest warrior who ever lived in this world."

His golden eyes locked onto Seo-Jun's dark ones.

"But if the sword you swing can easily belong to someone else..."

"...Then it was never truly yours to begin with."

A heavy, peaceful silence settled between the two men. Neither of them spoke a single word to break it.

Only the mountain wind drifted through the quiet battlefield, bringing a storm of white flowers with it.

Seo-Jun slowly closed his tired eyes to the world. For the first time since he entered this fake memory dream, he was not thinking about winning.

He was not afraid of losing, and he was not trying to remember old tricks. He was no longer trying to copy the dead.

He simply stood perfectly still and listened. He did not listen to the older man or the whispering wind.

He listened to the quiet, heavy feeling of the wooden sword in his own hand.

He listened to his own true voice, hidden deep beneath all the stolen moves and borrowed strikes.

Right across from him, the Sword Saint stood perfectly still. He was quietly watching and patiently waiting for the boy to wake up.

Then, a small, proud smile tugged at the corner of his lips under his messy silver hair.

"...It is about damn time you figured it out."