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Trevor furrowed his brow.

‘He wants someone else’s sword, all of a sudden?’

Having faced the prince directly, Trevor knew better than anyone.

‘The sword the prince wields isn’t just any ordinary weapon.’

In fact, it was no less powerful than the dwarven-forged sword Trevor had received as a gift.

The prince had such a fine sword that he was already familiar with, so why would he want to borrow someone else’s?

“……!”

Trevor’s question was soon answered.

Shiiing.

“Hmm.”

The prince had drawn the sword from his waist with his right hand.

“This sword’s balance isn’t bad. Maybe it’s of mid-grade quality?”

He had gripped the newly acquired sword in his left hand.

“Dual-wielding……?”

At that sight, Trevor let out an involuntary chuckle.

Dual-wielding.

The act of using two swords simultaneously.

To the uninformed, it might seem like simply increasing the number of weapons would give them an advantage.

But anyone who had even a basic understanding of swordsmanship knew otherwise.

‘It’s far more likely to divide your attention and scatter your focus.’

This was an immutable truth, proven by countless real-world examples. Even with a single sword, who ever swung it with only one hand?

In fact, modern swordsmanship overwhelmingly favored a two-handed grip.

The reason was simple.

It was stronger that way.

‘What on earth is he thinking?’

If one didn’t take this weakness into account,

And if the sheer number of swords were truly a measure of strength, then people would be fighting with three swords, even holding one in their mouth.

Of course, there’s an exception to everything.

Some used a secondary weapon to support the main one.

There were those who wielded shorter blades, like daggers, purely for the purpose of deflecting attacks.

Such individuals had always existed, even though they belonged to the extremely niche group of dual-wielders.

And most of these people were mercenaries or wanderers, who cared more about practicality than prestige.

‘……No. In reality, even most wanderers don’t use it much.’

If the purpose was simply to deflect attacks, wearing a small shield would be far more efficient.

At any rate, Trevor was the only one in the last fifty years to use two longswords in that manner.

And then—

“Capture the prince!”

“……!”

A loud shout broke his train of thought.

“You immature prince! Who do you think you’re mimicking?”

“Your arrogance, having looked down on people your whole life, will be the end of you!”

“Kneel now, and we’ll spare your life!”

The prince stood alone, separated from his group.

Trevor’s enemies rushed in, rapidly closing the distance, and tightly surrounded the prince.

“……Thanks to the reckless prince, this might be easier than expected.”

The help from his own allies was too far away. No, for some reason, even in this dire situation, the enemies showed no sign of movement.

Of course, Trevor had no idea this was due to Ancelot’s prior warnings.

But then—

Clang!

The harsh sound of metal crashing together forced Trevor to rethink everything.

“……!”

An utterly surreal scene unfolded before his eyes.

“……What the……?”

His subordinates, who charged from both sides, wielding their swords with all their might using both hands—

Clang!

—Were effortlessly deflected with mere flicks of the prince’s hands, each holding a sword.

“……Ugh!”

“Wh-What the? What was that?”

The two attackers looked stunned, their hands throbbing with the sharp pain of nearly having their swords ripped from their grips.

And then.

Clang, clang, clang!

The same situation repeated over and over.

A second wave, and a third—swords poured in from all directions, but the prince responded to every attack without hesitation.

He met each strike head-on and deflected them all without any sign of strain or retreating a single inch.

“Am I…… am I seeing things?”

Rubbing his eyes repeatedly, Trevor finally focused his mana on his optic nerves.

And before long—

“……Ah……!”

Trevor saw it.

The minute changes in the prince’s muscles just after each clash.

‘He’s using the principle of reflection!’

Trevor shuddered as if struck by lightning. There are five main principles of swordsmanship.

The swift sword.

The changing sword.

The strong sword.

The heavy sword.

And the flexible sword.

Most renowned knightly families focus on these principles to develop their sword techniques over time.

However, these aren’t the only foundational principles.

In fact, several other principles—like explosion, dispersion, pulling, bending, thrusting, and reflection—came to Trevor’s mind.

But these were so rare that information on them was scarce, and even if one found techniques based on them, learning them was a grueling process.

There was always a reason why people didn’t easily approach such things.

And yet……

“Gasp!”

Another one of his subordinates gasped in shock, and another sword flew into the distance with a clang.

Each time metal clashed, without exception, his subordinates’ weapons were flung into the air.

‘Natural wrist flexibility, the ability to accurately track the enemy’s center of gravity, and flawless timing……’

Trevor clenched his fists without realizing it.

The scene was all too familiar to him.

It was the signature combat style of a man who possessed overwhelming natural talent, who once struck fear into the hearts of countless enemies.

“Aah……!”

A dazzlingly beautiful sight from his youth, one he thought he’d never see again. It was none other than Trevor’s own past, unfolding before him.

Everyone has their time of youth, a time when memories can tug painfully at your heartstrings.

‘Is this…… a dream?’

For Trevor, it was more than that.

Yes.

In the prince, Trevor saw his younger self.

A time when he had feared nothing. When tomorrow was more exciting than today. The bold and spirited young Trevor stood before him once again, a deep smile playing at his lips.

“What the? Is that all?”

“……!”

“We’re just getting started. Don’t just stand there like that.”

The prince’s voice interrupted Trevor’s reverie.

“Come at me. From now on, I’ll show you the most beautiful swordsmanship on the continent.”

But this was only the beginning.

It was right after I deflected a dozen swords coming at me.

“……”

Following the clash, a deep, eerie silence fell over the area. Was it because I had shown unexpected skill?

Despite my taunt, not a single person dared to recklessly charge at me now.

‘They must be starting to feel a sense of danger.’

The smile on my face grew even deeper. It’s too early for that. I glanced, almost unconsciously, in Trevor’s direction.

‘……Because there’s still something I want to show you.’

From the moment I first saw him, my mind had been filled with thoughts of swordsmanship.

The famous tale that made him a hero of the east, and the one that came to mind whenever people spoke of the ‘Swordsman of Illusions’.

‘The story of how you, carrying a newborn—the sole survivor of an eastern nobility—cut down two hundred enemies on your own and broke through their siege is still spoken of today.’

They say a beast leaves behind its skin, and a person their name.

So……

‘The continent hasn’t forgotten your name yet.’

No, even if the world had forgotten, I’ll remember. I quietly raised both swords to either side of me. The ones at the tip of my blades visibly flinched.

But the ones I was targeting weren’t just them.

‘Let it bloom.’

Whoosh! Whoosh whoosh!

Soon, my swords. No, my entire body began to spin in place. It was the prelude to a reproduction of the past.

“Argh! What are you all doing!? Attack!”

Whoooooosh!

Enemies charged in from all sides. It didn’t matter. My dance had already begun.

“……No, to be exact, it’s ‘your’ dance.”

Fshhh!

My spinning swords began to emit refined shards of mana. The splintering energy started to take on physical form.

It was a multitude of petals made from aura.

‘Even if a flower falls, its scent remains.’

And if that flower falls before it has fully bloomed, its lingering fragrance stays even stronger.

-The fully bloomed flower falls.

-It’s cut by another’s hand and lays in the dirt.

-Yet, who would dare to easily trample that flower?

-It’s still so beautiful, even now.

‘Don’t be deceived by appearances. The price of being enchanted by that beauty will be your lives.’

Engulf them.

Sweep through everything in the vicinity.

Devour the space.

The Fifth Act of the Illusionary Dance.

‘Falling Flowers.’

Fshhh!

Petals imbued with power scattered in all directions. They slashed at everything around me. Amidst the storm of aura, I calmly looked toward him.

‘Trevor, isn’t this the perfect secret technique for you?’

Flowers are destined to wither someday.

Humans are the same. Everyone wishes to hold on to beauty for as long as they can, but youth is fleeting. Sometimes, disease or an accident snatches the petals away before their time.

That’s just how life works.

‘It’s natural for flowers to wither. It’s just as natural for them to fall in a storm.’

But even withered flowers and fallen blossoms take on their own unique forms.

The past won’t come again. The same goes for mistakes already made. Greed, vanity, ambition, betrayal, deceit, slander……

Flowers tainted by such toxic nourishment will only emit a foul odor, even after they’ve fallen.

However—

‘With nourishment, you’ll exude fragrance.’

You’re no feeble old man, not even fifty yet—still young and full of life.

So.

‘Show me.’

Show me how beautiful a fallen flower can be, even as it plummets to the ground before it has even fully bloomed.

How richly it can spread its scent, soaked in the nutrients of the dirt.

‘Don’t disappoint me, Trevor.’

***

Trevor stood there, frozen like a statue.

“Who…… Who in the world are you?”

His eyes, filled with shock, were fixated on only one thing.

The prince…… No.

What he saw was his past, something he thought would never return. A level of skill he had assumed he could never regain.

The brilliance of his prime was being recreated before his very eyes.

“Aah……”

The prince was recreating the most radiant moment of Trevor’s life.

‘No…… that’s not it.’

In fact, could those wretched memories have been the dream, and this the reality? As Trevor reached the point of denying his present, he frantically shook his head.

His gaze fell downward.

The miserable body he saw there reminded him of the harsh reality he faced.

Like the ashes of his burnt-out dreams, his empty arms and legs.

Right.

This was reality.

The vision before him was a beautiful dream, nothing more.

That’s why—

“Aaaah……”

He wanted to hold on to this fleeting dream, even for just a second longer.

But why?

Why, when this dream was so sweet, did he feel tears instead of laughter?

“Aaaaaah……”

He thought the well of his tears had dried up long ago. Yet why were they now streaming down his face?

Hot, torrential tears flowed down his parched, weathered cheeks like rain after a drought.

‘My glorious……’

No.

“……Our glorious past……”

It felt like his tear ducts had broken completely.

***