The Second Salvation Myth of a Retired Regressed Hero

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After finishing his daily routine, Doyun practiced swordsmanship alone at the training hall, the sublime path of Buske’s sword style tracing invisible embroidery through the air.

In a few days, an inspection would take place at the Cradle. During this, the most outstanding students were scheduled to have friendly matches against the instructors – another result of external pressures, no doubt.

For Doyun, it was a welcome proposal. After all, it was thanks to these circumstances that he could now wield a sword like this.

It was a pity he could only demonstrate Buske’s style from before the 17th regression under the ‘supervision of instructors’, with the swordsmanship instructor observing him. But even this was more than enough.

[The skill ‘Swordsmanship’ has leveled up. Current level: 2]

Just being able to train with a sword filled him with immense gratitude.

‘Let me try this.’

Without stopping, Doyun continued swinging the sword, comparing before and after the skill level-up.

The invisible lines etched in the air grew thinner. The sword tip’s vibrations lessened, its trajectory becoming sharper.

The sound of cleaving air softened, the air’s elasticity pushing against the blade reduced. Even executing the same movements, an aura naturally manifested around the blade’s edge.

Doyun halted the sword, marveling.

It was his first time experiencing a skill level-up, giving him an understanding of why skill levels were considered an important gauge of an apostle’s abilities.

“Phew…”

With Doyun’s exhale, the aura etched in the air dispersed. The swordsmanship instructor observing from afar shivered once, as if brushed by a chilling breeze – the keen sharpness raising goosebumps on his arms.

‘I knew he hadn’t shown his full abilities during the tournament, but to this extent…’

Even though Doyun had simply demonstrated swordsmanship without an actual bout, the other students couldn’t hope to match it.

‘He’s even growing at an alarming rate.’

Just now, Doyun’s sword had clearly changed midway – his skill had leveled up.

The System’s skill levels were set to 0 at ‘the time the System’s blessings were bestowed’. In other words, even at the same level, those who had reached high mastery before receiving the System would be stronger.

However, this theoretical concept generally held little meaning.

Most of those powerful before the System’s advent had either perished in war or through their lifespans ending.

There were very few cases where this theory applied, the prime example being the boss monster killers.

‘Unfortunately, Hwangbojun and Salamander fell on the battlefield, but…’

If Doyun reached full mastery unlike them…

‘…’

The swordsmanship instructor shuddered briefly.

Meanwhile, Doyun clicked his tongue in lingering dissatisfaction.

“Tsk…”

It had been fine when he couldn’t touch a real sword back on Earth, but wielding one here only made the itch worse.

‘I want to unleash sword-ki while swinging it…’

Doyun looked down at the sword.

An unsharpened training iron sword merely replicating the weight and shape. Using sword-ki with this would instantly shatter it.

There was no way the Cradle would have swords capable of withstanding sword-ki, as students using it was unprecedented.

Should he request to borrow an instructor’s sword? It would be quite rude and absurd.

Whenever Doyun held a sword, even if only occasionally, he deeply missed the grip and swinging sensation of a proper blade.

‘It would be great to have a real sword…’

Countless renowned blades had passed through Enoch’s hands during the 18th regression.

His most cherished sword, considered the continent’s finest, had been driven into the Demon Lord’s heart before vanishing through dimensional banishment.

‘It’s probably in the Demon Lord’s castle by now.’

Such a pity. A masterpiece crafted by the Dwarven King himself, more than deserving of being called the greatest sword on the continent.

‘I suppose I’ve truly lost it.’

Scratching the hilt with his fingers, Doyun recalled the other swords. If any could compare to Enoch’s cherished blade…

‘Buske’s collection is the only possibility.’

The Sword Saint’s Sword Collection – a tale famous enough to be covered in history lessons.

Buske, who had forsaken all else to devote himself solely to the sword’s path. His one humble hobby had been collecting swords.

A collection of 13 swords, the greatest blades across the continent.

But this collection had never once been stolen, as the ‘gallery’ housing it was constructed from skull diamonds capable of absorbing nearly all shocks, sword-ki, and mana.

And the gallery’s entrance lock used no keys or passwords – a simple structure that only the Sword Saint Buske and Enoch could open.

‘It would be great to have just one of them.’

Especially the 9th sword. Even back when Doyun had been Enoch, he had coveted that blade.

‘The poor things. Locked away for 100 years? Back then, I used to sneak visits, letting those beauties catch some air…’

‘…Huh? Wait a minute.’

The gallery’s location was in the Buske clan’s underground estate within the Skeletonia Kingdom.

‘This nation’s name was…?’

According to the lessons, it was indeed Skeletonia.

‘…Right. Come to think of it, this nation’s Warrior was Brhydert.’

After the war’s end, where else would Brhydert have settled down but his master’s estate?

The Sword Collection was located much closer than Doyun had thought.

‘A reason has arisen to meet them sooner rather than later.’

Doyun had much to discuss with Brhydert.

How he had been doing all this time. The extent of his cultivation. Whether he had taken a wife, had children.

And how in the world he had managed to live until now.

Doyun recalled the afternoon lesson.

‘You said the Sword Saint’s direct student. Isn’t that from 100 years ago? Is he from a long-lived race like elves?’

‘No, the Warrior Brhydert is human.’

‘Pardon? Then how…’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Pardon?’

‘No one knows. Even Brhydert himself is said to be unaware.’

‘…Are you joking?’

‘Haha. Absurd, isn’t it? Brhydert himself must find it even more absurd. One day while walking, he suddenly received a system message about being blessed with longevity, and has lived for decades without aging since.’

‘Um…’

‘According to interviews, he jokingly said this: “My late father must be watching over me.”‘

Upon hearing that story, Doyun had also thought:

‘How absurd.’

Perhaps Brhydert was hiding something.

Doyun wished to meet him soon, catch up while inquiring about that secret.

And he needed to acquire a sword as well.

‘…Still, he is my nephew, so he should spare at least one.’

Even to his own ears, it sounded rather brazen. After all, the collection was an inheritance passed down to his student Brhydert.

However, Doyun didn’t solely rely on his cheekiness either.

Of the 13 swords, the 0th, 7th, and 12th had been gifts from Enoch to the Sword Saint.

‘And Brhydert may have grown enough to open the gallery’s lock.’

If he still couldn’t, Doyun could receive one sword as payment for unlocking it.

It was the greatest sword treasury on the continent – surely even Brhydert wouldn’t want those priceless blades gathering dust, stamping his feet in frustration.

‘…It’s quite a pity I can’t meet him this time.’

This nation’s Warrior Brhydert wouldn’t be attending this inspection, with some hero from a neighboring nation coming instead.

While regrettable, Doyun resigned himself to meeting the elven chick Eloah this time.

Though of course, she wouldn’t be a chick anymore.

‘If she recognizes me as Enoch… I wonder how she’ll react.’

If he revealed his identity to Eloah, it would be the first time as Enoch reuniting with a connection from his previous life. Doyun felt rather tense.

‘100 years ago… she was that chick confidently declaring she would marry the Hero.’

But a century had passed. While elves were an immutable race, 100 years was still a long time even for them.

‘Come to think of it, Eloah must have cried a lot too.’

How much must that little girl have wailed for her beloved Hero, begging for his life?

‘…’

His heart felt heavy.

‘…The guild master, was it?’

Doyun too had been a guild master – in fact, the very first to conceive of the term ‘guild’.

He knew all too well the greatest headache when running a large organization.

Money.

‘If she still welcomes me…’

As an apology for the anguish he had caused, he should at least bring a gift.

‘Now where did I stash the gold coins?’

While the funding required for a major guild was immense, the great hero Enoch’s legacy was truly vast.

Enoch had even been among the continent’s wealthiest tycoons. Through his future knowledge from regression turning, he had amassed fortunes in every cycle.

The hero’s legacies hidden across the continent – opening just one would be an astronomical sum from a guild’s perspective, enough to make one’s eyes roll back.

With a wry smile, imagining the elven chick’s delighted expression, Doyun sheathed his sword.

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The 6th week’s end at the Cradle.

“Open the gates!!”

The inspection procession forced open the Cradle’s gates.