Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 177

As soon as Lugo finished his sentence, Karen’s eyes widened before Leon’s, and she shouted, “Wait, did you just say Cedric? The Sword Demon?!”

For Karen, having lived long as an adventurer and once as an assassin, there was information that was impossible for her not to know. An assassin might bring down someone stronger, but even the best had less than half a chance against an Expert. Against a Master, the odds fell to nothing.

Unless an assassin had reached the level of an Assassin Master like Karen herself, a hundred attempts only meant a hundred deaths. Because of that reality, assassins kept their own blacklists of names never to be touched. The lists varied, but the top ten were always fixed.

Cedric the Sword Demon? He was always among the top three.

“You called in a man who butchers people for sport, who takes more joy in cutting down men than eating three meals a day? A mad butcher who’ll cut down nobles, royals—anyone in reach of his blade—as your examiner? Are you insane?!”

Her outburst left Lugo hiccupping in panic.

“Hic-no, it’s not what you...”

“Not what? Anyone can dig up that man’s reputation in minutes! His portrait still hangs all over Hispania!”

“Karen.”

Leon caught her arm. He didn’t know who Cedric was, not in detail, but he did know that S-rank adventurers were beyond the Guildmaster’s control. There was a good chance that this was Cedric’s will, and if so, then Lugo’s hands must have been tied.

Karen, now thinking that that must have been the reason, paused just long enough for Lugo to slip in.

“Mr. Leon is right! Mr. Cedric himself insisted on being the examiner. And, besides, without him, finding another strong enough would have taken at least six months. Please, I beg your understanding.”

Bowing nearly double, Lugo left Karen unable to lash out further. The Guildmaster of Area 1 held significant authority. Spitting in his face, especially when he was being this apologetic, would only make another enemy. Still, Karen fumed until Leon shifted the subject.

He asked, “So, who exactly is this Cedric? How can someone so notorious still be working under the Guild?”

“S-rankers are all eccentrics or messed up in the head, that’s how,” Karen answered, still grumbling.

Sure, it was a sweeping generalization, but Lugo only grimaced, tacitly agreeing and watching Leon and Karen.

Fewer than ten S-rankers existed across the entire continent, adventurers or mercenaries alike. And what they all had in common was the fact that they were... rebels. Masters might be courted anywhere, treated with open arms, but S-rankers remained in the Guild because they despised being chained to houses, kingdoms, or lords.

“They care more for freedom than wealth or power. Do you think people like that would care what others think? They live as they please, and strength makes their whims impossible to suppress. That’s what an S-rank adventurer is,” Karen explained, then added, “Remember what Guildmaster Ryan once said? The youngest ever A-rank. Sixteen years old when he felled a mutated ogre.”

“Oh, right.”

“At first, I didn’t know who he was talking about, but when he mentioned that this adventurer was among the most dangerous S-rankers alive, I knew exactly who it was.”

Cedric the Sword Demon—a prodigy who became a Swordmaster with his own style, without a teacher or lineage. A lone blade striding the continent, felling monsters and challengers alike like fall leaves, cutting down all who stood before him regardless of birth or station. People revered—and feared—him as the Sword Demon.

“Put simply, he’s crazy. Plenty call him the Mad Sword behind his back.”

Karen’s words were harsh, but true. The incident in Hispania, which she briefly mentioned earlier, only strengthened her case.

Before he became a Swordmaster, Cedric once crossed paths with a pack of noble sons in the capital. A trivial matter—who should yield the road. The nobles expected the filthy adventurer to prostrate himself. One young lord stepped forward, lectured Cedric on manners, and received his lesson in steel.

In seconds, half a dozen scions lay in pieces.

“The kingdom had to restore its honor after its nobles were butchered in its own streets. They unleashed nearly half their Royal Guard, along with the slaughtered families’ retainers.”

“And they failed...” Leon muttered. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

“Worse than failed. Cedric became a Swordmaster while on the run from Hispania.”

Then came catastrophe. To revel in his new realm, Cedric annihilated every man sent after him. Five noble houses collapsed, half the Royal Guard erased. At a cost that was way too disproportionate for simply getting on the bad side of an adventurer, Hispania was forced to rescind its kill order and beg for forgiveness.

From that day, his name as the Sword Demon spread across the continent.

“Some romanticize him as a lone rebel who struck down oppression with nothing but a blade, but that’s just nonsense spewed by ignorant commoners. Cedric’s just a slaughter maniac who cuts down whatever offends him.”

“At that point, he sounds more like a wanted criminal than an adventurer,” Leon remarked.

“But he can’t be labeled a criminal because he never kills the innocent. He keeps to that line, though just barely.”

It was a fine but important distinction. The Guild suffered headaches for it but never cast him out. For all his rampages, Cedric completed his quests and willingly ventured into monster zones that others shunned, hunting horrible monsters even beyond S-rank. As long as his massacres stayed short of calamity, the Guild had no choice but to tolerate him.

“Well, then, there’s no choice. Even if it’s him, I’ll take the trial,” Leon announced his decision.

“Leon, but...”

“Besides, knowing his type, he won’t take no for an answer if I refuse.”

“You’re probably right about that...”

More than anything, wasting half a year was unthinkable. Even if he were wounded by Cedric, the recovery of his Stigmata would heal him quickly enough. To cross blades with a true Swordmaster might even be a rare and valuable experience.

When Leon resolved himself, Lugo let out a heavy sigh of relief. If Cedric had been refused, would he have simply turned back? No—the man would have raised hell to extract a price for the wasted trip.

Let this end well, whatever the result, Lugo prayed, seeing Leon and Karen off to their lodgings.

His crown, already empty, throbbed all the more as he glanced toward the Holy Church, where events might erupt as soon as tomorrow. Cedric’s arrival was enough to make even a Guildmaster yearn for faith.

However, unfortunately, Lugo was already too late. The calamity came before his prayers could.

***

A sharp, metallic sound rang out. An instant later, a round section of a wall crashed down, leaving a hole wide enough for a man to pass. Through the rising dust, a shadow stepped calmly inside. In his right hand was a sword, plain and unadorned, its cold steel glinting with no hint of ornament.

The man muttered, “As expected of Jugend. Hispania is nothing in comparison. Didn’t think it’d take three swings just to cut through some wall.”

The man sheathed his blade with a satisfied grin. The Guild would have to spend hundreds of gold to repair the breach, yet his face showed not a flicker of guilt.

Cedric the Sword Demon was a man twisted from birth, who could only feel alive when cutting something down.

“Been a while. Maybe I’ll tour the forges again... or cross swords with that monster of a Cardinal once more. Not that I think I can win yet.”

Last time he came, he’d only meant to buy a sword, but Irexana’s presence had roused his fighting spirit. He’d attacked, only to be soundly beaten.

It had been the first wall he’d met since becoming a Swordmaster, and one that showed him—no matter how many times he tried—he could not win. Ten years had passed since then, and still, he had no confidence of victory.

“But I doubt I’ll fall as easily this time.”

And that was enough. Cedric never needed the certainty of victory. All that mattered was whether he wanted to fight. That desire alone carried him through decades of carnage.

From the outer breach, he walked toward the city’s heart, eyes closed. To an Aura Master, the five senses were only secondary. A being who could reshape the world around his own “self” had little need to rely on fragile organs. To one trained in shaping intent into perception, closing off the senses actually made the mind’s eye sharper.

Fools might think merely walking with eyes shut was “mind’s eye.” The truth was what Cedric did now.

With a subtle hum, a web of finely spun intent radiated from him in all directions, so thin a single strand could have encircled Area 1 several times over. Each filament was his eyes and ears.

In an instant, his threads reached across the entire district, sketching out the city’s every detail—terrain, wards, secret facilities. He couldn’t pierce the insides, but even knowing their locations was impressive. However, that wasn’t what Cedric cared about.

“Hoh.”

Minutes later, Cedric opened his eyes, smiling in excitement. It was like stumbling upon an unexpected gift, and that gift made his heart roar like molten iron.

His gaze sharpened, and he stared into the core of Area 1.

“One is that monster Cardinal. But the other... what is it? In terms of sheer scale of power, I’m absolutely no match.”

It felt as if a dragon from legend had walked into the city. And there was more.

Two other signatures, moving even now, were each at the Master level, strong enough to threaten him.

Cedric had come under the guise of an examiner, but at once his composure crumbled. Such opponents were nearly impossible to find. Guild S-rankers rarely crossed paths, and others of that caliber were locked away as lords or sworn retainers.

Even without the Cardinal, that makes three. Strip away the one at his side, and still two remain. A buffet!

He didn’t care which one he would have to evaluate. He would face that one first, and then move on to the rest. The Guild’s regulations were already forgotten. Only the weight of the blade at his hip mattered.

He checked his pocket watch. The thin hand had yet to reach midnight. The trial was scheduled to begin tomorrow, so tonight, he could not act.

“Three more hours...”

His eyes narrowed. By the strictest definition, tomorrow began at midnight. He just had to last three more hours.

Like a beast hunting the scent of blood, the Swordmaster gripped his hilt and strode deeper into Area 1.