Ⅱ
Standing at the bow of the Eastern, Arthur stared at the immense whirlpool, the compassion in his eyes deepening.
"Disregard the dark world, gaze down upon the earth, and listen to that eternal cry-
Swiftbird Swordsmanship, modified: Sea-Splitting!"
Amid his soft chant, a bird's cry rang out.
With a single cry, his sword intent took shape.
A white bird appeared behind Arthur.
The white bird was enormous. When it spread its wings, it almost spanned both banks of the Inner River.
The white bird was razor-sharp. When it raised its head, boundless sword energy filled the world.
Hum!
Hum, hum.
Hum, hum, hum!
One sword after another rang out, but none of those sounds came from Arthur's sword.
In fact, Arthur held no sword at all.
His sword had long since resided in his heart.
As he stood there, he was the king of all swords.
And all other swords naturally had to bow in submission.
Those ringing sounds came from the swords of the people around him.
Sheathed swords trembled incessantly.
Drawn swords dipped of their own accord.
It was respect and submission to their king.
Of course, some refused to submit-or rather, harbored defiance in their hearts.
For example-
Rory!
Under the protection of the Force-Field Shield, the Marquis's eldest son had escaped the crushing pressure of Imora the Devourer's savage aura. He stood up again, glaring at Arthur with vicious resentment.
The Marquis's eldest son knew he had utterly disgraced himself.
He had performed even worse than Windsor, the woman he had always regarded as a plaything.
Was that his fault?
No!
He wasn't the one at fault!
He had already worked hard enough!
Arthur was at fault!
Exactly!
That Medium from South Los was the one at fault!
If not for him, Rory would never