Chapter 32
Chapter 32. This Isn’t a Coincidence
A monarch who brought an entire realm under one rule through a dragon blade.
‘If that’s true, then maybe…’
A past conversation with Sia surfaced in my memory.
She had mentioned that every person who managed to tap into the true might of a Dragon Bone Sword carved their name deeply into human history, whether rising as a legendary Swordmaster celebrated for their mastery or reigning as an emperor who united a divided continent.
Whether the “dragon sword” referenced in the old text actually referred to an authentic Dragon Bone Sword was something I had no way of confirming.
Even so, it was plausible that this Dungeon Gate, known as the Garden of Dragon Swords, served as a monumental ground commemorating a ruler who had once carried such a relic.
‘Hopefully, there’s something useful to gain from this place.’
Realistically speaking, the chances did not appear particularly high.
Until I stepped past the threshold and saw it for myself, it was simply an atypical Dungeon Gate and nothing more.
It was entirely possible that “dragon sword” was just an ornate title for an ordinary weapon decorated with dragon motifs across its guard and hilt.
‘All the same… the timing is far too precise to be mere luck.’
Noticing my prolonged quietness, Taeseong spoke up. “Minjun, what’s on your mind?”
“I was merely reflecting on how curious the phrase dragon sword sounds. Humanity hasn’t even confirmed the reality of dragons yet, after all.”
I maintained an innocent, casual demeanor.
As far as public records and common knowledge were concerned, no dragon had ever been officially documented to roam the world.
Juwon, who had assisted Taeseong with explaining the Gate earlier, chimed into our exchange.
“Between Gates, greenskins, and every other bizarre entity out there, who can say dragons are impossible? It wouldn’t surprise me if a few were already blending in among regular folks.”
He threw the remark out casually, treating it as an amusing hypothetical, but I could not help wondering how he would react if he discovered his passing joke aligned precisely with the truth.
SCREEECH.
Shortly afterward, the vehicle ground to a halt right before the Dungeon Gate.
Everyone strapped on their combat gear and filed through the entrance, officially signaling the start of the Dungeon Gate raid.
Upon stepping through, the immediate view presented a luminous sky, countless blades thrust into the earth like weathered tombstones, and overgrown brush that reached roughly to a child’s knees.
Standard Gates routinely displayed environments alien to anything seen on Earth, yet the atmosphere here ventured beyond typical anomalies into outright eerie territory.
Given a moniker like the Garden of Dragon Swords, I had anticipated a majestic or striking expanse. The actual sight could not have stood further from such expectations.
Rather than magnificent, it leaned heavily toward unsettling and grim.
‘What kind of chaotic theme is this even trying to convey?’
Pulling my focus away from the dense sea of rusted steel, I caught sight of the massive monument Taeseong had brought up earlier.
A colossal effigy portraying a dragon intertwined with a broadsword, looming over hundreds upon hundreds of blades scattered among knee-high greenery, was definitely an arresting image, though the creator possessed a rather morbid sense of design.
“Quite an odd vista, wouldn’t you say?”
As I observed the surroundings, another hunter wandered over to strike up a conversation.
“This is my first time entering this Gate as well, just like you. Doesn’t the whole ambiance feel fundamentally distinct from our usual Dungeon Gates?”
“I was thinking the exact same thing. It feels hard to settle into.”
In the middle of our brief chat, Taeseong clapped his palms together sharply to draw everyone’s focus.
“The hostile entities will begin manifesting shortly. Get yourselves in formation.”
Manifesting already?
That signaled threats were about to appear, yet regardless of how meticulously I scanned the perimeter, not a single enemy was visible.
Just as that thought crossed my mind, dark vapors began seeping out from the weapons planted in the soil.
‘Don’t tell me.’
“…Apparition-type entities?”
“Ah, that slipped my mind. I’m far too accustomed to clearing this zone with the regular squad.”
Taeseong elaborated that only a single breed of adversary inhabited this particular Dungeon Gate.
“They are exclusive to this zone. There is no formal classification assigned to them, so our team refers to them as Sword Wraiths.”
His remarks aligned with a lesson once taught during my time at the academy.
Certain Dungeon Gates occasionally fostered peculiar monstrosities that never manifested anywhere else in the world.
“Is there any specific method to handle them effectively?”
“The fundamental approach mirrors fighting typical ethereal specters. Aside from that—”
Before Taeseong could finish his thought, the dark haze filtering out from the buried blades expanded rapidly into swelling masses.
Formless billows of murky vapor carrying sinister contours emitted chilling wails and surged straight toward our position.
How did the curriculum dictate a swordsman counter incorporeal adversaries?
A lesson from a former instructor resurfaced in my thoughts.
‘Blade practitioners have an inherently terrible matchup against ghostly targets. Should you be forced to engage one, concentrate your mana toward the cutting edge and tip far more intensely than usual.’
The core principle was straightforward: when facing ethereal foes, the trajectory and posture of the swing held far less weight than the sheer density of mana infused into the steel.
I channeled as much compressed mana as possible into the blade’s edge and lashed out with maximum velocity.
SLASH!
A clean arc sheared the dark haze right through its center.
Because it was a specter, however, being cleaved in half did not spell its end.
Predictably, the bifurcated Sword Wraith shrugged off the trauma and kept hurtling toward me, its divided vapors immediately pulling together to reknit.
Refusing to grant it a moment to stabilize, I slashed a second time, condensing an even greater weight of mana through the steel.
The follow-up stroke unraveled the Sword Wraith into faint wisps, causing it to scatter into nothingness.
“Phew.”
My physical capabilities had certainly advanced compared to earlier days, and my current armaments far outclassed anything I previously owned.
Even accounting for those improvements, dispatching it had felt far too uncomplicated.
Apparitions were universally notorious for being stubborn nuisances, demanding tedious effort to eradicate, particularly for someone relying on a sword.
I continued eliminating the approaching Sword Wraiths with matching strikes while periodically checking the status of the surrounding vanguard.
Taeseong, a B-rank caster possessing elemental traits well-suited for dismantling ethereal opponents, had positioned himself atop the central effigy, surveying the battlefield and neutralizing stragglers whenever a sector showed signs of buckling.
Because this expedition primarily served as a training drill for junior combatants, his role was to observe and intervene only when someone’s inexperience risked crumbling the perimeter.
Meanwhile, the remaining team members were sweating profusely just to contain the advancing Sword Wraiths.
As the lone swordsman in the group, theoretical disadvantage dictated that I should have struggled the most against these incorporeal targets.
Yet, to my own bewilderment, my strikes were carving through the Sword Wraiths with minimal resistance.
Taeseong, gazing down from his vantage point upon the effigy, appeared equally astonished by the sight.
A squad member sweeping past called out amidst the chaos.
“Minjun, are you truly registered as a D-rank?”
“I am.”
“You ought to schedule a re-evaluation immediately. Your output looks easily like C-rank caliber.”
Hearing other active hunters voice such assessments suggested my advancement was indeed outpacing my conscious awareness.
While that realization brought a sense of progress, a far more pressing dilemma rapidly took precedence.
‘How much longer will this onslaught continue?’
The Sword Wraiths pressed in with such relentless rhythm that checking the time was out of the question, leaving me clueless about how many minutes had ticked by.
Raid engagements were inherently draining, but an uninterrupted flood of adversaries without a single second of respite was something I had never weathered before.
The instant I dissolved one apparition, dark mist coiled upward from another sword in the soil.
The moment I purged that threat, yet another cloud materialized to torment my flank.
“This pace is relentless.”
Even facing the weakest tier of minor slimes, an endless tide of this magnitude would still prove deeply exhausting.
The surrounding hunters reflected the same fatigue, breathing raggedly and muttering curses through grit teeth as they held the line.
No severe casualties had occurred thanks to the support mages continuously rotating healing spells, but swinging without a single breath for over two hours was a trial of its own.
‘It makes total sense why these Gates are chosen to drill combat personnel.’
The strain was grueling, yet it undeniably accelerated the accumulation of real combat instincts.
For me, however, a separate priority outweighed basic physical conditioning.
‘My focus should have been directed toward mastering the dragon’s latent strength.’
I had repeatedly told myself not to lose track of that purpose, yet high-intensity pressure had temporarily wiped it from my mind.
This was precisely what had happened.
Somewhere amidst the chaos, my primary goal had been entirely eclipsed by the immediate demand of neutralizing disadvantageous foes.
‘I can still correct my course right now.’
Given the circumstances, what approach would best awaken that inner draconic resonance?
“Sixty minutes left!”
Taeseong’s resonant shout reverberated through the garden, notifying everyone that only an hour remained until the Gate’s completion condition was met.
Two-thirds of the planned three-hour engagement had elapsed.
The rest of the strike team was likely praying for that remaining hour to pass in a flash, but I could not afford such passive relief.
Opportunities like this were exceptionally rare, and there was no telling when another fitting testing ground would present itself.
Within these final sixty minutes, I had to coax the sleeping power of the dragon within me as far to the surface as humanly possible.
‘How should I approach this next step?’
Should I persist in striking targets as I had been, leaning purely on the principles Rokan had stressed: sovereignty and absolute intent?
This time, however, I needed to sharpen that intent into something far more concrete.
For instance, forging an absolute decree to obliterate every single Sword Wraith roaming this suffocating ground.
Yet how could an abstract intent materialize into actual results?
It might be a leap of logic, but instinct told me simple willpower alone would fail to achieve such an outcome.
I needed an additional catalyst—a radical adjustment significant enough to completely shift the dynamics of the engagement.
With a B-rank authority securing our rear lines, a baseline level of survival was assured, granting me the leeway to adopt an aggressive gamble.
The adjustment I settled upon was reconfiguring the flow of mana enveloping the steel.
I lacked the intricate mastery of an elemental caster, making granular structural manipulation of energy exceedingly difficult.
‘Regardless, I must force it to adapt.’
Up to this point, my technique relied on projecting energy outward into forceful impacts. From here on, I would invert the current: drawing ambient energy and mana into the core of the blade.
If I absorbed the essence of the Sword Wraiths rather than cleaving through them, it might trigger an unforeseen chain reaction.
Considering these apparitions inherently twisted the natural order of life and death, perhaps overriding normal rules was the only proper response.
I had no concrete idea what would transpire once that dark, baleful mist was pulled inside my weapon.
Even so, an innate conviction told me it would hold.
This was no mass-produced armament. It was a Dragon Bone Sword, an artifact possessing pedigree rivaling any mythic blade ever forged.
Given the sanctuary bore the name Garden of Dragon Swords, this terrain might actually function as a domain where the Dragon Bone Sword could display heightened resonance.
A quiet breath escaped me as an epiphany clicked into place.
Could my unnatural ease in cleaving these ethereal specters have stemmed from the properties of the blade itself from the very start?
While those realizations were falling into order, my situational awareness dipped for a fraction of a second.
A Sword Wraith, considerably larger and denser than the others, charged directly at my opening.
Its approach was far too swift for me to mount a proper guard.
I wrenched my torso to deflect the brunt of the collision, yet the wraith’s essence still raked across my side.
I bracingly braced myself for a searing tear of pain.
Instead, my body remained completely unaffected, the impact stinging no more severely than a tiny scratch. It defied logic; the Sword Wraith had lunged with unambiguous lethality just as it had toward the other combatants, yet the impact caused negligible damage.
‘I don’t need to hold back at all.’
I completely discarded defensive reservations, launching into the swarm like a creature untamed.
By dedicating every shred of momentum to relentless offense, openings naturally exposed themselves to the surrounding Sword Wraiths.
Yet just like before, every strike that connected against me failed to yield any meaningful trauma.
“Minjun!”
Witnessing me deliberately absorb hit after hit, Taeseong barked a frantic warning from atop his perch.
I flashed a brief signal indicating I was unharmed and continued driving the blade forward with heightened fury.
The rest of the company stared in utter bewilderment alongside Taeseong, but I had neither the focus nor the desire to process their reactions.
With every consecutive stroke, a mysterious, dense current began coiling around my perimeter.
Could this truly be the manifestation of draconic power?
‘No, that doesn’t feel right.’
There was no guarantee, but the probability that an army of mundane Sword Wraiths shared an organic link to dragons was extraordinarily slim.
Then what was this gathering current pulling into the blade?
Even as the question lingered, my arms swung with accelerating rhythm.
Eventually, the sensation inverted: rather than my hands guiding the steel, it felt as though the weapon itself was steering my limbs through the air.
The phenomenon felt remarkably similar to the moment I had unleashed the multi-hued, aurora radiance before.
Yet an underlying distinction remained.
As the gathered volume deepened, the Dragon Bone Sword did not emit the same vivid radiance. Instead, a dull, ash-gray luminosity enveloped the steel, accompanied by a low, resonance vibration.
“W-What is happening to that?!”
WHOOSH!
Before I could firmly grasp the hilt to steady it, the blade wrenched itself completely out of my grip and shot across the air like an arrow toward the towering dragon-sword effigy.
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