Chapter 17 – A Simple Misunderstanding

Years.

That’s how long it felt since I’d last trained a real newbie. My days had dissolved into a boring, predictable cycle. Wake up. Drink tea. Watch the clouds. Try not to die of boredom for a second time. My previous life as a salaried employee was a frantic blur of deadlines and overtime. Back then, this quiet, work-free existence was the ultimate dream. Now, it just felt like a gilded cage. I actually missed having something to do.

I missed the early days on the mountain. The clang of a beginner’s sword hitting a training post. The flash of insight in a student’s eyes when a technique finally clicked. The satisfaction of watching them grow, of seeing their clumsy efforts transform into something strong and graceful. Now, my disciples were all monsters in their own right. They didn’t need me to teach them basic footwork anymore. They needed me to be a symbol, a god on a throne, a final boss kept safely locked away at the top of the level.

The whole situation with the lost sword was the most excitement I’d had in ages. Siegfried’s disciple, Leo, had managed to track it down. Apparently, some kid from the underworld had found it. A part of me was morbidly curious. What kind of person would stumble upon a blade humming with that much power? I half-expected my disciples to just kill the boy and bring the sword back. It would have been the clean, simple, and terrifyingly plausible solution.

Instead, they brought him here. They dragged him to the base of the mountain to train him. The irony was suffocating. I, the Grand Master, was desperate for a new student, and they had one stashed away at the bottom of the hill, completely off-limits to me. Every time I asked about him, I got the same answer. He wasn’t ready. He was too weak. The air up here would kill him. It was always some excuse to keep me chained to my veranda.

I needed a walk. The polished wood of my private quarters felt too smooth, too perfect. I slid open the shoji screen and stepped out into the crisp mountain air. The path winding through the village was, as always, immaculate. Not a single stone was out of place. In the distance, the faint, rhythmic clash of training swords provided a steady backbeat to the whisper of the wind through the pines. It was a good vibe, mostly.

I passed by the gallery of statues my disciples had so thoughtfully erected in my honor. On the right, the Radiant Path’s marble monstrosities showed me healing small animals and teaching smiling children. I looked serene, gentle, and utterly fictional. On the left, the Ashen Guard’s obsidian nightmares depicted me snarling over demon corpses and forging swords with muscles I definitely didn’t possess. I looked like a psycho.

I forced my eyes forward, trying to ignore the secondhand cringe that washed over me every time I saw them. My gaze landed on two figures standing further down the path, deep in conversation. It was Sakura and Elizabeth. There was no sign of Seda, which meant she was probably off with her own faction, planning some new, elegant way to worship me that would give me a migraine. My disciples were so damn chuunibyou.

Sakura stood with her usual perfect posture, a ledger tucked under her arm. All business, as always. Elizabeth stood beside her, a stark contrast. She was coiled energy, her arms crossed over her chest. Even standing still, she looked like she could punch a hole through the mountain. The air between them was tense, a silent battlefield of their opposing ideologies. This was probably a bad idea.

Talking couldn’t hurt. Probably.

I walked toward them, my sandals making soft sounds on the packed earth. They stopped talking as I approached, turning to face me in perfect unison.

“Hi Sakura. Hi Elizabeth.”

Their reaction was immediate and synchronized. They both bowed deeply, their heads lowered in reverence. I still found the whole formal etiquette thing bizarre. I was just a guy who liked forging swords.

“Greetings, Grand Master.”

I gave them a lazy wave, trying to project a vibe of total chill that I absolutely did not feel.

“What were you two talking about?”

Elizabeth’s sharp eyes met mine. It felt less like a look and more like a tactical assessment. She was scanning me for weaknesses. Sakura remained respectfully silent, deferring to the leader of the Ashen Guard.

“About the boy with the sword.”

Her voice was as sharp as her gaze.

“We were wondering why you chose him.”

My brain screeched to a halt.

Chose him? I didn’t choose anyone. I just chucked a piece of junk onto the wrong pile. My first instinct was to tell them the truth. To just admit it was a stupid, careless mistake. But then I pictured the look in Elizabeth’s eyes. The cold, hard logic of the Ashen Guard. If the boy wasn’t chosen, then he was just a thief. A piece of underworld filth who had dared to touch the Master’s property. They wouldn’t just take the sword back. They would eliminate the complication. Permanently.

I needed a lie. A good one. And I needed it five seconds ago. My mind raced, sifting through possibilities. What kind of grand, master-like reason could I possibly have for giving a divine weapon to a random kid?

“He could be of great value.”

The words came out before I could second-guess them. I paused, letting the statement hang in the air. They were both staring at me, their expressions rapt, hanging on my every word. Okay, so far so good.

“You know.”

I gestured vaguely, trying to look thoughtful and mysterious.

“As a symbol.”

I let the lie grow, feeding it more details to make it sound plausible. Or at least, plausible to them.

“Think about it. We take someone from the lower world. Someone weak. And with the right training, with the right tools, he becomes strong. He becomes a beacon.”

I finished, holding my breath. It sounded like something out of one of the bad light novels I used to read. It was just the kind of over-the-top, dramatic nonsense they might actually believe.

Elizabeth’s eyes, which had been narrowed in suspicion, suddenly lit up with a terrifying, fanatical glint. A slow, cold smile spread across her face. It was not a friendly smile. It was the smile of someone who had just been handed the keys to the apocalypse.

“Oh.”

The single word was filled with a dawning, horrifying realization.

“The master is finally making a move for domination.”

My entire thought process blue-screened.

What? Domination? What in the world was she talking about? I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. I didn’t want to dominate anything! I wanted to take a nap! How did “beacon of strength” get twisted into “let’s start a holy war”? I replayed my own words in my head. Okay, maybe the “beacon” part was a bit much. But world conquest? That was a leap. A massive, terrifying, Olympic-level leap.

I opened my mouth to argue. To tell her she had it all wrong, that I was just trying to keep them from murdering a child over a glorified paperweight. But then I looked at her face. The absolute conviction. The burning zeal. It would be pointless. Arguing with Elizabeth was like trying to explain the concept of “chill” to a volcano. She heard what she wanted to hear. My words were just raw material for her to build her own insane conclusions.

A wave of utter exhaustion washed over me. I gave up.

I just nodded slowly, putting on an expression that I hoped looked like “yes, this was my secret, convoluted plan all along” and not “I am so done with all of this.”

It seemed to work. Her smile widened.

Without another word, I turned and started walking away. I could feel their intense stares on my back. I needed to get away before they asked me to elaborate on my “plan for domination,” which would probably involve me inventing troop movements and supply chain logistics on the spot.

I needed to find someone sane. Or, failing that, a different flavor of insane.

It was time to talk to Seda.