I Can See the Sword’s Memories

Chapter 6

As Saeorin observed the cityscape, he came across a strange sight. Soldiers clad in armor were leading a boy bound in chains toward a large plaza.

“L-let me go! Do you even know who I am? I’m here to save this world!”

The boy, despite being dragged along, kept talking incessantly. He ranted about how he didn’t deserve such treatment, how they would regret this, and how a great evil would resurrect and endanger the world. To Saeorin, he sounded like a senile shaman from the White Frost Tribe.

The people around seemed accustomed to such scenes. No one paid the boy even a glance, not even the soldiers dragging him.

Saeorin stopped a man passing by and asked him a question.

“Hey.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yes, you. What did that boy do to deserve being dragged off like that?”

“Oh, that?”

Saeorin’s brow twitched at the man’s response. Referring to the boy as “that” made it sound like he wasn’t even a person. The man didn’t regard the boy as an equal.

The man looked at the boy and grimaced.

“It’s because he’s a reincarnator, of course.”

“A… reincarnator? That boy?”

Saeorin was startled by the man’s answer. Until now, he had thought “reincarnator” was the name of the man who had destroyed his tribe.

Now, he learned something new:

Reincarnator wasn’t a singular entity but a term referring to multiple individuals.

“So, reincarnators weren’t just one person… It wasn’t his name…”

While Saeorin was grappling with this revelation, the soldiers dragged the reincarnator boy to a gallows in the central plaza.

Saeorin looked up at the scene and asked, “What’s going on up there?”

“They’re executing him, of course. He’s a reincarnator.”

Execution. It meant they were going to kill him. Saeorin stared blankly at the gallows. The boy, despite being restrained, writhed and resisted with all his might.

“L-let me go! I’m the protagonist who can’t die!”

That was the boy’s last statement.

With a heavy thunk, the massive blade of the guillotine fell, severing the boy’s head.

A quiet breeze carried the metallic scent of blood. The townsfolk wandering around the plaza began whispering to each other as they glanced at the gallows.

  -“Another reincarnator execution?”

  – “So it seems. That’s the fifth one this year, isn’t it?”

  –  “I heard he tried to sell mayonnaise to a merchant. If not for that merchant, they wouldn’t have caught him so easily.”

  – “Good thing they killed him before he could grow stronger…”

Saeorin listened carefully to the murmurs around him. Though some of the terms were hard to understand, one thing was clear: civilized people held intense hostility toward those they called reincarnators.

He turned his head, intending to ask another question to the man he had just spoken to.

But the man was gone. While Saeorin had been concentrating on the voices around him, the man had slipped away.

Left alone, Saeorin resumed walking. He had no particular destination, but he wanted to take in more of the unfamiliar sights.

As he wandered the city, he took mental notes of potential places to stay the night. He eventually settled on a secluded spot in a narrow alley where few people passed.

That night, Saeorin began to learn the ways of the civilized world. The first concept he grasped was money. To acquire goods or hire someone’s labor, one needed currency.

And to earn money, one had to sell their labor.

Saeorin roamed the outskirts of the city, hunting wild animals and skinning them to sell their hides. Thanks to his exceptional skinning skills, his hides fetched a good price.

The second thing Saeorin learned was that sleeping on the streets attracted unwanted attention. This led him to decide to build a makeshift shelter in a corner of the city.

However, the city guards discovered and dismantled it before it could be completed. Left with no choice, Saeorin spent a significant amount of money to rent a room at an inn.

***
One Week Later

A week had passed.

Saeorin walked toward the blacksmith’s shop, his money pouch now considerably heavier. Recently, he had developed a new hobby—picking out used swords.

He would spend money to buy swords previously owned by others and then read the memories contained within them to gain knowledge.

Of course, this didn’t greatly improve his swordsmanship. After all, swords used by lowly warriors weren’t likely to carry the memories of refined techniques.

The memories imbued in these cheap blades were crude and unpolished—lacking elegance or sophistication, often little more than clumsy bravado.

Most of them were like that.

Once again, Saeorin rummaged through the used sword display, searching for something new to learn.

“Hey, Saeorin. You mentioned you were gathering information about reincarnators, right?”

The blacksmith, a muscular man with a rough appearance but a kind heart, spoke to him.

Saeorin nodded. It wasn’t a fact he needed to hide, and the blacksmith, who had shared food with him, was someone he considered a benefactor.

Saeorin never forgot the name of someone who had shared food with him.

“Yes, Puak.”

“It’s Puhark…”

Close enough. Saeorin ignored the correction and continued to search the display. Puhark persisted with his questions.

“What’s your reason for collecting information about reincarnators?”

“…For revenge.”

“Revenge?”

Saeorin nodded again. Puhark, as if understanding something, nodded sympathetically.

There were countless people who had suffered at the hands of reincarnators. Many shared similar stories to Saeorin’s. Puhark could at least vaguely grasp Saeorin’s feelings.

“You said you know how to use a sword, right?”

Puhark felt sorry for Saeorin. While seeking vengeance against reincarnators was a worthy cause, there were limits to what a young girl could achieve on her own.

“If that’s the case, why not head to the Karma Empire?”

“The Karma Empire?”

“Yes. Go there and join the Azure Wings. They’re an organization with the same goals as you.”

Puhark briefly explained the Azure Wings. It was a knightly order established by the Karma Empire. Their sole purpose: hunting and killing reincarnators born into this world.

“You understand, don’t you? There are limits to what one person can do alone.”

Saeorin nodded. Puhark wasn’t wrong. Saeorin had already learned through experience that it was better to face challenges with others than alone.

‘When hunting difficult prey, I always had my brothers by my side. This time won’t be any different. If this Azure Wings group shares my goal, they could be of great help…’

Saeorin wasn’t foolish. He didn’t cling to some ridiculous notion that vengeance had to be achieved through his strength alone. If he could use someone else’s hand to kill his enemy, that would suffice.

“How do I get to this Karma Empire?”

Puhark fetched a worn map from the back of the smithy.

“This map shows the regions near the Karma Empire.”

Saeorin tucked the map into his bag. He glanced at Puhark, now sensing why the man was being so kind to him.

In the White Frost Tribe, men often showed kindness and affection to women they fancied. If the woman accepted this kindness, it could lead to a relationship.

The courtship rituals of the civilized people didn’t seem all that different. Puhark was likely no exception.

Saeorin brushed a hand across his forehead. His sister’s body was far too striking. Even at a young age, it captivated men, and the thought of future troubles already loomed over him.

Saeorin spoke.

“Puhark, I’m sorry, but I’m too young. I can’t accept your feelings.”

“What…?”

“I appreciate your kindness, but I think you should look for someone else.”

With those words, Saeorin handed Puhark five small coins—payment for the used sword he had chosen.

“W-wait, what are you even talking about?”

“I’ll be leaving now. Don’t be discouraged, and I hope you find a good match. If fate allows, we might meet again.”

Returning from the smithy, Saeorin packed his belongings. His luggage wasn’t much—just a few sets of clothes, a pouch of money, three used swords, and the chieftain’s sword.

With his destination set, Saeorin left the city without hesitation that very day.

***

Two Months Later

Two months after leaving the city, Saeorin finally reached the territory of the Karma Empire. By then, he looked no better than a beggar.

He had encountered bandits, survived monster attacks, and barely escaped death multiple times. 

Those two months taught Saeorin much about the cruelty, cunning, and ignorance of the civilized people.

While reflecting on his journey with a long sigh, he noticed movement in the bushes by the roadside. A boy stepped out, a long sword strapped to his waist.

The boy’s eyes met Saeorin’s in midair.

Without a word, Saeorin placed a hand on his sword. Five swords hung from the belt slung across his back.