I Can See the Sword’s Memories

Chapter 9

The place Saeorin was directed to was a small room prepared for the entrance test. It had originally been built as a waiting area for gladiators about to compete in the colosseum, but now it was fully opened up for the knight order’s entrance exam.

By the time Saeorin arrived, the entrance tests were already in full swing. Saeorin discreetly positioned himself at the end of the queue for the Cheongik entrance test.

The test itself seemed simple enough: applicants had to exchange a few blows with the examiner. That appeared to be the entire test.

Victory wasn’t required. As long as the applicant demonstrated a certain level of skill, a passing score was generously granted. Saeorin carefully observed the movements of the examiner.

While Saeorin focused on the examiner, the other applicants, especially the men, began to focus on him.

It was a natural reaction—instinctive, like a biological drive to preserve their species. Many of them pretended otherwise but couldn’t help sneaking glances at Saeorin.

Some applicants even failed their tests because they were too distracted by Saeorin’s appearance. 

Of course, they likely would have failed regardless—few were foolish enough to ruin their chances just because of a beautiful stranger.

Saeorin had to wait quite a while. Applicants from all over the country were taking the entrance exam, so the queue was long.

“Failed.”

“Failed.”

“Passed!”

As time went on, the applicants were split into those who passed and those who didn’t. 

The successful ones smiled, while the unsuccessful ones simmered with anger. Some even challenged the examiner’s decision.

However, such protests amounted to nothing. Each one was swiftly dealt with—the examiner struck them down and chased them out of the testing area.

Saeorin, unaffected by the commotion around him, continued to focus solely on the examiner’s movements.

‘They’re not just assessing swordsmanship. They’re observing everything—eye movement, breathing, presence, and all the essentials of combat.’

This was the conclusion Saeorin reached after closely studying all the examiners present. One other peculiar observation stood out: all the examiners used the same sword style.

It was straightforward and upright. At times it was strong, at others soft. The style consisted of four core techniques: slashing, thrusting, blocking, and parrying. These moves were seamlessly executed as needed for the situation.

Saeorin began to imagine the upcoming match.

What if he faced one of the examiners?

The first attempt—failure.
The second attempt—failure.
The third and fourth attempts—failure.

Even the fifth scenario ended the same way: Saeorin couldn’t defeat the examiner.

This was only natural, and Saeorin wasn’t disappointed. He knew that none of the five sword styles he had inherited were true swordsmanship.

Thus, he considered a different approach. There was no need to fully utilize any single sword style. Instead, he could adapt by changing styles as needed. His breathing shifted, introducing irregular movements into his form.

Even then, the results didn’t change. Combining flawed techniques still resulted in flawed techniques.

Even the chieftain’s swordsmanship, which Saeorin had been most confident in, was no exception. A style born purely from instinct couldn’t surpass the impenetrable walls of the Empire.

“Number 1032! Saeorin!”

The call snapped him out of his thoughts. His name had been called. Saeorin stepped out of the line and walked forward.

As Saeorin approached, the examiner spoke.

“You cannot use your own swords. For safety, you’ll use one of the weapons we’ve provided. If you have any objections, speak now.”

Saeorin was already aware of this rule from watching previous applicants. He set his belongings down in a corner and accepted the sword handed to him by the examiner.

And that’s when it happened.

‘Ah.’

The memories etched into the sword began to flow into Saeorin, transcending time.

The sword’s users weren’t just one or two people. There were at least ten. Over the five years since its creation, every wielder who had used this sword left their traces within it, and those memories were now embedding themselves into Saeorin.

‘Dawn of the Empire.’

That was the name of the swordsmanship the examiner used. It was a foundational style taught to every recruit upon joining the Karma Empire’s knight order.

A swordsmanship designed for universal use. And because of that, it was extraordinary. Saeorin could sense the creator’s struggles—it was a remarkably considerate style, crafted to ensure even the dullest minds could learn it.

“When you’re ready, let me know. We’ll begin immediately.”

Hoo—

A soft exhalation steadied Saeorin’s excitement. As he processed the memories being etched into his body, he raised his sword toward the examiner.

He couldn’t perfectly replicate the swordsmanship right away. He needed time to familiarize himself with the memories and for his body to adapt.

But for now, this was enough. He had grasped the essence of the opponent’s swordsmanship. 

He understood how it moved and what techniques to use in various situations. The previous wielders of the sword were showing him the way.

He couldn’t win. But he wouldn’t lose either.

“I’m ready.”

As soon as Saeorin finished speaking, the examiner began to move.

A step surged forward in a straight line. At the same time, the sword in his right hand sprang into motion. Saeorin’s gaze flowed over the examiner’s shoulder and arm.

‘A downward slash starting from the upper right.’

He could see it—the opponent’s movement. He could visualize the sequence that would follow.

Relying on vivid memories, Saeorin stepped back to his right and then retreated significantly.

Swoosh—!

Silver-white hair fluttered as the pursuing blade narrowly missed its target, brushing past with only the width of a paper’s edge to spare. Saeorin, having evaded the strike, swung his sword in a counterattack.

The slash, originating from his slender arm, began to carve through the air. But then, the examiner abruptly halted, forcefully pushing off the ground to retreat.

Thud!

After stepping back, they faced each other in silence. For the first time, the examiner, who had shown no expression until now, displayed a hint of surprise on his face.

“Your eyes are sharp… and your instincts are keen.”

It was the first time the examiner, who had been relentlessly critical, offered praise. All eyes in the area began to converge on the scene.

Saeorin’s eyes widened. The examiner, who had just complimented him, relaxed his stance and sheathed his sword.

He showed no further intention of engaging in combat. Just as Saeorin was about to ask what was going on, the examiner spoke.

“Pass!”

From the start of the entrance test to the announcement of the results, it had taken no more than ten seconds. Saeorin and the examiner had exchanged only a single sequence of moves.

This was an anomaly.

It was an unprecedented judgment for such a swift pass, causing murmurs to ripple through the room.

– What did he even do to pass?

– Used charm, maybe?

– Idiot. Do you think imperial knights would fall for something like that?

“What are you standing there for? Move to the next location.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Saeorin snapped out of his thoughts at the examiner’s words. The unexpected turn of events—the sudden fortune and resulting success—led him to wonder if fate had guided him here.

He walked slowly toward the next location, aware that every movement he made was being closely observed. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

As he walked, Saeorin brushed his hair back with his hand.

At that moment, Saeorin locked eyes with a boy entering the testing grounds.

Just as Saeorin recognized him, the boy also recognized Saeorin.

“Oh…!”

Saeorin watched Theo’s face closely. Surprise, shock, suspicion, and then surprise again—all of these emotions flickered across Theo’s expression in rapid succession. It was quite amusing.

Theo had mentioned that he would also be taking the entrance exam. Saeorin smiled at him.

“Go ahead first.”

“What? What? Where are you going? Hey… hey?”

Saeorin walked past Theo without looking back, ignoring his calls. To Saeorin, Theo held no greater significance than that.

The next location Saeorin was led to was inside the colosseum. The vast arena, designed for gladiatorial combat, was surrounded by makeshift tents in all areas except the central battlefield.

“Wait here until evening. After the first round of testing concludes today, there will be a tournament among the successful applicants.”

With those instructions, the staff member left. Alone, Saeorin stepped into one of the tents and closed his eyes.

He focused on recalling the memories imprinted into him through the sword earlier.

Saeorin’s unique talent had a clear drawback. If he let go of a sword before the memories engraved into it were fully assimilated, those memories would fade and become blurry.

This issue hadn’t existed at first. It had emerged after being reincarnated into his younger sister’s body.

“Hoo…”

Concentrating on the sensations of that time, Saeorin delved deep into his mind, trying to grasp the hazy memories with all his focus.

***

The sun set, and night fell. Braziers placed around the tents blazed, pushing back the darkness.

“From the frozen mountain range—Saeorin!”

Saeorin opened his eyes at the call of his name and stepped out of the tent. A cool night breeze gently swept through, brushing his silver-white hair.

Saeorin’s opponent was a boy who seemed to be about the same age as Theo. He wore a nervous expression, as though unaccustomed to such an environment.

Saeorin inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of the breeze. A person’s scent changes when they’re nervous or excited, and Saeorin could tell the boy’s true state from the smell.

The boy wasn’t nervous. He was merely pretending to be, trying to bait Saeorin into underestimating him.

It was almost laughable.

There was a rule requiring combatants to exchange greetings before the match began.

Saeorin and the boy approached each other and exchanged brief introductions.

“Saeorin.”

“To-Tommy…! That’s my name!”

After the introductions, the match began. Tommy maintained his act until the end. His clumsy movements were designed to lull his opponent into a false sense of security, while he swung his sword to feign vulnerability.

But Saeorin already knew his intentions. With precise movements, the small girl deflected Tommy’s sword with a deft swipe, then delivered a powerful counterattack by rotating her wrist sharply.

Clang—! Thud—!

The sound of steel clashing was followed by a heavy impact.

“Gah…!”

Tommy collapsed to the ground after being struck by Saeorin’s sword. The match was decided in a single exchange. If Tommy had fought sincerely, the outcome might have been slightly different.

“Winner: Saeorin!”

As Saeorin exhaled deeply, she reflected on the hazy memories imprinted in her mind. 

Swordsmanship wasn’t created purely for offense. Defense and offense had to flow as one, seamlessly transitioning and connecting with natural movements.

In those faint memories, Saeorin had rediscovered the fundamentals of wielding a sword.