I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

It wasn’t hard to find Panhyma inside the academy.
If you climbed the largest hill nearby early in the morning, you could find her there in most cases.

And in those moments, her behavior was almost always the same.
Soaked with sweat from sword training that started at dawn, she’d be lying face-down on the ground.
“Did the earth have any messages for you?”

“……”
At those words, Panhyma flinched and turned to look at him.
“…How did you know?”

“Excuse me?”
“That I was… ‘communicating’ with the earth. I don’t recall ever telling you that.”
“It looked like it.”

“…You should really work on your habit of glossing over everything without an explanation.”
To an outsider, it might seem like some kind of Far Eastern religious ritual, but Carlyle knew this was a deeply personal ceremony.
He remembered asking about it after seeing her repeat it every morning before sunrise.

—I’m sending a message through the earth.
—Huh?
—To my sister. That I’m coming to find her. That’s what I’m asking the earth to tell her.

…Because she couldn’t say it to her directly.
She asked the ground to deliver her message in her place.
That’s what this ritual was—a silent wish.

She said it was a game she and her sister used to play as children. Trying to communicate through the earth.
And she had never once missed a morning. For more than ten years, she had repeated this ritual.
Even when the continent was engulfed in flames from Hell’s invasion.
Even when the number of survivors had dwindled to almost none, and it became nearly certain her sister had died somewhere—her identity never confirmed.

As if this was the only reason she had to keep living.
As if her family was the only wall left standing between her and death.
—I told her I’d come at sunrise.

No matter when, no matter where.
If you needed me, I’d come running.
Even if I was late, I’d never give up.

I promised I’d come to you at sunrise.
That was the vow she made.
The fact that the katana’s name was Dawnlight surely wasn’t a coincidence.
And it was precisely why Carlyle had come to her now.

“Retty said it’s been fully repaired, so I came to return it.”
With those words, Carlyle held out the katana to Panhyma.
The katana she had once entrusted to him. It was called Dawnlight, wasn’t it?

“Thank you.”
Panhyma’s eyes widened slightly as she took the blade from Carlyle.
She hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“…The righteous shall receive their due reward.”
“I didn’t do this expecting a reward.”
“No. Even if you didn’t, you’ll receive it.”

She shook her head as she continued.
“One who accumulates virtue can move even the heavens. All good intentions return as blessings.”
Whether it was coincidence or karma, she said it would certainly be of help.

“…I hope so.”
It was the final round. Anything helpful was welcome.
As Carlyle nodded, Panhyma smiled and nodded back.

“Then, let’s see.”
She slowly drew the sword—and a sudden spark crackled from it.
Panhyma flinched and turned to Carlyle.

“What was that?”
“I heard they added an interesting feature. Said you’d definitely feel it when drawing the blade.”
“…Why add that to the draw? I don’t understand.”

“I was told all Far Eastern swordsmen use draw techniques…”
“……”
Retty had gone on about it so enthusiastically that Carlyle hadn’t even bothered to argue.

A newly learned fact:
Retty Ingram was a hopeless romantic.
She does understand the appeal, at least.

Draw techniques are cool.
Though the actual swordswoman, Panhyma, just looked at him like he was spouting nonsense.
“…Drawing and cutting in one motion is an assassin’s technique.”

“But it looks cool, so maybe let’s go with it anyway?”
Panhyma accepted it.
Not because she agreed with Retty’s design logic—but more likely because of the heavy sack of gold coins Retty had handed over with the weapon, asking her to share her impressions later.

“Draw techniques are fine.”
“……”
“Might as well put on a little demonstration in front of Chief Retty while I’m at it.”

“……”
In any case—
Now that she had her weapon back, it was safe to say she was fully ready for battle.

Carlyle remembered well—the difference between Panhyma with her blade and without it was night and day.
They needed someone who could display a performance impressive enough to shake the Hero’s stubbornness.
It was time to fully awaken the potential of the one once known as the Sword Saint. Their opponent was none other than the catastrophe-class demonic beast, Black Whale…

…Wait.
Come to think of it—
Crossing the ocean from the Far East to here was said to be an incredible journey.

Carlyle tried to recall a conversation from a previous round.
—I crossed the ocean in a little ferry.
—…

—What scared me most wasn’t any powerful foe—it was the fear of casting my line for three days straight and catching nothing.
…A story that only confirmed this woman was quite mad.
But thinking back on it now, one question surfaced.

That region was the very habitat of the Black Whale. How had she crossed it unharmed?
Being a territorial creature meant it would have attacked any outsider entering its domain.
Carlyle had never thought to ask her before. But curious now, he did—and got a rather interesting reply.

“There’s a well-known legend in the Sacred Nation about the Sea Kings who guard the ocean routes between continents. Thanks to that, I was able to avoid trouble.”
“Sea Kings?”
“Yes. Spirits said to rule the sea.”

…This was the first time he’d heard of such a thing.
She was speaking as though the Far East had detailed records of the Black Whale.
“Of course there are records. It’s a well-known creature among merchants living near the coast.”

Carlyle let out a dry laugh.
Unbelievable.
This was always so strange.

Even after so many regressions, there were still facts Carlyle didn’t know—scattered all over the place.
Small details, but ones that could be critical.
“The Sea Kings are wise and ruthless. But so long as you don’t disturb their young, they never harm travelers crossing the sea. It’s a famous story in the Far East.”

“…Their young?”
“Of course. It’s natural for a mother to become ferocious when she’s protecting her child. The oldest black Sea King has long been known in legend as the Matron of the Azure Sea.”
A flash sparked in Carlyle’s mind.

The instincts of a regressor who had survived countless crises kicked in.
Suddenly—
A thought occurred.

…Good intentions always return as blessings.
That was what Panhyma had said.
And somehow, it didn’t feel like an empty sentiment.

If he hadn’t shown her kindness…
If he hadn’t randomly brought up this topic…
He might never have learned this information.

“Panhyma.”
“Yes?”
“Please tell me more about that story.”

That Far Eastern legend—
He had a strong feeling it would become the most critical piece of information in the Black Whale subjugation.
***

To break Gray’s stubbornness when it came to subjugating the Black Whale, Carlyle couldn’t rely solely on her this time. His own combat power had to increase.
Fortunately, there was someone nearby he could trust to help him evaluate that.
—!

Blades crackled in the air as they clashed.
Though he had shifted focus to raising Gray rather than fighting himself, Carlyle had gathered no small number of techniques over countless regressions.
And they were more than enough to show in live combat.

At the very least, he could go toe-to-toe with Dean Sior.
“—Alright, that’s enough.”
Sior smiled without a drop of sweat on him and raised his hand.

Meanwhile, Carlyle, drenched head to toe, let out a sigh and nodded.
What a monster.
He didn’t radiate the overwhelming pressure of a fully awakened Gray, but he was still a monster whose depth was impossible to gauge.

Carlyle had pulled out every trick in the book short of his fusion technique with the Hero—and yet the gap remained.
“You really are a strange one, huh? I can see why the Gray Cardinal’s so fixated on you.”
“…Strange?”

“You’re a mediocrity, Carlyle Belfast. Not just ordinary—slow, even. Your learning speed is below average for a student.”
“……”
That was… kind of a cheap shot.

Was he picking a fight?
As Carlyle was thinking that, Sior stroked his chin and continued.
“But looking at your results, that’s clearly not the case.”

“What do you mean?”
“Your talent is average, but your swordsmanship operates on a level that lifelong warriors couldn’t reach. It’s a domain no amount of effort would normally allow someone to enter.”
“……”

“You seem like someone who would never lose. Not necessarily win—but never lose.”
A battle style specialized in endurance.
And the reason that worked—

“It’s a style built to support ‘someone else’ who can resolve the situation. You fight as if dragging out time alone guarantees victory.”
“……”
“And in that role, you’re not just skilled—you’re top-tier. No matter the opponent, you can always hold your ground.”

You could tell just from crossing blades with him.
Heroes were all freaks, apparently.
“Your style’s already complete. There’s nothing more I could teach you. What exactly did you want me to check?”

“…This time, just holding out won’t be enough.”
He had to leave an impression on Gray.
For that, he needed to unleash something ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) he’d never used before across all previous rounds—something elegant and overwhelming.

She laughed at how she could copy the Hero’s future finishing moves…
He needed something even greater than that.
So, Carlyle clearly laid out what he needed.

“…Hmm. What power sources can you use right now?”
“Power sources?”
“You fight by amplifying yourself through external means. List them all out. We might get something interesting by combining them.”

“……”
This was almost too efficient—it left Carlyle a little stunned.
He hadn’t expected this level of consulting.

[…Told you. Aside from me, this guy is the strongest one here.]
‘I never said I didn’t believe it. But now I’m really convinced.’
As he thought that, he began listing every ability he could use.

The part that caught the dean’s attention was one particular thing.
“Wait. You can make a body?”
“Excuse me?”

“You said you could materialize the girl inside the Holy Sword, right?”
“…I did?”
He had tried once before.

Tried to give Gray, who dwelled inside the Holy Sword, a physical body.
But even with the Tears of the Stars, which supplied nearly infinite mana, all he managed was a partial hand.
He explained this to Sior, who blinked at him in disbelief.

“…That should be enough.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, I mean…”

Sior looked between the Holy Sword and Carlyle, rubbing his chin.
“You said you can synchronize consciousness with the entity inside, right?”
“I did… though only for about three seconds.”

“That’s fine. That’s all we need.”
Sior grinned.
It was the face of someone who had just come up with a very good idea.

“For those three seconds, I think you’ll scare even your junior out of her mind. I’ve got a plan.”
“…Really?”
“If you’re willing to risk dying from the aftereffects if you screw it up.”

“……”
…This old man?