Chapter 26

Even though Weed had unified Royal Road and no longer logged in, that didn’t mean he had let go of his sword.

After successfully remodeling his body, most ordinary exercises felt trivial.

But swordsmanship—that still gave him a thrill.

At Master Ahn Hyun-do’s dojo, he could spar endlessly with instructors and senior disciples.

He felt as if he were on the verge of grasping something beyond mere technique.

“It was like the sword was speaking to me.”

He had started learning and wielding a sword even before Royal Road.

As time passed, swordsmanship became the one skill he mastered to the highest degree.

A sword casually swung by him had reached such heights that it looked like a work of art in the eyes of others.

Still, he never fought at full power.

Thanks to his overwhelmingly strong body, he worried that his masters or fellow disciples might get seriously injured.

So he would always restrain his strength and keep the bouts at the level of technical sparring.

Shiiing!

Weed drew his sword.

It was the last day of his vacation.

At the forge, being careful not to draw attention, he mixed black iron and meteorite steel to craft a sword that emitted a soft gleam.

A shining, high-quality sword.

If his blacksmithing skill had been just a bit higher, it might have become a true legendary sword.

Its strength lay in its durability—it didn’t wear down easily, no matter how rough the use.

The swordsmanship instructor, Pankri, spoke with arrogance.

“I’ll specially adjust to your level.”

[…]

You have been matched to the same level as retired mercenary Pankri.

Stats and traits will remain as-is.

Magic has been sealed.

To be acknowledged and learn swordsmanship from Pankri, you must inflict at least one wound on him with your sword.

The bigger the wound, the greater the reward.

“You should consider it an honor to learn from me—now come at me with all you’ve got.”

Blade Dragon Guild House.

Rows of high-quality swords made by Weed were displayed.

“Just by looking at the swords, I can tell—you’re a truly exceptional blacksmith. Not something just anyone can achieve.”

“The first few swords didn’t have high attack power, but their quality improved rapidly.”

Guild Master Polon examined the swords and was impressed.

From the perspective of the ruling Line Guild, these swords might not be mind-blowing, but producing such quality in such a short time was no small feat.

“Appraise.”

Master’s Sword

Material: Steel

Attack Power: 89–113

Durability: 50/50

Weight: 17

Created by a master-level blacksmith.

Razor-sharp and extremely powerful—capable of harming any monster.

Requirements:

Level 50

Strength 40

Options:

+30% to sword skill effectiveness

+2,500 fame

+20 elegance

Very lightweight

+13% attack power

+15 strength

+20% sword skill damage

Creator: Weed

“Even the first sword is great. Balanced well enough for combat…”

Polon was reading the stats when his eyes landed on the name:

Creator: Weed

The moment he saw that name, memories came rushing back.

The one who had devastated the Hermes Guild.

The one who had defeated the most powerful combat forces of that once-dominant guild.

“Weed hasn’t been in virtual reality for a long time now… this must just be someone who coincidentally shares the name.”

Polon tried to think positively. But he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.

It was like he had one foot resting at the gates of hell.

To be sure, he questioned Deucalon.

“What did that blacksmith look like? Any distinguishing features?”

“Brother Weed? He looked pretty average.”

“Was he tall or short?”

“I think he was about average height.”

“What gear was he wearing?”

“Just beginner equipment.”

In Royal Road, Weed often wore beginner gear too.

To avoid durability loss.

Polon’s pupils began to tremble.

“Did he carry a weapon?”

“Even though he’s a blacksmith, he had a sword on him.”

Only those who really knew, knew—Weed’s swordsmanship was legendary in Royal Road history.

Polon, a longtime virtual reality user and former Hermes member, knew.

‘No one ever fought like Weed. Not even once, after all these years.’

Even with the sword equipped, the guy still looked like a regular blacksmith… if one thought positively.

“Also, he worked incredibly fast.”

“What?”

Now a chill crept up Polon’s spine.

“He kept hammering non-stop. Even when I visited, he wouldn’t stop because he said it would waste experience.”

“He didn’t rest?”

“People nearby said he works through the night. And he doesn’t use automation—he crafts everything manually.”

“Manual crafting…”

“It’s old-fashioned, but it really feels like the work of a true artisan. He’s a real grinder.”

At the word grinder, Polon felt his brain go blank.

It was as if all the scattered puzzle pieces suddenly clicked into place… a feeling of utter despair.

‘Why… why him, of all people…?’

Apparently, the disaster that had befallen the Hermes Guild wasn’t punishment enough.

Now, in the death-game world of Roanoke, he had returned.

And this time, as a fated adversary.

“Wait… it’s not over yet. Thankfully, the swords are still here. It hasn’t been long since we took them…”

“What’s wrong all of a sudden?”

“We need to properly assess the value and buy them. Or offer several times the price. Even if we return them, that’s fine.”

“I visited today while patrolling. They said he disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“According to the blacksmiths, he vanished using golden teleportation. Sounds like total nonsense, I know.”

Polon took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

He told himself it was all just a coincidence.

In life, sometimes coincidences stack upon coincidences.

Still, just in case, he tried reaching out.

—Polon: “Mr. Weed, this is Polon, master of the Blade Dragon Guild. You may not remember me, but I was once part of the Hermes Guild. It’s an honor to meet you again. I hope you’ve been well.”

He sent a polite whisper.

Whisper could not be delivered.

This user is in a special area where whispers do not reach.

“…”

Most places in Roanoke, including even the top-tier dungeons and forbidden zones, still allowed whispers.

If they weren’t being delivered, that meant one of two things: either a location only the rarest users could access, or a realm that transcended space and time.

Polon felt the darkness close in on his vision.

“We’re doomed. Absolutely doomed.”

Hell Difficulty – Stage 4.

Weed listened to Instructor Pankri.

“Even if I match my level to yours, it won’t make a difference.”

“…”

“I survived countless battlefields. My swordsmanship was honed through fighting powerful enemies!”

“…”

“It’s natural to feel despair before an insurmountable wall. But it’ll be a valuable experience if you want to grow stronger.”

No one had ever cleared Hell Stage 4 before.

Like a math problem unsolvable even after ten years of study—but solvable in seconds by someone else.

Difficulty was relative.

(No one has entered Hell difficulty with a body that surpasses human limits like Master has.)

(In Stages 1 and 2, you completely dominated the orcs and perfected your hunting.)

(In Stage 3, you even used sculpture techniques.)

Before challenging Hell difficulty, Weed was fully prepared—physically, mentally, and experientially.

With a body beyond human limits and master-level combat skills.

Even that would put him beyond comparison with other users, but he also exploited sculpture techniques as a bonus.

Clearing Stages 1 through 3, he had already far exceeded expected performance in Hell difficulty.

During his vacation, he also boosted his stats and gear with his blacksmith skills.

More importantly, Weed had invested his level-up stats aggressively.

‘What does Agility do again?’

(Primarily affects bow range and arrow speed. Also enhances running speed and, if the enemy has higher agility, there’s a chance their sword might dodge yours.)

‘What if I hit them perfectly?’

(Then miss chances drop significantly.)

While fighting orcs, Weed hadn’t felt the need for agility.

‘Even sloppy swings hit everything.’

(Your position and speed were perfect. Orcs had no chance of avoiding those hits.)

In Royal Road, he had focused on strength and agility.

But in Roanoke, he poured everything into Strength.

Strength. Strength. Strength. Strength.

His already powerful body, combined with full Strength allocation, reached S-rank physical capabilities.

Instructor Pankri beckoned.

“Already scared? Come on, I’ll let you strike 10 times while I only defend.”

He gave Weed ten chances to attack.

Roanoke’s Hell difficulty was the highest tier of challenge.

Pankri, dressed as a knight, might have seemed an immovable wall to others.

But Weed—he had never found a real match in the real world.

“This should be fun. At last, I can fight freely here.”

Weed strode casually toward the instructor.

“Foolishly charging in.”

Pankri briefly thought Weed was a clueless amateur.

But to his shock, there wasn’t a single opening in Weed’s approach.

Shhhk!

Weed swung his sword from attack range—it surged like lightning.

Even the air split audibly.

Pankri raised his sword sideways to block.

KRAAAANG!

The clash was like rock striking rock.

The impact lifted Pankri off his feet.

“Yes, that’s the feeling. So satisfying.”

Weed grinned after the swing.

In real life, he could never swing so recklessly.

An unskilled opponent would die instantly, and even someone like Ahn Hyun-do would have broken wrists and a shattered spine.

“Ten strikes, huh? Don’t fall too easily—try to block them.”

CRASH! BOOM! BAM! SLAM! KRAAAAAANG!

Weed struck directly from the front, making it easier to block.

Pankri had to use both hands just to stay alive.

His sword danced like art, tracing perfect arcs.

But it flew like lightning straight for the instructor’s neck.

“Urgh!”

Pankri managed to block again.

CHIIIING!

Even with a block, the raw power rocked his wrists and shoulders.

It was unthinkable destruction.

‘I helped this guy survive, and this is how he pays me back?’

Though Weed struck ten times, Pankri never even dreamed of countering.

The force was overwhelming, the speed and precision unpredictable.

He didn’t even know where the next strike would come from.

Only when a flash appeared before his eyes could he just barely defend.

“Ugh… how can this be…”

Pankri’s mission was to defeat challengers and teach them swordsmanship.

But if Weed wanted, he could have taken his life already.

“Wall of Swords!”

Pankri activated a skill, spinning his sword in a circular motion.

An advanced sword technique.

Dozens of blades formed a rotating wall.

“You really think that’s enough?!”

Weed’s sword pierced through the gaps.

He tracked the sword movements, found the opening, and struck in a heartbeat.

“This is just too much!”

Pankri, facing an impossibly tall wall he could never scale, felt absolute despair.

Weed’s sword—one moment it was in his hand, the next, it was already right in front of him.