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Prologue
A colossal battleground engulfing the entire world had emerged.
The reward promised: an absolute power capable of controlling the whole world.
And so, all kinds of people gathered around the battlefield.
Those who set the stage.
Those who jumped into it themselves.
Those who simply observed.
Those who tried to profit from the chaos.
And I…
“What a load of crap.”
…I’m the one who intends to flip the table.
Chapter 1. Metamorphosis (1)
Boring.
That was how the man known as “the monster wearing human skin” viewed the world.
Twenty-five years had passed since he first held a sword.
The path he had walked was drenched entirely in blood.
Fights, battles, wars.
His life had been nothing but endless struggle, and victory was the only proof of his existence.
At fifteen, his first victory claimed someone’s life.
When he had slain a hundred, his name became known to the world.
With his thousandth victory, his name was bathed in glory.
After breaking ten thousand swords, people praised him.
And when he single-handedly destroyed an entire nation, the world feared him.
And then…
When there were no more swords to break.
No more enemies to face.
The world, kneeling beneath his feet, revered him as the Master of the Sword.
He had faced crises but never defeat.
The strongest being to walk the earth, undefeated in every battle.
The one said to have reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship attainable by humans.
Sword Master, Luke Rider.
And what came to this absolute being who had achieved everything… was crushing loneliness.
Having lived for nothing but battle, a life drowned in silence was nothing short of agony.
He was only forty.
Yet he still thirsted for combat.
He wanted to go even further.
To become stronger.
But…
“There are no more swords left to break.”
Nowhere in the world remained a being capable of opposing him.
And so he lamented this fact.
Then, a thought flashed through the mind of the absolute being.
“A sword to oppose me…”
There was no challenger in this generation—because he had crushed them all.
In that case…
“I’ll forge one myself.”
A sharp blade that could cross swords with him joyously.
A worthy opponent from the next generation who would aim for his heart.
One he would raise with his own hands.
“Good… Good!”
The mere thought filled him with excitement and glee.
A glimmer of madness flickered in his eyes as he looked upon the world.
Before long, a single announcement spread like wildfire across the globe:
[Those with talent, come to me!]
This was both the absolute being’s promise and…
[I shall become the fertile soil upon which your talents may bloom. And in return…]
…the proclamation of a festival of blood.
[Plunge your blade into my heart! Whoever severs my neck shall inherit all that I am!]
The world erupted in chaos at the Sword Master’s declaration.
The Sword Master’s legacy.
Some said it was his ultimate enlightenment.
Some said it was the absolute authority to rule the world.
Some said it was the inheritance of everything he possessed.
Whatever it truly was, to inherit the Sword Master’s legacy meant to rule the continent.
Those confident in their abilities grew greedy and excited, and the talented flocked to the Sword Master’s festival.
Forty-two years have passed since that declaration.
The festival, now known as the “Seizure of the Sword Throne,” continued.
Day by day, more blood was shed as countless sought to claim the absolute throne.
