The blizzard grew fiercer by the moment. At last, they had reached the northernmost edge. It was bitter and desolate.
“Iris.”
Even in his final moments, he wiped away her tears.
“Don’t cry.”
“D-Don’t say that. Please.”
Iris fumbled, trying to cover the man’s wounds with her trembling hands.
But her hands were too small to cover the injuries, which only deepened into a crimson stain.
‘Why, Cedric?’
Surely his end should have been a brilliant, radiant one.
“I love you.”
Iris wanted to say it. That she loved him too.
“I don’t know much else, but it annoys me that I can’t clearly see your face right now.”
I’ll make sure you can see me. No matter what it takes.
As long as you stay alive in front of me. That’s what she should have said.
“Ce-Cedric.”
He couldn’t hear her words and his hand slipped away. Coldness creeping through his body, Iris hurriedly grasped his hand.
“No, no.”
What was she denying? She did not know.
But she knew everything was wrong.
His death, this incomprehensible world.
Why was the heavens so cruel to this man?
“Tch. Always a bothersome one, even at the end.”
At the cold voice behind her, Iris turned her head.
Two men in red armor and a blonde woman stood watching her.
The first to speak was a dignified red-armored man.
“A disgraceful bloodline that betrayed the royal family. Just spoiled my mood.”
He was her father.
The younger man beside him spoke next.
“Iris, don’t be so pitiful. I’ll find you another match.”
He was her older brother.
The blonde woman, smiling brightly, chimed in innocently.
“Sis, how long are you going to sulk like this? I’m cold, you know.”
She was her younger sister.
The ones who slaughtered her beloved and humiliated her were all family.
Family who had abandoned her.
Drops of Iris’s tears fell onto Cedric’s palm.
Fragments of memories with Cedric flashed through her pale mind.
‘You don’t love yourself at all.’
The first time he met Iris, he said that.
‘It’s alright. Then I will protect you.’
Protect from what, she had wondered.
But now she understood.
“So you mean protecting me from myself.”
For someone like me, who doesn’t love herself, you vowed to protect me.
Why did I only come to regret this now?
“Then…”
Cedric. This time, I will protect you.
In this world where everyone seeks to pull you down, I will bring you the conclusion you deserve.
So that you may shine truly.
Iris, who had been sitting weakly, slowly rose to her feet.
“Iris!”
Ignoring her family’s calls, she sprinted toward the white sword lying on the ground.
The holy sword glowing faintly with light.
The root of all these troubles.
[...The Sacred Sword grants wishes.]
Yet now, it stood as the sole beacon of hope to restore everything lost.
Even this, however, was far from certain. Still, for the insignificant Iris, it was all she could cling to.
The radiant aura surrounding the Sacred Sword intensified, as if calling out to Iris herself.
As she gripped the blade, it resonated in response.
“Return his fate to him.”
It was the first time she had spoken with such fierce desperation.
“If you are the gods who determined his cursed fate!”
Throwing aside the scabbard, Iris raised the sword high.
“No!”
Her family’s screams and the sound of blades piercing flesh echoed simultaneously.
With hands stained by Cedric’s blood, Iris plunged the sword into her own abdomen.
Her blood mingled with Cedric’s on her body. Tears streamed down her face, yet she smiled.
Amid the spreading whiteness before her eyes, only Cedric remained clear.
Iris reached out, tracing his form with trembling fingertips, though unable to touch him.
“Forgive me.”
She called to him in a voice he could no longer hear.
“You...”
Gradually, even Cedric’s figure blurred and faded.
At last, Iris closed her eyes, hot tears flowing down her cheeks.
‘I love you.’
And then, time rewound.
Iris slowly opened her eyes.
‘A sight both familiar and strange.’
She rose gently, brushing away the blanket within reach.
‘Did I really come back?’
From the canopy above to the blankets below—all were things Iris had used at the Valentine estate.
Some items were even those her younger sister Liliana had once taken, claiming a sudden need, making the scene all the more vivid.
How could she ever forget this room?
The quietest corner where she had spent her childhood years.
Iris stood and faced the mirror.
“I’m… back.”
Reflected was a nineteen-year-old Iris Valentine, before marrying Cedric.
The Valentine family was the empire’s most prestigious order of holy knights.
The current head, Kaidrich, bore an overwhelming pride in the family’s legacy.
“No worthless children are needed under my roof.”
This was the unyielding creed of Kaidrich Valentine.
And Iris Valentine had been cast as the ‘disgraceful child’ in their eyes.
There was no avoiding it.
Iris was no prodigy; all her family besides her were geniuses.
Her elder brother, the heir, had manifested his sword aura at the tender age of six—a true prodigy.
Her younger sister, inheriting their mother’s grace, was not only a genius swordswoman but also the shining star of high society.
At six years old, Iris clenched her hair in sorrow.
She had inherited neither her father’s fiery red hair nor her mother’s golden locks.
“That girl… who even knows where she came from?”
Iris’s hair was a pale lavender, almost silver.
While her family was praised like crimson peonies, Iris was like a solitary bellflower, out of place among them.
All the more reason she yearned to become a true Valentine.
“...It’s okay.”
On the day she alone was excluded from the family’s grand party.
Iris murmured quietly to herself,
“You just have to try.”
Being a Valentine, she thought, she could just work even harder.
Day after day, she came to the training grounds.
“Ah!”
Her palm split open—but she never dropped her sword.
Truly, Iris pushed herself to the brink of death.
All for the sake of proving her worth.
Blisters formed and burst repeatedly on her delicate hands, calluses hardened over. This was when she was only nine years old.
Yet nothing changed.
“Don’t waste your time, Iris.”
“Big sister knows well—honestly, you have no talent.”
Her family’s disdain for her pathetic swordsmanship weighed on her.
“Useless.”
Iris never asked for praise.
She only wished that her father wouldn’t call her that even once.
‘Am I just no good?’
Iris always hit a wall.
‘If only I could wield even the faintest sword energy...’
But that solid, immovable barrier stifled any growth in her cultivation.
At sixteen, Iris decided to call it talent.
Before that unbreakable wall, her spirit slowly eroded.
At first, she was frustrated.
Then she suffered.
Soon, she grew numb.
“Yeah. I’m not fit to be a Valentine.”
She accepted her fate—but still did not drop the sword.
“At least you’re the only one who stays by my side.”
When everyone scorned her, the only thing that remained was the sword itself.
‘I will leave the clan.’
Iris prepared steadily to depart.
If she was only going to drag down her family by staying, it was better for everyone if the root of all discord disappeared.
Even if that meant a happy hell for Iris herself.
But her family continued to treat her like a tool to the very end.
“Disownment is denied, Iris.”
A week before her ordination, her marriage was arranged.
Her fiancé was the Duke of Leonthaime—a man beautiful but known for his cruel and savage nature.
The Emperor commanded the political marriage as a means to check the Duke’s power.
‘I can’t even run away.’
Even her wings—weak though they were—were clipped.
For the first and last time, Iris cried out loud.
She could escape nowhere.
Bound to an arranged marriage like a pawn on a chessboard.
The day before the wedding, Iris, as always, headed to the training grounds.
The clan knights, who usually arrived after her, were already there and whispered as they watched her.
“She’s really pathetic.”
“Why bother training when she’ll be living comfortably after marriage?”
“Even if she practices, she won’t touch a sword after the wedding.”
These were the very people who had always tiptoed around Iris. But now that she was about to leave the clan, their true colors showed.
Quietly standing, Iris listened, then walked right up to them.
Their rude chuckles died instantly as if her presence silenced them.
Iris spoke calmly,
“Why? Keep talking.”
“Ah, miss.”
“It’s always been the rule to arrive at the training grounds before the seventh hour.”
But now, the time had long passed the seventh hour.
Watching them hesitate and remain silent, Iris slowly raised her sword.
“I leave tomorrow anyway. Before then, I want to spar with you all once.”
One tall disciple raised his hand.
“Then, with whom among us...?”
“With all of you.”
“What?”
His face twisted as if hearing nonsense.
“Don’t worry,” Iris said calmly, nodding slowly.
“You may all draw your swords at once.”
The knights hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.
‘For someone like Lady Iris...’
‘She lacks the swordsmanship worthy of the Valentine name. That’s why she’s being sent away.’
In their memories, Iris was only the one scolded for falling short of the family’s standards.
‘If it’s all of us, then it might be worth trying.’
But they were gravely mistaken.
“Hah—!”
One knight swung his longsword in a heavy arc.
Iris’s sword moved before his—almost as if she anticipated his strike.
She met the blade head-on, twisting her wrist fluidly to deflect the strike.
The attacking knight staggered from her deft response.
Taking an elegant step forward, Iris wrapped her blade around his and swept it upward in one swift motion.
“Ugh—!”
In just two strikes, one knight fell.
“Everyone, move!”
The others, catching on, raised their swords and attacked.
Yet they hadn’t even grasped the true nature of their opponent.
Iris weaved gracefully through the chaos of bewildered knights.
She dodged flying blades, slipped past them, and preemptively blocked to subdue.
The knights, confused, nearly struck each other in their reckless assaults.
“Ho-how is this possible...?”
As they prepared to attack again,
Iris vanished without a trace.
From outside their sight, she reappeared, sword poised to strike with pinpoint accuracy, forcing a knight to lose grip.
It was as if she read their thoughts.
Clang—!
Another knight’s sword flew through the air, defeated.
The famed Valentine family, renowned holy knights,
were praised far and wide for their swordsmanship.
Her father’s blade was fierce and raw.
Her elder brother’s was orthodox and precise.
Her younger sister’s dazzling and flamboyant.
But Iris’s blade was silence.
Her every move mirrored water—
flowing so smoothly no one could sense it, then freezing suddenly like ice,
piercing the opponent’s weakest point without warning.
There was no evading it.
For water is always present elsewhere.
“—Aah!”
In the end, the last remaining knight crumpled to the ground, his wrist broken. The moment he looked up in a daze, the tip of a sword was pressed against his nose.
“Pick up your sword again.”
The knights sprawled on the ground looked up at Iris with trembling eyes.
Unlike them, not a strand of hair or a fold of clothing was out of place on her.
Iris looked down at them.
“The sparring hasn’t even begun.”
At those words, the knights swallowed hard.
‘Who says this woman isn’t a Valentine?’
Unlike the prodigies in her family, Iris had always carried the label of “incompetent” since childhood.
She couldn’t even wield sword qi—the very symbol of skill.
So no one had ever considered her a threat.
But it wasn’t that her talent was nonexistent; it was just overshadowed by others.
The knights didn’t know how to define the overwhelming gap in strength.
Calling it talent was inaccurate—she was not a genius. Everyone said so.
Yet none of them could defeat her.
In the end, the knights bowed their heads in resignation to the inexplicable reality.
The defeated knights accepted the outcome.
“We apologize, miss.”
“We deeply regret underestimating your swordsmanship and insulting you.”
Iris glanced at them indifferently, then slowly turned away.
“There’s no need for that.”
From behind, her elder brother approached slowly.
“Iris.”
With a reproachful glare, he fixed her with his eyes.
“Why is the woman I am to marry tomorrow making a scene at the training grounds?”
“Brother, they insulted me first.”
“That’s why you’re the problem.”
He sighed disdainfully and helped the other kneeling knights to their feet.
“My sister caused a disturbance. My apologies.”
“No, it’s not like that!”
“Take today as a lesson and show me more progress.”
Orchid’s gaze hardened sharply.
“Iris, as a Valentine, you must maintain composure and not be shaken by mere words.”
Iris bit her lip.
“Picking up the sword just because of such trivial words—that’s why your skill is still at that level. Don’t you get it yet?”
Orchid continued without letting up.
“If you want to show off such mediocre skill, try raising your sword in front of me. I’d like to watch.”
He drew his longsword and aimed it at Iris.
Though her emotions had long since dried up, her fingertips trembled from old wounds.
‘I know this already.’
Iris wasn’t a match for Orchid. More precisely, she wasn’t yet capable of fighting a senior knight.
‘Because I can’t wield sword qi.’
Senior knights are those who have mastered sword qi.
The higher the cultivation realm, the more important sword qi becomes over mere sword technique.
Sword qi transcends and dramatically enhances a knight’s physical abilities.
No matter how much she trained, a knight unable to wield sword qi was only half a warrior.
Losing didn’t scare her.
‘Because I’m used to it.’
Chapter 2
Translator's Note:
🎧 Check out the audio versions on my YouTube channel:
https://youtube.com/@novel-tube-w2f?si=UqMphhId_8DH80Ns