Journey to Planar World

”I ran into Ais at the Guild, and we went for a walk together. That’s all.”

Technically, Charlie wasn’t lying, just omitting the full details. This way, he wouldn’t be seen as deceiving anyone, especially not Loki, who stood before him.

”Who do you think you’re fooling?! I saw you holding hands with my Ais-tan! Aaaahhh… I’m so jealous! No, I want to do it too!”

Frustrated by the romantic scene she’d just witnessed, Loki turned, intending to hug Ais to soothe her wounded feelings and perhaps gain some attention.

*WHOOSH!*

Unfortunately, as if used to this behavior, Ais swiftly dodged to the side. As a result, Loki lost her balance and crashed to the ground for the second time.

”So cruel, Ais-tan…” Loki whined, her face now even dirtier.

”I’m tired, Loki.”

Ignoring Loki’s antics, Ais gave Charlie a brief nod before walking past the Twilight Manor gate, her figure calmly disappearing into the grand building.

”Just you wait, brat! We’re not done yet!”

Leaving behind cliché villain-like words for Charlie, Loki hurriedly got up and chased after Ais, still muttering incoherently.

(Luckily, things didn’t escalate because of this. Though I’m not afraid to face Loki Familia, it would definitely leave a bad taste in Ais’s heart to see conflict between the two sides.)

Charlie sighed in relief inwardly, watching Loki’s retreating figure.

Knowing how irrational Loki could be when it came to the beautiful women in her Familia, Charlie had been worried that a conflict between Hera Familia and Loki Familia might flare up once Loki learned of his romantic relationship with Ais.

After all, the history between the two Familias wasn’t exactly friendly. On the contrary, after the downfall of Hera Familia and Zeus Familia’s core members, Loki Familia and Freya Familia had collaborated to oust the two most powerful Familias, who had dominated Orario for nearly a millennium, and took their place as the city’s rulers.

”Maybe I’m overthinking it?” Charlie shook his head slightly. ”After all, the gods’ main goal is to have fun.”

Dismissing the issue, Charlie turned and headed back toward Empyrean Citadel.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

The next day.

Dawn broke over Empyrean Citadel, the sky painted with shades of pink and orange. In the grassy courtyard, Charlie stood tall, holding a wooden sword.

The cool, fresh morning air brushed against his skin, carrying the scent of dew and flowers from the surrounding garden. The chirping of waking birds added a peaceful melody to the slowly bustling atmosphere.

Closing his eyes briefly, Charlie took a deep breath, letting his body relax completely. Then, with eyes open, he began swinging his sword.

*SWOOSH!*

*SWOOSH!*

*SWOOSH!*

His swings started slowly, a warm-up, but each stroke cut through the air with perfect precision.

*SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!*

His movements flowed—from powerful vertical slashes, sweeping horizontal cuts, to swift, accurate thrusts.

No motion was wasted; every muscle worked in harmony, exuding controlled strength and brutal elegance.

Charlie practiced various stances and techniques, from basic to complex, as if dancing a tango with his sword.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead, trickling down his temples, but his focus remained unshaken. He visualized imaginary enemies, weaving through rapid counterattacks, precise parries, and deadly strikes.

*SWISH!* *SWISH!* *SWISH!*

The sound of the wooden sword slicing through the air was like a soft hiss, occasionally followed by a sharp whistle during faster movements.

His upright posture, firmly grounded feet, and sharp gaze showed complete dedication to each swing.

”Huuu…” Charlie let out a long breath, faint vapor visible in the cool morning air.

He paused his training, the wooden sword now planted in the ground. Sweat soaked his body, but his mind was clear.

”As expected, I haven’t fully tapped into the potential of my Prodigy Swordsman skill. Compared to flashy techniques like Sky Clear, Balmung, and I Am Atomic, I want something simpler yet deadly. After all, every time I use large-scale attacks, they not only cause environmental damage but also risk involving allies.”

Charlie began evaluating himself, reviewing each swing and technique he’d just practiced.

His Prodigy Swordsman skill granted him 100% mastery of swordsmanship. This wasn’t mere talent but a gift beyond ordinary human limits. With it, Charlie instantly understood every aspect of swordsmanship: the anatomy of the sword, the physics behind each swing, and the psychology of combat.

He could see and sense an opponent’s weaknesses before they realized it, predict their movements with astonishing accuracy, and find the smallest gaps in even the strongest defenses.

With Prodigy Swordsman, Charlie wasn’t just a swordmaster; he was the embodiment of the sword itself, capable of reaching the pinnacle of swordsmanship unattainable by ordinary mortals.

Yet, amidst this greatness, Charlie felt something was missing. He sought the essence of perfection, not reliant on explosive power but on absolute finesse and effectiveness.

A technique that could end a fight with a single, imperceptible move, without unnecessary collateral damage.

”Now that I’m Level 5, a First-Class Adventurer.” Charlie muttered, his voice soft but brimming with confidence. ”There are fewer than forty First-Class Adventurers, Level 5 and above, in all of Orario. It can be said I’m among the top-tier combat forces in this world.”

A simple acknowledgment, yet it carried immense weight considering how little time it took him to reach this point.

He no longer felt the urge to blindly chase levels as he had before. A clearer thought began forming in his mind.

”So, instead of recklessly boosting my raw power, I should refine and polish my techniques to the point where even my basic attacks are as potent as ultimate techniques.”

Charlie no longer pursued explosive, flashy power. He sought absolute efficiency, lethal precision.

A basic attack that could fell an opponent as powerfully as the strongest technique. A simple parry that could deflect the mightiest strike.

He envisioned himself moving like a breeze, invisible yet deadly, ending fights before opponents realized what hit them.

With his plan decided, Charlie took a deep breath.

His focus now wasn’t on accumulation but refinement. He resumed training, this time with a different intensity, far more focused and introspective than before.

*SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!* *SWOOSH!*

Each swing, step, and sword movement was now an effort to strip away the unnecessary, seeking the essence of strength, fully integrating himself with the sword and its motions, achieving mastery that transcended limits and merged with nature itself.

◆━⊰✧⊱━◆

Not far from where Charlie trained, on the expansive terrace of Empyrean Citadel, three breathtakingly beautiful women watched him.

They sat leisurely at a stone table and chairs, enjoying tea and pastries, as if watching a captivating private performance.

These three were not human; they were two humanoid spirits and a goddess.

There was the Goddess of Justice, Astraea, graceful in her simplicity, holding a porcelain teacup.

Beside her sat the Holy Sword Spirit Severian, Terminus Est, or Est as they called her, with her characteristic blank expression, though her clear eyes never left Charlie.

Then there was the High-Rank Spirit, Aishia, occasionally sipping her tea while staring intently at Charlie, her gaze full of attention.

The three watched Charlie train as if it were the most fascinating spectacle in Orario.

Sweat soaked Charlie’s body, his white hair clinging to his forehead, and each swing of his sword radiated a serious, focused aura that was mesmerizing.

In particular, Astraea, who rarely interacted closely with men, felt something strange. Seeing Charlie sweating, serious, and so immersed in his training, a faint blush colored her pristine cheeks.

Her heart beat softly, an unfamiliar yet not unpleasant sensation.

(This is Demeter’s fault for saying things like that.)

Astraea blamed Demeter. Their conversation at the Divine Bathhouse some time ago resurfaced in her mind.

It was as if Demeter had planted a seed of thought that was now beginning to sprout, influencing how Astraea viewed Charlie.