Xander was hailed as The Swordmaster on earth. When it came to blades, he held no equal. It didn't mater what category or how experienced his opponent was. He was just better, and none could deny it.

Yet all it took was a bullet to end his life.

All that hard work, all that talent. All of it gone because of an idiot with a gun.

So Xander was naturally indignant against the reality of it. What was the point, then? What was the purpose of achieving such mastery if his life could be snuffed out so easily? His final thoughts were filled with resentment and regret.

And so he closed his eyes.

Only to reopen them again. But not in a hospital. But in an entirely new world, filled with magic and mages. Xander thought that in a place like this, his dream of making swordplay relevant would be possible. But he was dismayed to learn that not only had the body he transmigrated to been incredibly weak and untalented, but the act of swordfighting was heavily looked down upon. Made obsolete by mages who chanted powerful spells and unleashed them from a distance

Yet on the verge of losing hope, he discovered something. This world, it's understanding of swordfighting wasn't just rudimentary. It was PATHETIC!

Elite knights only knew how to swing harder and faster! There was no technique! No order!

Offended, Xander made to use a blade. Even if the path was dead, he would not allow something so sacred to him be insulted so thoroughly.

However, in the throes of his swordplay, he made a discovery, one that would shake the very foundations of the world as everyone knew it.

Swordfighting wasn't obsolete. No, it was simply unexplored! 

And Xander, with his adequate knowledge on how to wield a blade realized...

"The usage of swords with proper technique, is a form of magic in itself."

And so begins the story of a man who decided to turn the entire world of magic on its head, with a Blade.

Shortly after, Xander and co, the Lunatics, the Captain, and the higher-ups, all sat inside a meeting room in Landor's main base, and the mood was... dreary, to say the least.


No one said anything for a while, and the only sound came from Aubrey arranging maps, no doubt still working.


"The casualty report came in. Thankfully, only a few dozen died. It seems like the manufactured plague was developed swiftly and made to be more of a disorganizing tactic rather than something aimed for sheer lethality. The bad news is that most of the soldiers who'd been on the frontline are now out of commission. Meaning there technically a frontline at the moment." The mood became even more dreary.


'... 'Thankfully', 'only', and  'a few dozen died' in the same sentence is shitty.' Curtis's lips curled.


Chapter 78 - Brainstorming