The World Is Mine For The Taking

I arrived at the venue. The place was absolutely packed with people, and it was hard to believe this was just a regular wedding. Then again, considering the bride and groom came from influential families, it wasn't all that surprising.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, and I noticed quite a few high-profile individuals in the crowd. It was honestly a bit overwhelming. Even Princess Myrcella was here.

"Well, I guess that makes sense—he's her knight, after all…"

Johanne was Princess Myrcella's knight, so her attendance was expected. What wasn't surprising was the security around her. Being a princess, she was always a high-value target, and the likelihood of an assassination attempt was never zero.

As I looked closer, I spotted someone near her who looked oddly familiar. It was Angelica. The very same Angelica who'd once been brainwashed by the cult, Eclipse—the one I'd crushed not too long ago. Seeing her here, working directly under Princess Myrcella, was the last thing I expected. I would've never guessed that Angelica would end up in her service.

Shaking off the surprise, I headed toward the entrance of the venue, only to be blocked by a guard.

"We don't allow civilians in here," he barked, his chest puffed up with misplaced pride. The way he stood there screamed self-importance, as though this job was the highlight of his life.

I pulled out the invitation Johanne and Tris had given me and held it up for him to see. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at it, widening slightly before suspicion crept back into his expression.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusatory.

"From the couple getting married, obviously," I replied dryly.

The guard's brows furrowed. He didn't seem convinced, and his irritation was palpable as he reached out, trying to snatch the letter from me.

I stepped back quickly, holding it out of his reach. "Whoa, easy there."

"Give me that," he snapped.

"What, so you can rip it apart? Not a chance," I shot back. "I need someone competent to verify this and let me in."

"You're suspicious," he growled, clearly offended. "I can't let you in."

"Even though I have an invitation?"

"It's possible you stole that or forged it. You could be trying to sneak in to pull something shady. With all the high-profile people here, we can't take chances. Look at you—you don't exactly scream 'VIP.'"

"Fair enough, I guess," I sighed, though his condescending tone was grating.

Reluctantly, I unfolded the letter and handed it to him. "Look at the damn thing. My name's Leon. It's written right there, clear as day."

The invitation had my name on it, signed by both the bride and groom. But instead of reading it properly, the guard barely glanced at it before balling it up in his hand.

"Suspicious," he repeated, tossing the crumpled letter to the ground and stomping on it.

I stared at him, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"I told you, you're not getting in," he said smugly, puffing his chest out like he'd just stopped a major crime. In reality, he was just proving how bad he was at his job.

The people around started to notice the commotion, whispering amongst themselves as their suspicious gazes landed on me. I guess the bastard had done a fine job of making me look like the villain here, huh?

I sighed again, fixing my gaze on the smirking guard. He clearly thought he had me beat, his arrogance practically oozing off him. The guy was bigger than me, after all. That alone seemed to inflate his ego.

"Well, I never thought the Sword Saint would hire someone as incompetent as you," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. Then, without waiting for a response, I turned to walk away.

"What'd you just say?" he growled, his voice taut with anger.

Looks like I hit a nerve. Good. He was pissing me off anyway. The way he carried himself—so confident, self-assured, and absolutely full of himself—he didn't even stop to consider the possibility that he might be wrong.

"You heard me," I said, waving a dismissive hand as I walked away. "You suck at your job, dude. I hope they fire your ass and hire someone better."

I raised my middle finger for good measure.

That was all it took to send him over the edge. "You...!"

With a loud snarl, he charged at me, sword in hand, aiming to skewer me right in the back. I felt the rush of air as the blade neared, but just before it could touch me, I leapt backward—so high that I cleared his full height with ease. In one smooth motion, I landed on my feet behind him, perfectly balanced.

The guard froze for a moment, looking utterly bewildered as he turned to face me. Meanwhile, I resumed walking toward the entrance, cool as ever. I had an invitation, after all. It was my right to be here, regardless of this idiot's tantrums. Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" the guard roared.

He lunged again, swinging his sword in another desperate attempt to stab me. This time, I turned, pushing the flat of his blade aside with a flick of my wrist. The momentum threw him off balance, and I took the opportunity to deliver a solid kick to his side, sending him sprawling to the ground.

I didn't feel the least bit bad for him. Now, everyone at the venue was staring at him, watching him flail around like the fool he was. The proud peacock from earlier now looked utterly pathetic, his humiliation on full display.

"Grr…"

His face twisted in fury, his teeth grinding audibly. Being seen like this by the very people he'd tried to impress must've been eating him alive. Meanwhile, I calmly adjusted the cuffs of my sleeve and turned back toward the entrance.

But, of course, he wasn't done. He scrambled to his feet, gripping his sword tightly, and raised it again, preparing to swing it down at me in one last desperate act.

"What's going on here?"

A deep, commanding voice cut through the tension like a blade. The murmuring crowd immediately fell silent, parting to make way for the speaker.

Through the sea of people, a man emerged. He looked to be in his late forties, his body muscular and well-built for his age. His eyes gleamed with a sharp, almost predatory glint, and his presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier.

The way he carried himself was remarkable—calm, controlled, and utterly assured. Even the way he handled the cane in his hand hinted at his power. The cane wasn't for support; there was nothing wrong with his legs. It was more like an extension of himself, a subtle testament to his mastery.

This man... he had to be the Sword Saint—the most powerful swordsman known to man, or at least within the entirety of the Milham Kingdom.

When the Sword Saint reached us, he didn't spare me a glance at first, focusing instead on the guard who had nearly cleaved me in two.

"Sir Sword Saint," the guard said, bowing deeply. Then he threw me a venomous glare. "This man attempted to bypass me using a forged letter of invitation to Lord Johanne's wedding. I tried to stop him, but he forced his way through with violence. I was just about to cut him down, my lord, but you arrived just in time. Should I finish the job now?"

Finally, the Sword Saint turned his gaze to me. His hawk-like eyes were piercing, brimming with the weight of countless battles. A man like this had seen everything and couldn't be fooled easily. Despite the intensity of his stare, I refused to look away.

"Cleave him? Right here?" the Sword Saint sighed, his tone heavy with exasperation. "You're fired."

"W-What…?" The guard's mouth flapped open like a fish gasping for air. "What do you mean, Sir Sword Saint?"

"You heard me," the Sword Saint said flatly. "You're fired."

"But why…?"

"This is a celebration, not a battlefield. Killing someone in the middle of such an event is not only prohibited—it's outright disgraceful. Anyone who thinks such an act is acceptable has no place in this role. Now, leave my sight."

"Sir Sword Saint, but…! That man is trying to—"

"This guy doesn't even do his job properly," I interjected, cutting the guard off as I addressed the Sword Saint. "It's wise that you're firing him."

The Sword Saint raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Hmmm. And why do you think that?"

I bent down and picked up the crumpled letter the guard had stomped on earlier. Straightening it out as best I could, I held it up for the Sword Saint to see.

"Your son invited me to his wedding, Sir," I said firmly. "This guy decided to play the hero, using me as a scapegoat to make himself look good in front of the crowd. He branded me a fraud because I wasn't dressed extravagantly enough for his taste. If that doesn't scream incompetence, I don't know what does. Firing him is the least of what he deserves, wouldn't you agree?"

The Sword Saint studied me, and I caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Then, he shifted his attention to the letter in my hand.

"This is, indeed, my son's handwriting and signature," he said after a moment. His tone turned sharp as he addressed the guard. "Not only are you incompetent, but you're also incapable of fulfilling even the simplest of your duties."

"S-Sir…!"

"Are you going to leave my sight willingly, or shall I take your fingers as payment for this disgrace?" the Sword Saint asked, his voice cold and cutting.

"G-Guh…!"

Faced with that threat, the guard finally caved. Tucking his metaphorical tail between his legs, he glared at me one last time before fleeing, his head hanging low in shame.

Serves him right.