Sword Pilgrim

Cough, cough!

"Why…”

“Why are you killing me? Kahaha! You’re right to wonder. Indeed, indeed. I suppose I should tell you. This is the right time to talk about it! So why not? Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

Even a passing glance was enough to tell that this bastard wasn’t normal.

No, Count Valentine had known he wasn't normal from the very beginning. Still, he’d had no idea that his madness would be to this extent.

‘I didn’t pay enough attention.'

He’d never thought Gid was this crazy.

He’d thought the blacksmith would at least have a line he wouldn’t dare cross.

His body was immobile, paralyzed, just like the lunatic had said.

Thanks to that, the pain was a little less, but red lifeblood continued to pour out of his wound.

Meanwhile, the madman's monologue caressed the count's ears.

“I’ve been thinking about it for quite a while. What separates the various ranks of the sword? How high-ranked is the soul and the body of the source. Then what is the exact principle that drives this? Why would one sword spew fire, and another cut shadows?”

After pondering over and over again, he’d came to a conclusion.

“I concluded that the strong desire of one’s lifetime determines it.”

Desire.

Earnest, heartfelt and sincere yearning.

And the mental state just before death has a great influence on determining the ability of the sword.

That was Gid's conclusion.

“Among the five Masters of the kingdom, the sword that burns with fire is the most famous vision sword. Do you know how it was born?”

“… Yes."

It was a pretty famous story.

The sword of Karina, the Witch of Flames.

The story of the birth of the Burning Sword – Calla was passed on like a fairy tale.

“They say the younger sister of the Witch of Flames fought for half a day to save her sister, her body afire all the while. Isn't that a great story for a sword’s birth?!"

So, Gid imitated it many times.

However, those whom he subdued and then forced to fight while burning aflame, were beings of very poor quality.

In short, they were too weak.

“So, I decided to make you the last sacrifice. Can you guess why?”

Count Valentine was now retired, but he’d been quite a strong knight in his youth.

Gid thought that his body might have become weak, but his soul was still strong.

"What… do you… mean?”

“Tala.”

“!!”

“He’s a pretty smart kid. I only taught him a little bit of my art, but he’s quick to grasp the essence of things. If he grows up like this, he’ll become a great nurturer one day.”

However, the great nurturer of the future was the child of the count lying at his feet.

“He is your very precious son, isn’t he, Count?”

Burning wasn’t, strictly speaking, necessary.

It was better to nurture the sword in his own way, Gid thought.

“What are you going to do to my son?! If you touch even the tip of his hair, I will tear out your limbs and chew them up!!”

How could a gentleman like the count get so excited when his son was brought up?

A parent's love for a child debased them, blurring the lines between human and animal, and Gid loved it.

“Kahahaha!! Why’re you so excited? Calm down and listen.”

“…”

“I have decided to season the offering with the wish of the last sacrifice. Since it’s time to finish boiling the stew, shouldn't there be seasoning to sharpen the flavour? How else could it taste delicious?"

“Crazy… You crazy…!"

Seasoning! Delicious!

He was talking about human corpses!

“Ahaha!! To know your own father’s corpse was turned into a carcass – something so appalling… it won’t be strange if he went crazy.”

Gid grinned, as if explaining something he was proud of.

“Or maybe there’s another way. To die for another’s sake is the noblest act. A father dies in his son’s place… how does that sound, Count? Is it not tragic? Is it not beautiful?”

“You bastard…!”

“Your lifespan is bound to run out one day. Wouldn’t it be better to use up something so precious instead of wasting it? If I mix the seasoning of your sacrifice into my pot, a wonderful sword might come out! Aren't you curious?"

In the end, this crazy bastard wanted to kill both himself and his son. Count Valentine bit his lip so tightly that blood came out.

“… I won’t let you have your way.”

"I just want to see… what kind of power would such a sword be born with? Are you really not curious, Count?"

The count said, looking into Gid's eyes that were full of laughter.

“… Many nobles and knights are now stationed here in the county.”

"Hmm?"

“Not only the Golden Lion Knights of the South and their captain, there’s also Callius the Judge. Even if you kill me, there’s nothing other than death waiting for you.”

The count and the count's son disappearing at the same time. In such a situation, would the kingdom stand still?

"Sword? Even if you can make a sword, you’ll soon be hunted down and executed. Even if you make a sword, it won’t be great enough to save you."

“…”

As soon as he mentioned the sword, Gid's expression began to stiffen.

“A spirit sword is your limit in this life. Holy sword? Hahaha! Ridiculous!”

“Even though you’re paralyzed, you’re doing a good job of running your mouth.”

Why was the mouth fine?

Was the count such a political creature that his mouth was simply stronger than the rest of his body? Gid shook his head.

“It’s still not too late. Release me. I won’t kill you, despite your transgressions.”

“If I’d cared about my life, I wouldn’t have gotten kicked out of the Church.”

“You fucking bastard. Did your mother teach you to be like this? Or your father? Oh, probably neither. You were an orphan, right? Should I say, as expected of a guttersnipe piece of trash?”

Gid's complexion darkened at the sudden cursing.

“I changed my mind. Although I sometimes said otherwise… but in the end, the cold really isn’t worse than the heat. There are quite a few burning ghosts here in the pot to keep you company. Please hold on to that rage until you die, Count. Then I will give you a name and cherish you for the rest of my life.”

“I’m not going to beg for my life. Kill me whichever way you want, but it’s not like what I said about your parents were a lie. You shitling son of a bitch. Let’s hope the parents who abandoned you will love you when you meet them in the afterlife, huh? You motherfucker.”

A bizarre smile rose from Gid's coldly distorted expression.

Bump!

“Ugh…!”

Gid smiled as he lifted the count, whose body was becoming colder by the second.

“Please don’t lose that passion.”

Blub, blub.

Above the simmering furnace.

Gid held the count by the neck.

Slowly.

Very, very slowly, he began to lower the count's body into that mass of molten iron.

– Found it.

It took longer than expected.

The door had been so well hidden that it was already dawn.

“Where is it?”

– At the prayer room.

The prayer room.

Did they have the guts to make a heretic sword like that in the basement of the prayer room?

It was a place where dozens of people came in and went out every day, and yet that was the location they chose?

Anyway, now that the place had been found, all that was left was to go in and catch them.

But…

“Why are you here?”

“It sounds like you’re trying to do something quite interesting. I just wanted to take part.”

The Golden Lion was at the forge of Tala. All of a sudden, he’d come in and asked me if he could join.

“It’s not very fun.”

“It’ll be fun if I join!”

How nosy.

But it didn't really matter.

I didn't know if there’d be any roadblocks in killing the count, but it was Gid, not him, that mattered right now.

That was the clear priority.

The Golden Lion coming to assist could only help.

‘If possible, it’s better to catch him before he manages to finish the sword.'

I didn't know what kind of a sword he’d make, but something made from a hundred knights wouldn't be ordinary.

“But really, can a great sword be made just by sacrificing a hundred knights?”

Had he heard it all from outside?

The Golden Lion's face looked quite stern.

He’d asked if he could join in a lively tone, but he seemed to be quite upset inside.

I calmly assuaged his curiosity.

“There’s a saying that’s been passed down from the ancient times – an abundance may be worse than a lack. It might exert great power, but it won’t be easy to use.”

“What do you mean?”

A cup that overflows can never be perfect.

“… It might bestow something like the prince’s madness.”

"I see…”

The Golden Lion's complexion also hardened a little at the mention of the prince.

Carpe's Shining Dragon Sword.

He couldn't be unaware that the prince who had taken it up, had turned into a beast.

“Whether it makes you crazy or possesses you, it doesn’t sound like the user’s going to keep his consciousness. Let’s hurry up before a rampage starts.”

“Tala.”

"Yes!"

“Guide me to the prayer room.”

"All right."

Me and the Golden Lion followed Tala to the prayer room.

He instructed the soldiers he encountered on the way to firmly guard the surroundings.

I had Orcal wait outside in case of any unforeseen circumstances.

It’d just be annoying if another intruder showed up.

“I think… this is the place.”

When the carpet was rolled up on one side, some seams became visible.

When Tala muttered and touched it, tuk! Something like a handle popped out.

He turned it and –

Creeeeak.

The trapdoor was about to open.

“Ugh, help me!”

The trapdoor looked fairly thick and heavy.

While I looked at the red-faced Tala and clicked my tongue, the Golden Lion went to help.

Creeeeeeeeeeeaaaaakkkkk!

"Ugh! Oh! I never thought it’d be this heavy.”

“You lack discipline. Can you really become a sword nurturer like this?”

“It, it’s because I didn’t get enough sleep recently!”

The moment I was about to retort that it was a really poor excuse, a very hot wind blew through the open crack.

The air was quite chilly because it was early in the morning, but as soon as that wind blew in, the entire prayer room became hot.

It looked like they’d put in a lot of effort into making a forge in the basement.

There was no trace of heat until we opened the door, but as soon as there was an opening, a wind this hot came out.

“Tala, I want you to stay outside.”

"But…”

“Me and the Golden Lion are enough for this.”

Tala nodded his head without saying anything else, as if he understood what I meant.

I beckoned the Golden Lion and went down first.

The more I went deeper into the basement, the more I could smell the filthy stench stinging my nostrils, and the bizarre sound of whistling in my ears.

It was like the sound of the wind, and yet it rang like the sound of swords clashing.

But only after realizing that it was the sound of hammering, I slowly grabbed my sword.

The sound of hammering got stronger.

It swelled violently like a raging wave crashing against a steep cliff.

In tandem, our steps also accelerated.

Our footsteps, which had been carefully descending, now began to run and then sprint, as if we were trying to catch up with something.

And when we arrived –

"Aaah…”

An old man's sigh flowed out.

A dazzling light of divine power was spreading from the centre of the vast forge.

“You’re one step late.”

The sword was finished.

“Ahhhh…”

A deep sigh.

Or perhaps a hum of exaltation.

The white-haired old man's mouth broke into a jagged grin as if he was satisfied.

A gloomy fire fluttered in his eyes.

“Kuh.”

The Golden Lion tugged at his ear.

I didn't even have to ask why.

The cacophonic dissonance emanating from the sword made my ears hurt, too.

A sound of something ripping, and a scream of agonized pain, pounded all over my body.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at the quest window in front of me.

「The Sword of Sorrow」

A sword made by sacrificing a hundred knights.

A flock of screaming souls, unable to blend together.

Execute the lunatic, Gid, by the spirits' demand.

<Reward>: [ Rare constitution drawing.]

As soon as I accepted the quest –

The old man's neck twisted at a bizarre angle.

He pointed his sword at us both.

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaackkkkkkkkkkkle!!

A pure white energy exploded from the blade in all directions.

“Ugh!”

Chill enough to freeze even the bones.

In an instant, not only the enormous forge, but even the Golden Lion and I, were left frozen.

Even the boiling furnace flash froze into a mass of cold metal.

Nothing could block that frigid breath.

Editor's Notes:

None for this chapter.

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