Chapter 82

It’s time for the darkness to lift, yet the outside remained pitch black and gloomy.

Is it about to pour rain?

Nope. It’s dawn, so it’s still unclear.

-You’re becoming more human now.

“…….”

That thing which had long shown disinterest in worldly affairs.

This Golden Girl, this Demon King—only now does she seem to glimmer with a hint of interest in her eyes.

What could be making her so pleased?

-Aren’t you sensing it too?

“…….”

I could’ve slept a bit longer, but there was no avoiding waking up.

Nightmares and convulsions hit me all at once.

But this time was different from before.

The malevolent thoughts that used to curse me while I pleaded for salvation…

…were now urging me to prepare myself.

It’s completely different from before.

The splitting headache and body pain that usually followed have vanished without a trace, but…

A sense of foreboding pounds my heart unlike ever before.

It’s a chilling sensation.

Like something might leap out of the shadows at any moment and rip my neck apart.

I steady my breathing.

This fear and anxiety stem from me.

Therefore, this too is the fear and anxiety I’ve created and harbored within myself.

My instincts are shouting.

Careful isn’t enough.

I need to run right now.

I gotta bolt.

…Or else I really will—

Die.

There’ll be no going back.

I’ll shatter.

I’ll break apart.

I won’t be able to do anything.

It’s warning me.

It’s sentencing me.

That is to say, this emotion of fear has taken on a vivid form.

Even as I try to suppress my racing heart through deep breaths…

…I fully accept it.

I can’t let emotions control me.

It’s not about overcoming them either.

Nor enduring them.

…I can’t go against the flow.

Even if I struggle against it,

it’s ultimately futile.

-Still, didn’t you sleep well last night? Maybe take some comfort in that?

“…….”

Surprisingly, what he says isn’t wrong.

It’s kind of funny, though.

====

Even though it’s dawn, the smithy already has a faint glow emanating from within.

Passing through the mist-covered village, the atmosphere feels changed somehow, and I arrive there.

“You came?”

“…Yes.”

He points with his gaze toward a sword lying in the corner.

A sword still sheathed.

First, I inspect its appearance.

There’s no major difference.

An expected conclusion, perhaps.

Gripping the slightly elongated hilt with one hand,

I attempt to draw it.

It doesn’t budge an inch due to how tightly it’s locked into the scabbard.

It’s perfectly snug.

Eventually, after gently loosening the grip and pulling steadily, it slides out smoothly.

“….”

The finish is impeccable, the oiling perfect. The tip, edge, and blade surface are as smooth as new.

Even in the dim light of the dark smithy, reflecting faint embers, it gleams clearly to the eye.

I examine it again.

The fuller (blood groove) in the center of both sides is neither exaggerated nor distorted, maintaining its original form perfectly.

“….”

The overall balance is good too.

It’s not just a piece forged longer for show; the weight when gripped confirms that much.

…Of course, until I actually use it, I can’t be sure about the weight being ideal, but at least in terms of appearance and feel when gripping it, it’s no different from the one I wielded before.

“How’s it look?”

“It’s sufficient.”

“It’ll be cumbersome to carry on your waist, so better to wear it on your back. My son made a shoulder harness out of boredom, so just take it.”

“….”

Unlike Ellie’s sword, this one would definitely stand out if carried on the waist.

Though not entirely impossible.

Still, wearing it on the back would require it to hang outside the robe, which felt a bit off.

…But rejecting such a gesture outright felt wrong, so I took it in hand and expressed my gratitude.

“Was that unnecessary advice?”

“…No, it wasn’t.”

Having something is better than nothing.

Even though I already have one I use regularly… there’s never harm in having another.

If I can’t carry a sword, carrying something else works just fine.

“I have one question, though.”

“…Go ahead.”

Just as he was about to leave the forge, Karriel spoke to his back.

“Why haven’t you gotten rid of that sooner?”

“…This one?”

Holding up the sword, Karriel paused for a moment.

Reason? Nothing special.

It really wasn’t anything significant.

“Maybe because it was the first real sword I owned.”

“Is it precious to you?”

“No, not at all.”

Simply put,

“…It was something my father gave, and a close older sister insisted I take over forcefully.”

It was utterly useless.

But still… when I ran away, I didn’t have to separately acquire a sword, which, in hindsight, was fortunate.

Had it not been for this, I’d have been helplessly dragged away by Ellie without resistance.

Not that I owe any gratitude to a sword.

“…Perhaps the only reason I felt a little attachment was because this was the only thing I could say was a comrade at the time. Or maybe not.”

“You talk too much. Either way, it’s irrelevant. Why are you offering excuses to me?”

“…You’re right. My apologies.”

Even though the blunt words might sound extremely rude, Karriel didn’t feel particularly offended or irritated.

The only emotion rising within him was self-loathing.

It’s laughable.

What was I so dissatisfied with?

I wasn’t being cold enough.

I wasn’t treating tools like tools.

By attaching meaningless significance and sentimentality to them, what did I hope to achieve?

“Be careful.”

“Yes. I understand.”

As I stepped out of the forge, signs of movement appeared around the entrance and the open space.

“You…”

I didn’t stop walking.

“Hey, wait a sec?”

Thanks to the small yard not being very wide, it took less than five steps before I entered their line of sight and range.

Regardless.

Did they perceive it as a threat?

They reflexively swung their swords at me, but I deflected it easily, kicked their ankles, and promptly wrested the weapon from them.

“Wha—?!”

The man who stumbled didn’t stay confused for long.

Realizing his empty hands, he stared fearfully at the sword now clutched in mine.

“Follow me, and I’ll return it.”

“What the—?”

There’s no need.

No point in deliberately paying attention to whether they follow.

I climbed the stairs and quickly reached the fourth tier.

Essentially, the topmost part of the village.

The area where that damn sword is embedded.

And at this pre-dawn hour, the place here resembles a vast square, opening up with a wide expanse.

Only then did I toss the sword.

The metallic clang as it hit the ground echoed faintly, causing those who had been following to move awkwardly, shrugging their shoulders and shifting their feet.

It was utter chaos.

…Though not everyone acted that way.

“I’ll speak to that thing and then leave this village.”

This is a warning.

If your intention is to drive me out, don’t attack.

If you have other intentions, prepare yourself.

“To talk to a sword?”

“Are you crazy?”

Some mocked me as if I were delusional while keeping their guard up.

“To converse with a sword? Does that even make sense?”

“Well, if there’s a spirit or soul residing in the sword, it’s not entirely impossible, right?”

“Is that even possible?”

Reactions varied between skepticism and uncertainty.

“Say that again. What exactly did you mean?”

Amidst all this,

a familiar yet unfamiliar voice reached my ears.

If words could cut, this tone would surely do it.

“For years, I swung that thing around, and it didn’t utter a single word to me. So what? Did it spread its legs like a harlot and flirt with you or something?”

“….”

It wasn’t intentional.

Still, I had a small expectation that I might encounter this guy at this point.

…Is it even correct to call this an expectation?

“V-Venus?”

“Huh?!”

Everyone gasped and backed away.

As if they’d encountered a bear or some ferocious daemon while wandering in the forest.

“So, you gonna pull it out now?”

“If you can’t pull it out, weren’t you planning to kill or incapacitate whoever does and steal it?”

“Damn lunatic! Where’d you hear that?!”

“Does it matter?”

Me too.

I’m not exactly the nicest person.

Above all else,

the way he started trouble and then retreated without resolution regardless of victory or defeat…

…If you thought I’d let that slide, you’ve got another thing coming.

“Didn’t you say earlier that it’s different from Grandeous’ sword?”

Of course it is.

It has to be.

I drew the newly acquired longsword from its scabbard.

“Isn’t it obvious that tools have different uses?”

Forcing a one-handed sword into two-handed use and swinging it like a greatsword?

Sure, you can do that.

But is there any real need to?

“Since you left disappointed last time, maybe you’ll find this enlightening now.”

With the scabbard still dangling from my waist, I adjusted my stance.

Right.

The initial posture, the parade stance.

Para.

This stance somewhat resembles a cross.

Holding the sword straight up, gripping it firmly with both hands.

Thus.

From the opposite side or adjacent angles, it appears as if I’m making a vow or showing respect to someone.

“….”

Even without looking, I know clearly.

That guy must be seething right now.

But it’s still okay.

Up to this point, anyway.

After all, knights often perform such gestures of respect.

But then.

When the right foot shifts backward, and the hands holding the sword also move to the waist on the right side, solidifying the stance—

He must’ve realized instantly.

He must’ve been certain.

This.

…is his sword style.

And it’s also something they chased after tirelessly but never truly grasped—the origin itself.

“Why do you… why do you happen to know this stance?”

“You’re catching on.”

Why aren’t you screaming that it’s fake or imitation?

Instead, I find it oddly amusing how clearly shocked you are.

Even though all I’ve shown so far is the initial stance.

Initially.

Unless I start spouting nonsense about learning from the Demon King,

you guys will never figure out the truth, even if you die trying.

Framing lies would probably be more comforting, wouldn’t it?

But do I have any reason to do that?

I never swung a sword to explain myself to anyone.

“Last time, you said it was boring, right? This time, it’ll be the exact opposite. I guarantee it.”

And.

“The principle of fairness demands reciprocity. I hope you gain deeper insight, or even greater teachings than me. Consider it my humble repayment, and accept it gladly.”

“This bastard? Your personality is off the charts, huh? Planning to feast on daemon corpses somewhere?”

“Never tried it?”

“What?”

“There were times when I had nothing to eat but corpses and fragments. Unlike you, I guess you grew up comfortably, huh?”

A story from dreams, but gnawing on bodies and fragments wasn’t uncommon.

It’s not a lie.

Was I hungry?

No.

I chewed to kill.

Exhausted from fighting, starving, thirsty—I chewed and swallowed bodies, drank blood and bodily fluids.

I chewed and swallowed countless times.

“Huh? Alright! Alright! I like it! Let’s do it! Let’s die together today!”

Before I was born,

he walked beside Grandeous.

The difference in experience is undeniable.

But at first glance, he looks like some teenager.

So what?

Is that a reason not to aim my sword at him?

Senior? Respect?

Do you think I came here to play childish games?

Our hair color might be similar, and in this dim environment, it’s hard to distinguish between us.

Our attire shares a similar palette, so at a glance, we might appear to belong to the same group or organization.

Yet, despite appearances, he and I are polar opposites.

Chasing after Grandeous with admiration and hatred, he pursued his path.

Following some unknown guidance or arrangement…

Seeking power as a means.

Crawling forward on that path with great effort, that’s me.

Even though it may seem like we stand on the same path and head in the same direction,

we are fundamentally on entirely different roads.

“Still mouthing off?”

“Hahaha―!”

The moment that guy draws his sword,

the madness he’s been suppressing explodes all at once.

His two eyes.

Sharp, split-apart eyes glowing amber.

Yet, darker than burning flames, sinking into a heavy depression.

They blaze fiercely, ready to unleash fire and lightning at any second.

And I, silently facing him,

see my reflection in his pupils and irises.

Endlessly dark and calm.

Like the frozen surface of a winter lake,

revealing nothing beyond.

That’s why, maybe,

I don’t know who I am.

Still.

---