Chapter 176
Chapter 176
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 176
Chapter Title: Festival of Swords (19)
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A garden of steel stretched out before them. Weapons sprouting from the ground emitted a chilling light. Irregularly spaced, they filled the entire crater—easily tens of thousands in number.
Just as Naviroje had said. The inexperienced participants couldn't hide their bewilderment and began murmuring among themselves.
"Wh-what the hell is all this? We have to find the holy sword here?"
"Magic...?"
"Feels like we've been possessed by ghosts. By the way, don't these weapons look a bit off to you?"
Ronan was just as flustered. In two lifetimes, he'd never seen a sight like this. After looking around for a while, he asked Alogin.
"What kind of sorcery is this?"
"Hmm... just a moment. No matter how many years we do this, it never gets any easier."
Fatigue was plain on Alogin's face. The other elders and Zaifa were in the same state. They all looked like they'd been hung upside down and deprived of sleep for three days—hardly in good shape. After catching his breath, Alogin spoke.
"...Sorry about that. Summoning all the sword spirits isn't a simple task. That's why seven elders like us have to stay holed up in the sanctuary, barely eating."
"Sword spirits?"
Ronan tilted his head. It was a term he'd never heard before. But from the sound of it, it seemed related to those haunted weapons rumored to exist—ones that flew up on their own to slit an enemy's throat without anyone touching them. Alogin answered.
"Yes. Simply put, sword spirits are the souls dwelling within weapons."
"I've... heard of weapons that move or talk on their own. Is it related to that?"
"Ah, you're talking about ego weapons. Indeed. When a sword spirit grows extremely powerful, it gives birth to such artifacts. What you're seeing now is the materialized spirits of weapons offered to Parjan. Even after losing their metal bodies, they couldn't leave this world and continue dreaming, like ghosts."
Ronan grimaced at the word "ghosts." Alogin explained that all the blades rising before them were intangible. No wonder it felt so eerie—the wind seemed even colder now.
"...What's the principle behind it? Honestly, it creeps me out."
"It's not fully understood. But we elders theorize it's a phenomenon born from the owner's attachment and bond. Rather than explaining, it's faster to experience it yourself. Want to give one a try?"
Alogin pointed to a longsword rising in front of Ronan. With a dubious expression, Ronan gripped the hilt.
"...!"
In that instant, a static shock jolted through his mind, and scenes flashed before his eyes. A man charging across a battlefield, a sword piercing enemy armor, screams echoing amid clashing metal. It was like a montage of someone's life laid out before him.
"Damn it, what the hell?"
Startled, Ronan flung the sword away. As the visions cut off, his sight returned to normal.
It had only lasted a few seconds in reality, but it felt like an eternity had passed. Similar to the life-flashing-before-your-eyes sensation from his previous life. With a precarious waver... the sword toppled, dissolving into mist and vanishing. Alogin stroked his beard and chuckled.
"That's the sword spirit—the dream the weapons are having. They're reminiscing about the days they drank blood alongside their masters. Well then, it's about time to begin."
"Wait. So this ritual is..."
"Just as you suspect."
Ronan was about to say something when Alogin and the elders simultaneously lowered their weapons. Alogin turned to the participants and announced.
"You all must wander this sanctuary and draw any weapon you suspect might be the holy sword. If it's not, it will turn to mist and vanish right away, so there's no need to worry about mix-ups. Feel free to try as many as your abilities allow, but each time you touch one, its memories will flood in—so choose with utmost care."
Alogin explained that the ritual would continue until the sun fully set. Judging by the sky, about two or three hours remained. He emphasized again to be cautious when selecting weapons. One participant raised a hand and asked.
"What does the memory flood have to do with the number of attempts?"
"You'll understand after one try. Bearing the weight of a single history brings surprising fatigue. There have been participants who overdid it and shattered their sense of self—so please, be prudent."
Sure enough, Ronan felt a light exhaustion, as if he'd run a lap around the grounds. Good thing he'd let go quickly; holding on until it came free might have been a needless ordeal.
Alogin added that one among them was definitely the holy sword, so not to worry. Only then did Ronan understand why they'd been so selective with the participants.
This ritual was a form of spirit possession. Unless one's body and mind were extraordinarily tempered, it could drive you mad or turn you into a vegetable in an instant. The faces of the participants—who'd been relaxed after passing the final exam—stiffened.
"Then, let us begin. May one of you awaken the slumbering holy sword."
Alogin said. The participants, steeling their resolve, scattered. With the elders and Sword Saint joining in, twenty-eight people now roamed the sanctuary. Soon, astonished exclamations echoed from various spots.
"...Damn it! I can't take any more."
A man in armor spat curses as he flopped down. He couldn't pull the spear planted before him. The heaviness in his body was secondary; the weapon's memories churning his mind made even attempting it unthinkable. Each illusion blurred his sense of self.
"You're the vice-captain of the Holy Lance Knights, right...? How many did you draw?"
Another participant staggered over and plopped down beside him. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he was in the same boat.
"Seven. That's my limit."
"Impressive... I only managed five."
"Damn it, I wonder if there's really a holy sword here. This some rigged scam?"
"I thought that for a moment too. But... those guys are working way too hard for it to be."
The dark-eyed participant pointed somewhere. The reclining man lifted only his head to look. The robed elders darted busily between the weapons.
They were drawing one out of every three. Like farmers harvesting fruits. The dissolving forms turned to mist, blending with the wind and fading. The man lay back down and let out a defeated chuckle.
"...Monsters."
"That's why they're elders, isn't it? Besides them, some others are pulling exceptionally well. Looks like we're just lacking in training. Even the Empire's Rising Star and the Lord of All Things have already hit double digits."
"Ha, well said... Speaking of, what about that young man?"
The man asked while lying down. He hadn't been seen since the ritual started.
"Who do you mean?"
"You know, the guy who blocked the Torrent Sword technique. We even drank together... Haven't seen him all day."
"...Come to think of it, yeah."
The two shrugged. He was undoubtedly one of the top contenders, yet no matter where they looked, he was nowhere to be found.
But that was only natural. Just thirty minutes after the ritual began, Ronan had given up searching for the holy sword and was lounging with his legs stretched out on the western outskirts of the crater. The reddening sunlight bathed his face. Gazing at the view below the sanctuary, he muttered casually.
"Killing it."
The western continent lay spread out below. Jagged horizons enclosed everything. With no higher peaks in sight, it felt like sitting on the world's rooftop. Far off, he could see the Romaire Mountains crossing his hometown Nimbuton and the capital.
Thanks to luckily finding an ascending slope, he'd made it up. Unsure if this spot counted as part of the sanctuary, he'd planted Ramancha to his right as an excuse.
In case an elder griped about what he was doing there. Stretching languidly, he smirked and murmured.
"Holy sword, my ass."
"What are you doing here?"
"Gah...!"
A familiar voice came from behind. He hadn't sensed anyone approaching—truly startled. Clutching his chest, Ronan turned. Rin stood there, her abundant silver hair fluttering.
"Damn, you scared me."
"Aren't you looking for the holy sword?"
Rin tilted her head. Her usual blank expression and dry tone were subtly infuriating. Turning back to the view below, Ronan said.
"Mind your own business. If I were chosen, it'd have shown itself by now."
"Bad attitude. Won't hear you're a gentleman even after you make it big."
"Don't care to."
Ronan waved her off. He'd never been interested in finding the holy sword anyway—just killing time until it ended. Rin approached with short steps, watching his back. Then, quite naturally, she plopped onto his lap.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Ronan chuckled in disbelief. This was an unexpected turn. He glanced down at her casually leaning her head back against his chest.
"For a lady, you've got some seriously unladylike manners."
"The meaning of life is doing what you want."
"Fair enough. You're heavy—get off."
Rin didn't budge. Sighing as if he'd expected it, Ronan grabbed her by the scruff and set her down beside him. She wasn't heavy at all, but he minded his bloodstained pants. Pouting slightly, she stuck out her tongue.
"Cheater."
"Quiet. Go find your own holy sword. Why'd you come here?"
"My business."
Ronan laughed incredulously. Rin said she hadn't touched a single one, and Ronan replied he hadn't either. Side by side, they silently watched the sunset.
The day was ending. The setting sun contrasted with the pale full moon, creating a dreamlike scene. Clouds like scattered tufts of wool ripened like autumn leaves. Rin took a deep breath and spoke.
"You like sunsets, huh."
"Yeah... probably. Used to hate them, but now they're not bad."
Ronan nodded. To him, sunsets weren't just a natural phenomenon. It was the last sight before he ended his previous life. Rin asked.
"Why?"
"Just... someone I know gave me a fresh take on it once, and it stuck. Called it the dying sun's final struggle."
"Struggle? Interesting."
"Right? Said the red blaze is it thrashing to stay alive. Like firewood searching for more fuel so the fire won't die. No idea why, but it resonated."
It was the conversation with Adeshan on Sages' Hill. A late-summer youthful memory from his previous life. Hard to believe two years had passed. Ronan recounted it fondly. Noticing his subtly softened gaze, Rin snorted.
"Hmph. So that's the one Naviroje mentioned. Must be tough."
"What're you talking about?"
"Never mind. Better than some guy flirting with anyone. Anyway, I've got a question. A very, very important one."
Suddenly turning, she faced him. Her milky-white eyes—clear to the point of transparency—gazed at him. He'd always thought she had a mysterious aura. But 'very' twice? What could it be? Rin continued.
"The holy sword. Do you want it?"