Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Chosen by the Holy Sword (2)
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A holy sword about 1.6 meters long, with a gold line plated along the fuller at the center of the blade, bearing the symbol of the Radain Church.
Robertus ascended the stairs with a dignified stride and stood before the holy sword embedded in the rock.
The Pope watched solemnly as he knelt on one knee before it.
For some reason, as the ceremony drew to a close, Mercadie suddenly grew tense.
'Maybe this time... maybe Robertus really will be chosen by the holy sword...'
"Robertus Bilheim."
The archbishop's solemn voice echoed through the hall.
"Do you swear before this Holy Sword Aurelion, as Duke of the North, to gladly bear your duties?"
I stared blankly at the Holy Sword Aurelion stuck in the rock.
Right... I definitely remember hearing about the holy sword during lessons on the history of the northern territories from Henriotte...
-It was the weapon wielded by Walterhart Bilheim, the founder of the Bilheim Family and the first Duke of the North. This was back in ancient times when the demon race was still active. When Walterhart was fighting an undead dragon controlled by demons that had raided the northern territories and found himself on the brink of death, the Lord God bestowed a blessing upon his sword to aid him... With that sword's power, Walterhart defeated the undead dragon, and the blade came to be known as the Holy Sword Aurelion. Now, moving on to...
Okay. That's enough.
Thanks, Henri-Wiki.
Anyway, the Holy Sword Aurelion was a weapon infused with holy power that the first Duke of the North had wielded. Ever since, it had been passed down through the heads of the Bilheim Family as the symbol of the Duke of the North.
So why was this symbol of the Duke of the North—not with the previous head or me—stuck in that rock like this?
-Five generations before you, Robertus, during the lifetime of the Fifth Duke, a major incident occurred...
No. I didn't call you this time, Henri-Wiki?
It's not that complicated a story.
It happened during the reign of the Fifth Duke of the North.
The duke had been fighting monsters while wielding the holy sword when, in a final desperate act, one of the monsters cursed the blade.
The cursed holy sword began spreading malevolent mana around it, corrupting the land, and it rejected its owner, the Duke of the North.
The curse was so powerful that even the most potent holy cleric of the time couldn't lift it.
As a result, the Holy Sword Aurelion was sealed away in this specially crafted case.
However, because it was the sword of the founder and a sacred relic, they couldn't simply discard it.
Instead, it became a sort of symbol, used only occasionally—like now, as a ceremonial tool during succession rites.
"Ahem."
The archbishop's clearing of his throat snapped me back to reality.
Whoops. Got lost in thought and zoned out for a second.
"I, Robertus of the Bilheim Family, swear before the Holy Sword Aurelion, passed down from the great first duke, Walterhart Bilheim, through the generations."
I collected myself, bowed my head toward the holy sword, and recited the oath of the Duke of the North that I'd memorized in advance.
Almost there, anyway.
Once the oath was done, the archbishop would formally proclaim my ascension as Duke of the North, and the succession rite would end.
I'm sick of this. Hurry up and finish so I can get back to my room and crack open some whiskey.
"As the Tenth Duke of the North, I shall protect the northern territories and care for my subjects as if they were my own children..."
-Hmm... so this is this generation's Bilheim, huh?
"...?"
Who's that? Who the hell is chattering during the succession rite?
I halted the oath and scanned the surroundings to find the irreverent culprit.
But all I got back were puzzled looks, like What the hell is he doing all of a sudden?
...Was it my imagination?
I guess so. Haven't had a drink in days, so my ears are playing tricks on me.
"...And as head of the Bilheim Family, which has carried on for hundreds of years with its deep traditions."
-Eh, whatever... He's not qualified either. Guess I'll be sleeping for a few more decades...
"!"
I shot to my feet and whipped around, searching for the source of the voice.
Not my imagination.
Someone was definitely speaking.
Yet the attendees just murmured in confusion at my behavior.
Judging by their reactions...
'No way. Am I the only one hearing this voice right now?'
-Huh?
Just maybe. The odds are astronomically low, but.
I turned to gaze at the Holy Sword Aurelion.
-Whoa? ...No way. You can hear me?
That sealed it.
I was hearing the voice of the Holy Sword Aurelion.
-Whoa, seriously? This is insane.
It was an endlessly light, clear voice—like a cheeky little girl chattering away.
I just stared at the sword in stunned silence.
"Wh-what are you? How can a sword talk..."
Murmurs rippled through the attendees at this unexpected turn.
"Robertus? What's wrong?"
The archbishop approached to check on me.
But other people weren't the issue right now.
The sword was talking to me in my head, damn it?
The sword's voice rang nonstop in my mind.
"Robertus! Answer me. Why have you stopped the oath?"
Hummm—
At that moment, a faint light began to emanate from the holy sword before my eyes.
Fwaaah!
The light from the holy sword intensified, then swallowed me whole—
Only after the intense light faded could I finally open my eyes.
"Where..."
The grand cathedral's ornate hall, the archbishop, the Pope, and all the others watching the rite—they were gone.
A pure white void, utterly empty.
The bizarre sensation of standing on thin air left me too frozen to move; I just stood there, looking around.
"Over here!"
A voice called from behind me.
Turning, I saw a woman standing right there—where nothing had been moments before.
"You're... Aurelion?"
"That's me!"
The woman with long green hair and a pure white dress answered brightly.
She looked a bit older than her voice suggested—late teens, maybe.
She was beautiful. Unrealistically so.
And by unrealistic, I mean it in the literal dictionary sense, not hyperbole.
Large, sparkling eyes; a perfectly straight nose; glistening lips; a flawless curve from shoulders to legs.
Every feature perfectly embodied 'ideal beauty,' yet it all felt strangely off-putting at the same time.
"...W-wait a sec."
I clutched my forehead against the dizziness.
"I've never heard of the holy sword being an ego sword."
An ego sword.
A blade possessing a literal self, either because a mystical being like a spirit or fairy had inhabited it, or because a mage had artificially imprinted a personality onto it.
They typically boasted special abilities and tremendous power, and their self-awareness allowed them to fight autonomously for their wielder.
But that same self could make them tricky to handle—and sometimes dangerous, rejecting or even harming their owner.
"Huh? You seriously didn't hear about me from the previous head?"
"...The previous head died in an accident."
Even if he hadn't, that old man wouldn't have told me jack.
"Ohh~ So that's why you were so shocked. Got it. Fair enough."
She nodded as if convinced, then began circling me, inspecting me from every angle.
"Hmm... let's see. For a Bilheim, you're kinda on the small side? Your face is pretty refined compared to the previous ones... still got that scary scar, though."
"H-hey."
"Yeah?"
"Where are we?"
"My mental world. I just pulled your soul here temporarily. Don't worry! It won't affect your real body at all."
"...So what the hell are you, exactly?"
"Me? I told you—Aurelion?"
"That's not what I mean. From what I learned, the Holy Sword Aurelion was a sacred relic bestowed by the Lord God Juten on the first duke, then sealed away after the Fifth Duke got it cursed by a monster..."
"?"
She tilted her head repeatedly, as if she had no idea what I was talking about.
"Oh. Ohhh... Kyahahaha!!"
Then she burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"Ahh~ I see... So that's how they fabricated the story to explain why they couldn't use me."
"Fabricated...?"
"Yep."
She clasped her hands behind her back and strutted exaggeratedly around me.
"First part's right, at least. I'm a spirit of light crafted directly by Juten, dwelling in this sword to carry out his will as his divine messenger."
"Then the fabricated part is..."
"Me getting cursed by a monster and sealed?"
A savage sneer crossed her innocent face—one that didn't suit it at all.
"Ridiculous, really. They were the ones unqualified to wield me."
"Hold on, hold on."
I couldn't keep up.
"Unqualified? What do you...?"
"There are two conditions to draw out my power. One: inheriting the Bilheim bloodline. Two: possessing the qualifications to wield holy power."
"Qualifications to wield holy power?"
"Not like becoming a saint or anything. Basic morality, empathy, self-reflection—the virtues any human should have. It's a restriction Juten placed on me. To ensure no future Bilheim would misuse the holy sword."
"...No issue with the bloodline."
"Right. The problem was the qualifications. At some point, your Bilheim Family started losing their humanity bit by bit—and the more they did, the weaker their synchronization with me became, due to the constraints on me."
The part about losing humanity... I could relate all too well.
My father went without saying, and the history books weren't kind to my grandfather or great-grandfather either.
"Then, about five generations back from you? They couldn't even hear my voice anymore. Starting from the Fifth Duke up to the one right before you—they were all unqualified."
"...I can guess what happened next."
"Ooh, really? Tell me."
"The holy sword is the symbol of the Duke of the North. Being unable to wield it would've been a massive blemish on any duke."
"Mm-hmm."
"So after agonizing over it, the Fifth Duke made up an excuse for the people: the sword's cursed. That's why I can't use it."
"Ooh."
"Then he jammed you into a rock, shoved the whole thing in a box, called it 'sealed,' and claimed that was that. Later dukes kept the truth buried, so now only the fabricated story gets passed down."
"Wow! You're way smarter than most Bilheims!"
Aurelion beamed and clapped her hands.
But in an instant, the smile vanished from her face.
"...And that's how I ended up stuck in that rock, trapped in this box."
Instead, she wore an expression of utter loneliness.
"For a hundred and fifty years, sealed deep in some cave—except for the rare times they dragged me out for rites like this."
For some reason, I could feel her loneliness flowing into me.
"Every time, I screamed at full volume, hoping some Bilheim descendant would hear me. But no one did. Every few decades, I'd see the light for one day... then get locked away again. But you know."
She smiled gently and stepped right up to my face.
"-Finally, someone who can hear me has appeared. You, Robertus Bilheim."
Before I knew it, Aurelion had grabbed both my hands tight.
"The one I've been waiting for—the true Bilheim heir qualified to wield me, the Holy Sword Aurelion."
Her pale green eyes sparkled like stars with anticipation as she looked up at me.
"So... you'll pull me out, right?"