Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Grimungandr
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Opinions were divided among the Sigmund family members waiting for Carlyle.
“Sister, do you think Carlyle will be able to come out with a Succession Sword…?”
“The chances are slim, you know that.”
“Ah.”
Frey lowered his head at Selena’s reply.
Selena wasn’t wrong.
To be chosen by none of the Succession Swords.
And thus, to emerge empty-handed.
That was the general consensus.
As weapons imbued with the souls of their ancestors, the Succession Swords thoroughly rejected anyone unworthy of being a member of the Sigmund family.
Historically, there had been those chosen by no Succession Sword, and without exception, they were never acknowledged as members of the family.
“Still, you never know.”
Selena was pinning her hopes on the fact that Carlyle had recently stopped indulging in pleasure and causing trouble.
Of course, he was still acting like a scoundrel, having recently beaten a knight and broken his ribs, and smashing things…
“I wish Carlyle would go back to how he used to be.”
Frey said, his tone full of regret.
“It’s best not to get your hopes up.”
Selena shook her head firmly.
“The Carlyle we knew as children is gone. He’s already changed.”
“But…”
“He might get a little better, but he’ll never be the same as before.”
“…”
“We can only hope that he’ll come to his senses, even if it’s late, and stop being a burden to the family.”
Even as she said it, Selena’s expression was just as regretful.
Meanwhile, Grand Duke Guntram, seated on the throne, stared silently at the portal without so much as a twitch.
“Your Grace, there is no need to be anxious.”
Grand Duke Guntram frowned as if to say the notion was absurd when Maranello spoke with a face full of amusement.
“Anxious? What are you talking about, Sir Maranello? I am not anxious at all.”
“Heh heh.”
Maranello laughed.
“Are you truly not anxious?”
“That is correct.”
“Then why are you tapping your fingers on the armrest?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t you have a habit of tapping the armrest whenever you’re troubled, Your Grace?”
“I… do I?”
“You weren’t aware?”
Maranello smiled faintly.
“I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. This old man guarantees it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Your son has changed a great deal. Though he still has many shortcomings, this old man is certain that the souls of your ancestors will not turn their backs on him.”
“Since that is the opinion of the one who has watched him most closely, I will take it to heart.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Maranello bowed his head to Grand Duke Guntram.
*Your Grace. Your second son is far more remarkable than you think. He is merely acting the part of a scoundrel due to unavoidable circumstances.*
It wasn’t easy for Maranello to keep from spilling the beans.
From what Maranello had observed over the past few weeks, Carlyle was a genius.
Whenever Carlyle trained, he displayed fearsome concentration, pushing his efficiency to the absolute limit, and his skills were improving just as quickly.
Moreover, as if by some magic, his physical strength and stamina had also grown immensely in a short period.
Just imagining what kind of monster he would become if he continued to grow at this rate made his heart pound.
*One day, Your Grace will also come to know. The Young Master Carlyle’s true worth.*
Meanwhile, the majority of the Sigmund family were convinced of Carlyle's failure.
“He won’t be chosen by any of them. What a waste of time…”
“Wasn’t the last person to come out empty-handed a hundred years ago?”
“Our ancestors must be weeping. Haha.”
Considering Carlyle’s past behavior, it was a perfectly natural reaction.
“There’s no way that brat Carlyle will be chosen by our ancestors.”
Carlyle’s aunt, Medeia, also had no doubt he would fail.
“Isn’t that right, dear?”
“Of course.”
Carlyle’s uncle, Revesque, fully agreed with his wife, Medeia.
“This will solidify it.”
“What will?”
“That he’s the defective product of our family.”
Medeia’s eyes crinkled into a smile as she looked at the portal leading to the Cradle of Swords.
“Even those who held a sliver of hope will turn their backs on him after today. A Sigmund not chosen by a Succession Sword is considered a disgrace to the family.”
“That is true, but…”
“Then it will only be a matter of time before he’s kicked out of the family. Before that…”
Medeia wore a scornful expression.
“He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t die on the battlefield.”
***
Meanwhile, Carlyle faced the jet-black sword that had approached him after fending off hundreds of other blades.
*What in the world are you?*
Carlyle was intensely curious about the identity of the jet-black sword.
The Succession Swords kept here in this graveyard of swords were all, without exception, worthy of being called masterworks.
For it to have overpowered such a stellar collection of famed swords was proof of just how powerful the jet-black sword was.
*T-ring!*
[Notification: has chosen you.]
*Grimungandr, if it's Grimungandr… Ah!*
Carlyle realized which sword had chosen him.
Grimungandr.
The most mysterious, powerful, and unpredictable sword among the Succession Swords owned by the Sigmund family, regarded as an entity of monstrous and supernatural power.
Fundamentally a demonic sword imbued with the dark attribute, Grimungandr was a Succession Sword said to have been forged by the third family head, [Cain, the Chaos King], known as the most powerful Sigmund in history.
*Can I even take this?*
Carlyle couldn’t bring himself to rashly reach for Grimungandr’s hilt.
Cain, the Chaos King, was the most famous traitor in the history of the Nürburg Kingdom, having once led a rebellion against the royal family.
Although he had sworn fealty to the throne after the rebellion failed…
*It’s like a poisoned chalice.*
There was no doubt that Grimungandr was a peerless sword.
But the moment he became Grimungandr’s master, he would draw the attention of the royal family, which could endanger the Sigmund family.
No matter how much of a scarecrow the royal family had become after losing their precognitive abilities, their vast intelligence network and the military power they had built over hundreds of years were not to be taken lightly.
It was too early to get on the royal family’s bad side.
Thus, for Carlyle, becoming Grimungandr’s master was bound to be a burden.
“I don’t think you’re the one for…”
Just then.
*Shhhh…*
Grimungandr transformed from a demonic sword with a jet-black blade into the shape of a rusty, old sword with nicks all over it.
Although the blade’s color was a bit dark, it looked like a piece of junk that no swordsman would glance at twice.
“What the.”
Carlyle let out a small laugh.
It was because he felt as if Grimungandr had read his mind and acted accordingly.
“Are you saying it’s okay for me to choose you?”
Naturally, the sword did not reply.
It merely thrust its hilt toward Carlyle, as if urging him to hurry up and choose it.
*The sword of Cain, the Chaos King…*
On the condition that it wasn’t discovered, Grimungandr was the best choice.
Now that it was disguised as a rusty iron sword, it wouldn’t attract the attention of the royal family, so Carlyle had no reason to refuse.
Moreover, it wouldn’t draw the notice of the Sigmunds either, killing two birds with one stone.
If he walked out with a well-known sword, he would attract his family’s attention, becoming the target of unnecessary curiosity and expectations, which would lead to all sorts of troublesome matters.
It would clearly be much more convenient in many ways to take Grimungandr, disguised as a piece of scrap metal.
“Well, I suppose there’s no reason to refuse.”
The moment Carlyle’s hand touched Grimungandr’s hilt.
“…!”
The scenery before his eyes changed.
***
He was one who resisted fate, one who sought to break the wheel of destiny.
“Decaron will no longer be a puppet in the hands of the royal family.”
He was one who forged his own destiny, and he possessed the power to do so.
Therefore, he raised an army and rebelled against the crown.
He had pointed his sword at a royal family that wielded truly omnipotent authority, manipulating reality based on their powerful precognition.
However, the power of the royal family was a wall too high to overcome even with his martial might.
In the end, the rebellion failed, and the Sigmund family surrendered to the crown.
On the day he knelt before the king and pledged his loyalty.
The Sigmund family became completely subservient to the dynasty, and in return, they were burdened with the duty of eternally fending off the invasions of the savage tribes as long as the dynasty lasted.
*A history of shame.*
Carlyle knew what consequences this event had brought about.
Now, roughly 300 years after Cain’s rebellion.
The amount of blood the Sigmund family had shed in that time was beyond imagination.
Hundreds of Sigmunds had died in the wars against the savages, and the family’s power was always stuck in a state of stagnation.
Just when their strength was about to grow, they had to pour all their energy into repelling the savages’ invasions. It was no exaggeration to say that the history of the Sigmund family was a constant struggle for survival.
Was it because he knew this?
*To think he imbued this sword with his unfinished legacy and his atonement to his descendants…*
On his deathbed, Cain had forged the Succession Sword, Grimungandr, pouring his entire will into it.
Hoping that one day, a descendant who inherited Grimungandr would break free from their history of subjugation in his stead…
And with that, Cain’s memories ended.
[Notification: You have acquired !]
[Notification: The authority of dwelling within <the jet-black="" sword,="" grimungandr=""> has been inherited!]
Carlyle looked down at the rusty longsword in his hand—at Grimungandr.
“He didn’t need to make this. Is this the limit of one who cannot see the future?”
Carlyle muttered this to himself because it was only a matter of time before the Sigmund family broke away from the royal family.
The royal family had already lost their precognitive abilities, and the kingdom’s fragmentation was already a foregone conclusion.
What the Sigmund family needed to think about now was not independence from the crown, but survival in the coming era where it would be every man for himself.
*Cain, the Chaos King… your wish has already come true, more or less. So, since it’s come to this, I’ll make good use of the sword.*
Carlyle started walking.
And so, Grimungandr, the sword of Cain, the Chaos King—the strongest swordsman in the history of the Sigmund family and the man called the King of the North—became Carlyle’s.
***
Immediately after leaving the Cradle of Swords.
“Hm?”
“He’s carrying something?”
“Does that mean he was chosen?”
The members of the Sigmund family were shocked to see Carlyle holding something in his hand.
It was no wonder they were surprised, as everyone’s predictions—save for Maranello’s—had been splendidly proven wrong.
Amidst the surprise, the first person to identify the sword Carlyle carried was not a Sigmund.
“Carlyle van Sigmund.”
A man wearing clothes emblazoned with a crest shaped like an eye on his chest approached.
He was one of the Watchers.
An individual ‘officially’ dispatched by the royal family to monitor the Sigmunds.