In the Abyss, the Sword Wields the Man (3)
What? A novel?
The sentiment of Is this bastard out of his mind? came through loud and clear. Kriel flashed a wry smile. Of course, it wasn't some Tirnanog novel—it was a story he'd read back on Earth. A tale starring a Dark Knight just like himself alongside a proper paladin. Kriel remembered that the character who'd pulled off this technique always had a cleric at their side. It hurt way too damn much to tank without holy power patching you up.
"Hurts more than I thought."
No way, you read a book and that's supposed to work? Want me to recommend a few novels with badass finishing moves?
"My tastes in novels are kinda picky."
Kriel brushed off the nonsense with more nonsense and checked his body's condition. His blood qi was tapped out, and even pumping fighting spirit to rev up his body wasn't letting regeneration kick in properly. Maybe because it was a weapon forged directly by the Demon King—it seemed to come with a regeneration interference effect. Kriel vowed to shatter that goddamn sword to pieces. Not right now, though. Once Morgina showed up, with her holy power.
Footsteps echoed from afar. Using his horn dagger as a crutch—Ow ow, you're heavy!—Kriel hauled himself to his feet.
"Quiet means you already mopped everything up? Hurry and help out over... here...?"
"You're too late."
Morgina bolted over in shock at the sight of Kriel's state. The plate armor, painstakingly blessed with anti-abyss enchantments by the cathedral priests, was a mangled wreck. His left chest cavity bore a massive gash so deep you could see the organs underneath. A wound that wouldn't heal. That was the element throwing Morgina even more off-balance.
"Another lunatic knight! You don't even take holy power well!"
Morgina wrapped her hands in holy light and latched onto Kriel. A miracle of healing from a saintess-level cleric should have regrown flesh instantly wherever the light touched, sealing scars without a trace. But holy power and the abyss were polar opposites. Common knowledge held that dumping holy power on abyss spawn didn't heal—it hurt them. That's why clerics led the charge on the front lines against the abyss.
Kriel, a Dark Knight who'd half-deviated from the abyss, didn't take damage from holy power like regular abyss minions. But at his core—at the core of every Dark Knight—the class was deeply tied to the abyss. He didn't get burned by holy power, but the healing effect was pathetically weak. That was why Morgina opted for indirect buffs on him, like boosting his armor's durability instead of raw body enhancement.
Blessings on objects worked fine for Kriel—like a sword enchanted with increased sharpness or armor with anti-abyss wards. But effects that extended to the wearer, like boosted strength for the user, were mostly useless on him.
She squeezed out her holy power and poured it into him. It brought the same subtle pressure as when he'd worn the champion's insignia. Like being wrapped head to toe in compression bandages. Kriel forced his mouth open.
"There's something more urgent than healing."
"What could be more urgent than fixing your guts-hanging-out ass?!"
"The sword itself has a curse blocking healing. My body already sucks at taking holy power, and now with the curse on top—trying to heal me is a real waste."
Kriel raised his right hand, pointing at the sword on the ground. The blade, stripped of its swirling blue glow, now looked like nothing more than dull ash-gray.
"That's the seed's main body. The demonkin using it was too dumb, got puppeted by the sword and died. Figure out how to seal it properly with holy power."
"What?"
"Don't waste holy power on me—seal the sword."
"You fucking wall-hanger," Morgina spat once before approaching the ash-gray blade. Records of demonic weapons flashed through her mind. They were old accounts, and this one had been modified into a 'seed,' so details like ornamentation differed, but matching the key features to a weapon was easy enough.
"Corpse-Eating Sword..."
Knew it was one of the Seven Great Demonic Weapons! Orishin made a fuss. The rumors about the Seven Great Demonic Weapons that Kriel had dug up were just popular folklore, not detailed tomes from the Holy Kingdom's grand library, so the name Morgina dropped was new to him.
"Corpse-Eating? Sounds like it chows down on anything tasty."
Dude, you sound just like me.
Morgina inwardly agreed with Orishin. She shot the wall-hanger a glare and spoke up.
"Not 'test-eating'—it eats corpses. Corpse-Eating Sword Gratuon. The Battlefield's Unwelcome Guest."
"Unwelcome Guest?"
A nickname that felt oddly plebeian for a famed demonic sword. Just the base name, Corpse-Eating Sword, implied something way more brutal, didn't it?
Ah, I can explain that one. No winners or losers left on battlefields that sword passes through.
Like the demonkin puppet just moments ago, any warrior who gripped Gratuon inevitably fell under the demonic sword's dominion. They'd swing it until every scrap of life was drained by the blade, then collapse in a heap.
But that sword basically seduces people, right? Whoever picks it up off the ground, or snatches it from the last guy—boom, new slave.
A temptation so strong that even if one army was wiped out, the victors would slaughter their own allies just to claim Gratuon. Once every soldier on the battlefield withered away, offering their life force, Gratuon would animate the last fresh corpse and wander off in search of its next meal.
That's why it's the Unwelcome Guest. Eats 'em all solo and ghosts.
"What was the Holy Kingdom doing, not sealing that thing?"
"They did. Barely sealed it and were transporting it to Temris when some demonkin ambushed on purpose."
Morgina made a face like she didn't want to touch it and unleashed her holy power. The red light solidified into chains, binding the ash-gray sword.
"Let's get outta here first. With the abyss core sealed, the entrance we came in should be back to normal by now."
But we...
"Spit it out."
Orishin, who'd been buzzing around Morgina's head like a maniac at her words, shut up quick when she shook her fist threateningly.
Kriel basically brute-forced a weak spot in the floor to cheat his way into the deep layers. How do we even get back to the entrance? Wouldn't it be smarter to wait?
"Just tell Kriel to do it."
Kriel let out a hollow chuckle at Morgina's retort. Fair point. No matter how labyrinthine the abyss's structure, it was fundamentally a place built for abyss forces. A Dark Knight was originally a commander in the abyss legions. Just as he'd sensed the weak point in the upper layer, he could roughly grasp the layout here too.
"Yeah. No point sticking around in a shithole like this. Let's bail."
The saints waited leisurely. But that leisure didn't mean they'd fallen into vices like complacency or sloth. Their calm stemmed entirely from—or thanks to—Morgina.
Her official title as Eve Kaha's saintess took a backseat to grim monikers like "Skull Harvester" or "Harbinger of Doom." If you ranked clerics by raw anti-abyss combat prowess, she'd be top five among the martial faithful. When she and her champion demanded thirty minutes inside the monastery, the saints took it as:
Ah, she'll smash everything in thirty and come back—so just keep watch so nothing escapes!
If she didn't emerge in time, it meant real trouble, and they'd all storm in to beat the abyss black and blue.
Ten minutes into silently surveilling the monastery, someone finally spoke up.
"Anyone know who that thug's champion is?"
No one answered. After a beat, the martial monk elder scratched his goatee.
"Heard Morgina synced up with a knight during her stint as military chaplain in the west... But no word of that knight joining Eve Kaha."
"What? So she just handed the champion gig to some outsider? Classic her, though."
"Can't write him off as a total outsider."
"What're you on about, old timer?"
"Come on, it happens. Champion spots without formal initiation usually go to devotees or family..."
The saints' expressions twisted subtly. The monk was among the most seasoned in the current Holy Kingdom, but this felt like a swing and a miss.
"Morgina was raised by the Eve Kaha order. No secular family. So a new 'family tie' would mean marriage... with that personality?"
The saints nodded in unison, no need for words. Her temperament was beyond "lone wolf"—hands flew before mouths after her military chaplain days came out, with no protest letters from the order. A miracle from Eve Kaha herself.
The monk nodded awkwardly, his face saying let's leave it at that.
"Oh, they're out!"
Morgina and Eve Kaha's champion emerged through the same door. But they didn't look the same as when they'd entered. For some reason, the champion sported a deep chest wound, and Morgina was propping him up like she had to force it.
"Don't just stand there gawking—get over here!"
Morgina bellowed, but her unsteady voice betrayed raw worry for her champion. The saints' eyes turned to the monk. He shrugged.
"I've officiated for a few couples already."
But the old man kept one thought to himself:
Though the champion doesn't seem too smitten yet...
The signs of a playboy who left a trail of hearts in his wake.