Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Demon Sword Speaks
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5
Someone called out to me.
Reflexively, I twisted around to look, but no one had approached me.
A few students wearing the same black uniform-style school clothes accented with red and gold were simply heading toward the academic building for first period.
“……?”
No one showed any sign of having called me.
Thinking I might have misheard, I started to hurry along again when...
-Where are you looking? Here, right here. At your waist, you fool.
The clear voice made me look down.
No person was hanging from my waist.
Instead, there was a pitch-black sword sheathed there.
...No way the sword was the one talking, right?
-What do you mean, no way? It was me, obviously.
“What the...”
A sword that talks?
Listening closely... no, calling it “listening” felt off.
It wasn’t sound entering my ears; it was a strange sensation of words seeping directly into my mind.
But more importantly, what was that just now?
Mind reading?
-We’re conversing through thoughts. I’m speaking directly into your head, and we’re exchanging words via your thoughts.
...Thoughts, conversation. It finally clicked.
That brief description on the DLC store page.
The new playable character, Theo Agrit, was a demon sword user who could communicate with his demon sword.
Who would’ve thought it worked like this?
Up until now, no weapons in the game had ever spoken, so this felt pretty fresh.
A talking sword in this world? Utterly irrational... but in a fantasy setting like Broken World, where magic is cast and dragons soar, clinging to common sense gets you nowhere.
Of course a sword might talk.
Especially since this wasn’t just any sword—it was a demon sword.
Still, it was a new type I’d never seen before, so it was intriguing.
-I had my suspicions, but sure enough, you’re not Theo Agrit, are you?
Sharp as a sword should be.
Or rather, wasn’t that fitting for a demon sword?
-Don’t even try to hide it. Piercing through lies is child’s play for me!
It really could read my thoughts.
More precisely, we were exchanging thoughts.
I hadn’t wanted to reveal it if possible.
But hiding it mentally was pointless against this demon sword.
Better to come clean.
I wasn’t Theo Agrit, but right now, I was Theo Agrit.
-Playing word games, eh?
What could it do about it?
I didn’t choose to end up like this.
“More importantly, how did you know?”
Conversing through thoughts was harder than expected.
Unthinkingly, I spoke aloud and reached for my waist.
I gripped the hilt and drew the sword.
It was a sleek black blade from pommel to tip, quite stylish... but it felt a bit plain for a demon sword.
-Insolent fool! To not recognize the great Deathwise...! Seeing through your true nature is as easy as eating cold porridge...!
Deathwise’s voice roared like wildfire in my mind, making me grimace.
It was telepathy—even covering my ears wouldn’t stop my skull from ringing.
Anyway, impressive.
It could read thoughts and instantly tell I wasn’t the original Theo Agrit.
No wonder it was called a demon sword.
-You see through me, do you? Hah, you’ve got a sharper eye than I thought.
Pleased by the praise, Deathwise seemed in a better mood.
“I figured you’d say something about me not being the true master.”
Demon sword user.
In Broken World, to be called a “user” in certain categories, you had to be directly chosen by a special being.
Typically, that meant demon swords like Deathwise at my waist, holy swords, holy spears, high-ranking spirits, or dragon contractors.
Those personally granted power by such entities were dubbed users.
Since Theo Agrit was known as a demon sword user, I’d assumed Deathwise wouldn’t accept me once it realized I wasn’t the original Theo.
-Well, it doesn’t matter. As long as you can wield me properly. From that perspective, Theo was a failure anyway.
Correction: Theo Agrit hadn’t even been a proper demon sword user to begin with.
-So tonight, I’ll test if you can wield me properly.
“That’s awfully sudden.”
-Hurry to class already. Skipping lectures and getting disciplined out of training is something I won’t tolerate anymore.
Had Theo habitually skipped classes on his own?
Failing grades were the last thing I wanted too.
Esterro Academy expelled you after two fails.
It was strict, and Theo Agrit had already gloriously failed the midterm.
One more fail, and it was goodbye Esterro Academy.
That wouldn’t do.
I calmed my excited mind.
No way back, no reason to go back.
To keep living in this world, graduating Esterro Academy was essential.
I could get expelled like in the main story and return to the Agrit Count Family... but even setting aside the dangers, getting dishonorably kicked out of an elite school his family struggled to get him into? The treatment would be obvious. No thanks.
Still, it wasn’t bad.
A demon sword meant I could live comfortably even in this balance-broken world.
After all, items dubbed “legendary weapons”—demon swords, holy swords, and the like—were the main culprits behind the broken balance.
Deathwise, being a newly added demon sword, had unknown exact abilities... but anything in the demon sword category was guaranteed to be overpowered.
First period was basic swordsmanship—perfect timing.
Time to escape failing student status.
As I steeled my resolve...
Deathwise chimed in slyly.
-I’ll let you know since you seem clueless, but I’ve only recently awakened... so keep in mind I can only use my powers at night. I’ll sleep now—see you at night...
The voice that had buzzed noisily in my head faded away.
Hey, wait—you’re just going to sleep?
...Is this for real?
6
“The most important thing in swordsmanship isn’t theory—it’s experience.”
In the center of the auditorium.
A man in light leather gear leaned on his sword and spoke.
His solidly defined muscles visible through his clothes showed the intensity of his daily training.
“So today, we’ll do one-on-one spars. Understood?”
His tone was as rigid as his build, but his voice was hearty.
With short-cropped brown sporty hair, rugged features, and a broad, cheerful grin, Ken Shwelts, the swordsmanship professor, was unmistakably a boisterous sports type.
He reminded me of a high school gym teacher.
Except he taught swordsmanship, not PE.
Looking around, every student in the auditorium held a sword.
They’d shed their suit-style uniforms and robes for comfortable gym clothes and swords.
An odd combo, but it looked natural on them.
I was the only unnatural one.
I’d never actually swung a sword before... and I’d been counting on Deathwise.
But powers only at night? Ridiculous.
No response to my calls, no special power from the sword.
Right now, it was just a black sword—nothing more, nothing less.
It was barely 9 a.m., so no Deathwise powers meant pure physical sparring.
Ah, I’m screwed.
“Pair up freely in twos.”
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Ken Shwelts spoke, and students gathered in groups of twos and threes.
Theo Agrit had already failed once, and first semester was more than halfway done—post-midterms.
Groups had formed among students.
They were pairing based on midterm scores, compatibility, and such.
Surprisingly, not a single one approached me.
Yeah, no one wants to pair with me, obviously.
Sparring a failing student gains you nothing.
Sure, easy win, but who’d respect a victory over a failure?
Unless they just wanted to kill time... but these elite-course kids were all fired up, eyes blazing with passion.
This must be the plight of a failing student.
Technically, I wasn’t the one who failed...
“No partner?”
Was there salvation even in hell?
I turned toward the casual voice that approached first.
“Leon Hilfenberg.”
His name slipped out unbidden.
Called by name, Leon nodded readily.
Leon Hilfenberg.
Endless epithets described him.
A sword forged from unyielding conviction.
A hero pursuing ideals beyond hardship and adversity.
Sum it up in one word: this world’s protagonist.
That was the man before me—Leon Hilfenberg.
“If it’s okay, pair with me.”
He’d soloed a rampaging Camelaron at dawn and acted like it was nothing.
I’d been too caught up in the morning chaos to notice, but up close... he was handsome.
His vividly colored hair gleamed softly, richer than in the game.
His striking red eyes held a mysterious sheen, like garnets.
Heavy, intense hues sharpened his already stoic aura, making it icy.
Proof that Broken World went all-out on graphics—his presence was overwhelming in person.
A subtle stillness, cold yet radiant, like a halo behind him.
I’d glimpsed him at the dorms by chance... but never dreamed we’d face off like this.
I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter.
Who’d imagine the protagonist approaching me first?
Maybe that’s why I just stared silently.
Leon stared back, urging a reply.
“Fine by me.”
Leon Hilfenberg... simply put, was a good guy.
Strong against the strong, weak against the weak, intolerant of injustice, endlessly chasing his ideals and justice.
His approach stemmed from that personality.
Once he sparred and saw my weakness, he’d surely go easy.
“Once paired, spar in your assigned areas.”
Following Ken Shwelts’ instruction, we moved to the farthest corner.
A failing student like me sparring center-stage wouldn’t earn good looks, so Leon was being considerate.
Always overflowing with care.
No wonder he worried about others before himself.
“Please, go easy.”
“You too.”
We faced each other and drew our swords.
Mine was the sleeping Deathwise; Leon’s was a standard training sword.
At this point, he hadn’t gotten his signature blade yet—makes sense.
We pointed our swords.
Protective magic covered the auditorium, so unless we channeled mana into sword auras, real blades wouldn’t cut.
Knowing that didn’t stop my limbs from stiffening at the naked steel.
How often in life does someone point a real sword at you?
I swallowed dryly as Leon slowly advanced.
Sword reach apart.
Swing, and it hits.
At that distance, Leon raised his sword high.
A basic overhead strike.
Simple form that best revealed skill gaps.
Styles varied slightly by school.
Leon’s step forward, smoothly shifting weight... that was the Hilfenberg style he’d inherited.
The follow-up was burned into my mind, even without seeing.
I’d watched that sword thousands of hours.
I could predict Leon’s moves from the slightest motion.
Perhaps that’s why.
My stiff limbs loosened a bit.
Instinct sent my feet sliding across the floor.
A slight weight shift, and Leon’s blade grazed my skin.
Paper-thin evasion.
Not intentional—pure fear.
One millimeter off, 0.1 seconds late, and it would’ve sliced my arm.
Chilling thoughts raised goosebumps down my spine, but my limbs stayed loose.
Fresh from a brush with death, maybe.
To escape failing status, I needed to fix my behavior.
From Deathwise’s words, original Theo wasn’t exactly upstanding.
Even acing finals now would scream cheating.
So, at minimum, show diligence.
Plus, inexperienced me couldn’t suddenly ace tests—every experience mattered.
All for my peaceful life.
I suppressed surging emotions with reason.
This body was top-tier.
It executed mental images flawlessly, no margin for error.
So smooth it felt uncanny, but no time to admire.
Leon’s eyes widened after his swing.
Didn’t expect a failing student to dodge by a hair.
He didn’t stop, chaining strikes.
Downward blade swings up.
Diagonal slash, horizontal rush parallel to ground, clean thrust.
Dodged once, doable twice.
My body moved on its own.
Every strike evaded by a hair.
But precarious dodges didn’t last.
Swoosh!
Feint high, slash mid horizontal.
This instant strike was unavoidable.
Reflexively, I raised Deathwise from my waist to block.
Thud—dull impact traveled the blade through my body.
My barely maintained balance crumbled.
Even if the body obeyed perfectly, I lacked experience and skill—no helping it.
My current limit.
Accepting that, the transmitted shock didn’t weaken—it intensified.
Before I could think “huh,” my feet left the ground.
Gravity ignored lightly, action-reaction law flashing in mind.
I flew, slamming into the wall.
“...You okay?”
Even he seemed surprised by his swing, rushing over.
His red eyes trembled wide—quite shocked.
Thanks to protective magic, the impact wasn’t bad; I waved it off.
...But entering Broken World had me too excited.
I’d forgotten this monster protagonist was holding back.
That swing was just academy average.
For a peaceful academy life, gaining experience mattered...
But hurry and master Deathwise.
Leaning against the wall, sliding down slowly, I sincerely vowed that.