Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 225
Chapter Title: 65. The Deep Darkness is but the Herald of the Dawn to Come (5)
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It was simply an act of healing.
The king's newly acquired vast mana and his body, reborn through the elixir of transcendence, were mere side benefits. The true essence of what I had done was to heal the king's wounds.
I had simply wished for the king to live. That was all.
I had never sought any reward, nor desired anything more.
Yet, for this selfless act, an unexpected reward had come.
The Dragon Slayer—my true self.
The sword that had remained utterly silent, as if sealed away, finally reacted.
Though the reaction was nothing like what I had anticipated.
Whoosh!
After finishing the king's treatment and returning to my chambers, the sword suddenly began emitting beams of light.
At the same time, an overwhelming chill poured forth from it.
In an instant, my fingertips froze over. The bone-chilling cold crept up my arm to my shoulder.
Startled, I hurriedly summoned my energy to resist the frost.
After a prolonged struggle against the cold, the brilliant glow from the sword faded. The intense chill vanished along with it.
The sword returned to its ordinary state, as if nothing had happened.
I was baffled.
As its owner—its true self—I knew exactly what this reaction meant.
It was a response it showed only when something displeased it.
Rebellion. Pettiness.
Whether one could truly call such a lethal act—one that would freeze a person's soul before they could even react—mere rebellion or pettiness, I wasn't sure.
"Hah."
It was something I often did myself, but being on the receiving end made my blood boil like nothing else.
Still, my bewilderment outweighed my anger.
The fact that the source of its displeasure was likely me left me utterly flustered.
A body rejecting its own soul.
It was beyond absurd—it was disconcerting.
But the sword remained quiet, as if it had never thrown its tantrum.
Just like when I had first reunited with it—calm and still.
Yet it wasn't the same as back then.
If its silence before had stemmed from indifference, the quiet now felt like the sly watchfulness of something lurking in the shadows, observing its prey.
I was certain.
It was watching me.
The occasional eerie gaze I felt was proof.
Its purpose had to be testing my worthiness.
"Have I ever seen such an insolent wretch?"
Where in the world could there be another who treated its other half this way?
I was incredulous, yet it wasn't entirely incomprehensible.
After all, the body I now inhabited was no ordinary vessel.
It had taken centuries of sword mastery, the experience of raising countless knights, and even consuming an elixir before I barely reached mastery.
After reconstructing the body, I had overcome its dismal aptitude to some degree, but not completely.
In the eyes of a supreme being who had shared legends and epic tales with countless myths and heroes, it was still woefully inadequate.
Normally, it wouldn't have reacted at all, let alone thrown a tantrum.
But now, I possessed achievements and stature that compensated for the body's shortcomings.
The heroic stature earned by slaying the Warlord, and my myriad other deeds, propped me up.
It couldn't reject me outright because of my stature, yet it hesitated to accept the contract due to my soul.
Too valuable to discard, yet not quite right to claim immediately.
That must have been how it saw me.
So it sulked pointlessly, unable to do either.
I wouldn't have acted differently in its place.
I found myself nodding in understanding.
The question was why it had chosen now to take an interest.
Until just recently, it hadn't reacted no matter what I did with this body.
Nothing had changed between then and now.
Or so I thought.
But I was wrong.
After much contemplation, I finally uncovered the reason.
The answer lay in my old friend's dying words.
"Please look after my descendants."
Four hundred years ago, my friend had asked me to care for his lineage, and I had promised I would.
Then he passed away.
To keep my vow, I waited for his descendants to come to me—but ended up dozing off.
For a full four centuries.
In that time, the kingdom he founded had become a mere vassal state of the empire—barely worth drinking. His descendants endured humiliation and disgrace across generations.
It wasn't my intention, but I had effectively broken my promise.
I felt deeply wronged by the situation.
I had excuses, too.
First, I hadn't failed to keep the promise; I simply never got the chance. His descendants had locked me away deep in the palace and never sought me out.
Second, as a dragon slayer, I was a mighty being, and the battle with the mad dragon had drained me greatly. Even I needed time to recover my strength.
Though it was my fault for not waking when his descendants finally came.
I recognized my failing and had striven to make amends.
I poured all my efforts into restoring the kingdom to its former glory, believing that would fulfill the forgotten oath.
But no.
Regardless of my efforts, the vow remained unfulfilled.
My friend's request was to care for his descendants personally—not the kingdom.
And strictly speaking, all my actions had been for the Leonberger Kingdom, not directly for his bloodline.
Except for one thing: saving the dying king.
Back then, it had been pure desire to save him. But in the end, it might have prevented a potential failure on my part.
What I healed wasn't just the king's wounds.
My soul, which had frayed away unknowingly as I forgot the oath.
That, too, was among what I had mended.
I couldn't help but laugh.
Saving the king, healing my soul, and reclaiming my friend's dragon slayer spirit.
One stone, three birds—how could I not laugh?
But the mirth was fleeting.
I wiped the smile from my face.
Then I picked up my sword and glared at it intently.
"Your insolence won't last much longer."
The sword trembled at my words.
As if exasperated.
Ignoring it, I gripped the hilt tightly, as if throttling it, and growled.
"Just as I'm not free from the oath, neither are you."
As long as Leonberger blood flowed in this body, the sword would have no choice but to accept me eventually.
And when that time came, the immense power it held would be mine.
Thinking of the approaching day brought a smile to my lips.
I laughed aloud.
Then suddenly stopped, my expression hardening.
"What a mad bastard."
The sight of myself threatening my own body was utterly ridiculous.
I holed up in my chambers for a while, not stepping out. The sword's frequent tantrums made it impossible to go anywhere.
I endured its antics with a cheerful heart, viewing it as a necessary process.
After four days of this standoff in my room, Kals came to see me.
"You're here? I heard you've been busy lately."
"Count Stuugart keeps summoning me."
There were rumors that the Royal Knight Order Captain had his eye on Kals as his successor, and it seemed they were true.
That crusty old knight wouldn't call Kals without reason.
I teasingly prepared to congratulate him in advance, but Kals suddenly grew serious.
"Lately, unsettling rumors have been circulating in the palace."
"Rumors? What ru... wait."
I frowned mid-question.
The sword had started its tantrum.
"Step back."
To keep Kals from getting caught up, I pushed him away and summoned my energy to fend off the chill.
As always, the sword sulked until its fit passed, then withdrew the cold as if nothing had happened.
"Hoo."
I exhaled deeply, expelling the invading frost from my body, when I felt a gaze and turned.
Kals was staring at me.
"I was just about to mention the rumors of the strange chill emanating from Your Highness's palace."
His furrowed brow and grim expression suggested a lecture was imminent.
"Ah, that's nothing serious."
"Is it truly? Your Highness's right hand doesn't look fine at all."
Following his gaze, I saw my right hand, still encased in frost I hadn't fully shaken off.
I scowled and channeled mana into it.
Clenching my fist with a crunch, the ice encasing my hand shattered in one go.
"There, all good?"
Kals frowned.
"Are you perhaps training in something special?"
"Is there training that involves freezing your own body?"
"I've never heard of it, but if it makes one stronger, Your Highness wouldn't hesitate to burn in flames, let alone freeze."
"I'm not planning to end my young life that way."
As I responded half-heartedly, Kals narrowed his eyes further.
"Then what is that chill?"
After a moment's thought, I slyly revealed my sword.
"This guy's throwing a bit of a fit."
At my words, Kals's face drained of color.
"Discard that sword at once!"
"It's the royal family's treasured blade."
Kals stiffened.
"Your Highness. If you can't discard it, at least keep your distance. To my senses, that chill just now was far from auspicious."
He spoke softly, his eyes fixed on the sword.
His gaze held suspicion, as if it were some cursed object.
It wasn't my imagination.
"There were many whispers that the Third Prince's madness stemmed from that sword. I'm concerned it might carry some unknown curse, and I cannot bear it."
In truth, Kals seemed convinced it was a demonic sword.
It was, of course—but this tantrum differed from the Third Prince's time.
Back then, he was mere bait. I was the contractor.
Even if the sword currently resented me greatly.
"It's fine. You just saw it. This chill is no threat to me."
"And this isn't the first time, as I understand."
Kals began pouring out his worries.
Midnight chills bursting forth, drawing duty knights to my chambers where they found me frozen stiff in bed.
Me, who never skipped meals, sending food away untouched; the maidens checked and found it frozen solid.
I scowled inwardly, cursing the sword for acting up in front of the ever-worried Kals.
"It's fine. Really."
"If it harms Your Highness's body..."
"Argh, I'm telling you, I'm unaffected."
I insisted it was fine, but Kals wouldn't stop nagging.
At this rate, he'd lecture me all day.
"Kals."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"This is the Dragon Slayer testing whether I'm worthy to be its master."
"What do you...?"
"This kingdom's founder went through the same process."
Kals snapped his mouth shut at my solemn tone.
It wasn't a lie. I had indeed thrown similar fits when my overly righteous friend annoyed me.
Invoking the founder's name worked wonders—too well, even.
"Your Highness..."
Kals gazed at me with eyes brimming with admiration. More so than usual today.
"Indeed, who but Your Highness could earn the Dragon Slayer's recognition? This is an achievement even past kings failed to attain. I, Kals Yulihi, can only marvel at Your Highness's prowess."
They hadn't earned it because I was too deeply asleep.
Seeing Kals's fanatical, blind devotion, I swallowed my retort.
"I must inform the others of this at once."
"No need for that..."
"His Majesty is greatly worried. He fears the treatment strained you, leaving some affliction in your body, and cannot set his mind at ease."
With that, Kals began rising to leave.
A hollow laugh escaped me.
Kals was deeply trusted among the court knights for his prudence and thoughtfulness. He was so taciturn that maids feigned illness just to hear his voice once.
For such a man to fuss so over matters concerning me wasn't unpleasant.
Left alone, he'd probably proclaim to the palace that the Dragon Slayer's master had finally been born.
"I haven't fully earned its recognition yet. Let's hold off telling others for a bit."
I wanted quiet time to bond with my sword, so I sealed his lips with suitable words.
Thus, I avoided the fuss.
For the time being—until the kingdom's visitors came swarming to see me.