I Already Ground It Up
“...What do you mean by that.”
Besk instinctively reached for his waist as he backed away.
But naturally, there was nothing there to grab.
Leo closed the distance by exactly as much as he had retreated, tilting her head.
“What do you mean, indeed?”
“Are you planning to betray the Empire?”
“Ehh, no way? Do I look crazy enough to do that?”
Waving her head in exaggerated denial, Leo chuckled and flopped onto one of the plush sofas in the lobby.
Spirits trailed after her, one by one.
A sight one often saw around the Spirit Deity Duke.
“Some of them are gifts from Duke Arne, you know. Besides, my territory belongs to the Empire too—how could I possibly betray it?”
“Then...”
“Nothing, really. Just banter?”
Hehe.
“You kept bringing up Duke Arne, so I thought maybe this was what you wanted.”
Wasn't it?
“........”
At Leo's casually tossed remark, Besk's hand clenched hard against his empty waist.
Still, nothing came away in his grip.
Insolent brat.
And yet, there was nothing he could do about it.
Each of the Eight Swords wielded enough power to topple a kingdom on their own—but their strength was by no means equal.
Some could barely defeat a single kingdom.
Others held power sufficient to win even if several kingdoms banded together against them all at once.
Naturally, the former described Besk; the latter were 'seniors' like Duke Hwangyeol and Duke Mageuk.
And the one who stood at roughly the same position and power as those men was the Contractor of the Spirit Kings.
The Spirit Deity Duke, Arne Parthia.
'Not quite factions yet... but the Eight Swords have already split into two sides.'
A subtle line drawn around Duke Mageuk and Duke Ryeongshin.
And then there was Duke Hwangyeol, who maintained neutrality through his royal blood, along with the Empire's Saintess, Nea.
The Eight Swords were, in practice, the swords of the royal house, and all of them swore loyalty to the throne.
Yet this line, divided from the very moment the Eight Swords were first conceived, had persisted for centuries down to the present day.
Duke Hwangyeol made no move to stop it—rather, he wielded it as a tool for balancing power, mediating between the mighty blades.
'The Empire has never split apart. Duke Mageuk and Duke Ryeongshin are outwardly like friends. In truth, they fought for a long time as Eight Swords, back to back.'
But the wars of conquest were things of decades, centuries past, and for Besk—infinitely younger than those titans—there was no way of knowing what had actually happened.
All Besk knew was this: the two of them had shut themselves away in their respective domains, refusing even to look at each other.
And that this subtle 'line' had been growing wider and wider as time passed.
'Then the outsider who caught Duke Ryeongshin's interest. Leo.'
Why had that girl suddenly changed her attitude...
“What are you brooding so hard about?”
Suddenly!
Leo was right in front of Besk's nose, shaking her head with a chuckle.
“It was a joke. You're taking it so seriously.”
“...A joke?”
“I came here as a member of the Empire now. Not an outsider, not a foreigner. And...”
Grin.
“Not as some extension of Duke Arne, either.”
“........”
“Same goes for you, Lord Besk, right?”
“...Th-that's right.”
“Then there's no problem at all. Problem solved!”
Yahoo! Leo thrust her stubby little arms up in the air with exaggerated flourish.
After shaking herself off like someone stretching out a stiff back, she turned and settled back onto the sofa.
“Well. As for the sacred relic, I'll ask Lady Lily. If it can be recovered, I'll aim to bring it back as much as possible.”
“Really?!”
“Yep. Though compensation will probably be required... you'd better be prepared for that?”
“Understood. Gold, weapons, anything—tell them we'll pay whatever they ask.”
As long as we get the sacred relic back.
Right now, he had no confidence he could touch Lily, let alone defeat her.
Given how things stood, it was better to bow for now, and simply reclaim everything once it was all over.
“But will she really give it back?”
“Probably? It's not like Lady Lily is a swordswoman or anything. So long as the price is sufficient, I don't see why not?”
“I already ground it up, though.”
“I'm sorry—what?”
“I-Is that for real...?”
Leo asked, half hoping she'd heard wrong.
She'd been running the Empire quest, so she hadn't been watching the stream properly—but she did know that Lily had met Drak.
Still, to think she'd plan to use the Empire's sacred relic itself as weapon material.
“Yep.”
Even if it was a weapon of the Ssalwolgong house, every sacred relic was, first and foremost, the property of the Empire—and of the Emperor.
If she just went and ground the Emperor's property into dust...
“Th-that'll be a huge problem, won't it.”
“Bigger than the time I got ambushed?”
Lily answered with utter indifference.
Trailing after that very Lily was the hatchling Sre.
Leo swallowed hard as she took in Sre, who had grown too big to hold in her arms anymore.
“Even now, do you think you could give it back—”
“If you bring me material of the same grade? Though I doubt that would accomplish anything.”
If Metamor of equivalent quality had still been available, she would have simply crafted it herself.
Why on earth would anyone hand over a brand-new Metamor just to obtain one that had already been broken down?
It was an absurd premise.
“Will you be in trouble if you can't get it back, Miss Leo?”
“Oh, no, it's not that. I'm just a little worried about Lady Lily.”
Hmm.
“The Empire actually doesn't like war. I know that's rich coming from people who ran conquest campaigns for centuries, but it's genuinely true.”
The Empire's purpose was, above all else, to be the strongest nation in the world—the apex of all living things, humanity included.
And so, having already achieved that purpose, the Empire had no desire to become the ruler of every world.
“The reason they aren't all that eager for war and pull back at a certain line is to avoid absorbing losses beyond what's necessary.”
The Empire's manpower, the Empire's resources, the Empire's territory.
If all of these yielded gains that outweighed the investment, the Empire would launch a war without hesitation—but if the returns were merely equal, or worse, it would stop.
The countless kingdoms that had survived until now were living proof of that.
“But if the Empire suffers a one-sided loss, that's a different story.”
The Empire must be a power to whom nothing is impossible.
Losses born of the Empire's own intent were one thing—but a loss caused by a variable like this, the Empire would judge as slipping beyond its control.
It would erase the variable, even if it meant deploying asymmetric forces like the Eight Swords.
“That's a bit weak for 'asymmetric forces,' though.”
“Th-the Ssalwolgong is NOT the standard for the Eight Swords! Among the Eight Swords there are ones with unimaginable—!”
“I know.”
I smiled faintly and patted Leo's head.
There was no doubt that this Ssalwolgong person ranked among the weaker Eight Swords.
I had no idea just how strong the others were, but I had already witnessed the Saintess—and the golden power that had come tearing through the 'rift' alongside her.
A power even the current me couldn't be certain of overcoming.
And yet they had stirred up trouble anyway, because they were confident.
“You don't need to worry. Whatever comes of it, it's mine to shoulder.”
“.......”
“Besides, I'm used to it.”
“?”
For me, facing an enemy beyond all imagining was as routine as a full moon rising.
“...I don't know what you mean, but I can't help you. I might even end up fighting you..."
“Then I'll take you seriously when I fight you.”
“Ah.”
“Or—want to come over to my side instead?”
“That's a bit... I've already received so much from them..."
I asked on the off chance, but Leo gave an awkward smile and shook her head.
Too soon, then.
Three more days passed after that.
Over the three days it took to have my weapon forged, the World Boss's health dropped from 78% to 70%.
An achievement the Imperial army and Leo had worked hard to deliver.
Small compared to the Empire's reputation, admittedly—but 8% was still a respectable dent.
Word had also spread far and wide that Ssalwolgong, one of the Eight Swords, had attacked Sre and gotten his sacred relic stolen in return.
I hadn't gone around spreading it myself, but the moment I turned on my stream and broadcasted, spreading was inevitable.
The kingdoms rejoiced; the Empire felt its pride pricked, but since every ounce of blame lay with Ssalwolgong, no one made any particular approach toward me.
By all accounts, Ssalwolgong had answered the Empire's summons and returned to the capital...
Well. I'm sure they'll sort themselves out.
“Here.”
And so I received from Drak the completed eighth Masterpiece.
A long weapon wrapped in pure white cloth.
The unique sensation of Metamor came clearly through the fabric and into my palms.
“Finished faster than I expected. I hear it usually takes two weeks to a month.”
“The material, lad. You know the nature of the material as well as anyone.”
“I suppose I do.”
Metamor was a substance with the property of dismantling and reassembling its own structure by itself.
So long as an artisan's design underpinned it, most of the work was done by the Metamor itself.
“The base form is a spear, for now. It can later shift into a hammer, but don't try it in here—”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“My workshop is precious to me.”
And here I'd been about to try it right away.
I unwrapped the cloth, feeling a twinge of disappointment.
The white cloth fell away, revealing a long white spear shaft that filled my hand to the brim.
A keen-edged spearhead, and at the joint, that faint gray luminescence unique to Metamor.
It was, undeniably, a superb piece of work.
“Oh...”
“Try as I might, no other name would come to me. You may not like it.”
“?”
A name?
As I turned the spearhead over again, a single message appeared before me.
A weapon imbued with the will and character of its wielder.
[The White Savior wishes for salvation.]