Let Me Think About It

Ilmacheonwang shattered into pieces.

My surprise at his power exceeding my expectations lasted only a moment before his body began recovering, the scattered fragments of his flesh knitting themselves back together.

“Huurgh!!”

Still sprawled on the ground, Ilmacheonwang groped frantically at his own neck.

I didn't just cut off your head, you know.

“Lord Corfus was waving at me from way over there...”

“Dying in one piece and still putting on an act.”

Rasty said this with a glare at the sword in my hand. “What an insolent blade.”

“Did you order the regeneration, Rasty?”

“No.”

Then Ilmacheonwang's recovery must have been a side effect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the Divinity of Healing...

So why did he get blasted to pieces in the first place? If Soul of Purification had truly punched through the Divinity of Healing, his shattered body shouldn't have been able to regenerate at all. Something didn't add up.

As I studied the sword and Ilmacheonwang closely, an anomaly occurred.

“Huh?”

“Is something the matter?”

“...It's gone.”

“?”

From inside my head.

“The instructions for Slaughter have vanished.”

The second authority of the Silver Purifier: Soul of Purification.

Soul of Purification was a special ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ability possessed by Masterpieces — normally it slumbered, quietly gathering strength as it slept.

When the Silver Purifier encountered something non-living, it awakened from its sleep and spent its accumulated power to borrow one of the sword arts of the Mythic Age.

“The Slaughter it borrowed just now was a sword technique used by a swordsman of the Mythic Age. You all saw what it could do, right?”

Since it was an authority granted by Lorelies, one of the Heavenly Race, the technique must have belonged to one of the celestials of the past.

Celestials who wielded the sword were never numerous — but precisely because they were few, a handful among them had reached the very summit of the blade.

Even borrowing only the weakest technique from among them would make finding an equal in this place no easy feat.

“When it borrows a technique, you gain both the instructions for using it and, temporarily, the physical capabilities needed to execute it. You could say it makes sure the technique itself can be performed without any strain.”

Shring.

I drew the sword out again with my left hand.

Because Soul of Purification had been spent, no authority stirred even with a vampire standing right in front of me — but its purifying power was still working, unmistakably.

“Once the technique is used, the power is drained, and everything it lent out gets reclaimed. The physical capabilities, the power. And...”

“Even the instructions?”

“Even the instructions.”

Whatever it lent out, it took back in full.

Leaving nothing behind.

“You're asking why I'm holding it in my left? Good question.”

Instead of the left hand gripping the Silver Purifier, I raised my right hand — the one I normally used.

It hung limp at my side, swinging loosely like a pendulum.

Rasty looked at my right hand and a flicker of interest crossed her face. “The strength is gone, so your body can't withstand the aftermath.”

“Powerful power always comes with a price.”

A technique of the celestials — and not just any celestial, but one of those at the very top.

It didn't lend you the instructions alone; it lent you enough strength to wield the technique in full. Naturally, the backlash that followed was going to be colossal.

Only because my body and soul were exceptionally durable did it end with nothing more than an arm flopping around uselessly. An ordinary user could have been knocked half-unconscious — or died outright — and no one would have blinked.

The reason the Divinity of Healing had kicked in so late was that the power of Slaughter had been suppressing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the healing force right up until it vanished.

“The one silver lining is that you take no damage while the technique is active. It probably varies from technique to technique, but I'd say it lasts about twenty or thirty seconds.”

You accomplish whatever you set out to do within that brief window — and then you collapse.

It looks riddled with flaws, but as a means of taking your enemy down with you, it's more than efficient enough.

In a way, it resembles Sacred Fire.

Though the difference between them is extreme.

“I don't really have a reason to use it, though.”

“Why not? Isn't it useful?”

“Oh, it's useful, all right.”

A sword art that cleaves through even lower-rank demons.

You take no damage during the technique itself and shoulder the risk only after everything is over. It doesn't look bad — but I know techniques far, far beyond it.

Using it in my fourth state would only end in everything healing back anyway. Even if Soul of Purification pierces the healing divinity, the wounds would eventually recover — and if I used it in my third state, I'd have to accept that monstrous backlash.

At that, a suggestion floated up from the chat.

“...That would technically be possible, but hmm. Even accounting for that, I still end up like this.”

I held my right arm up to the camera.

Still swinging loose and limp.

The Divinity of Healing was already hard at work on it, and yet here it was.

You could ask why something called healing wasn't healing anything — but to be precise, this wasn't a wound of the flesh.

Techniques like Slaughter place their burden on the soul.

Just as my recovery can't mend the strain Yena's Spear's Roar or other special techniques put on the body's foundations, a wounded soul has no cure.

The only options are time — that fine old physician — or a systematic resurrection.

“The Silver Purifier's base purification ability is excellent even without the Soul of Purification, so it'd be far more efficient for someone other than me to use it.”

“And who are you planning to give it to?”

“Let's see how things go first.”

There were a few candidates... but I honestly wasn't sure who would be best.

“Yena has to clear it on her own.”

If she scraped through a quest on a stroke of luck like this, she'd never achieve complete growth.

Yena's goal wasn't simply to clear the quest — it was to truly master Storm Slash.

Even after all this back-and-forth, my right hand was still dangling uselessly at my side.

Nothing to be done about it.

Shring.

“Uh, uh-oh?”

“Let's finish up with one last test of the base performance.”

“Is it going to go bang again?”

“Oh, come on. It'll be perfectly fine this time.”

“That's what you said last─”

Aaaaargh...

With the Silver Purifier's performance confirmed, I wrapped up the test stream.

The sword's base attack power and purification ability had exceeded expectations. It hadn't managed to punch clean through the Divinity of Healing the way Soul of Purification had, but according to Ilmacheonwang, something about it kept giving him the lingering sensation of being cut somewhere unseen.

Rasty dismissed this as more whining, which Ilmacheonwang vehemently denied, insisting his body truly was in that state.

There was no denying that the power of Purification dealt devastating damage to a vampire... but in the end, since it couldn't break through the healing, there was no compelling reason to use the Silver Purifier myself after all.

Anyway, the weapon testing was done — now I had to agonize over who would wield the Silver Purifier.

First consideration: a ranker who actually fights with a sword.

No matter how much Soul of Purification temporarily elevates its user into a sword god, at every other moment it's nothing more than a very strong blade.

Naturally, it should go to rankers skilled in the sword.

The most representative sword-wielding rankers were...

“Sword God. And Aisha.”

There was also Vlack, but he wielded a greatsword — and other rankers who used swords...

“Leo?”

Leo had fought with a sword too, back when she went around calling herself a mad blade or whatever.

She was a spirit mage, so calling her a pure swordswoman would be a stretch, but physically she was exceptional — which made her ideally suited to shoulder the sword's burden.

Beyond her, there were surely plenty of swordsmen I didn't even know about.

The second consideration was trust.

I had no intention of handing my work to anyone who might go off-script or act on their own whims beyond what I'd already imagined. Talented or not, I wasn't generous enough to arm a potential enemy.

Clack.

I set the sword down on the desk in the dean's office.

“An enemy, huh...”

Truthfully, there was one more person I could lend it to.

A swordsman who might handle this blade even better than any user could.

Birang Brenis.

One of the Empire's Six Swords — a swordsman through and through.

In pure skill, no user could match her, and with suspicion and distrust toward Hwangyeolgong growing lately, there was a faint window of possibility.

But fundamentally, Birang was a disciple of the Spirit God Duke, just like Leo — and she belonged to the Empire.

Even if she grew hostile toward Hwangyeolgong, she would still be the first to step forward to protect the Spirit God Duke and the Empire.

If Elbritte and the Empire were ever endangered at the same moment, she would leave to save the Empire without a flicker of hesitation.

As a knight of a nation, that was only proper — something deserving of respect. But from the perspective of someone lending out a weapon, proper was the last thing I needed.

After that, I even called Yena — who sounded half-dead from exhaustion — and combed through user information with her, but no easy answer came.

“...Let me think it over for a while.”

Right. I had about two months, so I'd take it slow.

Things seemed likely to stay quiet for a while — I'd juggle the academy and streaming, let some time pass, and an answer would come to me.

And so one month went by.

“...Who do I give it to.”