Chapter 278
Chapter 278
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Cursed Demon Sword
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"Bolton, you mad bastard!!! You've finally caused a disaster!!! Abandoning your duty as a Sword Keeper and borrowing the power of an abomination...!!!"
Kort interpreted the scene of carnage unfolding before him in that manner.
Bolton had abandoned his duty as a Sword Keeper and laid hands on an abomination.
How else could one explain the maid on the verge of death reviving and radiating divinity?
Who could nonchalantly perform such a near-miraculous feat?
Right.
Perhaps the church's saintess, who carried miracles in her wake.
But there was nothing resembling a saintess here.
Or maybe that man called Rishir was actually the saintess?
Absurd. It was a foolish notion that even local kids would scoff at.
There was no room for doubt.
All of this was the result of Bolton borrowing the power of the abomination and distorting the natural order.
"...Ha, hahaha!!! Yes, Bolton!!! This is your decision! A decision worthy of respect from the master of Tormun and the noble head of the Sword Keepers!!!"
The 'opponent' was deploying the weapon known as an abomination without hesitation.
To Kort, this was a clear ill omen.
Yet right now, Kort was displaying a strange euphoria.
"Thank you, Bolton! For personally proving that man wrong!!! For proving that you and I aren't all that different!!!"
It was the cry of a man born as the family's firstborn yet denied recognition by his mother, forced to yield everything to his younger brother.
Even as he betrayed the family and the group for his own desires, Kort had held onto one final line.
Lacking justification, he couldn't openly aim for Bolton's position.
But now, things were different.
Bolton had broken his oath out of corrupt desire and touched the abomination.
-If we actively utilize the abomination, we can restore our group and family to greatness!
He had become no different from his past self, rejected by the family head.
Kort believed that a Bolton without cause or justification was nothing.
Now, he had no reservations.
"Delron! Did you see that? That's the true nature of the master you serve!!! When his situation turns disadvantageous, he casually breaks the Sword Keepers' oath! What makes him so different from me? No, what makes him better than me!?"
Delron of the stone heart. Turning him to his side here was next to impossible.
However, while he couldn't win him over, he could shake him.
"Open your eyes, Delron. Bolton isn't worthy of a man like you serving him."
Kort had long eyed an opportunity to sway Delron.
Thus, he knew that man very well.
Could that stone heart maintain its loyalty even after witnessing the current Bolton?
Kort was certain.
Delron's loyalty had already drifted away from Bolton!
"..."
"...!"
Kort panicked.
Because Delron was gazing at him with an unchanging look.
It was the gaze one directed at the headache of the master they served.
"Why!? Delron! Can't you see this!? Your master—no, Bolton is no different from me! Ah, or is it that—"
Kort formed a smug smile, as if he'd figured it out.
"I get it now, Delron. You're interested in the power of the abomination too, aren't you? Then we'll get along even better."
Kort extended his hand toward Delron.
"Delron. Come under me. Bolton is a weakling. He only reveals his desires as an excuse when a crisis finally hits—a pathetic hypocrite. Do you think such a man can fully utilize the Sword Keepers' legacy?"
No!
Kort cried out in an exalted tone.
"He can't. Only I can. From the beginning, I've dreamed only of that!"
"...Was it you who entrusted the succession ledger to Shironi?"
"Yes! While I came and went from the warehouse, Bolton didn't even notice! Why? Because he's afraid of the warehouse interior! Unlike me! Yes! The reason he never touched the warehouse until now wasn't honor, conviction, or any such noble thing! He was simply scared! So when the demon sword vanished and the fire was at his feet, he finally started scurrying in and out in a panic!"
The doorway, opened amid the recent commotion, had by now gathered a crowd.
Each one was someone of significant standing within the group, residing at the family's main estate.
Kort thought it perfect timing.
He boldly shouted, intending to shake the hearts of them all at once.
"As everyone knows, I was born to be this family's master! Destined to be its head! But the foolish previous family head deemed my strength as greed and his own weakness as pride! Look again! Is the one who so easily abandons his convictions in a crisis truly honorable!? Am I merely greedy for stubbornly upholding my convictions and losing everything!? Sword Keepers! Now is the time to open your eyes properly! The group's future hangs on your choices!"
"Lord Bolton touched the warehouse—the abomination?"
"No way—"
Confusion dawned on their faces.
Kort seized the moment and pressed on.
"Here's the proof!"
Kort pointed at the maid radiating divinity and explained the prior situation.
Then he cornered Delron.
"Delron! Tell them! In that dramatic situation, what could have done such a thing! What could have helped Bolton!"
"The master of the holy sword and demon sword."
"?"
Sudden nonsense?
From Kort's position, expecting the word 'abomination,' it could only be seen that way.
And the specifics were even more ridiculous.
"The master of the holy sword and demon sword...? Delron, what nonsense are you spouting?"
Kort wasn't the only one bewildered.
"The master of the holy sword and demon sword...?"
"Did I hear that right?"
"I heard the same—"
The crowd at the door buzzed.
-It's a fire ice spirit!
Not much different.
That was how they interpreted Delron's statement.
The master of a holy sword is a hero, dominated by a demon sword makes one a demon swordsman—
But master of both holy and demon sword? What was that?
A riddle or deranged ravings—take your pick.
Either way, it wasn't suitable for the current situation.
Their gazes toward Delron grew subtle.
Not the reaction he'd hoped for, but Kort didn't think it was bad.
At any rate, they were starting to view Delron suspiciously—
and that suspicion was spreading to Bolton.
The maid's initial assault, the trigger for all this, was already forgotten.
A stain on gray cloth draws less notice than one on white.
The allegation against the innocent Sword Keeper head was that grave a matter.
"Delron. You're out of your mind. Have you been affected by the abomination too?"
Riding the atmosphere, Kort sneered at them.
"..."
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Delron's face.
He sighed and scratched his head belatedly.
Realizing it.
How utterly absurd his proud declaration—'Everyone, know this clearly and realize it!'—truly was.
The master of the holy sword and demon sword, indeed.
Spouting it out of nowhere was perfect fodder for being labeled insane.
But what could he do?
It was indisputable fact.
Moreover, nothing else explained the current situation.
An extraordinary identity. Power.
That was the key to convincing the three parties.
'Lord Rishir—'
Thus, Delron hesitantly looked to Rishir.
He knew it was pathetic, but he had no choice but to rely on him now.
In truth.
Even relying on him felt uncertain.
Even for him, was it possible?
To calm them while shattering(?) their thought processes in this situation—
Delron gritted his teeth.
A slight misstep could make it uncontrollable.
Kort lacked Bolton's prestige but had seized everything else.
While Bolton fulfilled his role as family head and group leader, Kort expanded his influence externally.
Extending that to the entire city rather than just the family, Kort's influence clearly surpassed Bolton's.
If Bolton's position was tarnished here.
It would only be a matter of time before Kort sowed discord in the family and group.
'Lord Rishir...!'
Reviewing it step by step, the situation grew graver.
Delron looked to Rishir with desperation.
"..."
Understanding the situation, Rishir nodded.
He briefly exchanged glances with his companion Alenza.
Soon, Alenza pulled back her hood.
"Here, we have a dragon."
"...!"
The room buzzed.
And it didn't end there.
"And here, the holy sword."
Rishir's holy sword emitted light.
"And here, the demon sword."
Rishir's demon sword exuded an ominous aura.
"Ah. By the way, it's a different demon sword from what you all know."
Thus, Rishir methodically(?) persuaded the room.
"Yes. That's how it happened. Does everyone understand?"
"...Aha!"
They understood nothing.
Which made it feel understood instead.
Rishir's sequence of actions hijacked their thinking like operating a machine.
"Here's why we could help the maid. Understand that too?"
Got it! Got it!
Outwardly dazed, inwardly their thoughts nodded vigorously.
"In other words, Sir Bolton neither used the abomination nor broke his Sword Keeper oath. He upheld the Sword Keeper's pride and rightfully sought my aid."
Bolton good! Good!
They nodded as if surrendering to a torrent.
"Now, shall we discuss the true culprit? Kort. He incited the maid to have me read the succession ledger. To pin all the crimes on Sir Bolton."
Kort bad! Bad!
The room's hostility turned to Kort.
"Y-You fools—such drivel—..."
Kort's once oil-slick tongue grew sluggish.
He too was not immune to Rishir's logic(?).
Put in the same position, he'd have reacted identically.
"From the circumstances, it's highly likely the series of events regarding the demon sword's disappearance was also Kort's doing."
Yes! It's Kort! Kort!
The crowd entered the room and slowly surrounded Kort's group.
"Fuck, what kind of bullshit—"
The bobbed-hair woman at Kort's side spat bitterly.
It was a reaction to the full story leading to this cornering, more than the cornering itself.
'This should cover the meal cost.'
The table was set; all that remained was laying out the spoon.
Rishir looked to Bolton.
"...Eh!?"
Bolton's body flinched.
His state was no different from the others.
-Things turned out like this?
Rishir's logic(?), skipping far too many steps.
Anyway, thanks to the holy and demon swords.
Even he, barely keeping up via self-hypnosis, reached his limit.
He fell into self-contradiction, wondering if he should step forward here.
The logic(?) vortex swallowed friend and foe alike.
"..."
Ah.
So it ends up like this after all.
This too was familiar.
Rishir deftly reclaimed the initiative Bolton had lost.
"Kort. Tell the truth. What did you do with the demon sword?"
"It has nothing to do with me! This was all that maid acting on her own—"
Kort tried to play innocent.
"Why sudden ice magic in a patisserie!!! I anticipate your doubt in reading this!!! But if you deeply understand patisserie, you'll grasp how useful ice magic is!!! Cold air greatly raises the threshold of sweetness!!! Once you realize how much it expands patisserie's possibilities, you'll inevitably take interest in ice magic too!!!"
Until the divinity-radiating patisserie maid interrogated him from the side, that is.
Kort's gaze darted frantically between the maid and Rishir.
His expression dyed with vague anxiety.
It didn't take long for that anxiety to devour his flimsy camaraderie.
"Hey, promise me...!!! If you give the answer you want, I'll inflict only as much pain as I can understand...!!!"
"...Deal."
It was a negotiation pattern he was used to by now.
Rishir responded in a meaningful tone, meeting their expectations(?).
Then, fearing Rishir might retract, Kort hurriedly spoke.
"The demon sword's current location is—"
"...!"
Sensing something off, Rishir moved urgently.
But it was already too late.
The distance gap was clear.
"Gahk—"
A sharp blade pierced through Kort's chest.
A precise strike targeting the lungs robbed him of breath and speech alike.
The work of the bobbed-hair woman at his side.
"You greedy pig bastard. The mouth that should be heavy is so light."
She withdrew the sword with a venomous smile, preparing the next strike.
A sharp line slashed through the air.
Splat.
What was once Kort lost form and splattered messily on the floor.
"Kort!!!"
The woman smirked at Bolton's scream as if it were amusing jest.
Like their first meeting, she tilted her chin toward Rishir.
"Well? Gonna revive this one too?"
"..."
Rishir assumed combat stance instead of answering.
Whether it was the desired response, the woman burst into shrill laughter.
"That's right! You'd do that! Enough with the saintess act! Yeah? Reviving even this would've made me—a bit jealous?"
"Are you the mastermind behind all this?"
"Idiot. Think I'd answer just because you asked?"
"You think you can escape from here?"
"Ugh...!"
As Rishir advanced gripping his holy sword, she flinched and stepped back.
Or so it seemed.
"—Expecting that reaction, huh?"
She grinned ear to ear.
"First off. Good work. You really put in the effort for me."
"...What?"
The woman leered at Rishir's waist, where the jet-black sword hung.
"Hey, beast."
"...!"
That conversation. That communion.
The room fell into shock.
The woman's identity was revealed.
Demon Sword: Curse.
She was the worst abomination lost by the Popendal Sword Keepers.
"Pathetic sight. Getting caught by a hero scrap with just one holy sword. Well, half-baked as he is, with a dragon tagging along, can't be helped?"
"Anyway. Long time no see. Perfect. I was at a loss how to find you lot. You showing up right before me like this."
The woman reached out toward Rishir.
Realizing what that gesture meant, the room despaired.
Demon swords.
Even one alone could crush a sword master's will—the worst abominations were about to join hands.
"No need to bother taking this piglet's shitty city anymore. Beast. Let's go. I'll help you escape that guy."
The Night of Swords.
Or the Sword Demon King.
The moment his fragments merged and he returned, the era of peace would end in apocalypse.
"E-Everyone, protect Rishir!!! We must stop those two demon swords from uniting!!! Even if it costs our lives!!!"
The Sword Keeper head shouted with all his might.
He believed without doubt that the Sword Keepers' raison d'être was right here and now.
"Lit the fire, but the bugs stay put?"
The woman smirked and stepped forward.
A step laced with confidence that one more would bring the other to join.
Another step.
The woman yielded her aura to the beast.
So it could fully sense her.
So they could unite.
"Then I suppose I should kill you as desired?"
It was the moment the great evil's reunification was about to occur.
The woman's expression hardened rigidly.
"...Beast, what did you just—"
The woman could clearly see it.
The beast's form, black long hair flowing like a dress enveloping its body.
Curling up and trembling, she wore a relieved smile.