Chapter 291
Chapter 291
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Scabbard of the Demonic Sword (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The curse thought.
Everything was a fucking mess.
No matter what they did in this situation, it would be meaningless.
However.
Even in such circumstances, a sliver of hope was visible.
Trying to control it by shoving a spirit into the scabbard.
She could declare it with certainty.
This time, those dimwitted fools had committed a fatal mistake in their arrogance.
The scabbard of the demonic sword.
In other words, the flesh of the Night of Swords.
It was not something that could be dared to control.
In truth, even the demonic sword itself, upon becoming one with the scabbard, would gradually be eroded and assimilated, its ego completely vanishing.
In short.
What they had done in their attempt to control the scabbard was no different from granting ego to what had been nothing more than an empty shell.
For the scabbard to fully devour the spirit's ego and transform into a complete being was merely a matter of time.
Yes.
A matter of time.
-Wh-what the hell?! Why!!!
Now, all that remained was to leisurely wait.
However, at the sight unfolding before her eyes, the curse lost her reason and could only scream.
Let's say it was acceptable that, like a knight receiving investiture, it knelt before the hero and placed that holy sword on its shoulder.
A high-ranking spirit could temporarily maintain its ego even within the scabbard.
But the action that followed.
The bastard unhesitatingly gripped the blade of the holy sword with both hands and thrust it straight into the gap in the armor.
Even a body possessing infinite power and potential had its limits.
The resurrection had been unstable, barely scraping together the minimum strength.
On top of that, if it not only left itself defenseless but offered its neck to the hero's strike— no matter how supreme the body, it could not emerge unscathed.
Clank.
And so.
The supreme body that should have claimed all demonic swords and been reborn as the Knight of Nightmares became an empty husk, pathetically rolling across the floor.
The curse could not accept that hollow conclusion.
-You dimwitted bastard...!!! With just that body, you could have become anything!!! You could have achieved anything with your own power!!! You wouldn't have needed to leech off that hero fucker, but— you threw away that chance!? For your worthless loyalty?!
You could have become anything!!! And yet, you discarded it without a care!?
In the end, if you're devoured by that body, what's the point of power?
Even so, the power held by that scabbard possessed an irresistible magic.
The spirit must have clearly felt that power from within the scabbard.
So how could it abandon that body without hesitation!
-Kraaaaaah!!! The height of idiocy!!! That's why you can't escape being a mere tool!!!
-...What?
-I told you plainly!!! With that, you no longer need to be bound to the hero!!!
-...Ha!!!
The curse snorted derisively with all her might.
In her eyes, that spirit(?) was bound by the hero's book.
Otherwise, would it, as a spirit, have obeyed what was practically a threat to enter the scabbard, the very essence of foreboding?
By claiming the scabbard, the bastard could have easily escaped the hero's bindings.
Yet from its response, it seemed the fool hadn't even realized that.
'This sightless idiot. Could it be it didn't even recognize the true value of that body?'
The dominator thought as much.
The spirit had misjudged the scabbard's power, deeming it insufficient to break free from the hero.
'Then— the scabbard's destruction is entirely because it got a moronic master?'
Frustration and rage boiled within her until it felt like her insides were melting.
In this situation, the curse's only consolation was the spirit's reaction.
The realization that with just the scabbard, it could have escaped the hero—
Its response upon grasping that fact!
And so the curse awaited the spirit's answer.
Intending to correct its foolish misunderstanding and savor its regret.
-Yes... With just that scabbard... you no longer needed to be bound to him... You pathetic fool. You probably never noticed.
-Kuhahaha!!! You dull tool!!! Do you think I, of all people, wouldn't know what even you could grasp!
The dominator burst into fiendish laughter.
-Then, you knew and still forfeited the chance to escape him!?
-Isn't that obvious?
-?
-With that hunk of meat around, there's no reason to be bound to the hero anymore, so why the hell would I take it?
-...?
The dominator forgot the whirlwind of intense emotions swirling inside her and was left utterly dumbfounded.
Did it fail to articulate properly?
Or did she fail to comprehend?
Or perhaps—
And so.
In the spectacular final moments as the Night of Swords came to an end, all the dominator—once part of it—could do was writhe in utter bafflement.
"Is... is everything over...?"
One of the cultists muttered.
"Yeah. At this point, it's safe to say it's done. If not, and that thing revives to rampage again— well, let's just die peacefully with dignity then."
"Rest easy. To me, it definitely looks finished."
Yeokcheon and Danil replied with conviction.
Still uneasy, the cultist asked once more.
"...But what exactly is over? What even started in the first place? Am I the only one out of the loop?"
"..."
"..."
Yeokcheon and Danil fell into convinced silence.
Yeah.
Come to think of it.
What started, and what ended?
Something massive had clearly been about to happen and was stopped—
But the events from outset to resolution had unfolded so chaotically that nothing stuck in their heads.
All they could say now was "Good thing it worked out."
"Everyone, thank you."
At that moment.
The hero spoke.
"Without your help, something terrible would surely have happened."
It wasn't mere formality; genuine emotion filled his expression.
Through the series of events, the hero's presence had reached its peak.
Such sincere respect and encouragement from the hero.
The cultists tied everything to the Great Ash's will and meaning.
Yet even they, at this moment, felt pure感動.
Even Yeokcheon, who lived faithfully to her instincts and scorned others' recognition as shackles, wore a satisfied smile.
"...But what help did we even give?"
"..."
"..."
They straightened up with conviction.
Yeah.
Come to think of it.
What help did we provide?
"You helped me find the last demonic sword and its scabbard! Without meeting you all, I couldn't have located the demonic sword and scabbard so easily!"
"Hm..."
Danil nodded.
It wasn't wrong, certainly.
The problem was that it wasn't just "not wrong."
They had dragged the hero into the incident half-forcibly at the Great Ash's behest.
Could that really be called "helping"?
"Perhaps all this was guided by the Great Ash after all."
"...!"
At that moment.
The hero's perceptive remark led the cultists to peace.
"Yes! Surely, all this is the Great Ash's guidance—...!!!"
The cultists exchanged looks, filled with profound fulfillment.
Who cares what it actually was!
If it's the Great Ash's will, they'd gladly accept it!
"Hey, you okay with this?"
Of course, Yeokcheon, no cultist, was the exception.
She spoke to the hero with a dubious expression.
"You're handing over your achievements to that Ash or whatever."
The elated cultists froze en masse.
Not because of Yeokcheon's irreverence toward the Ash.
It would be stranger if Yeokcheon's star showed respect to the Ash.
Rather, they empathized with her words.
Even heroes who saw wealth and power as water couldn't let go of fame.
No.
Precisely because they shunned wealth and power, they craved fame even more.
They figured this man was the same breed of hero.
Hero Rishir.
He had ousted the demonic sword secretly eroding the Ash Order's interior and destroyed the flesh of the Night of Swords.
That alone was legendary.
And in that legend, the Ash Order would be remembered as the foolish, ignorant cultists who birthed a colossal disaster.
Moreover, the Ash Order wasn't just any cult.
They held most of the security authority in the great city of Ifrien.
In other words.
It wouldn't be wrong to say the hero had defended Ifrien in the Ash Order's stead.
That's how fame is born.
When the nameless devour the fame of already renowned groups or individuals.
The Ash Order.
Yeokcheon's star.
They finally realized the source of their nagging discomfort.
It was a sense of crisis.
A problem they hadn't even noticed had been resolved single-handedly by the man.
If word spread, their fame would be absorbed by the hero, leading to an unpleasant situation.
Conversely, a delightful one for the hero.
In short.
The hero was essentially declaring he'd forfeit all that fame.
By crediting it all to the Ash Order.
Yeokcheon's question bore the uncomfortable truth.
Not just the asker, but the cultists too tensed, hanging on the hero's reply.
"Oh, is that how it works?"
An awkward smile.
The hero's answer.
"That's a valid perspective. I learn something new."
He seemed to genuinely reflect on his shortcomings, gaining fresh insight.
Clearly the look of a naive youth—
Yet they saw another facet.
Overwhelming composure— perhaps.
From the start, he hadn't felt the need to cling to such "trifles."
"...Ha!"
A giant's laugh exploded like thunder.
That was the signal.
Their rigid atmosphere softened.
Yeokcheon clutched her belly, roaring with laughter for a while.
The area echoed with the giant's emotions.
A moment later.
Finally composing herself, Yeokcheon looked at the hero and said.
"This kid— no, this hero. You're a heavyweight I can't even compare to, huh?"
The Ash Order seemed deeply impressed not just by the hero's abilities during the incident's resolution, but by his attitude afterward.
It was only natural, in a way.
His detached stance toward his achievements clearly revealed the path he had walked thus far.
Thus, the Ash Order no longer treated the hero as before.
He was no longer a mere fragment of the Great Ash's will.
Something vast transcending it.
The Ash Order accorded him the respect he deserved.
That was why the expedition party waiting near Ifrien's back gate was thrown into confusion.
Seeing Rishir arrive with a horde of Ifrien guards in tow, they feared some issue had arisen—
"...So, all those are your escorts, not watchers?"
"That's how it turned out."
"What did you do in this short time?"
"Oh, nothing much."
"Nothing much..."
The nearby Ash Order members muttered in exasperation.
Stopping a demonic sword and destroying its true body was "nothing much."
That level of humility was deceptive.
"Hm. Truly nothing much."
"!?"
But the elf—Karoer's follow-up.
The Ash Order members nearly retorted without thinking.
If that's nothing, then what is something!?
"I was worried you'd become Ifrien's god or something, that Great Ash. That would disrupt the expedition."
"..."
"Hm? What is it, you lot. Do you have business with me on Ifrien's behalf?"
After scrutinizing Karoer for a while, the Ash Order members cautiously asked Rishir.
Hero sir.
Is that elf's head okay?
Suddenly talking about you becoming Ifrien's god—
Whispers.
"..."
The World Tree's guardian felt wronged.
"Ahem. So, Rishir. Does that mean our expedition party's 'debt' to Ifrien is settled?"
Karoer said to Rishir.
Loud enough for the Ash Order behind to hear.
A perceptive Ash Order member stepped forward.
"Sir Rishir can leave Ifrien right now if he wishes."
"Right now... Surprising. And a bit disconcerting."
Karoer gazed at the distant expedition party.
The sun, high when passing the castle gates, now painted the sunset.
Thus, the party had begun early camp preparations.
Assuming Rishir would stay in Ifrien for days, they figured to set up and wait—
Soon, Karoer said.
"Rishir. We're fine, so finish your business in the city and join us later."
"Pardon? But—"
"You're just uncomfortable being treated like VIP alone in the city, so you wanted us along."
"Ha, haha— thank you for thinking of me as so affectionate."
"No need to worry. To be frank now, us elves prefer camping in the fields over staying in human cities anyway."
"Ah... Then I'll wrap up the remaining matters and join you promptly."
"Remaining matters?"
"Yes. It seems I can't just leave the armor— the demonic sword's true body— here."
"Ah."
After a brief ponder.
Karoer spoke with a faint smile.
"Then next time we meet, you'll be a proper knight, I suppose?"
The scabbard of the demonic sword.
That dark armor, even with its core power destroyed, still emanated ominous energy.
Even Yeokcheon, who inspected any weapon with interest, wouldn't dare glance at it—
In the end, the dark armor lay abandoned at the site where the scabbard had been subdued.
Before treating it as spoils, everyone agreed it needed proper assessment first.
Rishir first tried consulting the demonic swords.
"Excuse me? Everyone?"
-...
-...
-...
Perhaps affected by the scabbard's destruction.
They slumbered, greatly weakened.
He considered rousing them forcibly for a moment—
"...No, let's let them 'rest for now.'"
Worried it might harm future 'specific uses,' he sought other options.
And so, in Ifrien's evening.
Rishir met the individuals the Ash Order had connected him with.
They said—
They were Ifrien's top blacksmiths, figures even great nobles couldn't easily meet.
'Like chefs at a restaurant you need to reserve a year in advance.'
That was why Rishir was quite surprised upon meeting them.
'Kids?'
Expecting a wizened elder like Master Meltas or Palrag, given Ifrien's city of fire—
But no.
A pair of fresh-faced figures appeared.
They looked on the cusp between child and adult.
Like young men compressed smaller?
Yes.
Dwarves.
Despite the polite invitation.
Practically dragged by the Ash Order's insistent request, the dwarves' faces were full of displeasure.
Rishir apologized first.
"Sorry for calling you so late—"
"Forget it. If you were truly sorry, you wouldn't have called us."
"No, no. If truly sorry, you'd at least explain what it's about."
"Hey! It's some huge matter we can't disclose outside! And we have to hear it to know!?"
"No! I know that! It's probably some bigwig who did something massive for the city, and they want us to cough up gear for them! You think I'm saying this 'cause I don't get it!?"
Bickering, they approached irritably.
"Show us your usual gear."
"My gear?"
"Yeah. Whatever you've got, we'll give you something better."
"But—"
"Argh! Just show us already!?"
Rishir reluctantly fetched the swords stored in his room and laid them out.
Ego Sword(?)
One holy sword and three demonic swords.
"..."
"..."
The dwarves' heated expressions softened.