Chapter 15
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: The Defiant Sword Spirit
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15.
Dris's face showed clear surprise as he watched.
Even though Eirana was approaching the age of an adult dragon, he had expected the divine sword before them to be too much for all but the strongest adult dragons to handle.
Yet it had turned so docile the moment she gripped it. To Dris, it was nothing short of astonishing.
Whether Dris marveled or not, Eirana's expression suddenly hardened as she inspected the sword closely from every angle.
She sensed a massive surge of mana roiling within the blade that had seemed so tame.
Eirana hurriedly tried to react, but the sword unleashed its power faster.
BOOM!
CRACK! CRASH! CLANG! CRACKLE!
The forge's interior was left in ruins by the explosively bursting energy.
Thanks to the power from the silver sword, the roaring flames of the smithy inside the forge snuffed out in an instant, and hoarfrost spread across the surroundings.
Dris, who had thrown himself flat on the ground to minimize the impact, cautiously raised his head.
The sword, which had been hovering above the anvil, slowly settled back down onto it.
Eirana, who had been holding the sword, had been hurled straight through the forge's wall.
Dris's face drained of color.
The energy the sword had just unleashed was far from weak.
He worried for Eirana's safety after taking a direct hit.
Dris rushed desperately out of the forge.
Outside, Eirana lay sprawled on the ground, her body covered in hoarfrost.
Unable to withstand the sword's shockwave, she had been flung away. Though she tried to minimize the damage, the impact sent her tumbling across the ground several times.
"Lady Eirana! Are you alright?!"
Dris hurried to Eirana, who lay motionless on the ground.
At his call, Eirana pushed herself up from the dirt.
Drip... Drip...
Her head must have split open while tumbling; blood trickled down.
Touching her face and noticing the wound, Eirana silently stared at the blood on her palm.
Her pupils had shifted to the feral eyes of a dragon, as if her draconic instincts had awakened to the danger.
Though her form was that of a beautiful human, her eyes were those of a savage dragon.
The incongruity created a mystical aura, but Dris couldn't just stand there gawking.
Seeing Eirana staring wordlessly at her own blood, Dris swallowed hard.
Hatchlings were absolute wards under dragon protection.
As such, they almost never saw their own blood in their lives.
Adult dragons on their first outings sometimes reacted excessively—precisely when they witnessed large amounts of their own blood firsthand.
Having gone centuries without seeing their own blood involuntarily, they were accustomed to others' but ignorant of their own.
For young dragons who hadn't lived long, bleeding from wounds inflicted by others was a considerable shock—and understandably so.
The same held true now.
If Eirana lost control and rampaged, the village would be thrown into utter chaos.
As Dris held his breath and watched her, Eirana lifted her head and licked the blood from her left palm.
Then she smiled.
"Look at this little shit."
To Dris's shock, Eirana was utterly calm.
As if she were perfectly used to seeing her own blood, she brushed off the dirt lightly and stood.
Her eyes gradually returned to human form.
Eirana checked her body's condition.
Pain throbbed from various spots, creaking joints.
She rubbed her neck lightly and narrowed her eyes.
If she hadn't quickly raised a shield and protective aura, that blow might have knocked her out cold.
Rather than anger, she felt a bit dazed.
'The blood's red, huh.'
A rather unique thought.
Eirana was newly surprised that her blood was red.
It was true she'd been startled, not having bled in nearly 500 years.
In her previous life, she'd nearly died multiple times, but she'd long forgotten those sensations.
That strike was the first real threat to her safety in this dragon lifetime.
Even with Erannis's violent parenting, it had never felt this alienating.
Was that why?
Eirana strongly sensed a switch flipping in her mind, for reasons unknown.
"Lady Eirana, are you alright?"
At Dris's worried question, Eirana looked at him quizzically and let out an "Ah."
"I'm fine. It's even more impressive than I thought."
Watching her say that, Dris spoke up.
"Lady Eirana, don't you think we should seal that sword?"
"Seal it?"
Eirana furrowed her brow.
As she gave him a what-are-you-talking-about look, Dris continued.
"It seems like it's still too much for you to handle."
It was purely out of concern for her well-being.
Looking at Dris, Eirana replied.
"Is this the blacksmith in you speaking?"
"Yes."
"I see."
Eirana flashed a pretty smile.
Then she glared toward the forge.
"Backing off without even properly trying isn't my style."
A fierce glint flashed in Eirana's eyes.
In that gaze, Dris glimpsed the shadow of someone who had lived a fierce, survival-driven life.
As Dris marveled once more, Eirana muttered.
"What's the point of a man retreating this easily."
She strode toward the forge.
Watching her back silently, Dris tilted his head.
"But Lady Eirana is a woman?"
Of course, Eirana didn't hear.
Entering the forge, Eirana crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.
Both swords still emanated ferocious energy.
The reason Eirana had first gripped the sword made from Elencanon's fang was that the dark sword from Rakan's fang had seemed more dangerous than the pale silver one.
The two swords' auras were evenly matched.
Yet Eirana's judgment stemmed from the 'instinct' honed in her previous life for sensing danger.
That recent attack had sharpened her instincts even further.
Eirana narrowed her eyes at the two swords.
At that moment, Dris cautiously entered the forge.
"Lady Eirana, what do you plan to do?"
"Hmm, what should I do?"
She'd stormed in on a surge of defiance, but had no real plan.
"Guess I have to force it to recognize me as its master."
With that, Eirana strode toward the anvil.
She wanted to try talking to the sword first, but it wouldn't be that easy.
So she'd create a situation where she could force a conversation.
Unlike before, Eirana activated the mana from her dragon heart as she approached.
As she reached for the sword again, it reacted the same way.
The blade tried to blast her away with a mana explosion, but Eirana's shield magic held.
Thud!
Crackle!
Cracks began forming on her spherical shield.
Yet Eirana gripped the sword without a care.
Crack! Boom!
The shield finally shattered, sending mana shards flying everywhere.
But unlike before, Eirana wasn't flung back.
She'd weighted her body with inner energy, preventing a repeat incident.
She winced slightly at the impact jolting her body, but her grimace soon twisted into a savage grin.
Eirana's silver hair began turning black.
A bizarre yet mystical mix of silver and black locks.
Her left eye dyed black as well.
Revealing her pent-up demonic qi, Eirana suppressed the sword's power outright.
'What in the world...!'
Dris's eyes bulged in shock.
A Silver Dragon emitting Black Dragon energy was astonishing enough, but Eirana's power clearly surpassed what a hatchling should possess.
It was on par with a formidable adult dragon.
As Dris reeled, Eirana, having crushed the sword's power, laughed.
The forge was already in ruins from her clash with the sword.
Eirana didn't blink at the destruction and slammed the sword against the anvil.
CLANG!
The irritable swing made the anvil ring loudly.
The sword spewed even more agitated energy in response.
Eirana's eyes narrowed sharply.
"Damn, you're feisty!"
She yelled irritably and smashed the sword into the anvil again.
Thud!
The anvil dented deeply.
The sword's energy faltered for a moment.
But Eirana, experienced from earlier, tensed up—this was just the prelude to a full tantrum.
Splurt!
Blood spurted from Eirana's hand gripping the sword.
Her eyes twitched at the sight.
The sword began radiating sharp sword ki in fury.
Eirana gripped harder.
With each squeeze, small cuts like blade slices multiplied on her hand, creeping up her arm to her shoulder.
Her clothes were soon sliced, blood seeping through.
Eirana's eyes trembled.
She raised the sword once more, channeling every ounce of inner energy into it, and smashed it down with full force.
CRACK!
The blade struck the anvil, cracking it.
Dris's eyes went wide.
The sword's energy surged wildly.
Gritting her teeth, Eirana glared at it murderously.
The rampaging energy suddenly subsided.
Eirana grimaced, forcing her disobedient hand open to release the sword.
This time, it didn't fall but floated in midair.
Stepping back, Eirana looked down at her left hand.
There was no sensation.
It had turned purple and swollen; her fingers wouldn't move.
Severe frostbite.
Eirana immediately cast a recovery spell.
As feeling returned, the unimaginable pain from her hand surged.
For an ice-affinity Silver Dragon, this level of frostbite was extraordinarily rare.
Suppressing the pain, Eirana glared at the sword.
As the standoff settled, Dris sneaked closer to the sword.
Moments later, the sword trembled faintly once.
Then it emitted a silver glow.
But it wasn't hostile.
The intensity had softened compared to before.
Of course, that didn't mean it acknowledged Eirana.
Both she and Dris knew the earlier commotion was mere posturing.
As the frostbite on her hand healed somewhat, Eirana crossed her arms and eyed the sword.
Then, a chill emanated from it.
Not cold enough to feel freezing, but its deliberate nature put Eirana on edge.
If the sword went berserk for real, the forge wouldn't just be a mess—it would collapse entirely.
Dris would get caught up too, but Eirana decided not to worry.
A dwarf elder was both a master artisan and a superb warrior.
He was contracted to top-tier fire and earth spirits, and a powerful mage wielding high-level spells.
He could handle himself without her concern.
As Eirana tensed, the faint light from the sword coalesced into one.
Just as she narrowed her eyes and gathered mana, the light began shaping into a human form.
Eventually, it transformed into the figure of a human boy in his early teens.
The boy, with pale silver eyes and hair, scratched his head irritably, stretched, and yawned lazily.
Eirana and Dris watched warily.
His first words were a spectacle.
"What the...? I was sleeping peacefully. What the hell is this?"