Seventh Holy Sword Prison (2)

—Prison.

In ordinary usage, the word refers to a correctional facility built to isolate criminals. In other words, a place for locking people away.

So what, then, do you call a space designed to lock away objects?

A museum, I figured, would be about right. The part where once you go in, you don't get out easily—that much, at least, was the same.

"So from now on… I'm the warden of this place?"

Ironically enough, the official name of the museum I'd walked into was the Holy Sword Prison.

The Seventh Holy Sword Prison.

I had apparently been appointed the new warden of this enormous facility. Full administrative authority over a place packed with holy swords of every kind had been handed to me wholesale.

"How the hell did I end up as a warden?"

Granted, I was grateful that someone had found a new job for an E-rank hunter whose party had just fallen apart. Even if the position paid exactly zero and came with nothing but responsibility.

What I really wanted to know was why the authority had been given to me in the first place. Nobody hands that kind of power to an outsider for no reason.

"……"

A few possibilities drifted through my brooding mind. Maybe no one else had found this place. Or maybe the job required a hunter with no traits or skills. The kind of guesses anyone could make.

"At this point, fretting over the reason is pretty ridiculous, isn't it."

I let out a long sigh and lifted my head. The sound of it spread through the silent museum.

Thirty minutes since I'd arrived at the Seventh Holy Sword Prison. Alone in an empty museum, every one of those worries had started to feel pointless.

"……"

Figuring out the reason wasn't going to improve my situation. Better to spend the time on something useful.

After a long stretch of thinking, I arrived at a single conclusion.

"For now… maybe I should check out the holy swords and clear my head."

Survey the contents of the museum, then work out an escape plan. That, I decided, would actually help the journey ahead. Looking at the holy swords here had even given me a spark of hope.

"Holy swords are naturally strong against the undead. If I can use them right, I might be able to get out of this dungeon."

It was common knowledge that unclean things like banshees and skeletons were weak to holy swords. The banshee that had been chasing me had given up the moment it saw the Holy Sword Prison—that alone said enough. Maybe I could use the swords here to break out of the dungeon. And once I was out, selling them off for a fortune wouldn't be a bad option either.

"……"

So I started moving, ready to inspect the holy swords on display.

Thud. Thud.

My footsteps echoed through the empty museum. Walking alone through a place this vast almost felt like I'd rented the whole building. If I hadn't been stranded, I might even have enjoyed it.

"Is this an actual holy sword?"

Before long I came face-to-face with one of the exhibits. A massive glass barrier stretched from floor to ceiling, sealing off a space of maybe eight pyeong. Beyond it rested a single sword, faintly steeped in blue light.

"Sell just one of these and you could loaf around for the rest of your life."

I studied the elegant holy sword through the glass. A smooth, pure-white blade. Wing ornaments of convenience covering the crossguard. A hilt studded with brilliant jewels. A beauty that would steal anyone's eye.

"Yeah… it really does look like something worthy of being called a holy sword."

Admiration slipped out of me unbidden. A fine blade, more than fit for the hand of a man named Seol Yuhyeon.

I stood there staring for a moment—then a system chime rang out, and information on the holy sword appeared before my eyes.

I slowly read through the translucent text floating in front of me.

The sword's name was Holy Sword of Banishing Evil: Justitia (EX). An EX-rank hunter weapon. The kind of blade that, sold once, would set you up for life.

"……What's Erosion Progress supposed to mean?"

One of the entries, though, was strange. Erosion Progress: 57%. An ominous line that had no business being attached to a holy sword. Holy sword and erosion—two words that should never have met.

"Still… as long as I can use it, it shouldn't matter."

I decided not to put too much weight on the "Erosion Progress" line. Instead, I quietly reached toward the glass barrier, wondering if I could open it and take the sword out.

As if answering that hope, a translucent message appeared.

The management system was asking if I wanted to take the holy sword out. Naturally, I hit YES and tried to export Holy Sword of Banishing Evil: Justitia (EX).

And I failed. Reason: insufficient energy in the Holy Sword Prison management system. A problem I had no idea how to fix.

"I'm the warden and I can't even take a sword out?"

Cold sweat prickled down my back. Forget getting rich selling holy swords—I couldn't even use a single one properly. I had a bad feeling I was going to be stuck here a while.

On the off chance, I checked another holy sword nearby.

"Honestly, taking just one shouldn't be a big deal, right?"

With the mindset of a museum director committing embezzlement, I reached for it. Same result as before.

Dormant holy swords cannot be exported. That was the system's only answer.

"Are you serious… I can't take a single one?"

At this rate, even if export became possible, selling them might not be. In an instant I'd become the owner of a mountain of bound equipment, and I had no idea what to do with any of it. Absurd thoughts spun endlessly through my head.

"……"

As I mulled things over, the bag I'd left outside the Holy Sword Prison suddenly crossed my mind. Not far from the entrance—the bag I'd dropped while running from the banshee should still be there. And it had a few mana crystals and some food in it.

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"I'm starting to get pretty hungry."

Growl.

Thinking about the bag made my stomach complain. Come to think of it, it had been a while since lunch. I peeked out and checked the surroundings of the Holy Sword Prison.

"No banshee in sight. Did it actually back off?"

While I'd been browsing holy swords, had the banshee given up and withdrawn? Only a couple of skeletons were left nearby. Compared to the banshee rampaging moments ago, it looked almost safe.

"Hmm……"

Skeletons slower than a human, wandering around. Watching them, a sudden impulse rose. I wanted the supplies in that bag.

"Skeletons are slower than me. If I go fast, I can grab it and get back, right?"

The last spark of adventure left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in Seol Yuhyeon's chest caught fire. I can do this. If it's me. Clear conviction sent me bolting for the outside. Trusting myself, I made the call.

"……Alright. Let's go for it."

Time to reclaim the bag I'd left outside.

To cut to the result: the gamble of dodging skeletons to grab the bag paid off. I successfully recovered the bag I'd dropped because of the banshee and made it back. I'd nearly been spotted by a banshee passing nearby on the way, but securing food I could eat for a while made the risk more than worth it.

"Ha… were chocolate bars always this good?"

I chewed a chocolate bar from the bag and stared blankly around the museum. The white walls stretching in every direction felt somehow cold. Stranded in the middle of a dungeon, the cramped little apartment I'd always found so stifling suddenly seemed desperately dear. What was so great about an empty studio that I missed it this much? It had to be the sense of safety you could only feel there.

"……"

Crunch. Crunch.

Eating the chocolate bar without much energy and thinking about my apartment, sleep suddenly crashed over me. The fatigue I'd been holding back with combat tension hit all at once. A yawn slipped out around the chocolate.

"……Maybe I should just sleep for a bit."

I'd been wandering around looking for a way out, then gotten hurt running from the banshee. Of course I was exhausted. The chocolate bar had taken the edge off my hunger, so I figured I might as well rest.

I laid my backpack under my head and stretched out on the floor.

"Ugh, too bright."

But lying down, the lit ceiling was painfully annoying. Could I not even turn the lights off?

The moment I thought it, a translucent window appeared.

Fortunately, the Holy Sword Prison management system was fairly accommodating. Since I was about to sleep anyway, I chose YES without hesitation. Lights off, then rest.

The moment every light in the Holy Sword Prison went dark—

"Alright, time to slee—AAAAH!"

I took a direct hit to the eyes from the radiance of holy swords blazing through the dark.

Fwaaaash—!

In the darkened prison, countless holy swords began pouring out brilliant light of every color.

"Turning the lights off doesn't make it dark at all!"

Radiance of every hue shining from every direction. Looking at it, I realized killing the lights had been completely pointless.

"……Just turn them back on."

In the end, what I chose was dumping everything out of the backpack and using the empty bag to cover my eyes. Emergency rations and mana crystals spilled and rolled across the floor. I left them where they fell, set the empty backpack over my face, and tried to sleep.

"……"

Please, let the monsters all be gone by morning. Holding that small wish in my chest, I closed my eyes.

How many hours had I slept under that backpack? With the distinct feeling that I hadn't gotten nearly enough rest, I felt my submerged consciousness rising back up.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

A violent noise hammering at my ears. An aggressive, nerve-grating sound had dragged me out of sleep.

"……What now."

I pressed the backpack still covering my face and grumbled. What possible noise could there be in a prison that only held holy swords? I hoped the sound was a hallucination. That it would just settle down on its own.

"……"

That wish went unanswered. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. The strange noise only grew louder. Judging further sleep impossible, I finally snapped, flung the backpack aside, and sat up.

"Where the hell is that sound coming from?"

I rubbed my bleary eyes and stood. The spot where I'd dumped the backpack was bare—every mana crystal that had been rolling on the floor was gone. And nearby, one of the glass barriers holding a holy sword was vibrating violently.

"……"

I stared past the glass, face full of questions. Before long I found the source of the noise.

Inside the isolation cell of about eight pyeong, a sword was flying around like mad, slamming into the walls.

— "Let me out."

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

A holy sword steeped in blue light careening in every direction, hammering the thick glass wall without rest. A sight that made me wonder if I was dreaming. Not something any sane person should have to face.

And the sword didn't stop there—it only flew faster.

— "Let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Let me out."

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Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The holy sword pounding the glass barrier in a frantic rhythm. I watched, dazed, for a moment—then Fwaash! The sword locked onto me and erupted in brilliant light.

"……Wait, what the—!"

Light so intense it hurt the eyes. The holy sword, blazing with it, accelerated straight at me—on a trajectory that looked ready to punch through the glass and run me through. I threw my arms up on reflex to block.

KRAAAANG—!

The solid glass barrier shuddered, and a fierce impact boomed through my ears.

"……"

Had the glass actually stopped the holy sword's attack? Holding a faint hope, I lowered the arms that had been shielding my face—and found myself staring at an absurd scene.

Beyond the glass barrier, a girl had her face pressed flat against it, one cheek squashed, staring right at me.

"Let me ooout—."

The vanished holy sword. The girl who had appeared in its place. Those two facts meant only one thing.

"……So that's why it's called a Holy Sword Prison."

This place was, without a doubt, a prison.

A facility for locking up living holy swords and keeping them under control—the Seventh Holy Sword Prison.

A prison of the mortal world, built to bind holy swords that possessed egos of their own.