Chapter 117
Chapter 117
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: Treasure (1)
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Molta led Demian toward the tower standing in the center of the workshop.
“This is a place only the artisans of the workshop can use. Even Holy Knights can't enter easily. You're probably the first outsider to set foot here.”
Cheongyeom pointed at the tower while explaining to Demian. Molta turned around and scolded him.
“Why are you following us again?”
“His Holiness asked me to keep watch so he doesn't do anything foolish.”
Molta grumbled in an unintelligible voice at Cheongyeom's words.
Molta led the two down to the basement of the tower.
The tower was tall above ground, but the basement was incredibly deep as well. They passed three levels before finally reaching the last one.
A massive door blocked the way.
Molta tapped various spots on the door with his whetstone hammer. The door slowly rose upward.
The moment Demian peered inside, he couldn't help but let out an exclamation of admiration.
The interior of the building was filled to the brim with weapons.
Swords, spears, axes, knuckles, and more. All sorts of weapons hung densely on the walls.
“It's truly impressive.”
Demian spoke with genuine sincerity.
Not a single one looked hastily made. He could tell immediately that they were crafted with the full might of master artisans.
“You don't need to give such obvious praise. It's a given.”
Even though someone had gone out of their way to compliment him, Molta's response was curt.
“Now, you go inside and wait to be chosen by a weapon.”
The wording was a bit odd. Demian looked at Molta and asked,
“I have to be chosen?”
“Your knights might not know this, but it's not just people choosing weapons. Weapons choose people too.”
Molta crossed his arms, clearly displeased by the fact.
“Especially spirit-grade holy swords—they're even more particular about it. If you're not chosen, you can't draw out their full power. You can't make them grow either.”
It sounded like he had already decided Demian wouldn't be chosen.
“How do you know if a holy sword has chosen you?”
“Go inside and walk around. You'll feel it. The holy sword will call out to you first.”
It was an incredibly vague and absurd method.
“If you don't feel anything and force yourself to take a sword, it won't work. I can tell.”
“What happens if I'm not chosen?”
“You can't take any sword out of here. That's why plenty of knights pass the Trial of Iron but still leave without a spirit-grade holy sword.”
Demian glanced at Cheongyeom. Since he wasn't stopping it, it didn't seem like a lie.
“Understood.”
Demian entered and scanned the weapons hanging on the walls one by one.
The weapons were made of various materials. Their colors differed as well.
‘They're not all the same after all.’
Spirit-grade holy swords grow stronger with each battle.
But that didn't mean every spirit-grade holy sword started and ended at the same point.
Their performance varied based on the metal used and the artisan's skill. Just like a snake's hatchling and a dragon's hatchling couldn't be equal.
Suddenly, Demian's steps halted.
A holy sword hanging in the center of the wall captured his gaze. It was an artistic blade with a sleek, pale green edge.
Demian picked up the holy sword experimentally. The hilt fit perfectly in his hand. The balance was flawless.
‘This is made of true silver.’
Thanks to his Weaponmaster realm and Universal Weapon Affinity, he recognized it immediately.
True silver, or moon silver.
It was one of the rare metals in this world, at the very top.
Certain substances disintegrated upon contact with it, and mixing even a little into a weapon turned it into a legendary blade—a sacred metal.
A spirit-grade holy sword made of true silver was undoubtedly the pinnacle.
Wuuung.
The sword hummed in satisfaction at being held by Demian.
‘This is the one.’
Demian felt a strong conviction and moved to take the sword.
At that moment, a holy sword hanging in a neglected corner caught his eye.
It looked utterly unremarkable at first glance. The blade's surface was bumpy and rough. The hilt was just some ordinary wood shoved in.
He wondered how anyone could make something so half-heartedly.
Yet Demian couldn't tear his eyes away from this sword.
Without realizing it, Demian reached out and stroked the blade. The blade trembled faintly.
Ziiing.
A clear ring echoed. Demian was instantly drawn into the sword's hum.
It was the first sword he'd heard make such a pure sound. In that fleeting moment, Demian was completely captivated by it.
Demian picked up the sword. The vibration grew slightly stronger.
Demian approached Molta with the sword in hand.
“Why didn't you bring the one you picked first?”
“That one was good too, but this one drew me more.”
“Foolish. The one you first chose was made of true silver. It was the best in this place.”
As Demian had discerned, the pale green holy sword was indeed made of true silver. Still, he felt no regret.
Ziiing.
The sword's hum struck right to his heart. He couldn't imagine any other.
“Even so, I'll take this one.”
“You mean it? You're really making that foolish choice?”
Demian nodded. Molta squeezed his eyes shut.
“Damn it... The one who finally recognizes this child's value is an outsider of all people.”
Molta took the sword from Demian with both hands and said,
“This sword's name is... Dawn. It was forged from meteor iron that fell from the night sky just before sunrise, hence the name.”
Meteor iron.
Iron obtained only from meteorites falling from the sky.
Even true silver and orichalcum, the rarest rare metals, paled in comparison.
“Not all meteor iron is superior metal. Their composition and properties differ. Some are worse than scrap iron.”
Molta stroked Dawn's blade. Unlike with Demian, no hum came.
“But the meteor iron used for Dawn was different. I've never seen such outstanding metal. Hardness, mana conductivity—everything was top-tier.”
Molta's voice trembled slightly with excitement as he spoke of the meteor iron. That alone showed how extraordinary it was.
“It was just as hard to refine. We poured every fuel in the workshop into the forge and still could barely heat it. That's why it ended up like this.”
That explained Dawn's unpolished appearance.
They hadn't melted it into a mold to cool. They'd forcibly heated it in the flames and hammered it into shape.
“No one has chosen this child until now. Not even the renowned Holy Knights recognized its true value.”
Molta muttered with a regretful expression.
“To think the owner of a sword made from meteorite would be an outsider. Is this what they call fate?”
Molta handed Dawn to Demian and said,
“Please take good care of Dawn.”
* * *
“I'll treasure it.”
Demian reached out to take Dawn again. But suddenly, Molta snatched it back.
He clutched Dawn tightly to his chest and burst into tears.
“Kuheheuk! To think I have to let our precious little Dawn go like this!”
Ziiing.
Molta bawled with snot and tears. As if sympathizing with his sorrow, Dawn let out a long hum.
“I remember when I first forged you! When I barely managed to shape you, I was over the moon!”
Ziiing.
Molta pulled a grimy handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his tears and blew his nose with it.
“Outsider! If you take our Dawn, you better take responsibility properly!”
Zing! Zing!
“Oil her three times a day—morning, noon, and night! And Dawn loves watching the sunrise, so wake up early at dawn!”
Zing! Ziing!
Dawn hummed in agreement with Molta's words. Demian looked at them with a dumbfounded expression.
“Oh, and absolutely no fooling around with other weapons! Got it? You must use only Dawn!”
Demian responded firmly to Molta's words.
“That won't work.”
“What?”
Zing?
Molta stared at Demian in shock. Dawn's blade trembled faintly too.
“I have no intention of using just one weapon... I already have another sword I'm using.”
“W-what are you saying! You'd use another weapon and abandon our Dawn? You philanderer!”
Ziiiiing!
Molta and Dawn protested vehemently.
“I can't give Dawn to a playboy like you! I'll take her back!”
Ziiing...
“What? You still want this guy? You, you brat! They say raising a daughter is pointless! You're exactly that!”
Demian looked at them with a weary face.
“I'm getting annoyed now, so just hand it over already.”
* * *
After receiving Dawn from Molta, Demian left the building with Cheongyeom.
Ziiing.
Dawn hummed contentedly in Demian's hand.
Demian eyed the sword with a somewhat disgusted look.
‘Should I swap it now?’
He seriously considered it for a moment. Cheongyeom spoke to him.
“The sun is already setting.”
Cheongyeom looked at the sky dyed in sunset hues and said,
“Oh, right, I haven't shown you to your lodgings yet. Follow me.”
The guest quarters Cheongyeom led him to were right nearby.
“This is for visiting ascetics from outside. We don't have separate guest lodgings, so this is the best we can do.”
The Holy Order's main headquarters forbade outsiders. Apparently, only places for ascetics were available.
“It's late today, so rest up. Tomorrow, I'll take you to the Vault.”
Demian's eyes flashed at the word "Vault."
He hadn't decided what to take yet, but it didn't matter. Whatever he chose would be the finest treasure.
“But you're escorting me personally, sir?”
“Yes. The Vault is too important a place—protocol requires a high-ranking priest to accompany you. Otherwise, the guarding golems will attack.”
The Order's golems were as renowned as their enchanted metallurgy.
“Then I'll come back around lunchtime tomorrow.”
Cheongyeom left after saying that.
Demian went to the VIP quarters, unpacked, and went to bed.
And the next day.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well last night?”
Demian faced not Cheongyeom, but Gwangmyeong.
* * *
Gwangmyeong, whom he met again, was still stunningly beautiful.
She went beyond mere beauty—there was something that seized the gaze.
Passing Holy Knights couldn't tear their eyes from her. Even though they must see her often in the headquarters.
But Demian merely scowled at her.
“Why are you here?”
“I volunteered since someone was needed to guide Sir Demian to the Vault.”
“Cheongyeom said he would handle it.”
“Cheongyeom had urgent business come up, so I'm filling in.”
As one of the Five Great Saints, it wasn't strange for Cheongyeom to have sudden duties.
But the partner was Gwangmyeong.
Gwangmyeong, lord of "Blinding Pain."
And Demian had thwarted "Blinding Pain's" plans in the Corpse Play Dungeon.
In other words, Gwangmyeong was practically Demian's enemy.
“Why the long face?”
Gwangmyeong tilted her head innocently.
But Demian, knowing her true nature, brushed it off lightly.
“It's nothing. Please guide me to the Vault.”
Her eyes widened slightly at the unexpected response.
‘Backing down here would hurt my pride.’
Even Gwangmyeong couldn't touch Demian within the headquarters.
Not with both Cheongyeom and the Holy Emperor's protection.
‘She probably doesn't intend to do anything anyway.’
Still, approaching this closely meant she had some agenda.
To uncover it, he had no choice but to go along.
“You're brave. This way, then.”
Gwangmyeong walked ahead and said,