Chapter 222: Golden Treasury (3)
Chapter 222: Golden Treasury (3)
“I cannot understand. I simply cannot accept this.”
Leon Caravan.
The man who introduced himself by that name spoke, his voice cold and biting.
“If you were going to choose something so insignificant, why did you treat me that way? If you were going to make such a wrong choice in the end, why did you cast your children aside so ruthlessly?”
Leon Caravan’s voice was like a blade.
A razor-sharp edge.
“Where has the strict standard of Steel vanished to?”
He snapped his fingers.
With a sharp click, the sound of metal clashing rang out. It was the screech of metal grinding against metal, like heavy chains being dragged across stone. In the next moment, my body floated into the air as if seized by an invisible hand.
“Answer me, Last Caravan.”
Leon Caravan.
I was forced to look directly into his eyes.
I felt an immeasurable hatred radiating from him.
And a profound sense of futility.
“…I do not know.”
In the face of his overwhelming presence, I forced my mouth open.
“I do not know why an insignificant descendant like me was chosen. However, one thing is certain. No other Caravan pleased him as much as I did. No other Caravan possessed a heart as tempered as mine.”
“Does a creature like you truly think it understands our hardness?”
“I do not. But do you? Do you know how I have lived?”
My face was reflected in Leon Caravan’s pitch-black pupils.
“You do not understand me either. Not in the slightest.”
“…”
“Ancient ancestor, I did not take up the sword to be understood by someone, to convince someone, or to be comforted. My sword exists solely to satisfy my own will. To set right this world that has gone astray.”
Soon, flames erupted from my body.
The Flame of Doubt.
The Mystery that dismantles all power.
However.
“Is that so?”
The flames were extinguished instantly.
Snuffed out by a far more powerful fire.
“Then why is your will smaller than mine?”
Leon Caravan’s soul.
From the depths of a soul that existed in the distant past, black flames bloomed. The pitch-black fire swallowed and drove out my own, quickly filling the entire golden space. Those flames burned vigorously, yet they weren't hot at all. Rather, they were bitingly cold—like ice in the shape of fire. A paradoxical flame.
“I took up the sword to be understood by a single person, to convince a single person, and to be comforted by a single person. If that is the case, your sword—which seeks to set the world right—should be harder and sharper than mine, which was forged for the sake of a mere individual.”
“…”
“But why is your sword, your flame, so small and weak?”
It was cold.
It felt as if my skin were freezing over.
The chill seeped into my very marrow, threatening to freeze my heart. As the terrible cold gnawed at my body, Leon Caravan leaned his face close to mine.
“Answer me.”
“…”
“If you cannot answer, you shall vanish here.”
*
Thump.
A heavy sound echoed.
“Hmm.”
The moment Sherizik took a step, the ground shook.
Ground Tremor. It was a Mystery she was born with—a shamanic power contained within the bloodline of Sherdic, the Star Guide. As long as her feet touched the ground, the earth was her ally.
“This is a tricky technique.”
Crack.
The ground beneath Sherpa Gold’s feet collapsed.
Sherpa Gold took a swift step back. Simultaneously, Sherizik stomped her foot. With a heavy thump, Sherpa Gold’s body was launched into the air. The earth had surged upward, tossing the eldest son of the Gold family into the sky. Sherpa Gold spun in mid-air and gripped his golden sword, bracing for the approaching Orc.
And then.
Sherizik appeared directly in front of Sherpa Gold at a speed bordering on teleportation.
Wings? No, this is different.
The earth beneath her feet was flowing like water. It was an application of Ground Tremor. On the ground, Sherizik could move faster than anyone, for the earth itself carried her.
The glaive lunged with speed exceeding all expectations.
A heavy strike. Sherpa Gold used his sword to fluidly deflect the glaive. Instead of a loud metallic clang, a soft skree echoed. In the next moment, the two weapons clashed again. With a sharp ting, the distance between them widened. Sherizik took a relaxed stance and spoke.
“Do I need to show you more?”
“I believe I need to see a bit more.”
“If you insist.”
Sherpa Gold focused on Sherizik’s movements. With a thump, the earth rumbled, and once again, the Orc charged at incredible speed. Where was the glaive?
It’s not in her hands.
Then where?
In that brief moment of distraction, a crack sounded as Sherizik’s kick landed squarely on Sherpa Gold’s chest. However, there was no damage. No matter how much monstrous strength an Orc boasted, they were powerless before his ‘Armor.’ It was the invincible realm that defended against all harm. Even an Orc Great Warrior could not break the Armor with bare hands. Thus, Sherpa Gold didn't pay much mind to the attack. He assumed she had simply struck out because she was a brutish Orc.
But.
“…!”
Sherpa Gold tried to swing his sword, but he couldn't move. No strength entered his body. Why? After a moment of panic, Sherpa Gold realized the reason. His soul had been separated from his body. Sherpa Gold’s soul had been knocked out of his physical form by that last strike, temporarily banished to the spiritual world. It was ‘Forced Banishment,’ a feat only high-ranking sorcerers could perform.
Forcing a soul out of the body of a Sword Expert who has manifested Armor? Not an Orc who spent their life dedicated to sorcery, but an Orc warrior…?
It was a level of combat ability that was hard to believe.
This kind of technique would work even against a Sword Expert. It bypassed the Armor to strike the essence of the soul. Peak physical specs, combined with peak shamanic ability and combat sense. Truly, she was the hero of the Armand Alliance. The Green War God who had elevated the status of the Orc race. That name was no empty title.
However.
“Not bad.”
Not bad. That was all it was.
“This is not enough, Orc Great Warrior.”
Soon, Sherpa Gold’s eyes flashed with a brilliant golden light.
Simultaneously, the world reflected in his eyes changed. Sherpa Gold slowly looked at Sherizik. On the body and weapon of the Orc Great Warrior, certain points began glowing in ‘gold.’
“The world has become even more chaotic now.”
Sherizik swung her glaive.
Sherpa Gold swung his sword in a short arc, parrying the weapon. After the parry, he thrust his blade into one of the golden glowing spots. Immediately, Sherizik’s glaive shattered with a loud crack. It broke into a thousand pieces.
“An era far harsher than the one when you were a hero has arrived.”
Sherizik furrowed her brows.
Sherpa Gold flapped his wings once to close the distance and tripped her. As Sherizik’s body was tossed into the air, Sherpa Gold used the back of his blade to strike every single golden glowing spot on the Orc Great Warrior’s body. A ragged breath escaped her, and blood sprayed out.
The Eyes of Greed.
It was the great Authority of the golden bloodline. The power to see through an opponent’s weaknesses. And if there were no weaknesses, it was the power to make whatever the golden bloodline looked at become a weakness. This simple yet powerful technique was the foundation of the Gold family’s swordsmanship.
“This level of strength cannot stop the era.”
Sherpa Gold pulled a gold coin from his robe.
With a ting, he flipped the coin into the air. As the spinning coin fell to the floor, a massive amount of golden mana poured out from Sherpa Gold’s second heart.
“You cannot even stop me, can you?”
Golden Land.
It was an Authority possessed by all descendants of Gold. It was the power to accumulate a portion of one’s mana over time and release it explosively at a desired moment—a concept similar to a deposit in the Red Bank. Excluding the Matriarch of the Gold family, when Sherpa Gold—the strongest swordsman among the current Gold bloodline—used Golden Land, there were very few people on the continent who could stop him.
“Orc Great Warrior, Sherizik. Among the Great Five Families, Gold possesses the most gold, but we have the weakest sword.”
“…”
“The second son who inherited the Wave Sword of the now-fallen Rhapsody family could defeat me within five exchanges. The Watcher of White, the Sword Expert who inherited Winter, could defeat me within three. And the other two families—especially the successor of Sky, the shield that protects the Sky Empire—are even more powerful. You cannot stop the flow of the era.”
Sherpa Gold looked at the Orc Great Warrior.
Sherizik was certainly powerful. However, when the ‘true powerhouses’ of the continent emerged, this Orc would never be able to protect the Caravan territory. Sherpa Gold was certain of it. He had felt it since the moment the fleet of the Black Archipelago had collapsed. The war had already begun. Chaos would set the world ablaze.
And within that burning world, Sherpa Gold wanted to protect the last traces left by his youngest brother. He wanted to take responsibility for the people who remembered him. As an older brother, as family, and as the rightful successor of Gold.
But.
“So…”
“…You are a kind man.”
Sherizik merely laughed it off.
“But your help is not needed.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am not the only one who wishes to protect this land left by the Descendant of Steel.”
“…?”
“Someone who is not quite as beautiful as I am, but beautiful enough. Someone with a talent so peerless that even I, Sherizik, have rarely seen its like among the many geniuses I’ve encountered. A companion from the distant Eastern Land, who shares the same dream as the Descendant of Steel and is more than qualified to stand by his side.”
Sherpa Gold did not understand her words.
A brief silence followed. Sherizik grinned.
“In a new era, new people will rise to face it.”
At that moment, a chill ran down Sherpa Gold’s spine. An aura honed like a razor was radiating from far away. Sherpa Gold quickly turned his head toward the entrance of the Caravan territory.
At the entrance of the desolate land stood a woman in peculiar attire. She had black hair and black eyes, a rare sight in these lands. She wore pitch-black, flowing clothes made of fabric that Eastern dancers might wear. This woman, who did not belong in the West, was watching Sherpa Gold. She held a long, slender sword.
“Who… are you?”
Seol-yoon.
She had returned.
*
“Stop this, Ancestor.”
A terrible cold. A chill that felt as if it were freezing my very soul.
As Leon Caravan’s power constricted me, the voices of other ancestors rang out. Those voices were familiar to me.
“What sin has this child committed?”
“This child is also a victim.”
“As ancestors, we must embrace him.”
The three souls I had met in the Small Land of Swords were protecting me.
But Leon Caravan was adamant.
“He is the one chosen by the First Caravan.”
“…”
“If he has decided to inherit his sword, can we not consider that he has turned his back on all of us? Why should I accept this boy as my descendant? This loathsome brat?”
He spoke with venom.
“Last Caravan, you trivial child. Did you think your ancestors would gladly step forward to help you once you reached the Golden Treasury? Did you think we would hand our souls over to you and beg you to survive? Foolish child, that will not happen.”
“…”
“From the moment you accepted the First Caravan, you and we cannot be together.”
“…Why is that?”
At my question, Leon Caravan snorted.
“You accepted ‘The Maverick’ without even knowing the reason?”
“Because that sword could achieve my goal.”
“Then, are you saying you would do anything as long as you could achieve your goal?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Ha. Once again, a mocking laugh escaped him.
“Are you saying you can discard honor and nobility alike?”
“What meaning do honor and nobility have in the face of helplessness and loss? Ancestor, even if the entire world regards me as a dishonorable being and treats me as the most vulgar creature, I will have my revenge. Even if I must turn the entire world into my enemy, I must resolve this unbearable doubt.”
“You resemble him. My damn father.”
Leon Caravan’s eyes glowed with a dark light.
“Is this why he chose you?”
“…”
“Yes. He chose you because you resemble him in this loathsome way. The more we speak, the more I see it. Your appearance, your innate talent, the sword you hold—nothing is alike, but your soul is chillingly similar to my father’s. That image of him not caring what was bent or broken, or if the world collapsed and shattered, as long as it served his own purpose! You resemble it to a maddening degree!”
Leon Caravan’s voice grew louder.
“What did you expect when you came to the Golden Treasury?”
“I expected more power.”
“Yes, there is power here. But listen well. Contained here is a truth that a wretch like you cannot handle. The Age of Iron, the process of how the Age of Iron collapsed, the atrocities committed by the First Caravan, and the reason why we were forgotten and vanished.”
Step. Step.
Leon Caravan walked right up to my face.
“Trivial child.”
“…”
“What do you think lies at the end of the path you walk?”
From between his parched lips, a voice like scraping metal leaked out.
“The one who inherits The Maverick is destined to be left alone. For that sword is a power that only manifests its true strength when it exists in solitude.”
“…”
“The one who holds that blade can be with no one. Do you know what this means? It means that even Liam Caravan, my father, who chatters away by your side, must one day part from you.”
One day, we must part. What did that mean?
The answer came immediately.
“For the one who holds The Maverick to transcend, they must break Liam Caravan.”
“…”
“If they cannot break him, the successor vanishes. The successor’s soul is bound to the Land of Swords, and the soul of Liam Caravan takes over that body to descend upon the world once more. This is the truth of The Maverick.”
Leon Caravan continued.
“That blade is a cursed sword.”