Chapter 229: Match (3)
Chapter 229: Match (3)
“The great bloodlines are dead? All of them?”
High within the azure peaks of the Sky Mountain Range.
Beyond the blue sky, in the nest where the Great Ones crouched, a heavy silence was broken.
“Charlotte. Those noble ones lost their lives, lured by the enticement of that young watcher.”
“It wasn’t just them. The masters of the sky who were meant to shoulder the future—the dragons who should have soared to even higher heights—were crushed before they could even bloom.”
The Land of Dragons.
An ominous current flowed through that sacred place.
“The Last Caravan. The final remaining bloodline of Steel is repeating the sins of the past.”
“...Those young dragons touched something they should never have touched.”
Led by the dragon Charlotte, those seized by youthful fervor had ventured into the outside world. However, many still remained in the Land of Dragons: younglings too small to leave, and old dragons trapped in the distant past, unable to move on. In this land where only the extremes remained—the middle generation having been wiped out—complaints continued to echo.
“If we leave things as they are, will history repeat itself?”
“Who knows? In the past, we were foolish and committed an unforgivable sin against the bloodline of Steel. But the young dragons are not there yet. They still have a chance.”
“Then...”
“If only to prevent the distant past from repeating, we must step forward.”
The old dragons muttered, lying listlessly upon the ground.
Their voices were weak and drained of strength, but if the creatures of the outside world saw them, none would dare use the word ‘old.’ Dragons were beings that existed outside the flow of time. Ancient Dragons were not merely aged; they were primordial. For a dragon, time was not something to be feared, but the fertilizer for growth. At this moment, the most powerful beings on the continent were turning their attention to the affairs of the world below.
“It would be better to venture outside for a moment—just a brief moment.”
These were beings that could erase a kingdom and incinerate an empire with a single flap of their wings. They were the very ones who had inaugurated the ‘Dinosaur Era’ in the annals of lost history. True dragons who had existed since the Mythical Era, whose greatness was immeasurable. They muttered in weary, gravelly voices.
Watching their discussion, one of the young dragons—a small creature who had lost a portion of its heart—grew stiff with tension. Dragon Aion, the small dragon contracted to Arhan Caravan, thought to himself in a panic:
What on earth—what on earth are you doing?!
Please. I just want to live a long life!
* * *
Everyone in the Dwarf Kingdom is a dwarf.
Living in this lowly kingdom of the depths, the dwarves utilized their peerless skills to begin restoring their destroyed home in an instant. The ruined kingdom began to regain its form, and the dwarves held funerals in the manner of the goddess they served. Grand flames cremated the corpses of the fallen, and their souls soon returned to the goddess’s side.
Amidst the pouring sunlight, I stood before General Dwight and the Dwarf King, Jerome Stone, who had narrowly escaped with his life.
“Descendant of Steel, you have saved the dwarves.”
“No, I have also received much.”
“You did not receive it from us,” the King corrected. “You merely took back what your ancestor left behind. Therefore, we have not repaid even a fraction of the grace you have bestowed upon us.”
The Dwarf King gripped my hand tightly. His face looked as if he were on the verge of tears.
“A statue of the Caravan shall be erected in the Dwarf Kingdom. It is a monument we have been unable to raise for a long time, ever since our history was forgotten. We will raise your statue, and a statue resembling the First Steel that once stood at the entrance of the Golden Treasury—larger than any other monument in our realm.”
“...”
“Descendant of Steel, will you continue to protect our kingdom?”
The grip of Jerome Stone tightened. He seemed desperate.
It was understandable. From the perspective of a monarch who had witnessed the terrifying strength of the dragons and my own power firsthand, he would want to keep me here. I didn't fail to understand his desperation. However, I could not be tied down.
“Your Highness, that cannot be,” Dwight interjected. It seemed the General knew the truth as well. “The Descendant of Steel has a task left to resolve.”
“A task?”
“The Descendant of Steel shall walk the Path of Transcendence.”
Dwight knew my goal: Swordmaster Carlos.
“And the reconstruction and protection of the Dwarf Kingdom must be achieved solely by the dwarves,” Dwight continued. “My own desire to stand by the Descendant of Steel is as high as a steel chimney, but I know better than anyone that the bloodline of Steel cannot be bound to one place.”
“...”
“Arhan Caravan, Descendant of Steel. Go the way you must go.”
Dwight’s gaze was resolute. Hearing his words, Jerome Stone smiled with a mix of regret and relief. Then, he gently took my hand again.
“O Descendant of Steel.”
“Yes.”
“You are the benefactor of the Dwarf Kingdom,” Jerome Stone’s eyes sparkled. “The Dwarf Kingdom will soon regain its original form. Since we have repelled the dragons, we will now prepare for the coming chaos. Our steel walls will become sturdier, and our flames and steel will become harder and stronger. So that we may survive.”
“...”
“And the lowest kingdom will always stand by your side.”
Dwight also nodded.
“In this chaotic age, one of the seven races created by the Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses... the lowest dwarves of the continent, every single one of us, shall be on the side of Steel. Forever.”
Support. I had received the explicit support of the Dwarf King. I met his burning gaze; anyone could tell he was sincere.
However...
“...Could you perhaps make an oath?” I had to make things certain. “Not in the name of the gods, but in the name of the Land of Swords.”
* * *
「Persistent fellow.」
The Dwarf Kingdom was being rebuilt rapidly.
Having secured a firm oath, I couldn't stay forever. I recovered from my injuries and received several useful pieces of equipment from the dwarves. About ten days passed in this manner. Preparation always requires sufficient time.
Most of the equipment I received were consumables. Since I had forged the Immortal Armor, I couldn't use any armaments other than Gaia’s Sword, and I hadn't been able to bring anything out of the 「Golden Treasury」 as the price for taking Leon Caravan’s blade.
What I received from the dwarves were ‘treasures.’
Items imbued with mysterious power, similar to the treasures Zeppelin Gold had possessed. I received a total of three. A treasure that allowed free teleportation a set number of times to any pre-designated location on the continent, a magic-resistant shield, and a subspace pouch to store items.
I didn't receive anything like the incredible treasure possessed by the second Great Warrior of the Crusader Order, which could resist death itself. Then again, those were closer to divine objects kept by the Order. Most treasures of such overwhelming power were held by the ‘Machine Empire,’ the ‘Black Archipelago,’ or the ‘Armand Alliance.’
Still, there was nothing to be disappointed about. I had received quite valuable things here.
“Descendant of Steel.”
As I finished my preparations to leave, Jerome Stone spoke to me one last time.
“I do not know where you will go, or where you will head in this chaotic world. But it will not be an easy path.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure you do. But it may be even more difficult than you realize.”
Harder than I realize? What did that mean? Did Jerome Stone know something?
“Descendant of Steel. Your family, the Caravan, whose name was renowned across the entire continent, vanished from history in an instant, as if burned away. So thoroughly that no one could find a trace.”
“...”
“The erasure of history. Those who carried out that thorough erasure are beings with a malice deeper than you can imagine. I do not know the details myself, but I do know that the same command was issued to the kings of every nation on the continent at the time. Erase everything related to the Caravan, wipe away every trace of Steel, erase those who know of Steel from the world...”
‘Erase.’ Jerome Stone used that specific expression.
“At the time, the Caravan’s power had weakened, but their name was still great. Among them, there were forces that remembered the glory of the Caravan and still supported Steel. Therefore, there were those who tried to resist their erasure.”
“...”
“And to all such people, the same individual paid a visit.”
“The same individual...?”
“The Eraser.”
The Eraser.
“He appeared in various countries and cities across the continent, repeating the same words as he excised everything related to the Caravan. My ancestor said he spoke like this:”
“...”
“‘This country must be erased. This city must be erased.’”
The words flowing from Jerome Stone’s mouth were a sentence all too familiar to me.
‘This estate must be erased.’
Swordmaster Carlos. The words that bastard had spoken as he took everything from me.
“You must be careful, Descendant of Steel. That individual is powerful enough to destroy a nation alone, and he has a backing so immense that no one can restrain him.”
“...”
“Perhaps it was inevitable.”
I didn't need to hear the rest to know. Steel had many enemies. Because the First Steel had left behind so many enemies before departing.
“My ancestor called the ‘Eraser’ by another name.”
“...”
“The Sky Sword.”
The Sky Sword. It was another name for Carlos that I also knew. However...
“And ‘Sky Sword’ has been a title referring to a single existence since ancient times. A name known only to a tiny fraction of beings on the continent. A name known only to those chosen by the Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses, or to the chieftains, kings, and emperors who stood at the pinnacle of a nation or race.”
“...Do you know about the Sky Sword?”
“I know only a very small part of his identity.”
For the first time, a real ‘clue’ had emerged. I asked, my eyes wide with focus.
“...Can you tell me?”
“In the distant past, the Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses were wary of the Caravan’s existence. The Great Ones felt they too needed a very powerful blade. Thus, they selected the most brilliant talent of each era and bestowed all sorts of blessings upon them so they could become a Swordmaster. Furthermore, just as the descendants of Khan are, they made them so they could be both a Swordmaster and a Proxy Warrior of God. A Proxy Warrior for all Seven Chief Gods and all Nine Goddesses combined. The ‘Sky Sword’ is a Swordmaster and a Proxy Warrior who has received the power of all sixteen gods.”
“...”
“But even so, in the distant past, it is said the Sky Swords could not rival the ‘Caravan.’ The Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses concluded that the reason lay in the limitations of the race.”
“...”
“So, they decided that concentrating the most brilliant blessings and power into the most powerful race was the way to oppose the ‘bloodline of Steel.’”
The most powerful race. There was only one race that could claim such a title.
“The Sky Sword is the Master of the Sky,” Jerome Stone said. “A Dragon.”
The Sky Sword was a dragon. That meant one thing.
“The Sky Sword is the Proxy Warrior of all gods, the most powerful Swordmaster, and a dragon born of the strongest bloodline among the seven races. That is the identity of the most powerful judge created by the Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses to root out ‘Steel’ from the world.”
Swordmaster Carlos was a dragon.
“There is much more hidden about the Sky Sword. Descendant of Steel, I have no intention of blocking the path you walk. However, you must know in more detail how powerful and unreasonable an existence your enemy is.”
“...”
“For the Sky Sword is an existence that gathers all the unreasonableness of the world.”
That was Jerome Stone’s final warning. After hearing those words, I left the Dwarf Kingdom. Toward the wider world.
* * *
“We’ve arrived, Carlos.”
The Northern Continent. The end of the world. The land where beings of primal violence—the monsters—were imprisoned.
Looking at the Fortress of Darkness built in the center of the land frozen by eternal winter, Ian Chervil muttered in an indifferent tone. Atop the fortress were demons clad in pitch-black clothes. One of the Five Families, beings who shouldered the duty of watchers alongside the White family. As Ian Chervil scanned them, the sky shook. Carlos watched the trembling sky and slowly raised his sword.
“Who has come to visit?”
“Traces of the old era.”
The moment Carlos raised his sword, the sky split in half. From the rift, something plummeted to the ground. It was a dragon. A very, very large dragon. The creature crashed into the earth immediately upon appearing, and the moment Carlos swung his sword once more, it was forced to bow its head low by the authority of the most powerful Swordmaster.
“Ca... r... los Sky.”
“...”
“O Half-Dragon... who shoulders... the sa... cred duty.”
Carlos looked down at the dragon with eyes as cold as ice. Eyes like pieces of iron, devoid of any emotion.
“Why... have you fallen... like this?”
“...”
“You... have a duty. Quickly... perform... the sacred duty. And... save... your kin... who are dying... in pain. That... is the reason... you were born. That is...”
Listening to the dragon’s words, Carlos gently closed his eyes.
The dragon continued. “Please... Sky Sword...”
Carlos listened no further.
“I discarded that name long ago.”
“Sky—”
“A very long time ago.”
The moment Carlos finished speaking, countless lines were drawn across the dragon’s body. Following those lines, the dragon’s form was carved into pieces and scattered. Without even sparing a glance at the dragon dissolving into dust, Carlos simply walked forward. Ian Chervil watched his executioner, laughed joyfully for a moment, and then spoke.
“Go.”
The executioner did as his master commanded.
The Fortress of Darkness. A single Swordmaster walked toward the front of the demon stronghold that had maintained order throughout a long history. When Carlos reached the fortress gates, the Nobles of the Night blocked his path.
“Who are you?”
“State your—”
Amidst the pouring of noble voices, Carlos merely drew his sword calmly. Instead of a conventional answer, he silently uttered the response he had always given.
“This fortress must be erased.”
“...”
“Is there anyone here who has not yet reached eighteen?”
Politely. With words that signaled the end of all things.