The Forge of the Single Fire (4)

Shhh.

At the guardian deity's words, everyone's eyes turned toward me.

Arwen, Adelia, Heukgol, and Pokryong. Everyone held their breath, waiting for my answer.

Only then did they seem to realize a late truth.

They had assumed only Adelia would face the trial... but I, too, had never once challenged the Forge of the Single Fire.

"..."

"..."

Flinch.

Pokryong and Heukgol startled simultaneously. Their gazes snapped to the sword hanging at my waist.

"What? The Feather Sword? Then that's the one from the rumors..."

"Wait, someone actually uses that bizarre sword?"

As mentioned before, the Feather Sword was a weapon shunned by most swordsmen.

The complete inability to utilize the sword's weight acted as a fatal flaw. Basic techniques like a weighted downward strike or a rotational slash using centrifugal force were impossible to execute.

Of course...

...For me, it's a penalty that borders on a blessing.

For someone like me who didn't rely on the weight of a blade, the Feather Sword's characteristics were a perfect fit.

Above all, I was the only one who knew the "true value" of this divine relic.

"..."

The guardian deity stared intently at me as he asked.

I answered his question without a single moment of hesitation.

"I have no intention of turning down an opportunity."

Cackle.

The guardian deity let out a low chuckle.

Rumble!

The heat of the forge grew even more intense.

I walked down toward the circular arena, and Adelia, who was inside, quickly stepped out.

"Um, excuse me..."

Adelia stopped in her tracks and tentatively raised her hand.

"Then, if Sir Gaon passes the trial, will he have two swords...?"

"..."

How should I put it?

It was a question so typical of Adelia. To be curious about something like that in a situation like this.

A chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it.

Hearing her, Pokryong and Heukgol chimed in one after the other.

"Dual wielding, huh? Seeing that guy swing two swords would be quite a sight."

"Tsk, and here I am, dying of jealousy because I don't even have one divine relic..."

However, the guardian deity chuckled softly and dismissed their assumptions.

"..."

The guardian deity continued.

Perfect.

That was exactly the answer I wanted. Since I already possessed the Feather Sword, another weapon was unnecessary.

And above all...

...The divine relic I want has already been decided.

The auction in the dark city of Dawnguard, the Lashutku Ruins, Jacques's trial, and so on.

The countless events that would unfold in the future. To navigate through all of them, what I needed was not another weapon.

Therefore, what I had to do now was to present a challenge that aligned with that purpose.

It was when I stepped into the circular arena.

Along with the guardian deity's declaration, countless silhouettes rose before my eyes.

Whoosh.

The exact same situation I had encountered in the game. Translucent figures lined up in the air, depicting the challengers who had passed the trial throughout history.

They were all familiar faces.

Major characters who would appear in the later stages of the game, and even the Sword Masters I would meet soon.

A faint smirk played on my lips as I confirmed this.

Even this moment of choosing an opponent...

...offered plenty of room to exploit.

Rustle.

Standing in the center of the arena, Gaon slowly closed his eyes. He looked as if he were lost in deep contemplation.

"Hmm..."

Heukgol muttered, crossing his arms.

"...Why is he hesitating like that? If he's confident in his skills, shouldn't he just pick the strongest opponent?"

Snort.

Pokryong scoffed at his words.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"That's why you failed the trial, you idiot."

"...What?"

"Most of those who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠challenge the Forge of the Single Fire are individuals who have reached the absolute peak. At that level, there is no such thing as 'absolute strength.'"

"..."

"It's a matter of compatibility. An opponent who is troublesome for me might be easy prey for someone else."

Indeed.

While there might be relative advantages, there was no absolute strongest. If so... who among the past challengers would Gaon choose as his opponent?

...It would be fun if he just picked me.

It was the moment Pokryong smiled with that thought.

Slide.

Right then, Gaon slowly opened his eyes and spoke.

"I will choose the same opponent Adelia did."

"Tsk."

Pokryong clicked his tongue in disappointment. Pean again. How boring. He had expected Gaon to make a more unique choice.

However...

"?"

Time passed, but nothing happened.

"What's going on?"

Pokryong wasn't the only one who sensed something was off. Heukgol, Arwen, and Adelia looked up at the guardian deity with bewildered expressions.

Earlier, Pean's clone had materialized the instant the opponent was chosen. Why was it different for Gaon?

At that moment, everyone witnessed it. A look of perplexity crossed the guardian deity's face—an expression entirely unbefitting a being who had watched over this place for eternity.

Breaking the heavy silence, the guardian deity spoke.

"..."

The guardian deity trailed off momentarily, looking as if he were struggling to find the words to explain the situation.

"...?"

"...?"

*Freeze.*

At that shocking declaration, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the expressions of those watching from outside the arena stiffened in unison.

Yet Gaon merely nodded calmly, looking as though he had anticipated all of this.

"In that case," he said, "I will choose the opponent who would be the most troublesome to face."

The guardian deity's silence stretched even longer. And finally, the answer he gave was...

"..."

"..."

"..."

The entire forge fell into a dead silence.

Heukgol's jawbone dropped open with a clack.

Pokryong wore a bewildered expression, while Arwen and Adelia could only stare blankly at Gaon, completely lost for words.

No one among the past victors could teach Gaon, and not even a troublesome opponent existed?

That meant...

...Doesn't that mean Gaon is overwhelmingly stronger than anyone else?

*Whisper, whisper.*

Watching the reactions outside the arena, I smiled inwardly with satisfaction. The shock-ridden expressions, the faces frozen in sheer astonishment—it was exactly the reaction I wanted.

In truth, there really wasn't any opponent who was troublesome or difficult for me.

The very concept of compatibility was meaningless in the first place. After all, no matter who came, everything would end in a single strike of Soul of the Sword Master.

But there was no way the others would know that.

To those who were ignorant of the true nature of my authority, this situation would look like nothing less than proof that I was the strongest challenger in history.

This kind of build-up is essential.

Being recognized as a powerhouse by key figures, and not being underestimated. That would be the key to smoothly resolving future events.

Anyway.

Having finished my thoughts, I declared calmly, "Then I choose Pokryong."

"Bwahaha!"

As soon as the declaration left my mouth, Pokryong's boisterous laughter echoed from afar. He seemed absolutely thrilled to have been chosen.

...I wonder if he'll still be laughing like that after my trial is over.

With that thought, a faint smile played on my lips.

Rumble!

Just like during Adelia's trial, molten metal began to flow from the arena floor. However, the volume this time was overwhelmingly greater.

It was a spectacular sight as the clone took shape, each individual scale being etched onto its massive, muscular frame.

Soon, a half-human, half-dragon bearing a belligerent smirk glared at me with beastly eyes.

*Shring!*

Pokryong's clone drew its weapon. It was a massive greatsword that closely resembled the Pokyeomdo.

I stared at it, lost in thought.

The condition to pass the trial is simple.

All I had to do was put on a fight that pleased the Master of Flame and Blacksmiths. However, because the criteria were so diverse, no one had ever been able to clearly define the conditions.

The core is the combat style.

The Master of Flame and Blacksmiths had to clearly grasp the challenger's way of fighting. Only then could he forge a divine relic tailored to those characteristics.

A style that pushed forward with overwhelming firepower like Pokryong. A style that utilized thoroughly calculated swordsmanship like Pean. Or a style that fought while constantly growing like Adelia.

One had to display a flawless, perfect battle that befitted the direction they pursued.

That was exactly why Heukgol failed.

At the time of his challenge, he wasn't a Death Knight yet. He still feared death.

Consequently, he had no choice but to adopt a survival-oriented swordsmanship that adapted to the situation—in other words, a combat style without a clear color. And with such an ambiguous style, passing the trial was impossible.

Then...

What style could I show right now? Overwhelming talent in swordsmanship, intuitive responsiveness, insight to pierce the opponent's weaknesses, and so on. I had countless weapons at my disposal. But among them...

The most certain one.

The essence of my swordsmanship. The core that remained after stripping away all the flashiness.

Slide.

I slowly placed my hand on the hilt of the Feather Sword.

One Strike Kill.

Ending everything with a single strike of the sword. That was my essence, and at the same time, the style that the Master of Flame and Blacksmiths could recognize most clearly.

Boom!

The heat of the arena flared even hotter. Pokryong's clone slowly began to move.

But I did not move. I simply stood there.

Once is enough.

No matter who the opponent was, what technique they used, or how strong they were. I only needed a single opportunity. That was the path I had walked so far, and the path I would continue to walk.

The message the Elders had sent before I fell into this world. They had already recognized me. They had marveled at my talent and blessed my path.

The salvation of the world. That was the sole reason I was dragged here, and the reason they bestowed this authority upon me.

If so...

...There is no room for doubt.

A battle that ends with a single strike of the sword. That would be the most perfect "proof," the one that the Master of Flame and Blacksmiths could admire in its purest form.

The crystallization of overwhelming talent. The essence that remained after stripping away all technique and flashiness.

So, once again. They would look at my sword and shudder.

Tring!