Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Pilgrim of the Sword
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"Three years."
I quickened my steps, pulling my hood tight against the downpour that fell like the tears of the gods.
Three years.
It had already been that long since I started living in this place.
A short time, if short. A long time, if long.
But one thing I could say for certain.
Those three years had not left me with happy memories alone.
"For Valterus!!"
"For the god Lactus!"
A honed blade makes death, and death piles corpses into mountains.
And those corpses, we turn back into.
Swords.
Three years ago, I.
Became a pilgrim in that brutal world.
* * *
-Caw! Caw!
Flutter!
A crow, sensing my presence, flew off while tearing into the flesh of a corpse.
The once green meadow was stained red with blood and left desolate in the aftermath of war.
A barren sight beyond description.
Yet atop it, the corpses formed mountains, and starving beasts along with humans no different from them glared at each other while scavenging for their own gain.
"Hey, hey. Look over there. It's a pilgrim."
"For real. The sword rosary around his neck and the stigmata on the back of his hand... Yeah, a real pilgrim."
Unlike the wild beasts devouring the corpses to fill their bellies.
The gray pupils reflected the sight of children come to pick through valuables.
"...A pilgrim of the sword."
He wore a pure white hood flipped back, revealing pitch-black hair that caught the eye. The sharp gray eyes visible through the gaps seemed something beyond an ordinary human.
The necklace around his neck was a rosary of swords.
On the back of his hand was a sword-shaped stigmata from the god.
Those dressed in such garb often appeared on battlefields.
Devotees of Valterus.
Pilgrims who wander the lands at the god's call, seeking swords.
Or.
"Crazy sword freaks."
One of the children rummaging through corpses snatched up a stone and hurled it.
It flew in a long arc but fell harmlessly at the pilgrim's feet, thrown with a child's weak strength.
"Get lost, you sword ghost!"
Famine and poverty from the war pass down violence. Eyes full of resentment, needing someone to blame just to survive, turned toward the pilgrim.
Their faces twisted in anger, frowning as if beholding something repulsive, but their hesitant legs were gripped by fear.
The pilgrim's impassive gray eyes pierced right through them. The children flinched.
"This war started because of you crazy bastards who turned the young lady into a sword!!"
"Y-yeah, that's right! Get out!"
"It's all because of you!"
Devotees who worship only the sword and Valterus.
To them, there was just one thing.
The authority and miracle of the god.
"No corpses for the likes of you!!"
"Get lost!!"
Drawing out the warmthless flesh and soul to forge a sword.
That was the god.
The sole authority granted by Valterus.
The miracle called Corpse Sword. Also known as Carcass Sword.
Pilgrims of the sword.
Priests who perform the god's miracle of turning the dead into swords.
That was a pilgrim of the sword.
"You turned people into swords and caused all this mess!"
The god's miracle discriminates fiercely against people, so the sword's power varies depending on who it was made from.
Thus, it was common to secretly kill those with great potential and turn them into swords. If neighbors vanished without a trace, people hushed it up, saying it was a pilgrim's doing...
Those who had heard of the pilgrims' ill repute or lost family to them did not look kindly on those who wielded the god's miracle.
Rather, they.
"Devil spawn!!"
Called them devils and scorned them.
To call devotees of the god devils—what greater insult could there be.
Yet the pilgrim, as if accustomed to their abuse, offered no reply and simply went on his way.
The children glared at his back, which seemed hardly human, before resuming their search through the mountain of corpses.
That was when it happened.
Neigh!!
The rough pounding of hooves shook the ground.
"Great pilgrim of the god Valterus! Hold your path for a moment!"
The knight at the vanguard halted the pilgrim's steps with a booming voice.
"Whoa, whoa."
The knight, who had already approached the pilgrim, spoke in a lofty manner without even dismounting.
"Son of great Valterus who has entered the domain of Lutens. In the name of Queldal de Lutens, tyrant of the western reaches, I extend an invitation to the lord's castle."
The pilgrim's eyes turned to the knights.
Their armored gear was of high quality, and fresh from victory in battle, their morale pierced the heavens.
As if I had no choice but to obey.
The pilgrim's eyes narrowed coldly. His parched lips parted.
"Only the god Valterus may block a pilgrim's path. Begone."
A clear refusal.
The knights, as if expecting it, immediately drew their swords.
Shing!
"We need a pilgrim."
"Not a pilgrim, but the god's miracle."
"Indeed. The lord wishes you to turn all these corpses here into swords."
"You're thinking of starting another war even after all this killing? Madmen."
Taking someone's life also breeds new grudges.
'Blood calls for more blood.'
A new war would be part of that.
The pilgrim shook his head.
"Regrettable, but we are desperate as well. We will not take no for an answer."
Preparing for war consumes vast sums.
To cover those costs.
The lord sought to capture a pilgrim passing through his domain.
To turn the mountain of corpses piled high into swords with Valterus's miracle!
With a pilgrim, it was possible.
"You're inviting heavenly punishment. Have no fear of the god's wrath?"
"To us, the enemy before our eyes comes before the god's wrath."
The pilgrim's mouth shut.
The prestige of the god worshipped by a kingdom on the road to ruin had long fallen to the earth.
As he gazed silently, the vanguard knight poured out words unasked.
"Of course, we shall treat you with utmost respect. With war at our doorstep, it will be modest, but we shall do our best. Worn from your long pilgrimage? Rest your body awhile before departing—it wouldn't be so bad."
"Does a pilgrim's divine power seem infinite? Best to leave now."
As the pilgrim stepped forward.
Plop.
Ting, ting! Clang.
An iron helmet tumbled down from the mountain of corpses.
"Who's there!"
"Thieves about?"
The knight's icy glare pierced a young child hiding among the corpses.
"Eek!"
It was one of the children who had spat insults full of contempt at the pilgrim. Overwhelmed by the knight's presence, he couldn't even flee.
"The spoils here belong to Lutens. Pay for your theft with your life."
The knight swiftly nocked an arrow and loosed it.
The arrow sliced through the wind and struck the child's heart dead center.
He died without a scream, his eyes reaching the pilgrim.
A futile death.
Yet no emotion showed in the pilgrim's eyes.
Children die, elders die.
Just a matter of sooner or later.
As he calmly turned away.
The pilgrim's eyes changed.
From the dead child's body shimmered a silver light only he could recognize.
"Pilgrim..."
The knight who had loosed the arrow turned his gaze back.
But the pilgrim was gone.
Where had he gone? He was already beside the child, whose warmth was fading.
As the knights moved to act.
The one who seemed their captain raised a hand to stop them.
"It's the god's miracle."
Whoosh.
Silver light-dust flowed from the dead child's body. Gathering at the pilgrim's fingertips, the light soon took form and shape.
A double-edged sword.
But unlike ordinary swords.
The blade's edge gleamed with a sharp, eerie blue light.
The knights knew.
That thing emitting such keen blue energy was Valterus's miracle.
The one authority he granted.
The Corpse Sword!
The knights' eyes sharpened at the sight of the miracle's light.
"With that miracle alone."
If they could arm their soldiers with Corpse Swords, said to surpass those forged of steel, victory in the war was assured. Greed filled the knights' eyes.
"Pilgrim,"
But even as they called to him, the pilgrim gave no answer.
He merely gazed intently at the sword still emitting a faint glow.
And when that light faded.
The pilgrim spoke.
"Obvious grudge."
The knight's brow furrowed.
Grudge? What grudge?
The urge to ask rose to his throat, but he couldn't.
And right then.
Swoosh. With a faint whisper of wind, the pilgrim vanished.
"What!"
The surprise was fleeting.
"Uh..."
The knight's gaze spun.
He saw his own body, saw his horse, then slammed into the ground.
"Gah!"
"Captain!"
The knight captain's head had been severed.
Startled knights and neighing horses filled the air with chaos.
"Avenge the captain!"
"Seize the pilgrim!"
Ching-!
The pilgrim's sword swung.
His Corpse Sword snapped the knight's blade in an instant and tore through the iron armor.
An overwhelming difference in weapons.
The pilgrim sneered.
A moment later.
Drip, drip.
Only the blood drops trailing from the pilgrim's Corpse Sword quieted the barren plain.
Whoosh.
Silver light leaked from the sword in the pilgrim's grasp. Soon, the sword's form scattered like ash and vanished.
The pilgrim released the fading sword as if nothing had happened and walked on silently.
Light seeped into the stigmata on the back of his hand, symbolizing his role as Valterus's pilgrim.
[Cent's Grudge]
[Strength +1]
A faint smile flickered across the pilgrim's lips, then vanished.