Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Tyrant Sword - Karakto
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The enemy's flesh crumbled into ashes, scattering piece by piece before rising into the air.
The drifting fragments of its body shone with a vast silver light, condensing into a single form.
‘Feels good.’
The purity of the divine power contained within.
Even the storm-like momentum swirling around it.
Despite the intense glare stinging his eyes, Kallias couldn’t tear his gaze away for even a moment, his bangs whipping in the fierce gusts.
Over the three days spent in the holy site, he had gathered its divine power whenever he had a chance, infusing it into the warlord’s flesh.
That was why the transformation into a carcass sword was so spectacular.
The sword floated, radiating intense light.
Kallias seized the blade enveloped in a cluster of silver light in midair without hesitation.
Snap.
As he grasped it, the silver divine power fluttered away like butterflies and vanished, revealing an elegant sword.
A straight blade.
Not as long as a reinforced divine sword, though.
A double-edged sword, yet sized perfectly for one-handed use.
Its weight and grip felt just right.
A well-balanced longsword.
The refined crossguard bore crude but charming engravings.
“Worth looking forward to.”
A subtle red tint gleamed along the blade.
A slightly murky red.
Disappointing in a way, as the warlord’s sword was spirit grade.
Yet its flame-like, exotic patterns were exquisitely intricate.
The more ornate the patterns on the blade, the higher its rank.
「Tyrant’s Sword - Karakto」
Grade - Spirit
Dwelling Soul - Karakto
Unique Ability - Gravity.
Its descriptor was Tyrant.
And its unique ability was gravity!!
“Gravity on a spirit sword, of all things.”
A broad grin spread across Kallias’s face.
“Tyrant’s Sword, huh. Let’s see if its power lives up to the grandiose name.”
Like an excited child, Kallias bolted out of the holy site in one leap, then stood still, gripping the sword.
He sliced his palm with the Tyrant’s Sword - Karakto, letting a few drops of blood fall.
-Grrrrowl.
Abyss scavengers began to gather. Red eyes emerged one by one from the darkness, their viscous saliva dripping at the scent of blood.
“Rugaru.”
Nameless beasts.
Just a few drops of blood, and they swarmed in droves.
Likely because Vivi’s Bracelet masked Kallias’s presence.
Normally, they wouldn’t dare approach his aura, but here they came charging.
The so-called cleaners of the abyss.
‘Ten, twenty, thirty.’
Over forty surged in at once.
He’d usually frown at the hassle, but not now.
Perfect test subjects for the sword’s performance.
“Come.”
Silver divine power soon enveloped his body.
The moment the Tyrant’s Sword flashed.
Boom!!
The space around him collapsed downward.
* * *
Step, step.
“You’re back, my lord.”
“Yeah.”
Brans tilted his head at Kallias’s expression as he emerged from the Sinking Forest, then followed along.
“Something good happened?”
“Yeah. Something great.”
Brans was surprised anew at Kallias’s grin, the corner of his mouth curling up.
Kallias rarely showed such joy, so he was curious what it could be.
“What is it? You said you were going to the bottom of the Sinking Forest... Don’t tell me you’ve got a secret lover hidden there?”
“Brans.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Why are you still alive?”
“Suddenly saying that, I don’t know what to...”
“You survived the war somehow.”
“It’s all thanks to your teachings and the dagger you gave me.”
He still had it.
Kallias had casually tossed him a dagger after killing some orcs, but it shone like new, well-cared for.
“You’re better suited to fisticuffs than swords.”
“Heh heh, back in my youth, this fist of mine? It even felled beautiful ladies.”
“Committed a sex crime?”
“N-no, my lord! I just beat up some punk who was getting on my nerves! And get this—he thanked me by throwing himself at me!”
“I was pretty dashing back then, even if I do say so. I told him he’d regret it, but he insisted.”
“......And?”
“Of course...... Heh heh heh.”
That lecherous laugh meant it was a story that’d just rot his ears.
‘Unlucky.’
Something felt off.
“Even so, compared to you, my lord, it’s nothing. You’ve got looks and prowess beyond compare. Man, if I were you, the women I’ve toppled would circle Jaybarshu Castle’s walls twice over.”
“Vulgar. Brans.”
Women.
Kallias briefly recalled old memories.
In this world, entanglements with women had never brought him anything good.
Kill or be killed.
When he first set out on his pilgrimage, plenty wanted him dead.
Men too, but women even more so.
Fitting for the church’s black sheep, the women of the church came at him grinding their teeth, out for blood over whatever he’d done.
Even quiet Esther had come to kill him.
‘Once, I nearly died from poison.’
She’d offered a meal; he refused but accepted bread. Nearly sent him to the afterlife.
Young and naive to the world’s cruelty, he’d have died without her passing aid.
‘Wonder what she’s up to now.’
Surrounded by women out to kill him.
The one who’d helped him.
“Heh heh. So, what’s the good news?”
“Want to know? You’ll regret it.”
“Will you cut me down?”
“No.”
“Then no regrets!”
Kallias drew his sword.
The Tyrant’s Sword - Karakto.
“Whoa! New sword? Even looking at it, the aura is... Gahk!”
Brans, reaching to touch it, crumpled to the ground.
“G-gra... v-grav... Hngh!!”
“Told you you’d regret it.”
Tyrant’s Sword - Karakto.
True to its gravity ability, it manipulated gravity within a ten-meter radius of Kallias.
‘Manipulation types are rare.’
Take Thunderclap Sword: it’s elemental.
But it doesn’t let you control lightning from the sky.
Manipulation swords are different.
If Tyrant’s Sword’s ability were lightning and manipulation-type, he could freely wield heavenly bolts.
‘Though a true thunder manipulation would limit it to stormy weather.’
Unlike elemental, manipulation can’t create; it only controls what exists.
Thus, gravity manipulation is exceptionally rare.
Gravity’s everywhere.
“Amazing sword!”
“But it has flaws.”
“Pardon? What?”
“It being spirit grade. That’s the flaw.”
Great sword.
But capped at spirit rank—that was fatal.
If it were divine, he wouldn’t call it a flaw.
“Spirit grade, yet its ability and type rival divine swords.”
Hence, limits on its powerful use.
Divine power consumption was massive, for starters.
Expected, and with the bracelet’s reserves, no big issue for occasional use.
The real problem?
“Gravity strength is weaker than expected.”
Narrow range? Fine. But weak intensity? Unacceptable.
“Weak?”
“Your body’s just a bit tougher than average. Real power would’ve killed you.”
“W-what?! You didn’t hold back out of fondness?!”
“......”
Brans reeled in shock.
Kallias ignored him.
“Explains the Tyrant name.”
Against peers, they’d chalk it up not to the sword.
‘Intimidation.’
Sheer overwhelming presence.
“But my lord.”
“What.”
“Why’d you look so pleased earlier?”
By the story so far, he shouldn’t be happy.
Harrowing effort to forge from the warlord’s body, only for mediocre power?
Rage would be natural.
Yet Kallias emerged from the forest beaming.
Brans had asked if something good happened.
“If that’s all it did, you’re right—I’d be pissed.”
Against the scavengers.
Initial use? Deep disappointment.
But swinging at those defying the gravity?
Pure ecstasy.
Tyrant’s Sword.
Incredibly, it manipulated the gravity of severed body parts.
Even minor cuts let Kallias toy with that part’s gravity.
Limits on intensity, sure.
‘In heated battle, a heavy arm or leg? Panic sets in.’
Panic in battle leads to death.
Not bad.
Very good.
Pair it with Flower Breaking Path?
White Mist?
Inflict scratches, and their body weighs multiples—heavier with each clash, tipping the scales.
“Want a demo?”
“N-no, I’m good!”
“No, you need to feel it to grasp this sword’s brilliance......”
As Kallias moved to nick Brans’s leg.
“M-my lord!! Someone’s there!”
Brans’s frantic shout made Kallias flinch, glaring at the figure in the tree shadows.
“Kallias. Long time no see?”
“Who are you.”
Shadows hid the face.
“Forgot me already? That hurts. You owe me, remember.”
“Owe you?”
His brow furrowed at “owe.” Then a small gasp.
“Ah.”
The woman stepped from the shadows, her hair gleaming red in the sun.
Like aged red wine.
Neat half-updo.
Light armor, twin swords crossed at her waist.
“Helena.”
“Here for my debt. Kallias.”
Pilgrim Helena.
Daughter of the Volibian family, who’d poured money and blade for Carpe to the bitter end.
Helena de Volibian.
Three years ago.
The fool who saved him and got fleeced—now back of her own accord.