Chapter 98
Chapter 98
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Lament's Sword
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*Cough, cough!*
"Why......"
"Why kill you? Heh heh! You're curious, aren't you? Yes, yes. I suppose I should tell you. It's only proper! Why wouldn't it be? Hahaha!!"
He didn't look sane at first glance.
No, he'd known from the start that the man wasn't normal. But he hadn't expected him to be this deranged.
'A miscalculation.'
To think he'd be this insane.
He'd at least assumed the man had some boundaries he wouldn't cross.
His motionless body was paralyzed, just as the madman said, unable to twitch.
The pain was somewhat dulled as a result, but blood kept surging out in gushes.
Amid it all, the madman's soliloquy seeped into the count's ears.
"I've thought about it for quite some time. The rank of a sword is determined by the realm of soul and flesh. So why do some swords spew fire while others cleave shadows?"
After much deliberation, he'd reached one conclusion.
"What decides it is the powerful lingering desire in life."
Lingering desire.
An earnest wish.
The mental state at the moment of death greatly influences a sword's abilities.
That was Gide's conclusion.
"Among the kingdom's five masters, the sword with the fire demon is the one we all know—the Illusion Sword. Do you know how it came to be?"
"I know."
It was a famous tale.
The Flame Witch. Karina's sword.
The birth story of the Fire Demon—Kara—was even turned into a fairy tale.
"It's said the Fire Demon's sister fought for half a day engulfed in flames, her body burning, all to save her elder sister. What a grand origin story, isn't it!!"
Thus, Gide had tried to imitate it many times.
But those forced to burn and fight after submitting to him possessed far too feeble ranks.
In short, they were too weak.
"So, I decided to make you the final sacrifice. You understand, don't you?"
Valentin Count was retired now, but in his youth, he'd been a fairly formidable knight.
Gide figured his flesh might be weak, but his soul remained strong.
"What... are you talking about?"
"Trala."
"!!"
"A clever child. With just a little teaching from me, he saw through the essence of things. If he grows up like this, he'll achieve great things."
But that future greatness lay beneath Gide's feet—the count's son.
"They say he's a precious son to you, Count."
No need to set him ablaze deliberately.
His sword was best forged by nurturing the grudge of the dead in his own way.
"What do you plan to do to my son!! Touch a single hair on his head, and I'll twist off your limbs and chew them!!"
The dignified count losing his composure at the mention of his son.
Parental love for one's child was equally profound in beasts and men alike, and Gide found it most satisfying.
"Kekekek!! With you in that state? Calm down and listen."
"......"
"I've decided to season the final sacrifice's desire with the spice of sacrifice. If you're mixing and boiling corpses, you must blend the seasonings that determine the flavor properly, no?"
"You're mad... Truly mad!"
Seasonings! Flavor!
Was that even something a human should say!
"Kekeke!! It's only natural in a world where forging a sword from a father's corpse is filial impiety. It'd be stranger not to go mad."
Gide chuckled before chattering on proudly, as if explaining a prized possession.
"Sacrifice is noble. A father dying in place of his son—what could be more poignant and fine?"
"You bastard...!"
"A life that would die of old age anyway. If used so nobly, what more could one want? If I mix in the spice of sacrifice to my cauldron, what splendid sword might emerge! Aren't you curious?"
In the end, he meant to kill both him and his son. Valentin Count bit his lip until blood welled.
"I won't let you have your way."
"You're so curious...... What ability will the sword have? Aren't you curious, Count?"
Glare as he might at Gide's giggling eyes, the count spoke.
"The current county is garrisoned by many nobles and knights."
"Hm?"
"The Southern Golden Lion Knights and Arbiter Kallias are there too. Kill me, and you'll die as well."
With the count and his son vanishing simultaneously, would the kingdom stay idle?
"A sword? Even if you make one, you'll be caught and killed soon enough. Even if you do make one from me, it won't be anything special."
"......"
As talk turned to swords, Gide's expression hardened coldly.
"The best your life can produce is nothing. A holy sword? Hahaha! Ridiculous!"
"For someone paralyzed, your tongue wags freely."
Was his side less paralyzed......?
Perhaps it was because he was a count—good with words, or something.
"It's not too late. Release me. For his sake, I won't kill you."
"If I'd valued my life, I wouldn't have been expelled from the church."
"You damn bastard. Did your mother teach you that? Or your father? Ah, neither, I suppose. You were an orphan, weren't you?"
At the sudden jab at his parents, Gide's face darkened coldly.
"I'm changing my mind. I've been waffling lately...... But cold might be better than hot. There are plenty of burning grudge spirits already. Please hold onto that rage until death. Then I'll cherish your name forever."
"I won't beg for my life. Whether like this or that, I'll die cursing your parents. I hope even those who abandoned you had some affection, you damn lunatic."
From Gide's coldly twisted expression flowed a bizarre laugh.
Stab!
"Urk...!"
Lifting the count as he hardened with cold, Gide grinned.
"Please don't lose that spirit."
Rumble.
Above the bubbling molten furnace.
Gide gripped the count's neck.
Slowly.
Ever so slowly, he dropped him.
* * *
-Found it.
It took longer than expected.
Well hidden—dawn already.
"Where."
-The prayer room.
The prayer room.
To build something like that in the prayer room basement.
Dozens passed through daily, yet he'd made it there.
Now that he knew the location, all that remained was to go and seize the bastard.
However......
"Why are you here?"
"Seemed like quite the amusing scheme. Thought I'd join in."
Trala's forge held the Golden Lion as well. He'd barged in suddenly, asking to be included.
"Not particularly amusing."
"It will be if I join."
Nosy bastard.
But it didn't matter much.
It might delay killing the count, but Gide was the priority now, not him.
Priorities had shifted.
The Golden Lion would help rather than hinder, as long as he was useful.
'Best to strike before he finishes the sword, if possible.'
No telling what sword he'd make, but grinding a hundred knights wouldn't yield an ordinary blade.
"But will grinding a hundred knights really produce a great sword?"
He'd heard everything from outside.
The Golden Lion's face was quite serious.
He'd nonchalantly asked to join, but hearing from outside had enraged him.
I calmly addressed the Golden Lion's curiosity.
"From ancient times, excess is worth less than scarcity. It may wield great power, but it won't be easy to handle."
"What do you mean?"
Excess always has flaws somewhere.
"It might induce something like the prince's madness."
"I see...."
At mention of the prince, the Golden Lion's expression hardened slightly.
Carpe's Mad Dragon Sword.
No one could ignore how the prince wielding it had turned beastly.
"Madness or possession, the result is the same—loss of sanity. Let's go before a possessed freak emerges."
"Trala."
"Yes!"
"Guide us to the prayer room."
"Understood."
The Golden Lion and I followed Trala to the prayer room.
En route, I ordered soldiers we met to guard the place tightly.
I had Orkal wait outside for any contingencies.
Another interloper would just be a hassle.
"Here. This is suspicious."
Sweeping aside a carpet in one corner revealed faint seams.
Trala fumbled until something clicked, and a handle popped out with a pop!
Grabbing and pulling it.
Rumble.
The door began to open.
"Ugh, this thing!"
The door looked thick and heavy.
As Trala's face reddened, I clicked my tongue, and the Golden Lion helped.
Rumble rumble thud!
"Hah! Pant! I didn't know it'd be this heavy."
"You need more training. How will you grow like this?"
"It's because I lack sleep."
As I was about to retort that it was a lame excuse, a scorching blast poured from the gap.
Chilly at dawn, yet the prayer room heated up instantly.
He'd put real effort into building a forge underground.
No heat felt before opening, but now this hot wind assaulted us.
"Trala, you should stay here."
"But......"
"The Golden Lion and I are enough."
He understood it as "don't hinder," nodding silently.
I nodded to the Golden Lion toward the basement and led the way down.
The deeper we went, the more a foul stench stabbed our noses and eerie sounds whispered in our ears.
Like wind, or clashing swords.
But realizing it was hammering, I slowly gripped my sword.
The hammering intensified.
Like fierce waves crashing against cliffs, shattering wildly.
Our steps quickened as a result.
Our cautious descent turned into a rush.
And just as we arrived.
"Ahh........."
A cracked elder's sigh escaped.
From the vast forge's center, dazzling holy power light spread.
"One step too late."
The sword was complete.
"Huaaahhh........."
A deep sigh.
Or perhaps a moan of ecstasy.
The white-haired elder's mouth split in satisfaction.
Sinister ghostly light flickered in his eyes.
"Tch."
The Golden Lion clutched his ears and staggered.
No need to ask why.
Multicolored wails from the sword pierced the ears painfully.
Rending shrieks and screams of agony battered the body.
Narrowing my eyes, I gazed at the quest window before me.
「Lament」
-A sword forged from a hundred knights. Diverse souls mingle not, screaming in torment. Slay Gide, bereft of sanity by the grudge spirits.
[Reward: Rare Constitution Draw.]
Accepting the quest instantly.
The elder's neck twisted grotesquely.
He aimed his sword at Kallias and the Golden Lion.
Craaaaaack!!
Pure white energy erupted from the sword in all directions.
"Tch!"
Bone-chilling cold.
In an instant, the forge—and the Golden Lion and I—froze solid.
Even the blazing furnace cooled.
Immense cold.