Chapter 18
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: Origin, Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel (1)
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After sending Wolf off, Kaisen wandered aimlessly through the gardens of the Papal Office. Wolf had left with these words.
- An instructor from the Hall of the Valiant Sword will come for you soon. Just wait here.
The Dragon God's garden was beautiful, bathed in a golden light.
Though it wasn't the season, peaches hung from the trees, their sweet fragrance filling the air and creating a dreamlike, hazy atmosphere.
Amidst this otherworldly scent, what caught Kaisen's eye was a golden statue gleaming in the distance.
The Dragon Sage, Rein Ludwig.
It stood fourteen meters tall, with a circumference of twenty-five meters.
The golden sage gazed down upon the three thousand worlds with an imposing dignity.
A long inscription was carved in bold letters on its pedestal.
He squinted at the inscription, but Kaisen couldn't read the Draconic tongue.
It was then that a strange voice read the Draconic words aloud.
“All that humanity ever wished from the gods, and all that the gods ever wished to bestow upon humanity, was mediated by this Dragon Sage, Rein Ludwig, and granted unto this land.”
Startled, Kaisen turned, and the first thing he saw was white hair.
And beneath it, golden eyes.
Her coppery skin suggested she was from the Adrion continent, but aside from that, her physical features were similar to Camilla's and Raminea's.
In short, she was a FakeWarrior.
“Do you know what this means?”
“…”
“It’s a promise. A promise that if you work diligently, you will surely reap your reward. A promise from the gods that no one will ever steal that reward from you.”
The unknown FakeWarrior scoffed as if it were all nonsense and shook her head.
“Kars Dragonia, Hals Dracus. Peace by the dragonkin. They say humanity lived enjoying that peace during the Golden Age. Rein Ludwig created the Silver Age that followed. An era we can’t even imagine.”
“Who…?”
“I’m Oliere Dune Jeraye. I’m the head instructor in charge of the 998th class of FakeWarrior cadets.”
He would learn later that the surname Dune Jeraye meant ‘vacant number,’ one without a dedicated holy sword. The golden eyes scanned Kaisen from top to bottom.
“Still, I never thought a man would actually show up… A first in FakeWarrior history. Though you haven't been officially appointed yet, of course.”
“…”
“You get told you’re not very friendly, don’t you? Let’s go. There’s something you need to do before you can enroll. Oh, and don’t even think about meeting your classmates. Since you’re a boy, we can’t officially place you in a class. It would be too much of a distraction for a bunch of adolescent girls.”
My classmates…?
FakeWarriors weren't trained individually. They were trained in classes, and only those who survived the hellish trials to the very end were granted the right to be chosen by a holy sword.
“By the way, you’ve spent four years on the battlefield under Camilla, haven’t you? No, has it been five now?”
Oliere asked as they walked along an ascending corridor of the Papal Office. People they passed bowed respectfully to her.
“That must have been rough. That bitch has quite a temper.”
“You know Camilla?”
Kaisen used formal speech.
This was thanks to Wolf’s repeated lessons on etiquette during their escape from the war-torn Old Republic to the Blade Peninsula.
“Of course I do. How I know her is a secret, though.”
“Ah, I see…”
“What about that tattoo on your face?”
“The Uruk who killed my mother carved it.”
“Who was your mother?”
“…Just an ordinary mother.”
“Hmm, I’ve never heard of an Uruk killing an ordinary woman and then branding her son with the mark of prey. Especially not the Balkrush, the number one clan.”
Ah. This woman has deep insight into the state of the Uruk.
So this is what an instructor is like.
As if finding Kaisen’s silence amusing, the corners of Oliere’s mouth lifted slightly.
“This way. Come inside.”
For the first time that day, Kaisen rode in an elevator operated by a winch.
“Close the metal gate… Good. See this number? 22. Remember it, because this is where you’ll be living from now on.”
The Dragon God’s palace soared high into the sky. Perhaps they worried about the spines of the elderly having to climb stairs all the way.
Kigigiging… With the grinding sound of chains winding, the elevator ascended.
Beyond the elevator’s railing, the Dragon God’s city grew smaller and shimmered in the sunlight.
‘My God.’
Kaisen’s eyes widened.
“If you press up against it like that and the glass breaks, you’ll fall to your death, you know.”
A place like this exists.
Such a place actually exists in the world.
The world my mother saw, the world my master saw… it contained a place like this. His mind reeled.
“Oh, Kaisen… Ah, you have it. Let me see that for a moment.”
What Oliere had asked for was the short sword Kaisen carefully wore at his waist. He handed his mother’s keepsake to the instructor.
“A sword ban is issued to all FakeWarrior cadets during their training.”
“A sword ban…?”
“That’s right. You can carry your sword, but you must never draw it. The moment you do, you’re expelled. It’s a basic test of a cadet’s willpower and self-control.”
Oliere took a hemp cord from her pocket and skillfully wrapped it around the hilt and scabbard of the short sword, binding them together to prevent it from being drawn by accident.
“No matter what happens?”
“Exceptions are made in life-threatening situations.”
“What about something equivalent to a life-threatening situation?”
“You’re more interesting than I thought.”
Just as Oliere returned the cord-sealed short sword, the sound of the chains ceased, and the elevator stopped its ascent.
The 22nd floor housed various training facilities. Oliere led Kaisen to a large rock.
A sword was embedded deep within it. Oliere pointed to the hilt.
“Pull out this sword, Kaisen.”
“?”
“If you can’t pull this out, you fail the first stage. In other words, you won’t become a FakeWarrior. You have two months, maximum. If you can’t do it by then, it’s over.”
And with that, Oliere’s guidance was over.
She turned and left, saying that was it, leaving him no time to ask questions. He could only stand there, facing the rock.
What kind of test was this?
At first, he thought it was a test of strength, and he tried to pull out the sword, gritting his teeth so hard one of his molars nearly shattered.
The sword didn’t even budge.
Was it a test of magic, then? He circulated magic throughout his body, using his mana chain and mana heart to grip the hilt, but still…
‘What in the world is going on? Is this thing even possible to pull out?’
A day, two days, five, ten, a fortnight, and then a month…
A sense of impatience slowly crept in.
Each day crumbled away with the rising sun and setting moon, and while the blades of the Uruk stained the world with blood, my own time was frozen here.
“A man becoming a FakeWarrior? It’s ridiculous from the start. I heard his background is questionable, too.”
“And that tattoo on his face is an Uruk crest. It’s profane.”
While he struggled with the hilt in front of this rock, or when he went down to the dining hall, famished, he would hear such taunts from the other warrior trainees.
He had never cared about what others said before in his life.
But this time, those voices began to eat away at his will.
Am I not cut out for this?
Can I not become a FakeWarrior like my mother and Camilla?
Is it because I was born a man?
He tried to pull out the hilt.
Even as the flesh of his palms grew raw and burst, soaking them in blood, even as his tendons felt like they would snap.
Still, the sword remained silent.
Watching Kaisen’s struggle from afar, Oliere Dune Jeraye’s heart also burned black with frustration.
‘He’s a lost cause, Camilla.’
To be unable to awaken the mass-produced holy sword, Diale, after nearly two months.
Awakening Diale is merely the starting point. It’s a test to determine whether one can communicate with a holy sword.
Failing to awaken it is tantamount to lacking the most crucial talent for a FakeWarrior: the ‘aptitude for wielding a holy sword.’
‘I had such high hopes, especially since he was the disciple you chose and raised… Was it truly impossible for a man, after all?’
For a FakeWarrior’s disciple to be unable to pull out that sword is to bring shame upon their master’s name.
All FakeWarrior disciples pass this stage in a single day.
As a prime example, Camilla, the disciple of the great hero, finished it in one go.
‘Compared to you, who was overwhelmingly superior to anyone else, your disciple will be expelled tomorrow…’
With a sigh, Oliere turned and boarded the elevator.
‘Damn it…’
Kaisen ended up punching the rock. His skin tore, and blood flowed.
‘Damn it, damn it, damn it…’
Is this how it ends?
I stopped counting long ago, but it must be close to two months now.
Nothing has changed. If I had pulled it out even a little, there would be a glimmer of hope.
‘Maybe it would be better to just return to the battlefield as soon as possible…’
He’d had such despairing thoughts more than once, but he just couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on the rock and leave.
Aradamanthel wasn't just a sword. Nor was it a mark of honor for becoming a hero.
To the boy, Aradamanthel was a link. A link to two people with whom the bond was now broken, never to be reforged.
- Then I entrust Aradamanthel to you.
Hadn't Camilla left with those parting words? And yet, and yet now I…
“You can’t pull it out with just strength.”
As the evening breeze blew gently, a girl stood beside the rock, as if she had sprung from the wind itself.
Her silver hair, as if bathed in moonlight, danced gracefully with the breeze.
It was fundamentally different from the white hair of a FakeWarrior.
The girl’s eyes, which regarded him with a detached air, were a blue clearer than sapphire, and even her eyelids were as elegant as the pale moonlight.
“What?”
The girl was beautiful.
He had never been interested in the opposite sex his entire life, but the moment he saw her, a corner of his heart trembled.
Her eyes, which seemed to view the world with pure and flawless clarity, held a mysterious, playful glint.
Strangely, however, she was dressed in a patient's gown. Whenever its hem fluttered, glimpses of bandages and scars covering her body could be seen.
“That isn’t a worldly sword. It has a heart and a name. You must listen to its voice.”
Rather than trying to explain it all, it felt more fitting to simply describe her as mysterious.
She didn't seem human at all.
She was a mysterious girl, like the great forces of nature—the sun and moon, the stars, a stream, an old tree.
The girl, whose very footsteps were mysterious, slowly approached and gently caressed the sword embedded in the rock.
Then, giving him a gentle look, she took Kaisen’s hand and guided it to the hilt.
“First, say your name. That’s what you do when you talk to someone for the first time, right?”
“…Kaisen.”
Was he bewitched by her mysterious beauty? Kaisen answered in a voice so faint it was barely audible even to himself.
A brief silence passed between them before a laugh escaped the girl’s lips.
Even her laughter was mysterious, as if the sound formed droplets, curved, and created a melody.
“My name is Tarsiyo. But I meant you should tell the sword, Diale, not me.”
He felt a mortification so sharp it was like a cliff rising in his mind. He cleared his throat, momentarily unable to speak.
To hide his embarrassment, he averted his gaze from the girl and looked at the sword.
He didn’t even have the time to reconsider the strange suggestion of telling his name to a mere piece of metal.
“I am Kaisen.”
The moment he said it.
An image of Camilla’s back flashed through his mind—how she would call out her own name every time she drew Aradamanthel.
- I am Camilla Alter Aradamanthel.
- I am Ria Alter Tassalpo.
He also remembered Ria Raily doing the same thing before their duel in Aquitaina.
Could the ‘prayer’ Ria spoke of back then… be this?
At that moment, a pang shot through his heart. The hilt began to pulse, emitting a faint light.
“It’s… it’s working…?”
Unable to contain his overwhelming emotions, he looked at Tarsiyo, who smiled brightly.
“Yes, it worked. Now, tell the holy sword what’s in your heart.”
“My heart?”
“That’s what a prayer is. Like you’re praying, convey your wish. Then the holy sword will answer you.”
Tell it what’s in my heart? And the sword will answer?
Tarsiyo’s words seemed as if they would float away on the wind, groundless and full of mystery, yet they had a power that compelled one to listen.
Still, talking to himself—even if it was to a sword—was undeniably awkward.
“I want to pull you from this rock.”
“You have to convey your true feelings. Why do you want to pull it out?”
“Because I have to become a FakeWarrior.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised.”
“Then say that. To this one, not me.”
It wasn't difficult to turn the sorrow he felt while burning his dead master’s body into anger.
In a moment like this, what was there to hesitate about, what was there to be ashamed of?
Kaisen grasped the necklace that emanated a cold chill and held it out to Diale, hoping it would convey the stories that could not be spoken.
“Help me pass this test, Diale. I have to become one. I must… Please.”
As if the sincerity in his plea hadn't reached it, the holy sword showed no reaction.
“Diale says it will help you.”
He thought so for only a brief moment, right before the holy sword began to emit light.
Woong, woong, woong, woong, woong.
He couldn’t believe it. He had to doubt his own senses.
The sword that hadn’t budged for two months, no matter what he did… Woong, it pulsed with waves of light and began to slide out of the rock.
The sword, which settled into his grasp more smoothly than if drawn from a scabbard, flickered with a dazzling light.
“It worked?”
A hot and cold thrill shot down his spine, numbing his lower body, and he fell to his knees, clutching the sword with both hands.
“It worked?”
Now I can receive training as a FakeWarrior. I can succeed Camilla.
Amid his elation, a doubt raised its head. Why did this girl, Tarsiyo, help me?
All the other trainees looked at Kaisen as if he were an insect. They gave him looks that said a mere boy had no place in the Hall of the Valiant Sword. They all wanted him expelled as soon as possible.
‘So why did she?’
At that, Tarsiyo lowered her gaze and gave a peculiar answer.
“Because Sharrilion wanted it.”
“Sha… what? Who’s that?”
“A holy sword.”
“A holy sword?”
“I didn’t help you. I just told you how to talk to it. Well then, keep up the good work, Kaisen.”
The girl who had drifted into his life like a spring breeze vanished just as she came, like the wind.
It would be some time before he learned who Tarsiyo was and what she was doing.
And even longer before he understood the impact this meeting would have on his life.
* * *
“You pulled out Diale… How did you do it? I recall you couldn’t even make it budge before.”
“Tarsiyo told me. The way to pray.”
“What?”
The next day, Oliere Dune Jeraye, who had come up to check on his progress, raised an eyebrow.
He didn’t know how to pray?
A direct disciple of a FakeWarrior?
Praying is the first thing they’re trained in the moment they become a disciple…?
She didn’t understand, but did this mean he didn’t lack talent, he just didn’t know the method?
That in itself was bewildering enough to be shocking, but the latter part was even more absurd.
“Tarsiyo, you say? Her Ladyship?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Don’t you dare mention that name carelessly to anyone. And don’t ask why.”
“Why not? I want to thank her.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to ask? You… hmm, you might have the right to know, but there’s a Class-1 gag order.”
“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘the right to know.’”
“Enough. Put that matter aside and follow me. And don’t leave even a hint that someone helped you. Giving advice during the first prayer trial is strictly forbidden. Even for instructors.”
“Understood. But where are we going?”
At Kaisen’s question, Oliere glanced back, a faint smile on her lips, so subtle that others might not have noticed.
It was likely a smile born from a feeling of satisfaction.
For it was a sad yet joyous thing to finally be able to guide the disciple of an old friend who had already died and departed for the high heavens.
“With this, you’ve proven you’re qualified to become a FakeWarrior, Kaisen. So now, let’s begin the training process in earnest.”