The Weaponry of Ten Thousand Evils
A quick glance—shuk—and another quick glance—shuk.
Every time her eyes met his, Diana would whip her head away. When Rai playfully stared somewhere else, Diana would jump in surprise, tumble backward over the sofa, and peek out with only her eyes.
“... ... What are you doing?”
“N-no… I-I’m just… it feels weird being called ‘Rai-kang’ lately, right?”
Rai frowned, and Diana forced an awkward smile, turning her gaze elsewhere.
He had watched her act strange all morning and let out a small sigh, pretending to look away before darting toward her in a flash.
Pop-bababa-bak—
She dodged with the speed she’d never shown before, then stood behind the door with only her upper body peeking out.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’ll be leaving soon, so get ready.”
“Yeah—got it. See you later, then.”
She slipped away like smoke, still glancing back at him until the very end, then vanished completely.
Rai was sharp as ever, yet he hadn’t noticed the emotions swirling in her eyes this time.
The girl who had always been confident and cheerful now acted like a shy girl playing at embarrassment.
But the same girl, Philia, felt those same emotions and frowned, eyebrows tightening.
Philia had disliked Diana’s behavior.
Diana would approach Rai brightly, teasing him with gentle touches, but her feelings weren’t romantic—she simply liked poking at him.
Philia herself was outgoing and okay with the crude jokes boys liked to make, keeping things light.
Yet the way Diana stuck to Rai was only to stir up jealousy and gently irritate everyone else.
Each time Diana did it, Philia’s anger burned hotter.
It was true Diana liked Rai—deeply, almost reverently.
But she didn’t see him as a man; she saw him as her master and hero.
Yet.
Overnight her eyes had changed.
She had fallen head over heels for him, turning the once-confident fox-like girl into a blushing, shy one.
Philia was even more irritated by this than when Diana had simply teased him.
“Hey, what happened with Diana yesterday?”
“Huh? I only saw Diana when we had dinner with you guys last night?”
Rai tilted his head, and Philia kept her mouth shut.
Rai thought nothing of it and prepared to head back to the academy.
“Wait, come here for a second.”
Before the group left, Juan led everyone to the underground armory.
Ten years had passed since he had first shown it to Rai, yet the place looked exactly the same—familiar, even nostalgic, to Rai’s eyes.
“I’m giving this gift to the people who will one day shoulder the Empire’s future.”
Juan opened the heavy iron gate while speaking.
Inside lay a vast room lined with countless weapons—everything from ordinary steel swords one might find anywhere, to bizarre continental oddities no one else possessed.
Even the lowest-ranked items here were treasures fit for any nation.
The children’s eyes sparkled as they walked among them.
“—I didn’t bring these myself. I’m just lending you the Devil of All Nations’ blessings.”
Juan spoke without shame, despite the owner standing right beside him, and laughed heartily.
All the weapons in the armory were ones Rai had gathered while roaming the Ten Thousand Evils.
He hadn’t had a collector’s obsession, but as his subordinates grabbed weapons from battlefields and left them here, the armory became a sanctuary.
After receiving Trayer territory in surrender, Juan had guarded this place alone for years.
It remained sealed to everyone.
Juan had always planned to leave every weapon here until his own death.
Each one carried memories of his comrades.
His unit had never produced a successor—too many had died, cursed by some unseen force.
Even Joshua, who lived in drunken excess despite being a colonel, and Melanie, the respected Iron-Blooded Empress, had never raised heirs.
Yet these were Rai’s students—qualifying them to claim any weapon.
Juan told them to choose freely, and the children stared in wide-eyed wonder.
Rai glanced at Juan.
“You want one too? Pick anything—I’m feeling generous.”
“Stealing someone else’s stuff.”
“Hahaha, now they’re officially mine. The blood and sweat of the battlefield.”
While the two bantered, Tepes explained the weapons the children were eyeing.
Zeroa, who had always broken his shield in combat, searched for something sturdy; he touched a magnificent shield etched with a wolf crest.
“I wouldn’t recommend that one.”
“It looks really good… is it cursed?”
“Cursed? Well… it is. It belonged to the Andronikos family.”
“... ... Andronikos… Georg…?”
“Yes. Marquess Georg Andronikos, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Northern Command.”
Zeroa jolted when he heard the name.
Georg was the legendary general who had stopped the endless tide of Norden troops during the Era of Strife.
Edelian, who had fought the Devil of All Nations; Georg, who had blocked Norden; and Person of the Central Army—all were towering figures who had survived the brutal war and still commanded respect.
“No way… the Andronikos family’s heirloom is here…?”
Every child’s gaze fixed on the wolf-crest shield; Aslan stared at it with envy.
But Tepes spoke calmly.
“The late Marquess Andronikos’s brother, Gaiyal, was slain by young Master Elliot Trayer. You all already know the rest, don’t you?”
The Empire knew of the bitter defeats they had suffered; no one was unaware.
They knew Gaiyal had died to the Devil, but they hadn’t known he had carried the heirloom into battle.
“If you take the shield, you may face inquiries.”
“No, there’s zero chance of that.”
Aslan’s jaw dropped at Tepes’s casual tone.
“Then are all these weapons soaked in grudges?”
“Most are perfectly safe—most owners and their families have been wiped out. I’ll explain the risky ones if you want.”
“... ...”
Juan added, “The Era of Strife was brutal. The Empire took the least damage. As long as you don’t take weapons taken from the Empire itself, you’re fine. Some were ownerless to begin with.”
Once more the children browsed, eyes shining.
Philia, who had been admiring armor with sparkling eyes, quietly asked Tepes.
“Is there any weapon Young Master used?”
“Unfortunately, most of Young Master’s weapons have been erased from existence.”
Philia nodded at the exact word “erased.”
Diana, nearby, also perked up.
“If it’s a sword from before his hair turned grey, I believe it still exists. It’s not called a Demon Blade, but… it’s still fine.”
“What kind?”
Diana slipped closer, joining the conversation, and Philia shot her a glare.
Tepes lifted an old sword with both hands, presenting it politely.
“This is the sword Young Master carried on his first battle. It’s not a true Demon Blade, but it carries historical weight…”
“Thud.”
“Drop it.”
“Philia, you should drop it too. Why are you suddenly so interested in the Devil of All Nations?”
“And why are you suddenly interested in Elliot Trayer?”
“I’ve always been interested.”
“Me too.”
Philia and Diana ignored Tepes, reaching for the hilt while glaring at each other.
Tepes smiled faintly, then slowly lowered the weapon from their hands.
“But I can’t let you take this. It’s not a true heirloom, but it bears the history of the Trayer house.”
Disappointment flashed across both girls’ eyes.
Tepes felt a quiet pride—his young master’s popularity hadn’t faded even after so many years.
He placed the old sword back and pulled out a narrow blade.
“This is the one possessed by Young Master’s vice-commanders who were known as the Undying Army of Kaylen.”
“I have one too.”
Juan opened his coat, displaying the same blade.
The handle looked ordinary, but once drawn the edge gleamed with terrifying sharpness.
“Meteor iron?”
Philia examined the material in surprise; Tepes nodded proudly.
“Yes. It was forged by dwarves from the meteorite steel of Demon Sword Gurde over a hundred days.”
“Really? They melted the Gurde?”
The children crowded around to inspect it.
“Young Master believed that cursed swords which drive people mad should never exist.”
“Huh? No, I was right there—I know for sure.”
Juan shook his head.
“He smashed it with a hammer after the kid used it a few times and declared it unnecessary. The dwarves cried buckets when they saw the broken pieces.”
“... ... There are stories like that too. Different versions exist, but the core is the same—he thought such things should not exist.”
Philia’s quiet defense of her master’s honor left the children in stunned silence.
After a moment of awkward quiet, Tepes handed the blade to Philia.
“Eh? Why to Philia? Did I do something bad to you, Tepes?”
Diana pouted in jealousy, and Tepes smiled, offering her the same blade.
“As I said, every vice-commander capable of leading has one. I’ll give one to Aslan, Zeroa, and Abigail as well.”
“Umm… if we all carry them at once, won’t we be mistaken for resistance fighters?”
Aslan asked anxiously, and Diana snatched Aslan’s blade with a grin.
“Then this one’s mine. Twin blade—twin blade.”
“No, I’m not saying I won’t take it!”
Even a rare meteor-iron blade was irresistible.
Aslan quickly reclaimed it from Diana; Zeroa took the one Tepes offered and stared at it in wonder.
“How much are these even worth? I’d feel guilty receiving something like this…”
“It’s fine. The owner is gone now.”
Zeroa sensed the subtle meaning and clutched the blade tighter, finding it heavier than expected.
Finally he approached Abigail, who stared coldly without reaching for anything.
“I don’t need it… or rather, I’m taking this one instead.”
Abigail ignored the unused blade and chose a battle-ready sword that suited her.
“High standards. Using divine power makes it a wise choice.”
“Hey, why do you use casual speech with me but honorifics with Tepes?”
“Perhaps it’s the difference between a person’s presence and their dignity?”
“Dignity? I have plenty.”
Juan and Rai’s murmurs were ignored as Abigail swung the holy blade a few times before sheathing it at her waist.
Each student had chosen and been explained to.
Philia kept only the ring given by her master, intending to use the sword he had once wielded.
Though not a true dragon bone, Aslan smiled at the sleek, sturdy feel of the massive blade with its legendary aura.
“Please, don’t lose it this time.”
“What am I, some kind of kid? This is the first time I’ve lost one.”
Aslan grumbled at Rai’s teasing while fleeing from Bell Union pursuers who had once taken his sword.
“Thank you for the overwhelming kindness.”
“If you ever need anything again, come anytime. The doors of the Trayer house are always open to you.”
Juan received almost identical words from Dake Filburt of the Bell Union.
The journey had been filled with rewards—foreign noble support, political backing, the ancient symbol of Kaylen, and the weapons themselves.
“Stay healthy until then, my boy.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
While the others exchanged meaningless promises, Rai mounted his horse and rode off with the students.
Juan watched them leave, then returned to the office and whispered to Tepes.
“Prepare spots for the old comrades’ weapons in the armory.”
“... ... Yes, understood.”
Tepes nodded silently.
No need to ask why. The weapons were mostly war trophies taken from enemies.
The man who had kept silent until now would soon fight against the resistance.