Chapter 149
Chapter 149
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 149
>Chapter Title: Was it very hard?
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Shine turned his gaze from the epitaph on the tombstone to the space beside it.
Right next to his own tombstone stood another one.
Shamid von Lortel
It didn't take long for him to notice the neatly placed box in front of Shamid's tombstone as he stared at it.
"This is..."
A single envelope lay atop the box.
Shine brushed off the dust and opened the envelope.
It was a letter left behind by Shamid.
And upon reading its contents, Shine found some resolution to the questions he'd felt while passing through the trials.
To my friend, my idol, Shine von Lormang.
This place was originally meant to honor my brilliantly shining friend Shine, and as per our pact with that friend, it is a arrangement to return the demonic sword.
The letter began by revealing the purpose of the Sword God's Tomb.
But...
...I know that the pact will not be kept.
The very friend who made the promise with me crossed the river from which there is no return.
I waited for his descendant on the slim chance, but as this wait drags on toward half a century, even that seems impossible.
Shamid had known that Shine wouldn't come.
It was only natural, perhaps.
Shamid couldn't have been unaware of his own death.
He had waited for a descendant just in case, but realized it was impossible right before his own end.
"So that's why... all those trials were such a mess?"
It had seemed odd.
Knowing of his own death, this place was left for his descendant.
So why were the trials structured in ways only Shine himself could unravel? Why were the first two stages so poorly discerning?
In truth, Shamid had never expected anything.
Yet a question lingered.
"Then why make such a trial at all? There was no reason to create a test in the first place."
Shine continued reading, harboring his doubts.
Then he scowled, his teary eyes narrowing fiercely.
If you reading this letter are my descendant, turn back now.
This is a letter left for a descendant.
But...
The words that followed enveloped Shine in an emotion he couldn't quite name.
This demonic sword is my final act of faith. The last flicker of light in my stained knighthood.
So please, turn back.
It is a promise I could not keep...
To Shamid, this pact held meaning simply in the act of making it.
To safeguard that handful of faith remaining. For that speck of purity in the knighthood he called stained.
But what kind of life had he lived, exactly?
A heart that burned hot as a knight's, ripped out to become a cold-blooded patriarch, yet the warmth he ultimately preserved. Born of steel, turned to a serpent, yet the promise he harbored to the end.
Ripped out his heart, did he say?
Became a serpent, did he say?
Shamid was more a knight than anyone Shine had ever known.
Always bested by him yet standing firm in his convictions, seeing his will through. At times it had been frustrating...
'You were a knight.'
So what path had he walked? No, as patriarch, his life was predictable enough.
Thus, questioning "what path" was misguided.
Instead, Shine rephrased his question.
"How... did you endure it?"
Unable to adapt.
Unable to yield.
Unable to fall or let himself go.
He suppressed a lifetime of living as a knight to fulfill his duties as patriarch, enduring the agony of his soul being whittled away.
This...
Was easy for Shine.
And for most knights.
Everyone gets stained and dirtied eventually.
That's just how life is.
But why...
Shine gauged Shamid's worn soul from the calm handwriting. His trembling eyes traced the footprints of that soul.
I know. This is a promise that will ultimately go unkept.
Just the lingering regret of an old knight.
So please, turn back.
The brilliantly shining soul of the knight is dead.
This is the trail of a decrepit man.
But...
Shine had to admit it.
Even if Shamid as a knight had died...
That soul remained unyieldingly firm.
If even so, you cannot give up Lortel? Has your power crumbled, your blade dulled?
Then draw it.
That single thread of conviction clutched desperately for a lifetime. One you can cast aside without hesitation for your house.
However, when you reclaim all your power, do not forget.
That beneath this new power lay the name of Lormang.
Having read the letter to the end...
Shine understood.
The feelings with which Shamid had built this masterless tomb, and why he had created this meaningless trial.
As written in the letter, it was the pointless lingering regret of an old man. And remorse.
On one hand...
As Shine pondered that far...
Rustle.
The two overlapping sheets of the letter shifted, revealing the next page.
A short line, different from the front.
Shine, my fierce friend.
I miss those days.
Only then did Shine fully understand Shamid's heart.
It was longing for bygone years.
Shine folded the letter away and stepped forward to Shamid's tombstone beside his own.
"Was it very hard?"
There was no reply, but Shine felt he knew the answer.
- It was. More than words can say.
For a Lortel patriarch, it was a frail sight, but Shamid had always been that way.
One who calmly acknowledged his shortcomings and strove endlessly. Honest to a fault, stubborn to the point of rigidity.
'I thought he'd adapt once he became patriarch...'
But leaving a letter like this, he evidently hadn't.
To think it ached him even in his dying moments.
"You did well."
The single phrase carried layers of meaning.
"And thank you."
He lacked the silver tongue to say more. A sly one would have spun any words, but not him.
Shine placed the wildflowers he'd brought separately in front of the tombstone and silently paid his respects for a moment.
How much time passed like that?
"This debt, I will repay."
With that short vow, Shine ended his farewell to Shamid.
Right after, the first thing Shine did was smash his own tombstone.
It wasn't solely because he was alive.
Though much time had passed, he was still a traitor. He worried that if this tombstone came to light later, it would trouble Lortel.
'I don't know how he built the Sword God's Tomb... but it couldn't have been easy.'
The fact that the secret hadn't been revealed suggested there were those who followed Shamid devotedly. Loyal ones who upheld his orders even after his death. Those unswayed by the demonic sword's temptation...
Knowing his old friend hadn't lived a life of utter loneliness eased Shine's heart.
With that, he shattered the tombstone to pieces.
Only then did Shine reach for the wooden box he presumed held the demonic sword.
Creak.
Corroded by time? The lid opened with a harsh hinge squeal.
Shine unwrapped the luxurious cloth encasing the contents and lifted it to eye level.
A blade of pure white.
The demonic sword Proteus.
Shine admired Proteus's form for a moment, then took in Shamid's tombstone once more.
"Remember that beneath the new power lay the name of Lormang, you said? Then I..."
He paused there, choosing his words.
After a moment.
His mouth opened.
"Very well. As lord of the Sword Garden, I will remember that Lortel stands in the revival of the Sword Garden and the vampire clan."
The vampire clan would remember for ages.
Shamid von Lortel.
This great knight's faith.
Ah, but why was he the Sword Garden's lord?
'That sly fox calls himself lord of the tower, so I must be a lord too, no?'
Shine stored the demonic sword Proteus in his subspace and turned to leave the Sword God's Tomb. Or tried to.
'...But, wait.'
A sudden flash in his mind: the attendant's plea.
- Oh, and you must keep what I mentioned earlier.
- No damaging artifacts, no recording images, and no more than a day. Right?
- Yes.
His anxious, trembling eyes took in the wrecked scene.
"...What now?"
The dilemma was brief.
Shine drew Proteus and ignited ether.
'I haven't imprinted as owner yet, but...'
A demonic sword amplified ether's intensity on its own, so it should suffice.
Shine's sword cleaved the air an instant later.
Slash, swish! Shh-shh-slash...!
Each invisible-speed stroke turned the large stone chunks into fine powder.
After a long while.
Shine sheathed his sword only after the two chambers merged seamlessly, as if they'd always been one space.
"This should... do it."
A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
The Lormang family's demonic sword had returned to its master's hand after long ages.
* * *
Meanwhile, at that time.
In the Iron Grand Hall.
Hamellan was paying respects to the patriarch before departing for Bydun.
"Did the tower's lord accept the proposal?"
"Yes, he did. He seemed hesitant, but the reply came just now. However... he attached conditions."
"...Conditions?"
Muhard's eyebrow twitched once.
Conditions?
Lortel had agreed to shelter the magic tower and Sword Garden.
True, they'd switch sides if the Heavenly Origin Art's secret surfaced, but even so, it was a windfall for the tower and Garden.
Muhard couldn't help but find it outrageous.
"What did he demand?"
Hamellan wore a strange expression at the sharp tone.
"It's... a bit ambiguous."
Hamellan recalled his recent conversation with the tower's lord.
The tower's lord had come in person before Hamellan could even send someone.
The talk began with a question.
- Sheltering us means recognizing us as Lortel's allies, right?
- Indeed. Likely granting a platinum token.
The platinum token was Lortel's highest-tier mark, given only to a select few allies.
Its holder could request Lortel's aid anytime, anywhere, as an equal ally.
Of course, whether Lortel accepted depended on the matter's weight, but in emergencies, it could summon Lortel knights—a value beyond money.
Only three platinum tokens remained.
Was that unexpected?
- Plati...num token?
- Yes.
The tower's lord's eyes sparkled.
Hamellan sensed it then.
'...If I'd offered platinum from the start, no hesitation.'
But the tower lord's gall exceeded imagination.
- Then, as a platinum token holder, could I get secret tomes or such?
- ....
- You know, even if not strictly with the token... as a congratulatory gesture for allying, maybe?
Was he mad?
Other knights would have beheaded him on the spot.
Better to ask for the patriarch's seat. Why?
- How about... secret technique exchanges? Something like that? We're allies, after all, and our Sword Garden...
- We're not mages. And even mages don't exchange secrets, as far as I know?
- Urgh.
The tower lord pondered regretfully.
As Hamellan thought back that far, Muhard's heavy voice thudded in his ear.
"Even asked for the patriarch's seat?"
"...No."
Hamellan shook his head vigorously at the mere thought of such blasphemy.
He hesitated briefly. He wanted to recount it all verbatim, but...
'Can't do that.'
The young patriarch would be heartbroken.
His guests would end up headless corpses overnight.
So he summarized briefly.
"He asked for some useless books later."
"...Books?"
"Yes, said he'd build a library. Or was it the tower becoming a library? Anyway, the proposal was to donate books afterward."
"And?"
Muhard blinked at the unexpected turn.
"I refused. The main house has no useless books, does it? Can't buy extras just for the tower."
"Hmm."
The patriarch seemed oddly disappointed.
But only briefly.
Patriarch Muhard sensed something off.
The tower lord just backed down?
"Oh, he made some absurd proposals after."
"...Speak."
"Anything, even diaries from the knights..."
Hamellan said it and gauged Muhard's reaction.
No way the patriarch would accept such nonsense, but it felt uneasy somehow.
Yet, why?
"..."
Patriarch Muhard fell silent, deep in thought.
After a moment.
"Allow it."
"...Pardon?"
Hamellan's eyes went wide.
"Have my ears failed me in old age, my lord? What did you just say...?"
He asked again, but the patriarch's answer stood firm.
"I said allow it."
"Why..."
"Self-reflection greatly aids training. No one reaches high realms without it."
Hamellan was speechless.
'He's right.'
True as it was.
But for a library shelf?
Imagine your diary on public display, strangers poring over your private life—utter humiliation!
But.
"Then, what shall we call it?"
"...Even the name?"
Hamellan asked, but the patriarch pondered without answering. Soon, his mouth opened.
"Yes, writings penned in self-cultivation. Call it the Cultivation Chronicles."
"..."
In that moment, Hamellan thought.
'A plague ravages Lortel.'
And the plague's name was the tower's lord.