Master of the Holy Sword -2-
Rowan walked silently through the maze, casting a sidelong glance at Yuria trailing behind him with a rigid expression. She looks extremely tense. It showed in every step she took and the way her face had hardened like stone. He wanted to ease her nerves with a light joke, but lacking any talent for small talk, Rowan simply shook his head with a bitter smile. I'd probably just scare her more.
Though it pained him to admit it, he was a figure known throughout the Empire. Everyone feared him—except for Deathmunt and that suspicious fellow. Still, Rowan considered himself a proper adult. He spoke to Yuria without ceremony.
"Your name was Yuria, wasn't it?"
"Y-yes...!"
"And you're from the north."
"That is correct...!"
"No need to speak so stiffly. I'm a parent with a daughter myself."
"Yes, sir!"
Rowan tried to lighten the mood by asking something he'd always wondered about—something Malik, the eldest, had never shared. Nor had Rossi, the second daughter. Nor Hanna, the youngest.
"How is academy life treating you?"
"...The academy?"
"Yes."
"It's good."
"What do you like about it?"
"Well..."
Yuria studied Rowan's expression and thought to herself that the senior director and the knight commander had similar personalities. Different in essence, perhaps, but their way of speaking felt alike.
"There are many good people, and it's fun."
"I see."
After a few more meaningless exchanges, the atmosphere had loosened slightly. Rowan offered Yuria a casual word of comfort.
"Are you nervous?"
"Nervous...?!"
"I asked if you're nervous."
"Ah..."
Yuria lowered her head, staring at the dusty white wall. She had tried not to show it, but she was terrified. The shock of the cult's attack still hadn't faded, and the screams that had torn through the air still rang vividly in her ears. She could almost hear them begging, "Save me," "Save me." What would happen here? Would someone chase them from behind? The fear echoed endlessly in her heart. That was why she was so tense—why the cult's existence felt so real.
Rowan, understanding her fear, smiled gently without pressing her.
"Don't be nervous."
"Yes..."
"No matter what happens, I will protect you. All you need to do is gain experience."
"...Understood."
"That said, don't let your guard down completely."
"Yes...!"
"Much better."
Rowan nodded and continued forward, passing identical white walls and platinum-armored figures holding swords as they navigated the complex maze.
After roughly ten steps—
Shhhhh...
Rowan stopped at a fork in the path, sensing an ominous energy, and let out a sigh.
"It's cold here."
"..."
"Doesn't feel like the Holy Sword's energy."
"..."
Rowan had felt this strange presence since the entrance. It grated on him like a thorn. Do they have some other motive? The energy felt alien—nothing like what a person would emit—and too twisted to belong to the Holy Sword. It was as if the sword itself were suppressing something.
Whatever it was—
"We'll go this way."
With no information to go on, Rowan turned toward the left path where the ominous energy flowed. After one step, then two, he frowned at the space that opened before him.
"...Hah."
Black and white. The stark contrast of colors drew a wry chuckle from Rowan. He couldn't be certain, but he sensed a secret hidden here. The temple of pure white had failed to maintain its concept to the end. Black and white mingled in defiance of that purity. And—
"It's absurdly vast."
A space so enormous it was hard to believe it had been carved from a mountain welcomed him. The chamber was split cleanly in half, black on one side, white on the other. Dozens of paths branched through it, and a massive mural covered the ceiling. On the pitch-black wall was engraved a single man holding a sword. On the pure white wall, a woman wielding a brilliant blade loomed large.
Rowan voiced the question that had formed in his mind.
"How grotesque."
"...It is."
"Far too wide and massive."
Rowan voiced another doubt about the temple that had been so carefully sealed, as if guarding a sacred relic.
"A pure white temple housing the Holy Sword shouldn't have black in it. It doesn't fit."
He couldn't fathom what the ancient builders had been thinking when they constructed such a colossal temple. The intentions of the ancients were a puzzle beyond modern comprehension. One thing was certain: they had no intention of easily relinquishing the Holy Sword. Otherwise, there would be no reason to hide it in such a vast maze.
Rowan nodded and stepped into the enormous chamber.
"The coexistence of black and white, huh."
"..."
"Strange, isn't it?"
"..."
"It's as if they're trying to hide something. Like the Holy Sword is a stake meant to suppress whatever's beneath."
"..."
"This unnecessarily huge temple feels like a warehouse built to contain leaking energy..."
Yuria, unable to follow Rowan's words, merely stared at him with a frightened expression and mumbled incoherently.
"I'm just rambling. Don't think too deeply about it."
Rowan let out a dry laugh and moved toward the open space. If the paths they'd walked so far were corridors, this place felt like an auditorium. Or, to use a sewer analogy, a place where all the water gathered.
"Complicated."
"..."
Rowan clicked his tongue and began walking slowly. Then—
Tap.
He held his breath at the sound of approaching footsteps. An intruder—or rather, someone with the same goal as them whose path had crossed theirs.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
As the footsteps drew closer, Yuria swallowed hard and began gathering holy power in her fists. Rowan likewise drew his sword from his waist and began channeling aura into it. He spoke to the tense Yuria.
"Don't be nervous. The person beside you is the strongest in the Empire."
"..."
"Judging by the energy I sense, it doesn't seem to be Ricardo."
"..."
"In that case... an Apostle."
Rowan slowly began coating his sword with aura. The golden aura symbolizing the Empire's Sword flowed into the blade—domineering and intense.
"Our enemy, then."
From the opposite exit, the figure producing the footsteps emerged from the darkness into Rowan's view. Wearing a thick robe over their head and radiating ferocious magical power without restraint, the figure approached Rowan and Yuria without hesitation.
Rowan sent Yuria behind him and said, "...Stay alert."
"Yes."
"If another Apostle appears, we'll retreat. Be ready to retrace our steps."
Nod.
Rowan raised an eyebrow as he looked at the approaching figure. Though the darkness obscured their face, he couldn't help but be surprised by the characteristics the woman before him displayed.
"An elf...?"
"...!"
"Why is an elf here?"
"That person earlier...!"
"Shh. I heard about it from Ricardo."
It was an elf.
"..."
The same elf who had unleashed massive magic on the academy group was slowly walking toward Rowan. He spoke coldly to Yuria.
"Get back."
The moment his words ended, countless black spears rained down from above the Apostle of Benevolence's head—fast and powerful—falling toward Rowan and Yuria.
"..."
Rowan deployed a barrier of swords and exhaled calmly before asking the Apostle, "What is your name?"
"Apostle of Benevolence."
"Your real name."
"..."
"Not in the mood to talk, I see."
Rowan recited the information he knew about the Apostle of Benevolence.
"Why would an elf attack humans?"
"..."
"Thirty years ago, humans and elves signed a peace treaty during a secret meeting."
"..."
"...A taciturn elf."
The Apostle of Benevolence's cold green eyes glared at Rowan as she spoke.
"Filthy Empire's Sword."
"You know my epithet."
"Filthy hypocrite."
"I never expected to hear that from an elf."
"..."
"I don't recall harboring any ill will toward elves. Why speak so negatively?"
The Apostle of Benevolence conjured a bow in her hand.
"Humans are the worst."
"Elves don't seem like such a great race either."
"Shut up."
"..."
Rowan lightly kicked off the ground and unleashed a sword aura. At that moment, the bowstring in the Apostle's hand sliced through the wind and flew far. Sword aura and arrow collided.
Kiiiiiing!
A storm-like shockwave erupted. Yuria furrowed her brow, unable to see ahead, and the robe the elf wore began to flutter violently.
Kiiing... kiing...!
Ricardo's Tyrving had the ability to nullify magic, but Rowan's sword did not.
Kiiiiiing!
The aftershock was immense. The fierce wind made the elf's robe dance. At the same time, the elf's eyes began to tremble.
"I can't let it show..."
It was only for an instant, but Rowan saw it.
"I can't let it show..."
The elf before him was afraid.
Rowan didn't give her time to reach for the slipping robe. He unleashed another wave of sword aura. He didn't know why she trembled, but there was no room for mercy toward the strong on the battlefield.
"Hup...!"
Crack!
The Apostle of Benevolence released the robe she had been clutching and began to respond. And at that moment—
Flutter.
As the robe fell away, Rowan and Yuria's eyes widened in shock.
"You..."
Rowan spoke with trembling eyes.
"You were a slave."
The face the Apostle of Benevolence had hidden bore massive burn scars. A huge burn mark covered her left eye, impossible to conceal, and a slave brand on her collarbone revealed her past.
The Apostle of Benevolence's eyes began to tremble at Rowan's words.
"Don't look..."
"..."
"Don't look..."
Madness seeped into her gaze. Madness born from humans. Madness she could never forget, no matter how much she wished to.
"Those eyes..."
She began to charge.
"I'll gouge them out."