Chapter 207
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Chapter 207
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: The Hall of Spirit Swords
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There was no way to find Isna right away.
Even if I'd cast a tracking spell on the orichalcon sword I gave her as a gift, things would have been easier—but I hadn't.
Of course, even for someone like her who pulled off eccentric stunts as casually as eating rice, she wasn't an idiot. She wouldn't recklessly dive into something she couldn't handle on her own.
That's what I figured, at least for now.
She wasn't some heretic or surveillance unit carving her own path no matter the world. Who would be insane enough to attack the young lady of a colossal house like Mielephon?
Even racking my brains, nothing came to mind.
"For now, let's wait and see."
The number of acquirable memories has increased.
"Already?"
Yes.
The memory I could currently download was from the Hall of Spirits.
Just from the name, anyone could guess it had something to do with spirit arts.
The number of buttons I'd pressed in that hall wasn't small.
But were they all from entirely different lineages? No, they weren't.
"So? What's this one?"
It is the Hall of Spirit Swords.
What the hell was that?
The Hall of Spirits was surely tied to spiritists wielding the well-known powers of spirits.
The Hall of Spirit Swords, on the other hand, was an utterly unfamiliar category.
What in the world could it be?
"What the hell is the Hall of Spirit Swords?"
There is no way to confirm until you download it directly. For now.
Just as I'd gained the ability to choose which hall memory to retrieve, clashing endlessly with the red moon would surely unlock even more diverse functions someday.
"No, this is ridiculous. In the end, do I have to keep holding out until I have some leeway later to grab it?"
Receiving a hall memory right now was a serious burden, which was why I'd put it off. But I couldn't ignore the fact that once I downloaded one, I couldn't get another for quite a while.
In other words, grabbing one now would give me another choice ticket.
Caught in this delicate dilemma, I agonized before finally deciding.
"Hall of Spirit Swords, retrieve."
Will you retrieve the memory from the Hall of Spirit Swords?
"Let's do it. No hall is ever useless anyway."
Every single one was a memory from realms unreachable without forging one's own history.
No doubt it would have some effect.
As if responding to my choice, a dizzying sensation washed over me—like some alien force was churning up my mind.
Ugh...
The backlash from the memory retrieval was fiercer than I'd thought. It felt far stronger than before.
At this rate, would I stop being myself?
At the same time, a colossal wave of memories surged in—enough to trigger instant nausea.
"Kuh... Kuuh!!"
It felt like my brain was being crushed.
They say the human brain can store only so much information. Excess gets auto-deleted by the brain itself. So how many lifetimes' worth of memories was I carrying now?
"Urp... Urp!"
As I clamped my hand over my mouth and retched, Luna patted my back with a face gone deathly pale.
"What in the world are you doing to yourself!"
It was a relief that only she was witnessing my sorry state. If Melissa had seen me like this, she'd have thrown a fit.
"Urp! Urp!"
After heaving from the violent motion sickness for what felt like forever, Luna—still pale—pushed streams of multicolored energy into me.
"What is this... A human soul and body changing in real time? This is... adaptation?"
Luna's sharp eyes were spot on.
Indeed, amid the brutal sickness, I could vaguely sense changes unfolding in real time within my soul and flesh.
If I'd been in a normal human state, my brain would've overloaded in seconds—blood gushing from every orifice as I died.
Thanks to Luna's healing, at least, the horrific nausea was gradually ebbing.
About five minutes of full-body convulsions later.
As the disorienting gap slowly became familiar, I drew in short breaths.
"What did you do to rattle your soul like that... And what is this?"
She flinched, as if sensing the massive presence now rooted inside me.
This time around, what was the energy serving as fuel?
The Hall of Spirit Swords suggested something aura-related, but surprisingly, the power I'd gained interfaced with necromana—yet wasn't necromana. It was something utterly strange.
Vitality? Too alien for that. Plain necromana? No, not quite.
Gazing at the intangible energy swirling like a dance above my palm, I delved into the memory.
How the hell did I even know about this stuff?
What the Hall of Spirit Swords had granted me was a warehouse overflowing with weapons.
Swords, spears, axes. All sorts, but nothing of exceptional quality—just run-of-the-mill gear.
At first, I'd assumed it was swordsmanship-related.
But it wasn't.
The power I'd just obtained. For now, I'd named it [Spirit Energy].
"Gonna need to run some tests."
As I rose slowly, Luna grabbed the back of my neck.
"Rest."
"No, I'm good. It's not bad. Just motion sickness from the power amplification."
"...What do you need to do? I'll help."
"Can't use the ghost sword, so let's make a sword first."
At least one thing was clear.
Whatever the specifics of the Hall of Spirit Swords memory, based on the others—and my own instincts—this was a strikingly novel kind of power.
For me, forging a sword wasn't some grand display of technique.
Blacksmithing boiled down to heating metal and hammering it into shape.
With the Machine God's heart—which comprehended and reshaped metal structures, forms, and all—that left no need to melt and bash things manually.
Unless I was diving into the craft itself to imbue a specific form.
"What're you up to?"
Luna peered around curiously at the power manifesting from me, unable to hide her fascination.
"Hard to put a name to it... Kinda like child-rearing."
"Child-rearing?"
"Yeah. If the memory's right, it might turn out pretty prickly."
"Leon, did you go and get yourself a fling behind my back?"
"What're you talking about? Why would I cheat with you right here?"
"..."
Her blunt jab hit hard; I pulled an awkward face, wondering if I'd been too forward.
Luna fell silent too.
"Anyway, that's the gist. Tough to explain properly."
Worried about my condition, Luna flew off to the mine on her own and returned with orichalcon from artisan Berus.
Now that mine development had begun, small quantities of orichalcon and mithril were already being extracted.
The amounts were minuscule, but unlike before—when it was impossible to obtain at all—with enough time, we could get some.
That made all the difference.
"Hmm... Not sure if the material really matters."
From the Labyrinthos memories alone, the base weapons had all been plain iron swords.
It was about what the spirit swordsman built up—not the sword's material. Still, for my first creation, better to be careful.
I set the ingots down and manifested the Machine God's heart. I twisted and blended their forms, inducing structural changes.
Only once the molecular structure was mixed to my specs did I reshape it into a fitting claymore size.
"A claymore? Leon, you don't really use claymores, do you?"
"Form doesn't matter. What matters is whether this—what I made—is a sword. Watch."
I finished the hilt with leather and wood, set it on the table, and spread one hand.
Intangible energy gathered above my palm.
Not quite mana, not aura.
Similar to necromana, yet not vitality; impossible to call demonic energy.
And yet, it was the most covertly hidden element among the world's fundamental particles.
[Spirit Energy]
I called it spirit energy, but it might already be an established concept on this continent—with its own name.
Whatever the case, wielding it was tricky—but that was fine.
In the Labyrinthos memories, I'd died tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions of times just mastering spirit energy.
Labyrinthos was a space utterly devoid of conscience. Toss one ordinary weapon and refuse to acknowledge any combat elements beyond spirit swords?
No aura manifested there. No mana.
Only spirit energy existed.
Which was how I'd come to grasp it so well.
I attuned the spirit energy gathered in my hand and let it seep into the orichalcon-alloy claymore.
Light-dust particles began filtering into the blade.
"Hm? This is..."
Luna's expression lit up with interest—she'd noticed the spirit energy too.
Spirit energy was nothing more than particles.
But essential building blocks of this world.
And a spirit swordsman was one who infused those particles into objects of fixed form...
"Awaken."
...breathing life into them. A creator class, through and through.
Though its combat prowess was more alien than anything from the halls I'd seen so far.
Light began spilling from the claymore as spirit energy seeped in.
Like a newborn entering the world, immense vitality radiated from the claymore.
This blade was no longer just a sword.
A living sword.
Yet not alive.
Beyond the concepts of life and death, defying the usual laws of communication and thought that governed ordinary beings.
The claymore soon fully transformed into a sword of breathtaking beauty.
Its overall shape hadn't changed much.
Spirit energies typically caused drastic shifts upon gathering and infusing.
This one seemed to fancy the orichalcon claymore's form.
As I lifted the graceful greatsword—sensing its power—it reacted like a chick beholding its parents for the first time.
I'd braced for prickliness, but this one turned out surprisingly docile.
It couldn't speak.
Couldn't convey intent clearly.
But to its wielder—the one who became its master—it revealed its opinions in its own unique way.
"Your name... Yeah, Nakwha?"
Nakwha...
Falling flower. Not bad.
I sheathed the finished blade in a scabbard I'd prepared ahead of time and headed to the training grounds.
I set up a straw dummy, drew the sword again—and Luna's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she asked,
"Leon, how'd you do that?"
"Beats me. Tough to put into words."
Even I found spirit energy tricky to explain.
Half of it was pure instinct.
"Can I try wielding it?"
"Sure. Wanna hold it?"
Unclear if naming it Nakwha would transfer ownership.
Once a spirit sword's form solidified, it became one with its master.
Practically inseparable...
"Oh, this thing. Got some surprisingly cute quirks."
"..."
Seeing Nakwha now clutched in Luna's grip, thrumming with a sword cry as if nothing had happened—something soured in me.
"No way. Does this even make sense?"
From the Labyrinthos memories, no one had ever broken that rule.
No point dwelling on it.
Spirit swords didn't operate on logic anyway.
In the end, regardless, Luna swung the massive claymore around like a flimsy stick, grinning like a kid.
The bond was still linked to me.
Never saw other humans in Labyrinthos, so it hadn't considered scenarios like this.
Whatever. Time for a test.
I took the sword from Luna, raised it slowly, and swung through empty air.
Then I activated the spirit energy and addressed the blade, now infused with gathered spirit energy and will.
No need to puzzle out the activation phrase.
Gripping it told me instinctively what to say.
"Bloom wildly."
But.
"Huh?"
No change in the sword.
Luna burst out with a "Pfft!"—and I narrowed my eyes.
"Acted all docile at birth, huh? Got a temper after all."
The spirit sword's biggest flaw? As a living aggregate of spirit energy, it sometimes flat-out refused to listen.
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