Chapter 312: Masterpiece (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 312: Masterpiece (3)
Marquis Valentino found his own question absurd.
He desperately hoped Roman Dmitry would deny that this sword—a blade that had thrown him into a state of sheer ecstasy—was merely a low-grade piece.
However.
"It is true that it is relatively the least complete work," Roman replied. "However, I do not consider its quality to be 'low-grade.' It is simply that my understanding deepened during the crafting process, leading to a step-by-step increase in perfection. The swords of the No-Name Series are several levels more advanced than anything I have forged before."
It was an astounding answer.
Speechless, Marquis Valentino stared at the Third No-Name once more, his eyes trembling.
It was perfect.
He couldn't comprehend what part of it was supposedly lacking. From a collector's perspective, no form more perfect than this existed. The razor-sharp edge, the flawless grip—furthermore, its capacity to accept mana undeniably shattered the standards of what people called a famous sword.
He swallowed hard.
If the man standing before him had been anyone other than Roman Dmitry... he would have raised his voice and told him to stop bluffing. But considering who he was dealing with, he sought the truth with the utmost caution.
"…Then, by any chance, may I see the fourth and final sword?"
"Very well."
There was no hesitation in the reply.
For an artisan, presenting their work to someone who truly appreciated its value was just as delightful as the forging process itself.
Hans brought the sword forward.
As the blade was drawn from its scabbard and held up to the light, Marquis Valentino's eyes grew dazed.
"…Ah."
A breathless groan of awe escaped his lips. The moment he saw the steel reflecting the light, the doubts cluttering his mind vanished instantly.
To think such a sword exists in this world.
There was a legendary saying among collectors regarding pieces that transcended their value as mere collectibles. Items worthy of being called true treasures emitted a magical allure that captivated people at first glance. In those moments, complex appraisal procedures and measuring devices were unnecessary. It was said that simply by looking at and touching such an item, an electric thrill coursing through one's body would instantly reveal its true worth.
That was exactly what was happening now.
His hands trembled as he caressed the blade; Marquis Valentino could not hide his sheer awe.
Now I understand why Roman Dmitry described the No-Name Series as experimental works. To create such a treasure, the process itself must have been a work of art. Roman Dmitry has entered a realm completely out of reach for a normal artisan. To purchase his swords, collectors will scream themselves hoarse, offering exorbitant premiums without a moment's hesitation.
Even a sword worth a single gold coin would command ten if it bore Roman Dmitry's name. Such an era was dawning.
It was just as he had expected. When he first purchased Blaze, Marquis Valentino had factored in the symbolic value of it being 'Roman Dmitry's work.' Back then, many had called it a reckless decision to invest 1,200 gold coins in what seemed like an ordinary sword. But if he were to put Blaze on the market today, it would easily fetch double that amount.
The problem was, this wasn't necessarily good news for the Marquis.
For a collector who never resold his acquisitions, the sheer value of the No-Name Series foretold a grueling future.
…An astronomical sum will be required to win the bid for the Third No-Name. Just the symbolism of it being a stepping stone to this perfect sword will have collectors rushing in with fire in their eyes.
He fell into deep agony. An outcome that was too perfect had ironically brought him turmoil.
It was then that Roman Dmitry's voice reached his ears.
"The name of the final sword is Disaster."
Disaster.
It was a fitting name. The enemies who faced that blade would truly feel as though a natural disaster had descended upon them.
* * *
That day, Marquis Valentino left Dmitry with these parting words:
"Disaster is a masterpiece so perfect that I dare not even dream of purchasing it. A famous sword like that will only shine with its true value in the hands of Lord Roman Dmitry. However, I fully intend to win the bid for the Third No-Name, the starting point that led to Disaster. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to prepare in advance."
His expression was solemn and resolute.
As if staking his very life on it, Marquis Valentino left Dmitry utterly determined to win the auction.
With that situation mostly sorted out, Roman Dmitry went to meet the person he had in mind as the new master of Darkness.
"…Why are you giving this to me?"
It was Rodwell Dmitry. Wearing an eyepatch over his ruined eye, he looked at Roman with a puzzled expression.
"I have many swords better than this one," Roman said. "But the reason I am giving it to you is because I want you—my brother, and the only one who can fill my absence—to carry its symbolism."
Dmitry had become a nation. In a state-level power structure, sharing the same bloodline as Roman Dmitry was an extremely important factor. Chris, Kevin—there was a symbolic weight to family that even the most loyal vassals could not replace.
Rodwell Dmitry had resolved to fill his brother's absence, but he did not yet possess the qualifications to do so. Whether in terms of martial prowess or leadership, he fell far short. Aside from the symbolism of being Roman Dmitry's brother, there was no reason for the people of Dmitry to follow him.
"Rodwell. Dmitry stands on the edge of a cliff. The moment we take even a single step back in our confrontation with the Kronos Empire, we will fall into the abyss and meet a miserable end. In my absence, we need a firm leader to take my place. Therefore, take this sword and grow strong. Even when I am not here, become a pillar of strength that everyone trusts, so that your very existence can reassure our people."
"…You know very well that's impossible. No matter how hard I try, I can never perfectly replace you, Brother."
All this time, Rodwell Dmitry had worked relentlessly. He had struggled desperately to fill Roman's shoes, but he had failed to prevent the deaths of people like Henderson on the day the Kronos Empire attacked. At that moment, he realized the truth. Contrary to his strong will, he could never become Roman Dmitry. His brother's overwhelming might and the formidable enemy that was the Kronos Empire had clearly shown Rodwell just how insignificant he was.
That was why he could not accept the sword. Even if he inherited its symbolism, he felt far too pathetic to wield it.
However, Roman simply said, "Let me tell you an interesting story. The martial art known as the Flame Divine Art has a special capability. It allows me to share a portion of my heat, but only with a blood relative. From now on, I will infuse the Fire Demon's Flames into you. It is a mere fraction of power, nothing more than a tiny seed. But if you accept the Fire Demon's Flames and make them sprout, you will undeniably become incomparably stronger than before."
Roman Dmitry said he could make him strong.
Past experience told Rodwell that those words were not a lie.
"Choose," Roman said. "If you refuse, we will act as if this never happened."
It was a question with an already decided answer. If only for the future of Dmitry, Rodwell yearned to become stronger than he was now.
"I'll do it. If I can become strong, I'll do whatever it takes."
* * *
It was simple.
The Fire Demon's Flames.
The moment Roman infused a portion so small it could truly be described as minuscule, Rodwell Dmitry's eyes flew wide open.
Whoosh!
"Gah?!"
An immense pain surged through him. Starting from where the flames entered, it felt as if all his internal organs were burning. Specifically, it felt as though molten lava had been poured directly into his Dantian, causing him to clutch his abdomen. His face flushed crimson. Burying his face in the ground, he groaned and trembled violently, curling up into a tight ball.
It was agonizing.
Even for Rodwell, who thought he was accustomed to pain, this was an unfamiliar, unbearable agony.
It was only a fraction of power. Yet, the Fire Demon's Flames possessed a might that no ordinary human could withstand. Had Roman not carefully blended it with the heat of the Flame Divine Art before infusing it, Rodwell's fragile body would have already burned to ashes.
"…Ugh, argh."
He clenched his teeth. Though his eyes felt as if they would pop out of his skull, Rodwell did not utter a single plea for the pain to stop.
He wanted to be strong.
When the Kronos Empire attacked Dmitry, he had played his part in his own way. But that was all. He couldn't dare face enemies like Sven, who had driven Kevin and Henderson to the brink of death, and he had been reduced to a mere bystander when Roman Dmitry waged total war against the Empire.
He knew his place. He knew that, aside from bearing the Dmitry name, there was no room for him to play an active role in this war.
It was devastating. As a member of the family, he wanted to do something—anything—for Dmitry.
Having always strived to be the best due to his father's excessive expectations, Rodwell found the helplessness of his current weakness unbearable. If one were to ask who remained in the training grounds late into the night every single day, most would name Rodwell Dmitry. He had worked relentlessly, but because the shadow he had to fill was so overwhelmingly grand, his efforts seemed like nothing.
So he endured.
He would seize this opportunity.
Rodwell was not the type of person to sit back and enjoy the wealth and glory cast by his brother's shadow. Even if it was foolish, he wanted to fulfill his duty. Having carried the heavy responsibilities of the eldest son since childhood, that was simply the kind of man he was.
His body trembled violently. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself conscious, flooding his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. Yet, even amidst the ceaseless waves of pain, Rodwell stubbornly swallowed the searing heat.
He was incredibly tenacious. Having fought to the bitter end even while losing an eye in the war against Kronos, he possessed a mental fortitude that transcended the limits of ordinary men. As time passed, his will became as hard as steel. Even under the relentless hammering of pain, even as his face contorted in agony, he refused to let go of his consciousness.
That sight pleased Roman Dmitry.
In this new life, those who called him family were not merely relatives in name who forced him into fratricidal wars, but people he could truly trust. How delightful this was. If Rodwell had coveted power beyond his station even in the slightest, his head would have rolled long before he could obtain an opportunity like today's.
That was the kind of person Baek Joong-hyuk was.
To accept family as true family, how one viewed the boundaries of loyalty was far more important than mere bloodlines. Rodwell Dmitry had proven he belonged inside that boundary. To a brother who thought purely of Dmitry's future, Roman presented a path forward.
Finally...
"…Ugh."
The pain subsided.
As color returned to his face, a faint, fiery energy settled deep within Rodwell's Dantian. He had not yet fully regained his senses, but through his hazy consciousness, Roman's voice drifted in.
"The martial art I will teach you from now on is called the Flame Divine Art, and the sword style is the Flame Sword Technique."
A sword technique born from the Fire Demon's Flames. Its new master was none other than Rodwell Dmitry.
* * *
Immediately after Marquis Valentino returned to his estate, a family meeting was convened.
Upon learning the agenda, his vassals reacted with bewilderment.
"What do you mean by this, My Lord?"
"To suddenly withdraw from the jewelry business when it's going so well? Right after the war, we purchased a significant amount of gemstones to target noblewomen seeking luxury goods. If we proceed with processing them through our contracted artisans, we stand to reap no small profit. Why on earth are you making such a sudden decision?"
"We need an explanation. Even if it is not our primary enterprise, we have never abruptly abandoned an operation like this."
The opposition was fierce.
The jewelry trade was not the Valentino family's main source of income. While they dealt in various industries such as steel, foodstuffs, and transportation, they had never shown much interest in gems. The reason was clear: the Valentino family pursued businesses targeted at the general public, whereas the clientele for luxury goods was far too limited. It did not align with their usual ventures.
This time had been an exception. Taking advantage of the unique post-war economy, it was meant to be a highly profitable one-off venture. Yet now, the Marquis was suddenly declaring the withdrawal of all funds from the operation.
All eyes focused on him.
One of the vassals asked in a serious tone, "Is there a problem we are unaware of?"
The atmosphere grew grave. If the family was in trouble, the vassals were ready to put their heads together and resolve the crisis.
Under the intense gaze of his subordinates, Marquis Valentino spoke with an incredibly solemn expression.
"It is an extremely critical matter. To win the bid for Lord Roman Dmitry's sword—the one I mentioned before—a mere three to four thousand gold coins will not be enough. Therefore, I will liquidate all funds invested in the jewelry business and pour that capital into the auction."
His tone was resolute.
For a moment, the vassals severely doubted their own ears.