Chapter 433: The Realm of Art (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 433: The Realm of Art (3)
For an entire month, Marquis Valentino had waited for this exact moment.
Watching Roman Dmitry's work reach its climax, he held his breath, terrified that even the slightest sound might disrupt the process. His heart pounded like a drum. Finally, as the silence of dawn settled over the forge and Roman Dmitry stepped outside, Valentino found himself drawn forward as if possessed.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
Having spent so much time exposed to the elements, his physical condition was a mess, but his mind had completely transcended his physical limits.
"Y-Your Imperial Majesty... is it finished?"
His frozen lips barely managed to form the words.
As Valentino struggled to speak, Roman Dmitry looked at him in silence. He knew exactly what the man wanted.
Marquis Valentino. As Cairo's greatest tycoon—a man whose sole purpose in life was collecting—there was no way Roman didn't know why he had waited out here in such a disheveled state. He was truly an amusing fellow. A man of Valentino's stature could easily hold his head high anywhere in Cairo, yet here he was, waiting like a beggar just to catch a glimpse of a single sword. Roman Dmitry did not reject passionate people, even if they were eccentric.
Shhh.
Roman offered no explanation. He simply handed over the sword in silence.
Marquis Valentino stared at it, his eyes trembling with raw emotion.
"Ah..."
A soft gasp escaped his lips. Glinting under the pale moonlight, the blade instantly captivated his gaze. Its sleek, seamless form was breathtaking. It was subtly different from the swords Roman had crafted before. Beyond its flawless physical perfection, it possessed a magical allure that made a man's blood boil.
With trembling hands, Valentino accepted the weapon.
Snap.
It felt incredibly smooth. The way the hilt fit perfectly in his grip, its ideal weight, and the tingling vibration of mana pulsing through the steel made him bite his lip.
He tasted copper.
Yet, Marquis Valentino was so utterly spellbound that he didn't even realize he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Honestly, he had believed Roman Dmitry would never be able to craft a sword superior to Disaster. Disaster was simply that perfect. But without a doubt, the blade before his eyes completely eclipsed it.
A mana test? A durability test?
There was absolutely no need for such trivial things. His intuition as a supreme collector told him everything he needed to know. Hell, even a homeless beggar on the street would recognize how extraordinary this sword was at a single glance.
His mind spun. In truth, the past month hadn't been difficult for him at all. Even though sleeping outdoors was cold and uncomfortable, simply watching Roman Dmitry work had melted all his grievances away. And now, with the final masterpiece revealed like the finishing stroke on a dragon painting, Marquis Valentino felt fully rewarded for every second he had spent in the dirt.
This was it. Because he wanted to see the final product before anyone else, he had gladly cast aside his noble standing.
It was then.
"The sword's name is Spirit."
"Spirit... What a beautiful name for a sword."
Spirit. He engraved the word into his very soul.
Just as he was feeling deeply grateful to Roman Dmitry for understanding his heart and letting him hold the blade, Marquis Valentino's gaze was involuntarily drawn to something else.
It was another sword.
Come to think of it, Roman Dmitry had crafted one sword at the very beginning before fully dedicating himself to Spirit. If so... what was that other sword? Spirit was obviously meant for Roman Dmitry's personal use, so it wouldn't be for sale, but that other one might be different.
"...Would it be possible to see that sword as well?"
His eyes gleamed with insatiable greed. In his mind, he was already imagining himself happily adding that blade to his 'Roman Dmitry Collection.' His reason was completely paralyzed. Having witnessed such a shocking masterpiece, Marquis Valentino had momentarily forgotten a truth he already knew.
"You may not examine that one."
The words struck like a bolt from the blue. As Marquis Valentino stared in despair, Roman Dmitry calmly took back Spirit.
"That sword already has a designated owner. Therefore, the first person to lay eyes upon it must be its master."
*
Morning broke.
Crowds gathered upon hearing that Roman Dmitry had finally finished his work. Under their watchful eyes, Roman fulfilled the promise he had made a month ago.
"This is the sword I promised you."
"...Thank you, my Lord."
The man kneeling on the ground was Kevin.
Receiving the sword from Roman Dmitry, Kevin examined every detail of the blade with an overwhelmed expression. It was an incredible weapon. Having crossed the line between life and death countless times, he instantly recognized the immense value of the blade Roman had bestowed upon him.
It was a deeply moving moment. Roman could have easily brushed off a request for a sword from a mere subordinate, but instead, he had publicly showcased the entire crafting process to everyone in Dmitry. Kevin knew he would never forget that sight. Knowing that the masterpiece forged amidst roaring flames was meant solely for him filled his chest with overwhelming emotion.
"Your Imperial Majesty once told me that you would use me, a mere boy from the slums, as your sword. From that moment on, my life belonged to you. Whether it be Kronos or the demons of the Abyss, no matter what enemies block your path, I will always remain your sword."
He bowed his head deeply. Seeing Kevin declare his absolute loyalty, Roman Dmitry smiled faintly.
It was a heartwarming scene. While the onlookers whispered about how wonderful it was, there was one person who couldn't bring himself to smile.
It was none other than Marquis Valentino.
Roman Dmitry had kept his word. He had crafted a new sword, Spirit, and handed over Disaster as promised. However, ever since seeing Spirit, the symbolic value of Disaster had vanished from Valentino's mind. Of course, its status as the sword used to conquer the continent was legendary.
The problem was that humans are greedy creatures, and the grass is always greener on the other side.
Glance.
He looked at Kevin's sword. It was alluring. It was desirable. Though not on the level of Spirit, a sword infused with even a fraction of that enlightenment was clearly superior to Disaster.
Shift.
He looked down at Disaster. This, too, was incredible. And yet, it felt lacking.
Glance.
His stomach churned.
Shift.
This was definitely a great option, too.
Glance.
Shift.
Glance.
Shift.
After alternating his gaze between the two swords several times, Marquis Valentino smacked his own forehead and let out a lamenting sigh.
"What an absolute idiot. I should have just commissioned a completely separate sword for myself! If I had, that sword would be mine, and Disaster would be mine too!"
It was undeniable. The greedy collector was truly an insatiable glutton.
*
Later that day, Marquis Valentino went to see Kevin.
He offered to pay literally any amount Kevin wanted if he would sell the sword, but Kevin replied with a cold, piercing glare.
"I refuse. This sword is mine. As long as I draw breath, this sword will never belong to anyone else."
His tone was absolute. Faced with a reaction so fierce it bordered on hostility, Marquis Valentino realized that someone like Kevin could never be swayed by money.
He let out a deep, heavy sigh. If he had never laid eyes on Spirit, it would have been fine, but now that he had, his body could no longer be satisfied with just Disaster. God was cruel. If only He had given him a little less greed, Marquis Valentino could have lived a perfectly content life.
For the next few days, he fell into deep thought. As he suffered from his unquenchable desire, he heard an unexpected piece of gossip from his acquaintances.
"Have you heard about Count Pettison? He had an important deal, but he arrived late and completely ruined it. Yet, he was smiling as if nothing happened—it was so absurd. Well, I suppose it makes sense. Getting 500 gold in exchange for ruining one relationship is a pretty good deal, isn't it?"
At that moment, enlightenment struck him like lightning.
Yes. Nothing is impossible with money. If something seems impossible, it just means you don't have enough money.
Life is unpredictable. Just maybe... a moment might come when even Kevin desperately needed money. If he could offer an astronomical sum that Kevin simply couldn't refuse, wouldn't even that stubborn swordsman's heart waver? He wasn't talking about the near future, like a year or two from now. When Kevin grew old and could no longer swing a sword, he might seek a peaceful retirement and reconsider what to do with the weapon.
Of course, Valentino deliberately ignored the high probability that he himself would grow old and die first.
It was a sliver of hope. But to seize that opportunity when it finally arrived, he needed to be fully prepared. He immediately gathered his top executives.
Standing before them, Marquis Valentino declared:
"For the time being, I will dedicate myself entirely to the trading company. I will make the Valentino family the wealthiest on the entire continent. We will amass a fortune unprecedented in human history—wealth that surpasses even the Golden Bank, which once wielded its financial might like a 7-Star Aura!"
Could anyone have predicted it? That this sudden, manic resolution, which struck like a bolt from the blue, would usher in the absolute golden age of the Valentino family.
In later years, historians would say: The line between a pioneer and a madman is paper-thin.
*
Amidst these events, while Roman Dmitry was publicly forging his swords, there was someone else who felt a completely different emotion from Marquis Valentino.
"...How time flies," Romero Dmitry murmured.
As he gazed out the window of his study, he recalled a conversation he'd had with Hendrick.
"To be completely honest, His Imperial Majesty has far surpassed your level, Lord Romero, back when you were called Dmitry's greatest blacksmith. The swords he crafts belong to a completely new realm, unprecedented in history, and even I am learning a great deal from watching him. Life is truly unpredictable. Just a few years ago, wasn't the prevailing opinion that the Dmitry family's blacksmithing lineage would end with you?"
Hearing that his son had surpassed him brought a warm smile to his face.
Since the roots of the Dmitry family lay in the forge, Romero Dmitry had always hoped that at least one of his three sons would carry on the legacy of blacksmithing. However, reality had not gone according to his wishes. Rodwell Dmitry had shown some interest, but Romero knew it didn't come from the heart.
Yet, he couldn't force them.
Blacksmithing. No matter how fundamental it was to their roots, the moment they acquired a noble title, the gaze of their peers had turned cold. The nobility looked down on the forge as vulgar work. Thus, it had always remained a lingering ache in his heart.
But now, knowing that his eldest son—who had once been his greatest source of worry—had carried on that legacy, he couldn't help but feel genuinely overjoyed.
Once, Romero Dmitry had been everything to Dmitry. There was a time when everyone looked up to him, but now, not many missed those days. They merely reminisced about the past from time to time. No one wished for Romero Dmitry to rule Dmitry again.
A soft chuckle escaped him. The fact that he had become a retired old man relegated to the background brought him an indescribable sense of peace.
"This is good."
The sky was clear. That night, Romero Dmitry found it hard to fall asleep. As a father, he would cherish and remember this day for a very long time.
*
A few days passed.
The Dmitry training ground.
While the rest of Dmitry had been buzzing with excitement over Roman Dmitry's work for the past month, there was someone who had shown up here every single day, far away from the commotion. From early morning until the sun went down, he swung his sword until his entire body was drenched in sweat.
Even now, a few days after Roman Dmitry had finished his work, he spent his day no differently than usual.
Whoosh.
Whoosh, whoosh.
A constant rhythm. A consistent force. His eyes gleamed sharply.
Though it was a motion he had performed countless times, Chris did not let his concentration waver for even a single second.
I will not lose to anyone—except for His Imperial Majesty.
With the news of Chris and Kevin participating in the upcoming tournament, public opinion was already divided over who would emerge victorious. Before the war with Kronos, most would have predicted Chris's victory. However, after Kevin defeated Ares, the scales had tipped in Kevin's favor.
He could not accept this. Even if he couldn't surpass his ultimate goal, he had absolutely no intention of becoming a stepping stone for someone else.
He intensified his training. There wasn't much time left. With the scheduled date fast approaching, Chris could not afford to waste a single day.
It was then.
"Sir Chris! Sir Chris!"
In the distance, a soldier came running in a frantic rush. Reaching Chris, the soldier gasped for breath, struggling to calm himself before speaking with a strained face.
"S-Something incredible has just happened!"
"Calm down and get straight to the point."
But there was no staying calm. The news that had just struck Dmitry was bound to have a massive impact on Chris and the entire landscape of the continent.
"Actually, just a moment ago..."
And so the story began. It had started an hour ago.
With Edwin Hector's arrival in Dmitry, an event that would shock the entire continent had just begun to unfold.