Chapter 37: The Whereabouts of the Holy Sword
“An admission ticket?!”
“What do you think I went looking for it for?”
“Then... you intend to challenge the myth itself...”
“That's right.”
A glint of light sparked in Amon's eyes. He was probably wondering why someone who already had no equal would risk challenging the myth when his current power was more than enough. Truth be told, I wasn't thrilled about diving straight into a myth challenge either. But that was exactly what the gods wanted.
The motif for the Holy Sword Veratus came from the legend of King Arthur. Among the Britons, the tale persisted that only the true king could draw Excalibur. The author had borrowed that and woven it into the novel. In volume 3 of my own novel, Knight of Herculean Strength, the protagonist challenges a legend to absorb the Titan Race.
In the myths of the Titan Race from Knight of Herculean Strength, the Creation God's spilled blood hardened into the earth, his tears formed the seas, and he split his soul to create humanity. The first fragment of soul he dropped became the Holy Sword Veratus, and only a warrior chosen by the gods could challenge the legend to claim it.
The gods wanted me to seize Veratus and bring the Titans to their knees. It was based on the myth that the Titans would submit to the knight who wielded it—but would those stubborn brutes really bow to some dusty old legend? In the novel, I'd simplified it for pacing, having the protagonist absorb them all... but would reality play out the same?
Either way, to drive the gods into a frenzy, I had to claim Veratus and subjugate the Titans.
“You plan to bring the Titan Race to heel.”
“You got it.”
“Where, then, does my lord's ambition truly lie?”
“Heh, that's for you to figure out.”
In that moment, Amon's gaze sharpened. He'd made some resolve. But Amon was a seasoned merchant; he wouldn't reveal his thoughts lightly.
“This humble servant shall take his leave.”
“Go ahead.”
Clack.
As he stepped out of the lord's chambers, Amon gasped for breath. He realized this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Viscount Aron, who could single-handedly tear apart tens of thousands of troops, sought even greater power. He yearned to become a war god who dominated the battlefield.
Even now, if Aron rallied his forces and raised an army, swallowing the empire wouldn't be hard. Yet he still pursued strength, which meant his ambitions stretched beyond the empire.
Territory beyond the empire. In the end, that could only mean unifying the continent.
A thrilling shiver ran through him.
“Is now the time to bet everything on one throw?”
In this chaotic age, a merchant couldn't survive by playing it safe and slim. If Amon had lived that way, he'd never have reached his current position. Starting from nothing, he'd always gone all-in when a once-in-a-lifetime chance appeared.
And now, in his later years, he sensed that moment had come again. Viscount Aron would soon devour the empire. His actions made that clear.
What if Amon became part of Aron's regime? It would pave the way to becoming the continent's greatest merchant guild, surpassing even the empire.
The empire's border. Over two months, they'd fully reclaimed the territory lost to the Titans. The bastards had retreated in haste but made off with hordes of slaves and plunder.
If we stopped here without pushing beyond the Great Wall, my reputation would tank. The emperor's orders had been to recover up to the wall, but I had no intention of halting. His decree allowed for the commander's judgment based on circumstances—which meant I could disband or press on at my discretion.
The plains before the Great Wall. Spring had arrived during the march, and sowing would soon begin. Yet the northern region remained chill. It was easy to see why the Titans raided every winter.
Whoooosh.
Even with Phoenix hovering in the air, a faint chill seeped in.
“This place is filthily cold.”
“The north's winters are infamous for their brutality, my lord. That's why the empire halted expansion northward. Surviving the season on this Land of Death is no easy feat for imperial folk.”
“The Titans endure winter thanks to their massive builds, then.”
“Size plays a part, but they've evolved to adapt to the cold, haven't they?”
“Evolved, huh. Kainus, you buy into evolution?”
“The gods created the world and filled it with life, but species change to fit their environments, don't they? That's evolution.”
“You've got some real insight there.”
“Hahaha, you flatter me.”
A dragon was a dragon, after all. Having lived 10,000 years, Kainus might have grasped the principles of evolution to some degree.
The barren fields outside Abram Territory's fortress swarmed with 100,000 troops arrayed in formation. The remaining 50,000 would garrison the border for defense, while emergency conscripts maintained order inland. The empire's north was practically lawless, so reconstruction focused on warding off bandits and monsters.
I ascended the ramparts, followed by my retainers, knights, and the northern lords. Time for the canned speech—no helping it. With the basics planned, we could only charge ahead. Having stripped the northern lords bare and even trained their troops, I couldn't pull any crazier stunts now.
Anyway, the legend challenge loomed soon enough. The gods seemed to be enduring their boredom for that very reason.
“Soldiers of the empire! The Titan scum dared invade our lands, plundering, murdering, and torching villages. If we let them slink away now, they'll return next year, the year after—trapping us in this vicious cycle. Will you stand for it?”
Thud thud!
“No, sir!”
The troops slammed their weapons against the ground. Morale was sky-high, piercing the heavens. Above all, they believed we'd never lose with me on the battlefield.
Shing!
I drew my sword and thrust it skyward.
“Today, by His Imperial Majesty's command, I vow the Titans' extermination! We'll raze their villages, burn them to ash, enslave every last one, and erase them as a threat forever!”
“Waaaaah!”
“Advance!”
Thud! Thud!
The soldiers pounded their weapons and marched. Good enough.
I turned to the northern lords.
“What about you traitors?”
“Ahem, Commander! We're no traitors—we'll prove it!”
“How?”
“We'll march with you!”
“I'll be watching. With evidence of collusion with the Titans, you'll need merits to wash away even a fraction of your sins.”
“Leave it to us!”
Their eyes burned with fervor. I didn't even need to prod; vengeance already blazed in the northern lords. This Titan raid had stripped them of everything. With so many subjects enslaved, they'd collapse without a fight. Even without revenge, they had to march to rescue their people.
A lord's power stemmed from land and population. Without people, you couldn't train knights or soldiers. That was the road to ruin. Money could be scraped together, but people? Not so easily—especially in the sparsely populated north.
The lords mobilized willingly. With their forces marching north, my job was done.
We'd cross High Pass to the Titans' final stronghold, Dark Bear City—their capital. Once there, flashing the Holy Sword Veratus would let me sweep them clean, ending my northern mission. Then back to the capital for title and land grants, and home to the territory.
Might miss sowing season at this rate. Wheat was normally sown in October, harvested May-June. But in my novel, it was spring planting, fall harvest—eastern empire climate differed from Korea's, simplified for ease.
Plus, I had growth potions that matured crops in a week. Godly cheats defying nature. Even late sowing should be fine. Still, better return before fall.
As I pondered territory build-up and prepped for travel—
Knock knock.
“Come in.”
“Commander, sir.”
“Hm? What are you lot doing here?”
It was Marquis Recid and his faction. No clue why they'd come.
“If you're here to assassinate me, forget it—it's impossible.”
“Perish the thought! How could we dare assassinate God's warrior?”
“Hm. Not burning with hatred for me?”
Thud!
Marquis Recid and his cronies dropped to their knees. This was awkward.
“No need for theatrics—I'll report your crimes lightly to His Majesty anyway.”
“Commander! We wish to join your grand ambition!”
“And what's that supposed to be?”
“Pushing beyond the empire!”
“You all high or something? What's with the sudden change?”
They slammed their foreheads to the ground.
“Please accept our loyalty!”
“Sheesh.”
How to take this? As Recid suddenly swore fealty, the bored gods focused in. Absorbing northern power would make devouring the empire smoother—hence their interest.
Mahadev had a point. Whatever their game, if they turned hostile, I'd just kill them. No need to overthink.
“Marquis Recid, your head didn't get scrambled from all those beatings, did it? Explain why you're swearing loyalty to me, and I'll judge.”