Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Insufficient
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Not enough?
Ebram's holy sword required the blood of a corrupted priest to be completed.
Following the story so far, in the original tale, they must have used the blood of Auriell—who possessed the qualities of a saintess but had fallen into "lascivious corruption"—to finish it.
But I, Ezra Drake, had no intention of doing such a thing.
As a pirate, I'd committed just about every crime under the sun.
Even now, anyone who crossed me ended up at the bottom of the sea.
And I had a reputation for not paying for food that didn't suit my taste.
But even for a man like me,
I knew what true evil was—the kind I could never tolerate.
Betrayal.
The worst act of trampling on someone's heart.
I had no desire to wield a filthy weapon forged from such treachery, no matter how magnificent it might be.
Especially if that betrayal went beyond mere friends or comrades...
If it crushed the heart of someone you could call family, all the more so.
That was the best conclusion I'd reached, guided by my personal convictions.
And at this very moment,
it was being carried out by the high and mighty nobles of this land, trembling in fear as they obeyed my command.
"St... stop!! Please... please, just stop!"
"Sh... shut your mouth!"
"It's because of you that we're in this mess! Atone with your death!"
With all their underlings defeated, the nobles were personally hauling the hefty holy sword.
At its tip was Bishop Juda, bound tightly to the floor.
The mastermind behind Auriell's betrayal—and the one who'd dragged me into this mess in the first place.
Right now, he was wailing, snot and tears streaming down his face,
but there was no one left here to help him.
Even his subordinate priest was shaking like a leaf while opening the holy book to complete the sword.
And so, the blade of that razor-sharp holy sword began slicing into the belly of the bishop,
who was now betrayed in turn by the very scheme he'd orchestrated.
Blood sprayed amid the priest's recitation of some incomprehensible passage.
In response,
an ominous energy began to surge from Ebram's holy sword.
And then...
'Oh ho... it actually works?'
Honestly, even as we proceeded, I'd been half-doubting it.
Unlike Auriell, who radiated the pure aura of a saintess and nun,
this bishop didn't quite meet the "corrupted priest" criteria—his base specs were lacking, to say the least.
Still, since he was portrayed as a fairly strong boss in the original story, I'd held some hope,
and sure enough, the holy sword eagerly absorbed his blood and soul without issue.
"Aaaah... aaaahhh... grr... aaaah... a... aaaah..."
The ear-piercing screams faded as Bishop Juda's body began to shrivel.
What had been a plump, middle-aged man twisted and dried up like a mummy... or a piece of jerky.
In the end, the bishop became a desiccated husk, drained of blood and soul by the divine sword,
his body crumbling to dust in the wind.
And at the center of those disintegrating remains...
stood Ebram's holy sword, radiating an unmistakably eerie aura.
No longer a mere iron blade, it now flickered with subtle blue flames.
I reached out,
grasped the hilt, and effortlessly pulled it free.
A surge of intense mana hit me instantly.
Along with a sensation like my mind linking to it, the sword's powers and abilities became clear.
But... as I examined the details, I couldn't help but frown slightly.
'Hmm... still not enough, huh.'
The base power was impressive, but not transcendent.
More importantly, in the original story, Ebram's holy sword gleamed with brilliant blue light, like a blade of pure radiance.
The one in my hand now was merely wreathed in blue flames—stronger than before the ritual, sure,
but whether due to his inherently poor specs or long-term corruption, it fell short of the original's might.
'The bishop wasn't enough after all... in that case... right here...'
With that thought, I glanced sideways.
"H... how is it?"
A young noble asked, his face rigid with tension.
In response,
I gave him the honest truth in a serious tone.
"Not enough?"
"P... pardon?"
"Still needs more blood."
"...I... is that... so?... How regrettable..."
"It is, truly regrettable. For this precious holy sword to remain a flawed product, unable to reclaim its true power. His Holiness the Pope would be deeply disappointed. So, about that..."
With those words, I slowly aimed the sword at the noble.
"!"
"Wh... why are you doing this? We... we did everything you asked! So why..."
"Why? You said it yourself. You'd do anything for the holy relic's completion. You have to take responsibility for your own words, right?"
"!... N... no way..."
The nobles' faces drained of color as they finally grasped my meaning.
Grinning wickedly at the would-be rapists, I said,
"Come on, everyone—let's get to it. We have to complete it, right? The holy relic."
"...Haa..."
Auriell let out a heavy sigh on the outskirts of the mansion.
At this moment, three or four masked figures—pirates, no doubt—stood guard around her, just like that man.
The difference was their clown masks, unlike his black crow one.
Amid their silent vigil,
Auriell pondered this absurd situation once more.
'How did my life end up like this...?'
She'd been betrayed overnight by a man like a father to her,
and nearly gang-raped to death because of it.
Yet the one who'd saved her—and was now protecting her—was the infamous Pirate King.
Until today, she'd viewed priests like Bishop Juda as paragons of virtue and pirates as irredeemable villains...
But this experience had shattered those beliefs from the ground up.
And with the Pope entangled in this mess, once the full story came out, she could no longer live as a church nun.
Having lost her home, her faith—everything in ruins...
She...
after much deliberation, reached one decision.
A choice she would've deemed insane just hours ago...
But now, surprisingly, not so bad.
That decision...
"...That's it, huh."
The holy sword showed no further reaction, having absorbed the maximum blood and souls needed for completion.
After pulling it from the last victim—whose body remained intact despite being impaled—I checked its specs again.
The blue flames burned a bit brighter than before.
But they still weren't as radiant as in the original, and overall performance lagged behind.
It now held healing magic, but nothing for status ailments or full recovery—just basic wound treatment.
And the cooldown was a lengthy two hours, even longer than before.
The buffs were limited to attack power boosts, and the stat increases weren't overwhelmingly high.
It was a fine sword, but inevitably disappointing.
Forcing it to grow on junk food instead of the proper nourishment had its limits, it seemed.
'Well, can't be helped. It's not bad at all.'
A downgraded version, perhaps, but I'd achieved one major goal. Smiling at that,
I surveyed the surroundings.
The highborn had been slaughtered to the last.
Thanks to the sword's evidence-erasing effect, those drained to death had turned to ash and vanished—leaving just this one corpse behind.
Even as a saintess substitute, the sword had devoured greedily;
every would-be rapist and accomplice here had become its fodder, save this final one.
Yet its suboptimal performance reaffirmed just how extraordinary Auriell was.
Enough to make me covet her talents personally.
'Well... that zealot girl wouldn't join pirates like us...'
For one, I'd openly defied her god, and as a priestess, she'd never side with criminals like us.
Unlike Mazelan's crew, who shared a similar vibe, our core natures were worlds apart.
Thinking how truly wasteful it was to lose such talent,
I set a small fire for the final cleanup and slipped out of the garden.
And then...
"Take me as your comrade... no, your subordinate."
"..."
The utterly unexpected turn of events left me speechless for a moment.