Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Dedicated Weapon
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The deepest level of the imperial underground. A heavy iron door was shrouded in spiderwebs. With not even a single guard in sight, it seemed true that there was nothing worth stealing inside.
Creaaak—
Turning the rusted key to open the door unleashed a musty wave of dust that hit me full in the face.
"Cough, cough... My apologies. The maintenance has been sorely lacking..."
Elicia bowed her head in embarrassment.
Whatever. I'd expected as much.
I lit a torch and stepped inside. Empty display cases lined the walls. The floors that should have been piled with gold coins were bare, and there was no trace of the famous paintings or artworks that once hung there.
"They really sold every last scrap, didn't they? That's practically a talent."
"I have no excuses. The previous emperors sold them off to overcome the financial crisis..."
"Overcome? More like pouring water into a leaky barrel. Anyway, my stuff should still be here. Not just anyone can use it."
I headed to the farthest corner of the warehouse. There, shoved into a dusty nook, stood a single mannequin. Draped over it was a coat as black as pitch.
It was the gear my comrades and I had worn when we severed the Demon King's head.
"So this is where you were."
I scanned the display stand next to the coat. But something felt off—empty.
"Hey."
"Y-yes!"
"Where are all my artifacts? The mana amplification ring, the teleportation scrolls, the emergency potion pouch, you know."
Elicia averted her eyes and hemmed and hawed.
"Ah, well... The mana amplification ring was traded for flour imports during the great drought a century ago..."
"What? Flour?"
"The people were starving to death. We had no choice..."
Unbelievable. One of only three rings like it on the continent, turned into bread crumbs?
"Fine. What about the teleportation scrolls? I specifically told you never to sell those—they're for emergencies."
"Th-that one... Seventy years ago, the Archmage took it for a restoration experiment and..."
"And?"
"...accidentally burned it, according to the records."
"You goddamn insane bastards...!!"
I clutched the back of my neck. My blood pressure spiked, blurring my vision for a moment.
"Then what about my emergency potion pouch? I stuffed it full of elixirs and universal antidotes! Don't tell me you turned that into flour too?"
"No, not that one! We didn't sell it!"
"Good! At least the potions are safe!"
"Fifty years ago, during the plague, we disassembled the pouch itself for materials to make treatments..."
"......"
I let out a hollow laugh.
"Ha, haha."
"I have no excuses..."
"You really covered all the bases. Scraped the bottom of the barrel clean."
My legendary gear—forged in blood—had been turned into bread, firewood, medicine. The thought of those priceless artifacts swapped for a few sacks of flour burned in my gut like acid.
I rubbed my dry face and steadied myself. Fine, gear can be replaced. Knowledge is different.
"What about the books? The ones I wrote myself. Wizards go crazy for those—you wouldn't have sold them."
"Ah, those books... We didn't sell them!"
"Oh? Where are they?"
"In the incinerator... No, sealed in the forbidden archive."
"What? Sealed?"
As I raised an eyebrow, Elicia hurriedly explained.
"We had no choice! The contents were just too... too..."
"Too what?"
"Too inhumane! Demonic! Blasphemous!"
Elicia squeezed her eyes shut and shouted.
"The Church and the Mage Tower unanimously designated them permanent no-view books, bound them with sacred chains, and posted warnings that anyone who opens them will be dragged off by the Inquisition!"
"......"
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
Thinking back, the titles of my books were a bit... edgy.
Efficient Camp Construction Using Corpses, 101 Torture Techniques to Maximize Pain for Information Extraction, Observations on Elf Mana Circuit Backflow, Principles of Black Magic Creation and Demon Summoning Knowledge, and so on.
Yeah, definitely edgy. In the real world, it'd violate the Geneva Conventions at minimum—life sentence at The Hague material.
But what can you do? Efficiency demands it.
Human rights, war crimes—luxuries for peacetime philosophers.
"Such noble folks."
No matter. I only needed one real prize. Nothing else mattered; no one else could wield it or sell it.
"So where is it?"
"Pardon?"
"My sword, I mean."
The ego sword with a temper from hell.
Demon Sword Levatein.
"Don't tell me you turned that into flour too? Or melted it down for a hoe?"
Elicia shook her head vigorously.
"No! That sword is kept in the innermost part of the treasure vault."
"You didn't sell it?"
"We couldn't sell it!"
She shuddered as she answered.
"Anyone who touches it hears bloodcurdling screams from the blade, and curses spread... Over the past 500 years, not even thieves or imperial custodians dared approach. There's even a record of a thief who broke in, went mad, and stumbled out."
"....."
"It shatters the minds of those who approach and thirsts for blood, so now it's just abandoned... er, enshrined in the corner of the warehouse."
A grin crept across my face as I listened.
Good girl. Stayed faithful waiting for her master. That foul temper comes in handy sometimes.
"Let's go."
We headed to the most restricted section of the warehouse, plastered with 'No Entry' signs. The air grew heavier the closer we got. A prickling killing intent and the metallic tang of blood enveloped us.
"Ugh..."
Elicia's lips had turned blue; she stopped, unable to go further. Her legs trembled like she could barely stand.
"Kasian... I'm sorry. I can't... I just can't..."
"Stay there. Don't follow and pass out from the aura drain."
Reluctantly, I left her and pressed on. In the dusty darkness atop a display stand, a shadowy blade pulsed with crimson energy, asserting its presence alone.
"Can't even recognize your master, huh? Sleeping on the job."
I chuckled and reached out. The crushing malice eased the instant my fingers touched it, like a lie. The sheathed demon sword hummed in resonance.
"Kieeeek! Master! Master!"
A shrill, eardrum-shattering screech pierced straight into my mind. True to its ego sword nature, it was losing its shit over our 500-year reunion.
"Kyaho! Master's back! Thought I was gonna die of boredom! Blood! Blood! Gimme blood quick! Thirsty! War! Massacre!!"
"Shut up, you crazy knife. Turn down the telepathy volume."
I grimaced and gripped the hilt tight. The cool, familiar texture wrapped around my palm.
Crackle!
500 years of dust and rust on the sheath shattered and scattered under the surging red malice. The demon sword trembled like a puppy wagging its tail, reacting to my mana.
"Finally getting outta this moldy dump?!"
"Who should we slice first? Hmm? Lotsa tasty-smelling meat out there! Let's kill 'em all!"
Still as bloodthirsty as ever. I sheathed the sword at my waist and strolled back toward the exit. Elicia, spotting me, widened her eyes and backed away.
"That demon sword... handled like it's nothing..."
To her, I must've looked like a guy casually carrying a live bomb. And rightly so—this blade was classified as cursed in imperial histories, dubbed the Sword of Catastrophe.
"Nothing to be shocked about. It's mine. Even dogs don't bite their owners."
"But... the records say it corrupts the user's mind just by touch, leading to ruin..."
"Corrupts? Nah, that's exaggerated."
I shrugged and secured it at my hip.
"Train it right, and there's no better tool. Especially for politics."
"Politics?"
"Hey, Princess. Know what I did first with this thing back in the day?"
"...Slay the Demon King?"
"Nah. Way before that."
I grinned and tossed out a chilling joke.
"During the war, there was this neighboring 'Rotun Kingdom' threatening the Empire. Ever hear of it?"
"In history books. Destroyed by sudden internal strife..."
"Guess who sparked that strife?"
I tapped the sheath.
"Rotun was stronger than us back then, but their king was a paranoid wreck. We'd have lost the war for sure. So I volunteered as an envoy. And gifted him this sword."
"A—a gift? This demon sword? To an enemy king?"
"Yep. Of course, plain as it was, he wouldn't take it. So I studded the sheath with flashy gems, spun some line about it being the Empire's finest blade, symbol of absolute royal authority. The idiot king lapped it up, grinning ear to ear."
"Kihit! That was fun! That king flipped out and offed 'em all himself!"
With the demon sword's cackling as background noise, I continued.
"But a week later, guess what happened?"
Elicia swallowed hard and shook her head.
"This blade whispered in the king's ear every night. 'Your ministers are plotting rebellion.' 'The queen's poisoning you.' 'The general's after your head.'"
Hallucinations and nightmares. Levatein's specialty: mental corruption. Weak humans crack in three days.
"The king went mad and beheaded his best generals and loyalists himself. We took the kingdom without lifting a finger."
"......"
Color drained from Elicia's face. She stared at me, eyes swirling with horror, shock, and cognitive dissonance.
"Just kidding. Relax. I pitched that plan to the old emperor, but he shot it down for violating chivalry."
"Ah...! As expected. I really thought for a moment that you, Kasian..."
Of course, it wasn't a joke. Results speak louder; everyone shuts up when you win.
I buried the truth and eyed my gear on the mannequin.
Longcoat of black dragon leather. Gloves of abyss beast hide.
"Hm."
Faint scent of old blood and mana. I slung the coat over my shoulders. Perfect fit, unchanged. Like it had been waiting for me—it molded to my frame.
Click, click.
Buttoned up, gloved on, demon sword at my hip. I stood before a dusty full-length mirror.
A man in a flowing black coat, ominous blade at his side. Mirror me screamed final boss.
'Savior my ass. Looks like a world-ender.'
Satisfied, I slicked back my hair and turned.
"Let's go."
"Where to, sir? Strategy meeting...?"
"Meeting? Nah."
I jerked my chin toward the distant walls visible through the window, beyond them.
"Elves crawled right up to our doorstep, didn't they?"
I grinned.
"Time to teach 'em some manners."