The Holy Sword Does Not Break
The holy sword does not break.
One key reason the church could expand its influence was this unbreakable holy sword.
It symbolized unyielding faith and served as concrete proof of divine blessing.
Yet that holy sword had broken.
If word got out, the church's power would suffer a massive blow.
And that was the best-case scenario.
Worse, it could spark claims that Seras had abandoned them, shaking the very foundations of the faith.
But there was something more pressing to address first.
“A sword just sitting there wouldn't break... which means someone swung it, right?”
This was a holy sword.
An especially important one to the church.
They wouldn't wield it lightly.
In other words, there must have been a dire crisis demanding its use.
Petra nodded at my words.
“The Empire made a request. To subjugate the northern great monster, Sestas.”
The northern great monster Sestas.
Even I, tagging along with a slave trader, knew of this infamous beast.
The problem was, it wasn't just any monster.
“S-Sestas? Why? Did they think they could take it down? And before that, Grand Duke Layas would never allow...”
Before I could respond to Petra, Lena jumped in.
Her reaction felt oddly emotional.
But Petra's answer wasn't what Lena hoped for.
“Actually, I heard Grand Duke Layas proposed it to the Empire first, Miss Lena. In exchange for cooperation, he offered full support for expanding the church's influence in the North.”
Lena's face darkened, lost in thought.
In truth, the North was a barren wasteland beyond the church's reach.
To its harsh lands and people, Seras's teachings must have seemed too soft.
A savage land rife with ancestor worship and superstitions, not Seras.
That was the North.
“So they prepared for the subjugation...”
I could guess the rest without her saying it.
The holy sword must have shattered during the fight against Sestas.
Afterward, the church secretly dispatched holy knights to restore it.
Sestas must be even more formidable than I knew.
I'd heard the rumors about the great monster Sestas.
But for a single beast to break a holy sword? That was astonishing.
“Anyway. Sorry, but this ruin didn't have the tech you wanted.”
I told her about Magrid's Legacy.
Petra's expression darkened.
The more we talked, the more gloomy faces appeared.
“A shame. It was our last hope... Still, the church will search for another ruin.”
“There's more besides this one?”
“Hard to find, but... yes. Though that's for the church to handle now. I'm worried. If only a descendant of Magrid would appear...”
Petra let out a long sigh.
She sighed like it was the church's problem, not hers anymore.
She clearly had no intention of returning.
But at the mention of Magrid's descendant, Camilla's ears perked up.
She'd latched onto her chance.
“Found any traces?”
Even in midsummer, biting winds howled.
A man atop the wind-lashed ramparts gazed at the eternal snows at the mountain range's end.
The man with a massive axe on his back replied.
“The trail ends at Baron Sellevan's territory.”
“Sellevan? Ah, a descendant of Mistaine. Could he be involved? What a waste of a name.”
“No, Your Grace.”
The man who wouldn't tear his eyes from the eternal snows.
Layas Ragver, Grand Duke of the North.
The kingdom's strongest sword, guarding its final northern frontline.
One of the kingdom's Aura Masters.
Layas asked.
“No connection? Not even to that ridiculous iron-masked fool?”
“It's... ambiguous.”
“Explain. We've got time.”
The axe-wielding man calmly recounted events in Sellevan's territory.
Layas responded with interest.
“So the slave trader died in Sellevan's lands... and Lena vanished?”
“Yes. The iron mask is likely a crafting mage named Theo. He also seems to have killed an Aura Practitioner in the forest.”
“Wasn't he a 2nd-class mage? Well... possible, I suppose.”
Layas brushed off Theo's feats lightly.
The axeman shot him an incredulous look, borders of insolence be damned.
They seemed genuinely close, beyond rank.
“Possible? He's 2nd-class... and a crafter at that.”
“You saying a 2nd-class mage can't kill an Aura Practitioner?”
“Normally, yes?”
“Tsk tsk. That's why you're just an Expert.”
“Why bring that up again?”
The man bristled.
Layas grew serious.
“Valtor, to become a Master, shatter the mold. You wield an axe—don't tell me you don't get it.”
“Don't cling to common sense, right? But those guys are all insane.”
“Heh, of course! To reach Master, you gotta be mad. No sane Master exists.”
“Even you, Your Grace?”
“Except me. Not everyone has to be.”
Valtor sighed.
What nonsense.
But from an Aura Master, he couldn't outright deny it.
“Prove me wrong—become a Master, Valtor.”
“In this lifetime?”
“Who knows? When Sestas rampages again, you might guard this place in my stead.”
“Don't jinx it. If I can't Master, fine. But I hate subbing for you.”
Layas smiled bitterly.
Then he wiped it away.
“Anyway, Lena's alive... good news.”
“But their destination... they're heading to Petron Magic Market now.”
“Petron? At this time? That mage has no ties to the traitors?”
“Certain.”
“I see. Hmm.”
Layas pondered, then decided.
“Time to hunt.”
“Pardon?”
“Bait: Lena. Observation target: the mage. And for any who approach...”
No need to finish.
Valtor took over.
“I'll unleash the hounds.”
That day, biting winds began in the North.
Yet Layas's gaze never left the eternal snows at the range's end.
The moment Petra mentioned Magrid's descendant, Camilla grinned.
Like she'd been waiting for this, she teased Petra relentlessly.
“Hmph, human undead! You're committing a sin!”
Camilla provoked Petra out of nowhere.
Repaying some earlier jab, it seemed.
“Blind to Magrid's heir right before you! Sinful! Sin! Repent with death, human undead! I can help! He-heh, how's that?”
Petra fell for the taunt hook, line, and sinker.
Her eyes gleamed with madness, reaction intense.
“Wh-who's Magrid's heir, brat? Speak!”
“Huh? You really don't know? It's Master! Master opened Magrid's Legacy himself... and made stuff like this? Ahem! You don't have one, right?”
“He made this himself? The Apostle?”
Camilla proudly showed off her prosthetic leg and arm.
Petra's jaw dropped.
Amused by her reaction, Camilla kept poking.
“Tsk tsk, not just this! He made the Ring of Purification too... oh, you don't have one? He-heh! Master gave it only to me and Lena-unnie. Not you, right? Jealous? Human undead can't wear these.”
Camilla flaunted her ring too.
Seemed she resented giving Petra the Last Magic Armor.
Bragging about every trinket.
But Petra fixated on the ring, unable to look away.
“Could it be...”
She pulled a ring from her bosom.
The Ring of Purification I'd sold to mercenaries for 25 silver.
Now in Petra's hands.
“Apostle, have you seen this? A mage from Baron Sellevan's territory made it, they say...”
No need for close inspection.
I made it.
A strangely nostalgic Ring of Purification.
“It reached you too? Spreads far.”
I replied curtly, but Petra clutched the ring, trembling like she was sobbing.
Camilla hid behind me, a bit scared, peeking at her.
“Ahh, Seras. You bestowed revelation upon us, but lowly I failed to recognize! I know now—you watched over us, warning of fleeting death. Yet blind I ignored...”
Petra suddenly prayed, weeping openly.
Her words revealed regret: if she'd visited Sellevan first, other holy knights might've lived.
I didn't think so.
But Camilla muttered to herself, amused.
“Human undead, dumb brain too! Memo! Ow!”
I flicked Camilla's forehead.
Now wasn't the time to tease Petra.
Then Petra approached cautiously, resolute.
“Apostle, if you forgive us... could you one day repair the holy sword?”
Couldn't follow her logic.
She acted like I knew everything.
A vague faith, her words fragmented.
“Forgive what? And how would I fix a holy sword? You don't believe everything Camilla says, do you?”
Absurd.
She really bought the Magrid heir nonsense.
But Petra just nodded unquestioningly.
“Yes, understood. If it's your will, there must be reason. I'll atone and wait.”
Finally, the stubborn holy knight emerged.
Regaining strength, her true colors showed.
Wonder if I should like it.
“How fix what I've never seen? Even if I could, the church won't show it.”
Honestly, not at that level yet.
Didn't even know its shape.
But as a crafter, I'd like to see it once.
The System might react.
Petra clenched her fist.
“Any who block the Apostle from the holy sword... are heretics. All of them, slaughter them all... Kh! Sorry.”
Madness flashed briefly.
But she reined it in, learning control.
Couldn't press the holy sword topic more.
“Who knows. Anyway, let's clean up. Check for anything useful. Lena, help me.”
“Pardon? Ah! Yes! Crafting?”
“Yeah. Party's bigger, so one more black earth horse.”
We needed transport.
Camilla often hid in my shadow en route, guarding me.
But with Petra, another black earth horse was needed.
Then Camilla asked.
“Oh! What about the skull-heads on floor 3? Still working.”
“Skeleton miners?”
“Yeah! They just work! I bonked their heads, still working?”
The lich fell, yet skeleton miners persisted.