Have a Drink!
After I declared my intention to sell them, the swords that had been spewing words at me without a moment's rest went silent in an instant.
Apparently the shock had been considerable, because not a single one offered a reply.
Did I go a bit too far?
Just as that thought crossed my mind, they all flew into a rage at once, their tempers as intact as ever.
"Ha! Are you seriously saying you'll sell me, a noble Holy Sword? Did you hit your head sometime when I wasn't looking?"
"You've got some nerve! Are you telling me the world doesn't need me, the self-proclaimed strongest sword in existence?"
"Master, declaring your intent to sell me is a reckless remark beyond all redemption. If you offer a sincere apology this instant, I shall be merciful and pretend I never heard it."
"How could you even think about selling us! I hate you, Oppa!"
"I always knew this day might come, but I never imagined you'd be foolish enough to actually say it out loud, Orabeoni. There go the last scraps of my respect for you."
"Sell me? My power...?"
As expected, the swords raged and ranted, hurling every insult imaginable at me.
I'd half worried they might cry and beg me not to abandon them, but that had been a needless concern.
They came out shameless and defiant, casually obliterating even the faintest sliver of hope I'd harbored.
Thanks to that, I felt I could send them off without a shred of regret.
"No take-backs. Every last one of you is getting sold, no exceptions — so keep that in mind!"
"......Rian, are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'd crack jokes at you the way you're cracking bitter remarks at me right now? With all this abuse flying around, why on earth would I lie?"
"You'll never be satisfied with any swords other than us, you know."
"Ever heard of Sword Unity? My body itself has become the sword. I don't need you anymore."
"Even so, surely a frail human body has its limits, doesn't it?"
"Just yesterday I fought off a horde of magic beasts alone and finished it. I can wield sword aura without a blade — end of discussion."
"Even so, you don't have to sell Icle too!"
"What exactly is it about us that displeases you? Don't tell me it's my and my sister's childish behavior. If that's the case, I'm truly disappointed. It would mean you're a petty enough man to sell us over a child's whimpering."
"Absurd. If the whining lasted a day or two, I could understand. But 365 days! Every single morning, no break — the alarm clock is a nagging session, the lullaby is a sob story! That's not a whim, that's a direct challenge to the limits of my patience!"
"A ch-challenge...? If I win, can I eat your power...?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!"
I pounded my chest with my fist, venting my frustration.
I simply could not live another day with swords that pulled stunts even wild beasts wouldn't stoop to.
I'd sooner take up the male organ hanging between my legs and wield it as a sword instead.
"Even I have limits! You insane swords!"
Having vomited up my fury, I ignored them completely and headed straight for the Tongues Merchant Firm, the trading house I'd frequented like a regular customer.
I went to the firm's master and, without ceremony, told him I wanted to put the swords I'd so lovingly cherished up for auction.
The master of the Tongues Merchant Firm voiced his concerns and asked whether I was sure, but my resolve was absolute.
Once all the paperwork was done, the final thing awaiting me was a moment to bid the swords farewell.
"Hah...! Now that I've calmed down and thought it over, parting ways with such a wretched man is actually good news. When I return to the Holy Kingdom, warriors far finer than you will surely be waiting for me."
"I pray your eye for talent improves. This time, stop picking some dickwad of a boy and calling him a hero — choose someone who's actually worthy."
"What did you say?!"
Aleyna convulsed at my heartfelt parting words.
But the Holy Sword had already left my hands and was being carried off toward the auction house.
I'd considered sprinkling salt on it, but I gave up — it would have looked bizarre to anyone watching.
And there were still plenty more swords I had to send off.
"Master, you will regret this. Mark my words."
"Why would I?"
"Because you just sold the strongest sword in history — me! Even if you come crawling back later, weeping and begging, I will never forgive you. So be prepared!"
"Me? Yeah, right."
"Grrr!"
When I answered with a mocking smile, Scáthach flared up just like Aleyna had.
But there was no need to fear revenge from a sword that couldn't even move on its own.
Still smiling, I waved goodbye as I sent the Dragon Demon Sword off too.
"Master... no, I suppose I must call you my former master now. Thank you for everything."
"Unlike the others, your farewell is refreshingly clean."
"Well, whoever my master may be, I will still find my way to battlefields drenched in blood. I enjoyed your gentle touch, former master, but compared to my great cause, it was a trifling thing."
"Right. Safe travels."
That deranged mad sword — the one forever raving about war, massacres, and festivals of blood — was finally gone.
The mere fact of it made my head feel remarkably clear.
This is happiness. This is bliss.
"Hmph!"
"What's with this one now?"
"My sister says she won't waste a single word on you."
"Well, nothing I can do about that."
"Hmph hmph! Icle is going to find a master who's way more fun than you, Oppa, and live happily ever after!"
"Weren't you the one refusing to speak to me...?"
"My sister changing her mind is a common occurrence, isn't it? Then again, since you never paid us any attention at all, I suppose that reaction is only natural."
"By the way, no more calling me Orabeoni?"
"You're selling us off, and you still want to be called that? Your conscience doesn't just have thin spots — it doesn't exist at all."
"Fine, that was my fault. It was nice seeing you — let's never meet again."
The twin daggers, Icle and Lips, had been noisy, sure, but in their own way they'd been adorable.
It wasn't that I'd been indifferent to them.
My fighting style simply didn't suit dual wielding, so I hadn't used them often — that was all.
Even so, I had faithfully maintained them, polishing and caring for them all along.
It was precisely because they couldn't remember that kindness that I could send them off so cleanly — and yet, somehow, it stung a little.
"Grishras, you're the last one left."
"......"
"Got anything you want to say to me?"
"Mmhh...?"
"......Just go."
Unlike the other swords, Grishras never complained — but she was also a greatsword with a hopeless lack of social awareness.
Every time she asked, heedless of time or place, whether she could absorb my power, I felt like someone swallowing food whole without chewing.
Well, from now on, even if I ate in a hurry, at least I'd have less indigestion.
With Grishras being hauled away by the auction house handlers, I was finally, completely liberated from those insufferable swords.
"Rian, sir, your auction registration is complete. Please accept this."
"What's this?"
"The swords you registered are such famous, storied blades that I have drafted a rough estimate of your expected proceeds."
The parchment the merchant master handed over was absolutely crawling with zeroes.
An astronomical sum. Everything I'd ever earned from selling swords added together would have paled beside what I was about to make.
Enough to build a grand mansion and support three generations of descendants who did absolutely nothing with their lives.
But while I had a talent for wielding swords, I had no talent for managing wealth.
"I'll take only a portion of the auction money and leave the rest with your firm."
"R-really, sir?"
"Yes. Promise to preserve eighty percent of the principal, and you're free to invest it as the firm's capital."
"I swear we will maintain the eighty percent! Thank you so much!"
"Don't mention it. Think of it as repayment for the trust you've shown me all this time."
Saying I was counting on them, I clapped the merchant master on the shoulder and turned to leave.
The money was money, but more than that, I wanted to savor the joy of having dealt with every last one of the swords that had made my life hell.
"Oh, by the way, sir — now that you're a man of great wealth, what do you plan to do with yourself from here on?"
That meddlesome pest of an interference drifted in from behind me, but I could let it slide.
My mood was simply too good.
"I intend to retire into seclusion for a few years on the money I've just made. I've seen everything the world has to offer — isn't it time I rested?"
"I see."
"So take good care of my money while I'm gone!"
With those parting words, I departed for an empty frontier land and lived out my days in leisurely peace.
***
Eight years had passed since then.
By now, rumors of my death circulating in the world wouldn't have surprised anyone.
Yet there I was, in some remote backwater where even footprints were rare, let alone people, spending my days in peace and robust health.
Nobody knew where I lived except the master of the Tongues Merchant Firm, so not a single visitor ever came calling.
I truly believed I would live out my days in tranquil isolation, cut off from the world entirely.
That's how it should have been......
Smashed furniture lay scattered in every direction, the floor and walls covered in sword scars. Corpses lay piled in heaps all around, and before me, one man knelt, trembling like a leaf.
I sat perched on a tilted table, looking down at him.
"So tell me — how did you assassins come to know the location of my retreat?"
"Ugh...!"
"You really won't talk? Fine. Then just like that chunk of meat next to you, your body gets crushed."
The lump of meat I pointed to had once been the man's friend.
I'd chopped it apart with one hand and minced it like ground beef, so it was no longer recognizable as anything at all.
Having witnessed his friend's gruesome end, the man finally surrendered to terror and forced his mouth open.
"I-I bought the information from the master of the Tongues Merchant Firm!"
"That guy sold my information? Now that's a surprise."
"The Tongues Merchant Firm jumped into the salt trade with the Eastern Kingdom and lost every single ship — went completely bankrupt, they say. The master had no choice but to grab whatever assets remained and run. He must have been funding his journey by selling your information wherever he could...!"
"Ah-ha! So that's how it was."
The moment I heard the man's story, the general shape of the situation assembled itself in my head.
The merchant master had squandered even the investment capital I'd told him to preserve at eighty percent, then bolted with whatever money was left.
And then, afraid of retaliation, he'd gone around selling my information to anyone who would buy.
Which was, for all practical purposes, placing a contract on my life.
"Wow. Seeing him stoop to something I couldn't have even imagined back in the day, I suppose I really have gotten old. Did I look like a tiger with its teeth pulled out?"
The man before me shook his head frantically in denial.
Natural reaction, really.
It's hard to look weak after single-handedly slaughtering more than fifty assassins in one go.
At his honest reaction, I let out a wry smile.
"The thing is, even if the merchant master ran off with my money, I'm still rich. I barely spent a thing living out in the sticks. I'm not exactly destitute, so I had no reason to chase him down demanding my money back. But here's the thing......"
Crunch!
I crushed the table I'd been sitting on with my bare grip.
Rising from the wreckage, I walked over to the man and placed my right hand on top of his head.
"I trusted you people right up to the end, and in return you knifed me in the back and ran — no matter how I think about it, that pisses me off?"
If the merchant master had at least been honest and admitted he'd failed, I would have stopped at giving him a beating or two.
But he not only fled in the night, he also leaked my information to people out for my head, forcibly ending my life of seclusion.
After going through all that, was I supposed to forgive the man and go find a new retreat somewhere else?
I'd sooner bite off my own tongue and die. A hundred times over.
"Oh, right! Thanks for spilling all that information I didn't have — very kind of you!"
Grabbing the man by the hair, I drew his head out of his shoulders the way one draws a sword from its sheath.
Hurling his head — spine still attached — into the corner of the room, I kicked the door open and stepped outside.
The moment I left that house reeking of blood, the crisp, clean air greeted me.
It felt wonderfully refreshing — yet the filthiness clinging to me showed no sign of washing away.
"Eight years, was it......"
A full eight years since I'd sold off my beloved swords and gone into hiding.
And now, I was stepping back out into the world.