The Hero's Sword (3)
I forged the Hero's Sword with great enthusiasm and decided to run a light performance test. I handed it to an incarnation I'd made with the specs of an average human and had it face off against some monsters.
"Impressive."
Dozens of monsters were utterly demolished. No, I'd even thought it might be dangerous since I'd limited the incarnation's physical abilities to those of a normal human... but here they were, a massive bear-shaped monster included, reduced to chunks of meat.
The greatsword's power and durability were one thing, its defensive strength in armor form another, and its cutting power as a one-handed sword yet more. But the enhancement from its mana was by far the most outstanding.
This sword demonstrated terrifying might, slicing a huge bear monster into dozens of chunks in an instant—even through my incarnation, which had no memory of ever wielding a blade.
As for the armor's defense... if you just paid a little attention to the parts not covered by the armor, it could withstand a bear's rock-shattering blow without a scratch.
Somehow... I had a feeling I'd created something extraordinary.
Hmm. This is dangerous. If this weapon fell into one human's hands, who knows what could happen... If someone who knew how to fight even a little got hold of it, they could probably slice through a Lesser Dragon like a wyvern with ease, right?
Of course, as eras pass and humans advance... maybe even a human body could stand against a dragon someday. Just my personal hunch, though.
Anyway, it seemed I'd gone a bit overboard with this sword's power. It probably needed special management. Not just anyone could even swing it without meeting the conditions, but still... you never know. Someone might figure out a way to bypass that with magic.
I doubt there's anyone who could pull that off without me noticing, but...
When it's not in the Hero's hands, it has to be sealed away securely in the Life Temple, and even its storage location kept secret... Yeah, total secrecy...!
The best option would be for me to manage it personally, of course.
Hmm. Well, let's think on it for now. Just think.
So, what next? Should I go looking for a human worthy of being the Hero? Someone who could pass all those tricky conditions?
Ah, no. Better to spread some rumors. Easier to draw humans in that way than to check them one by one myself.
Conveniently, there are plenty of Life Temple pilgrims wandering the world. And these days, even people who aren't dragons are joining up as pilgrims in droves.
I can just pass the word through oracles to humans who believe in the Goddess of Life.
And so, unbeknownst to anyone, I brought the Hero's Sword to the Dragon's Tomb—the Life Temple's headquarters—and embedded it in a massive boulder.
Then I wrapped it tightly with chains forged from pitch-black adamantium and anchored them into the rock to seal it firmly in place.
Of course, one of those chain links was cut in half and magically reattached! So that the chains would release in response to the conditions for wielding the sword!
If a human who meets the criteria grasps the sword, they can pull it free!
Perfect. Preparations done—time to issue an oracle.
One day, a single oracle descended upon the followers of the Goddess of Life.
"Lately, more and more monsters have been harming other lives, yet humans lack the strength to protect themselves.
Thus, I have personally forged a single sword and placed it within the Life Temple.
But its power is so immense that its wielder must be chosen with utmost care.
Seek out one with a kind heart. One with exceptional talent. One who cannot overlook injustice. One who hesitates not to save others.
Let that one grasp the sword, and they shall become the Hero, the blade that guards humanity."
In a time when countless villages were falling to the surging monsters, this sword—bestowed by the Goddess of Life to protect humanity—became known not just to humans, but to other races as well.
Thus, hordes flocked to the Life Temple, eager to claim the sword forged by a god's own hand.
A word travels a thousand miles without feet. And with Life Temple pilgrims scattered across the world, the rumors spread in an instant.
The tales on every tongue went like this:
What the hell was that last one? Why is that rumor even circulating?
Anyway, the rumors ballooned wildly, and soon masses were converging near the Dragon's Tomb and the Life Temple.
Those confident in their strength. Those craving power to wield the sword. Those greedy for wishes. Those burning for revenge after losing family to monsters. Blacksmiths drawn by curiosity over such a famed blade. And guys hoping to marry the beautiful Goddess of Life... what the—?! Why come for that?!
Each harboring their own motives, crowds arrived to try pulling the sword—but none succeeded.
Overwhelmed by the massive boulder and the oppressive black chains binding it, they couldn't budge it an inch.
Not the burly strongmen famed for their might, nor renowned soldiers, nor dwarves far stronger than humans, nor even a city-state king.
All failed.
And so a year passed.
Did I set the conditions too harshly? Why can't anyone pull it? All it takes is being kind, talented, intolerant of injustice, and willing to help others! That should be doable for any decent person, right? Why is no one succeeding?
I'd thought that once... but I was greatly mistaken.
I'd overlooked that my moral standards and this era's were worlds apart!
My thinking was mostly shaped by modern society, but this was still an ancient world.
Simply put: "Our mindsets are completely different."
A massive blind spot... an overwhelming one. I hadn't realized how my idea of "kind" differed from this era's.
The bar for "kind" here was far lower than even my lowest threshold.
If even the easiest condition was like that, what about the others?
Talented? From my perspective, how much talent? If it's from a god's view, probably the potential to conquer the world with a single sword, right?
All those conditions I'd thought were easy—combined, they made the difficulty skyrocket.
I could only sigh as I watched human after human try and fail, trudging away.
Ugh... Is there truly no one worthy of that sword?
Lost in such thoughts, idly observing each attempt, one boy approached the sword.
A young boy, maybe ten years old. His "clothes" were more like ragged sacks, his body caked in dirt. His pale, sickly face suggested he hadn't eaten properly—he looked worrisome just to see.
The onlookers pointed and sneered.
It was only natural. If muscled brutes couldn't pull it, how could this kid? "Now even beggars are trying?" the murmurs went.
But the boy didn't care. No hesitation. Ignoring the stares, he gripped the sword—bigger than himself—and began to pull.
Clank. As his hand closed on the hilt, the adamantium chains rattled.
Everyone was certain he'd fail. Yet the boy strained with all his might, as if failure meant the end for him—as if he'd burn everything to draw it.
But the sword didn't budge.
I let out a small sigh. The boy's heart was kind—not just by this era's low bar, but even by modern standards. He had the goodness to abhor injustice and help others... but he lacked talent. His was below average, the mark of a dullard.
His one virtue: unyielding perseverance, a spirit that never broke.
So I closed my eyes briefly.
Talent... Talent... Couldn't overwhelming effort, unbreakable will, and a guiding mentor substitute for it somehow?
Sure, it'd be brutally hard for the one enduring it. Near-death training, maybe even wishing for death... but it could work, right?
With that, I nodded. The adamantium chains slowly unraveled, and the Hero's Sword began to slide free from the rock.