Ch.149149. For Whom the Sword is Drawn (2)

Crash!

“Whoa.”

I staggered as falling ancient books hit my head. These precious tomes shouldn’t be rolling on the floor. I displayed superhuman reflexes, catching all the tumbling books. Dusty haze rose acridly, and I kept sneezing to expel the dust particles invading my nostrils.

“Why are these books packed so tightly?”

My hands, head, and face were covered in dust. I shook myself like a rain-soaked dog and emerged from the bookshelf corridor. The librarian of the ancient archives heard the noise and shook his head. He was a short, elderly man with a dignified air. The glasses perched on his stubby nose hadn’t been cleaned in ages, covered with hazy smudges. The librarian closed the book he was reading and craned his neck upward.

“Well now, damaging books would be troublesome. Even for you, the Hero. Only a select few can enter here, and only you, the Hero, and Her Majesty the Queen are permitted to view these materials. That’s how precious and important these documents are.”

“I’ll be careful.”

I expected a scolding, but the librarian’s words were polite. I gave an embarrassed smile and carried the pile of books to the desk. When I set them down with a thud, dust scattered again. I waved my hands to clear the dust and carefully opened the book’s cover. Even in the Kingdom of Kairos, the past was strictly managed. The founding period bordered on mythology, but few knew what happened at that intersection. The point where myth ended and history began. I opened the book to dig into that.

“…Good.”

And so, I began reading with great ambition, but…

…He proclaimed the founding of the kingdom with the fortress in the Kairos basin as its capital.

There was no practically useful information. I sighed deeply as I turned the last page of the third book. Even historical records from the past were full of statements trying to prove mythological legitimacy. While there were detailed accounts of heroes’ deeds from the late mythical era, mentions of evil gods and calamities were sparse and fragmentary.

The seventh calamity shall be the beginning and end of all calamities.

That’s why it’s called the origin. It was written in the scriptures too. No matter how much I asked the Holy Sword, I only received uncharacteristically indifferent answers. Beginning and end. It was said to be the words left by the evil god’s shaman and avatar at the end of the mythical era. Bleeding from every orifice on their face, the shaman cursed the world where the God of Light had triumphed, and then died.

“Would it kill them to speak clearly and directly?”

I complained, leaning back in my chair. I couldn’t blame people who were already dead. The Holy Sword must know something since she experienced that era, but I couldn’t understand why she kept her mouth shut. I gathered the books and brought them to the librarian. The old librarian pushed up his glasses as he looked at the pile on the counter.

“Did you find the information you wanted?”

“No. There’s a lot of valuable information, but not what I’m looking for.”

I shrugged, and the librarian laughed bitterly as if he’d expected this.

“You won’t find what you want among these dusty books. Even the people who wrote them probably didn’t properly understand what happened.”

The librarian took the books with his wrinkled hands and set them aside.

“They’re useful materials for reconstructing history. That’s why the information is limited. What you’re looking for isn’t here. It probably doesn’t exist anywhere in recorded form.”

I frowned at his words. It felt as if the world had placed an access restriction on the seventh calamity, telling me not to even think about approaching it.

“You’re interesting. You’ve already defeated four calamities, and the remaining one shows no sign of emerging from the timeless darkness. Why go this far? What more does a hero who has saved the world four times want?”

“I’m not focused on such trivial matters. It’s just…”

I want to save people. I want this world to exist longer. Such thoughts. I didn’t convert my thoughts into words. The librarian rested his chin on his hand, looked at me, and sighed.

“The evil gods had shamans. The shamans were essentially avatars. But the God of Light had nothing. Heroes weren’t representatives of the god, but representatives of humanity. I think that’s what the god wanted.”

There were those who claimed to be god’s representatives, but that was after the myths had ended.

“There’s no way to know why the gods disappeared from this world. The current Blue Orthodox Church lost communication with the god a very long time ago. I’m certainly not denying their significance, but…”

The librarian’s words had become something like ramblings. There were a few things that bothered me, but I couldn’t understand them with my current knowledge. I left those bothering thoughts as they were. Anyway, there was nothing I could do now except think about them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Well, will you stay longer, or will you return?”

“…I’ll go back. Thank you for your consideration.”

I bowed my head and left the archives. Summer was in full swing. The sounds of heated knights training echoed throughout the palace.

“Why won’t you tell me about your memories?”

“[I have no memories from when I was just a sword, Ilroy. I don’t know as much as you think.]”

She still refuses to tell me. I narrowed my eyes.

“Are you denying it even though you know?”

“[Even if I did know, there would be few facts that would help.]”

I thought about the reason. Why the Holy Sword wouldn’t tell me about the seventh calamity or stories from the mythical era.

“That’s nonsense. Anything you know would help.”

“[Rushing won’t solve this.]”

The Holy Sword was right. What was holding me back was just the catching of words. Words pushed and pushed, piled against a wall, unable to leak out and pressing against each other. It wasn’t simply because I couldn’t recall the “original work.” If I gave up here, even if everything was resolved perfectly, I felt like I would be moving on without knowing something I needed to know.

“Alright. I should organize the information I’ve gathered first.”

I mustn’t let go. The catching of words, the occasional thoughts. I shouldn’t let them flow away. I needed to grab the fragments and gather them together. The things I’d missed, somehow.

“[Ilroy.]”

The Holy Sword’s voice echoing in my head cut off my thoughts. I heard a horse snorting and stomping right beside me. Turning my head, I saw a four-wheeled carriage stopped in front of me. The warm breath of the horse passed me on the wind.

“Ah, damn it, what are you doing standing there?!”

I heard the coachman shouting angrily. I stepped back hesitantly and bowed my head in apology.

“I’m sorry.”

“For crying out loud, if you want to die, die properly. What rich family’s son are you…”

And then, the coachman froze.

“Oh, oh my… Hero, I, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry for blocking the way.”

I quickly moved away. The gazes of passersby were split, half on me and half on the coachman. Finding the silence awkward, I concealed my presence entirely. No sound came from the street I had left.

“[You should take a walk. Your head seems too full.]”

I nodded. I knew from my experience during the fog incident. When thoughts overwhelm physical movement, things go wrong. I shouldn’t let momentary thoughts control my body.

“Let’s go a bit farther.”

Suppressing the throbbing of my heart, I drew up mana. The ground pushed me away, and I received that push with my feet, rising smoothly. One day without showing a pass should be fine. I threw myself into the sky. The sun was shining brightly as it set.

It was a strange feeling. The rising and setting of the sun seemed enormous, but I wasn’t small before it. The ground was far below. I was far from both the sky and the earth.

“[How is it?]”

It was a vague question, but I could answer.

“Liberating. Like I could go anywhere. A privilege.”

“[Literally, you can go anywhere, can’t you?]”

I nodded in the sky. Suddenly, I thought of a place I wanted to go. I turned my body and began walking. Treading on empty air was still a sensation I hadn’t adapted to. Outside the city walls. I headed toward the deep inland in the southeast direction. Though I’d never been there, I could find it. I moved my steps, tracing non-existent memories and past.

“[…You’re heading to a strange place.]”

“I felt like I needed to go there. I should have visited at least once.”

I smiled faintly. The direction I was walking led to a prairie. Amid sparsely blooming shrubs, long-grown grass was undulating. I slowly descended to the ground. The grass bent in the opposite direction of my movement. Looking down, I could see traces of what was once a path.

“It’s been a while.”

Without realizing it, such words escaped my lips. Memories that shouldn’t exist dimly surfaced. These must be memories that Ilroy had before I possessed him. Or perhaps I simply felt that way. The stone path continued intermittently. At the end of the connected path, I could see a collapsed pile of stones. The massive ruins looming at the end of the landscape of grass and stone were almost surreal.

“Do you remember the years you spent there?”

“[I certainly do.]”

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. The Holy Sword had been there all along, looking for someone – someone who would choose her. The Holy Sword answered in a faint voice, as if reminiscing about those years.

“Weren’t you lonely?”

A foolish question. I knew it too. The Holy Sword laughed first. I awkwardly chuckled, listening to her laughter. The Holy Sword’s laughter mixed with the light breeze.

“[I wasn’t bored. I could sleep if I wanted to, and it was fun watching people who came trying to pull me out. Why, are you pitying me?]”

“Maybe. Everyone needs a little pity.”

“[How interesting. Pitying a mere sword. Learn to pity yourself too.]”

Because you’re not just a sword. The words rose to my throat and hung on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed the words back and moved closer to the ruins.

“…This is it.”

The place where everything began. The place where it was decided that Ilroy would be the Hero. For some reason, I felt a comfort like coming home. There was a reverence like in a temple. It probably really was a temple in the past. I glanced at the pile of stones at my feet and approached the central rock.

“[Do you see that groove there?]”

“Yes. Were you here?”

There was a long, thin groove carved in the center of the rock. Rainwater had collected in the groove.

“Will there come a time when I need to return you here?”

“[I don’t think so. Do you want to put me down?]”

I smiled. It wasn’t a question that needed an answer. A nostalgic feeling. I kept looking at the rock. On a rainy day. I could see Ilroy sitting on that rock, embracing the Holy Sword. Ilroy had his head bowed, then suddenly looked up. Our eyes met. In Ilroy’s eyes, I could see storm clouds and forest. I quietly looked into those eyes.

Empty. Only a shell like a mirror was there.

==

It was night when I returned to headquarters. I slightly frowned as I sensed someone’s presence at the door. It wasn’t time for Daphne or Marianne to return yet.

“…What happened?”

I flung open the door and entered headquarters. The first thing I noticed was the smell. The unpleasant smell of muddy water, wet cloth and metal. And the distinct scent of blood hitting my nostrils. My eyes, quickly regaining focus, spotted a figure sprawled on the lobby floor.

“He…ro.”

A face I’d seen before. That black priest’s robe is the uniform of a heresy inquisitor. Labored breathing and a feeble voice. I quickly approached and lifted the inquisitor. The hood of the robe fell back, revealing the face. It was a young woman in her late teens with her hair tied back.

“What happened?”

I slightly drew up mana to stop the bleeding. I tore the robe and priest’s garment to check the wound. I could see a cut. The wound was deep. She didn’t look good. I gradually transferred magical power to help her recovery. Fumbling, her mouth slowly opened.

“Mercenaries… The bishop…”

At the heresy inquisitor’s next words, my face hardened.