Ch.201Chapter 201: Fafnir’s Melancholy

#

Around the time when Karl Lanos was about to safely(?) exit the Sword Repository with Liliansis Proxian.

The goddess, her presence dimmed by her divine aura, and the weapon called the Dragon Sword—pitch black except for its blade—continued their tedious standoff while facing each other.

Though I’ve described it as a standoff.

There was admittedly an issue with calling it a “standoff” when these two entities, who weren’t even hostile toward each other, were merely facing one another.

Nevertheless, what made this confrontation between two seemingly incompatible existences—a sword and a goddess—deserve the term “standoff” was none other than:

[AAAARGH!! Let go! I said let go!!]

It would be no exaggeration to say that this was caused by Fafnir, who, having escaped from the hands of the youngster who normally wielded him, was now having a reaction close to a seizure ever since the goddess Lux’s touch reached him.

Fafnir absolutely detested it.

He hated when anyone other than the youngster—whom he had deemed worthy of drawing out the true power hidden in the sword where his spirit form resided—touched the sword while its blade was exposed.

If others tried to touch him, he could normally reject their touch by summoning his scabbard through his own will, even when unsheathed.

“Hehe! Hehe!”

But this goddess, who continued touching the sword with a voice full of playful mischief despite Fafnir’s reactions, was an exceptional being against whom even Fafnir’s will was ineffective.

[Hey! Are you doing this on purpose?]

Fafnir was writhing in agony because he had no means of response other than snapping sharply at the goddess.

This was because, even though he had fallen to the form of a spirit.

The goddess who kept touching the Dragon Sword was closely related to the sword’s first owner, to such an extent that even the power of an ancient dragon—who had reigned as humanity’s greatest threat throughout history, except for the masters of demonic realms who tried to realize their twisted ideals in this world—could do nothing about it.

Apart from himself, who dwelled in the sword as a vessel to preserve his spirit form.

The sword’s own inherent will, developed over long years, welcomed the goddess, forcing Fafnir to silently accept her touch.

Of course, while he wasn’t happy about this situation that was beyond his control.

Since he understood that the will residing in this sword apart from himself welcomed the goddess.

Fafnir tried to compose himself while desperately hoping that this goddess would soon stop her mischievous touching of the sword.

[Come to think of it, you’ve got some nerve, pretending to be humble about managing this place when you’re so busy with many other things.]

Though he expressed his irritation toward the goddess who still hadn’t given up her playfulness.

“Hohoho. Thank you for the compliment.”

Of course, the goddess didn’t respond to Fafnir’s grumbling.

[Sigh…]

He could only let out a faint sigh that exuded a sense of resignation.

Through the sword, Fafnir’s spirit form gazed at the goddess who was touching the Dragon Sword with eyes still full of playfulness and welcome.

Though she obscured her body with divine light.

The ancient dragon, who had once nearly attained divinity in his dragon form, knew the goddess’s true appearance behind that dim veil.

While she humbly(?) presented herself as a minor goddess tasked with managing the Sword Repository in front of the youngster.

This goddess was actually the proxy created by Lumen Lanos, the great human hero who had ascended to the heavens after attaining divinity, by separating a portion of his own divine nature.

Though slightly less powerful than the twisted beings of demonic realms who broke the rules and wreaked havoc in this material world.

She was a great being who worked inconspicuously as this world’s most powerful guardian deity.

In a sense, she could be described as infinitely close to Lumen Lanos without issue.

Yet Fafnir still disliked this goddess.

This too might seem somewhat absurd when heard, but he had his reasons.

Once, he had despised her as the one who took away his most glorious days.

But now, she was essentially the proxy born from the divinity accumulated during the Great Holy War by someone so precious to him that he regretted not cherishing their time together more—someone who aimed to protect this world in his stead.

Except for her appearance—remarkably similar to Lumen’s, which could be confirmed if the dim divine light concealing her form were removed—

She had absolutely nothing that reminded him of that precious person’s character.

Ah, there was just one thing.

“Hohoho. It’s karma and your just deserts. You shouldn’t have treated me so poorly when I was first born.”

Unfortunately, that one thing happened to be the reckless playfulness that he considered the only flaw among all the qualities possessed by her, Lumen Lanos, whom he cherished so much.

This made him even more averse to this goddess, whom he already found uncomfortable.

Of course, if he were to think about her—now in a distant place where he couldn’t see her even if he wanted to.

He could even appreciate her mischievous side that used to tease him so casually and put him in difficult situations.

But that only applied when Lumen Lanos herself teased him.

It didn’t apply to her proxy, who was almost like her incarnation, even if she originated from Lumen.

[That’s ridiculous! You should be grateful I didn’t revert you back to pure divinity when you were going around spouting nonsense about wanting to be treated as Lumen from the moment you were born!]

Fafnir couldn’t help but express his discomfort toward this goddess who, for some reason, pretended to be Lumen whenever she faced him.

Well, despite all his protests.

“Hohoho.”

Though it sounded very warm.

To Fafnir, it was a laugh that concealed her true feelings while dismissing his anger, and the fact that he couldn’t prevent her hands from touching the sword.

This only deepened Fafnir’s displeasure.

[Urrrgh…]

It must be maddening for Fafnir, who could do nothing but groan in disgust.

Finally accepting the goddess’s touch, Fafnir inwardly repeated a wish.

It was a prayer that, if possible, no one except the youngster he had acknowledged or those acknowledged by that youngster would touch the Dragon Sword where his spirit form resided.

Some might say he was being too fussy about mere touching.

But for Fafnir, this was a wish filled with more desperation than anything else.

Though someone who learned the reason behind it might find it somewhat ironic.

Long ago, even before Fafnir was forced to live in a human body.

Back when he lived in the body of a dragon with magnificent red scales—so magnificent that there were somewhat exaggerated legends about him covering entire mountain ranges as the “Red Tyrant.”

What ended those good days was the very sword that was now essentially his body.

And the person who wielded that sword was someone precious with whom he had shared moments he could never forget even after many years.

When Fafnir lost his physical body while saving Lumen, who was in mortal danger from a demon god’s desperate attack at the end of the Great Holy War, the place where his spirit form barely settled before dissipating was.

That very Dragon Sword wielded by that precious person.

And as he came to dwell in the sword, he learned the feelings of its owner that had seeped into it.

Without realizing it, he formed a wish that whoever wielded this sword should be someone who suited it perfectly.

Fafnir would never lend his power unless he deemed the wielder strong enough to overlay the memories of Lumen in his reminiscence.

They had once sought each other’s lives.

Then reluctantly joined hands against a common enemy.

Settled their hostile relationship after owing each other their lives.

And became friends despite their bickering.

He fell into a long sleep, vowing that no one would awaken him from his slumber within the sword unless they were stronger than his friend Lumen Lanos or had the potential to surpass her.

As he closed his eyes, he fell asleep with self-mockery, thinking such a person would never appear.

Although a considerable amount of time had passed, once someone meeting his criteria appeared.

Fafnir thoroughly trained that youngster who had the qualifications but lacked substance.

His modest wish was to make that youngster a hero with achievements no less than Lumen’s.

To atone for his past mistake of recklessly pursuing power without consideration.

And to convey words left unsaid to that precious one in that elevated place.

“Hmm. You’ve finally stopped resisting. Please maintain that state for just a moment. Just a very brief moment is all I need.”

He forcibly endured the touch of this glib goddess who resembled her in appearance but not at all in substance.

The main reason was his belief that the goddess, who had mentioned giving the youngster a special gift through this sword, wouldn’t touch the sword without meaning.

Of course, he felt puzzled that no divine power characteristic of a being shrouded in divinity could be felt from the goddess’s touch as she handled the entire sword, including the blade, but that puzzlement lasted only until…

“There, all done.”

As soon as the goddess finished saying it was done.

[…!!]

Fafnir sensed the sharp energy emanating from the Dragon Sword that functioned as the vessel for his spirit form, and it ended in an instant.

[….]

Fafnir was left speechless, amazed that the power of the vessel containing his spirit form had risen to a level reminiscent of Lumen’s prime.

“How is it? Is it up to the level of when your master wielded it in her prime?”

He was too stunned to answer Lux’s question, asked with a triumphant expression and voice.

Of course, not to the extent that he could never respond.

[…Even a rotten croaker is still a fish. You instantly removed part of the seal embedded in the sword.]

Though his words had a slight edge, he managed to offer a compliment.

With part of the seal released, his range of movement had expanded.

He thought about praising her a bit more.

“Oh come on. Your praise is too stingy. Give me more. Pretend I’m your master while you’re at it.”

Seeing the goddess say such appalling things just by hearing them, he immediately abandoned that thought.

Well, now that the gift for the youngster was complete.

Thinking he should return to the youngster’s side and teach him how to handle the unsealed sword, Fafnir said:

[If we’re done here, send me back to the youngster quickly.]

He made a request that was close to an order to Lux, but.

“Hohoho…”

Instead of accepting his request, this glib goddess only let out an incomprehensible laugh.

Feeling an inexplicable unease, Fafnir said:

[…If you don’t want to, I can fly back on my own.]

He attempted to leave the goddess whose grip had loosened slightly and return to the youngster by himself, but.

*GRIP!*

Fafnir’s attempt ended before it could even begin due to Lux’s hand firmly gripping the sword’s handle.

[…Huh?]

A single cry of surprise escaped Fafnir’s mouth at the sudden strong grip.

Noticing that the Dragon Sword’s movement had become sluggish, the goddess elegantly waved her free hand, returning the scabbard lying on the ground to its proper position.

*Shhhhk*

As the scabbard, moved by the telekinetic force of a transcendent being rather than human hands, sheathed the Dragon Sword’s blade.

[Hey! Don’t sheathe me without per—]

Fafnir’s voice, which had been loudly echoing throughout the Sword Repository, suddenly died down.

This happened because the blade, which served as a channel for communicating with the outside world through voice when he wished, had been sheathed.

Though he couldn’t speak, he still expressed his displeasure by making the Dragon Sword containing his spirit form shake left and right while still in its scabbard.

“It’s useless.”

But even this minor rebellion was instantly suppressed by the goddess’s elegant touch.

Seeing Fafnir now completely defenseless, the goddess Lux raised the hand holding the sword to her face level.

“Now that the important business is done, I’ll indulge my personal desires.”

While saying these incomprehensible words without taking her eyes off the sword.

She suddenly hugged the sword tightly.

It was the moment when Fafnir, who had been putting all his effort into expressing his emotions through subtle trembling in his speechless state, completely froze.

[GYAAAAAAAH-!!]

It was also the moment when a mournful scream from Fafnir—unlike anything Karl Lanos had ever heard before—echoed in Karl’s mind as he was entering the Lanos mansion after safely(??) clearing up Liliansis’s misunderstanding.