Ch.8227. Opening My Eyes Again (2)

Despite it being time for darkness to lift, the outside was dark and gloomy.

Was a downpour about to start?

No. It’s dawn, so I can’t tell yet.

-You’ve become a bit more human now.

“……”

That thing, which had long maintained an attitude of complete indifference to worldly matters.

That golden girl, the Demon Lord, was now showing interest, her eyes gleaming.

What could have pleased her so much?

-You sense it too, don’t you?

“……”

I could have slept a bit longer, but I had no choice but to wake up.

Nightmares and seizures had attacked simultaneously.

But this time was different from before.

The vengeful spirits that had cursed me with malice while begging to be saved…

…were now urging me to prepare.

Clearly different from before.

The splitting headache and full-body pain had vanished completely.

But the sense of foreboding, unlike before, pounded at my heart.

It’s a chilling sensation.

An ominous feeling that something might leap out of the darkness at any moment and tear my throat apart.

I regulate my breathing.

This fear and anxiety originate from within me.

Therefore, even this is fear and anxiety that I’ve created and harbored.

My intuition speaks.

Being careful isn’t enough.

I need to flee immediately.

I need to run away.

…Otherwise, truly.

I’ll die.

It will be irreversible.

I’ll be shattered.

I’ll be broken.

I won’t be able to do anything.

It warns me.

It pronounces judgment.

It is, in other words, the emotion of fear with a clear substance.

Nevertheless, while deliberately suppressing my racing heartbeat with my breath,

I also accept it purely.

I mustn’t be ruled by emotions.

It’s not even about overcoming them.

Nor is it about enduring them.

…I can’t go against the flow.

Even if I struggle desperately against it.

Even that is futile.

-But you slept well last night, so maybe take comfort in that?

“……”

Ridiculously, it’s not wrong.

That was a little funny.

====

Despite it being dawn, the blacksmith’s forge had a small light glowing.

I make my way there through the village, which has a different atmosphere now, with a faint mist hanging over it.

“You’re here?”

“…Yes.”

He gestured with his eyes toward a sword lying in the corner.

A sword in its scabbard.

First, I examine its appearance.

There’s no major difference.

A predictable conclusion, if predictable.

I grasp the handle, slightly too long for one hand.

I pull.

It doesn’t budge, firmly secured in its scabbard.

The fit is exquisite.

Eventually, I slightly pull the handle to loosen the connection and then draw it fully.

It slides out smoothly.

“……”

The finishing is clean, and it’s well-oiled.

The point, edge, and blade are smooth enough to seem brand new.

Even in the dark interior of the forge, the luster was clearly visible in the faint sparks of fire.

I examine it again.

The fuller carved into the center of both sides was formed exactly as it originally was, without exaggeration.

“……”

The overall balance is good.

The fact that it’s not just a piece of metal lengthened and hardened into shape is evident from the weight in my hand.

…Of course, I won’t know for sure until I use it, but at least in appearance and feel, it’s not much different from what I used to wield.

“How is it?”

“It’s sufficient.”

“It seems cumbersome to wear at your waist, so it’s better on your back. My son made a shoulder strap when he was bored, so just take it.”

“……”

Unlike Elhermina’s sword, this one would stand out if worn at the waist.

Not impossible, but still.

Wearing it on my back would mean having it outside my robe, which felt a bit awkward.

…But not wanting to disregard his goodwill, I took it in hand and expressed my gratitude.

“Was that unnecessary meddling?”

“…No, not at all.”

Better to have it than not.

I may have been using something else before… but having more of these can’t hurt.

If I can’t wear the sword, I can wear something else.

“Let me ask one thing.”

“…Please do.”

As I was about to leave the forge after bowing, he spoke with his back turned to me.

“Why didn’t you dispose of it earlier?”

“…This, you mean?”

Holding up the sword, Kariel pondered for a moment.

The reason? It’s nothing special.

Really, it was nothing.

“Perhaps because it was the first real sword I came to own.”

“Is it precious to you?”

“No. Not at all.”

Just.

“…It was something my father received, and a close sister insisted I should inherit it and forced it into my hands.”

It was utterly useless, but…

Still… it was fortunate, in a way, that I didn’t have to find another sword when I ran away.

If it hadn’t been for this, I would have been caught by Elhermina without being able to resist at all.

I’m not feeling grateful to a mere sword, but.

“…At least it’s the only thing I could call a comrade for now. Maybe I felt some attachment to it. Or maybe not.”

“You talk too much. Either it is or it isn’t. Why are you making excuses to me?”

“…You’re right. I apologize.”

Despite the blunt words that might sound extremely rude to some, Kariel didn’t feel offended or displeased.

The only emotion rising was self-loathing.

It’s funny.

What was so unsatisfactory?

I wasn’t being rational.

That’s not how you treat a tool.

What was the point of attaching unnecessary meaning and sentiment to it?

“Be careful.”

“Yes. I understand.”

As I left the forge, presences stirred around the entrance and in the open space, as if they had been waiting.

“You…”

I didn’t bother to stop walking.

“W-wait?”

I continued walking slowly, but due to the small size of the yard, I reached their line of sight and range in less than five steps.

Whatever.

Did they perceive it as a threat?

I deflected the reflexively swung knife and simultaneously swept the opponent’s ankle.

In the process, I seized the knife from him.

“Whoa?!”

The man who suddenly fell down.

His surprise was momentary.

Realizing his hand was empty, he stared fearfully at the knife in my hand with a pale face.

“Follow me. Then I’ll return it.”

“What—?”

There was no need to run.

No need to consciously pay attention to them following.

I climbed the stairs and directly reached the 4th level.

Essentially the peak of the village.

The area where that damned sword was stuck.

And this place at dawn was so spacious that it resembled a plaza.

Only then did I throw the knife back.

As the shallow metallic sound of it hitting the ground spread, those who had followed jerked their shoulders exaggeratedly and stepped back.

It was quite a scene.

…Not that everyone reacted that way.

“After I talk with that thing, I’ll leave this village.”

This is a kind of warning.

If your goal is to make me leave, don’t attack.

If you have other intentions, be prepared.

“Talk with the sword?”

“Is he crazy?”

Some mocked me as if looking at a madman while remaining cautious.

“Talk to it? Is that possible?”

“Well, if a spirit or soul resides in the sword, it’s not impossible, right?”

“Is that really possible?”

Even some oddly ambivalent reactions, unsure whether to believe or not.

“Say that again. What are you talking about?”

Amidst all this.

A voice both familiar and unfamiliar reached my ears.

If words could stab a person, wouldn’t they sound like this?

“I’ve been swinging that thing around for over a decade, and it never said a word to me. But what? You’re saying it spread its legs like a whore and flirted with you?”

“……”

I didn’t intend it.

But I did have a small expectation that I might encounter him at this point.

…Is it right to call this an expectation?

“V-Venus?”

“Huh!”

Everyone backs away in terror.

As if they’ve spotted a bear or a ferocious monster while wandering in the forest.

“So now you’re going to pull it out?”

“If you can’t pull it out anyway, weren’t you planning to kill or incapacitate the one who could, and then steal it?”

“You crazy bastard? Where did you hear that?!”

“Does it matter?”

I too.

Am not exactly a person with a pleasant personality.

Above all.

To pick a fight first and then retreat regardless of victory or defeat.

…If he thought I would let it slide good-naturedly, that was a miscalculation.

“Didn’t you say before? That it’s different from Grandeus’s sword.”

Well, of course.

It has to be.

I drew the longsword I had just received from the blacksmith out of its scabbard.

“Isn’t it natural that different tools have different uses?”

Forcibly holding a one-handed sword with both hands and swinging it like a two-handed sword?

Of course that’s possible.

But is there any need to do that?

“Since you were disappointed and left on your own, now answer my question.”

With the scabbard attached to my waist, I adjusted my stance.

Yes.

The initial stance, the guard position is:

Parra.

That stance, in a way, resembles a cross.

Holding the sword upright, gripping the handle firmly with both hands.

Therefore.

From the front, side, or across.

It looks as if I’m paying respect or making a vow to someone or something.

“……”

I can see clearly without even looking with my eyes.

He must be indignant right now.

But not yet.

Up to this point, it’s acceptable.

…Showing respect is something knights do routinely.

But from there.

Withdrawing my right foot.

And moving both hands holding the sword to the right side of my waist to solidify the stance.

He must have sensed it.

He must have been certain.

That this is.

…his swordsmanship.

And despite how much they had pursued it.

They never reached the original.

The very source.

“Why do you… of all people… know that? Why that stance?”

“So you recognize it.”

I wonder why he doesn’t bother to claim it’s fake or a mere imitation.

Rather, I found it more curious that he clearly recognized it and was shocked.

All I’ve shown so far is just the guard position.

Originally.

Unless I were to spout nonsense about learning from the Demon Lord.

There’s no way you could ever discover that fact.

It might be much more comforting to fabricate a lie.

But do I have any reason to do that?

From the beginning, I.

Haven’t been swinging a sword to make anyone understand.

“Last time you said it wasn’t interesting? Then this time will be the opposite. I guarantee it.”

And.

“The way of the world has the virtue of give and take. I hope you too will gain enlightenment, teaching beyond what I have. Consider it my not-so-modest repayment, and accept it gladly.”

“You son of a bitch? You’ve got quite the personality, huh? Would you go somewhere and eat a monster’s corpse?”

“Haven’t you tried it?”

“What?”

“There were times when I couldn’t eat because there was nothing. Unlike me, you must have grown up wealthy and happy.”

It’s a dream story, but chewing on corpses and fragments was not uncommon.

So it’s not a lie.

Did I chew because I was hungry?

No.

I chewed and chewed to kill.

Fighting until exhausted, hungry, thirsty, chewing and eating, drinking blood and bodily fluids.

I chewed and swallowed a lot.

“Huh? Fine! Fine! I like it! Good! If that’s what you want! Today, let’s die together!”

Before I was born.

That thing walked beside Grandeus.

The difference in years was definite.

But on the surface, he looks like an older brother of a few years.

But, so what?

Is that a reason not to point a sword at him?

Senior? Respect?

Does he think I came here to play some petty game?

Younger than me, but in this dim environment, both his and my hair color appear dark.

Even our attire has similar colors, so we might look like members of the same group or organization, which wouldn’t be strange at all.

Nevertheless, that thing and I are at opposite extremes.

That thing, which followed behind Grandeus, both admiring and hating him.

…And me, crawling along that damned path, whether it was arranged or guided.

To acquire power as a means.

Struggling along that path.

Though at a glance, that thing and I seem to stand on the same path.

Though we seem to be heading in the same direction.

We are on completely different roads.

“Still running your mouth?”

“Kuhaha—!”

As soon as he drew his sword.

The madness, the frenzy that I had been suppressing all at once exploded.

His two eyes.

Sharply split, flashing yellow-brown.

But more than burning, they were darkly depressed.

As if about to explode with fire or lightning, they were burning fiercely.

And I, silently staring at them.

My reflection in his pupils and irises was.

Endlessly dark and quiet.

Like.

The surface of a frozen winter lake.

Not reflecting anything beyond.

Was that why?

I don’t know who I am.

Still.