Chapter 82 – Opening My Eyes Again (2) 

Even though it should’ve been time for the darkness to lift, the outside remained dim and gloomy.

Was a heavy rain about to pour?

No, it was still early dawn, too soon to tell.

– “You’re finally starting to resemble a human.”

“…….”

That golden girl,   

That Demon King, who had long shown no interest in the affairs of the world, now looked on with faint curiosity, her eyes glinting as if something had finally piqued her interest.

What could have pleased her so?

– “You’re sensing it too, aren’t you?”

“…….”

He could have slept longer, but he had no choice but to wake.

Because a nightmare and a seizure struck him all at once.

But this time, it was different from before.

The lingering resentment that had once begged for life, for rescue, while hurling curses of malice…

…was now urging him to prepare.

It was a clear departure from before.

His splitting headache and whole-body pain vanished without a trace.

But unlike before, a deep, pounding dread struck at his heart.

A bone-chilling sensation.

As if something might leap out of the darkness at any moment and sink its teeth into his neck.

He steadied his breathing.

This fear, this anxiety, it came from within.

Therefore, it too was a fear and anxiety he had crafted and harbored.

His instincts whispered: Caution wouldn’t be enough.

He had to flee. Now.

Run.

…If not, 

He’d die.

There would be no turning back.

He’d break.

He’d be ruined.

He would be powerless to do anything.

It warned him.

It condemned him.

It was fear in its purest form, real and tangible.

And yet, suppressing his rampaging heartbeat with deep breaths, 

He accepted it plainly.

He must not be ruled by emotion.

It wasn’t about overcoming it.

Nor was it about enduring it.

…You cannot go against the flow.

Even if you thrash and resist, 

Even that is meaningless.

– “Still, you slept well last night. You could take that as consolation.”

“…….”

Ridiculously enough, she wasn’t wrong.

And for some reason, that was kind of funny.

* * *

Even at dawn, the forge glowed with a faint light.

He passed through the subtly changed village, now veiled in light fog, and arrived at the forge.

“You came?”

“…Yes.”

The blacksmith gestured with his eyes to the sword resting in the corner.

It was sheathed and propped against the wall.

Cariel examined it.

There were no significant changes.

Which was expected.

He gripped the slightly long hilt, too long for one-handed use, and tried to draw it.

It didn’t budge, snugly locked in the sheath.

Just right.

Then, tugging slightly to loosen the bind, he smoothly pulled it out.

“…….”

The finishing was clean, the oiling perfect.

The point, edge, and even the flat of the blade gleamed smooth as if newly forged.

Even inside the dim forge, the faint sparks of the fire caught the blade’s sheen clearly.

He inspected it again.

The fuller, the groove running through the center of the front and back, was shaped without exaggeration, just as it was originally formed.

“…….”

Its overall balance was excellent.

He could tell just by holding it that it wasn’t made by simply stretching the metal to shape.

…Of course, weight alone doesn’t tell everything, but at least in feel and appearance, it wasn’t much different from the one he’d wielded before.

“How is it?”

“It’s more than enough.”

“Wearing it at your waist seems troublesome. Better to strap it across your back. My son made the shoulder harness out of boredom, take it with you.”

“…….”

Unlike Elhermina’s sword, this one stood out when worn at the waist.

Not that it was impossible.

Still, slinging it over the back would require wearing it outside the robe, which wasn’t ideal.

…but he couldn’t just dismiss the sentiment, so he accepted it and expressed his thanks.

“Was it an unwanted gesture?”

“…Not at all.”

Better to have it than not.

He already had one he used, but… things like this were always worth having more of.

Even if he didn’t wear a sword, he could always wear something else.

“Let me ask you one thing.”

“…Go ahead.”

Just as Cariel was about to bow and leave the forge, the blacksmith spoke with his back still turned.

“Why haven’t you gotten rid of that one already?”

“…You mean this?”

Cariel held up the sword and paused, thinking.

The reason? Nothing special.

Truly nothing at all.

“Maybe because it was the first real sword I ever owned.”

“It’s important to you?”

“Not at all.”

It’s just, 

“…A close older sister forced it on me, saying I had to inherit it, because it was a gift from my father.”

Utterly useless.

Still… maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t needed to find another sword when he ran away.

If not for this, he might have been dragged off by Elhermina without a fight.

He didn’t feel gratitude toward a sword.

“…But for now, it’s the only thing I can say is a comrade. Maybe that’s why I feel a bit attached. Maybe not.”

“You talk too much. Either it is or it isn’t. Why the need to justify yourself to me?”

“…You’re right. Apologies.”

Despite how rude that blunt remark might seem, Cariel didn’t feel offended or upset.

The only thing that stirred in him, was a sense of self-loathing.

Ridiculous.

Why had he been so dissatisfied?

He hadn’t been objective.

That wasn’t how one should treat a tool.

Why attach such pointless meaning and sentiment to it?

“What a waste.”

“Yes. I know.”

As he left the forge, figures emerged near the entrance and in the open yard, waiting for him.

“You…”

He didn’t bother stopping.

“H-Hey, wait, “

He walked slowly forward. The yard wasn’t big, so after barely five steps, he was already within their line of sight, and striking range.

Not that he cared.

Maybe they felt threatened.

One swung at him reflexively.

He sidestepped the strike, swept the attacker’s ankle with a kick, and at the same time, disarmed him.

“Ugh?!”

The man collapsed.

He only realized what happened when he noticed his empty hand, his eyes wide with fear at the sword now in Cariel’s grip.

“Follow me. I’ll give it back.”

“What the?”

No need to run.

There was no need to be overly conscious of their pursuit.

I climbed the stairs and soon reached the fourth level.

Effectively, the top of the village.

The area where that damned sword was embedded.

And at this early hour, the space here was vast, almost like a plaza.

Only then did I toss the sword back to him.

As the metallic clatter lightly echoed across the stone, the men following me exaggeratedly flinched, shoulders twitching and feet stumbling back.

A commotion.

…Not all of them, but enough.

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

That was a warning.

If they wanted me gone, they shouldn’t interfere.

But if they had any other intentions, they should prepare themselves.

“Talk to the sword?”

“Is he insane?”

Some mocked me, treating me like a lunatic, while others looked on warily.

“Talking to it? Is that even possible?”

“I mean, if a spirit or soul is dwelling in it, it’s not impossible, right?”

“That can really happen?”

Reactions ranged from disbelief to hesitant curiosity.

“Say that again, what was that about?”

And then, amidst it all, 

A voice. Familiar, yet not.

If words could stab, they’d sound like that.

“I’ve tried taking that thing around for over a decade, and it didn’t say a single word to me. But now what? It opened its legs like a whore and cooed sweet nothings to you?”

“…….”

It wasn’t intentional.

But I had… expected the possibility of running into him at this point.

…Though is it right to call that an expectation?

“V-Venus?”

“Gasp!”

Everyone flinched and backed away in fear.

As if they’d just run into a bear or some feral beast in the woods.

“So you plan on pulling it out now?”

“If you can’t do it, weren’t you planning to kill or disable whoever did and steal it?”

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

“Does it matter?”

I’m not exactly a kind person.

And more than anything, 

If he thought I’d kindly overlook the fact that he picked a fight first and then backed down like a coward, 

…he was sorely mistaken.

“You said before it felt different from Grandeus’ sword.”

Of course it does.

It has to.

I drew the longsword I’d just received from the forge.

“It’s natural for a tool to serve a different purpose depending on its make.”

Swinging a one-handed sword with both hands like a greatsword?

Sure, you could.

But what’s the point?

“You walked off sulking last time. Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

I attached the sheath to my waist and steadied my stance.

Right.

The opening stance, the salute, was [Para].

A posture that, at a glance, resembled a cross.

The sword stood upright, both hands gripping the hilt firmly.

To any observer, from the front, side, or beyond, it would look like a vow, a formal show of respect.

“…….”

Even without looking, I could feel it.

He must be livid.

But not yet.

This much was still within the realm of expected behavior.

…Knights perform salutes all the time, after all.

But then, I stepped back with my right foot.

Shifted both hands, sword and all, to the right side of my waist and locked into position.

At that moment, he would’ve known.

He would’ve realized.

That this, 

…was his swordsmanship.

The very origin that they all chased but never reached.

“Why… why do you… how do you know that? Why that stance?”

“So you recognize it.”

Why wasn’t he saying it was fake? A cheap imitation?

That he acknowledged it so clearly, now that was surprising.

I’d only shown the salute so far.

Besides, unless I planned to spew nonsense about having learned it from the Demon King, they’d never figure it out.

They wouldn’t even guess, not in a million years.

It’d be more comforting to make up a lie.

But really, is there any reason I should?

From the start, I never swung a sword to make anyone understand me.

“You said last time it was boring, didn’t you? Then this time’ll be the opposite. I guarantee it.”

And, 

“There’s virtue in give and take in this world. I hope you gain just as much insight, no, even more, than I do. Think of it as my generous little gift. Accept it gladly.”

“You son of a bitch. You’ve really got a charming personality. I bet you’d chew on a monster corpse if given the chance.”

“Haven’t you?”

“What?”

“There were times I couldn’t, because there was none to eat. I guess you had a happy, privileged childhood, unlike me.”

Even though it was in dreams, chewing on corpses and fragments was no rare occurrence.

I wasn’t lying.

Was it because I was hungry?

No.

It was to kill.

To fight. Bite and rip in desperation. Drink the blood and fluids.

I’d swallowed more than my fill.

“Ha? Fine! Fine! I like it! Alright, if that’s what you want! Then let’s just die together today!”

Before I was even born, he walked alongside Grandeus.

The age difference was clear.

But at a glance, he just looked like a slightly older man.

So what?

Did that mean I wasn’t allowed to raise my sword against him?

Seniority? Courtesy?

Does he think I’m here for some childish game?

He was older than me, but in this shadowy environment, both our dark hair blended similarly.

Even our outfits shared muted tones, almost like we were from the same group or faction.

And yet, he and I, stood at polar extremes.

He, who chased Grandeus with both reverence and hatred.

…And I, crawling along some damned path laid out by fate or manipulation.

Scrambling, clawing, all for the sake of seizing power.

At a glance, we seemed to stand in the same place, as if heading the same direction.

But our paths couldn’t be more different.

“You still flapping your mouth?”

“Kuhaha!”

The moment he drew his sword, 

The madness he had barely managed to suppress exploded all at once.

His eyes.

Those sharply slit, flickering amber eyes.

But beyond their blaze, they were sunken in darkness.

Burning not with mere flame, but with a ferocity like erupting fire and lightning.

And as I stared at him in silence, 

The reflection of myself in his eyes, in those pupils, was endlessly dark and still.

Like the surface of a frozen lake in the dead of winter.

Not reflecting anything beyond itself.

Maybe that’s why.

I don’t know who I am.

Even now.