Chapter Title: Holy Sword
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Screeech!
'Huh? It opened way too easily? Is it supposed to be like this?'
For the Sword Saint's tomb, you'd expect powerful magic barriers or vicious trap mechanisms to fend off rude intruders, right?
But the iron door swung open with just a light push.
He checked several times, but there were no barriers or traps anywhere nearby.
"Doesn't look like there's anything special inside either. Even the lapis embedded in the ceiling seems ordinary..."
The lapis stuck into the ceiling at the iron door entrance and across the inner plaza was a self-luminous ore.
In the Eastern Continent, it was called luminous pearl, and prices varied wildly based on quality and polish.
Some shone as bright as moonlight, worth a whole mansion, while cheap ones were strapped to miners' helmets.
"Is this the Sword Saint's coffin?"
A granite stone coffin sat in the center of the plaza.
No decorations at all, no notable grave goods in sight.
Not even a stele or painting recording his lifetime feats of slaying the Demon King.
Even decent nobles plastered their tombs with exaggerated achievements and tall tales.
"Really austere. But that makes it all the more trustworthy."
Knight who only knew Sword Saint Rolan's adventure tales from hearsay would have been disappointed by the plain-to-the-point-of-shabby coffin.
But Karyl Daywood, who had memorized the Sword Saint's Book and knew his frugal nature intimately, was certain this was the genuine article.
"So where's the Holy Sword? Inside the coffin, maybe?"
Disturbing the dead's eternal rest was poor etiquette.
As Karyl hesitated, he spotted writing carved into the coffin lid.
Brushing away the thick dust buildup revealed the text clearly.
Flowers bloom then wither, the sun rises then sets. Life ends in death, which I cannot escape—nor do I wish to. The only thing I seek to avoid: fools blinded by ambition, drunk on power, and the ceaseless strife they breed.
"After subjugating the Demon King, he went into hiding because he despised the ensuing petty world. Just like the real Sword Saint. But why leave this passage behind?"
The Sword Saint had declared that the one who gathered all the Divine Weapons would become the All God's successor.
A longstanding rumor turned official by his words.
It became the spark for Divine Weapon strife, yet the Sword Saint's Book never urged owners to fight or kill one another.
"And yet Hakan Leviathan—who claimed Sword Saint's succession by seizing the Holy Sword—is the one who fanned those flames... Absurd."
Karyl brushed away more dust and continued reading the inscription on the coffin.
To the one who reads these words: If you merely covet power, turn back now. Vain ambition and fruitless greed will bring you ruin. But if you truly need power, take the sword from this coffin—and conduct yourself with wisdom and righteousness. Thus shall you carve your path ahead with the blade. —Rolan, faithful servant of the All God
"Felt the same reading the Sword Saint's Book—he sounds more like a philosopher than a knight."
'Covet power' versus 'need power.'
Seem similar on the surface, but a clear distinction upon reflection.
"The former's for those who already wield power yet crave more. The latter's for the truly powerless in dire need."
It was as if the Sword Saint himself were questioning him.
Are you one who needs power... or one who covets it?
Karyl could answer with conviction.
'I need power!'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Scraaaape.
Karyl shoved the coffin lid aside with all his strength.
He'd expected the Sword Saint's remains, but the coffin held only a lone sword rattling inside.
"What? Is this really the Holy Sword?"
Karyl cocked his head.
Before his regression, he'd examined the Holy Sword up close in Hakan's office.
Plain in form by default, it revealed its true nature only in a chosen wielder's grasp.
'But this doesn't match what I saw.'
Was it truly the Holy Sword?
Karyl decided to pick it up.
In his past life, touching it had felt like a lightning strike of agony.
If real, a non-chosen like him should trigger rejection...
Nothing happened.
"Did someone beat me to it?"
Maybe Hakan had passed through and swapped in some random blade.
But Karyl shook his head. The thick dust layer screamed untouched.
"Then where the hell is the Holy Sword?"
Karyl inspected the sword closely.
Maybe it bore directions to the Holy Sword's true location—or the Stella Sword technique engraved somewhere.
The leather scabbard, dust- and cobweb-shrouded like centuries past, looked ready to disintegrate.
Yet the blade itself seemed impeccably forged.
Even under the hazy lapis glow, it gleamed with razor sharpness.
"Not a speck of rust. Could swear it was forged yesterday..."
Boom!
Sudden tremors and an ominous rumble.
Startled, Karyl whipped around.
Ceiling panels slid open here and there, unleashing waterfalls of water.
Splaaaash!
"A trap? Why now?"
Sword Saint said vain ambition and greed summon disaster.
He'd opened it out of need, not greed—surely?
"Damn it, can't even read a man's heart!"
Karyl bolted for the iron door, dodging the deluge.
But the door that yielded easily before was now immovable.
"Any other way out?"
He scoured the underground plaza, parting curtains of cascading water.
No mechanisms, no holes anywhere.
'At this rate, I'll haunt this place as a drowned ghost!'
Water surged to the ceiling in no time.
Thrashing amid the flood, still hunting an exit, Karyl spotted a narrow slit dead center in the ceiling.
Precisely sized for the sword from the coffin.
It clicked—the inscription's words resurfaced.
Conduct yourself with wisdom and righteousness. Thus shall you carve your path ahead with the blade.
'Aha! That's what it meant!'
Karyl jammed the sword into the slit.
A click reverberated—like a lock yielding at the tip.
Boom!
Rumble!
The plaza shuddered once more; a person-sized hole yawned open in one floor corner.
The flood drained straight into it.
"Whew... took ten years off my life."
Karyl sighed in relief, heading for the iron door.
Better flee this tomb before more surprises.
But...
"There's something here!"
"Huh, this inscription...! Don't tell me this is the place command's been hunting?"
Voices beyond the door.
Vardia Empire soldiers, no doubt.
Probably traced from investigating the dry well.
'Mountains beyond mountains, huh.'
Bang!
As despair hit Karyl, an explosion rocked outside amid Imperial screams.
Then another voice cut through.
"Huh, this passage links up here? Looks like we've got company."
"Urk, who the hell are you?"
"Curious? Ask in hell."
Slash! Splatter!
Aura crackled; blood sprayed.
But Karyl shivered at the killer's voice.
Rough timbre dripping arrogance...
'Hakan! He's here for the Holy Sword!'
Hakan Leviathan, Holy Sword's future master in his past life.
After the fortress mercenaries fell, he'd assumed Hakan snagged it amid Vardia-Valua clashes.
Apparently not.
Karyl was Leviathan Mercenary Corps now, but no comfort.
Hakan's nature: no survivors who knew Holy Sword secrets.
'Expert pinnacle versus my Aura Impotent ass. Door cracks, I'm dead. Better gamble...!'
Deep breath. Karyl dove headfirst into the fresh drain hole.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Days passed.
The evacuated fortress fell to Vardia Empire troops; belated Valua Kingdom forces besieged to reclaim it.
Yet the supposed fierce clash dragged half-heartedly.
Showboating for all to see.
Why? ...
"Valua bastards ambushed us. Slipped in another passage, slaughtered our survey team..."
"Those sleazy Valua dogs! Baiting with mercenaries in the fortress while eyeing the Sword Saint's tomb!"
Vardia assumed thus—but Valua stewed in gloom.
"Damn, we're done. Fortress lost means the tomb's looted clean."
"If not for those Magmellia pointy-ears, we could've rushed more troops!"
First movers snatched the Holy Sword, surely.
Point in prolonging the fight?
As both commands wallowed in futility, one man erupted volcanically.
"Goddamn it! Which fucking bastard!"
Crash! Thud!
A burly blond rampaged through the tented command post.
Hakan, Leviathan Mercenary Corps leader—contracted to Valua forces.
"It's mine! The Holy Sword should've been mine!"
Repairing his estate recently unearthed a hidden ancient scroll.
From an ancestor claiming Sword Saint collateral blood: the tomb burying the Holy Sword lay somewhere on the Valua-Vardia frontier.
Soon after, word of a pointless border wasteland spat.
Bingo—Hakan signed with Valua on the spot.
'Pinpointing the secret passage took too damn long, or I'd have beaten them there!'
Somehow, both nations had Holy Sword intel.
Elsewise, no brawl over that turd of a territory.
Hakan dispatched Palmen Squadron to the prime fortress suspect, then hunted the secret passage mouth.
Scroll warned: tomb lay deep underground.
'Probed if Valua found the entrance—they were clueless.'
Finally, cross-referencing 500-year-old maps yielded the entry.
Raced there: Palmen Squadron mid-retreat.
Secret passage dive? Still timely, he'd thought.
Ran into Imperials at the tomb—dispatched swiftly.
But inside: flooded, coffin bare.
'Someone beat me. Fled via drain!'
Hakan chased down the drain at first.
Longer than expected; midway, fierce underground river currents.
Nearly drowned himself.
'Whoever—probably suffocated. But then Holy Sword vanishes forever? Better pray they survived?'
Gut churning, Hakan chugged wine straight from the jug.
A cold-beauty female mercenary entered the tent.
His adjutant and corps intel chief.
"Ursula? What's up?"
"Valua command's planning withdrawal."
"Yeah? Empty-handed, makes sense."
Valua Kingdom juggled wars east and west.
East: Holy Sword beef with Vardia.
West: Collision with Elf Kingdom Magmellia.
Unlike eastern border dust-up, west raged full-scale.
Queen Eleanor's all-out war stance.
Hence Valua's delayed fortress reinforcements.
"Hmph, that temperamental bitch. Kicking up hell over a handful of elves."
Divine Weapon clash between nations loomed possible.
Eleanor wielded Heavenly Bow Astrafe; Valua's Sun King Esteban claimed Fire Halberd Kelthar.
"Both croak fighting—perfect. Oh, Ursula. Scout nearby lakes and rivers for floaters. Priority if they packed a sword—report ASAP."
"Understood."
Holy Sword slipped through his fingers.
But Hakan had zero quit in him.
'I, Sword Saint's blood kin, am the true master! I'll reclaim it, no matter what!'