Chapter 128: The Sword of Swords (3)

“Did you say you were chosen by the gods?”

“That’s right.”

Allan’s eyes twitched.

There was a coldness mixed in the way he looked at his father.

“Haha, my youngest, don’t be so jealous of your old man. I will share this Divine Grace with you as well.”

“……Whose Selection did you receive, and what Grace do you intend to share?”

“You’ll be surprised when you hear. Perhaps you won’t even understand me. But soon enough, you’ll come to accept it…”

There was a subtle heat in Bafel’s voice.

In his eyes, it was as if he saw something that only he could perceive, and his lips curled into a hideous smile.

“Father.”

Allan found his father’s appearance both unfamiliar and grotesque.

The dignity of the ruler who commanded the Southern Continent.

The charisma and wisdom of the man once called the true Archmage.

Such things could not be found in Bafel anymore, no matter how hard one looked.

“My son… why do you show such hostility toward me?”

Allan’s resolve was hardened.

Yet, facing reality was unbearably cruel.

So he asked again.

“Just whose Selection did you receive?”

“That One cannot be defined by any name. Simply, One who can envelop the world in Light… a being like the very sky.”

A supreme existence.

To Allan, there was only one supreme being: Hor.

But no matter how he looked at it, Allan and Bafel did not seem to serve the same existence.

‘…Damn it.’

A chillingly ominous aura flowed from Bafel.

“I will share that One’s Grace with you, too. I wish to give you the chance before your worthless older brothers.”

His father’s hand reached out.

Allan harshly brushed it away.

He stared straight into Bafel’s faintly quivering eyes and spoke in a cutting tone.

“Fear the Heavens.”

“What…?”

That was the end of their conversation.

Allan turned away roughly and stormed out of the family head’s office.

His insides churned.

Zing—

A pain shot through his chest.

“Damn it.”

Bafel’s image, reaching out to share his Grace, was vivid in his mind.

The words of starting a war still rang in his ears.

“I have to stop him.”

If Bafel exerted his influence, the Southern Continent would become a Divine Punishment Wasteland devoid of even a sliver of Light.

Above all, Allan had a Mission.

Agent of Divine Punishment.

Even if the target was his father, he never forgot what he had to do.

“O Hor.”

Back in his bedroom, he knelt.

His tightly shut eyes were tangled with grief and determination.

“Please, grant me the strength to stop my father.”

His desperate prayer echoed through the room.

***

Mary was dreaming again.

It was a Battlefield somewhere.

Explosions and screams erupted without pause.

Knights showed their rage with bloodshot eyes.

Richard’s face, dried and caked with blood, looked ghostly.

The Temple Knights shouted constantly, and their complexions were far from good.

Their enemy was the Southern Continent.

A long and arduous battle continued.

At some point, Aaron and Richard’s side lost sight of Gide.

The Knights cut down countless foes, and just as many died as well.

[Surrender! Do not stray into Heresy!]

[It’s not too late! Will you really cast everything into darkness?!]

The Temple Knights’ shouts echoed.

To their calls for surrender, the Wizards responded by hurling jet-black flames.

Even though she knew it was a dream, the cruel heat of it all made Mary feel suffocated.

[Kyaaah!]

Dozens of Knights burned to death.

An enraged Richard charged across the Battlefield.

The Wizards unleashed bombardments upon him.

Even as his body melted away, Richard glared fiercely.

His gaze fixed upon a middle-aged man in white, shrouded in ominous magical energy.

[Markus—!]

A voice barely contained, unable to suppress his rage.

With Richard’s cry, Mary awoke.

“Ah…”

She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.

The ends of her sleeves grew damp.

Her back was already soaked with cold sweat.

“Another dream like this…”

It was too vivid to pass off as just a dream.

It felt as though she’d seen a glimpse of the future.

Mary’s complexion turned pale.

“It’s okay. I was fine last time, too.”

She tried to comfort herself.

Outside her window, the sky was slowly brightening with dawn.

As she watched the sky turn red, she was reminded of the blood that had splattered endlessly in her dream.

She took a deep breath.

Then, she opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out a notebook.

Mary’s treasure, packed with praises for Hor.

In the blank space, she began to write.

She recorded the contents of her dream.

‘The Saint told us to report any Prophetic Dreams. I’d better write it down before I forget.’

But after a while, her pen paused.

[……At some point, Sir Gide was no longer in the dream. The Breastplate he often wore was now worn by Sir Aaron.]

It was something she hesitated even to write.

But she forced herself to record everything she’d seen.

It left her feeling utterly drained.

“Please, let what I saw remain only a dream.”

After her record was finished, she offered her morning prayer.

Even so, anxiety lingered in her chest.

That afternoon.

She went to the Royal Treasury with the other Evangelists as scheduled.

“Haha… no matter how many times I see it, the Stone Tablet is beautiful.”

“This is a Divine Relic bestowed by Hor. Its value cannot be measured.”

Surrounding the Stone Tablet, which was carefully enshrined in the center of the treasury, the Evangelists spoke in awe.

A Stone Tablet that had fallen from the sky together with Light.

Their task was to copy the contents of the Divine Law inscribed there.

As the scratching sound of writing filled the air, Mary traced the first line of the Divine Law with her eyes.

‘First. You shall serve none other than Hor.’

Her heart tightened.

The Wizards in her dream served something else.

They worshipped something that was not a god, and defiled Hor without cease.

‘Why do I feel so uneasy…’

Her shoulders tensed.

Just then, Light radiated from the Stone Tablet.

As if to reassure her, the Light was warm and gentle.

***

Kaaang—!

Iron sang its song.

Through its beautiful tone came Hurkeum’s voice.

“Hey, if you have urgent business, hurry up and take care of it. Don’t let your attention wander at such a critical moment.”

“…You sure are sharp.”

Richard shook his head and muttered.

Hurkeum wasn’t exactly wrong, so Richard once again placed his hand on Hurkeum’s back.

How many days had it been since they started this work?

Not eating at night, not sleeping, shut up in this scorching Forge—there was no work more grueling than this.

But the sense of fulfillment matched the effort.

Kaaang!

The hammer glowed with Light.

Kaaang—!

The lump of iron gradually took shape.

The deep, resonant Iron Sound rang out again and again.

Even Richard, seeing the process of forging a sword for the first time, couldn’t take his eyes off it.

He wanted to witness this scene, one he might never see again, with his own eyes.

Hurkeum felt the same.

Like a dream, yet so vivid, his spirit was driven to swing the hammer.

When the iron glowed red in the Immortal Flame, his heart leaped.

The iron, receiving the full attention of both men, was being reborn.

“It’ll work. It’ll definitely work. An incredible sword is being born!”

With every strike of the hammer, their certainty grew.

It was as if the iron itself was begging for more hammer blows.

“To see such a sight in my lifetime…”

***

Dwarves gathered around Hurkeum and Richard.

They even put down their own hammers for the occasion.

Kaaaang—!

The sound grew ever richer.

Whenever the Immortal Flame was absorbed by the iron, its size would swell enormously.

Breathing became labored.

With every breath, his lungs felt like they were burning.

But more than that, his anticipation grew.

The lump of iron, now nearing completion.

Even now, its tremendous aura pricked at his skin.

Like a child about to receive a present, his heart raced.

“Heh heh… how beautiful.”

Hurkeum was no different.

He gazed at the blade with affectionate eyes.

Even then, his hands did not stop moving.

A minute felt like an hour, a day like a month.

They endured this time of patience for what felt like ages.

“Now, let’s make the Sword Hilt.”

At last, Hurkeum began the final step.

The leftover Alcohol and spare branches of the World Tree from forging the blade would be the materials for the Sword Hilt.

“It’d be a waste to use the World Tree just for firewood. With the right craftsmanship, it’ll be an excellent material. My soul is crying out for it!”

The Dwarf’s skill was unmatched.

He split the branch into dozens of slivers and wove them with utmost care.

It looked as though the wood wrapped around the blade itself.

Lastly, he poured Alcohol into the Sword Hilt.

Because the branches had already absorbed Light, they did not dissolve away.

Instead, something marvelous happened.

The Sword Hilt absorbed all the Alcohol, becoming even stronger.

Gulp.

He swallowed hard.

A master artisan sharpened the blade with solemn concentration.

Each stroke of the whetstone released an extraordinary aura.

Whether it was a blessing or a curse, he could not yet be sure.

“…It’s done, it’s done!”

Hurkeum murmured.

I exhaled slowly and looked down at the sword.

A blade similar in size to the “Dragon Tooth” that had once melted away in the plague.

Its snowy-white edge shimmered with iridescent Light.

“Hehe, it’s a fairy. A fairy!”

Hurkeum wiped under his nose.

Though exhausted from the arduous work, his eyes sparkled with energy more than ever.

“Human. I think it would be better if you gave this sword its name.”

“Why is that? I heard Dwarves take great pride in naming things.”

“Regrettably, I can’t think of a fitting name with my mind.”

A name.

The decision was not difficult.

I decided it was not yet time to name it.

“There’s still something more important to do.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

I reached out and grasped the Sword Hilt.

My heart fluttered, just like when I first met Dragon Tooth.

Aaron once said this kind of excitement was called fate.

Yes, this sword was the fate I had forged.

But not all fate is good fate.

Albert and Kalgos.

Between those two, which one was truly my destined counterpart?

Naming the sword could wait until I found the answer.

“…Reveal yourself.”

So saying, I sent my faith into the sword.

Soon enough, a response came.

『K-khhkhh—!』

『How unfortunate for you!』

“Damn it.”