CHAPTER 149. Was It Very Hard?
Staring at the inscription on the stone marker, Shine turned his gaze through the space.
A marker set beside his ensured marker.
Shamid von Rortel.
As Shine looked at Shamid’s marker, it didn’t take long for him to notice a neatly placed box in front of it.
“This is…”
An envelope lay atop the box.
Shine brushed off the dust and opened the envelope.
It was a letter Shamid had left behind.
And when Shine confirmed its contents, he was able to resolve, to some extent, the doubts he’d felt while passing through the gates.
In honor of my friend, my idol, Shine von Lehmann.
Originally, this place is meant to honor my friend Shine, who once shone brilliantly, and in accordance with our promise, it is an arrangement made to return the Demon Sword (魔劍).
An opening that began by revealing the purpose of the Sword God’s Tomb.
But.
…I know that the promise will not be kept.
My friend Shine, the party to that promise, crossed a river he cannot return from.
I waited for her descendants, clinging to a faint possibility, but as this waiting nears half a century, even that becomes difficult.
Shamid knew Shine would not come.
Perhaps it was only natural.
There was no way Shamid wouldn’t know of his death.
He waited for descendants on the off chance, but he only realized that, too, was impossible right before his own death.
“So that’s why… all the gates were like that?”
No wonder it had felt strange.
Since he knew Shine’s death, it must have been a place left for descendants.
So why were the gates constructed in a way that no one could know unless they were Shine himself? Why was the discernment so low, all the way through the second stage?
From the start, Shamid hadn’t expected it.
But there was still a question.
“Then why make these tests at all? If he never expected it, there was no reason to make tests in the first place.”
With the doubt in his mind, Shine kept reading.
And with eyes growing hot, he fiercely pinched his brow.
If you reading this letter are my descendant, turn back at once.
This is a letter left for descendants.
But.
What followed wrapped Shine in emotions he couldn’t name.
This Demon Sword (魔劍) is my last good faith. A handful of light remaining in stained chivalry.
So please, turn back.
It is a promise I could not keep…
For Shamid, the promise had meaning simply in the act of carrying it out.
To protect the last handful of good faith. For the speck of pure white in the chivalry he called stained.
But what kind of life had he lived, for him to—
It was warmth he kept even as he tore out a knight’s heart burning hot and became a cold-blooded Head of House. A promise he held even after being born as steel and turning into a snake.
He said he tore out his heart.
He said he became a snake.
Shamid was, more than anyone Shine had ever seen, a knight who was like a knight.
Even while constantly being beaten down by Shine, he set his belief straight and carried his will through. Sometimes it was frustrating…
“You were a knight.”
But what kind of road had he walked? No—he’d become Head of House, so that life was predictable.
So the question “what road” was imprecise.
And so Shine changed the question.
“How… did you endure it?”
Without adapting.
Without submitting.
Yet never falling, never letting himself go.
All his life, he pressed down the life of a knight and carried out the duties of a Head of House, enduring pain that shaved away the soul.
This… was easy for Shine.
And it was easy for most knights, too.
Everyone gets stained and dirty.
Living is like that.
But then why…?
In Shamid’s calm handwriting, Shine measured Shamid’s worn-down soul. His faintly trembling eyes traced the footprints of that soul.
I know. This is a promise that will never be kept.
Nothing but an old knight’s lingering attachment.
So please, turn back.
The soul of the knight who once shone brilliantly is dead.
These are the traces of a decrepit man.
But.
Shine could not deny it.
Even if Shamid the knight was dead…
That soul itself was unwaveringly solid.
Is Rortel so desperately necessary that you still cannot give up? Has power crumbled, and has your blade grown dull?
If so, draw it.
The single strand of conviction you clung to your whole life. Enough that you could abandon your pride without hesitation for the sake of your family.
But when you have regained all power, do not forget.
That beneath your new power, there was the name Lehmann.
By the time Shine read to the end of the letter—
He understood.
What Shamid had felt in building a tomb with no owner, and why he had made meaningless tests.
As written in the letter, it was an old man’s meaningless lingering attachment.
And regret.
And, in one sense—
As Shine reached that thought—
Sak.
Two sheets that had been layered shifted, revealing the next page.
A short line, different from the previous page.
Shine, my fierce friend.
I miss those days.
Only then could Shine fully understand Shamid’s heart.
It was longing for the years that had passed.
Shine gathered the letter up and walked to stand before Shamid’s marker beside his own.
“Was it very hard?”
There was no answer, but Shine felt like he knew the answer.
- It was hard. Beyond anything.
It was weak for a Head of House of Rortel, but Shamid had always been that kind of person.
Someone who calmly admitted his own shortcomings and advanced without end. Someone so honest it was stifling, so steadfast it was rigid.
“I thought you’d adapt once you became Head of House…”
But seeing a letter like this, maybe he hadn’t.
To think he’d carried this ache even to his dying moment.
“You worked hard.”
A single line heavy with layered meaning.
“And thank you.”
He wasn’t good with words, so he couldn’t express more than that. If it had been that crafty one, he would’ve dragged out any words at all.
Shine placed the wildflower he’d set aside before the marker, then stood in silent tribute.
After how much time passed like that?
“I’ll repay this debt. No matter what.”
With that brief vow, Shine finished his farewell to Shamid.
Immediately after, the very first thing Shine did was smash his own marker.
It wasn’t only because he was alive.
Even if much time had passed, he was a traitor. He worried that if this marker were discovered later, it would trouble Rortel.
“I don’t know how you built the Sword God’s Tomb… but it couldn’t have been easy.”
Since the secret had never been exposed, there must have been those who followed Shamid completely. Loyal people who obeyed his orders even after his death. People who didn’t waver even under the temptation of the Demon Sword (魔劍)…
Realizing that his friend hadn’t lived a life that was only lonely, Shine felt, inwardly, a measure of relief.
After smashing the marker to pieces—
Only then did Shine reach toward the wooden box that likely contained the Demon Sword (魔劍).
Creeeak.
Had it corroded with age? The box opened with a harsh hinge sound.
Shine tore away the luxurious cloth wrapping the contents and lifted it to eye level.
A blade (劍身) of pure white.
The Demon Sword (魔劍), Proteus.
Shine admired the Demon Sword Proteus’s form for a moment, then once again fixed his eyes on Shamid’s marker.
“You told me to remember that beneath new power, there was the name Lehmann. Then I…”
He trailed off, choosing his words.
For a moment—
Then Shine spoke.
“Yes. As the Master of the Sword Garden, I will remember that within the revival of the Sword Garden and the vampire clan, there was Rortel.”
The vampire clan will remember for a long time.
Shamid von Rortel.
The good faith of this great knight.
Ah, but why is he the Master of the Sword Garden?
“Because that crafty one is the Master of the Tower, so shouldn’t I be a master as well?”
Shine stored the Demon Sword Proteus in Subspace, then turned and left the Sword God’s Tomb. No—he was about to.
“…But wait.”
The attendant’s warning suddenly surfaced in his mind.
- Ah, and you must keep what I mentioned earlier.
- No damage to facilities, no recording, and don’t stay longer than a day, at most. Is that right?
- Yes.
With unsteadily trembling eyes, he looked at the wrecked scene.
“…What do I do?”
His worry lasted only a moment.
Shine took out the Demon Sword Proteus and raised Aether.
“I haven’t engraved the master seal yet, but…”
The Demon Sword would increase the intensity of Aether even on its own, so it would be enough.
Right after that, Shine’s sword cut through the air.
Sasak, sak! Sasasak…!
Each time the Demon Sword cut through the air at invisible speed, the large broken chunks of stone crumbled down into fine powder.
For a long while—
Shine finally stopped his sword only after the two stone chambers had fused together as if they had been a single space from the start.
“This should be… enough.”
A satisfied smile hung at the corner of his mouth.
After long ages, the Demon Sword (魔劍) of House Lehmann had returned to its master’s hand.
Meanwhile, at that time.
The iron grand hall.
Before departing for Baidun, Hamellan was paying an audience to the Head of House.
“Did the Master of the Tower accept the proposal?”
“Yes. He seemed to be thinking it over, but we received his answer just now. However… he attached conditions.”
“…Conditions?”
Muhad’s brow twitched once.
Conditions?
Rortel had decided to protect the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden.
Though they would change their stance if the secret of the Thousand Origin Art surfaced, even that alone was an overwhelming kindness to the Mage Tower and the Sword Garden.
From Muhad’s perspective, it was only natural to find it insolent.
“What did he demand?”
At the sharp edge in Muhad’s tone, Hamellan made a strange expression.
“That is… a little ambiguous.”
Hamellan recalled his conversation with the Master of the Tower moments earlier.
The Master of the Tower had come in person, before Hamellan could even send anyone.
The conversation began with a question.
- Protecting us means you recognize us as Rortel’s allies, correct?
- That’s right. We’ll likely bestow a Platinum Token.
The Platinum Token was the highest-tier token issued only to an extremely small number among Rortel’s allies.
As an ally equal to Rortel, the holder of the token could ask Rortel for help anytime, anywhere.
Of course, whether Rortel accepted or not would depend on the severity of the matter and the case at hand, but its value was beyond even monetary calculation, as it was a token that could, in emergencies, even command Rortel’s knights.
Only three Platinum Tokens remained to this day.
Perhaps he hadn’t expected that much?
- A Platinum… Token?
- That’s right.
The Master of the Tower’s eyes sparkled.
Hamellan realized it then.
“If we’d led with the Platinum Token, he wouldn’t have hesitated at all.”
But the Master of the Tower’s shamelessness surpassed imagination.
- Then as the holder of a Platinum Token, could I receive secret manuals and things like that?
- …….
- You know, even if it’s not through the Platinum Token… as a celebration of becoming allies, could you do something.
Is he insane?
If other knights heard, they would’ve cut his head off on the spot.
He should’ve asked for the Head of House’s seat while he was at it. Why not?
- Then, um… exchange of secret arts? Something like that—can’t we do that? We’re allies, after all, and our Sword Garden—
- We are not a school of magic. And as far as I know, even schools of magic don’t exchange secret arts.
- Nngh.
The Master of the Tower looked as if he was agonizing in deep regret.
As Hamellan reached that point in thought, Muhad’s voice slammed heavily into his ear.
“Did he ask for the Head of House’s seat?”
“…No.”
Hamellan shook his head hard at the sacrilegious thought.
Then he hesitated. He wanted to tell the whole story exactly as it happened, but…
“That would be bad.”
The Young Lord would be saddened.
Because it would mean his guests would become beheaded corpses overnight.
So Hamellan stated only the conclusion, simply.
“He asked for some useless books later.”
“…Books?”
“Yes. He said he was going to build a library. No—did he say the Mage Tower would be a library? Anyway, later he asked us to donate books.”
“And?”
Muhad’s eyes brightened at the unexpected direction.
“I refused. There are no useless books in the main family, are there? And we can’t exactly go buying books just because of the Mage Tower.”
“Hmm.”
The Head of House looked, for some reason, as if he regretted it.
But only for a moment.
Head of House Muhad felt something off.
The Master of the Tower just backed down?
“Ah, after that, he did make a bizarre proposal.”
“…Speak.”
“He said any book at all would be fine, so we should make the knights write diaries…”
As Hamellan spoke, he watched Muhad’s reaction.
There was no way Muhad would accept such a bizarre proposal, but somehow, Hamellan still felt uneasy.
But why?
“……”
Head of House Muhad fell silent, as if sunk in thought.
For a moment—
“Allow it.”
“…Pardon?”
Hamellan’s eyes widened.
“This old man must be hard of hearing, my lord. What did you just say…?”
He asked again, but the Head of House’s answer didn’t change.
“I said allow it.”
“Why…”
“Reflecting on oneself helps greatly in training. Among those who reach higher realms, there is no one who did not reflect on themselves.”
Hamellan was at a loss for words.
“It’s true.”
It is true, but—
Those diaries will be placed in a library.
Imagine your own diary being placed in a library. Random people leafing through it and prying into your private life in full detail—how is that not humiliating?
But—
“Then what shall we call it?”
“…We have to name it as well?”
Hamellan asked, but the Head of House did not answer, as if pondering. After a short while, he spoke.
“Yes. Since it’s writing done while building one’s cultivation. Calling it Suyangnok would be fitting.”
“……”
At this moment, Hamellan thought,
“A plague has spread through Rortel.”
And the name of that plague was the Master of the Tower.
