It was a mountain.
Ever since arriving at the ‘Sword Circle,’ I had grown thoroughly sick of this sort of scenery, and now it had been reproduced before my eyes once again.
Except this mountain was not made of earth and grass.
A mountain of iron and blood.
That was how majestic the sight created by the two weapons was. Their forms were far too grand for simple words like ‘sword’ and ‘hatchet’ to seem appropriate.
And therein lay the problem.
These weapons were already complete.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to call them historic structures. In fact, one could even say that the bloodstains upon this sword and hatchet were my history itself.
But humans merely build structures.
They do not swing them.
A weapon only gains meaning when held in the hand. Unlike a living being, a tool is given its purpose from the moment of its birth.
From that perspective, the spectacle before my eyes was an error in and of itself.
And yet the cruel part was that I could not help being captivated by it.
How could I not be?
Everything about myself that even I had not known was here.
The one missing piece that could make me whole.
And I could not bear its weight.
Resignation and acceptance were essentially the same emotion.
I quickly settled my thoughts.
To say I felt no regret would have been a lie.
Boom!
A heavy shockwave spread through the still air.
That was around the time when even the previously composed man showed a trace of surprise.
It did not matter.
Without hesitation, I continued what I had been doing.
Boom!…