149. For Whom Did You Raise Your Sword? (2)
Clatter!
“Ugh.”
My head wobbled as it was hit by falling books. Precious books shouldn’t roll on the floor. I used my superhuman reflexes to catch all the falling books. Dust swirled up thickly, and I sneezed repeatedly, trying to get rid of the dust particles that were digging into my nostrils.
“Why are the books packed so tightly?”
My hands, head, and face were covered in dust. I shook my body like a wet puppy and stepped out of the library aisle. Upon hearing the noise, the librarian shook his head. The librarian was an old, short man. His thick glasses on his bulbous nose seemed to have not been cleaned for a long time, covered in a blurry layer of smudges. The librarian closed the book he was reading and raised his head upwards.
“Well, it would be problematic if you damaged the books. Even though you’re a hero. Only a very small number of people are allowed to access this place, and only you and Her Majesty the Queen can read these documents. They are that precious and important.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I thought he would scold me, but the librarian spoke politely. I gave an awkward smile and headed to the desk with the pile of books. Thump, the dust scattered again as I placed the books on the desk. I shook my hands to get rid of the dust and carefully opened the cover of a book. The past was strictly managed even in the Kingdom of Kairos. While the founding era was connected to myths, not many people knew what had happened at that point. The moment where myths ended and history began. I opened the book to delve into that.
“…Alright.”
So, I ambitiously began to read the book, but
…Kairos declared the founding of the kingdom with the fortress of the Kairos territory as its capital.
There was no useful information in practice. I sighed deeply as I turned the last page of the third book. Even the historical records of the past were nothing more than attempts to prove the mythical legitimacy. Records of the exploits of late mythical heroes were detailed, but mentions of the evil god and disasters were scarce and fragmentary.
The seventh disaster shall be the beginning and end of all disasters.
That’s why it’s called the origin. It was a phrase that appeared in the scriptures as well. No matter how much I asked the sacred sword, her indifferent answers were all I got. Beginning and end. A shaman of the evil god, a harbinger of disaster, is said to have left those words at the very end of the mythical era. Bleeding from every orifice of his face, the shaman cursed the world where the god of light was victorious and died.
“If I could put it bluntly and straightforwardly, would it make any difference?”
I leaned back in my chair, discontented. It wasn’t fair to blame the dead. The Sacred Sword, which had experienced that era, must have known something, but I couldn’t understand why it remained silent. I took the book to the librarian. The old librarian pushed up his glasses as he looked at the stack of books on the counter.
“Did you find the information you were looking for?”
“No. There’s a lot of valuable information, but not what I’m looking for.”
I shrugged my shoulders, and the librarian smiled bitterly, as if he had expected it.
“You won’t find what you want among these dusty books. Even the author of this book might not have known the whole truth about what happened.”
The librarian took the book with his wrinkled hand and put it away in a corner.
“These are useful materials for reconstructing history, but they contain limited information. What you’re looking for isn’t here. It probably doesn’t exist in any recorded form in the world.”
I frowned at his words. It felt like the world was imposing a restriction on approaching the Seventh Calamity.
“It’s remarkable, you know. You’ve already defeated four calamities, and the last one shows no sign of revealing itself in this endless darkness. What’s your reason for going this far? What more does a hero who has saved the world four times want?”
“It’s not about such trivial things. It’s just that…”
I want to save people. I want to make this world last longer. Such thoughts. I didn’t put my thoughts into words. The librarian looked at me, resting his chin on his hand, and sighed.
“There were shamans for the evil gods. Shamans were like the incarnations of the gods themselves. But there was nothing for the god of light. Heroes were not the representatives of the gods, but of humans. That’s what I think the gods wanted.”
There were those who volunteered to be the spokespersons of the gods, but that was after the myths had ended.
“There’s no way to know why the gods hid their traces in this world. The current Holy Church has long lost communication with the gods. I’m not denying the meaning of their existence, but…”
Before I knew it, the librarian’s words had become like mutterings to himself. There were a few things that caught my attention, but they were words I couldn’t understand as I am now. I left those lingering words be. There was nothing I could do but think about them for now.
“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you. Will you stay here longer, or will you go back?”
“…I’ll go back. Thank you for your consideration.”
I bowed my head slightly and left the library. It was the height of summer. The sound of knights training, their bodies heated up, echoed throughout the palace.
“Why won’t you tell me your memories?”
“[I don’t have memories from when I was a sword in those days, Eloy. I don’t know as much as you think.]”
It seems you’re determined not to tell me. I narrowed my eyes.
“Are you denying it even though you know?”
“[Even if I knew, there would be few facts that would help.]”
I thought about the reason. Why the Sacred Sword wouldn’t tell me about the Seventh Calamity or the stories of the mythological era.
“It’s like grasping at straws. Knowing something would be helpful.”
“[Rushing to approach it won’t solve it.]”
The Sacred Sword was right. What was holding me back was merely the lingering words. The pushed and pushed words were piled up against the wall, unable to seep out. It wasn’t just because the ‘original work’ didn’t come to mind. Even if I were to give up here, and everything would be resolved smoothly, I felt that I would miss out on something important that I needed to know.
“Alright. I’ll start by organizing the information I’ve collected.”
I mustn’t let go. Of the lingering words, of the thoughts that occasionally come to mind. I couldn’t let them slip away. I had to gather the fragments together. To catch what I missed, somehow.
“[Ilroy.]”
The voice of the sacred sword ringing in my head interrupted my thoughts. The sound of a horse neighing and struggling reached my ears from right beside me. Turning my head, I saw a four-wheeled carriage stopped in front of me. The warm breath of the horse passed by me on the wind.
“Ah, you damn fool, how are we supposed to move if you’re standing there!”
I heard the coachman’s angry voice. I hesitated, stepped back, and bowed my head apologetically.
“I’m sorry.”
“Good grief, you crazy fool. If you’re going to die, do it gracefully. What kind of rich family’s child are you…”
Then, the coachman froze.
“Ah, uh, my apologies, Hero… That’s not what I meant…”
“It’s alright. I apologize for blocking the road.”
I quickly moved away from the spot. The gazes of passersby were half on me and half on the coachman. Embarrassed by the silence, I hid my true nature. No sound came from the distance I had left.
“[Take a walk or something. Your head must feel full.]”
I nodded. I knew from my experience in the fog. If I let my thoughts push me around, I’m prone to making mistakes. I shouldn’t let a momentary thought control my body.
“Let’s go a bit farther.”
Suppressing the pounding in my heart, I raised my mana. The ground pushed me up, and I received the force with my feet, gently rising into the air. I wouldn’t need to show my pass today. I threw myself into the sky. The sun was shining brightly.
It was an odd feeling. The rising and setting of the sun seemed immense, but I felt no smaller in front of it. The ground was far below me. I was distant from both the sky and the earth.
“[How is it?]”
It was an ambiguous question, but I could answer it.
“It feels free. Like I can go anywhere. It’s a privilege.”
“[You can literally go anywhere, can’t you?]”
I nodded in the sky. Suddenly, a place I wanted to go came to mind. I turned my body and began to walk. Treading on thin air still felt unnatural. Outside the city walls, I headed deep inland to the southeast. I had never been there before, but I could find it. I moved my feet, groping for memories and a past that didn’t exist.
“[…You’re heading to an odd place.]”
“I felt like I had to go there. I should have visited at least once.”
I smiled faintly. The area I was walking through was a grassland. Amidst the scattered bushes, tall grass swayed. I slowly descended to the ground. The grass bent the opposite way as I moved. Looking down at the ground, I could see the remnants of what was once a path.
“It’s been a while.”
Unconsciously, those words slipped from my mouth. Memories that shouldn’t exist faintly surfaced. These must be memories from before I possessed Illoy. Or perhaps it’s just a feeling. The stone path was sparse and connected. At the end of the connected path, I saw a pile of crumbled stones. The huge ruins hidden behind the landscape of grass and stone were almost surreal.
“Do you remember the time you spent there?”
“[I remember.]”
Hundreds or thousands of years. In that place, the sacred sword had been searching for someone – someone to choose her. The sword answered with a faint voice, as if reminiscing about that time.
“Weren’t you lonely?”
A foolish question. I knew it too. The sacred sword laughed first. I chuckled awkwardly and listened to the sound of her laughter. The laughter of the sword blended with the light breeze.
“[I wasn’t bored. I could sleep if I wanted to, and it was fun to watch the people who came to challenge me. Why, are you feeling pity for me?]”
“Maybe. Everyone needs a little sympathy.”
“[How amusing. Sympathy for a mere sword. You should learn to feel pity for yourself.]”
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It wasn’t just a mere sword. I wanted to say that, but the words got stuck in my throat. I swallowed them back and moved closer to the ruins.
“…So this is the place.”
The place where it all began. The place where Illoy was chosen as the hero. For some reason, I felt a strange sense of comfort, as if I had returned home. There was a reverence, like a temple. Perhaps it was once a temple in the past. I glanced at the pile of stones and approached the central rock.
“[Do you see the groove there?]”
“Yeah. Was it here?”
There was a long, thin groove in the center of the rock. Rainwater had collected in the groove.
“Will there ever come a time when I have to return you here?”
“[I don’t think so, but do you want to put me down?]”
I laughed. It wasn’t a question that needed an answer. A nostalgic feeling. I continued to stare at the rock. On a rainy day, I could see Illoy sitting on that rock, embracing the sacred sword. Illoy lowered his head, and then suddenly looked up. Our eyes met. In Illoy’s eyes, I saw dark clouds and the forest. I quietly gazed into those eyes.
Empty. A mirror-like shell was all that remained there.
—
When I returned to the base, it was night. I sensed someone’s presence near the door and furrowed my brows. It wasn’t time for Daphne or Marianne to return yet.
“…What happened?”
I flung the door open and entered the base. The first thing I noticed was the smell. A damp, muddy odor, the scent of wet cloth and metal. And the unmistakable stench of blood. My eyes quickly adjusted and focused on the figure sprawled on the floor of the lobby.
“Hero…sir.”
A familiar face. The black priest’s robe belonged to an Inquisitor of Heresy. Struggling for breath and with a feeble voice, I quickly approached the Inquisitor and lifted her up. The hood of the robe fell back, revealing her face. She was a woman in her late teens, with her hair tied back.
“What happened?”
I drew a bit of mana to stop the bleeding. I tore the robe and priest’s clothes to check her wounds. There were slash wounds. Deep ones. She didn’t look good. I slowly transferred some of my mana to help her recover. Stammering, her lips began to move.
“Mercenary… The bishop…”
Upon hearing the Inquisitor’s next words, my face hardened.