Chapter 127 : Chapter 127

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 127 – Cherville (6)

“Don’t be like that, child. What we can offer you is limited. There’s a boundary to our help. Stop entertaining foolish thoughts and at least—”

“I don’t want to.”

“Even if you keep fighting, it’s wise to have a final way out, isn’t it? Please, just listen to your ancestors for once. We’re not doing this for our own good—it’s all for—”

“No.”

“Whose temperament did you inherit, I wonder? In our time, descendants would say, ‘Yes, thank you,’ when their ancestors spoke—”

“Nope.”

“……”

I held overwhelming superiority in the conversation. How? Simple—those who can’t be reasoned with always win in a debate.

Persuasion and compromise require two sides to communicate. Since I kept repeating the same answer, my ancestors eventually gave up.

They acknowledged my resolve. Once again, the Steel Face never failed. Praise be to my master.

“Fine. If that’s your will, then so be it. And if even the Founder himself is staying with you, what could insignificant ones like us possibly do? The world of the living must follow the will of the living.”

My ancestors had fully accepted that I was a person who couldn’t be persuaded. They could’ve realized that sooner—what a waste of time. While I stared blankly, they sighed deeply.

“You will not learn the way to escape from the Swordmaster.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You will not see even a fragment of forgotten history. You’ll witness less than Vermartin did. Does it not matter to you, missing the moment Karavan fell?”

“It’s all just the past. What I need is the power to live in the present and the strength to forge my future. I’ll learn from history if I can, but now’s not the time to look back.”

“…There’s depth in those words. Very well, I understand.”

The three spirits looked at me.

“Then, draw your sword.”

***

The three spirits taught me many things.

They showed me the proper way to use the Wings of Steel.

The Immovable Form I’d awakened while dueling Edan Rhapsody was creative, they said—but not the correct use of it.

“By not moving, you achieve both the best defense and the best offense. It’s an excellent concept. But your method focuses far too much on confronting the strong.”

“Indeed. The way you fight—the very way you wield your absorbed sword—is built solely for battling those stronger than you. To an obsessive degree.”

“That’s not a bad thing, child. But not every enemy you face from now on will be a Sword Expert or Swordmaster. You must also learn how to defeat those weaker than you—many, weaker enemies.”

“There will be many such battles to come.”

They were right. I was no longer an absolute underdog. I’d become a Sword Runner, and with the Mysteries I’d awakened and the blades I’d absorbed, I could now hold a considerable advantage even against others of the same rank.

“We will now teach you the true way to wield the Wings of Steel. And in addition, not the method devised by the Founder, but one of our own swords—a Karavan sword that we created independently.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot pass down all three. Within the authority of this Land of the Small Sword, we can bestow only one.”

Another Sword of Karavan. That alone was worth giving up the others. I looked at each of the three spirits—the old man, the young man, and the beautiful woman. Which of their swords would suit me best?

“Hmm. The sword that fits you best would likely be—”

Would it be the young spirit, who seemed closest to my age and build? Or perhaps the old man?

As I was debating, a clear, bright voice interrupted.

“—It’ll be mine, after all.”

The one who spoke wasn’t even among my initial guesses.

A beautiful woman—she looked in her mid-twenties, holding a rusty sword as she slowly approached. I stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Why that face, child? Are you disappointed that I’ll be the one giving you mine?”

Honestly, I was. Not because she was a woman, but because from the young man I’d sensed sharpness, and from the old man, solidity. From her, though, there was… nothing. Just a warm, motherly gentleness.

“Yes, perhaps a little—”

But then—

The moment the sword in her hand tilted and aimed at me, I realized how mistaken I’d been.

For a brief instant, she became the absolute ruler of this realm—her presence far beyond that of the other two.

“……”

“Still disappointed?”

She smiled softly.

I quickly shook my head.

“No, it suits me perfectly. Forgive this foolish descendant. I’ve wanted your magnificent sword from the very beginning.”

“Haha, you truly are a strange one, child.”

The rusty sword spun once in her hand.

“Even so, I can only pass down a fragment of my sword. The reason I chose to give mine to you… is because you resemble me.”

“Resemble you, ma’am?”

“Yes. You’re like me.”

She smiled faintly.

“A weak body by birth, lacking talent… a beautiful face. And—”

Within that serene smile—

“—you live for vengeance, just like I did.”

—lay a hidden blade of ice.

“Pleased to meet you, child.”

Thus I met— the first female Swordmaster.

“I hope my White Night proves valuable to you.”

It was my first encounter with Aria Karavan.

***

Time in the Land of the Small Sword passed quickly. Their teachings were purely verbal, yet they soaked into me naturally—like a blade I’d swallowed and digested. In that pitch-black world, I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. When I finally felt I’d learned enough, my ancestors spoke.

“It’s time to part ways.”

I didn’t know how long it had been, yet it felt like a moment.

“There’s something we must say before you go.”

As their forms blurred and the darkness cracked apart, the spirits raised their hands over my head and spoke, faces filled with pride. Their voices aligned perfectly—sincere and unwavering.

“Thank you… for living.”

Something warm pressed against my chest. As the Land of the Small Sword began to crumble, signaling our farewell, Aria Karavan’s lips moved. She spoke her final words as her body faded.

“Child, if you survive… go to the Dwarven Kingdom.”

“The Dwarven Kingdom…?”

“There lies… a clue.”

The spirits shattered, one by one.

Aria’s voice echoed faintly as her body disappeared.

“In the Golden Vault, lies the key to transcendence… the possibility… for you to survive to the very end…”

And with that— I was expelled from the Land of the Small Sword.

『The Age of Steel has fallen.』

『The sword that defeated us spoke.』

A faint voice whispered—

『You should never have existed. Karavan must vanish. I will erase the name of Steel from this continent. I will destroy all that bears that hateful steel.』

『Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.』

『So remember this, last descendant of Steel.』

Fragments of forgotten history— a mere sliver of it reached me.

『Never face the Swords of Heaven. They are the natural enemies of Steel.』

***

“—Hah!”

When I opened my eyes, I saw Vermartin’s office.

“So, you’ve awakened? Did you receive the history well—”

Vermartin looked at me, but before he could continue, the old book beside him suddenly caught fire. The flames burned bright and fierce, consuming the book entirely until nothing but ash remained—and then vanished, as though they’d existed solely for that purpose.

Vermartin silently stared at the ashes.

“…Seems you’ve received it properly.”

He stopped what he was about to say, carefully gathered the ashes, and placed them in a glass bottle taken from his drawer. Sealing it away, he spoke softly.

“It’s an honor to finally fulfill an old promise, Arhan. Though it saddens me that I must part with the masters I served for so long. I’ve never spoken with them directly, but… I’d grown quite fond of them.”

His face showed both joy and melancholy. Understandably so—according to the ancestors, Vermartin had served them as masters for decades, ever since his days as a lowly swordsman.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaled, and smiled.

“So, was what you received… worth it?”

At his question, I closed my eyes for a moment, recalling what I had gained from the Land of the Small Sword. Then I answered,

“Immensely.”

At that, Vermartin chuckled.

“I’m glad to hear that. But my promise isn’t yet fulfilled. The vow of Vermartin the Steel isn’t just to deliver an item—but to stand as a steadfast ally to the heir of Steel. That’s why I bear the name Vermartin the Steel. The reason a once-insignificant swordsman could inherit that name.”

The Knight Commander, Vermartin.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word. This old man still has some fame left here in Blade City. In the Ashen Knight Order, few can best me in combat. And beyond skill—there are the connections, trust, and political reach I’ve built for decades. None of that is easy to find. If you need it, I’ll help you with anything—truly, anything.”

A giant of Blade City had just become my ally.

***

I was not someone who refused gifts. I accepted with full gratitude. So I asked Vermartin for every bit of help I could—supplies for my group, and shortcuts through border procedures.

“Easier than twisting a child’s wrist,” he said.

Vermartin prepared all the documents and cleared the military bureaucracy for me. Border-crossing? With his signature, it was all but a free pass. As an old knight who’d never caused trouble in decades, his trustworthiness was unmatched. In Blade City, none could rival Vermartin in reputation.

For us, that help was priceless. Our group severely lacked something to offer the world—trust.

A cranky Witch, a gladiator-turned-steward, a young provincial lord, a child who’d once been an apprentice to a black magician, an Eastern war orphan-turned-swordsman, and an orc who spoke like a noble… Truly, the very picture of unreliability.

But now—

“With Sir Vermartin’s signature, I’ll trust it.”

We had a universal seal of approval. Vermartin’s signature was invincible.

“Anything else I can do?”

“No, not for now.”

“Then where will you go next?”

“I’ll probably go meet my companions.”

Vermartin smiled faintly.

“Then it’s farewell for now. As much as I’d like to join your journey, it’ll be more helpful if I stay here in Blade City. Within these walls, I’m still someone of note. Beyond them… I’d be just another old man who’s still decent with a sword.”

He even had humility. Not a pompous old man, but one with self-awareness. I could’ve given him a standing ovation, truly.

“You’re far better than my master.”

「……」

Liam said nothing. Meanwhile, Vermartin gave me advice on what to watch out for outside the Iron Kingdom—how to camp safely, the rules of the Sky Empire, and its taboos. Everything he said was practical and valuable. Before I left, he even handed me a pouch heavy with Steel Coins, saying, “A man without weight in his purse has no confidence.”

Though, as a premium client of the Red Bank, I had far more money than that—I made sure not to show it. I mixed the perfect ratio of pitiful and grateful expressions and said sincerely,

“Truly… thank you.”

My eyes even glistened convincingly with tears. And thus, having gained everything I could, I left the Yellow Elephant Knight Order’s headquarters. It had been one of my luckiest days yet—perhaps one of the most rewarding as well. I almost wanted to declare it a Karavan holiday—Vermartin Day.

…Why hadn’t I noticed it sooner? It had happened so many times before.

It was always the same.

「Smile while you can.」

Whenever I was too lucky—when everything went too well—

「Smile plenty.」

Something truly, catastrophically, shitty always followed.

Something beyond my ability to handle.

Something truly, horrifically—fucked up.