Chapter 90 : The Prodigal

Rumble… groooan—

With a thunderous sound, the massive doors slowly parted to either side.

Dust poured down in clouds, as if the hinges hadn’t moved in centuries.

“Ugh.”

I waved my hand in front of my face and waited until the haze settled.

And then—

“…What the—”

The dust cloud shimmered, turning golden, before exploding into a blinding radiance that stabbed at our eyes.

“…!”

As the haze cleared, the sight before us left us speechless.

Piles upon piles of gold and jewels glittered, so bright it made me squint.

Even at a glance, the wealth was staggering.

We all froze, dumbstruck.

I gave Shushruta, who stood gaping beside me, a nudge on the shoulder.

“Lead the way.”

“R-right. Of course.”

Snapping back to her senses, she strode into the treasure vault.

We followed behind.

Crystals, like the ones embedded along the stairway, glowed faintly from the ceiling. But here, the room seemed ablaze—the light ricocheted off the endless gold and jewels, scattering brilliance in every direction.

Chests lay open, coins spilled across the floor in careless heaps.

“Whoa…”

It was a sea of treasure.

There’s an old saying about treating gold as mere stone.

Whoever owned this hoard must have lived by it, tossing riches here without a second thought.

As if each time some fortune fell into his lap, he muttered in annoyance and dumped it in this underground vault.

[……Haahm.]

The Heavenly Demon yawned, instantly bored.

When monsters appeared, he’d sparkled with interest—but treasure, apparently, didn’t cut it.

Maybe this tomb had belonged to him in another life.

“Stay sharp. There could still be traps.”

Shushruta walked carefully down the narrow path between the treasure piles, the rest of us watching our steps.

“Don’t even think about touching anything. Especially you!”

She spun suddenly, pointing.

There sat Linda, crouched low, hand stretched out toward a jewel.

Startled by the scolding, Linda quickly drew back.

“I didn’t touch it yet.”

“But you were about to.”

“….”

She turned to me with wide, pleading eyes.

I glared back, silently telling her to behave.

Linda pouted and shuffled to her feet, trailing after us with slumped shoulders.

“Hmph.”

Shushruta pressed on, wary not to brush against the scattered gold.

Gold underfoot, like loose pebbles. It was absurd.

She kept a careful pace all the way to the far end of the chamber, then nodded.

“No traps in here.”

The words had barely left her mouth before Linda reached again toward the treasure.

“Not so fast!” Shushruta barked. “That was not permission to touch! Who knows what curses lie upon them?”

“…Tch.”

Linda stuck out her lip like a sulky child.

Like watching a hissing cat square off with a rambunctious puppy.

I sighed and turned to Curtis.

“Sir Curtis.”

“Yes, Devil.”

“Keep an eye on her. Don’t let her lay a finger on anything.”

“…Understood.”

At the end of the glittering passage stood another door.

Unlike the monumental gate before, this one was modest—just large enough for a single person.

It too bore a long, narrow slot, as if a blade had once been thrust into it.

And across the door was inscribed a phrase in bold letters:

“Only the worthy may enter.”

Arms crossed, I read it aloud.

“Doesn’t sound like it’ll open easy.”

“Likely not,” Shushruta said. “According to Hans, the Ninth Sword lies within. But if one without worth steps through, they will never return.”

“How do you tell if someone’s worthy?”

“That, I don’t know.”

“…So there’s another trial?”

“Perhaps. My guess—one must hold the Demon Sword without being consumed by it. Ophosis feared the Ninth Sword above all else.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Hans himself never entered. Only Ophosis went in, alone, from time to time.”

“Then Hans couldn’t have seen what’s inside at the funeral either, huh.”

“Exactly. By then, he’d already been driven from the forge—though we know now it was only to secretly dispose of the dagger.”

I nodded.

“In other words… the only way is to go in and find out.”

“Indeed.”

Without hesitation, I shoved the dagger into the slot.

Vmm—

The blade thrummed, resonating.

On the other side, faint beeps echoed strangely.

Then—

Kugugung! Groooan!

The door swung open soundlessly, as if guided by ghosts.

Beyond lay nothing but pure black.

Not a trace of light.

I peered into it, then glanced back.

“Well, I’ll be off.”

Voices followed me.

“We’ll be waiting.”

“Devil! You’d better come back quick!”

Shushruta met my eyes.

“Ashuban. You’ll be fine… won’t you?”

“You call that a question?”

Grinning, I shoved her face playfully with my palm. She swatted my hand away with a scowl.

I chuckled and stepped into the darkness.

Ssshhk—

The door sealed behind me.

The chamber was swallowed whole by darkness.

No light seeped in, no matter how long I stood.

Not a glimmer, not a speck.

It was as though the goddess of night herself had poured liquid shadow into the room.

After a while, I couldn’t even tell whether my eyes were open or closed.

Dark when I opened them. Dark when I shut them.

So in the end, I simply closed them.

And stretched out my senses.

Strangely, the darkness seemed to retreat a little when I did.

Sometimes, closing your eyes makes things clearer.

Or not. Whatever.

My qi spread outward, brushing against the room, mapping it for me.

Not very large—about ten meters square.

[What a peculiar place.]

The Heavenly Demon, interest rekindled, murmured softly.

“Looks like nothing more than a pitch-dark room to me.”

[It isn’t just darkness. It feels… disconnected. Separate.]

“…Really?”

[Just a hunch. But it would be unwise to linger too long.]

“Duly noted.”

I walked forward a few steps.

Ahead stood a waist-high pedestal.

Upon it lay a single sword.

“…So that’s the Ninth Sword.”

But I couldn’t just reach out and grab it.

A thin barrier covered the pedestal.

I wrapped qi around my fingertip and flicked the surface.

Ting!

Whatever it was made of, it was solid—lighter than iron, yet stronger.

“Hm.”

Shing—

I started to draw my blade to smash it, but the Heavenly Demon stopped me.

[It said to prove your worth, didn’t it?]

“…True.”

[And breaking things—is that what you call proving worth?]

“…Point taken.”

Breaking it hardly seemed like a worthy test. There had to be another way.

I ran my hand along the underside of the pedestal.

“Of course.”

My fingers found a familiar groove—another of those dagger-shaped keyholes.

Trust Ophosis to get full mileage out of his key.

Click—

I slid the dagger into place. Something locked.

The dagger shuddered, then—

Ssshhh—

The metallic shell over the pedestal dissolved away.

“There we go.”

Smiling in satisfaction, I reached toward the sword.

{Who are you?}

A voice.

Startled, I jumped back, scanning with sharpened senses.

But nothing. No presence, no source.

The voice didn’t come from any one spot—it felt as though the entire chamber itself was speaking.

“Who’s there?”

{I asked first. Who are you, to question me so?}

The tone was like that of a dignified old man.

I had no choice but to answer.

“Ashuban. And you?”

{Ashuban… Wait.}

The air shifted.

Mana in the room drew toward the pedestal, swirling as though sucked in.

It channeled through the dagger, gathering at the pommel like a bead of water—then dropped.

Ssshh—

Where it struck the floor, mana vaporized, rising as smoke that began to take shape.

I opened my eyes wide as the form coalesced.

A faint, glowing figure of an elderly man stood before me.

I didn’t need an introduction to know who it was.

“…Ophosis?”

The old man nodded.

{That is my name.}

“But you… you’re dead. You died long ago.”

{I did.}

He admitted it without hesitation.

{This is but a fragment of my consciousness I left behind.}

“That’s… possible?”

{It is. Have you heard of Ego Swords?}

“I’ve heard the term.”

{A simple variation of that.}

“….”

Not my business. I let it go.

Ophosis looked past me, toward the door.

{You came with companions, didn’t you?}

“In a manner of speaking.”

{It has been a long time. Do you know how my disciples fare?}

I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it, but decided honesty was best.

“They’re all dead.”

{……}

“Their disciples, their descendants—all gone, or so I’ve heard.”

Ophosis fell silent.

“I’m sorry.”

{…I see.}

He gave a wry smile.

{And the prodigal? Has he too passed on?}

“Prodigal…?”

It took me a moment before realization struck.

Hans.

Judging from the way Ophosis spoke, Hans must have been quite the troublemaker in his youth.

“The prodigal became a family man.”

{Hm?}

“He has a kind wife named Julia, and a mischievous daughter named Joy.”

{That rascal… with a family?}

“Yes. He bickers with his wife often, but they make a fine family.”

{Wahaha!}

Ophosis’s shoulders shook as he burst into hearty laughter.

I joined in without thinking.

“Hahaha!”

{Hah hah hah!}

When at last his laughter ebbed, he looked at me with warmth in his eyes.

{To think I’d live to hear that. That brat, a father…}

I nodded.

“Life’s full of surprises.”

Ophosis studied me.

{And how did you come to know my youngest disciple?}

“He saved me. Pulled me back from the brink when I fell off a cliff.”

{A bond, then.}

“A bond indeed.”

We exchanged a glance and both smiled.

And in that moment, I understood something about him.

To others, Ophosis might be a legendary smith.

But to me, he was just a kind-hearted old man with a big laugh.

Simple, warm, caring—and stubborn.

The sort of elder you could find in any village.

And yet, men like him, with too much talent, are the ones dragged into tragedy.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

(End of Chapter)

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