Chapter 2
Three years ago.
"In the name of the great Valterus, I appoint you as a Pilgrim of the Sword."
Inside the Valterus Order.
"Callias. I bestow upon you the holy mark and token of Valterus..."
The holy mark shall caress the back of your hand, proving you are a child of God.
The token shall weigh upon your neck, making you feel that the Parent watches over you.
"Do not forget that finding your sword is the purpose of a pilgrim who walks the path of pilgrimage."
When the holy mark was stamped on the back of my hand.
When the rosario was hung around my neck.
"Ah..."
I was reborn as Callias, a believer of Valterus and a Pilgrim of the Sword.
And only then did I know.
That this world I was reborn into was a world I had created.
[Path of the Pilgrim]
A major game project I had participated in developing. There, I served as a story writer and producer, and when the game was on the verge of completion...
'I was murdered.'
I don't remember why I was murdered.
But the cold touch of the blade piercing my lower back and the chilling sensation of my neck being slit still torment me.
Yes. I was murdered.
And.
"I was reborn."
That was the one fact I learned while wandering until now.
I couldn't help but know.
Because all the characters in this world were ones I had created.
Callias.
Even the existence of this character, now my name, was something I had created.
So I couldn't not know.
As it was a massive project, the story portion also took up an enormous amount.
Development period: ten years.
I put stories into each and every character. If it had been another game, I wouldn't have gone that far.
But in [Path of the Pilgrim], it couldn't be helped. The very beginning of this game was turning dead characters into swords.
A person becomes a weapon.
What started from that idea was precisely [Path of the Pilgrim].
Even the NPCs of a nameless small village.
As long as it's alive, anything can be made into a weapon.
Because of that setting, I had to write stories for all characters, and that's why I easily realized this was the world of the game I had participated in.
And thanks to that, I knew.
'Who I need to turn into a Carcass sword.'
Who I should make to increase my chances of survival.
The stats of a Carcass sword vary greatly depending on what and who it was made from.
One's presence and potential in life.
And the sum of one's influence on the world determines the Carcass sword's stats.
The more significance one has in the story, the more powerful they become when turned into a sword, enough to sway the world's hegemony— isn't that obvious?
'The Carcass sword of a nameless person is mostly only slightly stronger than a normal sword.'
But a soldier on the battlefield.
From knights onward, it changes a bit.
There are five grades of swords in total.
Carcass, Life, Spirit, Vision, and at the end...
There is a divine sword called God.
My goal is to obtain the divine sword and preserve my life from the heretics of the Empire who target the Pilgrims and the Carpe Kingdom.
And if possible...
'Reviving the god.'
I have a small wish that Valterus might know why I came to be here.
However, the reality is that even preserving my life right now is difficult.
"At best, about five years from now."
Within five years, the Carpe Kingdom will be destroyed by the exiled heretical gods and their followers, and the god Valterus and its believers will all be annihilated.
I, too, as a Pilgrim of Valterus.
Cannot escape their eyes.
'Because I can't even apostatize with this body.'
Pitch-black hair, ashen pupils.
I ended up living the life of Callias von Zerban, one of the sacred seven houses that bear the appearance of God.
If I were to apostatize with such a conspicuous appearance, I would be killed by the Order before the heretical gods could get to me.
If there's one fortunate thing.
"The writer was me."
The fact that I wrote most of the story for this unfinished game.
Callias.
The connections and ties regarding this body.
And even the stories related to those ties, I know inside and out.
Five years until the kingdom's fall.
Within that time, I must devise means to protect myself.
There are roughly two methods.
"Find a powerful sword and become stronger."
Otherwise, the request of the sword.
Fulfilling Corpse Grace and growing stronger through its reward.
Swish.
Even among the corpses at my feet.
I can see them.
The grudges they held in life glimmer like pale moonlight, radiating their presence.
Ordinary pilgrims cannot see them, so they become stronger by swinging swords and training their divine power.
But I am different. Because I can see them.
Corpses imbued with resentment.
If I make this into a Carcass sword, another method of growth is given.
Also known as Corpse Grace.
Secret Quest. The Grace of Corpses.
Among the many corpses scattered at my feet.
Make the corpse with the strongest resentment into a Carcass sword. And if I fulfill their wishes after they become Carcass swords, they share with me the power I need.
I don't know what they'll give.
'Quest reward design wasn't under my jurisdiction.'
For nearly three years, I achieved basic growth by listening to the stories of these trivial Carcass swords and repeatedly resolving their grudges.
Thanks to that, the current me can beat knights of the battlefield to death even with bare hands, and I could turn most borderland magical beasts into meat chunks without weapons.
But I'm still not satisfied.
At this level, facing the Empire's fanatics is impossible.
Shimmer.
Silver light swirls and is born in a new form in my grasp.
Click.
"A rapier?"
A thin and long rapier.
Width: three centimeters. Length: one meter forty.
Well-balanced, flexible yet quite sturdy.
It was a Carcass sword close to the Life rank.
"A rapier... A female knight."
I didn't know because she was wearing a helmet.
But looking at the sword's condition, her potential in life didn't seem bad.
I looked at the rapier.
The soft light emanating from it began to tell me her wish from when she was alive.
Though I say it's easy to express, it's not.
Their grudge simply enters my mind and shows me what they desire.
The wishes of those who died in troubled times are mostly similar.
Unjust death desires revenge.
Or speaks of lingering attachments to things left behind.
"I picked up a troublesome one."
The Carcass sword's memory that flowed into my mind revealed the appearance of a castle and several faces.
Among them, the figure of a blonde boy who looked like a son was the most vivid.
This time, probably.
"I guess I need to find her son..."
It was a mother's lingering attachment, worrying about the son she left behind.
* * *
Toret, a small fiefdom located near the northwestern border.
A place too small and shabby to be called a fiefdom, more like a rural village.
Traces of where the rapier's owner lived exist here.
Callias looked around the fiefdom a bit and strode toward the lord's castle.
The residents glancing at him murmured that he was a pilgrim.
'They're not rejecting me.'
At least they're not throwing stones, so this was fortunate.
Unless it's a noble's mansion, the treatment is garbage, so Callias let out a sigh without realizing.
Feeling relieved just because they weren't throwing stones made him feel wretched inside.
"Mr. Pilgrim, please take this."
"?"
The moment he was sighing.
A young girl brought a wildflower and handed it to him.
"......"
Receiving a flower gift for the first time in his life, Callias's thoughts stopped.
The three years of memories where only stones and swords flew at him flashed before his eyes like a passing lantern.
"Did you also come to catch the bad guys who are bothering our village, Mr. Pilgrim?"
The girl with bright eyes offering a gaze of admiration seemed to have high favorability toward pilgrims.
Callias, who had been dazed, soon regained his focus.
'Mr. Pilgrim "also"?'
There was something that could be inferred from the girl's words.
"Is there another pilgrim besides me?"
Callias's eyes sharpened.
"Yes! That person subjugated the bandits in Toret! So now it's very convenient for us to go outside the village."
"Hey, Eri! Don't be rude to the Pilgrim!"
One of the villagers called the girl's name and bowed his head to Callias.
The girl called Eri blinked a smile and disappeared, and Callias fell into deep thought.
"Where is that pilgrim right now?"
"In the lord's castle! Bye-bye then!"
Eri disappeared, and Callias immediately ran toward the lord's castle.
'Pilgrims don't bestow favors.'
The current pilgrims of the Valterus Order do not bestow favors without compensation.
What could an Order that only has the skill of turning corpses into swords bestow upon residents who have nothing to offer?
'The pilgrim's purpose is only swords.'
Stronger swords. More powerful swords.
Only that.
So if a pilgrim bestowed a favor, there must certainly be a reason for it.
'If this goes wrong...'
Corpse Grace. Lord's castle. Pilgrim.
Assumptions quickly assembled in his mind. Strength entered the hand gripping the rapier.
"Uh, w-wait!"
"Who are you!"
He passed the guards at the gate and leaped over the wall.
The leg strength trained over three years accomplished that easily.
Whoosh!
Thud!
Dash!
Seeing Callias rushing through the wind, they shout.
"Who the hell are you!"
These weren't soldiers guarding the lord's castle.
'The condition of their equipment is terrible.'
An appearance of patched-together leather and what looked like salvaged clothing.
Faces full of wounds, unkempt and dirty attire.
They're mercenaries.
"What are you doing! Stop that guy!!"
Callias's fist-clenched shoulder was pulled back.
And shot forward.
Bam!
"Guh!"
One mercenary knocked down by Callias's fist rolled on the ground.
When the big guy was knocked down with one blow, they flinched.
"Dieeee! Gah!"
He grabbed the neck of a mercenary rushing at him with a weapon.
Gasp gasp! As if choking, the guy's face turned red.
A nothing-special mercenary.
Moreover, the physical ability honed through quests over the past three years was not at a level that mediocre mercenaries could handle.
"Where is the pilgrim."
Callias hoped it wasn't the situation he was thinking of.
But it kept coming to mind.
'I think I wrote a story like this.'
He didn't remember exactly, but he vaguely recalled writing something similar.
After writing sub-stories for nearly ten years, it's natural that not everything comes to mind clearly.
But a young lord.
A pilgrim targeting such a lord.
It's not that nothing comes to mind.
"L-Lord, in the office with..."
"Crazy! Why would you tell him that!"
"But the captain's going to die."
Thud!
Callias released the mercenary called captain and immediately ran to the office.
'I don't need to go this far, but...'
Click.
The rapier hanging at his waist.
It had no scabbard.
A scabbard is where a sword returns.
But Carcass swords have no scabbard. Where they return is not a scabbard, but the embrace of God.
Callias, having drawn the rapier, kicked the office door.
Bang!
And what he saw was.
"Ah..."
A young lord with a sword pointed at his chin, and an unnamed pilgrim pointing the sword at him.