Chapter 96
Clang-tang.
The sound of hammering echoed rhythmically. The sword blade on the anvil glowed red hot, and the bellows stoking the forge grew even stronger.
Clang-!
With each strike of the hammer, small impurities vanished into sparks.
When the red-hot blade was plunged into the water trough, it bubbled vigorously.
But the reason this place was slightly different from other forges was—
"O God."
The blacksmiths were reciting the order's sacred verse and praying.
A forge where the order's holy smiths resided.
In the sweltering heat hot enough to cook skin, Helena stood beside a holy smith hammering away, her entire body draped in a cloak.
"How is it?"
"Fine. You could use it for a thousand years without any problems. You've taken good care of it."
"Of course. It's the same as my life. There really aren't any other problems, right?"
"None. Paladins making a fuss is something I never get used to seeing no matter how many times I witness it. Who do you think made it? This fellow is my magnum opus. It's fine, so don't worry."
Two swords with different appearances.
Yet the two were the famous Snake and Shadow, known as a paired set.
Helena's twin swords, Yuclin.
"You know that Yuclin is among the top five masterpieces of all the swords I've made."
He was the most influential man among the order's holy smiths.
The chief of the holy smiths.
Gregory.
The wrinkles showing traces of time and his pure white beard and hair revealed his old age, but his large frame and bulging, veiny arm muscles proclaimed he was still active.
"The number of spirit swords and noble soul fragments that went into your Yuclin aren't something that would cause problems at this level, so don't worry."
Gregory's maintenance was complete.
Having carefully received Yuclin back, she shrugged and replied.
"Well, that's how paladins are. As long as you're bound by sword and soul, if the sword is damaged, you yourself will inevitably be harmed as well."
Paladins who have created a scabbard, mingling part of their soul with their sword, tend to be like that.
For only when it is the sword they have chosen as their lifelong companion do they create a scabbard and offer everything they have.
If the sword is damaged, they are damaged as well.
That is the bond of the soul.
"Helena."
"What?"
Helena's lips curved pleasantly as she stroked the gleaming, meticulously maintained Yuclin.
Maintaining spirit swords was originally something one did oneself, but Helena always came to the order's forge and asked him.
Because Gregory was the very man who had created the twin swords Yuclin.
"Do you know Gid's whereabouts?"
"Gid? The holy smith Gid?"
"Yes."
"He's dead, isn't he? I heard he committed the taboo of putting a living human into the furnace, or am I wrong?"
"...That's correct."
Gregory's blunt face grew even more blunt.
Helena's brow furrowed.
"He's alive, isn't he."
Everyone in the order desires a sword containing the best and strongest qualities to offer to God.
This is from the belief that only by offering a sword that satisfies God can they find rest in God's embrace.
"Do you know what the dream of holy smiths is?"
"To forge a high-grade sword?"
"Yes. We can't make anything and everything like the dwarves who turn humans into minerals, but we have our own history and depth."
Holy smiths mostly forge swords through methods quite different from ordinary pilgrims.
Its beginning was for the purpose of creating more efficient spirit swords.
"A spirit sword made from a beggar on the street is still a spirit sword, and one made from an arrogant noble who doesn't know how high the sky is produces a spirit sword with little difference. Then by what principle and judgment are high-grade swords created?"
"What is it?"
"Pride. It's the difference between having pride and not having it. Then what is pride? Pride is something that must be protected even at the cost of death, and yet something that must be able to be brushed off before small lives."
That is what pride is.
"Therefore, depending on their disposition and reputation in life, the order's members assign grades to dead flesh and bring it into the forge."
Gregory took out an ingot with a faint luster and showed it.
"If the spirit sword ritual is not fully performed, the dead flesh becomes a state that is neither sword nor flesh. That is roasted with fire and hammered into an ingot."
Refining that ingot again into a sword and performing the complete ritual to make it into a perfect spirit sword—that is the work of a holy smith.
"Your Yuclin was also made this way."
"I know. You said it was barely made by mixing several high-grade ingots."
"Yes."
"But what does that have to do with Gid..."
"To be honest, the swords made by the order's holy smiths are not very efficient. Mixing multiple ingots certainly increases the probability of a higher grade, but the risk of collapse is just as great."
Thus, the completion rate was 20 to 30 percent overall.
If high-grade ingots were used, it was less than 10 percent.
It was a probability close to abysmal.
"We thought this was due to the leakage and destruction of souls. But there was nothing we could do about it. We thought that much had to be accepted in order to create a sword of higher grade."
However.
"There was one who thought differently."
"To prevent soul leakage... Gid boiled humans alive."
"Yes."
To forge a holy sword to offer to God, he committed the taboo forbidden by the order.
"Upon investigation, that wasn't all."
"What else did he do?"
"He burned living humans. Or drowned them to death. He buried them alive too. He killed people in all sorts of ways and turned them into swords. It was experimentation. To confirm what effect the manner of death in life had on the spirit sword."
"Hmm..."
A horrific madman just to hear about.
It was no different from testing the rumor that burning a human to make a sword produces a sword that wields fire.
Drowning and live burial were the same.
It was something anyone might think of but never practice, yet the holy smith named Gid had tested them all.
Listening to the story, goosebumps slowly rose on Helena's forearm.
"I don't know the exact number, but it was no small figure. As if that wasn't enough, he even laid his hands on demonic beasts. His sins were beyond the level of repentance."
He should have died originally, but.
"His talent was highly valued."
"By whom?"
"I only heard it was some noble. Must be a quite high-ranking noble."
"...So they saved him."
"I'm afraid. But I'm also curious. Damned occupational disease."
Gregory shook his head and let out a deep sigh.
Helena recalled that Gid was originally Gregory's disciple and quietly waited for his words.
"Helena. Find Gid. And if possible..."
Before more sacrifices are made.
"End his delusion."
* * *
A dark night.
A night where black clouds half-covered the moon.
Kallias found a forge with a half-moon symbol drawn on it.
"Who goes!"
It was a patrolling soldier.
Kallias stated his identity and cleared up the misunderstanding.
"My apologies. Lately, there have been incidents of soldiers and knights going missing, you see. My lord, if it's not urgent business, please retire to your quarters at night."
"Why is that?"
"There's a rampant rumor that a ghost bewitches knights and carries them off."
"You believe such nonsense?"
"Haha, I don't believe it, but so many people keep going missing. Anyway, please be careful. Farewell!"
Missing persons incidents.
Kallias felt something unsettling about this incident that was clearly not his concern.
'What is it?'
It felt like he should remember something, but his mind was hazy as if shrouded in fog.
After pondering for a while, Kallias decided to focus on the matter at hand.
He quietly searched for the forge without being caught by the soldiers.
He had to go through this trouble because it was written that he shouldn't be seen by others.
Creeeak.
Upon opening the door of the shabby forge, inside was a large furnace.
Iron tools and various miscellaneous items needed for the process were arranged diversely.
Tongs and an anvil.
Swords lined up on a display rack.
And a young man sat there, stroking a hammer marked by handprints.
Trala de Valentine.
Relying on the small firelight with the moonlight behind him, he greeted Kallias who had come visiting.
"My dream is to become a blacksmith."
An abrupt opening.
"Is that the only reason you called me here."
Was this child really going to grow up to become a holy smith representing the order?
Kallias found it newly wondrous and stared intently at Trala.
He was so scrawny that one would wonder if he could even lift a hammer.
It was amazing that such a fellow would become an artisan in the future. As he watched quietly, Trala's face turned red.
"Lord Count, I'm sorry to say, but I don't like men."
"...What?"
Kallias's face contorted.
But Trala's nonsense didn't end there.
"Although, you do smell nice and your face is very handsome, but still, that instinctive thing..."
"Shut up. Say one more word and I'll cut off that precious tongue of yours first."
"...I apologize."
Trala bowed his head deeply.
"Start with the reason you called me."
"You just said you'd cut out my tongue if I said more..."
If not for his noble nature, curses would have come out first.
"Speak. Why did you call me."
"...As I said earlier, my dream is to become a blacksmith. But unfortunately, I must carry on the family line. When my father steps down, I will take the position of count."
Wouldn't that be a good thing?
Surely he didn't call him out on a secret night for just that.
"Get to the point. It's a waste of time to spend on your rambling."
"Yes, I apologize. To put it simply, please kill Count Valentine."
"..."
That was too straight to the point.
"The reason?"
"Because I want to become a holy smith. Oh, if possible, could I touch your sword just once?"
"..."
Could he be any worse at speaking?
The dark circles under his eyes were pitch black and his face was so gaunt that he looked in poor condition overall.
"You'd better organize your thoughts once before speaking. Think twice before you speak. It's a mess."
"I apologize. I'm just too excited right now... huuu."
After taking several deep breaths, Trala opened his mouth again with a calm face.
"I want to become a holy smith."
That hadn't improved much.
Kallias had no choice but to try finding the answer himself.
"Why?"
"I have no talent for swordsmanship. But I have great interest in swords. That is the reason, and secondly, because I have talent."
"An interesting fellow."
This was the first time he'd seen someone speak with such certainty about their own talent.
A blacksmith.
Of course, this went without saying, but blacksmiths certainly existed in this world as well.
No matter how much pilgrims prayed to God for the dead flesh and souls to be made into swords, they couldn't create everything.
To farm, you needed farming tools; to log, you needed axes.
Likewise, for construction, various tools were needed, and to make them, forges and blacksmiths were necessary.
"It's not something a noble's child would typically take interest in, but how do you know you have talent?"
"It's from the time when I began perceiving objects around me and knowing what was a person and what was a thing..."
"Make it short."
"I can feel souls. That is my inevitable talent for becoming a blacksmith."
'Does he have the talent of a medium?'
If so, the claim that he had talent as a blacksmith made sense.
To be precise—
"So you want to become a holy smith."
"That's right!"
But he still didn't understand.
"So what does that have to do with Count Valentine?"
"The story will be quite long."
"Tell me."
"Do you know a holy smith named Gid? Since you're also the captain of the Inquisition, you might know."
The Killer Holy Smith, Gid.
He knew him.
"Why is that madman coming from your mouth?"
"The holy smith Gid is my master."
"..."
"My master is in cahoots with my father, aiming for a hundred knights to be put alive into the furnace. Saying they'll make a sword to offer to God with that."
A hundred knights.
Putting them alive into the furnace to make swords.
Kallias swallowed a groan as soon as he heard Trala's story.
"Why do you react that way?"
"...It's nothing. So that was here."
"Pardon?"
A shadow fell over Kallias's face.
Rather than anger at hearing of an act that would outrage heaven and humanity, it was deep regret.
Seeing such emotion appear, Trala couldn't help but tilt his head.
But Kallias quickly gathered his emotions and raised his head.
"Where is it. The place where Gid is. I need to go there right now."
All he wore on his shoulders was a cloak.
Yet for some reason, Kallias couldn't easily shake off something pressing down on his entire body.