Sword Pilgrim-Novel

Nurturer Gregory was hammering away at his forge.

By his side, stood Callius, looking straight at him.

But not alone.

“Count Jervain, the Hero of Salvation himself. What’s a nobleman like you doing in this shabby place?”

Gregory took a side glance at him and continued his hammer blows as if nothing was wrong.

“This dwarf here is Dexter. He’s mine, so please let him use the forge.”

A few days after waking up from the coma, Callius had sent a summons to the North telling Dexter to come to the capital.

Because the dwarf had informed Callius that he still had a headache about the sword in his hands.

“And why should I do that?”

“Compared to the empire, the kingdom’s swords aren’t that great in quality. Dexter has a lot to offer in that regard, so why not let him stay here for a while?”

This was a decent enough reaction.

Nurturer Gregory.

He was the most famous nurturer in the Sword Church.

So he had to have his own pride. Callius couldn’t just foist Dexter on him by force.

Unless he changed Gregory's perception of himself.

“They say you only use water for quenching. Is there a reason for that?”

“Then what should I do? Should I cool the iron[1] by quenching it in blood, like a savage?”

Even if he was the greatest nurturer of the kingdom, his level was nothing to write home about when compared to the modern era.

“If you only use water for quenching, the iron would cool down rapidly. Won’t it bend, or break?”

“Isn’t that normal? It’s a nurturer’s job to deal with that the best he can!”

“Then why not use oil?”

"Oil?"

“Or, you can use brine. There are many methods. It might be a good idea to use water that’s been blessed, too.”

The kingdom’s carcasses were of middling quality when compared to the empire.

Some part of the reason lay in the same old lack of talents, but another part was the heavy emphasis on using traditional methods of quenching and smelting.

So a gap would naturally form.

In the first place, using only water quenching was a measure of how low the level of a civilization was.

‘Water isn’t bad, per se.'

But it didn’t have any strong points either.

The properties of corpse-iron could vary wildly.

Some would fit the water quenching method, and some never would.

Most ingots of spirit rank or higher had a mix tureof attributes, making them easy to deform when quenched with water.

So it was better to use oils that could hold a consistent temperature, or use some method to weaken the mold just in time.

Quenching itself was a process to make the iron stronger, how could it help if the metal deformed instead?

The skill level of the kingdom was too low.

So Callius had brought in Dexter.

“You’re asking for too much, you know.”

“Please help me.”

How to properly quench iron with water and how to fold it.

If even just these two aspects were fixed a bit, swords would be mass produced faster and the average quality would rise.

And –

Callius drew his dagger and made a shallow cut on his palm.

"What! Why suddenly…!”

The blood dripping from the wound was filled with divine power.

Callius let the drops fall into the bucket of water in front of him.

“The old ways aren’t all necessarily bad. How about trying a slightly different approach?”

Gregory looked like he was in a hurry to run off somewhere, as if he’d gotten a big shock, but he still calmed himself down and brought an iron ingot. He heated it under the bellows, and quickly hammered it into the shape of a sword.

Gulping, Gregory said –

“I’m not saying I believe you, Count – but it’s not that difficult to try. This is an ingot I went through a lot of trouble to find… I’ve always struggled with the quenching part.”

Because the ingot always warped when immersed in water. Gregory immersed the beaten piece of cast iron into the water filled Callius’ blood.

Flakes fell away as Gregory lifted the blade up.

"Oh, oh! The spine didn’t get twisted!!”

The blade looked pristine, as if it’d been somehow freed of its old stains. Gregory admired it for a while, then turned his head to look at Callius.

“You didn’t do this from the good of your heart, right? Is there anything you want from me?”

“Dexter?”

“Yeah.”

A sword wrapped in cloth appeared in Dexter's arms.

A broken sword.

The Strong Sword (Spirit Descent Sword) – Gwydd.

"This… Even broken, it’s kept its shape. It’s a pretty high-class one among spirit swords. Looks like a superior product[2].”

Superior products were just one level below special products[3].

Still, it meant that it was a fairly high-grade sword.

“I want you to fix this.”

“This…? You were called Dexter, right? I guess you couldn't fix it."

"Yes. Unfortunately.”

Dexter couldn't fix the spirit sword.

So Callius had called him here.

Even if he couldn’t fix the sword alone, things would be different with Gregory by his side.

‘Gregory…'

Although he was an old man, he still had untapped potential. Despite being stubborn and old-fashioned, he and Dexter could mutually help each other grow further.

So Callius had brought the two of them together.

To be honest, he didn't even need the Strong Sword anymore.

Because he now had the Light Dragon Sword.

It could almost be called the higher-level version of the Strong Sword.

And the Strong Sword was quite probably broken for good.

Still, Callius had a reason why he’d brought Dexter to meet Gregory.

"It's too hot! How can anybody live here?”

It was Beatrice.

There was a dwarf, and a nurturer.

Now if an alchemist completed the trifecta, might not the results be something to look forward to?

A training room inside the royal castle.

Three people were seated in the private space arranged for the queen.

One of them was naturally the queen, and another was Victor, the Guardian Sword who always accompanied her.

And the third –

“Your Majesty.”

"Yes."

"If you get too close to the enemy, you won't have room to swing your sword."

“But you aren’t an enemy, right, Count?”

“We’re having a match right now.”

The third was a count who was her swordsmanship instructor.

Callius.

“It’s because I stumbled.”

The queen was in Callius’ arms.

Thanks to that, he felt like he was about to die.

Because his trait, [Prodigal Son], kept making his hand try to snake around her waist, or his mouth to whisper sweet nothings in her ears.

He could only grit his teeth and perseveres.

Callius, had once been a maniac and a prodigal.

But now the maniac part was gone.

Shouldn't it be possible to resist the prodigal part of him as long as his will was strong enough?

Although he’d already brushed his hand lightly against her hips, she didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Ugh… Should we go again?”

“… Yes."

With her head bowed, the queen moved away and gave a light cough, and then pointed her sword at him once again.

“If you have any problems, please speak up. I’ll explain in as much detail as possible.”

“I don’t understand why there’re no basic sword forms.”

Basic forms.

They were usually a pretty important part of any sword art.

The sword art would build upon those basic forms and take shape.

For example, a swordsmanship called the Carpe Style was popular in the kingdom, created by the founding king and spread during the war.

Its basic forms were centered around stabbing and chopping.

But what about the Silver Flower Wave Sword? It had no such thing.

If one had to ask why, it was because Stella was its creator.

“The Silver Flower Wave Sword… starts at too high a level.”

"Eh? But didn’t you say, Count? That the Silver Flower Wave Sword is made for the weak?”

That was indeed true.

The Silver Flower Wave Sword was an art made by the weak, for the weak.

That was why Callius thought it wasn’t suitable for those who were already strong.

But –

“Don’t forget, the ‘weakling’ who created this swordsmanship was Stella.”

Stella had had such a thought one day.

That she was weak. So, she’d created such an incredible swordsmanship.

A sword without form.

That was the root of the Silver Flower Wave Sword.

It was an art based on irregular strikes and anomalous techniques that had to be used depending on the situation.

In summary, it was a one-size-fits-all sword art that needed a knight's intuition and strength as a base.

‘In the first place, a sword art should be based on how to form and shape your sword energy.'

But Stella’s art was different at a fundamental level.

It was a high-grade martial art where even the first martial skill needed the user to freely manipulate sword energy.

Because by the time she’d made this art, Stella had no trouble manipulating sword energy any way she wished.

And thus such a ridiculous art had been born.

The Silver Flower Wave Sword originated from the idea that in order for the weak to defeat the strong, they must crush the opponent’s power and then use it themselves to counterattack.

The bizarre sword art that made such an impossible possible was the Silver Flower Wave Sword.

Therefore, it wasn’t easy to teach.

The art had been lost to time, precisely because of that.

“Sword Saint Stella. The sword art she created, the Silver Flower Wave Sword, is of a higher level than any other swordsmanship on the continent. I too had to struggle for years to learn it.”

First of all, one needed to understand the concept of Raging Flower Wave, and in order to practice it, they needed to find their own realizations and raise their level.

Yet, there was no basic form included in the art that would allow one to naturally progress to that checkpoint.

Although the sword art was made for the weak, only geniuses were qualified to learn it.

Created by a genius who lamented her own weakness, the swordsmanship had been born as a mass of contradictions.

“Rumours? What rumours?”

“Ah, I heard that you were actually always a genius swordsman, but you deliberately tried to hide the fact because you were learning the Silver Flower Wave Sword.”

Callius had no way to appease the queen's deeply curious eyes.

As he remained silent, Queen Clara quickly changed the subject.

Now she looked thoughtful.

“Is that why can’t I learn this swordsmanship? I… I’m not a genius like Sir Esther.”

Esther, Carpe’s greatest genius.

Her intelligence was definitely outstanding.

Now her development was nearly complete.

‘Since she’s gotten Sullivian… ‘

It was safe to say that Carpe’s destruction had been delayed by several years.

According to the original storyline, she was the one to lead Carpe while it was in ruins and struggling to maintain its very existence.

However, even somebody so great couldn’t bring Carpe back to life.

The royal lineage was the key.

Carpe, after losing the royal bloodline that was the lynchpin of Valtherus' grace, would be broken at its very core, and would have no choice but to walk the path of ruin.

‘White hair and pure white eyes.'

White hair and white eyes were a blessing from God.

And they contained His grace.

Jervain's eyes. Gradas’ nose.

Ruydren’s ears. Orvid’s mouth.

And for the royal family, Bright –

‘The brain.'

It could be thought of as the head that presided over the senses – the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.

People from the royal bloodline were brilliant. His Highness Chloe, for example, even though he’d made the mistake of taking the Light Dragon Sword, had originally been a very smart person.

So it was definitely possible for the queen to succeed.

“Your Majesty, you’re better suited for this than anyone else in Carpe.”

She just didn't realize her own strength yet.

As long as Clara could realize her true strength, Carpe would have a chance of survival.

‘But it needs time.'

Callius himself, the queen, and all the other in Carpe with great potential –

Except for those few who’d already been perfected, most were waiting to be molded.

So Carpe needed more time.

“Thank you for believing in me, but I… Compared to my predecessors, I’m not any good.”

"Your Majesty."

"Yes?"

Long, braided, white hair fluttered at Callius’ call.

There was anxiety in the pure white pupils.

And impatience.

The girl who’d ascended to the throne at a young age, thrust into the highest position in the nation, had grown older since then, but she was still young.

Even after her years spent ruling, she was still a young woman.

She was angrier than anyone else at the empire’s brazen invasion, but at the same time she was also more anxious than anyone else.

Because she knew best her own shortcomings.

Sitting upon that lonely throne –

Who could count how many fears had taken root in her heart?

Almost unconsciously, Callius cusped her warm cheeks.

"Ah…”

A queen who’d just become an adult –

Her white pupils trembled at the sudden touch.

But Callius spoke to her with a firm determination.

“Don’t put yourself down.”

I will never let you die.

If she died, Carpe would collapse.

“Because of my royal blood…?”

"No. Blood has nothing to do with it.”

"Then…?”

Callius looked at her silently. The one who’d planned her death in such detail had been none other than herself.

“There is no place for my sword in a world without you.”

“…!!”

“… Do you have a fever?”

Her face had suddenly turned red.

“Oh, no! No. Well, um, let’s finish it here today!”

“There’s still time.”

"M-my body! Suddenly started feeling bad. Victor!”

“Did you call…”

Victor looked at the queen and Callius alternately and smiled quietly.

“What’s next on my schedule?”

“Meeting the ministers…”

“Cancel it.”

"Alright."

The queen turned her back to Callius, her ears burning red.

Callius backed away with a bewildered face at the clear invitation to leave.

“Huff, huff. Honestly…”

That man was incorrigible. The queen, biting her lip, said so, and took a moment to cool the heat on her flushed face that she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Editor's Notes:

[1] 주철 (lit. cast iron). Considering that cast iron is a mixture or iron and carbon, and the metal they’re talking about here is transformed from carbon-based organic corpses, it’s darkly apt. Using iron, cast iron or corpse-iron as appropriate in translation.