Chapter 229
Translator: AkazaTL
Pr/Ed: Sol IX
***
Chapter 229. Matchstick (3)
“Did all the Great Bloodlines die—every one of them?”
The Azure Heavens of the Sky Mountains.
Beyond the blue sky, within the nest where the mighty ones curled.
“Charlotte… Those noble ones lost their lives because they were coaxed by that young Warden.”
“Not only them. The rulers of the sky who should have inherited the future, Dragons who should have flown even higher—perished before they ever bloomed.”
In the Land of Dragons, an ominous current swept through.
“The last Karavan. The final remnant of Steel Blood is repeating the past.”
“……The young Dragons meddled with something they should never have touched.”
Following Dragon Charlotte, the Dragons swept up in youthful fervor had left for the outside world. But many Dragons still remained in the Land of Dragons—those too young to leave, and those too old, bound by the distant past. Too young or too ancient; with the middle generations gone, only the extremes remained. Complaints echoed across the land.
“If we leave things as they are, will the past repeat itself?”
“That we do not know. In the past, we were foolish—and committed unforgivable sins against the Steel Bloodline. But the young Dragons have not yet crossed that line. They still have a chance.”
“If so……”
“To avoid repeating the distant past, we must take action.”
The old Dragons murmured, lying weakly against the ground. Though their voices sounded weary, no living being in the outside world would dare call them “old.” Dragons were beings beyond the flow of time. Ancient Dragons were not “aged”—they were simply old as the world itself. And for every Dragon, time was not something to fear, but nourishment for growth.
At this moment, the strongest Dragons on the continent were turning their attention toward the outside world.
“It seems we should leave for a short visit. A very short one.”
Beings capable of erasing kingdoms and burning empires to ash with a single flap of their wings. Beings who opened the “Age of Lizards” in forgotten history. True Dragons born in the Mythic Age, their power immeasurable. They muttered in weary tones—And watching their discussion, among the young Dragons, one small Dragon—one who had lost a piece of his heart—trembled nervously.
The Dragon Aion, the little Dragon contracted to Arhan Karavan, thought:
‘What is he doing—what in the world is that human doing!?’
Please. I want to live a long life.
***
All who lived in the Dwarf Kingdom were Dwarves.
The Dwarves soon began restoring their shattered kingdom using their craftsman’s skill.
The collapsed capital regained its form, and they held funerals according to the Goddess they served.
A grand flame burned the bodies of the fallen Dwarves, sending their souls back to the Goddess. Beneath the bright sunlight, General Dwight and the Dwarf King who had barely survived stood before me.
“Descendant of Steel, you have saved the Dwarves.”
“No. I also received a lot.”
“You received nothing from us. You merely reclaimed what your ancestor left behind. And so—we have not repaid a single favor you granted us.”
The Dwarf King clasped my hand tightly. His expression looked as if he might burst into tears.
“In the Dwarf Kingdom, a statue of Karavan will be erected. A statue we could not raise for ages after history forgot it. Your statue—and a new statue modeled after the First Steel placed at the entrance of the Golden Vault. It will be larger than any statue in our kingdom.”
“…….”
“Descendant of Steel, will you continue to protect our kingdom?”
The Dwarf King, Jerome Stone, tightened his grip. He looked desperate. Of course—after seeing the power of Dragons, and then seeing mine, any king would want to keep me here. I understood his desperation. But I could not remain.
“Your Majesty, that is not possible.”
Dwight seemed to know this as well.
“The Descendant of Steel has tasks he must complete.”
“Tasks?”
“The Descendant of Steel will walk the Path of Transcendence.”
Dwight knew my true goal.
Swordmaster Carlos.
“And the reconstruction and protection of our kingdom must be done by the Dwarves themselves. My heart wishes to accompany the Descendant of Steel as high as the steel chimneys, but more than anyone, I know that the Steel Bloodline cannot be bound anywhere.”
“…….”
“Descendant of Steel, Arhan Karavan. Walk the path you must walk.”
Dwight’s gaze was resolute. Hearing him, Dwarf King Jerome Stone smiled—regretful, but relieved. Then he gently held my hand again.
“Descendant of Steel.”
“Yes.”
“You are the savior of the Dwarf Kingdom.”
Jerome Stone’s eyes gleamed.
“The Dwarf Kingdom will soon return to normal. And since you even repelled Dragons, we must prepare for the chaos to come. Our steel walls will become stronger, our flames and steel harder. All so we survive.”
“…….”
“And the lowest kingdom will always stand with you.”
Dwight nodded as well.
“In this chaotic age, among the Seven Races created by the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses— we, the lowest race of the continent, all Dwarves shall stand with Steel. Forever.”
Support. A king’s unwavering support.
I accepted his earnest gaze. Anyone could see his sincerity. But,
“……Will you swear it?”
I needed certainty.
“Not in the names of gods. Swear in the name of the Land of Swords.”
***
「Relentless brat.」
The Dwarf Kingdom was restored swiftly. Having secured a firm oath, I could not remain any longer. I healed my wounds and received several useful items crafted for me. Ten days passed. Proper preparation always require time.
The equipment I received were mostly consumables. After forging my Immortal Armor, I could use only Gaia’s Sword. And because I had taken Leon Karavan’s blade from the 「Golden Vault」, I had been unable to take anything else.
The Dwarves gave me “treasures.” Items similar to those Zeppelin Gold once held—objects imbued with mysterious power. I received three treasures in total: a treasure allowing predetermined teleportation anywhere on the continent, a shield that resisted magic, and a pocket of subspace capable of storing items beforehand.
I did not receive any artifact like the second Great Warrior of the Order of the Cross carried, which resisted death. Such relics were near-sacred items held by the Order, after all. Extreme relics of that caliber were usually stored by either the 「Machine Empire」, the 「Black Archipelago」, or the Arman Union.
I had no complaints. These held plenty of value.
“Descendant of Steel.”
When I finished preparing to depart, Dwarf King Jerome Stone spoke once more.
“I do not know where you will go in this chaotic world. But the road will not be easy.”
“I know.”
“Indeed. But it may be even harder than you expect.”
Harder than I expect? He knew something?
“Descendant of Steel. Your family, the Karavan—renowned across every continent—vanished from history as if burned away. Leaving not a single trace.”
“……”
“The erasure of history. Those who ordered that erasure were beings with far deeper malice than you imagine. I do not know all the details, but I know every king across all nations once received the same command: erase all related to Karavan, remove every trace of steel, eliminate those who know steel…….”
Erase. Jerome Stone used that word.
“Even weakened, the Karavan were still famed. Some still supported steel, still remembered Karavan’s glory. They resisted the erasure.”
“……”
“And the same person visited every one of those who resisted.”
“The same person……?”
“The Eraser.”
The Eraser.
“He appeared in every nation and city, repeating the same words as he carved out everything related to Karavan. My ancestor recorded his words.”
“……”
“He said: ‘This land must be erased. This city must be erased.’”
The words from Jerome Stone’s mouth were words I knew too well.
‘This domain must be erased.’
Swordmaster Carlos.
The words he spoke as he took everything from me.
“You must be cautious, Descendant of Steel. That man is strong enough to destroy a nation alone, and has backing so vast that no one can restrain him.”
“……”
“Perhaps it was inevitable.”
I understood what he meant. Steel had many enemies.
The first steel had left behind countless foes.
“My ancestor said ‘the Eraser’ had another name.”
“……”
“He was called the Sword of Heaven.”
The Sword of Heaven. Another name I already knew belonged to Carlos. But.
“And ‘the Sword of Heaven’ has, since ancient times, referred to one being. A title known only to a very few—the chosen of the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses, or the leaders of nations and races.”
“……You know of the Sword of Heaven?”
“Only a fragment of his identity.”
For the first time— a clue appeared.
With eyes wide open, I asked:
“……May I hear it?”
And.
“In the distant past, the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses feared the existence of the Karavan. The great ones believed they too needed a mighty blade. So they selected the most brilliant talent of each era and granted them every blessing needed to become Swordmasters. And like the Descendant of Khan, they made them both Swordmasters and the Great Warriors of the gods. Great Warriors of all sixteen gods.”
“……”
“But even then, the ancient Sword of Heaven could not defeat the Karavan. The gods claimed the reason was racial limitation.”
“……”
“So they concluded that to destroy the Steel Bloodline, the greatest blessings and greatest power must be given to the strongest race.”
The strongest race. There was only one candidate.
“The Sword of Heaven is the Ruler of the Sky.”
Jerome Stone spoke.
“A Dragon.”
The Sword of Heaven was a Dragon. Which meant.
“The Sword of Heaven is the Great Warrior of all gods, the most powerful Swordmaster, and a Dragon born of the mightiest bloodline among the Seven Races. This is the identity of the strongest Judge created by the Seven Lords and Nine Goddesses to eradicate ‘Steel’ from the world.”
Swordmaster Carlos was a Dragon.
“There is far more hidden about the Sword of Heaven. Descendant of Steel, I do not intend to hinder your path. But you must understand—your enemy is far stronger and far more unreasonable than you know.”
“……”
“The Sword of Heaven is the embodiment of every unfairness in this world.”
That was Jerome Stone’s final warning.
After hearing it— I left the Dwarf Kingdom.
Toward a wider world.
***
“You’ve arrived, Carlos.”
The Northern Continent.
The end of the world.
The land where primordial violence—monsters—were imprisoned.
Before the Dark Citadel, frozen by eternal winter, Ian Cherville muttered indifferently. Atop the citadel, Demons draped in black garments stood—those who shared the Watcher’s duty alongside House White, one of the Five Great Houses.
As Ian Cherville observed them, the sky shook.
Carlos watched the trembling heavens and slowly raised his sword.
“Who has come?”
“Remnants of the old age.”
The moment Carlos raised his blade, the sky split in half. From the rift, something fell to the ground. It was a Dragon. A massive Dragon. It slammed into the earth, and with one more swing of Carlos’s sword, its head bowed low—subdued by the authority of the strongest Swordmaster.
“Ka—rlo—s Sky.”
“……”
“Bearer—of a—sacred duty…… half-dragon…”
Carlos looked down at the Dragon with cold, dead eyes.
Eyes like steel—devoid of emotion.
“Why did you fall so far?”
“……”
“You have a duty. Fulfill your sacred duty. And save your kin who now die in agony. That—is why—you were born. That is……”
Listening, Carlos slowly closed his eyes.
The Dragon continued:
“Please—Sword of Heaven……”
Carlos did not let him finish.
“I discarded that name long ago.”
“Sword—”
“A very long time ago.”
The moment he spoke, countless lines appeared across the Dragon’s body. Following those lines, its form fragmented. The Dragon scattered like dust. Without giving it a glance, Carlos simply walked forward.
Ian Cherville briefly chuckled at the sight of his executioner, then spoke:
“Go.”
The Executioner obeyed.
Toward the Dark Citadel— the fortress of the Demons that had upheld order throughout long history— one Swordmaster walked.
When Carlos reached the gate, the Nobles of the Night barred his path.
“Who goes there?”
“State your identi—”
Their lofty voices fell silent as Carlos calmly drew his sword. And instead of the usual formalities, he offered the same answer he always had.
“This citadel must be erased.”
“…….”
“Is there anyone here under the age of eighteen?”
A polite declaration— one that signaled the end of everything.