Sword Devouring Swordmaster

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 163 「Thunder」 (3)

Inside the Krevelin Great Forest was peace—so much peace that I doubted it was really one of the continent’s forbidden regions. It wasn’t savage or ominous. It was beautiful. The forest, where nature’s scenery intertwined like a living painting, shone with a brilliance wholly different from the Sky Mountains.

It looked exactly like the landscape I had seen in the memories of 「Flight」. When the old adventurer and his son had come here to bury Thunder, the forest had looked just like this.

There had been no obstruction from the World Tree, which was said to reject all intruders.

The father and son had entered the forest like travelers on a picnic—and left without harm. Neither had known magic, nor had they been beings loved by spirits. The son, Icarus, was a man who had spent his life on inventions; his father, a retired ranger from the Empire with little education.

What, then, had protected them?

The more I thought, the more convinced I became that my hypothesis was correct.

“Hmm.”

As I wandered through the forest, I suddenly felt a dissonance—something that hadn’t existed in 「Flight」’s memory. My instincts flared, questioning where that sense of wrongness came from. And soon, my instincts answered for me.

“It’s… unusually quiet.”

Indeed, it was unnaturally silent. Not simply calm—dead silent. Not a chirp, not a rustle, not even the hum of insects. It was eerie enough to raise goosebumps.

“That’s only natural.”

“Natural?”

At my question, Elizabeth replied,

“The situation in the Great Forest hasn’t been good lately. After High Elf Nadin’s assault on the Iron Kingdom, the forest sang its wrath. The elves and beastkin survived, but the ecosystem was severely damaged in the process. Mindless beasts and lesser spirits returned to the earth. The creatures who served as the forest’s sentinels disappeared—so of course it’s quiet.”

“Ah.”

“On top of that, while you were stuck in the Sky Mountains, there were multiple assaults on the Krevelin Great Forest—targeted at the elves and their territory.”

“Assaults?”

Assaults? I had heard nothing of this.

“Just as Ian Cherville took advantage of a brief opening to seize the Free City, other nations used the brief moment after the forest’s wrath to invade. The barriers of the Great Forest have never been this loose.”

“……”

“And there were plenty of pretexts. A racial excuse: that the elves had violated human domains. A political excuse: that the elves had overstepped their bounds with the Iron Kingdom’s ally nations. Of course, they were just excuses—but even excuses matter. Especially when dealing with elves, who rarely offer any justification for anything.”

“Because they’re such a closed-off race?”

“Exactly. Most elves spend their whole lives inside the forest. You can’t just attack their lands without cause. Unless you can strike as fast as the Iron Kingdom did when it seized the Free City, it’s impossible.”

“……”

“They’re cautious to the extreme, avoiding conflict and ambition. They’ve never given others a reason to hate them. In all history, it’s rare to find a case where elves provided any pretext for war. And even if someone did find one, the Great Forest—protected by the World Tree—is an impenetrable fortress. Everyone prefers to stay away.”

She was right. Elizabeth continued,

“So everyone saw this moment as a chance. The Wrath of the World Tree is terrifyingly strong, but when that wrath ends, its barriers loosen—as if the tightly shut gates of a fortress had suddenly opened wide. And this time, the elves even gave the world a justification. Nadin’s attack on Cherville might have been righteous vengeance to the elves, but to other races, it was an act of crossing the line.”

“Crossing the line…”

“The death of a young life is always tragic. But tell me—would an orc, a human, or a beastkin raid another nation’s capital because one child died? No. It’s excessive. To outsiders, it looked like the elves were proclaiming that one of their kind was worth more than hundreds of others.”

“……”

“They provoked the world. And among those provoked were ones too greedy to resist. The elves’ land—if it could be conquered—was worth immeasurable riches. The Great Forest was a land where one could become a mage just by breathing, where planting seeds meant guaranteed harvests. The World Tree, that mysterious tree, was said to hold miracles: boil its branches and you’ll gain immortality like the elves; eat its fruit and you’ll become a great mage. And, if you captured elves alive and sold them as slaves… imagine the profit. Elves were seen as divine, noble beings under the World Tree—desired by every powerful person alive. Many slave traders even cut the ears off beautiful captives, powdered their skin, and sold them as ‘elf-style’ products.”

Elizabeth spoke of humanity’s desires without restraint. The ugliness of the continent laid bare before me was revolting. I finally understood why elves so deeply distrusted outsiders—why they gathered only among themselves. They had everything humans coveted: beauty, immortality, and a perfect land.

“Several city-states invaded. There were no declarations of war—Krevelin Great Forest wasn’t recognized as a nation, so there was no need for one. Even factions from the Sky Empire tried to infiltrate on their own—kidnapping young elves, breaking off branches from the World Tree.”

“What a mess.”

“That’s why the outskirts are so silent now. Those who lived here probably fled to the deepest part of the forest, under the World Tree’s protection.”

Now I understand. But a new concern arose.

“Then wouldn’t they be on edge after so many attacks? If we’re discovered sneaking in like this, won’t it be… bad?”

“It would be bad. But as long as we’re not discovered, we’re fine.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Ha! Of course I am. How many times must I repeat myself? I’m one of the greatest magicians in the Sky Empire. No one can see through my disguise. Not even High Elf Nadin could scan every inch of this enormous forest.”

Elizabeth puffed herself up proudly.

“My magic is flawless. That’s why I came along. The descendant of Steel, who carries the memories of a legendary adventurer, and me, the perfect mage—what combination could be better? Normally, I would never bother to come in person, but that’s how important 「Thunder」 is to us.”

Following behind me, she said with confidence,

“There’s no need to worry about being discovered. My spell is absolute. No magic can unravel it.”

“Right… sure.”

“So, how much farther? The Storm River should be near the outskirts.”

“We’re almost there.”

As we talked, we arrived.

The Storm River was located in the northern outskirts of the Great Forest. The old adventurer from 「Flight」 had not been the type to hide things in overly elaborate places. He had simply admired the forest’s beauty with his son, discovered a mysterious river, and decided to hide the treasure there as a memento. Since it was near the entrance, Elizabeth’s method had been sound—concealment magic, quick in-and-out. It wouldn’t take more than three hours.

“Here.”

I swept away the thick brush. Behind it stretched a wide river. Its crystal-clear water flowed vigorously—but the river didn’t flow on the ground.

It flowed through the air.

Streams of water ran through invisible paths, twisting and branching in all directions—some plunging downward, others surging up toward the sky. It wasn’t part of nature; it was art. Magic woven into reality.

Beyond the branching streams, a waterfall poured upward into the heavens. Rocks floated like clouds, grasses drifted like dandelion fluff in the air. A landscape beyond this world—unique to the Krevelin Great Forest, unlike even the Sky Mountains.

We had arrived at the Storm River.

***

“Abundant, free-flowing Mana, and spirits inhabiting every natural form—yes, this scenery was shaped by them. That old explorer who said, ‘It’s like peeking into the Spirit Realm,’ was exactly right. A magnificent magical landscape indeed. But to call it a divine creation or an unfathomable mystery of the continent—nonsense. It’s simply a magical phenomenon.”

While I was still in awe of the Storm River’s beauty, Elizabeth shattered the mood with her rational commentary. She went on to mutter that the spirits’ structure was sloppy, that it would’ve been more beautiful if the Sky Father himself had shaped it—words I didn’t care to hear.

“So, where’s 「Thunder」? Hurry up and get it.”

“…Yes, yes.”

How many centuries had she lived to have her emotions so worn down? Her face and voice looked young, but inside she was surely an old grandmother—or a grandmother’s grandmother—or maybe a grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmoth—

“You’re not thinking of something rude, are you? You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“N-no.”

Sharp as ever. I dropped the thought and reached into the flowing water. 「Thunder」 had been hidden not by the adventurer father, but by his son, Icarus. He had applied the cipher of Labyrinthos to conceal it among the streams, and buried it in the arms of a spirit itself.

“But tell me…”

It was a treasure only that father and son could have found. At this moment, I became them—and found it. As soon as my fingers brushed against something solid, I grabbed it and slowly pulled.

“…Didn’t you say earlier that no magic could break your disguise? That even if the elves were on edge, they’d never detect us?”

“I did.”

Something about it bothered me.

Elizabeth was a brilliant magician—but also an arrogant one. She had lived ages as one of the strongest magic users, surrounded only by Witches in their Magic City of the Sky Empire. Her entire world was magic—so of course, to her, everything was defined by it. Once something becomes an “obvious truth,” even immortals struggle to see beyond it.

“So then,” I asked carefully,

“If it isn’t through magic—could we still be detected?”

Elizabeth tilted her head.

“To scan this vast forest and identify hostile presences, nothing rivals magic in efficiency or precision. There’s no reason they’d use any other method.”

“But if they did—if they used something else—could we be discovered?”

Persistent questioning. Finally, Elizabeth replied,

“The elves couldn’t find us. Not even through the World Tree. Spirits couldn’t either. After all, spirit arts and magic are similar in nature. But—”

“But?”

“There’s one exception.”

Elizabeth hummed softly.

“What is it?”

“Smell.”

“…Smell?”

“No matter how high the magic, no matter how divine the concealment, no spell can deceive their noses.”

“……”

“The beastkin’s sense of blood.”

At that moment, my hand closed around the Witches’ treasure.

“Of course, it’s not worth worrying about. The beastkin born in the Great Forest have mostly lost their wild instincts; their sense for blood’s path has atrophied after living alongside elves. And even the skilled ones can only sense such things in combat or imminent danger. None here could possibly detect us.”

“……”

“Well—there’s one special case, but that’s not worth mentioning.”

That word—special case—stuck in my ears.

“What special case? Could it appear here? We should be prepared.”

“Impossible. Less likely than being struck by lightning. I didn’t even bother considering it. I only mentioned it as a hypothetical—since you asked if there’s absolutely no way we could be found. But really, you can’t live worrying about such improbabilities.”

“I do. I’m the type who worries about lightning strikes on rainy days.”

“That’s… a mental illness.”

“I hear that a lot. So tell me.”

I tugged the treasure free as she spoke.

“Among the beastkin, there are rare individuals where the beast’s traits are dominant rather than balanced. They’re born with extraordinary power—and an extremely keen sense of smell.”

“You mean…”

“They can sense danger even outside battle. Through training, they hone this into a weapon—some can even perceive ‘change’ itself as danger, predicting every variable before it happens. It’s said that the strongest of them can designate an enormous territory as their domain and identify every intruder within it.”

“……”

“But don’t worry. Those ones belong to Sirion—a division of the Arman Union—not here. They’re warriors bred purely for war. There’s no reason they’d be in this forest.”

She made sense. But my misfortune never cared for reason.

“You’re right.”

Splash!

I yanked my hand out of the water. Droplets scattered everywhere, and in my grip gleamed 「Thunder」—a weathered, dried wooden staff. Not at all worthy of the grand name “Witches’ treasure.”

“But I’m uneasy, so let’s get out of here. Unless you want to test just how cursed my luck is.”

Elizabeth, who had been gazing at 「Thunder」 in awe, stiffened.

“You’re right. We should leave. Quickly.”

“……”

Hmm. It worked, but—

‘She didn’t even hesitate.’

That stung my pride a bit.

***

“Descendant of Steel.”

As soon as we found 「Thunder」, we started moving—fast. No breaks, no rest.

“You’re the best.”

And then—

“Your misfortune surpasses the odds of being struck by lightning. A miracle of bad luck! Maybe that’s what your family’s legend means—the one that says the blood of Steel makes the impossible possible. Perhaps it refers to your ability to get struck by every hardship imaginable.”

My unease had, of course, become reality.

“Karavan.”

We were surrounded.

Completely.

Countless elves aimed their drawn bows at us, their killing intent sharp enough to cut skin. Among their ranks stood a familiar face—the only old elf among the young, beautiful ones. High Elf Nadin, his expression dry, his eyes fixed on me.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

Beside Nadin stood a man with the features of a wolf—sleek hair, pointed ears poking through, and a tail bristling with fur. A beastkin with a sharp, predatory aura. On his chest gleamed a sigil—the mark of the Arman Union.

“To have entered so boldly… you must be stronger than before.”

The air itself trembled under refined killing intent. A suffocating pressure pressed down on my body. A hopeless situation.

But fortunately—

‘I’m glad I thought ahead.’

My habit of constant suspicion had once again saved me.

“Elizabeth. Think of a way out.”

“We can’t. Not unless someone buys us time—”

“I’ll buy it.”

“…You’re joking, right? There are dozens of elves, the beastkin of Sirion, and High Elf Nadin himself—and you’ll buy us time alone?”

“I’m not joking.”

It would be difficult. But—

“I can manage.”

If my guess was right, it was possible.