Sword Devouring Swordmaster

Translator: AkazaTL

Pr/Ed: Sol IX

***

Chapter 196 – Hero (3)

Zeppelin Gold considered this situation a jackpot.

The original plan had been simple: once Arhan accomplished something impressive, he’d wrap it in a flashy story, inflate it a bit, and spread it as a rumor. Then, once Arhan was celebrated as a hero, external powers would flock to the Southern Continent for their proxy wars, hiring Arhan as a mercenary. That would bring him both fame and generous compensation—and Zeppelin Gold would use the name “Arhan” as his brand to rake in massive profits.

But Arhan hadn’t just done something impressive.

He had achieved something truly heroic. There was no need for embellishment. There was no need to put effort into spreading rumors; the entire Southern Continent was already chanting Arhan’s name. What’s more, Arhan, after using the Golden Star, had not only found his sword but even gained the chance to bring an entire religious order into his territory.

He was no different from a goose that laid golden eggs.

Zeppelin had heavily invested in Arhan’s domain as well, so any development in Arhan’s land translated directly into profit for Zeppelin Gold.

At this rate, the proxy war might not even happen at all.

Arhan had shattered the balance of the Southern Continent. And he had done it so quickly that external powers didn’t even have time to intervene.

The Order of the Cross collapsed, the Holy Empire managed to reclaim and protect the Southern Continent, and now it looked like the land was returning to its former sanctity. In that case, Arhan would become a hero in his own right—no, considering the unique nature of this land, it wouldn’t even be strange for a new religion to arise centered around faith in Arhan.

Even the Conquest Army of the “Great Land” couldn’t stand against my lord. Their core forces probably haven’t crossed over yet, so this might be the perfect time to sweep them away entirely. We might not even need to move cautiously—we could take control in one swift strike...

If his mercenary corps, led by Arhan, took the lead, they could restore order to the Southern Continent. That would be a monumental achievement. In this deeply religious land, people would become favorable the moment they heard the name of Arhan—their savior. They might even end up with exclusive trade rights across this vast continent. In that case, Zeppelin Gold might actually surpass his siblings and seize a high position within the Red Bank.

Zeppelin Gold was intoxicated with sweet dreams. And all of this was possible because Arhan didn’t need to be made into a hero. He was already a true hero. Zeppelin looked around at the people of Antoine, gathered in the ruins. The children clung to each other, glancing around anxiously, while the adults, trying to comfort them, looked up at Zeppelin.

People who should’ve vanished into history. People who would’ve crumbled to dust without leaving a single word behind. All of them had survived because of Arhan.

Yes. Arhan Karavan was a true hero.

I’ve found my golden ticket.

Zeppelin Gold felt proud—and happy. He even thought this massive business venture might end more easily than he’d imagined. Of course, it wouldn’t. Zeppelin Gold had no idea just how vast the greed of external forces could be, or how desperately the “Great Land,” long trapped within the Eastern Continent, hungered for this opportunity. Truly, he had no idea at all...

***

“Huff. Urgh.”

Aaron had fallen right into the trap. Even with the immense power granted by his descent, the blade infused with Polished Light had severed his left arm and right leg. From the ground above, I looked down into the pit where Aaron had fallen. He gasped, writhing deep beneath the earth.

As had happened with Ismael, the blade formed with the Polished Light couldn’t finish off a Great Warrior, even one empowered by descent in a single strike. But it could still deal a fatal blow.

Just a rat caught in a trap.

A fatally wounded Great Warrior— In that state, he wouldn’t even be able to crawl back to the surface. All I had to do was use the Third Steel once more and land a finishing blow on that squirming wreck. This fight would be over. There was no reason whatsoever for me to go down there and fight alongside him. Pathetic as he looked, my sword couldn’t even reach him from here.

“Huuu—HAAAAAHHH!”

A furious, anguished scream rang up from the pit. You could call it cowardly, sure. But what did that matter?

Just as he had come wrapped in expensive gear and accompanied by comrades, cowardice meant nothing in war. No one sympathizes. Only the outcome matters. I had simply chosen the tactic that made winning easiest against a “Great Warrior.”

“You son of a—!”

The War Mages had already activated their teleportation spells and fled. They had judged the battle was lost. Only the Crusaders remained. Holy Knights who charged into death to save their Great Warrior. Fools, ensnared by misguided faith. Watching them tremble and die didn’t bring any satisfaction. I wiped my blade clean and looked down at Aaron. And then.

“What the...”

He was gone. Aaron wasn’t there.

When I looked into the pit, the earth below had been disturbed and dug out. The Great Warrior, even after invoking descent, had chosen to flee.

All that big talk about not running from a sinner...

The man was utterly insane in so many ways. I leapt into the pit and quickly invoked Gaia’s Authority. The moment I did, I saw Aaron tunneling through the ground.

His body glowed with magical light. It wasn’t a miracle—it was the power of magical artifacts.

To strip the magic from him, I conjured a Flame of Doubt, but it didn’t work. The manifestation of the spells was faster than my dispel.

“……”

The next moment, Aaron vanished.

Tch.

I’d won, but… It didn’t feel like a satisfying victory.

And then.

“Don’t worry.”

Someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I’ll finish it.”

An old Monk stood there.

***

“H-huff, huuh... haah.”

Aaron crawled in disgrace. He’d activated his artifact in the nick of time, saving his life. Right now, a furious voice filled with wrath thundered in his head.

「Why did you run? WHY—!」

“I-if… if I had kept fighting, I would’ve… died.”

「Yes. You would’ve returned to my side. But you could’ve at least taken one of his arms. One arm of a Descendant of Steel—!」

“H-how can you… throw away my life so easily…”

「That was your role, Aaron.」

The Son of Sin and Punishment.

The god he worshipped spoke with ruthless indifference.

「A Great Warrior can always be appointed again, even if one dies. If you had fought to the end, I would’ve ignited your soul and inflicted an irreparable wound on him. Then I would’ve sent another Great Warrior to repeat the process. Do you understand? I intended to destroy and destroy again until his soul was utterly broken. Until he died.」

“H-how… how can you…”

「It’s for the sake of true justice.」

The words spoken by the Great Lord, the god of Sin and Punishment, felt unbearably alien to Aaron at this moment. Deep in his heart, a thought rose: he finally understood why the greatly respected Great Warrior Ismael had betrayed them. If a tool was simply used and discarded, how could anyone remain loyal to Him until the end? As those blasphemous thoughts circled in his mind, Aaron began to cry.

「I thought you would entrust everything to me, yet in the end you surrendered to your fear.」

As Aaron sobbed, the Great Lord read the depths of his heart. It felt as if he had been laid bare—completely stripped. Aaron continued to weep, crushed by unspeakable shame.

「Take your own life. Then I will not cast you aside.」

“L-lord of Sin and Punishment…”

「Hurry and die. I shall appoint a new Great Warrior. If you die now, I will receive you into my embrace. But if you harbor blasphemous thoughts until the end, I will strip you of your right. Then, after death, you shall wander the abyss forever. Never able to return to the arms of any god.」

That was a fate far more terrifying than death.

But Aaron could choose neither. Even knowing another world awaited beyond death, he was too terrified of dying. In the end, all Aaron could do was sob. Before the voice of a merciless god, Aaron felt like a small child again. And then.

「…Enough. The one who will end your life has arrived, Aaron, you fearful thing.」

A certain old man appeared before the crawling Aaron.

「If only you possessed even half of that one’s resolve, how satisfied I would be.」

“……”

「I envy Moses… dearly so.」

The old man was blind. Behind the elder with empty eyes, the desert night was ending. The bright sun rose, chasing away the darkness, and the dawn filled the world. The rising sun looked almost as if it were one with the old man. Perhaps it wasn’t an illusion at all.

“Are you afraid of your merciless god?”

The old man— The aged Monk—was closer to the sun than anyone else in this world.

“Do not consider fear shameful. Everyone in this world carries fear. That is why the brave are praised. To feel fear is natural, and those who stand before a harsh trial are lauded as heroes.”

Standing there was the Great Warrior of the Sun.

The greatest of all Great Warriors—Monk Buddha.

“You poor soul. Your god cast you out. Those who dwell within that place cast you out. And the world itself drove you all the way here.”

Monk Buddha looked past Aaron, who crawled while gritting his teeth.

The place Aaron had fled to by activating his artifact was the Papal Palace—the headquarters of the Order of the Cross. Buddha gazed toward the palace with sorrow. In his eyes, he did not see the dazzling shell of the building; he saw the greedy beings lurking within.

“This is not your fault, poor Great Warrior.”

The Crusaders of the Papal Palace, who saw Aaron crawling desperately, rushed in. With superhuman strength, they charged Buddha, swinging their maces—but Buddha did not dodge a single one. He had no need to. The body of a Monk trained to its limit was as solid as a fortress wall.

“No trial of this level can harm me.”

With a sharp crack, a mace shattered.

The Crusaders stared at Buddha in shock. Buddha traced a taegeuk (movement made by Buddha) in the air, and in the next moment, all the Crusaders collapsed onto the ground. Not one of them was injured. Buddha merely looked upon the fallen Crusaders with pity.

“The Sun is not merciless. If you wish, the Sun will always remain by your side. Poor Great Warrior, if you fear the world beyond death, then come to the Sun.”

The elderly Monk, appearing alone, had overwhelmed the entire Papal Palace. Only then did the Crusaders realize that this Monk was the most powerful Great Warrior of the Sun in all of history—and the greatest of all Great Warriors alive.

While all were overpowered, Buddha heard a voice. It was not the voice of the Sun Goddess Revrua, whom he served, but the voice of the god of Sin and Punishment.

A voice telling him to kill his Great Warrior quickly. A voice promising anything—everything—if he would become its Great Warrior.

To Buddha, that voice sounded like a child crying to obtain whatever it desired.

The god of Sin and Punishment saw Great Warriors as nothing more than tools.

“You will never gain a truly satisfying Great Warrior that way, Lord of Sin and Punishment. A Great Warrior is not a tool—they must be cherished…”

And then.

“……!”

Buddha froze. He sensed a horrifying omen from within the Papal Palace.

「My Buddha, run.」

An indescribable dread. Something beyond was watching him.

Buddha understood instinctively: If he looked back at that, he would die. And such a death was not permitted to him.

「Run, quickly—run.」

The sun was rising. Although dawn had broken, from the moment he sensed it, Buddha felt as if time had rewound and night had returned. It was violence, it was war, it was terror given form— a war god descended to earth.

Momentarily frozen, Buddha murmured: “What… Did you summon?”

The next moment—「RUN!」

With a violent sound, a long spear slammed into the ground beside Buddha. He had not seen its trajectory. A flag with a pitch-black horse flapped from the spear’s end, and dried red blood stained the shaft. The blood was Buddha’s.

“…A dull place, but at least there’s one half-decent old man here.”

Buddha looked at his own body. Beside the spear shaft lay his crushed, severed arm rolling on the ground. Blood dripped steadily as a massive man stepped out of the darkness.

Buddha knew him.

“Do you want to know about war?”

The master of the Eastern Continent. One of the Six Swordmasters, and.

“If you wish, then look upon me, old slave of the Sun.”

One of the Seven Lords.

The Great Warrior of the Iron Prince.

The Descendant of Khan stood there.

“I welcome you anytime.”