The Second Salvation Myth of a Retired Regressed Hero

+++

Doyun murmured as he examined the label on the wine bottle in his hand.

“…This is absurd.”

“Ahahahah…! Hahah!”

Seeing Doyun’s expression, Eloah doubled over clutching her stomach, guffawing uncontrollably.

“What are your impressions?”

“You’ve grown quite mischievous in my absence, Brudhild.”

“Seems one’s personality changes with age.”

Doyun reread the wine label with an inscrutable expression.

“The Războlnic Edition, really…”

A crystal bottle containing alluring crimson contents transparently visible, engraved with an ornate gilt ‘Războinic Edition’ label.

The vintage year was 130 years ago – the year Enoch Războlnic was born.

“You’re telling me they actually charge a premium for drivel like this?”

“Please handle it with care. That would easily fetch 500 gold coins at auction.”

“…Have you lost your mind? 500 gold coins for a single bottle of wine?”
“It’s not merely the Războlnic Edition premium. That wine itself is truly exquisite.”

“…I shall drink it with gratitude then.”

“How ironic. The Războlnic Edition being consumed by Războlnic himself…”

“Pfft, tehee, hahahah…!”

When Doyun gave Brudhild a conflicted look, Eloah finally burst into raucous laughter.

As they circulated their wine glasses, they conversed – Doyun recounting his reincarnation process to Brudhild as he had to Eloah, while Doyun listened to Brudhild’s tales from the past century.
Then, Doyun asked the question that had long nagged him.

“So what’s the deal with your lifespan?”
Despite 100 years passing, Brudhild remained alive, merely aged.

He was human. This should have been utterly impossible.
After swallowing the wine in his mouth, Brudhild spoke,

“I don’t know.”

“…Pardon?”

“Truly, I don’t know. One day while walking, a system message about receiving a longevity blessing suddenly appeared before me. From that day onward, I stopped aging. I have no idea what caused it either.”

Through his Seventh Sense, Doyun confirmed he wasn’t lying.

Really? Did that even make sense?

“…Astonishing indeed.”

“Yes. Truly astonishing.”

Brudhild smiled awkwardly.

But soon, he gazed wistfully at the crimson wine, swirling his glass as he spoke,

“Which is why I’ve come to think… perhaps it really was a supernatural occurrence.”

“Supernatural?”

“That my late father in the afterlife is watching over me.”

“Hmm…”

Doyun silently nodded.

‘Well, not a bad interpretation.’

Doyun too felt a lingering sense of wistfulness thinking of his departed friend, idly swirling his wine glass.

While utterly inexplicable, there was simply nothing more to uncover. And no need to dwell on it further either.

“Yes, if that’s the case, so be it.”

Doyun decided to leave it at that pleasant assumption.
The conversation flowed once more, eventually reaching the topic of the gallery.

“Ah. You still haven’t opened the gallery doors, have you?”

“…No. Regrettably, I have not.”

A slightly flushed Brudhild from the wine smiled awkwardly.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. Your father was the renowned Sword Saint – surpassing him is no easy feat.”

“Haha…”

“How about a look? Shall I open it for you?”

“Pardon? You can open it?”

At his words, the similarly flushed Doyun smiled faintly, swirling his wine glass.

“Why not? You doubt my ability?”

“Ah… no. Now that I think about it, that’s only natural.”

Brudhild was reminded anew of the man before him.

While overshadowed by the ‘Hero’ epithet, the greatest swordsman of the century 100 years ago had been Enoch Războlnic himself, not Brudhild’s father.

Hadn’t her father incessantly stated that Buske’s Style was based on Războlnic Willow Style, and that his own comprehension of Manifest Sword couldn’t reach Enoch’s feet?

This was only natural, though Brudhild hadn’t known – Enoch’s Războlnic Willow Style had encompassed even Buske’s swordsmanship he had encountered prior to the 18th iteration.
By the time the 18th iteration Enoch met Buske, Enoch’s Buske’s Style had already far surpassed Buske’s own.

Războlnic Willow Style was truly an amalgamation of experience, a quintessence blending the strengths of Buske’s Style and the myriad geniuses Enoch had encountered.

Moreover, from a certain point onward, Enoch had revealed the secret of reincarnation to Buske, and in each subsequent iteration, Buske had imparted everything to Enoch, collaborating endlessly to research, modify, and refine Războlnic Willow Style.

Buske’s lifespan was limited. But Enoch lived practically eternal, reincarnating countless lifetimes. Buske would eventually end, but Enoch’s swordsmanship and research would not. Buske had focused on this fact.

For Buske, aiding Enoch had also been part of perfecting the sword – the path of the sword itself.

The genius who had discarded everything in single-minded pursuit of sword mastery.

That man had been the famed Sword Saint, Buske himself.

And this Sword Saint had acknowledged Enoch Războlnic’s superiority, the creator of Manifest Sword which had been the pivotal enlightenment for perfecting Buske’s Style – who now stood before his disciple Brudhild.

As the mood settled, Doyun turned his head with a sheepish expression,

“Well… while we’re looking around, I’d appreciate taking one for myself too.”

“Ah, of course! Please feel free to take whichever you like without reservation, Uncle.”

“Hmm, hmm. Yes, since you insist so kindly. Having enjoyed this precious wine and now taking a sword too… I suppose I should diligently instruct you in return, lest I be utterly shameless.”

“Haha. Not at all. If Uncle feels that way, I’m the one who should feel ashamed instead. Have no worries. And also…”

Doyun looked at Brudhild as her voice trailed off.

“Father instructed that if he were to perish in battle, two swords from his collection should be bequeathed to you, Uncle.”

“Oh? He said that, did he?”

“Yes. Apparently, it was a wager of sorts…”

Ah.

Doyun recalled the wager he had made with Buske in front of his wealth vault long ago.

‘Ten years. I’ll bet it takes me ten years to open this door.’

‘Impossible. Even if you’re a genius, I died fighting the Demon Lord to gain this enlightenment. I’ll take thirty years.’

.
.
.

‘But if I win, I get to take three swords from your collection.’

‘…Two swords.’

‘Deal.’

…So that Buske had even accounted for such an eventuality.

“…No. The wager ended in a draw.”

“Pardon?”

“So I’ll only take one sword.”

Brudhild opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.
In Doyun’s downcast eyes as he sipped his wine, she glimpsed his lingering wistfulness for his departed friend.

“…Yes. As you wish.”

After swallowing, Doyun spoke,

“Shall we head there now?”

“I’m ready whenever.”

Doyun nodded, and Eloah chimed in from the side,

“Me too! I want to come too!”

“Very well. Let’s finish these glasses and go together.”

“Can we bring Sophie too? It is the Sword Saint’s gallery after all, I’d like her to have a look as well. And I should justify why I’ll be receiving a sword.”

“Yes, I have no objections. Let’s have the head maid summon them.”

“My thanks.”

The three slowly finished their remaining wine before Brudhild rang a bell, summoning the head maid.

+++

The group descended a spiral staircase leading underground, its walls glimmering with luminescent stones.

The three had already circulated their mana to dissipate any alcohol effects, even employing magical concealment so Sophie remained unaware.

“Wow… the Sword Saint’s gallery I’ve only heard about in class. I can’t wait…!”

“Haha. But the interior is quite modest, so don’t expect too much.”

As the air grew still, Brudhild asked Sophie,

“Disciple Sophie, are you aware of the gallery’s lock mechanism?”

“No, is it a special lock?”

“Yes. It operates through quite a peculiar method. As a result, its practicality is extremely limited, so it’s now only used for ceremonial or showpiece purposes.”

Brudhild only explained that much, omitting details like how the gallery’s lock could only be opened by two people in the entire continent, and how its doors hadn’t been opened even once in the past 100 years.

Before long, they arrived at a modestly sized chamber.

“We’re here.”

An unremarkable stone door slightly taller than a person appeared.

“Is this… the lock you mentioned?”

“Yes. That small slit in the center of the door is the keyhole.”

“It doesn’t seem particularly special from the outside…”

Shing-

Brudhild unsheathed the sword from his hip. Startled by the sudden draw, Sophie looked at him.

“This lock opens by injecting sword aura into it.”

“Pardon? Sword aura?”

Brudhild smiled politely.

In fact, simply injecting sword aura alone wasn’t enough to open it.

During its initial setup, only a purer and more potent sword aura than what had been injected could unlock this mechanism.

And this wasn’t a matter that could be resolved by merely pouring in mana, but rather one of ‘enlightenment’ – the realm of swordsmanship itself.

Hence its pragmatic utility was quite limited. While sword aura wielders were rare, the continent was vast – if one wished to find someone stronger than the lock’s owner, it wouldn’t be impossible.

But for two individuals – the Sword Saint Buske and the Legendary Hero Războlnic – their locks had been different, boasting security surpassing any continental safeguard.

For no key stronger than theirs could exist in this world.

“Disciple Han Doyun expressed his desire to open it himself.”

“Yes, I entrust it to you.”

With a mischievous grin, Brudhild handed the sword to Doyun.

Prompting a puzzled look from Sophie.

“But Doyun can’t produce sword au…”

In that instant.

Fwooosh-

“…Eh?”

Sophie’s words caught in her gaping mouth, unable to close it.

She had witnessed a dazzling golden sword aura emanating from Doyun’s blade, leaving her utterly stunned.

‘As expected…’

Inwardly, Brudhild and Eloah marveled greatly at the spectacle – a brilliance and purity they could never hope to replicate.

But then, a thudding sound came from behind Doyun.

“Hm?”

Brudhild, Doyun, and Eloah turned to look.

Sophie had collapsed to the floor, her legs giving out as she stared wide-eyed at Doyun’s sword aura.

Disbelieving, her agape mouth trembled.

“Ho, how… already producing sword aura…”

Seeing her reaction, Eloah hurriedly sent a telepathic message to Brudhild and Doyun.

[Ah… Oops. I, I forgot.]

[Forgot what?]

[Sword aura can only be produced upon reaching Swordsmanship Level 4, when the ‘Sword Aura’ skill is generated to allow system-assisted manifestation…]]

[Pardon? What are you saying?]

[So by then, the ‘Sword Aura’ skill emerges, enabling one to manifest sword aura with the system’s aid.]

Brudhild too seemed to realize the issue, giving an awkward look.

[Oh dear. Publicly, Uncle is still just a fresh Cradle graduate.]

[Exactly…]

[…Am I really such an anomaly? Typically, how long does it take a disciple to reach Swordsmanship Level 4?]

[Even prodigies require at least 3 years.]

[…]

Having heard their explanation, Doyun too fell silent.

This was news to him. It must have been covered during the first or second week’s classes that Doyun had frequently missed.

‘…No helping it, I suppose.’

Going forward, she would often be startled. Each time, he could only dismiss it as a genius’s quirk.
Leaving the still agape Sophie behind, Doyun approached the door and inserted the shimmering golden blade into the slit.

Creak… Crunch…

After 100 years firmly sealed, the Sword Saint’s Sword Collection Gallery began unveiling itself.