LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 61
Chapter 61. The Unyielding Holy Sword
“Your Highness! You mustn’t!!”
Fisero leaped out and blocked my path.
Unbeknownst to me, I had been swayed by the Holy Sword, my hand almost grasping the hilt.
“This sword belongs to the hero of the Human Race.”
With a gentle tone, he urged me to stop.
“It is imbued with strong holy magic. It will endanger your body.”
“…I figured as much.”
To hide the truth, the one who infused that magic was none other than my past self.
“Moreover, it was forged by a very skilled Dwarf Blacksmith. We Dwarfs can handle it without issue, but if you touch it, Your Highness, who knows what might happen…”
Even among the captives, Fisero, chosen by the chief craftsman, acknowledged his ability.
That guy really was a talented blacksmith.
…But why can’t I remember his name? It’s frustrating.
However, I clearly recall the sight of him forging the sword. First, I infused the holy attribute magic into the material, and he forged it with all his might, both of us nearly passing out from sealing the magic in the final touch.
It might not compare to the ‘true piece’ that a Dwarf Blacksmith forges once in a lifetime, but it’s undoubtedly near a masterpiece.
The holy attribute infused into the blade amplifies the wielder’s power many times over—wreaking havoc against the forces of darkness.
…Just using holy attribute magic myself causes my body to burn.
What would happen if I took hold of this sword? There was no need to think twice about it.
But—
“Fisero, I did hear your warning.”
I spoke calmly.
“So, no matter what happens next, I will not hold you responsible.”
I pushed past Fisero, who stood in my way.
“……”
—It’s been a while. Seven years, maybe?
Even after its wielder was defeated by the Demon Lord and tossed into storage, it has waited here without being destroyed.
…How nostalgic I felt.
Meanwhile, the blade shimmered with a menacing glow under the light of the lamp and furnace, almost as if asking, “Who are you?”
…Well, I guess it wouldn’t know. After all, I’ve become something of darkness. That much is certain—
I reached for the hilt.
And gripped it tightly.
A sharp sound like heated iron being plunged into water echoed, and smoke rose from my hand.
“I told you so!”
Fisero shouted, but then quickly fell silent, looking puzzled. I wouldn’t let go.
“Ughhh—!!”
Damn, that hurts. My fingers, my palm—not only was it burning, but the holy magic was flooding into me, boiling my entire arm.
Yet—amidst that intense pain, a strange sense of nostalgia washed over me. It was a familiar sensation. …Without a doubt, it was the remnants of Hero Alexander. This sword was my companion and my alter ego.
I chuckled wryly. What tenacity and hostility I have. But ironically, sword, you’re burning the original owner alive.
Snap! I flicked my left hand’s fingers to create a soundproof barrier. The commotion of the forge faded away, leaving only the sound of the Holy Sword scorching my body.
“…I’m happy to see you again.”
I murmured without moving my lips too much; Sophia, observing from the corner of my eye, might know how to read lips.
I endured the pain. I endured. I endured.
“…Hey, can you let up soon? My arm feels like it’s about to burn off.”
The sensation in my fingertips was fading. I might really end up carbonizing… I’ve been close to carbonization lately.
Faintly, I felt the pain from the holy attribute lessening. It almost seemed like the sword was confused, thinking, “How long is this guy planning to keep holding on?”
How long? Until you understand.
Because,
“I am Zilbagias—”
And at the same time.
“—and I am Alexander.”
—It felt like the sword slightly trembled.
“What it said was true. It hasn’t broken, even when fighting the Demon Lord.”
Even clashing against the spear imbued with the power of the Demon God and the soul of the first Demon Lord, it did not break.
If that guy were to hear this, he’d be beaming with pride.
“—This is a sword that has purely pursued durability.”
After completing the forging, exhausted, he had said.
“Cutting sharpness, body enhancement, protective charms! All those things take a backseat! Instead, just make it damn strong! Not breaking! Never betraying your expectations and trust! That’s the kind of sword I made…!”
He thrust a brand-new sword at me gruffly.
“Now, it’s up to you to handle it here!”
He pointed to his head.
“I asked. What is the name of this sword?”
“I used an old term. It means ‘sturdy’ or ‘unyielding.'”
The name of this sword is—
“—Adamas.”
I remembered.
Holy Sword Adamas. My sword.
With a crackling sound like thunder, the Holy Sword radiated light.
An impact struck my hand. My arm nearly shot off. It felt rejected—!?
No, that’s not it.
Because I called its name, it regained its original power. The Holy Sword vibrated with joy, as if a lost master had returned from the netherworld—!!
It was something that shouldn’t be possible. Hence, the Holy Sword seemed to be confused. The power needed to protect and support me, and the power to injure the forces of darkness clashed chaotically—
“I can’t just sit here.”
I thought I heard a voice tinged with a sigh. The bones of soldiers, coiling around my belt, began to stir. Shaping like a snake, they wound up my arm—
As if to protect my hand.
Or to soothe a crying child.
They wrapped around the hilt, blocking the holy glow—and gently pulled the pain from my arm.
“—For now, rest. [You are just a sword.]”
At the right time.
I will awaken you again, so lend me your strength.
The once-shining silver blade suddenly dulled. It looked as if it had aged like an antique sword.
The holy magical power fell silent. For now, it became merely a bit too sturdy of a sword. Touching the blade only gave me a light, tingling sensation; it no longer scorched my skin.
I swung it lightly.
While it was perfectly sized for my previous life, my current body has me struggling a bit. After pouring magic into every inch of me, I swung it again.
With a sharp sound cutting through the air. Good. I extended the grip made of bones further, transforming it into a spear-like form, and swung it around.
Thrust, sweep, and—slash.
“…Nice.”
Once my body grows a little more, it will be quite formidable.
Feeling satisfied, I released the soundproof barrier and turned to the onlookers, who were holding their breaths.
“Woof! Woof!”
My hands are a mess again! Why does this keep happening? I just healed them a moment ago!! Annoyed, Liliana approached and started licking my hands. Feeling sensation return to my almost numb hands, I thanked her repeatedly.
“—I like it. I’ll take this sword.”
“No… but Your Highness…”
Fisero furrowed his brow, a mix of confusion and slight disappointment on his face.
“You could have forged as many as you wanted without even touching it…”
He looked at the completely faded Holy Sword, as if bitter about it. He must think I’ve permanently lost its original value because of my forceful inheritance.
Dwarf weapons are just as finicky as their creators. I’ve heard that even among Dwarf kin, inheriting weapons can go awry. Once you fail, according to their rules, the magical power of the weapon is significantly diminished—
Such a ornery piece of equipment, to have been inherited by the same person even after reincarnating, I must be the first and last case. Of course, I have no intention of making this public.
“Fisero. What do you think of this sword?”
I handed him the now-faded, sleeping Holy Sword.
“…It’s a good sword. Even in this state.”
His expression softened, as if he were gazing at a cracked, large jewel.
“The faint magic lingering allows it to be far sturdier than any normal weapon. It should withstand a dragon’s bite easily… Just how much passion and prayer went into crafting this masterpiece…”
Fisero’s words trailed off, lost in a sigh.
“Yes, even in this state, it’s sufficient. I’ll say again, I like it, and I’ll take it. Is there a price?”
“I am neither its creator nor its owner. Feel free to do as you wish.”
Fisero returned the sword with a frown.
“But it’s alright. If a sword surpassing the one you have now can be made, anyone in this workshop can forge it. There’s no need to use a relic of the Hero—”
He fell silent there, bearing a look that seemed to say, “There’s no need to do something so tasteless…”
Sure. To Fisero and the others, I’m the prince of the Demon Race—and considering whose life I might harvest swinging this sword.
It’s only natural they would react this way.
“…Hmm. Then, can something new that rivals this sword be forged?”
“That is…”
He opened his mouth—but then fell silent.
The Dwarf craftsmen around him wore equally troubled expressions. Even the heat of the forge seemed to have cooled a bit.
“…The essence of forging magic, Your Highness…”
Fisero said, squeezing the words out.
“It is—prayer. The wielder’s luck, their success. It is the feeling of praying and wishing… That is its source.”
Even having become captives, the Dwarfs swing their hammers with pride as craftsmen.
The works they create, even if for the forces of darkness, are crafted to perfection without cutting corners.
However—even so, we are enemies.
How many craftsmen can pray for an enemy they despise? One who may injure their comrades.
Even if the quality is top-notch, if there is no heart behind it—
“I knew that. Magic—miracles are really like that.”
I chuckled softly, stroking Liliana’s head.
“So, this sword is fine.”
I held the sleeping Holy Sword up before me.
“This sword is good.”
This time, I’ll truly make use of that guy’s stubbornness and passion.
“As a trade-off, Fisero.”
“…Yes?”
“I’m talking about the scale armor.”
As I brought it up, Fisero’s eyes widened in realization. He had claimed he would do the work for healing my arm, but now essentially confessed he couldn’t create a top-tier piece himself.
“I will fully complete the work based on Your Highness’s kindness. There will be no issues with quality.”
“I know that. Still, it’s a matter of the heart, isn’t it?”
“…………”
“Now then, I vow this.”
I locked eyes with Fisero, his proud, craftsman gaze.
“—[While I wear that armor, I will never harm your kin… the Dwarfs.]”
Fisero and the surrounding craftsmen gasped.
“…This is the maximum sincerity I can show.”
…Fisero bowed deeply.
“I am a craftsman as well.”
In his eyes burned a powerful will.
“And now that you’ve said that—there isn’t a Dwarf who wouldn’t have their heart ignited.”