The God-Possessed Swordsmanship Genius - Chapter 35

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Divine Spirit Sword Prodigy, Chapter 35

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On a cliff some distance from Stoneville.
Swordsmen of the Bigeomdae and the Gangcheol Castle had gathered together, peering down into the depths below.
A deep valley where the wind howled like a blade.
This was the place they called the Sword Grave.
Lucas gazed down at the wind-lashed valley and spoke.

“So this is it. The Sword Grave.”
“It’s been a while since I came out here myself.”

The Castle Lord of Gangcheol had joined this mission in person.
A mission led by the very lord who held Bishuken together.
Perhaps because of his presence, the imperial knights on the cliff opposite made no move of their own.

“That smith, Hestoa, must have been an eccentric sort. Fancying he’d build his own grave in a place like this.”

The Sword Grave was said to hold the swords left behind by Hestoa, the legendary smith of old.
It had once been a hotbed of rumor among mercenaries and adventurers, and it was here that traces of the Demon Sword had been discovered.

“Does the Castle Lord truly believe the Demon Sword is here?”
“Likely.”

The Demon Sword had come to light because of a single incident.

“Three months ago, the Barwi Mercenary Group explored this Sword Grave. Only one man came back.”
“The youngest porter, you mean?”
“Yes. The boy had been bewitched by something. Half his mind was gone.”

The Castle Lord dredged up the memory.

* * *

The Castle Lord had met the porter in person.
Three of the Gangcheol swordsmen who had gone to retrieve him had been wounded.

“What happened in there?”
“The sword… the sword…”
“A sword?”
“The sword… the Demon Sword… Gaaaah!”

Even with the Castle Lord standing before him, the young porter thrashed like a madman.
The Castle Lord subdued the porter and locked him away. The boy didn’t come to his senses until a full month had passed.

“I… I don’t really understand what happened either. I was only doing porter’s work when I found a red blade deep inside the grave.”
“A red blade?”
“Yes. The moment I gripped that sword, I lost consciousness. And when I came to again…”

By then, the Barwi Mercenary Group had been wiped out to the last man.

* * *

“So a young porter slaughtered dozens of seasoned mercenaries. All because he’d been bewitched by a single sword.”

At those words, Lucas’s eyes gleamed.
A young porter who had never so much as held a sword, slaughtering dozens of veteran mercenaries and becoming able to stand against the Gangcheol swordsmen…
That was certainly no ordinary matter.

“What became of that sword, do you know?”
“No idea. By the time the porter made it out of the Sword Grave, there was nothing left in his hands.”
“So it must still be somewhere inside.”
“Likely.”

Gangcheol Castle’s lord nodded.

“Going by the sword’s appearance and abilities the porter described, and how it was found… I’d put the odds at over nine in ten that what’s down there is the true Demon Sword.”
“I see.”

The nine-in-ten estimate was the castle lord’s own opinion.
Still, Lucas didn’t find it strange that he was so confident.
It was hard to imagine there was another blade with that kind of power.

“Didn’t we agree to wait and see whether the Empire made the first move?”

Originally, Gangcheol Castle and Bigeomdae were going to watch the Empire’s movements and respond accordingly.
But today, out of nowhere, Lucas had proposed changing the plan.
He wanted every effort poured into digging through the Sword Grave at once and securing the Demon Sword without delay.

“Is this because of the Second Squad Leader’s guess?”

At the castle lord’s question, Lucas gave a nod.

“It is.”
“So you think what’s over there might be the fake?”
“You said yourself it’s nine in ten, didn’t you? If that one-in-ten turns out to be the case, we need to determine the truth quickly.”

He had a point.
If the Demon Sword over there was a fake, the sooner they established which was which, the sooner they could find the real one.
Even so, to decide so quickly and so firmly…
The castle lord smiled faintly as he looked at Lucas.

“Honestly, you should be the one to become head of the family.”
“…Save the idle talk for later.”

Lucas started toward the foot of the cliff.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

The boy who stepped out of the smithy had a hammer in one hand and a shabby sword at his waist.
A hammer and a sword together.
Somehow both fitting and out of place, the boy asked:

“A sword? Which kind of sword?”
“I’ll have to look around for that first. Are these things here for sale?”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I take a look around?”

At Allen’s question, the boy nodded.
Having asked permission, Allen calmly looked around the smithy.
Or rather, he pretended to.
His eyes swept over the forge, but his attention was still fixed on the boy.

‘He really does look young.’

Renard Maximus.
The name belonged to the boy Allen remembered.
No, I’m not sure I can even call him a boy anymore.
His real age must be several years more than mine.

‘Long time no see, you.’

Renard had been one of the comrades who served with Allen in the Suicide Squad.
Even back then he had looked far younger than his years, but now he looked like a mere boy.

‘How does he still look so young, doing this rough smithing work?’

And he didn’t only work as a smith.
He was a smith, and he was also a swordsman.
He fought the demon race and, at times, repaired his comrades’ gear.
The scars on those calloused, cracked palms could not have come from a hammer alone.
Renard watched Allen closely as Allen browsed the forge.
He had the look of someone waiting for something.

“They’re all excellent.”

For a moment, Renard’s face brightened.
But.

“None of them quite suit my taste, though.”

At Allen’s words, Renard’s expression fell in an instant.

“You don’t see anything you want?”
“Not among these.”
“The better pieces are kept in the back.”

Pride, hard as a stone, colored his words.
He was plainly determined to have his work acknowledged.
It felt as though he were saying, Let’s see you refuse to acknowledge it.

“May I see those as well?”

At Allen’s question, Renard looked him up and down.
He hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Follow me.”

Renard spun around sharply and strode inside.
Following him in, Allen felt an even hotter air wash over him.
The two of them passed through the forge and headed for the storeroom at the back.
Inside the storeroom, fewer weapons were on display than outside.

“You said you wanted to see swords? The swords are over here.”

Under Renard’s guidance, Allen looked over the swords.
Even without touching them, he could feel their sharpness. When he picked one up and held it, the balance of its weight and its rigidity were flawless as well.
Every one of them was worthy of being called a famous blade.
When he glanced back, Renard wore exactly this expression.

Go on, then, say you don’t like this one either.

Faced with Renard’s face, brimming with pride in his craft, Allen spoke.

“Did you make all of these yourself?”

Taking Allen’s question as a compliment, Renard shrugged and answered.

“Not all of them. Some were made by my father.”
“Where is he now?”
“He passed away. Three years ago.”
“Oh… I’m sorry.”

Beneath the casual tone of his reply lay a grief he had pressed down hard and kept sealed away.
To take up his father’s trade as a blacksmith. Perhaps that was Renard’s own way of missing him.

“These are magnificent blades.”
“Right?”
“Yes. Every one of them is a famous sword.”

For a young blacksmith, Renard’s skill was impossible to fault.
It could not have been otherwise.

‘This kid was born a blacksmith with a god’s gift.’

Now and then, the world produces people born with extraordinary talent.
Renard was one of those rare few, born blessed with the blacksmith god’s favor. The Maximus Family had carried that blessing for generations.
A genius who had already reached the realm of a Meister at such a young age.
That was Renard Maximus.

“But… there isn’t a single blade that meets the standard I’m looking for.”
“Excuse me?”

Renard’s brow furrowed in disbelief.
Judging by his reaction, he seemed to think Allen was finding fault just to be difficult.

“Just what kind of sword are you looking for, then?”
“I’m searching for a blade better than this one.”

As he said this, Allen drew the sword at his hip and held it out.

“How good could it possibly be…?”

The moment Renard took the sword in his hands, his eyes widened.
The instant the scabbard touched his palm, Renard sensed it.
This was no ordinary blade.

“T-this… could this be…?”
“Yes. You may draw it.”

No sooner had the permission left Allen’s lips than Renard slid the blade free.
From within the scabbard emerged a blade faintly glowing with a soft green light.
For the first time in a very long while, a shiver ran through Renard’s body.

“Incredible…”

Renard’s reaction was only natural.
After all, this was no ordinary sword.

‘Your Grand Master’s favor is really paying off for me.’

Griffin.
One of the 32 Famous Swords of the continent.
Though it could not compare to the Five Great Famous Swords, Griffin was hardly the kind of weapon one would ever find in a small town like this.
No matter how blessed a blacksmith Renard might be, he could never forge a famous sword like Griffin in a matter of moments.

“This is a Griffin, isn’t it?”

At Renard’s question, Allen was taken aback.
He had expected a skilled blacksmith like Renard to recognize the Griffin’s worth, but he hadn’t imagined he would name it outright.

“How did you know?”
“I’ve memorized the appearances and features of the Five Great Famous Swords, the Ten Great Strange Swords, and the 32 Famous Swords.”

I had forgotten.
That Renard had always had a bit of an eccentric streak.
But I never expected him to have this kind of discernment already at this age. Renard’s talent was greater than Allen had imagined.

“That’s impressive. I didn’t expect you to identify it at a glance.”
“It’s not something easy to come by… You must have come from a distinguished place.”

Renard’s manner grew noticeably more respectful.
With such a broad knowledge of swords, Renard also understood that the people who carried such blades were of high standing.

“Don’t trouble yourself. I’ve only come to look for a sword.”
“A sword more precious than a Griffin, in a little town like this?”

The way Renard asked it, he didn’t sound incredulous at all.
If anything, his eyes held a faintly wary look.

‘So he’s caught on that I came looking for a Demon Sword.’

That the owner of a Griffin was searching for a sword better than the Griffin itself, in a town like this.
No matter how you looked at it, it was a strange thing.

“I’m ashamed to say, but there’s no such sword here. And I can’t make one, either.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Please leave.”

It wasn’t mere wariness.
They hadn’t even mentioned the Demon Sword yet, but a faint anger seemed to radiate from Renard.
Why on earth?
Allen pondered for a moment, then nodded.

“Very well. Then I’ll come back another time…”

That was when it happened.

Crunch.

A presence stirred outside.
Allen’s and Renard’s gazes turned toward the outside of the storehouse at the same moment.
The presence kept drawing closer. Allen and Renard stepped outside.
The visitor who had entered the smithy without a word was a man of lanky build, his head and body hidden beneath a black robe.

“So you were in there.”
“You came by once before, didn’t you?”
“Do you remember me?”
“It’s not as if many customers come through here. Have you come to look at swords again today?”
“Yes.”

The man nodded and scanned the inside of the smithy.
His face was shadowed beneath black cloth.
And at the moment he passed by his side.

‘This one…’

Allen’s eyes flashed.

‘A Main.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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