Chapter 47
As they descended to the fourth underground floor, Kyle looked at Seron.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“There’ll probably be guards down there. You’ll fight too.”
At Kyle’s words, Seron displayed a look of surprise.
What, was he expecting a free ride from Leonhardt?
Sure, he’d get a ride on the bus, but free riders weren’t welcome.
“Fight… you mean I should fight?”
“You’ve got a sword, don’t you?”
“But…”
It seemed that Seron’s timid nature was in full effect right now.
The sword demon who had fought against the Shabel Tiger wasn’t showing himself at all.
“Don’t you want to become a knight?”
“…Of course I do.”
“If so, then getting blood on your sword is the bare minimum. Being a knight isn’t some romantic occupation.”
Sure, there were noble brats who called themselves knights while avoiding even a drop of blood on their hands.
But that wasn’t going to be the case for Seron.
He was someone who had to become my sword.
“Have you ever killed someone before?”
“…Yes.”
As expected.
It was the natural answer.
A senior gladiator.
To reach that rank, he must have participated in countless battles. Inevitably, they would have been death matches where it was kill or be killed, so it made sense he had experience with murder.
Kyle glanced at him and asked.
“Taking someone’s life isn’t a pleasant experience, is it?”
“…No, it’s not. When I hold the sword, I become numb, but… the moment it’s over…”
Was he feeling guilt?
As Seron spoke, his eyes wavered fiercely.
It was as if memories of the past were flashing through his mind.
“Well, they probably weren’t good memories.”
Even before considering his timid personality, the arena itself wasn’t a cheerful place.
Once a match was decided, he would have faced days of killing or being killed without knowing why.
If he enjoyed such a life, he’d be far removed from normalcy.
Since failure to kill would inevitably lead to death, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume he had drawn his sword out of necessity.
“You have talent with the sword. You know that, right?”
“…Yes.”
“In truth, whether it’s swordsmanship or magic, their fundamental purpose is just one thing—to kill the opponent effectively. Don’t you think I’m right?”
Wealth and honor, prestige.
Most people began their training with such goals in mind, but in the end, the main application of what they learned was in battle.
Unless they planned to live as hermits in the mountains, nine times out of ten, this would be the case.
Hearing this, Seron quietly nodded.
“…That’s true.”
“So, if you want to become a knight, you need to be able to draw your sword naturally. That’s one of the essential qualities. Like it or not, knights are just killing machines. The same goes for wizards.”
Unless this were a modern society.
Otherwise, one had to always be mentally prepared to draw their sword at any time.
No matter how talented they were, if they couldn’t do that, their potential was meaningless.
“After hearing what I’ve said, do you still want to be a knight? Wealth and honor. Fame. In exchange for those material rewards, your hands will be stained with blood countless times in the future.”
“…”
“If you’re unwilling, I can let you go after we escape from here. You’ll be a free man. Of course, how you live after that will be up to you.”
Kyle added a final word to the silent Seron.
“If you choose to stay under me, though, I promise this—I’ll never order you to draw your sword without reason. That’s the most I can promise.”
He had no intention of raising Seron as a sheltered flower in a greenhouse.
After all, whether it was monsters or humans, he’d have to cut down countless beings in the future.
For the sake of peace on the continent, there were far too many beings that needed to disappear.
So, the only promise Kyle could make to Seron was this.
He wouldn’t force him into meaningless slaughter.
That was something Kyle himself despised.
After reflecting deeply on Kyle’s words, Seron asked cautiously.
“…Asking me to draw my sword now, is that part of this?”
“Of course. The thugs and knights who have lived off your suffering in this filthy place—they deserve to die, don’t you think? Think carefully. The act of killing isn’t inherently evil. Not when you’re killing those who deserve it.”
In this medieval fantasy world of swords and magic.
Where even witch hunts that human rights activists would condemn in modern times were common.
Here, power always came before the law.
Kyle had no intention of spouting lofty ideals about human rights or morality.
If someone needed to die, they were killed. If not, they were left alone.
Of course, the guards here fell into the former category.
“I’m giving you the opportunity for revenge. What you need to do is simple. All you have to do is draw your sword of your own will.”
Usually, that would suffice.
In special situations, all Kyle needed was for Seron to become a sword that moved according to his will.
“So, will you do it or not? If you don’t want to, you don’t have to draw your sword. I’ll let you go.”
Well, what will it be?
Kyle had given him enough persuasion.
For a twelve-year-old, he had presented it in a very straightforward and simple way.
Now, Kyle hoped Seron would give him the answer he wanted.
At that moment, Seron made up his mind, nodded, and spoke.
“…I will.”
Sching!
The sword Seron had taken from the guard’s waist.
The moment he drew it.
The wavering in his eyes vanished, leaving them calm.
Seron’s lips curled into a slight smirk.
It was the same expression he had when he faced the Shabel Tiger.
“You still with me?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a relief. You’re not losing control. But I’m curious—how do you feel right now?”
“I can feel the sword. Very strongly.”
“How strongly?”
“It feels… as if we’re halfway merged into one.”
“And yet you can still hear me?”
“Yes. If I focus, I can. But…”
“But?”
“If I stay in this state for too long, it becomes hard to maintain my sanity. I feel like… the sword starts to consume me. All I can think about is cutting things down.”
“Is that so?”
That wasn’t good.
Was it because he still lacked mental discipline?
“Leonhardt.”
“Yes.”
“If he trains hard in swordsmanship, will he be able to overcome this?”
I really hoped the answer would be yes.
Leonhardt glanced at Seron thoughtfully before responding.
“It’s possible.”
“Really?”
That was good news.
Carrying around an uncontrollable bomb was too risky.
If Seron only thought about cutting, he could end up targeting me or Erciel.
That could lead to a serious mess.
“But…”
“But?”
“Judging from his eyes, he seems to have been in this state for quite some time. It won’t be easy to shake off. Both his mind and body have already been deeply influenced by the sword.”
“Still, it can be controlled eventually, right?”
“If he reaches the highest level of mastery, yes.”
“…You mean Expert?”
“Yes.”
Damn.
That’s a long way off.
How could Leonhardt expect someone else to achieve a level he hadn’t yet reached?
I’d need to find an artifact to support Seron’s mental state.
Expecting him to reach Expert-level mastery wasn’t realistic.
Even with the best elixirs, mental techniques, and teachers, it would take at least ten years to reach that level. That estimate was only possible because Seron had top-tier talent like a swordmaster or ironclad warrior.
“Seron.”
“Yes.”
His emotionless reply, coupled with his blank expression, was chilling.
It was like he was a puppet.
Was he possessed by the sword?
Regardless, I needed to ask.
“How long can you stay sane? Be honest.”
“About an hour if I’m not in combat. In battle… probably not more than ten minutes. If there’s blood everywhere, that time will shrink rapidly.”
Judging by his demeanor, I doubted he could even last five minutes in a real fight.
This kid.
He had less stamina than I thought.
“…Have you ever used a weapon other than a sword?”
At my question, his expressionless face flickered slightly.
A subtle change no ordinary person would notice.
But I was quick to pick up on such things.
This might be the breakthrough I was looking for.
After a moment of hesitation, Seron quietly answered.
“…Yes.”
“How did it feel?”
“…I felt nothing.”
“You mean you were in a normal state? Like your usual timid self?”
“…That’s correct.”
Then that settles it.
“From now on, carry two weapons. A sword and a secondary weapon. But it can’t be another sword.”
“…Does it really have to be that way?”
“Don’t want to?”
“Yes.”
I could guess why he resisted.
When he held a sword, he became calm, strong, and transformed into a killing machine.
He seemed to enjoy that feeling unconsciously.
“Do you dislike yourself as you normally are?”
“…I do.”
“So when you hold a sword, you enjoy it because you can abandon that part of yourself. Isn’t that right?”
“…”
This kid was fascinating.
Despite enjoying the transformation, he claimed to dislike drawing his sword.
I could see why.
He likely feared the changed version of himself while being his timid self.
That’s why he avoided drawing his sword, yet smiled in exhilaration when he did.
It wasn’t a dual personality, but it came close.
“Leonhardt.”
“Yes.”
“Train him when we get back. Teach him to use two weapons.”
Leonhardt immediately understood and nodded. If Seron felt overwhelmed by the sword, he could switch to another weapon.
This was the best way to address the dangers of his swordsmanship.
Of course, giving up that addictive sensation wouldn’t be easy.
But with training, it should work out eventually.
If we could pair that with an artifact that protected his mind…
“We’d be able to mitigate the risks significantly.”
With enough training, he might even integrate his normal personality with the one that emerged when he drew his sword.
Balance was always the best state.
For now, with Leonhardt around, Seron was someone I could make good use of.
“For now, fight. After five minutes, put your sword down and fall back. I’ll cover you. This is a test.”
If he stayed consumed by the sword’s influence, he’d be unusable for a while.
If he followed my orders and put the sword down, it would prove he was a reliable asset.
“…Understood.”
After finishing our conversation.
The moment we entered the fourth underground floor.
The guards came into view.
Their numbers weren’t large.
Since the top-tier gladiators were tightly restrained and unable to resist, there were only three guards on duty.
One intermediate knight, two junior knights.
And five men who appeared to be common thugs.
That was it.
I cast Haste on Leonhardt and Seron.
“Take care of it.”
There was no need for me to get involved against such a small group.
Their movements became noticeably faster.
Seron looked surprised by the difference, but Leonhardt wasn’t fazed.
Having experienced my magic before, he approached the knights without hesitation.
The golden aura on his sword shone brightly as he sliced through the knights as if they were butter.
“Ugh!”
The junior knights were cut down in an instant.
Seron, as if regaining his composure, charged at the five thugs.
“Kill him!”
A mere twelve-year-old boy.
The thugs confidently drew their weapons and rushed at him.
But.
The results were no different from what Leonhardt had shown.
In front of Seron’s sword, the five thugs were dismantled in moments.
The fourth underground floor.
It took less than five minutes to wipe out the guards.
—
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