Chapter 27
The condition for completing the Holy Sword of Evram was to feed it the blood of a fallen clergyman.
In the original story, the sword was likely completed with the blood of Auriel, who, despite her saintly qualities, had succumbed to “corruption and debauchery.”
However, I had no intention of following that path.
I, Ezra Drake, have committed nearly every crime imaginable as a pirate.
Those who dared cross me are now resting at the bottom of the sea.
I’m even infamous for not paying for food when it didn’t meet my standards.
But even so, I knew where to draw the line when it came to unforgivable evil.
Betrayal.
The vilest act of crushing another’s trust.
No matter how exceptional, I had no desire for a filthy weapon born from such betrayal.
Especially when that betrayal wasn’t just against a friend or comrade but someone akin to family.
Driven by this personal conviction, I devised the best course of action.
It was now being carried out by the trembling nobles who were reluctantly following my orders.
“P-please stop! I beg you—stop this madness!”
“Silence! How dare you continue to whine?!”
“You’re the reason we’re in this mess! Pay for your sins with your life!”
With no subordinates left standing, the nobles themselves were carrying the heavy Holy Sword of Evram.
The sword’s tip was pointed at Bishop Juda, who was tightly bound to the ground.
The man who had betrayed Auriel and the one who had dragged me into this mess.
Tears streaming down his face, the bishop writhed in desperation, but there was no one left to save him.
Even his loyal priests were trembling as they read from the holy scriptures to complete the ritual.
The sharp blade of the Holy Sword began to pierce the bishop’s stomach, which was pressed firmly against the ground.
“AAAAAAARGH!”
The bishop screamed in agony, his body twisting in pain.
The blade sank smoothly into his stomach, its sharpness cutting through the layers of fat that betrayed years of indulgence.
As blood gushed from his wound, the priest began reciting ritualistic verses.
“And Saint Attila raised the Hand Grenade up on high, saying, ‘O Lord, bless this Thy Hand Grenade that, with it, Thou mayest blow Thine enemies to tiny bits in Thy mercy.’ And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies…”
Blood sprayed as the priest chanted words that made no sense.
In response, an ominous energy began to radiate from the Holy Sword of Evram.
And then—
‘Huh… It’s actually working?’
Honestly, I wasn’t entirely sure this plan would succeed.
Unlike Auriel, whose saintly aura and divine purity were unmistakable, this bishop, while meeting the definition of a “fallen clergyman,” was undoubtedly lacking in overall quality.
Still, I had placed some faith in the fact that he appeared as a formidable boss in the original story.
As if to validate my decision, the sword began absorbing his blood and soul without issue.
“Aaaaaah… Aaaaaah… Aaaah…”
The bishop’s agonized screams grew fainter as his body shriveled.
His once plump form, reminiscent of a well-fed middle-aged man, quickly withered into something resembling a dried-up mummy or jerky.
When it was over, his lifeless body, now a brittle, blackened husk, crumbled to ash with the wind.
At the center of what remained was the Holy Sword of Evram, glowing ominously.
Unlike the simple steel blade it had been moments ago, the sword now emitted a faint blue flame.
Reaching out, I grasped the sword and pulled it free.
The moment I held it, a surge of power coursed through me.
It felt as though my mind was linked to the sword.
Its strength and abilities became instantly apparent.
However, as I analyzed its properties, I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.
‘Hmm… Still lacking, huh?’
While the sword possessed considerable power, it wasn’t nearly as transcendent as it should have been.
In the original story, the Holy Sword of Evram radiated a brilliant blue light, as though made of pure energy.
The current version, however, was merely wrapped in blue flames.
While it had grown stronger from the ritual, it still fell short.
Perhaps the bishop wasn’t a suitable sacrifice, or maybe his “rot” wasn’t fresh enough.
Either way, this version of the sword was noticeably weaker than the one I remembered.
‘Looks like the bishop wasn’t enough… In that case…’
As I contemplated my next steps, I glanced to the side.
“H-how is it?”
A young noble, his face stiff with anxiety, asked nervously.
To his question, I replied with an honest answer in a serious tone.
“Still lacking.”
“W-what?”
“The blood is still insufficient.”
“I-is… that so? How… unfortunate.”
“Yes, truly unfortunate. To think this precious Holy Sword would remain incomplete and defective. If this continues, the great Pope will be gravely disappointed. So…”
With that, I slowly pointed the sword at the noble.
“!”
“W-why are you doing this? I-I’ve done everything you asked! S-so why…”
“Why? You said it yourself. You’d do anything to complete the relic. Shouldn’t you take responsibility for your own words?”
“!… N-no way…”
The meaning of my words dawned on them, and their faces turned pale with terror.
As I looked at the faces of these attempted rapists, I smiled deeply and said, “Let’s give it our all, shall we? We must complete the relic.”
***
“…Haah…”
Auriel sighed heavily as she stood outside the mansion.
Around her were three or four individuals, likely pirates, wearing masks similar to the man’s.
However, unlike his black raven mask, these individuals wore clown masks.
As they stood silently, serving as her guards, Auriel reflected on the absurdity of her current situation.
‘How did it come to this… my life…’
She had been betrayed overnight by someone she regarded as a father, nearly raped, and left for dead.
And now, the person who had saved her and was protecting her was none other than the infamous Pirate King.
All her life, she had believed clergy like Bishop Juda were good and pirates were evil.
Yet today’s events shattered her perception to the core.
What’s more, with the Pope entangled in this affair, there was no way she could continue her life as a nun if this incident became public.
In this state of utter disarray—her home, her beliefs, and her very identity destroyed—Auriel made a decision after much deliberation.
A decision she would have dismissed as madness just hours ago.
But now…
It didn’t seem so terrible.
***
“…Is this as far as it goes?”
I pulled the sword from the body of the last sacrifice, whose corpse remained intact, and once again checked its specs.
The blue light emitted by the sword was slightly brighter than before.
But it still wasn’t as radiant as it was in the original story, and its overall performance fell short as well.
The sword now had healing magic, but it couldn’t fully heal status ailments or severe injuries.
It was only capable of treating minor wounds.
Additionally, its cooldown was two hours—longer than expected.
The buff it provided only increased attack power, and its stat boosts weren’t particularly significant either.
While it was undoubtedly a good sword, it still left much to be desired.
It seemed forcing the sword’s growth with subpar sacrifices rather than its intended nourishment had reached its limits.
‘Well, nothing can be done. This is still decent enough.’
Satisfied that I had achieved one of my primary objectives, albeit in a diminished form, I smiled and surveyed the surroundings.
All the so-called nobles lay dead.
However, thanks to the sword’s “clean-up” feature, the bodies of those absorbed by the sword had turned to ash, leaving only one intact corpse on the ground.
The sword, which had consumed everything in its path, had devoured everyone involved in the attempted crime except for one.
This only reinforced my understanding of Auriel’s extraordinary potential.
So much so that I found myself tempted.
‘Still… there’s no way a devout saint like her would ever join a pirate crew…’
Not only had I openly denounced her faith, but it was unthinkable for someone like her to join a group of criminals like us.
Unlike Magellan and his crew, who shared a similar spirit, Auriel and I were fundamentally too different.
Even so, I couldn’t help but lament the waste of such a remarkable talent.
After setting the remaining evidence ablaze, I walked away from the garden.
And then…
“Please… take me in as your companion… no, as your subordinate.”
“…”
Caught entirely off guard by this completely unexpected request, I was momentarily at a loss for words.
—
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