Book 10 Chapter 2
Episode 227
“I’ll do it, I’ll do it, so please, please don’t do it!”
Prince Obin, whimpering and raising a white flag, did so as Ellamass was about to kill the fourth guard.
Ellamass killed the guards in incredibly creative ways, as if humans were mere toys.
This time, Obin screamed as Ellamass was about to shove a sword into the guard's mouth and push it down to his heart.
“Yes, how good it would have been if you had listened earlier. These three died because you, utterly incompetent, hesitated. It wasn’t because of me.”
As Ellamass flashed a twisted smile, and Obin brought the flute to his lips, Valensidis was seized by a sense of despair.
‘No.’
Stop it, Obin.
The only reason you and the princess are alive is because you still have utility.
If you play the final movement now and break Ligwind’s barrier… Ellamass will kill you no matter what.
‘I’m sorry to the guards, but even if it means sacrificing all of them, until Rain Ludwig arrives….’
I have to stop him.
I have to guide him onto the right path.
But, but, but… I can’t escape this absolute pressure crushing my entire body, my flesh, my soul.
‘Obin, no! You must not play the flute!’
* * *
“Ashuka couldn’t have rung the bell five times for no reason.”
“That earlier was probably the prince returning.”
“We must go help the prince.”
Many of the soldiers who had been on standby throughout the castle each grabbed their swords and spears and headed towards the royal palace.
They should have been arriving one by one by now, but their progress was halted.
By a single Paladin guarding the path leading to the royal palace.
“Absolute Form, Flash Sever.”
The holy spear, Riunak, scattered a long and violent flash from the Paladin’s grip.
The eruption of sword energy. A frantic beam of power swept across the entire area.
The buildings standing tall on both sides were cut down like paper and collapsed, clearing the stiflingly blocked surroundings.
“Wh-what in the….”
“A spear of light…?”
“That person was clearly guarding the High Priest….”
The soldiers would have met the same fate.
If the black-iron giant hadn’t stood in their way, intercepting the blade of execution.
Heavy… The dragonbone spear held by Bart with both hands creaked violently.
“Retreat until the fight is over! Staying here will only lead to a dog’s death!”
As Bart roared at the soldiers, they glanced at each other, flinched, and slowly backed away.
“With this one exchange, the superiority of your strength and mine has been clearly decided.”
Paladin Sneer twirled his spear shaft with artistic skill, changing his stance.
“My order is to guard this path. I will not pursue or scorn those who flee.”
An order, yes, if it’s an order, then it's an order.
An order that could never be refused.
Bound to the Lizard Lord’s authority, his body resurrected, Ellamass’s commands, which wielded that authority, were absolute.
“Immature warrior, there is no need to rush your death.”
Bart did not answer.
He simply clanked his black-iron armor silently and stepped forward towards the old Paladin.
“I wonder what instills such recklessness in you to defy me. It cannot be your own strength, surely it isn’t because of the Dragon Slayer’s spear?”
What momentarily stopped Bart was the Paladin’s next action.
“There’s no need to be surprised. This is to teach you.”
What Sneer held was a wooden club, lying around on the ground that had turned into a battlefield.
Had children used it for playing soldiers, or was it used for shaking out dry laundry?
Whatever its original purpose, it was certainly not a suitable weapon for this situation.
“What’s important for a warrior is not the weapon, but the warrior’s own skill.”
Did Bart flare up, thinking it was a remark that belittled him?
Or was it due to his impatience to get to the royal palace as quickly as possible?
Bart kicked off the ground, closing the distance in an instant, and swung the dragonbone spear with unnatural strength and speed.
“…!”
That strike, which seemed capable of smashing even bedrock in one go, was easily blocked in mid-air as if by a lie.
What held the dragonbone spear was a club suddenly imbued with an explosive magical force…
The flow of power stopped so calmly that to others, it almost seemed as if a toy of negligible mass had collided.
However, as if to deny that illusion instantly, a strong gust of wind blew, raising thick clouds of sand.
It went a step further.
The wooden club that had stopped the dragonbone spear spun, then struck Bart’s breastplate, sending him flying.
Bart crashed through a street fence, creating cracks in the stone building’s exterior wall, blood spewing from the air holes of his helmet.
‘How can this be…?’
He felt the same despair as that time.
That time when he faced the Dragon Slayer… it felt like standing before a bottomless cliff.
Do those at the pinnacle see something I cannot?
“There’s no need to despair. We, the first offspring, and you humans, are born with considerable physical differences from birth.”
Sneer had a fairly average physique among warriors.
His height barely reached the average, and in terms of build alone, Bart could be considered far superior.
Yet… is this the pinnacle?
If the Fayquery were masters of the sword, then Paladins were一流 masters of the spear. The two pillars of martial power protecting the civilized world.
To cut through the despair rising in his mind, Bart let out a piercing battle cry and vigorously thrust the dragonbone spear.
“Southern Wheel Seventh Form, Five Clear Mountain Systems!”
Even if he had never been arrogant about his strength, his skill was certainly not this pathetic. It shouldn't have been.
“Shouting louder doesn’t change your mastery of a technique.”
But no matter how much he swung, thrust, and cut, it was he himself who was gradually driven into a corner.
“Compared to the original owner of that spear, your skill is embarrassingly poor.”
No matter how much he struggled and exerted himself, it felt as if all that effort returned to his own body…
“Don’t you hear the spear weeping?”
Every sharp, decisive movement conveyed a sense of disciplined precision. There were no flaws in this continuous discipline.
‘It couldn’t have been in vain.’
10 seconds?
Perhaps 15 seconds at most.
‘All that effort couldn’t have been in vain.’
During those 15 seconds.
Sneer, who had blocked Bart’s attacks without moving an inch, had not a single scratch on his body, while Bart’s armor was more than 80% damaged.
His body underneath was drenched in blood… even the hand holding the dragonbone spear was slick with blood.
- Uncle.
- Uncle Bart.
- The world is in turmoil, you must wield a weapon.
Despite his condition, seeing Bart approaching without giving up, Sneer felt a sense of curiosity.
From that near-obsessive spirit, did he feel some kind of… tension?
Before Bart could unleash the Southern Wheel Thirteenth Form in the next moment, Sneer, who had only been defending, launched his first counterattack.
“The outcome is already decided, what are you still fighting for?”
The club’s sharply honed sword energy stopped chillingly before Bart’s eyes.
It hadn’t failed to reach him.
The opponent merely made it not reach.
“Do you seek the path of enlightenment by defeating a Paladin? Do you wish to use me as a tool for renown? Or do you simply wish to die?”
Disordered breaths escaped from inside the crushed black-iron helmet.
“To be the strongest in the world, I have never once set such an impossible goal.”
He inhaled.
And exhaled.
Between those breaths, wheezing mixed with the bloody tinge of internal bleeding. This was because every one of Sneer’s counterattacks had resulted in a fatal injury.
“If that is the case, did you merely challenge me to die?”
Ristar, the hero of humanity.
Arthur Brius, the greatest swordsman of humanity.
He knew in his bones that he was not like them, that he could not walk the same path as them.
Knowing he could not reach the pinnacle, why did he not put down his sword? Why did he always wield a sword?
The reason had always been the same, from the day he first picked up a sword until now. It had never changed.
“I just want to create a world where children don’t have to cry. That’s why I fight. When I first held a sword, and even now.”
This current situation, perhaps Sneer’s expression, which had seemed utterly displeased with his own resurrection, rippled strangely.
“Excellent.”
A faint smile formed on his lips. He felt as if it was his own.
- Did you hear that, just now?
How did his path, who had once said the exact same words, become so twisted?
He still vividly remembered the joy of the day his master, the Sun Dragon, chose him as a Paladin.
The final act of the Paladin investiture was wrapping a pure white silk cloak around both shoulders, proof that the master had chosen him as his guardian.
- I like him. Sneer, is it? I’ll pick this boy.
At that time, there were seven warriors who had reached the final selection. All of them renowned masters of the spear, counted among the best in each branch.
Compared to them, Sneer, then a mere seventeen-year-old boy, was nothing but an unqualified rookie.
Elsara, the youngest master, raised by the Red True Dragon Shalesarum, who illuminated the world’s darkness with good deeds and gained a beautiful reputation.
- But Master, this fellow is the most… among the warriors here now…
When she asked why he learned spearmanship, he remembered giving the exact same answer as that human warrior just now.
- A promising child, you say?
Then the master smiled brightly like a child and chose Sneer.
- What do you think, Dad?
Ignoring everyone’s dissuasions, she wrapped a white cloak around Sneer’s shoulders.
She bestowed the holy spear upon Sneer’s hands.
She chose Sneer as her lifelong companion and guardian.
- I, too, was moved by that child’s will.
It was then that he resolved.
He would dedicate his spear, his life, and his very existence to her, no matter what situation or moment arose.
‘Originally, she was meant to illuminate this world with light.’
Wherever Elsara went, smiles bloomed. Whether humans, demi-humans, or elves were there…
A divine aura emanated from her. In her words, actions, laughter, and voice—in everything.
To be able to serve such a person so closely was truly more than a miracle.
‘It would be a lie to say I didn’t harbor feelings of affection, but knowing my place and duty, I never revealed them.’
Even though he had to hide his feelings, a decade of exceedingly happy daily life repeated itself.
‘But everything changed when Shalesarum passed away on the front lines… as if her very personality had changed.’
Contempt and oppression for the weak, and corruption.
She seemed to believe that the weak had driven Shalesarum to his death. Even though the great Flame had gone by his own will.
Eventually, she sought to obtain necromancy through contact with the Lizard Lord Neigalas.
The abyss seeped into her sorrow and eulogy. Sneer could not stop it.
The situation ultimately deteriorated to the worst.
The elves dispatched a large-scale extermination force to eliminate their pride before it became a disgrace by their own hands…
- Paladin! Why do you protect such an evil person! Have you also fallen?
On the day the renowned elven warriors gathered, Sneer abandoned his convictions and prioritized his duty.
He wanted to create a world where children didn’t cry, but the moment he saw a child, who had followed a warrior, crying, his body froze as if paralyzed.
At that time, Sneer was pierced by seven spears and met his death. This was after he had killed one Paladin and 148 warriors.
- You’re not dead. You will serve me again. Though you must still remain hidden for now.
He had thought he was dead, but his eyes opened, and now he was bound by the chains of necromancy, under Ellamass's control.
If he had served her with duty and love before, now that he was resurrected…
But now, hearing his old words from someone else’s mouth, he felt the chains loosen slightly.
“Truly excellent.”
Muttering thus, Sneer surprisingly widened the distance by nearly ten paces first.
Then, he cast aside his club and spun the holy spear Riunak, which he had carried on his back, catching it.
The holy spear, having received its master’s command, emitted a refined light, forming a blade.
“I hope you will forgive my rudeness in calling you an immature warrior.”
And the way for a warrior to cleanse that rudeness was to put an end to this fight with all his heart and soul.
_Zzzzt…_ With the sound of electricity sparking, the blade of the holy spear, infused with an explosive surge of magic, grew larger and larger.
It took only 1.7 seconds for the high-grade holy spear Riunak, crafted by the elves in their unique workshops, to reach maximum output.
“Human warrior, I wish to know your name.”
While not as versatile as a sword, which is called the master of all weapons, the spear possesses its own unique strengths.
That is the extreme point.
The extreme point of sword energy thrust by a master amplifies lethality to a single spot, possessing a ‘concentrated power’ that the broad sword energy lacks.
“Bart Yuriuns.”
Though he is considered the 11th strongest in the world, to Sneer he is but a mere creature; Bart cannot use sword energy.
He cannot use sword energy to counter that sword energy.
All Bart can do is close the distance and finish Sneer before that sword energy pierces his body.
“I will remember your name.”
It was then that Rem, who had finished his battle with Fell, arrived here.
“What is this?”
With a cry that was almost a scream, there was no time to stop the fight. From the other side, Rain and Miria rushed in.
“Bart!”
Before they could even grasp the situation, Bart, with enhanced leg strength, caused cracks in the ground and shot forward like an arrow.
The holy spear Riunak, blazing like the sun at maximum output, wailed loud and mournfully.
The pure white flash that erupted fiercely from that spear play momentarily stole all light and color from the world…
“…!”
A powerful wave of force, extending in a straight line, grazed Bart’s shoulder.
A fierce heat wound; it only lightly brushed him, yet his shoulder guard melted away.
Seeing Bart, who had avoided that sword energy—a blow that pierced holes in every structure in its path until it reached the horizon—and charged towards Sneer, Rem clenched his fist.
“He dodged it, as expected!”
No, did he dodge it?
Miria’s judgment, whose intuition as a swordsman approached that of a master through memory resonance, was different.
“It’s strange. It’s as if he deliberately fired the sword energy in a way that was easy to avoid.”
Was that all?
Bart and Sneer, having rushed in, began exchanging blows, but this too seemed strange to be considered a fight to the death.
“Belief alone cannot accomplish anything, Bart Yuriuns.”
Sneer’s stance, as he fought, elegantly scattering the sword energy of the holy spear, was impeccably clean.
“A warrior’s belief!”
There were no tricks to deceive or manipulate the opponent, or to exploit weaknesses. It was as if he was saying, "Watch and learn well."
“Must be built upon the bedrock of effort, passion, and skill!”
If the suspicious parts had ended there, they would have intervened in the fight and tried to eliminate Sneer.
“I am making an effort!”
But…
Sneer pointed out Bart’s inadequate posture. By simply piercing the flaw in that posture.
He could kill him at any moment, yet he didn't.
“But I don’t have the same talent as you! I can’t accumulate such skill!”
Just like a swordsmanship master sharpens a disciple's posture during a wooden sword sparring match.
“I too once harbored the same despair as you.”
Like long ago, when Ristar instructed Lin in staff techniques.
So that he could firmly engrave his posture in memory and imitate it later.
Miria shivered for a moment, glancing at Rain, as a past life’s memory surfaced without any context.
“But there’s no need to despair. Build your soul upon your belief. Then one day, you shall arrive.”
Find someone you wish to protect with your life, immature warrior.
No, perhaps there’s no need to search.
For you have already said you took up the spear to protect the children of this world.
- Come here, Sneer.
Perhaps my conviction was weak compared to yours from the very beginning.
Because my skill improved at a frightening rate after I became her spear, more than when I just held that conviction.
What more is there to say? All that could be said has already been spoken through the spear.
“…!”
“…!”
At that moment, Sneer and Bart passed each other. And almost simultaneously, they spun around, thrusting their holy spear and dragonbone spear.
How much time had passed since then?
In Bart’s eyes, he saw Sneer.
From his right shoulder down to his lower body, he was a bloody mess, impaled by the dragonbone spear. Only his left shoulder and face remained intact.
“What is it?”
The power of necromancy drained from his dying body, sending countless wisps of dark purple haze from the severed parts.
“What in the world did he do?”
Bart doubted his senses.
The stinging pain from his wounds remained. In other words, it was the same as before.
So it would be fair to say he hadn’t sustained any additional injuries.
“Why did you withdraw your sword energy, Paladin!”
The moment he saw the glowing light boiling from the holy spear, the moment he leaped into that light, he instinctively knew his end was near.
‘In that case, I would have at least tried to inflict a wound for the sake of my remaining comrades.’
Sneer’s dying expression seemed to provide the answer to this perplexing outcome.
It wasn't a look of bewilderment at this unacceptable victory.
It was a look of relief, as if he had found some answer, and also one of apology… Sneer coughed up blood.
“I hope you know… that I did not withdraw my sword energy to… insult you….”
“…?”
“It was merely because… I remembered once holding the spear with the same conviction as you… and so I could not strike you down….”
He had only unleashed his full power because he wanted to confirm Bart's sincerity. Because everyone becomes honest in the face of death.
Though I failed to uphold that conviction to the end, if someone now, 500 years later, holds the same conviction as my past self.
Even if I cannot encourage it, let me not block his path. Even if I cannot open the way, let me not hold him back.
“I… ultimately could not protect… my conviction… nor her heart… nor anything…”
Although his own battle was over.
Although he had been defiled by sins that could never be washed away.
- We’re going to practice singing now, Sneer, so just sit on the grass and listen.
- But I’m supposed to be guarding…
- Who would attack me? Just listen quietly. Ah! You just laughed, didn’t you? If you laugh at my tone-deafness, I won’t let you off lightly.
- But Master, why singing? I know you are skilled with string instruments.
- Children like songs, don’t they? And unlike instruments, they’re easy to sing along to. Do you think just anyone can buy an instrument?
- I see.
- Yes.
- Understood. I will listen with all my heart.
He wanted to create a world where everyone smiled.
He wanted to create it with her.
At that moment, here was someone striving to create the dream scene that she and he had envisioned.
“Bart Yuriuns… you… do not make the same mistake as I… hold that conviction in your soul and move forward, into the future….”
With his dying breath, the Paladin pulled out the core that formed the central circuit of the high-grade holy spear Riunak.
As he brought that core, the essence of elven forging technology, to the blade of the dragonbone spear, the core seeped into the blade as if they had always been one.
He felt the dragonbone spear pulse largely and fiercely.
“Help her… so she doesn’t cry anymore…”
Order was bestowed upon a weapon that was originally just a simple, crude spear forged from dragon bones, and a new form of power was born.
This was originally a succession ritual.
One of the ceremonies where a Paladin passes on the power of the holy spear to a successor, in case the Paladin dies before the master, or if the holy spear is severely damaged.
“And create… a world… where children… do not have to cry….”
With those last words, Sneer’s body completely dissipated into wisps of haze.
The only trace the old Paladin left on this land was the shaft of the holy spear Riunak, devoid of its core, rolling on the ground.
But his spirit would remain in the spear and soul of the warrior living in future generations, continuing on…
“Bart!”
“This incredible monster, he defeated a Paladin?”
“Just for today, I’ll allow calling it ‘Bart and Rem’s Heart-Pounding Money-Making Adventure’ instead of ‘Rem and Bart’s Heart-Pounding Money-Making Adventure’.”
“Agreed, agreed, oh, agreed.”
It was then that the dispersed comrades gathered. A strange sense of relief washed over Bart as none of them were as severely wounded as he was.
“I didn’t win. He let me win.”
Leaving behind profound words that no one but Bart and Sneer could understand, Bart propped the dragonbone spear on his shoulder and stood up.
“Let’s go. Obin is waiting.”
Bart hoped his fight until now had not been in vain, and he swung his spear; indeed, that fight was not in vain.
Because his spirit had touched the heart of the great warrior who had lingered on in his old life. Because it had freed him from the control of necromancy.
_Roll…_
Long after they left, the holy spear Riunak came to rest at the feet of a child, whimpering and wandering through the chaotic world, searching for his lost mother.
The remaining light power, after the core had gone, headed somewhere.
Following that light as if enchanted, the child soon met his mother, who was likewise desperately searching for him.