Episode 196
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There was a world of darkness and winter there.
It was a pitch-black frozen land that stretched endlessly beyond the horizon, its end unknown.
But more than that, what filled that world was a towering castle.
At the same time, indescribably huge tentacles were alive and breathing, wrapping around the castle like the roots of an old tree. They were pitch-black tentacles that were rooted everywhere in the castle, both indoors and outdoors.
The place where Dale and the Wandering Sword were was the interior of the castle, in the gloomy Flamboyant Gothic Great Hall.
There, sitting on a towering black-gold throne, with his back to the dimly burning brazier, was the Shadow Lord.
Become the lord who reigns alone in the fortress of solitude, clad in armor made of the cold of the apocalypse and the darkness of the ages.
“Ah, what a lonely empire it is.”
“Outside this castle there is only cold and darkness.”
The Shadow Lord waved his arm as he spoke. Then, a wall of the Great Hall disappeared entirely, and the cold of the frozen ground beyond it seeped in. The brazier behind the throne began to flicker madly, like a candle fading out in a storm.
But the Shadow Lord waved his arm again, and the walls of the citadel rose up to block the cold air.
He wrapped himself around the tentacles of Shuve and took in the winter of the universe. After that, what the Shadow Lord showed in the world of thought was a power close to that of a god.
A level that ordinary 6th circle magicians would not dare to imitate. Perhaps even 7th circle magicians would not be able to confront him purely without having the ‘warrior’s qualities’.
For the first time, I felt like I could at least catch up with my father’s footsteps in this world.
Let alone the Seven Swords of the Continent that were before him.
Taat!
The Wandering Sword kicked the ground and rushed towards the Lord, but the Shadow Lord did not move.
The lord who reigns over the Fortress of Solitude waved his arm again.
And in the Citadel of Solitude, where no one should be present, the Shadow Lord’s loyal subordinates finally appeared.
Kaang!
Before long, the death knights lined up along Dale, clad in armor of cold and darkness, blocked the wandering sword.
The power of a sorcerer lies in controlling the army. The sorcerer himself does not engage in battle.
And in Dale’s world, there was no need for the flesh and bones of knights loyal to Saxony.
One, two, three, the endless stream of Death Knights that were created from the blind spots of consciousness that the Wandering Sword was unaware of rushed in.
The Shadow Lord did not even raise himself from his black-gold throne.
This is his castle, and it is a weapon in itself against external enemies. He can wield the powers granted to him as a monarch.
The power of the dark blood that comes from the source of darkness, the old mother of darkness that has taken root in this castle.
“Oh my.”
Against the endless rush of knights, the Wandering Sword swung his sword. At the same time, as if he had realized something, he swung his sword vertically.
Phew!
The sword struck the marble floor of the castle, and at the same time, pitch-black blood spurted out from the castle floor.
Kuung!
The entire castle began to squirm and shake like a living creature.
Choaack!
At the same time, the tentacles that had been melting into every corner of the castle began to writhe and surge forward. Only then could I finally realize that the fortress of solitude built on the pitch-black frozen ground was itself a living creature.
Still Dale sat upon the black-gold throne, unfolding the avatar of the Shadow Lord.
Before I knew it, I was looking through the shadows of the wandering swordsmen, who were desperately trying to stop his forces.
The power of insight that is close to the omniscience.
The marble floor of the castle, what I thought were stone bricks, turned into living tentacles that endlessly devoured the Wandering Sword.
Every time that happened, the Wandering Sword swung its stance, and the blood of the Dark Blood was sprayed, polluting the interior of the castle.
“Reveal your true form, wandering sword.”
Just then, the Shadow Lord sitting on the throne spoke.
“… … !”
At those words, Wandering Sword was overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of oppression and held his breath.
In an instant, the tentacles and death knights rushing toward him stopped moving. A freezing silence descended.
“Just as you are looking for a monarch to whom you will be loyal, I too am looking for a sword to whom I will be loyal.”
“Are two swords, a sword and a light sword, not enough?”
“I won’t stop looking for swords until I have seven.”
The Shadow Lord answered.
Phew!
At the same time, a Death Knight managed to plunge his sword into the Wandering Blade. His body had to disintegrate and disappear at the particle level as the blade was imbued with the cold of the apocalypse.
His body was destroyed just like that. Even so, Dale remained silent without moving an inch.
Soon a swarm of cold air swept in, forming a human silhouette.
“Survivor of the Second Empire.”
Looking through his shadow, the Shadow Lord spoke.
“I sought the end of providence with my compatriots, and ‘Winter’ cursed me, mocking my foolishness.”
It was not the body that constituted his being.
He was a ghost, a phantom, or in other words, a phantom that should have died in the distant past. He was someone who could not die even if he wanted to. Even if the Heavenly Sword and the Divine Sword could break his sword, they would not be able to cut down his very existence.
So the Shadow Lord sitting on the black gold throne rose up.
Hurrruk!
The brazier behind him began to burn as if it would burst, and was reborn as a scattering of flames as if it would explode.
At the same time, along the armor of the dark blood, blood-red patterns began to appear, boiling like magma between the black rocks.
His power as a Shadow Lord has not yet been shown to anyone.
The black, red, and blue magical powers that reached the end of providence were fused together, and an intimidating feeling that was incomparable to anything before was emitted.
It was such an overwhelming force that even Dale’s own consciousness seemed to be blown away.
A power so overwhelming that it almost seems like it has reached the realm of the gods.
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Even the act of controlling the explosive magical power is overwhelming. Wielding this power would be like pouring down a bottle of strong liquor straight.
And it was worth the risk.
The Shadow Lord stomped the ground, holding the swirling tri-colored magic. The blade rose. It was not the demon sword Kia at his waist, nor the dark-blooded armor that blazed like magma.
Marble floors, stone bricks, red carpets, armored figures in full plate armor… … .
Hundreds and thousands of shadow blades rose from all over the castle’s interior and struck down at the Wandering Sword.
It was literally a bombardment of a thousand swords.
Kaang!
“Ah, ahh… …! Yes, this is it.”
In front of the sword’s barrage, a colorless aura began to swirl around the body of the wandering sword. It was an aura that was not colorless or intangible, but had a definite form.
“You can’t even imagine how long I have searched for the one I truly must serve!”
The Wandering Sword roared as goosebumps ran down his spine. Then, as the aura surrounding his body exploded, his thoughts were finally revealed.
Avatar of the Seven Swords of the Continent, the Wandering Sword. A survivor of the Second Empire. A twisted elf corpse, like a mummy.
A ghost who wants to die but cannot die in a twisted providence.
At the same time, the attitude of the wandering sword swept towards the shadowy heavenly swords swirling in all directions. It was a sword dance imbued with such swiftness that it could even cut through all of the thousand blades.
Even after striking down a thousand shadow blades, the Shadow Lord’s attacks did not stop. He did not swing the sword he was holding in his hand.
Because this entire castle was his sword and his weapon itself.
The endless storm of shadows swirling around, sometimes blades, sometimes his creations. Shadow Lurkers spurted their thorny tentacles from the gaps in the red carpet, and black gun barrels fired from beneath the shadows of the chandeliers.
Death, death, and death again followed. Even the world’s greatest wandering sword would have been helpless before it.
“I, no, I… … have been wandering around looking for a being that can truly give me death!”
He died, died, and died again. Each time, joy filled his heart.
“O Lord of Providence and Truth, who truly frees me from the lies that have consumed this body!”
“Your wanderings will end.”
After endless slaughter, the castle finally stopped moving.
In the meantime, the Shadow Lord was sitting on a black gold throne.
“On the day this empire falls.”
“gladly……!”
The wandering sword knelt down and bowed its head. Compared to the endless years of wandering he had to endure, being loyal to his lord seemed like a fleeting moment.
“I will gladly give my all for the downfall of this empire!”
Another sword pledged its allegiance, and it was quite easy to gain his loyalty.
* * *
“Oh my, damn it. What did this guy eat so badly that he’s hitting his head on the head?”
When Dale finally unlocked the world of thought, Master Baro asked about the scenery there.
“That happened.”
Dale shrugged and glanced around.
“From now on, we are the thugs who are loyal to the boss!”
There was still the ‘Dark Moon’, the executive branch directly under the council, which had its head buried in the ground, and the rulers of the Free Cities Alliance, who had seven heads… …now six heads, were no exception.
“From now on, we are the thugs who are loyal to the boss!”
In addition, the wandering sword also began to shout powerfully.
“Well, it’s good that there are a lot of idiots.”
“Huh, Shippal. There really isn’t a separate Dark Lord.”
The Shadow Lord answered as if it were someone else’s business. Master Baro shook his head in disbelief.
* * *
After wrapping up his affairs with the Free Cities Alliance, Dale finally returned to his duchy.
Shortly thereafter, news spread that would turn the entire continent upside down.
In the name of the Sistine Chapel, and furthermore, the ‘Heavenly Duke’ and his cardinals who stand atop the church and the White Tower, have together announced two facts.
One, a devout blacksmith who received a revelation from the sister god succeeded in forging another ‘Holy Sword Durandal’… …and the Holy Sword chose its own master.
Second, the swordsman of the Holy Sword is the virgin Aurelia, who was once defeated by the ‘Black Prince’ and turned to ashes in the frozen soil of Saxony.
However, it is impossible for a pile of burnt ashes to hold the Holy Sword. Therefore, the Heavenly King officially announced the miracle of the resurrection of the ‘Holy Virgin’ through the power of the Sister Goddess.
As if the fact that her existence was a creation of the devil was not a problem, under the assurance of the White Tower, the Holy Virgin was resurrected from death and reborn as the Sword Master of the Holy Sword.
With the White Tower and Holy Sword on her back, the pure white virgin gained a reputation that even the Empire could not do anything about.
Leaving behind the blue spiderweb that still bound her body.
