Chapter 149. Have You Suffered Much?
Shine, who had been staring at the inscription on the gravestone, turned her gaze toward the space beside it.
Next to her own gravestone stood another.
[Shamid von Lorutel.]
It didn’t take long for Shine to notice the neatly placed box in front of Shamid’s gravestone.
“This is…”
On top of the box lay a single envelope.
Shine brushed off the dust with a few taps and opened the envelope.
It was a letter left behind by Shamid. And when she read its contents, Shine was able to resolve some of the questions she had felt while passing through the gate.
[To my friend, my idol, Shine von Leman.]
[This place was originally meant to honor my friend, the one who once shone so brilliantly, Shine. It was arranged in order to return the demon sword as per our promise.]
The preface of the letter began by explaining the purpose of the Sword God’s Tomb.
However…
[…I know that the promise cannot be kept.]
[My friend, the one I made the promise with, has crossed the river of no return.]
[I clung to a faint possibility and waited for her successor, but now that this waiting nears half a century, it too seems impossible.]
Shamid knew that Shine would never return. It was only natural. There was no way Shamid wouldn’t have known of Shine’s death. He had waited for her successor on the off chance, but realized the futility of it just before his own death.
‘So that’s why… all the trials were like that?’
Shine had thought it strange.
If Shamid had known of his own death, then this place must have been left for her successor. So why were the gates structured in such a way that only Shine herself could have understood them? Why were the first two stages so indistinct in their distinctions?
From the beginning, Shamid hadn’t truly expected anyone to pass.
Yet there was still a question.
‘If so, then why make these trials at all? There would be no reason to create them in the first place.’
Shine, with that doubt lingering, continued to read the letter. And as she did, her nose stung and her brow furrowed tightly.
[If you who read this letter are my descendant, turn back immediately.]
[This is a letter meant for my descendant.]
However what followed enveloped Shine in an emotion she couldn’t quite name.
[This demon sword is my final act of faith. The last speck of light remaining in a stained chivalry.]
[So, please, turn back.]
[Though it is a promise I could not keep…]
For Shamid, keeping this vow held meaning in the act itself.
To preserve even a sliver of faith. For the tiniest fragment of purity remaining in what he himself had called “tainted chivalry.”
But, what kind of life must he have lived?
He said he tore out his burning knight’s heart and became a cold-blooded head of family, yet still held on to warmth. He was born of steel and became a serpent, yet still clung to his promise.
He said he tore out his heart? He said he became a serpent?
Shamid had been more of a knight than anyone Shine had ever met. Even when he was repeatedly defeated by her, he upheld his beliefs and carried them through. It was sometimes frustrating, but…
‘You were a knight.’
Then, what kind of path did he walk?
No, since he became head of the house, his life was somewhat predictable. So asking “what path” he took was not quite right.
Thus Shine changed the question.
‘Just… how did you endure it?’
Unable to adapt, unable to submit, unable to fall into corruption or simply abandon himself.
He had lived his entire life suppressing his heart as a knight while performing the duties of a patriarch, enduring the agony of a soul being ground down.
This… was something easy for Shine to understand. And for most knights, it was something easy as well. Because everyone becomes stained and dirty.
That’s what living means.
But why…?
Shine read between the lines of Shamid’s calm handwriting, feeling the erosion of his soul. Her trembling eyes traced the footprints of that spirit.
[I know. This is a promise that can never be kept.]
[Just the regret of an old knight.]
[So, please turn back.]
[The soul of the radiant knight is dead.]
[This is the path of one who has grown old.]
However…Shine could not deny it.
Though the knight named Shamid may have died… His soul remained as unshaken as ever.
[Do you still yearn for Lorutel so deeply that you cannot let go? Has power crumbled and your blade dulled?]
[If so, then draw it.]
[The single thread of conviction you have held so dearly your whole life, so that you can cast aside your pride for your house without hesitation.]
[But when all power has been reclaimed, do not forget this:]
[That beneath that new power lies the name Leman.]
When Shine finished reading the letter to the end…She understood.
She understood what kind of heart had led Shamid to create a masterless tomb, and why he had left behind meaningless trials. It was, as written, the vain lingering of an old man. And, at the same time, his regret.
And yet, when Shine thought to that point…
Scratch!
The two overlapped letters slipped apart, revealing another sheet beneath.
A short line, unlike the formal tone of the first.
[Shine, my fierce friend.]
[I miss those days.]
Only then did Shine fully understand Shamid’s heart. It was a longing for times long past. Shine carefully folded the letter and stepped toward Shamid’s gravestone beside her own.
“Have you suffered much?”
There was no answer, yet Shine felt she knew what it would be.
[More than words can say.]
Unbecoming of the head of Lorutel, perhaps, but Shamid had always been that sort of man. One who calmly acknowledged his shortcomings and ceaselessly strove to improve. Honest to a fault, steadfast to the point of stubbornness.
‘I thought he might adapt once he became head of the house…’
Seeing such a letter, it seemed he hadn’t. Even to his dying moment, he had carried such deep sorrow.
“You’ve worked hard.”
It was a phrase filled with layered meaning.
“And thank you.”
She was never good with words, this was as far as she could go. If she had been the cunning sort, perhaps she could have said something more elegant. Shine placed the wildflowers she had brought before the gravestone and bowed her head in silent prayer.
After some time…
“I will repay this debt.”
With that brief vow, Shine finished her farewell to Shamid.
The very first thing she did afterward was destroy her own gravestone.
Not merely because she was alive.
Though time had passed, she was still a traitor. If this gravestone were discovered later, Lorutel might face trouble.
‘However he managed to create the Sword God’s Tomb… it couldn’t have been easy.’
Given that this secret remained undiscovered, there must have been those utterly loyal to Shamid, those who obeyed his orders even after his death. Those who did not succumb to the temptation of the demon sword… Knowing that her dear friend had not lived entirely alone brought Shine some comfort.
After smashing the gravestone to pieces…Shine finally reached for the wooden box that likely contained the demon sword.
Creak!
Perhaps it had corroded with age; the hinges emitted a harsh sound as it opened.
Shine unwrapped the fine cloth that enclosed its contents and raised it to eye level.
A blade of pure white.
The demon sword Proteus. For a moment, Shine admired the form of the demon sword Proteus, then turned her eyes back to Shamid’s gravestone.
“You said, ‘When all new power has been gained, remember that beneath it lies the name Leman,’ didn’t you? Then I…”
She paused, choosing her words carefully.
After a short silence…Her lips parted.
“Yes. As the master of the Sword Garden, I will remember that within the revival of the Sword Garden and the vampire race, there lies Lorutel.”
The vampire race would remember for ages to come.
Shamid von Lorutel.
The faithful knight of unshakable honor.
Ah, but why was she the master of the Sword Garden, again?
‘Because that conniving thing is the master of the Tower, then naturally, I must be a master too, must I not?’
Shine stored the demon sword Proteus back into subspace and turned to leave the Sword God’s Tomb. Or rather, she tried to.
‘…Wait a moment.’
Suddenly, a certain attendant’s words flashed through her mind.
— “Ah, and please remember what I mentioned earlier.”
— “No damage to artifacts, no recording, and do not exceed a day, correct?”
— “Yes.”
Her pupils trembled as she took in the wrecked scene.
“…What should I do?”
Only a brief moment of hesitation.
Then Shine drew out the demon sword Proteus and released ether.
‘The ownership mark isn’t engraved yet, but…’
The sword itself greatly amplified ether, so it would suffice. The moment Shine’s blade sliced through the air…
Swish, slash! Swish, swish…!
Each invisible swing of the demon sword shattered the fragmented stones into powder.
For a long while she continued. When Shine finally stopped, the two stone chambers looked as if they had always been one single space.
“This should… be enough.”
A satisfied smile curved across her lips.
The demon sword of House Leman had at last returned to its master’s hand after countless years.
* * *
Meanwhile, at that same time…
The Iron Hall.
Before departing for Baidun, Hamellan was meeting with the head of the house.
“Did the master of the Tower accept the offer?”
“Yes, he agreed. He seemed hesitant, but the answer just arrived. However… he set a condition.”
“…A condition?”
Muhad’s eyebrow twitched.
A condition?
Lorutel had agreed to protect the Tower and the Sword Garden.
Even if they were to change their stance should the secret of the Celestial Palace be revealed, it was still an act of great generosity toward the Tower and the Sword Garden.
To Muhad, it was nothing short of insolent.
“What did he demand?”
With a sharp tone, Hamellan’s face took on an odd expression.
“This is… a bit peculiar.”
Hamellan recalled his recent conversation with the master of the Tower.
Before they could even send an envoy, the Tower’s master had come in person.
The discussion began with a question.
— “By ‘protection,’ does that mean Lorutel acknowledges us as an ally?”
— “Yes. Likely, the Platinum Medallion will be granted.”
The Platinum Medallion was given only to Lorutel’s allies, among them, a mere handful. Its holder was recognized as an equal ally to Lorutel and could request aid from them at any time.
Of course, whether Lorutel accepted depended on the gravity of the matter, but in emergencies, the bearer could even command Lorutel’s knights. Its worth was beyond any monetary measure.
There were only three Platinum Medallions remaining. Perhaps he hadn’t expected that far.
— “Platinum… Medallion?”
— “Yes.”
The Tower’s master’s eyes sparkled.
Hamellan immediately realized…
‘…Had we mentioned the Platinum Medallion from the start, he wouldn’t have hesitated a moment.’
But the Tower’s master’s shamelessness exceeded all expectations.
— “Then, as a holder of the Platinum Medallion, could we perhaps receive things like secret tomes or such?”
— “…”
— “I mean, not necessarily as part of the Medallion itself, but as a token of friendship, maybe?”
Was he insane?
If any other knight had heard, they would have drawn their sword on the spot. He might as well have asked for the position of head of the house!
Why—
— “Then, um… a knowledge exchange? Something like that? Since we’ll be allies and all, between our Sword Garden and…”
— “We are not a magical household. And even among magical families, such secret techniques are rarely shared.”
— “Hmmm.”
The Tower’s master groaned as though truly disappointed.
As Hamellan recalled this, Muhad’s deep voice pressed into his ears.
“Did he perhaps ask for the seat of patriarch?”
“…No, sir.”
Hamellan shook his head vehemently at even the thought of such sacrilege.
After a short pause, he hesitated. He wanted to tell everything as it happened, but…
‘That would be unwise.’
The young master would be heartbroken. And the Tower’s guests would end up headless by morning.
So he simply summarized.
“He only asked for some useless books later.”
“…Books?”
“Yes, said he’d build a library, or was it the Tower building one? Anyway, he requested that we donate some books later.”
“And?”
Muhad’s eyes gleamed with curiosity at this unexpected turn.
“I refused, of course. Our house has no ‘useless’ books. And we can’t just buy new ones because of the Tower.”
“Hmm.”
The patriarch seemed oddly disappointed, but only for a moment.
Soon, he frowned in confusion.
The Tower’s master simply left after that?
“Ah, he did make one strange suggestion afterward.”
“…Speak.”
“He said, if it’s really any book, then at least make the knights write journals…”
Hamellan glanced at Muhad anxiously.
There was no way the patriarch would accept such a ridiculous proposal, but still, it made him uneasy.
And yet…why?
“…”
Muhad fell silent, seemingly deep in thought.
After a moment…
“Grant permission.”
“…What?”
Hamellan’s eyes widened.
“I must be going deaf in my old age, my lord. Did you just say…?”
He asked again, but the patriarch’s answer did not change.
“I said, grant permission.”
“Why would we…?”
“Self-reflection aids greatly in training. Among those who reached true mastery, none failed to reflect upon themselves.”
Hamellan was speechless.
‘He’s… right.’
Yes, it was a sound argument.
But still…Those journals would be stored in a library!
Imagine it, your personal diary being read by strangers, your private thoughts laid bare for everyone to see. That was pure humiliation!
And yet…
“Then, what shall we name it?”
“…We have to name it too?”
Hamellan asked, but the patriarch pondered silently before finally speaking.
“Yes, since these are writings composed for one’s cultivation, let us name them Records of Reflection.”
“…”
At that moment, Hamellan thought…
‘A plague has struck Lorutel.’
And its name was, the Master of the Tower.
