Chapter 1:
Godsmith Mansion
Side
MY BODY WAS falling apart. My fingertips crumbled like sand, and my regenerative abilities couldn’t help.
“Impossible…”
It was unthinkable. Had Lady Murelia really been defeated…?
And yet my current state proved that someone had destroyed the dungeon core.
“To think it would come to this…”
I’d been tasked to gather Fiends from outside the dungeon, and so I was in the northern part of the Beastman Nation—conquering one company of Fiends after another. Most of them were goblins, but there were wild orcs and minotaurs among them too. I had gathered a force of a thousand strong, and was ready to accomplish my mission by storming the capital…
“So…this is the end…”
Now that my master was gone, nothing I did had any meaning. Even if I conquered the capital, it would all be for naught.
“No…not yet!”
It was true that there was nothing more I could do. I had lost my master and my home, and I was utterly defeated. But did that mean I should let things end this way?
Absolutely not!
“If nothing else…!”
I could make the Beastman Nation suffer! Those animals must be drunk on their victory, pleased that Lady Murelia was dead. The least I could do was give them a wake-up call. Conquering the capital might be a pipe dream now, but I would not be forgotten! I would wreak so much havoc that those hateful animals would have to remember us. And remember Lady Murelia! Their vile blood would water the fields, while their cities swam with terror.
“You will do…”
“Gyaga?”
I stabbed the goblin behind me with my spear.
“Gyaaa…urg…”
The pain would only last a moment. You are receiving my power, Goblin Necromancer. This Fiendstone spear was given to me by Lady Murelia herself, as a token of her trust. You are honored by such power.
The goblin’s skin turned night-black.
“Giii…”
It looked afraid of the rapid changes to its body, but that fear wouldn’t last long either. Soon, the Fiendstone would overwrite whatever ego it had left. It was the price of the Evil One’s power, and quite a cheap one, if I did say so myself.
“Gyaga…gya…gagagagaaaa!”
Good! Cry! For you have been reborn! Now you shall wreak destruction, servant of the Evil One! Destroy that filth!
The Goblin Necromancer grew larger, its tentacles seizing hold of the Fiends around it. They tried to escape, but it was pointless. Ultimately, they were absorbed.
Excellent. Cannibalize your allies. Become stronger! Cry havoc and destruction!
“Kuha ha ha…! Death to the filthy animals!”
***
I was broken and battered after the fierce battle, but Aristea, who claimed to be a Godsmith, had agreed to help. Mea, the princess of the Beastman Nation, vouched for her identity and, if that weren’t enough, Aristea had already performed some emergency maintenance and saved me from the scrapheap.
Now we were on our way to Aristea’s mansion to conduct more thorough repairs. Her golem carriage carried us, along with Urslars, toward her house—to the east of the dungeon where we’d fought Murelia.
“Let’s have a chat, shall we?” Aristea asked, looking at us.
She was the picture of a fair maiden, with her silver hair and red-and-white toga, but her speech had a rough, masculine tone. I’d only just met her and still wasn’t used to the contradiction, but Fran didn’t seem to notice.
“Shouldn’t someone be driving?” Fran asked.
She was, however, concerned about the driver. Or rather, the lack thereof. The golem horses ran without anyone to guide them, and I was quite worried that monsters might attack us.
“It’ll be all right,” said Aristea. “The golems know the route, and the carriage is protected by a powerful barrier that repels monsters.”
Well, if a Godsmith said it would be fine, then we’d have to take her word for it. This carriage was probably equipped with spells and manatech far beyond our reckoning. Besides, Jet was running alongside the carriage, and could take care of any enemies that popped up.
“I would like to talk about Teacher,” said Aristea. “If you don’t mind.”
“Hm…”
Fran nodded, but cast a glance at Urslars. The S-Rank adventurer wielded the Godsword Gaia and was notorious for going berserk and destroying everything in his path. He was currently lying unconscious on the floor, probably because I’d forced him out of his berserk state with Skill Taker.
Still, he could wake up at any time, and things would get more complicated if he overheard this conversation. Aristea seemed to understand, because she took a strange device out of her item pouch. It looked like a brown strip about a meter long.
“This allows anyone who’s touching it to use Telepathy. It is incomplete, and only has a small effective range, but it is very handy for people with secrets to share.”
Aristea scooted over to Fran’s side, and Fran wrapped one end of the strip around my hilt. She and Aristea both reached out to touch it. There was barely enough of it to go around. You had to be in really close quarters to use it.
Well? Aristea asked. Can you hear me?
Hm, said Fran.
I can hear you, I told her carefully.
Ever since the battle, it hurt to use Telepathy. I couldn’t even talk to Fran without straining myself. But despite some initial awkwardness, it wasn’t painful to use this strip. That meant I should be able to hold an actual conversation. I was surprised that it had any effect on my sword body. I guess Aristea really was a Godsmith.
Let me start with Teacher, she said. I would like to know who made you, and when.
All right.
I answered her questions as honestly as I could. After all, I wanted to be fixed, and she might be the only person who could help me, so it didn’t make sense to lie. Besides, she might know something about me that I didn’t.
That said, I had no idea who my maker was, so I couldn’t tell her much. Still, Aristea looked surprised.
I see, she said. You used to be human, I take it?
Uh, you can tell?
I hadn’t even got to that part yet, but she had me figured out. How? Could a Godsmith’s Identify see that I was human?
Kind of, she said. I’ve made artificial souls before, but none that can talk as well as you. The fact that I saw something resembling a soul within you confirms you aren’t man-made.
Much like Jean the necromancer, Aristea possessed a Unique Skill that allowed her to see souls. Apparently, they came in all shapes and sizes, although I had no way of knowing for sure.
You have the soul of a human, she said, watching me closely. And you answered my questions in a very human manner. I assumed you were humanoid, but this makes more sense. Although that raises more questions than it answers.
Like what? I asked.
I don’t know of any technique that can seal a human soul inside a weapon. I am a Godsmith, and yet I couldn’t even begin to guess how you were forged.
I guess that was a pretty reasonable thing to wonder about. Who put me into this sword? Was it the same person who forged me?
I’ll analyze you more thoroughly at my mansion, said Aristea. We might get some answers there. Then we can begin to form a hypothesis. Oh, I can’t wait.
She studied me with the eyes of a craftsman, like a child who’d been given a new toy. It was quite terrifying.
I would like to ask Fran some questions now, she said. Is that all right?
Oh, sure. She definitely remembers everything we’ve been through.
…
Uh, Fran?
“Zzz…”
She must have fallen asleep at some point. She looked so peaceful. I guess she must be exhausted from crying—although she looked fine, she was still reeling from the shock of Kiara’s death. She must’ve been staying up through sheer force of will. When Aristea agreed to repair me, the relief sent her straight off to sleep.
I’ll talk to her another time, said Aristea.
Sorry about that. I’ll answer any questions you might have.
It’s all right. Sleeping is a child’s job. Let’s start from when you two met.
And so, I told her our whole story.
She was shocked to hear how Fran and I met. Although, to be honest, I thought it was a silly coincidence too. I explained how we journeyed together, growing stronger with every town, sea, and dungeon we crossed. Aristea wasn’t as interested in our adventures, but she definitely wanted to know how I grew more powerful. She had a lively curiosity, but also something of a one-track mind.
Eventually, I reached our fight with the Valkyrie. It was here that I began to experience some strange sensations.
Using skills started to hurt, I explained.
A sword can feel pain? Interesting. Does it hurt every time?
No. Usually only when I try to multicast or go crazy with transmogrification.
I wasn’t even sure if I’d classify it as pain. After all, I didn’t have any pain receptors. Still, it was the closest thing to how it felt.
We’ll have to look into what you’re made of, she said. I’ve never seen a sword complain of pain before. Regardless, there is a chance that it is affecting you quite deeply. In the future, try to avoid doing anything that hurts.
All right.
I carried on the conversation through the telepathy strip, talking in Fran’s stead. I told Aristea everything from when we defeated the Fiend army, up to the point when we met her. Then I explained as much as I could about my skills, although I couldn’t quite remember where and when I got them all. Fortunately, I was able to answer her questions.
I explained the sensation I felt when I absorbed a crystal, and the leftover desires I had from when I was still human. I also talked about how different it was to use a skill as a sword rather than a person.
The crystal subject piqued Aristea’s interest, and she asked about their differing values. Did she need to know that to repair me, or was she just satisfying her curiosity? Either way, I explained that the powerful monsters yielded the biggest crystals, while Fiends offered considerably less.
After that, I started explaining my skill leveling. Aristea had never heard of the point system before.
For every answer you give, ten questions spring from it, she said.
I’ll take that as a compliment, Godsmith.
So you should. The Godswords may be more powerful than you, but I’ve never come across a more mysterious weapon.
I’d finally found a legendary blacksmith to examine me. Now, I was just filled with even more questions about who made me, and why.
Two hours later, I’d answered all of Aristea’s questions, and the carriage came to a halt.
“Looks like we’re here,” she said. “My, how the time flies! That was a very productive conversation. Come on, Fran. Wake up!”
“Urgh…”
She shook Fran awake. I expected her to be rough, but she was very gentle with her. I guess she was still a maiden beneath that gruff exterior after all.
“Up and at ’em, Stupid Ogre!”
Or maybe not.
While Fran rubbed her sleepy eyes, Aristea kicked Urslars in the head. Looked like there was no mercy for him! I know the Ogrekin wasn’t injured, but he was still exhausted from going berserk. Besides, a kick to the head always hurt, even if you were a two-meter block of muscle.
Still, Aristea kept going. On the fifth kick or so, Urslars finally woke up.
“Bwuh? Where am I…?”
“Took you long enough.”
“Aristea… Oh, no!” When he saw who he was with, Urslars let out a pathetic yelp. “Wh-why are you here?”
“I sensed the energy of a Godsword. Two of them, in fact. So I came down to investigate. I was worried that the wielders were fighting to the death.”
Godsmiths could sense that kind of mana. If there was a fight, then she’d want to stop it, right?
“If a Godsword was broken, that would be a golden opportunity to repair it!”
Apparently, she just really wanted to work on a Godsword.
“On your feet now!” she said. “Get out of the way!”
“R-right.”
Urslars rolled out of the carriage, and Aristea and Fran followed.
Aristea’s mansion stood amongst the trees, looking somewhat out of place. It was made from stone, but there wasn’t a single seam in its four walls. The façade was completely unblemished, polished to a mirror sheen. Each wall was a twenty-five-meter-long white marble slab, arranged to form a box. Even the roof was made from it.
The only sign that it was a house at all were the small, regular windows. Without those, I would have assumed it was an abandoned ruin, or some kind of magical catalyst. From the two rows of windows, I assumed it had two stories.
“So,” said Aristea. “Quite a mansion, isn’t it?”
“It’s as huge as it is horribly bright,” said Urslars. “I still can’t believe you figured out a way to make it move.”
Apparently, it had manatech that made it capable of movement. A fitting abode for a Godsmith.
“Hmph. This house is perfectly proportioned,” said Aristea, glaring at him. “Unlike your body, which is too large for your head.”
“Ugh…”
Looked like she didn’t appreciate his comments about her house. Urslars flinched, but didn’t press the issue. He seemed pretty uncomfortable around her. Did they have some kind of history?
“Over here.”
The Godsmith stowed the carriage in her item pouch and guided us in. The mansion was even more fantastical inside.
“Welcome to my atelier.”
We walked into the mansion and immediately found ourselves in a workshop. For all I knew, the whole place was one giant workroom. Although I couldn’t tell which room served what purpose at first glance.
The walls gleamed like polished silverware. It wasn’t magic—they were plated with some kind of metal, brilliantly reflecting the light coming from the bulb on the ceiling.
Four bed-sized slates sat in the center of the room, and all of them seemed to be made of the same metal as the walls. They were reminiscent of the tables in a laboratory, with ample space between each one. And that was really all there was. There wasn’t even any other furniture or cleaning equipment. Although, when I took a closer look at the walls, I noticed a neat line of drawers. They were hard to spot in the reflection coming off the metal, and almost looked like an optical illusion.
“Wow.”
Fran squinted against the light, admiring the walls and the ceiling.
“They’re plated with mithril,” Aristea explained. “Excellent for blocking mana, and necessary when I work on mana-sensitive projects.”
“Mithril?” Fran asked. “All of it?”
“Yep.”
It was unusual to see Fran so surprised. Even if the walls were just plated, that was still a lot of mithril. I guess the Godsmith had a godly budget.
“You won’t last long around here if you don’t get used to seeing shocking things,” said Urslars.
“Shut up, you dumb Ogre. Go upstairs. You know where the guest room is, and I have something important to discuss with Fran.”
“All right,” Urslars agreed. “Although I hope that someone will explain what happened back there at some point.”
“How much do you remember?” Fran asked.
Urslars scratched his chin, dredging his memories.
“Let’s see… The princess told me that you pulled me out of Mad Ogre by taking the skill away. I passed out immediately. The next thing I knew, I was in Aristea’s carriage. I remember something about fighting off that Fiend bastard, but…”
Mea really had skimped on the details of what happened after he came out of Mad Ogre Form. He must have lost consciousness soon after I started fighting Theraclede.
“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” he said, bowing his head deeply. “Thank you for taking that godforsaken skill away from me.”
He sounded deeply grateful, from the bottom of his heart.
“But you said it will come back?” Fran asked.
Urslars was a Dark Ogre. Even if we used Skill Taker, it would come back. Class Skills were carved into your soul. At best, he had a few days of reprieve.
“Even so,” he said. “It’s nice not to be afraid of myself for once. I owe you, big time.”
“If I hadn’t done it,” Fran said. “Things would have been worse.”
“Yes, I should thank you for stopping me from killing the princess. And Kiara. I’ll have to apologize to them when we next meet.”
“…”
Of course. Urslars didn’t know Kiara was dead. And Fran couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She frowned and turned away.
“…”
“What?”
“Off with you, you dumb ogre…! I’ll tell you about Kiara’s final moments later.”
Urslars looked crestfallen as the reality of what had happened sank in. I couldn’t let him blame himself.
It wasn’t your fault.
“Who’s there…?”
I wanted to tell him the details, but I was pushing the limits of my Telepathy. Still, I needed him to know that his rampage hadn’t caused Kiara’s death. I didn’t know whether they were close, but they seemed to have known each other for a long time.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” said Aristea. “But you didn’t kill her. The battle with the Fiend proved too much, that’s all.”
“I see…” said Urslars. “All right. I’ll borrow your guest room, then.”
“You know where the kitchen is if you’re hungry. The golems will cook something up for you.”
“Thanks.”
But he still looked sad as he climbed the stairs to the living quarters. Aristea even looked a little worried about him, but only for a moment. Then she turned around and gave Fran a serious look.
“Now we can begin Teacher’s restoration. I don’t like leaving him this way.”
“Hm,” said Fran. “Go ahead.”
Thanks again.
“Don’t try to talk, Teacher.” She turned to Fran. “First, we’ll fix up his blade. I don’t know how simple the restoration will be, so I’ll need to take some samples for analysis. Then I’ll try to repair him using as few materials as possible and placing the least amount of strain on him. Understood?”
“???”
Nope, Fran didn’t catch a lick of that. Saying that Aristea was more knowledgeable about weapon crafting that both of us combined was a massive understatement. All we could do was let her take care of me as best she could.
I’m in your…hurk!
“Keep the telepathy strip on. If you groan every time you talk, you’ll break my concentration.”
Aristea tied the telepathy strip back onto me. She and Fran would have to keep touching it to talk to me, but it made conversation a lot easier.
“Fran, place Teacher on the workbench.”
“Hm.”
“Now I can begin analysis. There’s food if you’re hungry, Fran.”
“I’m fine. I wanna watch.”
“Have it your way.”
And so, Aristea began her analysis. She used a lot of skills, spells, and manatech as I lay on the mithril-plated workbench. There was a drawer in the bench for her tools and equipment.
The room looked simple upon first glance, but these little props made it the perfect atelier. Her other tools must be stored in a similar way. Most of them were for identification and analysis, and I was impressed by her ability to process the information she gained. All the same, to an outside observer, she just looked like she was holding a mirror up to a broken sword. Hardly impressive.
This kind of thing normally left Fran bored right away, but even twenty minutes later, she was still intently watching Aristea’s work. She must be tired, but she was never restless. I guess she was really worried about me. I didn’t want her to worry, but I was happy at how much she loved me.
An hour later, Aristea had finally finished her preliminary examination. She wiped a bead of sweat from her chin.
“I knew it. You’re made of orichalcos.”
“Orichalcos?” Fran asked.
“It’s a metal only Godsmiths can create. It looks like harmorium to the untrained eye, but it is called the divine metal for a reason: it’s the stuff Godswords are made of.”
Divine metal? That sounded great!
S-so I’m made out of that?
“That’s right,” Aristea confirmed.
“So, was Teacher made by a Godsmith?”
Hang on, I said instinctively. Maybe an ordinary blacksmith forged me from a Godsmith’s orichalcos.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Maybe I was made by a Godsmith, but if I wasn’t, I didn’t want to be that disappointed.
But Aristea shook her head. “No. Only a Godsmith can forge orichalcos to its full potential. If nothing else, a Godsmith forged your exterior.”
Really? So does that make me…
A Godsword? Maybe that was what was sealed inside me—
“A Godsword?” she asked. “No. You don’t have a name.”
I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. After all, Godsmiths forged more than just Godswords.
Does that mean I’m a Godsmith-made, mass-produced weapon? I asked.
I felt happy and sad at the same time. It was weird. I mean, any throwaway weapon forged by a Godsmith would have far more potential than the life’s work of an ordinary smith. But I couldn’t help but feel that the latter had more value.
Nameless…
“Hold on,” said Aristea. “It’s true that you don’t have a name now, but that might not always have been the case.”
What do you mean? I asked.
“Your name might have been erased.”
“Erased?” Fran asked.
You mean I started with a name, but it got deleted at some point?
“Correct. I might even have a lead on your origins.”
It sounded like she’d figured something out. If nothing else, she had a hunch.
“I can’t be sure about it, of course…”
“What do you mean?” said Fran.
“Hang on. Swordcrafting Truth.”
Aristea closed her eyes and focused to activate the skill. A transparent screen appeared in front of her, covered with pictures and words.
“What’s that?”
“Swordcrafting Truth,” Aristea explained. “The Godsmiths’ Class Skill. It’s like an encyclopedia of Godswords, and everything related to them. Godsmiths can access this knowledge at all times, but this is how we reveal it to others.”
So, it was a Knowledge Skill for sharing information. It was a pretty high-tech encyclopedia. The holographic screen looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie rather than a world of magic.
“Not everyone can decipher the information, of course,” said Aristea. “Anyway, how about it? Would you like to see?”
I mean, I couldn’t really help it, since it was right in front of me…
Wait, what?
“I can’t read it.”
It didn’t even look like a cipher, more like a jumbled mess. Aristea didn’t look surprised. Instead, she nodded calmly.
“I knew it. What about the image?”
I see a sword.
The text might be scrambled, but there was nothing wrong with the picture. And the sword on the screen looked kind of familiar…
“Hm,” said Fran. “It looks a bit like you.”
Really? Now that you mention it…
Once Fran had pointed it out, I noticed the resemblance. It really did look like me. The blade and hilt were identical, although the emblem was completely different.
“No problems with the image, then,” said Aristea.
That must be the part she wanted us to see. She didn’t seem to have any problem with the words. Did they only look scrambled to unworthy eyes?
Are you saying this sword has something to do with me? I asked.
“Yes. Fran’s right. The resemblance is too close.”
She went through it a step at a time. First, the hilt was the same size and shape, and the strip hanging from the pommel was the exact same length and color. There’s no way someone would bother replicating that kind of detail if I was just inspired by this sword. The blade was the same too, right down to the blue pattern running down it. And it was the same length.
The main difference was the pommel: mine bore an emblem of a wolf, but this sword had four humanoid faces. The maidens had their eyes closed and were surrounded by four pairs of angelic wings.
That’s the only thing that’s different…
“Indeed. It’ll take too long to explain, so I’ll talk as I repair you. Wait just a minute.”
Aristea took a metal sphere from her item pouch. It was about the size of a basketball, and when she said an incantation over it, it started to change shape—weaving into fine threads until it looked like metallic cotton candy. Aristea pressed it against me, and the puff of woven metal wrapped around me, as though it had a will of its own. Next, she poured a gratuitous amount of a mulberry-colored potion over me. I had no idea what it was, and its suspicious shade made me worry a little, but I trusted her enough not to complain.
As she recited some more incantations, I felt mana flow through the metal fluff until my whole body was warm. Like being wrapped up in a blanket. It was a strange sensation, but not unwelcome. Godsmiths really were amazing!
“All right,” said Aristea. “I’m infusing you with orichalcos. Your self-repair capabilities should resume soon.”
So, this is orichalcos?
“That’s right. I used my abilities to turn it into threads.”
That’s a lot of legendary material you’re putting into me.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I can easily make more.”
“Thanks,” said Fran.
“All part of my job. Anyway, back to what we were talking about earlier.”
She dragged some steel chairs from a corner of the workshop, sat down on one, and offered the other to Fran.
“As far as I can tell,” said Aristea. “You’ve been worked on by multiple people.”
You’re saying that I have more than one maker?
“Kind of. I think your blade and your interior were made by different people.”
“Interior?” Fran asked.
“I mean his soul. Infusing a weapon with a human soul, and giving it the ability to consume crystals, is not metallurgy. It’s a completely different craft. We should assume that Teacher was made by two different people.”
“Okay.”
Sure.
As shocking as it sounded, I wasn’t too surprised. I didn’t know anything about myself, so the possibility of being crafted by multiple people was interesting, but nothing more. I guess it was like finding out I had multiple sets of parents.
Now that we were on the same page, Aristea showed the picture to Fran.
“This is the Wisdom Sword Cherubim, one of the lost Godswords.”
“Cherubim?” Fran asked.
So, I look like a Godsword?
Now that was interesting! It meant a lot more now I’d seen a Godsword up close. They were the most powerful weapons in the world, and I looked like one of them.
“How did that happen?” said Fran.
“There are a few possibilities,” said Aristea. “For example, Teacher could be a discarded Godsword.”
Discarded Godsword? Never heard that.
“I don’t know either,” said Fran.
“I suppose the subject isn’t common knowledge,” said Aristea. “Let’s start there. They are exactly what they sound like. Any Godsword that can’t be destroyed is discarded. There are three main reasons why that might happen.
“One: it could be damaged beyond repair. Unfortunately, at that point, a Godsword must be discarded.”
Is that even possible for a Godsword?
“There are beings of tremendous power in this world,” said Aristea. “Like the Evil One and the Godbeasts. Even a Godsword cannot defeat such things.”
A weapon commissioned by the gods could still lose to the gods themselves. They were powerful, but not indestructible.
“Two: the forging process may have been faulty. Even at only half power, a faulty Godsword would still be very powerful. It’s also likely that it would lose control if it was ever wielded.”
These weapons weren’t quite Godswords. It seemed like a waste to dispose of them, but they could cause so much destruction that it wasn’t worth the risk—like a superweapon that could randomly blow up.
“Three: the Godsword is considered too powerful, and the order is given to destroy it.”
“Ordered?” Fran asked. “By who?”
“The gods. So far, there have been three Godswords to get the axe. They were far too dangerous, and the Godsmiths discarded them without ever demonstrating their full power.”
A Godsword that even the gods considered too powerful? That must be something else.
“Our Godswords are like children to us. It would have hurt those Godsmiths to discard them…” Aristea frowned. “But it can’t be helped. We cannot create weapons so powerful that they might destroy the world. That’s why we do our best to maintain the existing Godswords. They’re the only ones to escape destruction.”
Was that why she took a liking to us? She sounded like a huge sword nerd.
“So, what were the three swords?” Fran asked.
“One of them was the Nuclear Sword Meltdown. Its details aren’t listed in Swordcrafting Truth, but it was a powerful weapon, and capable of emitting deadly poison. It could turn the world into a desolate wasteland with ease if left alone. So it was quickly discarded.”
Powerful and poisonous…it sounded like radiation. With a name like Meltdown, that’s probably exactly what it was. We didn’t know the extent of its power, but it could probably do lasting damage to the environment after only a couple of battles. No wonder the gods wanted to be rid of it.
“There was also the Sentence Sword Judgment. It could emulate the judgment of the gods. Ultimately, the gods saw that it could twist the foundations of the world, so they discarded it.”
I couldn’t even imagine that one. I guess any weapon that could enact the justice of the gods, without their mercy, was too dangerous to exist.
“And then there was the Wisdom Sword Cherubim. It contained all the knowledge of the Sanctuary and was even able to interfere with it. However, it became apparent that humans could use it to view whatever knowledge they pleased, even if it wasn’t for human eyes.”
I guess the gods didn’t want dangerous knowledge spreading through this world. Like the knowledge of nuclear fusion, for example. But what did that sword have to do with me? I was starting to feel afraid.
“Do you understand why Godswords are discarded now?” Aristea asked.
“For the most part.”
Yeah.
“Now,” she said. “Regarding your connection with Cherubim.”
Finally! I was getting tense.
“Of course, this is just my theory. But, if you were going to discard a Godsword, how would you go about it?”
“Hm. Throw it away?” said Fran.
That won’t work. If they’re too dangerous to exist, then I guess you just melt them down and make ingots out of them…
A chill ran down my spine. I didn’t want to think about being melted down. It was a brutal way to go for a human, but even more horrifying now that I was a sword.
“True,” said Aristea. “You could smelt it back into lumps of orichalcos, but isn’t that a bit of a waste?”
Now that you mention it…
Forging a Godsword must require tremendous time and effort. Destroying it would be a huge loss, even if you could recover the materials. I sure couldn’t do it. If I were a Godsmith, I’d do all I could to reuse it in a different way.
“Exactly,” said Aristea. “As flawed as a discarded Godsword might be, they are still excellent swords. So, they took away a portion of its problematic abilities and reforged the exterior.”
So, that’s how I was made?
“Maybe,” she said. “It’s just a hunch. A Godsword that’s lost its abilities still has far more potential than a run-of-the-mill enchanted sword. The vessel is of far higher quality, and imbuing it with a new ability is simple enough.”
But why was my emblem different? My wolf looked nothing like the angels in the picture.
“That is a simple cosmetic matter,” she said. “It would make sense to give a new sword a new look, would it not?”
“Hm. True,” said Fran.
“Either way, it’s just a hypothesis. It’s also possible that Teacher is a failure crafted before the forging of Cherubim. He might be a kind of brother-sword to Cherubim, or a failed prototype.”
“Teacher isn’t a failure,” Fran said immediately.
What a good girl!
Thanks, Fran.
“Teacher is a great sword.”
“Sorry,” said Aristea. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Hm.”
“The only thing I can say for sure is that he is linked to Cherubim somehow. He may even share some abilities with it.”
Cherubim’s powers…
All this talk about my potential predecessor made me think of the other existence inside me: the P.A.
I could still hear her mechanical voice when I leveled up, but we couldn’t hold a conversation anymore. It happened when I used Unleash Potential for the first time, in the battle with the Lich. I remembered the P.A.’s voice, and how much it sounded like a farewell.
I thank you, Specimen Teacher. The gods did not suffer me to exist, and the craftsman deleted my name. Though I was only to live as a vessel, I was glad I could serve you, my master, if only during my last moments. May the God of Wisdom guide you.
It sounded a lot like what Aristea was saying. In fact, the P.A. even mentioned Sanctuary when I was under Unleashed Potential.
Attempting access to Sanctuary. Success. Accessing Library. Received information on Heavensight in exchange for losing access privileges. Constructing Heavensight-->
I was pretty sure that’s what she said. It sounded like she was accessing the knowledge base of Sanctuary and interfering with it, just like Cherubim. I needed to tell Aristea about the P.A.
“Interesting,” she said, after I’d explained. “Perhaps that was the last vestiges of Cherubim. If that is the case, then I would say it’s very likely that’s how you were made.”
I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before too.
The mysterious voice. The one I heard when I first Awakened. It had advised me on numerous occasions, but I still didn’t know who it was.
That voice said that the P.A. was “A remnant of an existence long gone. Unleash Potential just happened to bring that personality forth again. Even that remnant is gone now, taken as the price for going over your limits.”
That voice was as mysterious as the P.A. It wasn’t hostile. In fact, it was quite friendly, but I had no way of finding out who it was. Still, there was a chance that I could learn more about it.
Actually, there’s another voice inside of me, besides the P.A. This one’s more of a person.
“Really? What is it like?”
Hmm…
How could I explain that there was this rough-looking man inside me? He said that his power would recover during the Festival of the Moons, but our conversation kept getting interrupted. Still, he knew more about me than I knew about myself.
“That’s not much to go on,” said Aristea.
I don’t really know his name, or what he looks like. Wait, I guess I saw him once.
He appeared to me that night in Bulbola. I had recently used Unleash Potential, and it had taken a huge toll on him. He could only speak through gestures.
A middle-aged man. Silver hair, slicked back. He wore some kind of flowing robe.
“Doesn’t ring any bells,” she said.
No, I suppose not.
There were probably plenty of silver-haired men in this world. His physical description wasn’t enough to go on.
Let me think… Right! Apparently, he’s watching over something that’s sealed inside me.
“A seal?” Aristea asked.
So, this was back in Seedrun…
The seal was weakened by Soul Drain, and I started emitting some kind of black mana. The voice told me that he was doing all he could to hold it back and eventually managed to reestablish the seal inside of me.
“I see,” she said. “Sounds like a close call. I’ll keep that in mind when I conduct internal analysis. After we fix your blade, of course.”
If I could just talk with that man again, everything might come to light. I hoped Aristea could help me achieve that.
“I’ll try to establish contact with that man again,” she said.
You can do that?!
I almost couldn’t believe her. Was there anything these Godsmiths couldn’t do?!
“Hold on. I don’t know for certain that I can do it, but I can try. You should temper your expectations.”
As long as you take a shot at it.
“I’ll do my best.”
As for any other useful bits of information…uh, I’m a servant of the God of Chaos. Does that help?
“The God of Chaos? Not the God of Wisdom?”
Yeah.
“I see… A Godsword possesses the power of the gods, as you might expect. Normally, the god associated with it does the imbuing. Cherubim was the servant of the God of Wisdom, but you’re telling me that you serve the God of Chaos… Very interesting. I’ll look into it.”
At least that seemed useful. Was there anything else I could tell her?
Oh, do you happen to know anything about the place where I was found?
“The Demon Wolf’s Garden?” she asked. “No. I could only tell you more if I inspected your altar in person.”
I see.
“I’ve never been there,” said Aristea. “I’ve traversed each continent in the last hundred years, but the Garden has escaped me so far.”
“A hundred years?” Fran asked.
What? How old are you?
That was more interesting to me than all the places she’d travelled. Aristea looked human, but if she appeared this young when she was over a hundred years old, then she must be one of the longer-lived races.
“I’m a half elf,” she said.
A half elf?
“But your ears. Amanda’s were pointy.”
Fran was right. The A-Rank whip master Amanda was also a half elf, and her ears were elven in shape. Aristea’s ears looked human.
“Oh, so I take it you have some half elf acquaintances?”
“Hm.”
“I suppose my father’s blood is stronger in me,” she said. “He’s my human parent. I take after him.”
I guess half elves didn’t have to look like elves.
“Although I owe my extended lifespan to my work, as well as to my race.”
Your work affects your lifespan?
“My Class Skill affects it. Prime Physique. As its name implies, it keeps my body in its prime, thereby extending my lifespan.”
How was a skill that kept you young the Class Skill of a blacksmith? I suppose blacksmiths did need their bodies to be in prime condition for their work. And Aristea’s skeletomuscular system wasn’t the only thing that was enhanced.
For starters, she didn’t seem the type to fuss about her skin or hair. I doubted that she did anything with them, which meant that the lifeforce from her skill must spill over and maintain their beauty. By the sound of it, Prime Physique wasn’t her only Class Skill either. I wouldn’t be surprised if Godsmiths had access to several of them.
“But enough about me,” she said. “Your exterior is all fixed up. The interior is next.”
That sounded pretty scary.
Wh-what are you going to do? Will you take me apart?
“Only as a last resort. What’s wrong? Are you afraid?”
Of course I am! It’s like getting surgery… I can’t help but worry.
“Really? How interesting.”
That doesn’t make me feel any better.
“Ah, apologies. This is my first time talking to a sentient sword,” said Aristea. “Everything you say is of great interest to me.”
Aristea’s eyes glistened with curiosity. Was this how a vet would behave if animals could talk?
S-seriously, though, don’t take me apart unless you absolutely have to.
“Do not worry,” she said. “You’re in the hands of a Godsmith. That said, the analysis and repairs will take quite some time. I hope you’re ready.”
I am.
“What about you, Fran? You are welcome to watch, but there really is nothing you can do.”
“I’ll stay,” Fran said, still adamant, even if there was nothing she could do.
“Woof!”
Jet came out of the shadows and barked at Aristea. She must have realized that there was no changing their minds.
She shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”
Then she took a deep breath and turned her attention to me.
“We shall begin. All you need to do is sit still, Teacher.”
Got it.
“Hee hee.”
What?
“I never thought I’d have to ask a sword to stay still during a restoration.”
She might laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but she turned serious as soon as she laid her hands over me.
“Parsesight…!”
She inspected me, her eyes saturated with mana. It was the same Identification Skill she’d used when we first met, but this time she looked more intense.
“…”
“…”
No one spoke. Aristea’s focus was palpable, and Fran and Jet did their best not to break it. All of them looked tense. The only thing I could hear in the chrome-lit room was the sound of their breathing.
“…”
“…”
“……”
“……”
Beads of sweat rolled down Aristea’s chin. How long had it been? It felt like she had been concentrating forever. I could only imagine how much energy it took. Meanwhile, Fran watched her work intently.
“Phew.”
Aristea sighed. It was over, and she looked exhausted.
You’re done? I asked.
“To a degree. Sorry about that.”
Why was she apologizing?
A-am I a lost cause?
“No,” she said. “Don’t worry. I can fix you, that much is certain.”
Man, don’t scare me like that!
“I apologize for taking so much time, but even then, I was not able to finish analyzing you.”
Oh, I see. But you must have figured something out.
“You could say that. I certainly have enough information to fix you.”
That sounded good. I mean, I did want to know more about myself, but restoration came first. I’m glad that’s all it was. She had me worried for a second.
“I’ll share my findings as I carry out your restoration,” said Aristea.
That would be great, thank you.
She placed several flasks of magical fluid beside me and started mixing them—showing her skill as an alchemist as well as a smith. As she swirled the flasks, the compounds reacted with each other, emitting powerful mana.
“I’m going to apply this solution. Don’t be alarmed if you feel any changes.”
All right.
She carefully spread the solution over my blade, and I felt something welling up inside me. It wasn’t like the dark and violent impulse that Mad Ogre gave me; this was warm and gentle. It spread out all over my body.
“That should repair your mana circuits. How do you feel?”
It’s nice. Like I just stepped into a warm bath.
“What an interesting way of putting it. You really were human once,” she said with a grin. “Your comments may seem unremarkable, but I might be the first person ever to hear how restoration feels for the sword!”
She must feel like the first person to climb Mt. Everest.
“Is Teacher fixed now?” Fran asked, noticing the expectation in her eyes.
“Not yet. This solution will patch up any large fractures in his mana circuits, but it won’t fix the smaller cracks and deeper breaks. This is the most difficult thing I’ve done since crafting a Godsword! I can’t wait!”
Whatever she needed to do, it sounded like it would involve a lot of fine work. It was nice to see her so motivated, but I started to get the feeling that this would take a lot of time.
It was also surprising to hear that she had a Godsword under her belt, although I suppose that’s what Godsmiths did. Still, it was good to know I was in the hands of such an amazing smith.
However, Fran seemed disappointed to find out that I wasn’t fixed yet. She sat back down.
“Oh.”
“No need to be sad,” said Aristea. “It’s going to take time, but Teacher will be back to normal by the end.”
“Really?”
“I’d bet my Godsword on it!”
I guess that was her way of giving her guarantee…but would she really give us a Godsword if she couldn’t fix me? Honestly, that might be a better deal for Fran…
“You can keep your Godsword,” Fran said. “Just get Teacher back to normal.”
Fran!
She was such a good daughter!
“It was a figure of speech,” said Aristea. “Don’t worry, I’ll get him back to normal. As for what his new normal will look like, well…”
What?
“Nothing,” she said. “Just talking to myself. I’ll make a full restoration.”
Okay…
“The fluid will take a while to fix you up. In the meantime, I’ll tell you about my findings.”
“Hm!”
Thanks.
I still wanted to find out more about myself while I had the chance. If we had some time before she could work on me again, we might as well use it.
“You should be able to use your own Telepathy now, Teacher.”
Really?
Testing, one, two. Fran, can you hear me?
“Hm! Yeah!”
It worked! And it didn’t hurt! There was a bit of lag in activating it, but it didn’t otherwise hinder our conversation.
“You said you had two entities inside of you,” said Aristea.
Yeah, the P.A. and the mysterious voice.
“We’ll start with the P.A.”
Sure.
“Hm,” said Fran.
She’d never talked to the P.A., so she wasn’t particularly enthusiastic, but she still wanted to learn more about me and listened attentively. It made me feel so loved. Like I was sick, and I had my family here to care for me.
“The P.A. is heavily damaged,” Aristea reported. “She exists inside a joint deep within the sword. You see, your interior spreads out like nerves throughout the whole of the sword. This P.A. is…was…a specialist in processing information to help its master—that would be you, Teacher.”
She still tells me when I level up. Always has, actually.
There wasn’t much of a difference in how she behaved before and after the Unleash Potential incident. Then again, I was only scratching the surface.
“Well,” said Aristea. “She’s also meant to assist you in activating your skills and in making calculations.”
She’s supposed to help me whenever I use my skills and spells?
“That’s right. But, before you could enjoy those benefits, she was heavily damaged. Her functions would have become more important the stronger you became.”
According to Aristea, the P.A. was there for the day I got stronger. If I still had her around, maybe it wouldn’t have hurt when I pushed myself. Either way, she certainly warned me when I was approaching my limits. If it wasn’t for her sacrifice, the Lich would’ve killed us on the sky isle.
So, can you fix her?
That was the most pressing question on my mind. But Aristea shook her head.
“Unfortunately, no. It’s a miracle that the vestiges of Cherubim survived as long as they did. Now, she’s broken beyond all repair.”
If Aristea said she couldn’t fix it, then no one could.
I see…
“The best I can do is reinforce the vestiges of her, so things don’t get worse.”
Thanks, I appreciate it.
The P.A. taught me a lot when I was just starting out. She gave me knowledge and made for decent company. If there was something we could do to make sure that she didn’t fade away entirely, that was good enough for me.
I leave her in your hands.
“You got it.”
Aristea nodded seriously and sent mana through my blade. This time, an even more comfortable warmth surrounded me. I could even feel it emanating from inside. It really did feel like a warm bath.
As Aristea worked, Jet, Fran, and I watched quietly. After all, the last thing we wanted to do was disturb her.
“That’s most of it done,” Aristea said sometime later. “Provided the P.A. doesn’t push herself, she shouldn’t break down any further.”
Really? Thanks! That’s great.
Fran and Jet looked relieved too.
“Hm. Great.”
“Woof!”
“So,” Aristea said, still sending mana through my body. “About the mysterious voice.”
Did you figure something out? I asked.
Perhaps she’d been able to pinpoint the voice. Maybe she could even summon it!
“I did discover something,” she said. “But even less than I was able to find out about the last vestiges of Cherubim.”
Uh-huh.
“There is another soul deep within the sword. Currently, it is in a weakened state.”
The voice wasn’t a legacy feature of a discarded Godsword. It sounded like he was something sealed inside the sword—like me.
“Your ability to absorb crystals probably belongs to this soul,” said Aristea.
So, he could absorb magic and skills from crystals while he was still alive and walking around? But then, why can I use his powers? And what’s he doing inside a sword to begin with?
“And there’s the complicated part,” she said. “Teacher, you are far stranger and more complex than you think.”
Uh, what? Complex and strange…? I didn’t like the sound of that, but it was too late to back out now. I might be a sword, but a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!
Tell me.
“First, I would like to see you absorb a crystal. Can you do that?”
I guess it might help her figure out what was going on.
“Here,” said Fran.
“What do you do with the crystal?” Aristea asked.
“You cut it against him.”
“I see.”
Fran gave her a crystal and, when Aristea followed her instructions, I began to absorb it. Smooth as clockwork. The crystal was weak, and rather unsatisfying, but I absorbed it all the same.
Well? I asked.
“I see. That was an interesting mana current. And it looks like my analysis was correct. You do not gain power directly from consuming crystals.”
What? How can that be?
“The mana doesn’t flow straight to you. It goes to this other soul.”
Aristea explained the process. When I absorbed a crystal, this other soul gained its power. The soul was quite damaged, and his existence alone was quite unusual. Aristea posited that perhaps he’d been sealed within a Godsword to maintain his existence. Either way, the power I got from crystals was something shared with me by that soul.
“This soul is probably the owner of the mysterious voice,” said Aristea. “And he is no ordinary soul. He is so powerful that I can’t analyze him.”
Any idea who it is?
“No. But he doesn’t seem malicious. In fact, he seems willing to cooperate with you.”
He’d seemed friendly enough when I met him, so it was nice to know that Aristea agreed. He wasn’t my enemy. The complicated part was my evolution system. Apparently, something else was handling that part of me.
Are you saying that there’s another thing inside of me…? As if having an extra soul isn’t weird enough!
“I know it sounds strange, but it’s the best way I can describe it.”
The vestiges of Cherubim and the mysterious soul were working together, but apparently, there was a third thing. It didn’t have a will or a soul, so Aristea assumed it was some kind of program run by internal manatech.
“I don’t know who made it, or how, but its mechanisms are clear enough. That said, it’s extremely advanced, and I couldn’t analyze it completely.”
Too advanced even for Aristea the Godsmith?
“To be clear,” she said, “whoever made this system is a beast. They’re the Godsmith equivalent of a manatechnician and alchemist, and I’m not sure if such classes even exist. In any case, I am a blacksmith. As such, I’m ill-equipped to deal with it.”
W-wow.
“The closest thing I can compare it to is a dungeon core,” she said with a wry smile. “It is a creation of such complexity and intricacy that I can only feel defeated.”
Anything that could make a Godsmith like her feel defeated must be astonishing. Even just thinking about the powers this thing possessed was exciting.
All right, so what does this mysterious system do?
“You see—”
The system was created, first and foremost, to manage the mysterious soul. It existed between me and the soul and allowed him to transfer powers to me. Of course, that was only possible because he was kind enough to share them. The soul possessed such great power that I couldn’t possibly use it all.
The same thing applied to skill acquisition. The soul could gain skills from crystals, but it was difficult for me to use them. After all, he might be sealed within me, but we were still separate people. That’s where this mysterious system came in: when the soul acquired skills, the system converted them into a form I could use. That was also the foundation of the Skill Sharing I did with Fran. This system allowed me to use the mysterious soul’s powers, and it was even involved in my rank-ups and EP.
“But I have no idea why you have a crystal counter,” said Aristea. “The system could enhance your powers without it.”
I could get stronger just by absorbing crystals?
Now that she mentioned it, that did make sense.
“Something like that,” she said. “So, why do you need these arbitrary crystal requirements?”
Maybe it’s so I’ll take things one step at a time? Perhaps it would put the sword under too much pressure if I got too strong too quickly.
“Perhaps. All I can say is that the system reflects its maker’s eccentricity and playfulness.”
“You can tell that?”
“That’s the impression I got from analyzing it,” she said. “I can imagine this whole system being implemented on a whim.”
“On a whim…” said Fran.
If that really was the case, then whoever made me must have huffed too many Godsword fumes.
“Oh,” said Aristea. “One more thing. You mentioned that you don’t get many crystals from powerful Fiends. I think that’s because this other soul can’t absorb their Malice.”
If a crystal was too heavily infected, the soul couldn’t use it to heal himself. The same thing probably applied for Fiendmancy—no matter how many Fiend crystals I consumed, I could never acquire it. It also explained why weaker Fiends still yielded a decent number of crystals, as they were still powered by regular mana as well as Malice.
It’s all so complicated. I need to think about this.
First off, there are three entities inside me: the vestiges of Cherubim that formed the P.A., the mystery soul, and now this strange system.
The P.A. was responsible for sorting through outside information, so now that I thought about it, I probably owed my sense of sight and touch to her.
You really are a big help, and I hope you’re conscious enough to hear me say that. Thank you.
She also had telepathic abilities, which made her something of a personal assistant. A personal assistant with the voice of a public announcement system. Heh.
The only thing Aristea knew about the mystery soul was that he was sealed inside me. He seemed to be heavily damaged and was absorbing crystals to heal himself. After absorbing what he needed, he passed the leftover energy on to me. That might mean that the satisfaction I felt when I absorbed a crystal was actually his…
Which meant I wasn’t the one who loved eating crystals! This strange fetish belonged to him! He was the reason why I couldn’t help moaning in pleasure every time I cracked into one of them!
Meanwhile, the system converted the energy he absorbed into a form I could use. Without it, I would probably have been destroyed by the soul’s excess energy, which was a frightening thought. The system also governed my use of EP.
We didn’t know who had made it, but they definitely had a sick playful side.
The more we find out, the more curious I am about my maker.
“From my analysis, at least four people have worked on you. One of them is definitely Elmera, Cherubim’s Godsmith.”
Elmera…
Considering the fact that Aristea had only done a material analysis, that was a pretty big piece of information. If we could track down Elmera, maybe we’d discover even more.
“As for the mystery soul,” said Aristea, “it’s probably more like a monster than a human. Still, it must have agreed to be sealed within you and have such an elaborate system built around it.”
So, this monster cooperated with my maker?
“There are monsters wiser than humans,” she said. “Like Godbeasts, for example. Their powers far transcend ours. Perhaps something happened, and he chose to be sealed inside you.”
I was convinced that the soul was human. The way he pretended to apologize when he appeared to me in Bulbola was so comically human. But then, I suppose Jet seemed human sometimes too. Maybe all higher monsters were like that.
“Which leaves the unknown system,” said Aristea. “Elmera and I are both Godsmiths, so I can tell for sure that it isn’t her work.”
Well, then, I guess it must be someone else. One of Elmera’s collaborators must have constructed it. But if they could create a system beyond the skills of a Godsmith, it was hard to imagine what kind of expertise they had.
So many people had been involved in my creation: Cherubim’s Godsmith, the mysterious soul, the architect of this unknown system…and then there was whoever had brought me to this world. The small matter of my own soul.
What about me? Who sealed me in here?
“Yes,” said Aristea. “You’re the biggest mystery of them all, Teacher. I don’t know who forged you into this blade. I can say that it certainly wasn’t Elmera. And, considering how damaged the mystery soul is, I don’t think it was him either.”
What about the system architect?
“That is a possibility. However…”
What is it?
“This is only my gut instinct as a Godsmith, but…there’s a difference in the work itself.”
What do you mean?
“I mean that the one who crafted the system and whoever who linked you to the sword’s mana circuits are two different people.”
I guess I’d have to take her word for it. Back on Earth, there were craftsmen who could spot the differences in fine detail that were invisible to everyone else. This was probably the same sort of thing.
“I can’t even find out how they sealed you in this sword, or how you ended up bound to the God of Chaos. It’s all one big mystery after another… Godsmith or not, I am stumped.” She scoffed. “I should rename Parsesight to Farcesight.”
Despite her attempts to brush it aside, she was genuinely frustrated. She looked like she might sulk for the rest of the day, but then she remembered she was in the middle of giving a lecture.
“Actually,” she said, regaining her composure. “I don’t even know why they put you in the sword to begin with.”
Go on.
“Think of the timeline. The Wisdom Sword Cherubim was discarded, and the mystery soul was sealed inside. Then, someone constructed the unknown system, intending to pass the mystery soul’s powers onto you.”
Uh-huh.
“I assume the system was still set up for the benefit of the mystery soul. The stronger you got, the more crystals you would seek out. And more crystals means a faster recovery for the mystery soul.”
It sounded like we were doing exactly what my makers wanted us to do. Or rather, Fran was doing it, since I was technically a part of this mess. Still, it all worked out to Fran’s benefit, so I couldn’t complain. In fact, this unknown system was what allowed me and Fran to meet in the first place.
But then Aristea proceeded to drop a bombshell.
“But that just makes me wonder: Do they really need you at all, Teacher?”
What?
“I think you were sealed into the sword around the time the system was finished—you’re something of a set, you see. But why does this system need you?”
“Teacher is important!” Fran said, speaking up for the first time in a long while.
I guess she couldn’t let that go unchallenged. She might have been silent, but she was still listening. The fact that she’d even managed to stay awake through our complicated discussions showed how much she’d grown. I was touched.
“Save your glaring,” said Aristea. “I didn’t mean to insult him. I just wondered why he is necessary. Even if Teacher wasn’t here, Fran would still benefit from the soul’s powers.”
It was a good point. Between Skill Sharing and the P.A., Fran could still pick whatever skills and powers she wanted.
Was I…unnecessary?
“Teacher is necessary!” said Fran. “He teaches me things!”
Fran…
“Hm!”
I was so glad to be her sword!
“I wouldn’t say he is unnecessary,” said Aristea. “Clearly, a sapient sword has great benefits, and whoever made this sword wouldn’t shove a human soul inside it for no reason. So, there must be a reason that Teacher is here. That being said, I can’t analyze him deeply enough to find out why…”
Still, you’ve cleared up a lot of stuff. And we never would have found out any of this without you.
We learned a lot today. I now understood how my powers worked and that I was somehow connected to this Elmera person. Not to mention the fact that I was a repurposed Godsword.
“There was one other thing inside you that I couldn’t analyze,” said Aristea. “I don’t know whether it has anything to do with your role, but it was located in the deepest part of the sword.”
You couldn’t scan it at all?
“Not an inch. Unlike your other parts, it has anti-analysis and parsing measures. And they are strong enough to prevent me from analyzing it.”
Care to guess what it does?
“No idea. Don’t have enough information. I don’t even know what it’s for but…from what you’ve told me, I assume that is where the black mana is sealed.”
The thing that went berserk in Seedrun. The one the voice is watching over.
“Like I said, it’s just a guess. Sorry I can’t tell you more.”
She smiled wryly again, but she’d already exceeded my expectations. There was no way we would have learned so much without her.
It all somewhat supports my little theory about this mystery soul. Well, I guess it’s more of a flight of fancy than anything.
“Go on,” said Aristea.
It’s just a little story I tell myself.
That the mystery soul was Fenrir. I had no idea what a legendary monster was doing in my sword, and it was probably presumptuous of me to even think it, but the circumstantial evidence was quite strong: my wolf emblem, how Jet bore the title of Great Wolf Clan, the fact that the mystery soul was some kind of monster, and even how I woke in the Demon Wolf’s Garden, famed to be the resting place of the legendary Fenrir.
It was so possible that it almost felt plausible. I couldn’t help but connect the dots.
“Fenrir. I see,” said Aristea.
What do you think?
“It’s certainly possible. Monsters have dwelled inside Godswords in the past, lending their powers to the user. And there are standard enchanted weapons called Beast Weapons.”
Do they work by controlling souls?
Jean, the necromancer, said that souls were the dominion of the gods. Whichever Godsmith had devised me needed to find some way to meddle with that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. If nothing else, I was proof that there was a way to control someone’s soul. But Beast Weapons were nowhere near as complicated.
“Controlling a soul is difficult, but binding the soul into a sword? Not so much.”
Sounds straightforward.
“It is, and the same principle applies for Godswords.”
“Which Godswords have monsters in them?” Fran asked.
I’d like to know too.
Aristea counted them off on her fingers. “There’s the Demon King Sword Diablos, the Cruel Dragon Sword Lindworm, and the Serpent Lord Sword Jormugandr. There was also Gold Dragon Sword El Dorado, but that has been destroyed.”
“Godswords can break?” Fran asked.
I was curious about that as well. Aristea mentioned that Godswords were discarded when they were broken beyond repair.
I think the list we saw specified which ones were broken too.
Lumina, Ulmutt’s dungeon master, had shown us a partial list of Godswords. It noted the discarded Godswords too: Cherubim, Judgment, and Meltdown. The other destroyed swords that it listed were Fanatic and Holy Order. Now, we could add El Dorado to that list. But how could these Godswords be destroyed so easily?
“Like I said,” said Aristea. “Godswords aren’t invincible. They can be destroyed by anything that’s stronger than them, and if two Godsword users fought with each other, one of them could easily end up broken.”
A battle between Godsword users…
The destruction would probably be like a natural disaster.
“As for Fanatic and Holy Order,” she went on, “those two have a particular history together.”
“Meaning?” Fran asked.
“Fanatic was a strange sword, made in strange circumstances. Dionis, the Godsmith who forged it, was notorious for creating peculiar weapons.”
“Peculiar?” Fran said. “How?”
“There was the Mad Sword Berserk, which gave its user immense power at the cost of their sanity. The creation of the Demon King Sword Diablos is rumored to have involved the sacrifice of a saint and is said to control demons. The Hypocrite Sword Pacifist can control other people. Dionis’s Godswords brought out the worst in humanity.”
Those powers sounded horrible. With that kind of track record, who knew what Fanatic could do?
“Put simply,” said Aristea, “Fanatic connected the minds of people.”
You mean like Telepathy?
“What’s so bad about that?” Fran asked.
Maybe it made people fight by revealing their deepest desires? But its real powers were more gruesome than that.
“Maybe that’s not the best way to put it,” said Aristea. “Fanatic can amalgamate its victim’s mind with its user.”
Amalgamate? So, two people become one?
“Yes, but only the minds. Whenever someone was cut by Fanatic, their mind was absorbed by its user.”
What happened to their body?
“Here’s where it gets grotesque.”
Fanatic maintained a connection to the body even after assimilating their mind. The body might still appear to be a separate entity, but now it was a part of Fanatic’s user. Simply put, once their minds had been assimilated, the user could control multiple bodies. However, the Godsword allowed the husk to behave as it had when it was whole.
“It absorbed everything. Their memories, experiences, emotions, all of it. The question is: Do you think anyone could stay sane after assimilating dozens of minds? Or even hundreds?”
No way.
“Exactly. And that’s what happened. Its user’s mind expanded until they lost control. The Godsmith Ulmer saw this danger and created specifically to combat it. The two swords clashed, and both were destroyed in the ensuing conflict.”
I guess Godsmiths were people too, and they interacted with each other the same way as everyone else.
Wasn’t Ulmer the one who created the first Godsword? Alpha, isn’t it?
“You know your Godswords,” Aristea agreed. “He received a vision from the gods and became the world’s first Godsmith.”
Ulmer and Dionis lived in the same era?
“Yes. In fact, they were brothers. Ulmer was the oldest, and Dionis was his apprentice.”
I pictured the two smiths hammering away at the forge. Being Ulmer’s apprentice was no small feat.
“But he was bitterly jealous of Ulmer,” said Aristea. “He could never forgive him for the fact that the gods exalted him as the greatest of all blacksmiths. So Dionis watched his brother work, stole his techniques, and became a Godsmith on his own.”
That’s amazing.
Godsmithing wasn’t something you could learn just through observation. Dionis must have been extraordinary to make that kind of leap by sheer willpower.
“He was brilliant,” said Aristea. “Ulmer said in his memoirs, ‘My brother is the real genius. That is what makes him dangerous.’ The people who were alive at that time enjoyed the patronage of two Godsmiths, and there were many Godswords.”
Dionis was probably trying to get back at his brother. If Ulmer created proper and well-rounded Godswords, he would create monstrous ones to defeat them.
“But I digress,” said Aristea. “Let’s go back to discussing the Godswords with monsters inside of them.”
Oh, yeah, that’s what we were talking about.
I didn’t mind the diversion. After all, we probably wouldn’t have another chance to interview a Godsmith.
“As I said, it’s not impossible that Fenrir is sealed inside of you.”
You think that the one who made me wanted to save Fenrir’s soul from destruction?
“If it really is Fenrir, then yes, perhaps.”
We should look into Fenrir more when we got the chance. If the mystery soul wasn’t him after all, then we would have wasted our time, but…we’d just have to cross that bridge when we got to it.
We should check out the Garden again.
“Hm,” Fran agreed.
“Hmm…” said Aristea. “If you give me more time, I might be able to find out the identity of the soul sealed inside of you.”
“How much time do you need?” Fran asked.
“A couple years, give or take.”
Nope.
“Not happening.”
I didn’t want to spend Fran’s formative years sitting in Aristea’s atelier. Sure, we could learn a lot, but this beastgirl was born for adventure. Besides, we still had a promise to keep with Garrus. We needed to go back to Granzell for the auctions.
“Understandable,” said Aristea. “I won’t force you.”
Still, she looked slightly disappointed. She must be genuinely frustrated that her analysis hadn’t discovered more.
“Well,” she said. “With all that out of the way, we can proceed to restoration and remodeling.”
“Remodeling?” Fran asked.
I thought you were just going to fix me.
I just wanted to get back to normal.
“True, but you lack Cherubim’s vestiges. A basic restoration just won’t cut it.”
You mean it wouldn’t be enough?
“Cherubim was supposed to play a big role in managing your skills. Without her, you lack the power to process all of them. That’s the main reason why you broke.”
Cherubim was supposed to help me do it, but I was doing it alone.
“If I fix you without remodeling,” said Aristea. “You’ll just end up breaking again.”
What does remodeling involve? Can you increase my processing power?
“No. I don’t have the capacity to do that. You’re something of a pseudo-Godsword. In fact, you may as well be a Godsword yourself at this point—you have all the intricacies and complexities of one. And they aren’t something I can treat easily.”
Aristea couldn’t help with my hardware, but she could still treat my software, although it would be difficult. To put it another way, I had a lot of programs running in the background and they were taxing my memory. As long as that went on, I wouldn’t have the resources to run my finer processes.
My knowledge from Earth made it all surprisingly easy to follow, but Fran just tilted her head and looked confused.
So, you’re going to prune away the unnecessary bits?
“You catch on quick,” said Aristea. “Exactly right. Specifically, we are going to reduce your number of skills. You probably could’ve had an infinite number of skills with Cherubim but, the way it is now, the more you have, the heavier the burden they place on you.”
Every time I absorbed a crystal and acquired a new skill, it pushed me closer to my limit, and I got a boatload of skills during our last battle. In fact, I’d got about fifty—most of them minor things like Musical Instrument and Dancing. Perhaps the more intelligent monsters had hobbies, just like people. In any case, they contributed a great deal to my recent bloat. There were also a ton of skills I couldn’t use, like Enhanced Scales and Spiny Bristles. In total, I think I had about a hundred and fifty skills. When I told Aristea, she groaned.
“That’s insane.”
“Hm. Teacher has a lot of skills.”
“Look…even Godswords only have thirty at most. They get unwieldy at fifty, and you have a hundred and fifty? You’re asking for a meltdown. Especially since over half of them are advanced or compound skills. Your average Godsword would be destroyed by now!”
Oh…
“Honestly, I think you got off easy with a little pain.”
I guess I really was pushing myself. Just as well that I’d never lost control. And we were really fortunate to meet her when we did. If we hadn’t, I would’ve gone on fighting, and things…would’ve ended poorly. I didn’t even want to think about how devastated Fran would be if she’d lost me. And just after losing Kiara too…
I couldn’t break just yet. I had to make sure of it.
“Why do you feel pain, Teacher?” Fran asked, tilting her head.
Huh? Well, according to Aristea, it’s because I’m under a lot of stress.
“I think what she means is: How can you feel pain without a body?” Aristea said. It was quite the mystery, but she seemed to have an answer. “If your soul were artificial, then you wouldn’t feel pain. You wouldn’t even know what it was. But, because you used to be human, the impression of pain remains in your soul. You remember what it feels like to exert yourself until it hurts.”
I-I see.
So, even if I couldn’t feel pain, my mind anticipated it, thereby giving me the impression of it.
“As to why you don’t feel pain when your blade breaks, I’m not so sure. Either the sensation of breaking metal is so different from human pain that you don’t recognize it, or it’s just simply because swords don’t feel pain. It’s one of the two. Either way, it’s just as well that it does hurt to overexert yourself. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t have realized that you were lacking the vestiges of Cherubim.”
Aristea made a good point. If the pain hadn’t forced me to back off, I would have fought Murelia and Theraclede until I broke forever.
“For your remodeling,” she said, “we’ll need to get rid of all unnecessary skills and reduce the frequency of your pain. But I must warn you, I can’t sort through all of your skills. That would take years.”
What? Wait, that doesn’t sound good!
If my staple skills got deleted, my combat abilities would drop like crazy. I wanted to keep Sword King Mastery and Thunder Magic, if nothing else!
“Don’t worry,” said Aristea. “I won’t go deleting everything in sight.”
But you just said you couldn’t pick and choose…
“How should I put this? I can use the unknown system within you to select and optimize your skills.”
You can interact with it?
“Yes. I can’t make changes to it, but I can lump similar skills together and evolve them into their advanced forms.”
Since the sheer quantity of my skills lay at the root of my problem, she needed to delete some and evolve others. Basically, she was doing what the P.A. did for me last time. In fact, she might even be using the system in the exact same way. That didn’t sound so bad.
“Still,” said Aristea. “I won’t be able to make any fine tuning. You’ll be at the mercy of the system’s own selections.”
I see…
Without the P.A. around, I didn’t have much faith in it.
“You’ll end up with fewer useless skills clogging up your processing by the end of it. That said, I can’t guarantee that all your staples will remain intact. I’ve never done this before, you see.”
What do you think, Fran…?
Sounds good to me, she said.
But there’s a chance that you might lose something important. Like Sword Mastery.
Then we’ll just get it again. The most important thing is that you’re okay.
Fran…
Her words lit a fire in my heart. If I ended up weaker because of this, all I had to do was get stronger again. If I lost some skills, I could get them again. If I wasn’t in working condition, I couldn’t do any of that.
“Just one more question,” said Fran.
“Yeah?”
“What happens when we get more skills?”
She was right. It sounded like this needed to be a routine thing.
“You’ll have to see me from time to time,” Aristea agreed. “And do tell me if you discover anything new about Teacher. I’d like to help as much as I can.”
I…don’t suppose that’s just because you’re being nice.
“Well,” she said. “I must admit, I am deeply interested in you.”
I figured. Her eyes were glowing with curiosity. Still, I wasn’t one to look a friendly Godsmith in the mouth. It was nice to know that we could call on her for help—like knowing a world-renowned physician.
Either way, the good news was that I could keep fighting alongside Fran.
“All right,” Fran said. “We’ll come back when we need to.”
I leave my remodeling in your hands, I told Aristea.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They are very good hands.”
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