Infinite Dendrogram - Volume 19 - Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Finest in the Right, Strongest in the Left

A long time ago...

In the distant past, before a certain world was even born, one of the previous observers—gods, or “Infinite Jobs,” as they could be called—was faced with his creations and overcome by an inner conflict.

This entity called the BLACKSMITH was building the world alongside his colleagues.

Everyone in the group had assumed different roles in assembling this garden—this aggregation of information. One built the world’s foundation. One gathered the monsters—including the “gulong” or “ancient dragons.” One gathered countless physical materials. One wove the system of jobs. One created the young humanoids who would wield those jobs. One prepared the Archetype System—the control substitute. One set up the trial known as the GAME OVER.

Thus, the program known as “the world” was built by many hands, each responsible for a different aspect.

One of them, the BLACKSMITH, created only a single weapon.

It was a weapon meant only for a unique entity bearing a Special Superior Job—a weapon for acquiring this job and a weapon meant to be wielded by it.

It was the possibility that could strike down their trial—The DEMISE—and prevent the end of the world—the GAME OVER.

In short, one could call it the world’s strongest weapon.

The BLACKSMITH’s brethren entrusted him with the creation of this weapon, and employing all his creative and imaginative prowess, he began forging a masterpiece.

However, he soon found himself in an abyss of indecision.

He was meant to create only one masterpiece, yet in front of him, there were two.

All the skill he channeled into this work had led to him creating one weapon too many.

One was a carver of origins—a two-edged blade that transformed the natural shape of all it cut and sliced even through energy itself.

It was the strongest of swords, one that bore the law of absolute severance.

The other was a determiner of all ends—a killing blade, the antithesis of all and everything that heralded certain ruination.

It was the strongest of axes, one that bore the law of absolute annihilation.

A sword of “one.” An axe of “all.” Faced with these two mighty weapons, nearly finished, the BLACKSMITH found himself lost in thought.

Even with his authority and power, he could only complete one of them, and the weapon that would remain incomplete would not be able to exhibit even a tenth of its projected power. In his eyes, the weapon he did not choose would fall in status from a masterpiece to dross.

Thus, he pondered. He thought long and hard about which of the two he would leave behind.

And in the end, he forged the sword.

Granted the name of “Altar,” the blade had appeared in the completed world many times alongside its Sacred Kings and Sacred Princesses. Even after the downfall of the immense pre-ancient civilization, it still found a wielder and returned to etch its name in history once more.

This weapon was the pride of the world—the strongest sword of legend and the symbol of an entire kingdom. It had become so adored that it was the subject of not just biographies, but children’s tales as well.

The incomplete axe, on the other hand, was not even given a name. It found itself submerged beneath the tide of history.

It appeared here and there, but was never wielded by one person for long. Occasionally the axe was held by some of the strongest fighters of an era, but they all eventually succumbed to it.

It was a weapon that hurt whoever wielded it. It could rid them of their body parts and sometimes even strip them of their lives.

This foul association resulted in the axe being reviled as a cursed weapon.

History had seen a few Fallen Knights who had thought they could wield the axe without penalty, but its effects were no curse—merely a feature of the weapon—so they had lost their lives all the same.

Indeed, the damage done to the wielder was by design—and both the sword and the axe had actually been the same in this regard.

When used, the same power that flowed through their attacks also flowed through their wielders. That indeed made them seem like cursed weapons from RPGs—powerful items that could only be used at a steep cost.

Altar, the chosen blade, simply had this effect removed by the BLACKSMITH’s final touch—the application of the mechanisms related to the Sacred King job. If the sword hadn’t been chosen, it would’ve become a terrible blade that inflicted the wielder with wounds that never closed.

And because the BLACKSMITH could only finish one weapon, the unchosen axe became nothing but waste and refuse.

It would never be able to display its full potential, for using even 10% of its output was enough for it to blow away its wielder. It harmed all who swung it, making it impossible for it to show its true power.

The moment the sword was chosen over it, the axe’s fate was sealed. It became a weapon that would never see the light of day.

The axe itself didn’t think much of that fact. It didn’t bear any envy toward or grudge against the blade Altar for being chosen, but it still possessed the instincts of a weapon.

It only wished to be wielded by those who sought power.

Though it may have been incomplete dross, it still endeavored to do what a weapon should do.

Thus, it granted power to all those who took it in hand. In exchange for that power, the axe took their limbs and perhaps even their bodies—and because of that, its entire existence was a series of curses it bestowed. The axe became the subject of its wielders’ regret, suffering, and despair—and bathed in its victims’ grudge and gore. Even those who initially seemed like they could master the weapon eventually died as they drew out more power than they could handle.

This cycle had been repeated countless times throughout its long history. The grudge of those that touched the axe had accumulated and engulfed it in the same manner as it had covered Tenchi’s curseblades, and eventually it lost its original white color and became bloodred.

The axe remained the same even after the Incarnations became the managers of this world. Whether due to its lack of name or some other reason, it had not become a UBM. It was still just a weapon that no one could use in any meaningful way.

However, there was a time when things were different.

King of Kings himself had acquired the axe in the wars and took it in hand.

Fearsome as the weapon may have been, he was actually able to use it. He took the damage it inflicted, endured it, and thus wielded the axe’s power.

During that time, the axe saw use as the weapon it was born to be—it had fulfilled the purpose of its being.

However, during one battle, the axe lost a piece of itself. Upon seeing this, King of Kings said, “I will not be using this axe again,” and stored it away in a vault beneath his capital.

After King of Kings’ “disappearance,”’ the city in which the vault resided had changed hands many times, but the axe was the only thing in it that had remained untouched. Or, to be more precise, anyone who did touch it had died.

However, shortly after The Evil took over the city, one of The Evil’s dependents took up the axe. The dependent couldn’t wield it as well as King of Kings, but it possessed enough regeneration to make up for the damage the axe inflicted. It also covered the axe in a cursed cloth that gave more direction to the weapon’s power, making it easier for the dependent to wield. It channeled great amounts of the axe’s potential and struck fear into the hearts of many people, increasing the grudge upon the axe even further.

However, this wielder eventually vanished as well. During the final battle between the Sacred King and The Evil, the axe finally faced Altar—now bearing the subtitle of “Primeval Blade”—and was defeated alongside the dependent that wielded it.

That was the last battle the axe had seen.

By the end of it, the grudge accumulated within the axe had surpassed its limit, covering it in layer upon layer of blackish-red rust.

After that, it was moved to the birthplace of the Sacred King’s wife—Over Gladiator, Freymel Gideon. Her home had a vault specifically designed for cursed items, and that was where the axe was stored away.

Since then, many clergymen ranging from mere priests to Hierophants and High Priestesses had tried to uncurse it, but all of them had failed. The axe had remained in the vault until modern times.

During the centuries since, certain information regarding The Evil had purposefully been wiped out, stripping the axe even of its history and reducing it to nothing but a cursed object. This axe which had existed since the beginning of the world could very well have remained dormant in that vault’s inventory until the end of time, its history forgotten, no different from any other weapon abandoned there.

...But then Ray Starling took it out.

◇◆◇

Sorcerer, Ray Starling

“...Do you seek power?” The voice didn’t come as a sound—it rang out directly in my head.

At the same time, an insane amount of info flowed into my mind.

I was shown the memory of the axe I’d seen this morning, followed by a bunch of stuff that had happened since that point.

I saw the axe spend countless years hurting the many people who tried to wield it.

I saw people take it up as a weapon, then discard it.

I saw it handled by some monstrous creature who wrapped it in the black cloth I now recognized.

And I saw it defeated by someone wielding Altar—Azurite’s ancestor.

And finally, I saw my own face, along with the Thrall right in front of me.

“This is...ah! Shit...!” All the info I’d just been bombarded with threw me off and made me stop dead in my tracks for a moment.

I was barely dodging the Thrall’s attacks to begin with. There was no way I could dodge the next one now.

“Hm...?”

But contrary to what I expected, the attack didn’t hit me.

Actually, the Thrall wasn’t moving at all anymore. It had stopped in place while holding up its left blade, ready to swing.

It wasn’t just the Thrall either. Nemesis, Gerbera, my own body...everything besides my thoughts had been rendered immobile. The world itself had also become monochrome, as though stripped of all color.

Only I was different. I looked down and saw my own semitransparent form. It was like I was having an out-of-body experience.

“What...what’s going on here?” Did Overlord Acedia use some skill? He would have no reason to keep my mind free, though.

Then, this has gotta be...

“Indeed. This is a high-speed exchange of information betwixt you and I alone.”

The voice from before...the axe explained the situation directly to my mind, like Nemesis with her telepathy.

I couldn’t see it anywhere, though.

“An info exchange...? Was that show from a moment ago part of that too?”

“Indeed. I have conveyed to you the information I possess in a manner you could tolerate.”

It was a high-speed digest that wasn’t even voiced—it was all just some clips and images. I didn’t even know who most of the people were. I only recognized Azurite’s ancestor because I’d seen portraits of him, and I obviously knew it was my face at the end there.

Still, that was enough for me to understand what this axe had gone through—what kind of existence it led simply because it was incomplete.

“Now that you understand, I shall repeat the question: do you seek power?” the axe asked me again. “Wielding my power shall bring you harm. It is double-edged in the purest sense—what power is wielded will be returned to its wielder.”

“You...” The axe had told me how it worked pretty clearly. This mechanism had made it hated, yet it remained unbent and unbroken, refusing to change its nature in the slightest.

...This thing’s honest to a fault, huh? I sincerely thought.

“Can I ask something first?”

“I shall permit it.”

“Why did you ask me that here and now?” I mean, you never said anything when I first picked you up or when I fought Lei-Lei, I added silently.

“There are two reasons. First is the peculiarity of this space.”

“The Dreamland?”

“If your perceptions are correct, then this space welcomes only those that possess a mind of their own. Neither the cloth that binds me nor the mire of grudge that has engulfed me have joined us here. This allows me to act on my own will.”

So this thing was silent in reality because of the cloth and the insane amount of grudge, huh? And it must have really been free to do whatever in dreams, because this actually wasn’t the first time it had tried to communicate with me—I realized our first exchange had actually been the dream from this morning.

“The second reason is you.”

“Me?” After a pause that made it seem like it had nodded, the axe continued.

“You wielded me once and had your body broken. You saw the dream and came to know my origin. You suffered defeat, and I brought it upon you. In spite of all that, you have not discarded me. I have brought you harm, yet you continue to seek my power. Such wielders are few and far between. In my entire history, I have witnessed only three.”

I figured the axe was talking about the king-like man, the monstrous creature, and me.

“Thus, I give you this question once more: will you seek my power, though it may shatter your body?”

In response...

“And how much power can I get if I let it do that?”

...I asked a question that hinged on a certain decision.

The axe fell silent for a moment.

“Within the memories I received from you, there are words which echo my answer,” it said before continuing with “Enough power that we might defeat this Thrall.”

He must have been talking about the words used by Nemesis.

“Perfect.”

That was why I replied to it the same way I’d replied to her.

I sought power and accepted its nature—that was why that single word was enough of an answer. I chose to wield the axe—to shoulder it, risks and all.

I’d actually been considering using it against the Thrall right from the first. It could have literally cost me an arm and a leg, though, and I didn’t know if it would be strong enough to break Mythical metal anyway.

But now that I knew for sure that victory was within our grasp, I decided I would just gamble on it.

“I still haven’t thought of a name for you, though,” I said. “You okay with that?” I’d promised I’d name it just this morning, but I didn’t have one yet.

“Wait until the moment my true self is unleashed, and you have become my wielder in truth...”

“All right. I’ll think of a good one, then.”

“I shall anticipate it.”

Then, the monochrome world regained its color, and the moment it began to move again, the Thrall swung its blade down toward me.

◇◆◇

Whimsical Dreality, Dreamland, Interior

Everyone who saw the scarlet blade fall upon Ray was convinced that he’d died.

Ray had stopped moving. He couldn’t possibly evade the strike. The death he’d been narrowly avoiding for so long had finally caught up with him. Gerbera, Sechs, Cardinal A, and even Nemesis knew for certain that the attack had struck home. After all—Cardinal A’s arm had already been swung down. The searing blade of Mythical metal had sunk deep into the Dreamland’s road like it was no more substantial than cake.

Ray was right where it had passed through, and he was certainly split in two now. The bisected pieces of his body were just about to slide apart and collapse pitifully onto the ground.

That was what everyone thought, at least.

“He...EEP!” A moment after that, Gerbera let out a charming yelp and jumped backward. That was because something had flown toward her so fast it had startled her. “Wh-What...huh?” Still shaken, she looked at what it was.

It was a broken blade.

The searing-hot Mythical metal had been snapped like a cheap box cutter.

“...G h e?” Cardinal A itself finally noticed that something wasn’t right. It looked at its left blade—this part of itself—and realized that it was half gone.

The lower half had sunk into the road beneath, but the upper half that was supposed to have sliced its target in half had been sliced instead.

“The right will not withstand beyond one more.”

“Got it.”

And so, the unsevered enemy moved for another attack. Though shocked, Cardinal A rushed to protect its head using what remained of its left arm. Its defense power was the same across its whole body, and normally it never had to protect its weak points. In fact, it had never encountered any scenario in which it would have been easily broken.

However, its animalistic instincts, artificial though they may have been, had driven it to shield itself against the enemy’s attack.

A moment later, with an ear-splitting crack, what remained of Cardinal A’s left arm shattered.

It was as though the Mythical metal comprising it was little more than a block of ice.

Cardinal A was overcome by confusion, but the same could be said about Nemesis—the weapon in its enemy’s left hand.

“R-Ray...! Your right arm...!”

Nemesis noticed that Ray’s right arm had shattered from within. Its bones were pulverized, its blood vessels had exploded, its muscles were torn, and its nerves were sending nonstop signals to the rest of his body saying that something was very wrong.

Right now, Ray’s right arm was little more than a bag of blood in the vague shape of an arm.

Despite that, it was still grasping a weapon he’d taken out using Instant Equip.

It was a pure-white axe.

“...This isn’t as bad as it was outside. I swung you twice, but my arm’s still there.”

“Indeed,” said the axe. “I am currently able to control myself, and thus I am only manifesting enough power to destroy Mythical metal. In the waking world, on the other hand, I am optimized for the hand of my previous wielder. My Blade-Select is limited to damage that is physical and aligned to the element of dark, and the power I possess is considerably higher. The price you shall pay to wield me there will obviously be far greater.”

In this dream, the pale weapon was stripped of both the deep grudge upon it and the curse-cloth it was wrapped in. But although a single swing of the axe as it was here wasn’t enough to destroy Ray’s arm, it had already pulverized it enough that it barely counted as a functional limb. The damage upon it was too severe to be undone by anything but jobs from the priest grouping and similar individuals.

A tian warrior would have already been incapacitated, and no one would fault him for reviling the weapon that had caused such great harm to him.

Ray, however, continued to hold the axe with a smile on his face.

Though his body was shattered, he kept on looking ahead, just as he had in his battle against an apex.

“R-Ray...is this...the axe?” asked Nemesis.

“Yeah. I’m switching hands. Hold on so you don’t fall.”

“...Very well!” Nemesis replied as Ray took her in his right hand and the axe in the left.

She then slightly changed her form so that she was affixed to the damaged arm.

“Anyway, it’s now possible for us to beat the Thrall, but my left arm can only swing you twice, huh?” Ray didn’t let the axe’s power go to his head, nor was he bothered by the state of his right arm—he was completely focused on how he could win.

In isolation, the self-inflicted damage let him swing the axe twice, but he also had Bleeding and other injury-based debuffs that were gradually draining his HP, so it was within the realm of possibility that he would die before he could use those two swings.

Cardinal A, however, still had its right arm and tail.

If it chose to go on the defensive again, it could force Ray to use up both of his swings. Also, it hadn’t been evading any of Ray’s attacks because it simply didn’t need to—but now that it had seen the axe’s power, it was likely to take more evasive action.

The axe would damage Ray even if he missed. Trying to destroy a critical part with just the two swings he had left to him was a gamble.

“...G h e.” Cardinal A also took a moment to consider its enemy. The Master before him had suddenly found enough power to actually cause it some harm, but it could instantly tell that this power was a double-edged sword—or in this case, an axe.

If Cardinal A chose to run, Ray would likely succumb to the continuous damage from Bleeding and similar debuffs. On the other hand, hitting him just once would end the battle then and there.

The Thrall also remembered the Shining Despair skill that Ray had used at the start of the battle.

The laser and the axe—this enemy had already played two powerful aces up his sleeve.

If Cardinal A focused on running away, it was possible that its opponent would play another one—and for all it knew, it could be something that targeted its creator instead of itself.

It had to prevent that at all costs, so it chose to go on the offensive, flinging out its long tail in a swipe that doubled as a defensive maneuver.

“...By the way, axe.”

“What is it?”

“You mentioned something about optimization and being limited to physical and dark damage, didn’t you? You’re able to...”

Both sides of this battle now possessed a means of destroying one another—and right as they were on the verge of starting the proper fight, Ray posed a third question to the axe.

“...Right?”

“Indeed. Thus my law: ‘absolute annihilation.’”

“Okay. In that case...”

Just as the axe’s response caused Ray to think of something, Cardinal A made its move.

It used its extended tail-blade to try and decapitate Ray. If this attack killed him, that would be the best outcome for the Thrall. If it forced him to use his self-damaging axe, that would be second best. And if it made Ray evade and break his stance, that was perfectly fine too.

No matter Ray’s response, the attack would make the situation better for Cardinal A.

“That means we can do this,” Ray said, using the axe to cut off the tail-blade—the second-best scenario for the Thrall.

“G h e...!” Cardinal A did not miss the opportunity and quickly closed the distance between them. It charged with its right blade forward—if Ray intercepted it with the axe, he would become incapacitated, opening him for a swift death by the Thrall’s blade slicing through his head.

But then, Cardinal A suddenly stopped and jumped backward—driven once again by instinct.

The Thrall stopped when it suddenly felt as though it was making a fatal mistake.

The blade of the pale axe had just passed through where Cardinal A’s right arm was.

One for the tail, one for this missed attack. That was supposed to deplete the two times Ray could swing the axe with his left arm...but it hadn’t.

“Yeah. Looks like we can do this.”

Ray’s left arm was still completely unharmed. It wasn’t bleeding, and it hadn’t shattered.

The only change was that it was entirely covered by a black cloth.

“...G h e?” Cardinal A could not understand. Was the self-damage not a feature of the axe?

But then, it noticed something else.

The cross section of its freshly severed tail was red-hot.

It was as though it had been hit by the laser from early in the battle. While its left arm had been shattered, this new injury was the result of unbearably high heat.

“Blade-Select: Light,” said the pure-white axe. The weapon responsible for this too. Though it was still pallid, its color was somewhat different than before. Its blade was shining white as though it was under the effect of a Swordmaster’s Laser Blade skill.

“It worked...”

Blade-Select.

This was the power that put the axe on the same level as Altar, giving it the potential to be a true masterpiece.

Altar was a weapon of “absolute severance,” which let it cut through all and any existence and energy.

The axe, on the other hand, possessed the law of “absolute annihilation.”

It annihilated anything it hit using energy that was directly opposed to it.

The axe was a counter-weapon against all phenomena, capable of using all elements and attributes—including those unknown to tians and Masters. Even if it didn’t employ an opposing element, it could destroy things with the sheer amount of pure energy it delivered.

The power of burning, scorching, evaporating light was no exception, though using it would deliver the same evaporating light upon the wielder, as well.

The self-damaging power of the axe was inescapable. No wielder of this weapon was capable of avoiding this.

However, they could withstand it.

“...Look how it all slots into place,” Ray said, looking down at his left arm.

The dark cloth enveloping it was the Black Warcoat, Monochrome—the MVP reward that absorbed all light.

The two swings of the axe had indeed delivered a blast of damaging energy to the arm that held it, but Monochrome had taken and absorbed it all.

Additionally, the Miasmaflame Bracer on the left hand was the one that fired Purgatorial Flames, giving it a naturally high fire resistance. Combined, these two MVP rewards had effectively neutralized both the light as well as the residual heat that followed it.

This meant as long as the axe was light-aspected, Ray could use it with almost no drawback.

“Now I can fight without caring about the backlash.”

And because of this, Ray and Cardinal A had become more or less even.

Both had attacks that could end the other, and victory would go to the one who delivered the killing strike first.

“...The situation has turned so quickly that I am unable to keep up,” said Nemesis, unsure how to feel about the speedy and immense—but certainly positive—change the axe had brought. She had only been able to scratch the Mythical metal, but the axe was destroying it with little effort.

She was starting to feel as though it had taken over her position as Ray’s weapon.

“I did expect to eventually be joined by a weapon that surpasses me in attack power, but this is nonetheless somewhat difficult to take in,” Nemesis said.

“I was designed to be unmatched,” the axe said. “It is an inevitability that the power of a novice weapon would be less than mine.”

“Who are you calling a novice?! You are the pale newcomer here! Are you picking a fight?!”

“You are a novice. It is simply true. And only a contest between equals can truly be called a ‘fight.’ That does not apply to us. Please explain to me what you mean, umbral novice.”

“Why, you little...!”

Caught between the two, Ray put on a wry smile and said, “...Could you two cut it out?”

It also reminded him of something and made him think, Is this how she is with anything white?

“B-But, Ray! You’re only using that axe now! And I feel that it is the reason I failed to evolve!”

“Don’t worry.” As her Master, Ray also felt that a power had been budding within her, only to go dormant again.

However, that was not a problem. They’d already seized the possibilities.

“We already know how to win this, and we see our new possibilities, don’t we?” Ray said. “Isn’t that enough?”

All they had to do here was use the cards they had to approach victory.

“But...well...the axe is so immensely strong that... My role...”

Ray laughed at this.

“Stop that!”

“Laughable,” commented the axe.

“You be silent too!” Ridiculed by both Ray and the axe, Nemesis was starting to get a bit upset, but...

“That’s not really something you’ll ever have to worry about, though.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, even if this axe here is my strongest weapon, of all the things I can wield...” Ray said with a grin, “Nemesis is the best, right?”

Ray repeated a familiar phrase—from the heart this time.

“...Yes!” she replied joyfully.

The axe said nothing, only watching the exchange between the longtime wielder and weapon.

It found their bond enviable, and it hoped to experience that someday.

“Aaanyway...” Done talking, Ray faced Cardinal A once more.

After the axe had begun to shine and stripped it of its tail, the Thrall had also drawn back to analyze the situation. It was done with that, however. It seemed to have found a means to defeat Ray, and had rushed forward to face him fully prepared.

But Ray was ready for it as well.

“All right...let’s win this!”

“Certainly!”

“Indeed.”

In Ray’s left hand, clad in light-eating black cloth, there was a pure-white axe that brought annihilation by burning light.

In his right, bloodied and bruised, there was a jet-black greatsword he trusted more than anything else.

His hands, covered by demonic bracers, held both the strongest and the best weapons he could wield.

And so, Ray charged at Cardinal A one last time.