Chapter 16
JUST AFTER EARLY MORNING, the crew set about their investigation of Chimera Clausen. But as planned, Emella and Mira followed their lead to meet with Gregor.
“This place ought to work.” Mira came to the parking area next to the inn, affixed her summoning location to an empty spot, and summoned Pegasus.
The snow-white horse appeared at once, its wings spread gallantly.
“Whoa! So cool…” Emella was taken by its beautiful, dignified form. “May I touch it?”
Mira told her to ask Pegasus itself. When she did, Pegasus nodded slightly and Emella stroked the beast’s mane. The joy on her face was like that of a starry-eyed maiden.
“Okay, I think that’s enough. We’d best get going.” Mira climbed atop Pegasus’s back and said, “I hope you’re willing to carry two today.”
The horse neighed energetically in assent.
Listening to their exchange, Emella looked up with sparkling eyes. “Do I get to ride?!”
Mira scooted forward and pointed to the now-open space. “This will be much faster, after all.”
A huge smile broke over Emella’s face. She may have been obsessed with swords, but that admiration was rooted in her worship of heroes. And what defined heroes more than the companions they kept by their sides?
Pegasus was legendary—it didn’t allow just anyone to ride it. For Emella, this was a dream come true.
“Thanks for carrying me!” She bowed respectfully, took Mira’s hand, and hopped onto Pegasus’s back.
“Now, we go.” On Mira’s signal, Pegasus spread its wings wide and slowly ascended into the sky.
The rising perspective, the radiant warmth of Pegasus between her legs, the wind brushing across her body, and the scent of the ocean—all of these were new sensations that one could never experience on a normal horse. Emella drank in the panoramic world around her and rejoiced at having a secret wish granted.
“Thank you, Mira!” Emella hugged her gleefully from behind.
“Um, sure. Anyway, could you tell me where Gregor is, please?” Mira raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, eager to get on with their mission.
Pegasus sulked a little, jealous of Emella’s connection with Mira, but the girls failed to notice.
All the way to Gregor’s secret base, Emella was elated by what she saw from their bird’s-eye view.
***
“We’re so high up! So, this is how the world looks from the sky! Mira, this is awesome!”
“Indeed, it is awesome.”
The view from Pegasus’s back was beautiful. But Mira was playing the role of guardian today, so she remained calmer than ever while Emella struggled to control her emotions.
After leaving Sentopoli and flying along the coastline for some time, Emella pointed to the top of a cliff and stated that that was the place.
Mira had Pegasus land when she began to see a hollow in the cliff. On closer inspection, it was a steep staircase going down.
“Well, that’s scary…” she muttered.
“Isn’t it, though?”
The cliff was spine-chillingly high, and the meter-wide staircase was carved right out of the precipice and had no handrail. Terrified, Emella glued herself to the wall as she began her descent. Below, the billowing ocean waves crashed into the cliffside. They was so far away that they looked smallsmall, but the sounds of waves were very clear.
Since Mira could use her sage abilities to run atop the air, she wasn’t as nervous as Emella. But when she peeked down at the ocean, the sudden vertigo filled her with terror and thrill alike.
Emella descended the stairs gingerly, and Mira followed behind, battered by coastal winds with every step. The two finally arrived at a small cavern where the path, wide enough for only one person, led into the continental shelf.
Emella ran in with light footsteps, and Mira followed. About ten meters from the entrance, a door appeared before them. It was like any normal household door, lit by faint light—but it looked extremely out of place in the cave. Whose curiosity wouldn’t be piqued by such a sight?
“Here we are! Gregor’s home away from home,” Emella said, opening the door without hesitation and stepping inside.
Interesting. One would never find this from the sky.
Deep in a cavern on the side of a cliff—it would be impossible to spot from above. Why had she wasted her entire day yesterday? Suddenly a bit downhearted, Mira grimaced.
***
Beyond the door was another cave, but this one was quite spacious. Though it was the same height, it was four or five meters wide. Inside stood many pedestals, each with swords piled atop. Every sword was so fine that even amateur eyes could tell that they were first-rate—these were no mass-produced commodities.
In front of a drawing board hung on the far wall sat a gray-haired man.
“Good morning, Mr. Gregor,” Emella said.
After a beat, the man turned around. When he saw Emella, he stood straight up. The man wore black overalls, and he looked to be well beyond seventy years of age.
“Back so soon? Good! I need you to test the grip.” Gregor wore a broad smile on his deeply wrinkled face. He began excitedly rummaging through a pile of swords atop a pedestal.
Then his hands stilled. He looked up and stared at Mira for a moment, narrowed his eyes, and slowly walked over.
Gregor looked her up and down before glaring at Emella with a frown. “Who’s this?”
“She says she has business with you.” With that quick introduction, Emella stepped back.
Mira gazed directly at Gregor. His glorious white hair was left long, and he had stubble around his lips. The man was the very picture of an artisan wholeheartedly devoted to his craft. Despite being a bit different from what she’d imagined, Mira believed that she had much to learn from him.
“I’m Mira. Apologies for the intrusion, Sir Gregor; there is something I would like to show you.”
Mira stepped forward, confidently faced Gregor, and produced the cloth-wrapped sword that had served as the foundation for the Chimera elite’s spirit blade. It still had Gregor’s signature engraved on it.
“A sword? Well, I don’t know why a mage would show me a sword. Don’t expect me to appraise it. I’m not in the identification or pawn business,” Gregor grumbled. What he cared about was making swords for people he deemed worthwhile—no more, no less.
“I think you should take a good look. It should be familiar to you, after all.” Unbothered by Gregor’s curt attitude, Mira removed the cloth. She unveiled first the hilt, then the handguard, and finally the blade. Once the cloth was all gone, a fine sword was revealed.
His attitude changed the moment he saw it. Gregor’s brow furrowed, and he glared daggers at Mira. “Where did you get this?”
“Oho. So, you do know it,” Mira said, as if testing him.
“Of course I do. I made it, after all.” Gregor narrowed his eyes again and gazed at the sword nostalgically.
“Huh?!” Emella ran over to Mira before looking the sword up, down, and all around. But when she noticed Mira and Gregor’s irritated looks, she backed away.
The sword truly was Gregor’s work. In that case, much weighed on Mira’s next question.
“Would you be willing to tell me who you forged it for?”
Gregor’s swords were each the result of a thorough examination of their prospective wielder, made to suit their hands perfectly. No other person could hope to wield them to their fullest, and the more advanced the original wielder’s swordplay, the more evident the difference would be. They were like weapons that could only be equipped by a particular swordsman.
As such, Mira knew that the man she’d met in the depths of the Illusory Corridor had to be the only owner of that sword.
“And what would you do with that knowledge? What are you after?” Gregor’s low voice was like a growl, and the sharp gleam in his eyes seemed poised like a dagger at Mira’s neck.
No craftsman would readily betray the confidence of his clients. Gregor would need a good reason—Mira was quite aware of this. She met his glare squarely, took the sword’s hilt in hand, and raised its blade to block their intersecting gazes.
Then, with a smirk, she said, “To bring down Chimera.” The glint in her eyes was sharper than any blade.
Gregor knew that name. He had heard it from an acquaintance who was an adventurer. He knew that they did ill to spirits, as well.
Compared to those with fighting occupations, craftsmen did not interact with spirits much. But a relationship with them became essential if one wanted to truly master their craft. By earning spirits’ blessings, one could make incredibly fine equipment.
Throughout Gregor’s long life, he had received several spirits’ blessings. Chimera Clausen’s actions were something he could not overlook.
“Tell me more.” Gregor sat in a nearby chair and crossed his arms.
“I shall.” Mira placed the sword on the stand in front of Gregor and explained how it had come into her possession.
Mira gave him all of the important information: her battle with the necromancer Chimera Clausen elite in the Illusory Corridor wearing yin spirit equipment, how she’d obtained this sword, how the man had escaped at the end of the battle, and how she believed the sword was a clue to his true identity.
“Hm…” Gregor grumbled in response before picking up the sword.
He gazed at the blade, heaved a long sigh, and closed his eyes as if lost in memory. After a while, he opened his eyes and returned the sword with a grave look upon his face. He sat back deep into the chair, crossed his arms again, and gazed off into nothingness as he spoke.
“I gave this sword to Gregorius. My son.”
Gregor’s eyes shifted from those of a proud master of his craft to those of a weary old man.
From there, he spoke as if confessing. The sword was a gift he’d given to his son Gregorius thirty years ago in honor of his promotion to vice-captain of the guard for Ozstein’s Archeological Research Group. Gregorius was a necromancer—mages couldn’t wield fighting spirit—so this sword was quite different from those he made for the swordsmen who entrusted their lives to his wares. It was a sword that would only be useful for decoration or self-defense—something that he swore he’d never make.
But he had broken his ironclad rules and forged one peerless self-defense sword in all his career. It was the very sword Mira had brought to him.
“So…kid’s still alive, huh?” Gregor muttered and gazed upon the sword again. The relief of a father was evident in his eyes.
It had been reported that the Archeological Research Group and its escort had gone missing while searching ruins. Only a few corpses were recovered; the others remained missing to this very day.
And now, Gregorius was a top member of Chimera Clausen. Gregor could tell from how the sword was maintained that it had been wielded by his son.
“But I can’t believe he…” Gregor’s shoulders slumped sadly. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to let me rest for today.”
He stood up and trudged over to his plain bed, where he lay down. His son—who had reportedly died in the middle of nowhere—was now an elite member of an evil organization that harmed spirits. It must have been a lot to process.
After another glance at the sword atop the stand, Mira turned around, thanked him tersely, and left. If Gregor was going to rest, then he would be delaying his business with Emella as well. She followed Mira to the exit, disappointed.
“Mira, isn’t that sword important evidence? Shouldn’t we take it with us?”
“We’ve gotten the information we need.” Mira had no attachment to Gregor’s weapon, but Emella kept her eyes glued to it until they were finally out the door.
Since Gregor’s one-of-a-kind swords were made to suit a single user, they would be difficult for anyone else to wield. But Gregor’s swords had value beyond practical use: artistic value. They were as powerful as raging waves, yet collectors thirsted for his swords based on aesthetics alone. Especially if the wielder happened to be famous.
Emella estimated that this sword would have sold for over a hundred thousand at auction.
But Mira had left it behind, detached as a Buddha. Emella knew by now that this was just the kind of person Mira was.
“You’re one of a kind,” she said with a laugh.
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