EP.232 Trial of the Holy Grail (6)
Kirmelt Canyon, Galatrick.
Though forgotten by all now, Kirmelt Canyon was originally born from the actions of a single knight.
“This place should work.”
In a distant past, now known as ancient times. A knight, wandering in search of a place to train his sword, arrived at a cliff located at the very edge of the world. It was a place where only sheer cliffs existed, and there, he raised his sword.
Whoosh!
With a single swing.
The cliff splits and crumbles.
That day, the cliff became a canyon, and it was named ‘Galatrick’ after the knight.
“Galatrick.”
The story of the knight who created it, the origin of the name, and even the legend of the First Sword Saint have all faded, but it is still called Galatrick.
It was a canyon of swords, a holy site.
Now it has become a grave.
Standing there, the master of the canyon looks at the warrior who challenges him. The warrior charging from the ground breathes heavily. His steps are unsteady.
Thud thud!
Inexperienced.
“But.”
Inexperience, yet his eyes are filled with resolve.
The boy locks his gaze on the one he must face and never turns his head or closes his eyes. He is revealing his will as a warrior.
Grr!
Inexperienced, but has the basics down.
For now, that is enough.
“Alright.”
A smile crept onto Ganikalt’s face.
He recalled the boy who once learned the sword from him and opened his mouth toward the charging Lac.
“Come at me with the resolve to kill.”
Come at me with the intention to die.
“That is the basic.”
Thus begins the trial of the Holy Grail.
2.
“The one I encountered within the Holy Grail introduced himself as Belial.”
I blinked at Belnoa’s words, momentarily unable to comprehend what he just said.
“Wait, is it even possible to have a conversation?”
My head was a jumbled mess.
“…He introduced himself? So he spoke?”
“Yes. Shadow Dragon’s Sorcerer, Belial. The one who appeared in the trial was not Professor Rania, but him.”
Belial.
No one dared to utter a name synonymous with disaster, so the name Belial was reserved solely for the Black Dragon.
“But, a sorcerer?”
I had a guess.
I suspected, but that was not information that Belnoa could know. I squinted and asked again.
“A sorcerer and not a Black Dragon?”
“Yes, a robust figure wielding sorcery…”
“Does he have a dragon tattoo on his arm?”
“…Yes? Oh, yes. How did you know?”
The figure that popped into my mind matched the person Belnoa encountered in the Holy Grail. As this fact became certain, I felt confusion wash over me.
“…How?”
This couldn’t possibly be happening.
Belnoa had no means to know the past Belial. That information was preserved only in the northern tower’s records—and to access those records, stringent conditions were required.
“Did Cardi tell him? Or was there some condition…”
It was neither.
I opened my mouth to discuss ‘Belial’ with Belnoa, but my tongue felt tied by constraints. It was proof that Belnoa lacked the qualifications.
“…I know. But that’s not someone you could meet. Have you seen him before?”
“No, I saw him for the first time inside the Holy Grail.”
“The Grail is supposed to create trials based on the strong individuals you’ve seen and experienced, right? You should have a guess at least…”
“I don’t really…”
As Belnoa stroked his chin, a realization seemed to dawn on him.
“He called me his successor.”
“Successor?”
“Yes, he said he would teach me how to wield shadow sorcery. He even guided me on the direction of the sorcery…”
Shadow sorcery, and successor.
A piece of information raced through my mind.
“Belnoa.”
I called out softly to Belnoa.
“Where did you say you first learned sorcery?”
“From Cardi the Elder. He pulled out a sorcery book from the shop’s corner and gave it to me, saying I had talent in sorcery…”
Indeed.
I felt the puzzle pieces fit together in my mind. Successor, sorcery, and Cardi who created the Holy Grail. As the pieces joined, a rough answer began to emerge.
“The Grail creates trials from the memories contained in the challenger’s soul. Not just the memories left in the mind, but ‘the memories engraved in the soul’.”
I wondered then why that was emphasized…
“Ah, so the sorcery engraved the memory.”
Whether through sorcery or spell, repetitive use of a similar circuit could embed that circuit within the body.
“This phenomenon of the body and soul merging circuits, greatly enhancing spell mastery and power.”
It’s something mages refer to as ‘mastery.’
“My strikes and crushes have a similar aspect to this…”
However, that’s just a phenomenon that happens occasionally. It’s unclear how many spells need to be cast, or how exactly the circuits will be engraved upon the soul.
It’s merely a product of chance.
No one has been able to clarify this phenomenon, which the magical world treats as a product of coincidence. I, too, don’t fully understand what mastery entails.
“…But, to cause that artificially?”
I muttered in disbelief.
To embed memories into the very circuits of sorcery, to prepare for the successor who would someday use their sorcery when they call upon the Grail… The memories would leave traces on the soul every time the sorcery was used.
Traces scattered across the soul.
Without something to connect those, they would merely be meaningless traces. Yet, I now held in my hand an object that could gather the scattered pieces and give them meaning.
Holy Grail (星杯).
A miraculous relic that reads ‘memory’ from the challenger’s soul and completes them as a trial. The existence of the Grail bestows meaning upon the scattered memories.
Completing the fragmented memories into a form of trial.
“What…”
I couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.
Ha ha!
“To what extent has he prepared for a successor who might come at some point in the future?”
This wasn’t something a rational person would think to do.
I stared blankly at the cracked Grail. The structure of the Grail itself was difficult to understand, but I couldn’t help but wonder if this was part of some grand plan.
“What the hell, what else has been prepared…”
I let out a hollow laugh and muttered.
“…No wonder it’s cracked.”
I turned my gaze away from the cracked Grail. Not at Belnoa, but toward the star pool where Lac had entered.
“Belnoa had a connection to Belial.”
A distortion created around the star pool.
“If that’s the case, then Lac…”
At first glance, it appears to be a distorted space, but upon closer inspection, a single line of a true sword strike is engraved there. A mark as if the space had been torn by a sword.
And if I recall correctly…
There was only one being capable of such madness with a single sword.
“Ganikalt van Galatrick.”
The sword placed in the holy site of the Grace Family.
The Holy Sword used by Ganikalt in his lifetime.
It was a vague speculation that this had something to do with the current phenomenon.
“Hey, Belnoa.”
“Yes? Master.”
“I need to change what I said.”
Belnoa blinked in surprise.
I pointed toward the pool Lac had entered.
“The issue is not you, but Lac.”
I pressed my temples hard.
“What are we supposed to do about him…”
This wasn’t something made to break through.
There was definitely a problem.
3.
No matter how many times he awoke, he could never win.
The moment Lac faced Ganikalt, he was struck by a certainty in his mind. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t even land a hit on the opponent in front of him.
Crash!
“No, I can’t even touch him.”
Just standing in front of him brought that certainty.
Lac’s instincts rang alarms, warning him to turn back and flee. However, Lac never looks back.
His gaze is fixed forward.
He grips his weapon with greater strength.
Shaking off his hesitation, Lac steps forward.
Before him stands Ganikalt, still in place, yet in Lac’s eyes, he appears as an insurmountable wall.
A gigantic wall that cannot be climbed.
A wall so sturdy that even hundreds of strikes wouldn’t leave a dent. As Lac approaches this wall with determination.
“…”
Lac locks eyes with Ganikalt.
From within the helmet, Ganikalt’s gaze shines brightly. The moment Lac meets those cold dark eyes, his own tremble violently.
Thud!
“…Ugh!”
A vision of his body being torn apart invades his mind.
In an instant, his head falls away, limbs detach, and his heart shatters in that vision, causing Lac’s steps to falter.
He doesn’t fall flat like before. He doesn’t drop his weapon. But that’s where his limit lies.
He cannot take a single step further.
It feels as if chains are binding his body.
Clank!
“…I understand this is an illusion.”
He knows it’s an illusion. However, this isn’t a mere trick of the mind.
The knight in front of him possesses the power and skill to turn an illusion into reality in an instant, and with sheer will, he has driven that fear deep into Lac’s mind.
What he feels is the Fear of Death.
Before this fear, his will threatens to shatter once again.
Just locking gazes stole his thoughts away.
His legs tremble. The hand gripping the weapon quakes. His eyelids feel heavy, and his upper and lower jaws clack together awkwardly.
Clack, clack!
But.
Huff, huff!
He refuses to look away in the end.
He strengthens his eyelids and fixes his wandering gaze straight ahead. His eyes become bloodshot, and due to biting down hard, his jaw aches.
By locking his gaze, what fills his vision is the scene before him. The path he must tread to move forward.
He would need five steps to reach Ganikalt.
If he set his mind to it, he could cover that distance in one leap, but to Lac right now, those five steps felt further than anything.
“That’s right. Look clearly with both eyes.”
The knight’s voice echoes.
“Five steps.”
He speaks to Lac.
“Close the distance of five steps. All I can teach you now is this sensation.”
Staring directly into Lac’s eyes, the knight continues.
“Come over.”
With gritted teeth, Lac focuses his strength.
Creeeak!
To Lac’s eyes, the entire space appears to be compressed, yet he cannot tell whether this is an illusion or reality. The tangible pressure was weighing him down.
His steps feel heavy.
His body refuses to move.
Crack! With his teeth clenched, Lac forces his body to budge. Governed by the fear, he begins to move.
Thud, thud!
With a chilling sound, Lac barely takes a step. Just taking a single step drenched him in sweat. Breathing heavily, it feels like climbing a steep cliff.
Using the one step as leverage, he takes another step forward.
With a body screaming in agony, Lac approaches Ganikalt. Grinding his teeth, as he steps for the fourth time, Lac gasps for breath.
“Ugh…!”
Only one step remains, yet his physical limits have been reached.
His body refuses to move any further.
His entire body screams.
Four steps seem sufficient, don’t you think? Why not stop here? But Lac does not rest on his laurels.
He pushes forward.
Taking that final remaining step.
A single step, cracking the whip of his limitations, Lac strides forward harder than ever, moving his arm. Crack! His arm moves with a snap.
Ganikalt’s demand was to take five steps.
However, Lac intends to go beyond five steps.
Simple and straightforward, but that’s why Lac does not break the resolve he set. He shows the pride of a warrior before the knight.
Clang!
Lac’s axe strikes Ganikalt’s chest plate. With that blow, Lac collapses to his knees on the ground.
“…”
Though Ganikalt could have blocked the attack, he slowly reaches out to touch his chest plate.
“Impressive.”
He closes his eyes, then opens them again.
With that alone, the oppression in the surrounding area dissipates. Lac merely lifts his head slightly to gaze at Ganikalt.
“Remember this feeling.”
Ganikalt speaks.
“The human body follows the will. If that will is clear, the body moves beyond its limits.”
His tone is different now than it was moments ago.
Not sharp or cold.
“Possibility to surpass limits. The probability to overcome and move on to the next. Every human possesses that.”
It sounds like a master teaching his disciple.
“Humans have always transcended their limits. That linked to the history of humankind… and that will be the past I lived, and the present you are living.”
Humans possess potential.
“You were splendid, Lac von Grace.”
Believing in that potential, the knight who dedicated his life smiles at the boy before him.
“Keep progressing.”
He lifts his sword.
Swish!
The knight swings the lifted sword toward the sky.
A human, with feet planted on the ground, swings their sword toward the heavens.
The blade barely slices through the air.
Yet the tip of the sword definitely reached toward the sky.
Rumble! The air quietly tears apart. The separation reveals the exposed space. The trial of the Holy Grail crashes down, and Lac is flung back.
“Let’s look forward to the day we meet again.”
As the trial of the Holy Grail crumbles.
Buried beneath Kirmelt Canyon.
The master of the canyon remains, sword planted in the earth, dignified as always.
Author’s Note (Afterword)
The difficulty of the Holy Grail’s SOULS, even in the trial version…!
