Late at night, Raniel van Trias closed her eyes.
What came to mind was the turning point. The memory of that day when her life and values were completely overturned. Beyond her closed eyelids, Raniel reminisced about the past.
“Hello, Raniel van Trias.”
“I’m you from the future.”
The future version of herself she had encountered three years prior.
She was a person who had experienced the future that Raniel was supposed to meet if everything had gone as it should, a person with values that were far different from those of her past self.
Raniel van Trias had an obsession that if something had to be sacrificed, it must absolutely be herself. Thus, in every situation, she only placed herself in the discard pile.
She bet her lifespan, overexerted her body, and if there came a moment when something needed to be discarded, she discarded her own life.
That was the manifestation of an extreme aversion to the sacrifice of others, the stubbornness of Raniel van Trias. But what about the self who had come from the future?
Raniel van Dragonik.
The human who had become a god was different.
She had discarded everything. Not just herself. She was unhesitant in discarding the discard pile, and if the situation called for it, she willingly let go of what she had been holding onto. She sought only efficiency.
“There is no best.”
“All I could do was avoid the worst. So that’s how I lived. I can’t even say I lived well in empty words. I’ve thrown away too much.”
Her disciple, her comrades, her juniors, all discarded.
“Really, everything was discarded.”
After reaching the end of her discards, imagining what that conclusion looked like was not difficult.
“Was this how it was discarded?”
Raniel let out a long breath.
Information delivered by Kalt. Natida had said she saw Lac die in her dreams. She met her demise while trying to stop the Sword of Yeocheon as it attempted to cross the Kirmelt Canyon.
That was not Natida’s delusion.
It must have been a future that actually occurred.
Raniel reflected on that situation from the perspective of the “Goddess of Ashes.” The Sword of Yeocheon, Kyle Toven. That would be a different existence from the Kyle Raniel had faced three years ago. It must have been a being akin to the complete awakening of the Demon Lord as the vessel of shadow.
In order to delay the approach of such a calamity, even by a single second, her future self must have willingly discarded everything.
Even if it were her precious disciple.
“……”
Raniel silently wiped her eyes.
Why now, had Natida seen such a future? The fact that a Saint had seen the future, the emergence of a Prophet, hinted at the arrival of the Death’s Blade. It didn’t seem like all this was mere coincidence.
The same stage of Kirmelt Canyon.
The same characters, Natida and Lac.
But, the character known as the “Sword of Yeocheon” simply could not exist there. If so, did it mean someone else was going to take the place of the Sword of Yeocheon? From Raniel’s perspective, that too seemed impossible.
“Ganikalt taking Kyle’s role?”
Impossible. Absolutely.
The Death’s Blade, Ganikalt does not move from ‘Gehete.’ Blocking the path to the world’s end, the temple of shadow, it will be waiting for challengers to come to it.
Then who is left?
“The King of Beasts, Barta.”
Raniel frowned.
The revived ancient calamity, King of Beasts Barta is not directly bound by contracts… However, due to connections with the traitor, his location was roughly marked on the map. Raniel spread the map wide.
A dot indicating the moving Barta.
Yet, that dot was still wandering within Phantom Territory. It was far from the Kirmelt Canyon of Galatrick. So, it was unlikely for Barta to appear at the Kirmelt Canyon but…
One can’t dismiss the possibility of a rare occurrence.
Raniel squinted her eyes, gazing at the artifacts laid out on the table. Resti warned that she couldn’t foresee what permanent side effects would remain on her body…
“It can’t be helped.”
She was prepared for that much.
2.
“Just remember that there’s a possibility of the King of Beasts appearing. To be honest, the likelihood is low, but still, you never know.”
The path leading to Kirmelt Canyon, Galatrick.
Kalt walked with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his coat. What he grasped was an artifact shaped like a cube.
“The likelihood is low.”
“But if it does appear, you know, right?”
An artifact named Gate.
Kalt, rolling the artifact in his palm, let out a long sigh. He was well aware of the side effects of this artifact.
‘…Last time it was demi-god paralysis.’
What kind of side effects would he endure this time?
No matter how resilient and quick to recover the Hero’s body was, there were limits. To Kalt, it seemed like Raniel was just continuously signing away her life.
She had always been that way since her days as the Ashen Mage.
A person who would rather grind away their own life than sacrifice someone else.
Hoping that he wouldn’t have to use this artifact, Kalt continued walking. He wasn’t sure why Raniel was in such a hurry to see this mission through, but it certainly meant she had a reason to recover the Holy Grail as soon as possible.
“Lac, you received the warning, right?”
“Yes, I remember.”
His expression more stern than usual.
Seeing Lac, whose shoulders were tense, Kalt clicked his tongue inwardly. Now that he mentioned it, wasn’t the King of Beasts said to have killed countless warriors in the north?
‘…It’s understandable to see him as an enemy.’
Sighing lightly, Kalt threw his arm over Lac’s shoulder.
“Just to preface, the probability of him appearing is small. We’re talking about a very slim chance. And even if that situation arises, Lac.”
Kalt warned softly.
“Our mission is to recover the Holy Grail, not to subdue the King of Beasts. We, the two of us… No.”
Glancing at Natida, who was following behind, looking fatigued, Kalt added.
“It won’t be possible with the three of us. The best we can do is call for the senior and leave this place.”
“…I understand.”
“Good. Judgement requires a cool head.”
Kalt gave Lac’s shoulder a light pat before leading the way. How long had they walked? With the air slowly turning cooler, they began to see the entrance of the Kirmelt Canyon.
Kirmelt Canyon, Galatrick.
However, now it had become a graveyard of countless knights, the Grave of the Sword, Galatrick. The split and crumbling canyon looked like a gigantic dragon with its mouth wide open, ready to devour.
“Ah, did you know? Lac.”
In an effort to lighten the atmosphere and ease the tension, Kalt pointed at the entrance of the canyon and said.
“The Kirmelt Canyon, that enormous canyon. There’s a story that it was artificially created? It is said that the great master swordman used his sword just once to split the canyon.”
Saying this, Kalt chuckled.
“Sounds ridiculous, right? How can you slice a canyon this big with just one swing? Impossible, absolutely.”
“…Is that so?”
“That’s right. It doesn’t make sense.”
Kalt spread his arms to gauge the width of the canyon.
“Could you really slice it in one chop? Impossible. If something could do that, it’d be something like Ganikalt, the Death’s Blade.”
Isn’t that right? Kalt turned to look at Lac.
To Kalt, it was a joke, but Lac wore an incredibly peculiar expression. It didn’t seem like he took it as a joke at all.
“…What’s wrong?”
“Nothing at all.”
3.
Since entering Kirmelt Canyon, Natida’s complexion had rapidly worsened. Her face was pale as a sheet. Though the weather wasn’t particularly cold, she kept rubbing her forearms.
“…Are you okay?”
“Yes? Ah, yes. I’m fine.”
Lac, walking next to her, shot her a concerned look. However, Natida didn’t meet Lac’s eyes and continued to stare straight ahead.
The Grave of the Sword, Galatrick.
Dozens, hundreds of broken swords were strewn about in chaos. Their owners had met death long ago. Those who couldn’t even leave behind corpses had left their swords through death.
For a swordsman, it was like a demi-god.
This place, littered with the owners’ lost swords, truly deserved to be called the Grave of the Sword.
“I’m reminded of Kuntel. He was the last survivor of this place. I never thought I’d come to see it, a place I had only heard about in stories…”
While surveying the grave, Kalt smiled bitterly.
Kuntel often spoke proudly about his hometown, his master, and his schoolmates. Now that he had arrived at the Grim Grave he had only heard of in stories, Kalt felt a sense of bitterness.
‘…I saw this place in the trial.’
Lac recalled the landscape from the Holy Grail trial. And Natida…
“Run away.”
“This is my stage.”
“I told you, I will protect you above all else.”
Was seeing a completely different landscape.
Though Natida was walking in reality with her eyes open, what her eyes reflected was the scenery from her dreams. This was the spot where Lac would meet his end in her dream.
Many had died.
She used her Sacred Magic to hold onto the knights lost to the sword’s sweep. They became puppets unable to die, charging toward the Sword of Yeocheon until they were cut to pieces and could no longer stand.
And Lac von Grace…
Stepping over the heaps of fallen knights, charged toward the Sword of Yeocheon. Already prepared for death, Lac swung his sword continuously, but it was a futile resistance.
‘Though I bought time.’
No matter how much time Lac bought, even while losing his own body to hold Yeocheon’s sword, no aid came. After all, they had been discarded.
Thus, it was meaningless.
Though he bore and endured, in the end, Lac died.
With a dull thud, his severed head rolled down the slope. Yes, that slope now before his eyes…
“Ugh!”
The moment Natida recalled Lac’s demise in the dream, she instinctively placed her palm over her mouth.
A brief gag, and a moment of dizziness.
It was too vivid to be a dream or an illusion. Lac steadied Natida’s swaying shoulders.
“…Are you really okay?”
“Ah…”
Looking at Lac standing beside her, Natida smiled bitterly. He didn’t have the many scars from her dreams, nor did he look fierce… Instead, he seemed a little foolish.
“I’m fine now.”
With a bitter smile, Natida straightened herself.
“Whew.”
After a long deep breath, Natida extended her palm to Lac. As Lac blinked, mumbling that “he couldn’t part with the Holy Sword since he had to hold onto it here,” Natida scrunched up her face.
“I’m asking for your hand, not the Holy Sword. Just your hand.”
“…My hand?”
“Yes. Do you want me to bless you or something?”
“The enemies don’t seem to be nearby yet.”
“Stop with the nonsense and give it to me.”
With a reluctant look, Lac placed his palm over hers.
Natida clasped both her hands around Lac’s and cast Sacred Magic. After a moment of brilliance, blessings seeped into Lac’s body. Much more than usual.
Drip.
Blood leaked from Natida’s nose.
Once she released Lac’s hand, she wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“Now you go. Be careful climbing that slope.”
Lac, tilting his head, walked toward the slope. The look in Kalt’s eyes, staring at him from halfway up the slope, seemed extraordinarily bitter, but Lac decided not to pay it any mind.
A slope made from debris piled up from the collapsed canyon.
Beyond this slope lay the place once known as the heart of Galatrick. It was where the shrine stood for swordsmen to face their trials.
Thud.
Lac and Kalt, reaching the top of the slope, looked down. A vast view. The ruin of the temple and the countless sword marks etched out across the land.
“Wait a minute.”
Kalt frowned.
Stretching his arm, Kalt pointed to where the sword marks converged. This was where the storm of sword strikes had begun. There, stuck in the ground, was a single sword.
A massive greatsword.
In the grave overflowing with broken swords, there was one sword that remained unbroken. As Kalt gazed at the form of the greatsword, his eyes shook profoundly.
…A bizarrely shaped sword with a hole pierced through its hilt.
It was a sword that symbolized death.
The Death’s Blade, Ganikalt’s sword was embedded at the center of the canyon.
