Chapter 176: The Festival of Swords (19)

Chapter 176: The Festival of Swords (19)

A garden of steel stretched out before them. Weapons sprouted from the ground, casting a chilly light. The entire crater seemed filled with them, with enough to number in the tens of thousands, at least.

It was just as Navirose had described. Inexperienced participants began to murmur in confusion, unable to contain their astonishment.

“Wh-what is all this? Are we supposed to find the Holy Sword here?”

“Is this magic...?”

“It feels like we’ve been possessed by ghosts. But seriously, there’s something off about these weapons, isn’t there?”

Ronan was equally bewildered. Despite living two lives, he had never witnessed such a sight. After a while of fidgeting, he asked Allogin.

“What kind of magic is this?”

“Um... just wait a moment. It seems I never quite get used to it, even after all these years.”

Fatigue was evident on Allogin’s face. The other elders and even Zaifa were in a similar state. They all looked worse for wear, as if they hadn’t slept for three days straight. Allogin took a deep breath before speaking.

“...Sorry about that. Calling forth the Sword Spirits is no small feat. It requires all seven elders to perform rituals and stay at the Holy Land.”

“Sword Spirits?”

Ronan cocked his head. It was a new term for him. Judging from the context, it seemed to be related to the rumored weapons possessed by spirits, occasionally whispered about. Weapons that could fly to you out of nowhere and stab your enemies, for example. Allogin explained further.

“Yes. Simply put, Sword Spirits are souls imbued within weapons.”

“Ah... like those weapons that move and talk on their own? Is it related to that?”

“Ah, you mean Ego Weapons. Yes, indeed. When Sword Spirits become exceptionally strong, such artifacts are born. What you’re seeing before you are the Sword Spirits of the weapons dedicated to Parzan. They’re manifestations of the Sword Spirits, beings akin to ghosts, dreaming without departing from the world, even after losing their physical forms.”

Upon hearing the term ‘ghosts’, Ronan frowned. Allogin explained that all the blade tips standing before them were ethereal. No wonder the atmosphere felt even more eerie, with the wind blowing chillier than before.

“What’s the principle behind this...? Frankly, it feels rather unsettling.”

“The exact nature isn’t fully understood. We elders speculate that it stems from the bond and attachment with the owner. But experiencing it firsthand would be quicker than explaining. Want to give it a try?”

Allogin pointed at the longsword standing before Ronan. Ronan hesitantly gripped the hilt.

“...!”

In that moment, sensations akin to electric shocks surged through his mind as scenes flashed before his eyes. A man charging through a battlefield, a sword piercing through enemy armor, screams and clashing of metal reverberating from all sides. It was like watching someone’s entire life unfold before him.

“What the hell?”

Startled, Ronan flung the sword away. As the vision abruptly ended, his vision returned to normal.

Though only a few seconds had passed in reality, it felt like an eternity had gone by. It was a sensation similar to what he had experienced in the Mental World. Swaaah! The wavering sword collapsed, dissipating into wisps of gas. Allogin chuckled, stroking his beard.

“That’s the Sword Spirit, the dreams harbored by these weapons. They reminisce about the days they shared blood with their owners. Now, let’s get started.”

“Wait a moment. So, the ritual...?”This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

“You guessed it right.”

Ronan was about to say something, but Allogin and the other elders lowered their weapons simultaneously. Allogin addressed the participants.

“You all just need to wander around this Holy Land and pick up any weapon you suspect to be the Holy Sword. If it’s not the Holy Sword, it will soon turn to vapor and disappear, so there’s no need to worry about confusion. You’re free to try as many times as you want, but be careful, every time you touch one of them, the memories of the sword will come flooding in, so choose wisely.”

Allogin explained that the ritual would continue until the sun completely set today. Judging from the color of the sky, they had roughly two to three hours left. He also emphasized the importance of caution when choosing a weapon. One of the participants raised their hand to ask a question.

“What does the influx of memories have to do with how many times we draw?”

At that moment, a familiar voice came from behind. Ronan was genuinely startled as he hadn’t sensed anyone approaching. He cleared his throat and turned his head. Lynn stood there, her lush white hair fluttering in the breeze.

“Geez, you scared me.”

“Aren’t you looking for the Holy Sword?”

Lynn smirked. Her characteristic poker face and dry tone were subtly annoying. Ronan turned his head back to look below the mountain.

“Mind your own business. If I were the chosen one, I would have found it long ago.”

“Your attitude is terrible. Even if you succeed in life, you won’t be able to call yourself a gentleman.”

“I have no interest in listening.”

Ronan waved his hand dismissively. He had no interest in searching for the Holy Sword in the first place, so he planned to waste time and then leave. Looking at Ronan’s back, Lynn approached him at a slow pace. Then, naturally, she sat down on Ronan’s lap.

“I’m baffled by you.”

Ronan chuckled. This was another unexpected turn of events. Ronan lowered his gaze to see her casually resting the back of her head against his chest.

“Your behavior is quite unbecoming of a lady.”

“The meaning of life lies in doing what you want.”

“I see. It’s heavy, so get down, lady.”

Lynn didn’t budge. Ronan sighed as if he had expected this, then gently grabbed Lynn’s hips and lowered her to his side. It wasn’t heavy at all, but he was bothered by the fact that she always ended up staining his pants with blood. She stuck her tongue out slightly, as if pouting.

“You’re mean.”

“Noisy. If you were looking for the Holy Sword, why did you come here?”

“Because of my heart.”

Ronan chuckled incredulously. Lynn said she hadn’t touched a single one, and Ronan replied that it was the same for him. Sitting side by side, the two of them watched the sunset in silence.

The day was coming to an end. The setting sun contrasted with the pale full moon, creating a surreal scene. Clouds scattered like torn wool seemed to ripen like autumn leaves. Lynn took a deep breath and spoke.

“I guess you like sunsets.”

“Hmm... maybe. I used to dislike them, but now they’re not so bad.”

Ronan nodded. For him, the sunset wasn’t just a simple natural phenomenon. It was the last scenery he saw before his death. Lynn asked.

“Why?”

“Just... someone I know once gave a unique explanation that I liked. They said it was the final struggle of the dying sun.”

“Final struggle? Interesting.”

“Yeah. They said the sun burns red because it’s struggling to stay alive, like searching for firewood to keep the flames going. I don’t know why, but I liked that explanation.”

It was a conversation shared on the Hill of the Four Seasons with Adeshan. It was a memory of late summer youth that he hadn’t experienced in his previous life. It was hard to believe that it had already been two years. Ronan joyfully explained what had happened at the time. Lynn, seeing his determined eyes soften slightly, chuckled.

“Hmm. So that’s the person Navirose was talking about. It won’t be easy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. I guess it’s better than some guy who flirts around. But there’s something I’m curious about. A very, very important question.”

She suddenly turned her head and faced Ronan. Her eyes, as white as her hair, felt transparent beyond clarity. She had always seemed mysterious to him. But why did she want to ask such an important question, even using “very, very” twice? Lynn spoke up.

“The Holy Sword. Would you like to have it?”