Chapter 148

CHAPTER 148. The Sword God (劍神) Sleeps Here

“Ugh, what’s gotten into him this time?”

Leaving Aster to sulk as he trudged away, Shine continued on his path.

He had no way of knowing what had soured Aster’s mood now. Then again, the man always viewed the world with such a warped perspective—who could ever really guess what was churning inside his head?

“Hmph. On a day this significant, when the hierarchy is finally being restored to order.”

Shaking off the lingering irritation, Shine walked toward the Sword God’s Tomb with a light, purposeful stride.

“Hmm. So this is it?”

“Yes.”

The attendant offered a respectful bow.

Before stepping into the Sword God’s Tomb, Shine surveyed the surroundings.

“It looks rather meager, doesn’t it?”

The Sword God’s Tomb looked exactly like a damp descent into an underground dungeon.

It was a stingy, pathetic exterior for a place bearing the grand title of “Sword God’s Tomb.”

Perhaps sensing Shine’s unfavorable assessment, the attendant who had guided him there in silence spoke up with a trace of awkwardness.

“There was quite a bit of debate even within the family, but… ultimately, it was the 13th Head of House’s dying wish, so…”

Even as he explained, the attendant felt foolish for offering excuses, but he quickly understood why he felt compelled to do so.

“Naturally.”

“…Excuse me?”

“He was always a man of humble temperament.”

“What do you mean by—”

“Nothing. Just rambling.”

The attendant looked up at Shine with a strange expression.

Shine wore armor that was dusky and soot-stained.

His face was obscured, yet his aura felt profoundly lonely.

Coupled with the natural, effortless authority he projected, the attendant found himself drawn into that peculiar atmosphere.

Once that impression settled, the attendant realized that Shine’s demeanor had been odd throughout the entire walk.

He hadn’t spoken much, but… yes. It was as if he were unearthing memories from a bygone era.

“By any chance… have you visited Rortel before?”

The attendant realized it was a ridiculous question as soon as the words left his lips, and Shine offered a faint, melancholy smile.

“Hardly.”

And yet, why was it?

His response felt unusually hollow—as if he were longing for a time that could never be reclaimed.

As the attendant’s skepticism deepened amidst the odd mood, Shine broke the silence.

“Let’s head inside. Are you accompanying me?”

“Ah, no. This is where I take my leave.”

The attendant tore his gaze away from Shine and shook his head.

“Oh, and you must remember the conditions I mentioned earlier.”

“No damaging the site, no recording, and don’t stay more than a day, at most. That is correct, right?”

“Yes.”

“Understood. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Very well, then…”

The attendant unlocked the entrance with the key he had carried and stepped back.

Shine stood before the stone stairs, peering into the deep, suffocating darkness.

For a long moment, he simply stared.

“Ah—could you fetch me a single flower?”

“I could, but why a flower—”

“Never mind. There’s no need to go out of your way.”

Shine plucked a stray wildflower growing near the threshold.

“I’m heading in.”

Holding the lone wildflower loosely, Shine stepped into the abyss.

It was indeed a shabby place, but knowing his personality, he likely wouldn’t have cared.

“……”

The attendant watched Shine in silence.

It didn’t take long for him to grasp the intention behind that flower.

“A man carrying a funeral flower (弔花) into the Sword God’s Tomb… that’s a first, isn’t it?”

At the very least, it was the first time in all the years he had been assigned to oversee the Sword God’s Tomb.

As it was common knowledge, the Sword God’s Tomb—or the Hall of Trials, as it was properly called—consisted of three distinct phases.

The first of them.

The stepping stones.

Shine stood in a chamber filled with water, resembling a vast pool, and cast his gaze forward.

“You really… put some effort into this.”

He had wondered why a dignified name like Sword God’s Tomb was bypassed for “Hall of Trials,” but witnessing the setup before him, he finally understood.

This wasn’t so much a “tomb” as it was a gateway.

Regardless.

Shine shifted his focus to the platforms floating at precise intervals.

The way to clear the first gate seemed straightforward.

“Do I just cross by stepping on those floating stones?”

Probably. They wouldn’t have placed these arbitrary platforms there for no reason.

Of course, a man of Shine’s caliber could have easily cleared the distance in a single leap, but rather than jumping immediately, he remained still and intently studied the gaps between the stones.

He recognized a familiar pattern.

After a few moments—

“…Tch.”

Shine clicked his tongue, clearly displeased.

“What a petty bastard.”

He pushed off the ground and surged forward, jumping from one floating stone to the next across the water.

His movements were fluid and decisive.

He never faltered or fell into the water—he traversed the path as if he had memorized the sequence long ago.

When he reached the far side, Shine glanced back.

Hahahaha! You idiot. How is it you can’t even mimic Rortel’s footwork as well as I can? Hm? Watch closely. This genius will teach it to a dullard like you.

“Even if you killed me, I refused to walk like that…”

After ruminating on the memory for a brief moment, Shine put the first gate behind him and pressed on.

Then, the second phase.

Shine gazed into a stone chamber with a circle etched into its floor.

Magic circles and various Artifacts were mounted along the stone walls; the purpose of this stage was just as clear as the last.

Stand within the circle and hold your ground for a set amount of time.

“This… is a drill I performed countless times.”

Shine moved into the center of the circle.

Moments later, mana-infused arrows began firing from the Artifacts from every conceivable angle.

Pibibibibit!

Shine observed the barrage of projectiles closing in on him.

Azure streaks of light mirrored in his crimson irises.

Chaeng—!

Shine’s blade sliced through the air.

His initial strike was a soft, graceful curve.

A flowing, liquid-like arc sheared through the incoming mana arrows, occasionally batting them away, or sometimes letting them glide past harmlessly.

There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in that motion.

As if… it were an elegant sword dance (劍舞).

And when that chaotic flurry of steel subsided—

Click, thud—!

With a harsh, metallic groan, the door to the final stage groaned open.

Shine didn’t move immediately. He stood still, scanning his surroundings.

A long-forgotten memory flickered through his mind.

It was a moment he had completely discarded, but as he moved his blade in harmony with the trajectory of the mana arrows, the recollection returned.

Ah, that’s not how you swing a sword. Here—look. I’ll personally open your eyes. It’s Rortel’s swordsmanship, but I’ve reinterpreted it, so… yes. Call it the Shine style.

Reflecting on it now…

“I really did torment you quite a bit.”

Whenever there was an exchange between Rortel and Lehmann, it almost always played out this way.

I would swipe the swordsmanship he had painstakingly learned after just one look, then add my own flair and flaunt it in his face.

Childish.

“I didn’t even grasp the true core of the secret art… I just made the exterior look flashy.”

As that humiliating past resurfaced, Shine hissed a curse under his breath.

“Damn fool.”

Shine shook his head once and proceeded to the final stage.

Now, the much-anticipated concluding test.

In truth, the first and second stages were gates anyone—not just a dedicated trainee—could pass with enough persistence.

Of course, if one failed to recognize the secret encoded in the stone placements or the specific path the sword should take, it was hardly easy, but they still lacked the sophistication to distinguish a true master.

So.

“So this is the real one…”

Shine stood in the final stone chamber and looked around.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the room.

“There’s nothing here.”

There was no explicit trial presented like the previous two gates, and no path leading further.

It was entirely hollow.

If there was anything peculiar at all, it was the sun emblem carved into the wall directly across from the entry. Even that wasn’t entirely unusual.

The sun was Rortel’s crest.

“Hmm…”

Just as Shine emitted that low, thoughtful hum—

A mechanism ascended from the center of the empty chamber.

Grgrgk—

“This is…”

After inspecting the stone slab intently, Shine tilted his head.

“Is this asking me to place my palm on it?”

Just as Shine was about to press his hand against the hand-shaped indentation on the slab—

A line of carved text drew his attention.

The sun does not set.

“……”

The sun does not set.

It was a mantra Rortel’s clansmen frequently used as a metaphor to mean, “Rortel’s power is eternal,” but Shine just tilted his head in confusion.

“What? And what am I supposed to do with that?”

For now, he pressed his palm onto the slab and funneled Aether into it.

Immediately, a surge of blistering air filled the room.

Tsuzuz—

The sun emblem began to radiate, and the temperature skyrocketed, becoming scalding. The heat grew so intense that even Shine struggled to maintain his composure.

The more Aether he poured into the device, the more the temperature climbed toward an unbearable threshold.

Shine pulled his hand away from the slab, reverted his heated armor back into shadows, and scowled deeply.

“Don’t tell me this bastard…”

Is he telling me to burn in hell?

“Because I teased him so relentlessly?”

But that thought was fleeting.

“Hoo… you’ve been corrupted by that crafty one.”

The world wasn’t entirely rotten.

No—maybe it was, but not everyone was the same as that sly man. Could it be that, entrusted with a Demon Sword (魔劍), he had spent his time engaging in stubborn, infantile theatrics like “Rortel is supreme!”?

Yet—

“It’s… plausible, though.”

Even if he did what was required, annoying someone wasn’t exactly out of his character.

The Shamid from his memories hadn’t been like that, but one could never predict how a man’s personality might evolve over time.

“I really should have beaten him more thoroughly—no, wait.”

A memory suddenly struck Shine.

The sun does not set.

“Did that bastard ever actually say that?”

He searched through his recollections, but no.

As a child, he’d recited it like a broken record whenever he lost… but after a specific event, he had stopped.

The sun does not set.

But you lost.

…….

“I simply… didn’t like the look in your eyes.”

So I hit him.

Taking advantage of a moment when the elders of both houses were occupied elsewhere, I told him I’d break him of his bad habits and gave him a proper thrashing.

One blow for every time he dared to talk back.

“And then… what did I say?”

Ah. That’s right.

If you spout that ‘sun’ nonsense in front of me one more time, you’re going to die. Understand?

…….

Answer.

The sun do—khk!

A memory from when both he and Shamid were just children.

When that surfaced—

Shine lifted his gaze toward the sun carving on the wall.

“……”

If Shamid were standing before him right now… and if he started spouting that sun garbage to his face again, what would he do?

He couldn’t say.

He was a vampire who had crashed into the future, and Shamid was a Clan Head resting in a tomb.

But if it were the past, some two hundred years ago, then likely…

Step. Step.

Shine stood before the sun emblem and glared at the wall.

A short, sharp breath.

And—

Bang!

His fist exploded into the wall.

He didn’t stop at one strike.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He continued until the wall bearing the sun was completely shattered. Over and over—striking, punching, and hammering away in a destructive fury.

“Yeah. This is it.”

If Shamid were here, he would have grabbed him and beaten him down just like this.

When the wall finally collapsed entirely—

Pasaseu—

Through the settling stone dust, a hidden space was revealed.

“Just as I thought. This was the answer.”

Smiling with a sense of fulfillment, Shine walked into the hidden chamber.

Two stone markers stood before him.

“Two markers…?”

Shine used a burst of Aether to clear the lingering dust, then focused on one of the markers. And as he read the opening lines—

“……”

Shine’s eyes darted back to the beginning.

And he read it again.

Shine von Lehmann.

My friend who shone the most brightly.

The Sword God sleeps here.

As if burning the words into his very soul—

Over and over, he read them.