CH 74

༺ Masterpiece ༻

It was just one of those moments.

When people become so accustomed to repeated failures that they simply accept it, saying, ‘That’s just how it is’ even after failing again.

It’s the moment when that so-called failure becomes a habit, and they start to regard it as a natural occurrence.

The resulting emotion is usually a sense of futility.

So, if you’re wondering why these words are being said… well, naturally, it’s because Renee was currently drowning in such an emotion.

Clang—! (Courage—!)1

The sound of a hammer echoed throughout the forge, signaling that Dovan had begun working.

As Renee sat side by side with Vera in the forge’s backyard, listening to that sound, she felt a sigh suddenly escape her lips.

‘That’s just how it is…’

Her relationship with Vera hadn’t progressed at all.

Renee had spent the entire morning imagining all sorts of things while hoping for progress in their relationship, but felt a deep sense of hopelessness because Vera continued treating her the same as always, and because she just let herself be lulled into a false sense of security.

Oh, how do I even express this?

While Renee had been thinking about wanting a deeper relationship with Vera, there came a time when she was afraid their relationship would fall apart, and instead found solace in the thought of, ‘at least we haven’t drifted apart yet’. It was hard for her to express the futility that came from the unchanging state of their relationship.

At that thought, Renee suddenly felt angry.

‘…No, of course Vera would act that way.’

It was anger towards herself.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know what kind of person Vera was, but despite knowing that, it was only natural that she had to make the first move because of her one-sided love throughout all these years. She was just being angry at herself for her lack of courage out of shyness.

It was a situation where at most, she could only hold his hand tighter, or walk closer than usual. 

Even those were things she couldn’t do for more than 10 minutes before her heart started racing, and she would return to her original sense of distance. It was as if this suffocating feeling in her chest was about to turn into some sort of anger depression illness.

Clang—! (Courage—!)

In the middle of all those overwhelming emotions, the hammering continued.

Renee listened to the sound for a while, and gently bit her lips, thinking of what to say next.

My own courage.

She worried that at any moment, her resolve to appeal to Vera in any way would crumble as she used the rising anger as fuel.

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, her lips pursed, and her hands that were fidgeting throughout, clenched into fists.

Vera kept staring at Renee as she was riddled with worry.

As Vera watched her every move, he found himself thinking that for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her today.

Her expression continued to change every passing second, like she was worried about something, until she eventually started groaning.

There was something about all those little gestures along with the overlap of her from the night before when she asked him to stay by her side that caught his eye.

And yet, Vera wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling himself.

It was one of those mornings where Vera’s gaze never left Renee, but Renee’s groans only grew worse and worse, unaware of that fact.

***

Clang—!

The hammer struck, making a noise, and the impact from the hammer traveled up the hammer and shook his entire body. As his skin burned from the heat, ragged breaths came out.

It should have been difficult work, but Dovan didn’t feel any fatigue in his body’s current state.

One reason may have been because he was used to this job already. Another reason may have been because his entire mind was focused on a single thought, and he had no time to care about such minor matters. 

Clang—!

Sparks went flying, and the shape of the pure white iron changed accordingly.

What filled Dovan’s mind as he continued to hammer away, striking at the sword, was ‘intent’, recalling the image of a man who had left alone with a sword in hand.

Clang—!

-To protect.

It was the upright, unwavering belief of a man with a knight’s dignity, who had come face to face with sincerity.

Clang-!

At that moment, Dovan felt the sincerity that man had encountered, burning deep down within the depths of his heart.

Desire would be a more fitting word. As he faced that determination without a single doubt remaining, Dovan felt the deep desire to somehow refine that ineffable belief into something tangible.

Clang—!

There was only that desire.

His pride as a blacksmith, his greed to leave behind a great masterpiece, and all other minor things were erased from his head as he struck down with the hammer, only a single desire in mind.

Clang—!

As though he had fallen into a trance…

He simply struck.

Dovan continued to strike the sword for a long time, clearing his mind of all thoughts and focusing only on that single desire.

Clang—!

And so, a masterpiece that would be talked about for ages to come was being born in a shabby forge hidden away in a remote corner of the continent.

***

The sword was entirely pure white.

It was a sword that brought to mind a white radiance; a sword that would shine alone even in the darkest night.

A straight sword with a very basic form, lacking any embellishments.

The sword felt rough at first glance, but Vera felt an emotion that could only be described as awe as he held it.

“…This.”

His words trailed off without going on for long.

The sword that Dovan completed and gave to him was…

“Somehow, it just turned out this way.”

It was a masterpiece.

There wasn’t anything grand or special.

Rather, the moment he held the sword, an infinitely abstract belief arose within him that this was a ‘completed sword’.

It didn’t show off, nor hide itself.

Dovan’s masterpiece was simply there, radiating a white brilliance.

Vera shifted his gaze towards Dovan. His face was covered in fatigue, but at the same time, he looked more alive than ever.

Vera made a blank expression as he stared at the face that seemed to have transcended.

Dovan laughed at Vera’s surprised appearance, which he could tell at a glance, then continued.

“Thanks to you, I was able to complete it. With this, I’ve rid myself of all my remaining regrets.”

It was a natural courtesy because this man’s virtue was the reason Dovan could overcome that anxiety, the lingering regret that could be called his own stubbornness.

Still, Vera had a blank expression on his face at those words of gratitude.

In the strange silence where no words followed, Aisha, who had been listening to the entire conversation, cried out with an energetic voice.

“You should be more grateful! You received Master’s masterpiece as a gift!”

She said those words pridefully, as though she had done it herself. Her expression was full of arrogance, and her shoulders were tense with energy. Her ears were perked, and her tail stretched straight up.

She looked like a lively, youthful girl that perfectly matched her age.

And only after Vera saw Aisha’s appearance, and the white sword, did he realize…

That he had changed the future.

There would no longer be any Demon Sword spewing resentment across the continent, nor the original swordsman harboring that resentment who had been wielding that sword.

Instead, there would be an old blacksmith and a young girl to fill that empty position.

An indescribable emotion welled up within Vera. It was a feeling that arose the moment he realized what he had protected.

Vera was someone who had always been robbed of everything, someone who had only known of viciousness. But now, at this moment, he felt his heart surging with the tangible proof that he had taken a step forward.

Of course, it wasn’t all good news. 

There was one less hero to confront the Demon King. The Federation of Kingdoms’ conflict had yet to end. And with the seat that was left empty by Aisha, the future would steer in a direction unknown to him.

It was an appropriate moment to worry, but Vera didn’t.

It was because he learned something from this experience.

‘…What I can do.’

No matter what situations may arise, he only had to give his all with what he could.

If the master of the Demon Sword, Aisha Dragnov, wasn’t there, then he would have to fill the void with something even bigger.

If the future was unknown, then he would carve out his own path when the time came.

In a way, it was only natural.

Who else in the world would move forward with certainty about the future? If one needed to be certain about the future in order to move forward, then what could be more foolish and cowardly than that?

With that in mind, Vera stood in front of that naturality and said.

“…What should I call this sword?”

He turned his attention towards Dovan.

Standing in the face of that naturality, in the same position as the others, Dovan answered.

“Sir Vera must decide. You are the one who will wield that sword.”

“Is that okay?”

“It’s something you must do.”

Dovan smiled.

“It should be defined by what the one who wields the sword fights for. So, Sir Vera, please give it a name.”

Dovan said, and waited for Vera’s response.

It felt right to him that the sword he forged for the man in front of him, should be named to match the path that man would walk, and for what he wanted to do.

As if Vera finished thinking of his words, he looked at Dovan, who was waiting for his answer, and then at the sword.

For what purpose will I wield this for?

A doubt came to mind, and then his answer emerged.

‘My duty, the noblest cause.’

It was a sword that he would wield to protect that cause, to safeguard what was behind him.

A sword he would wield for the longing he had held in his heart throughout this life.

His thoughts continued.

Memories of his previous life flashed through his mind.

Now that the Demon Sword wielded by Aisha Dragnov would no longer exist, there needed to be a replacement.

“…The Holy Sword.”

So, Vera decided on an arrogant and simple name.

“Holy Sword, is it?”

Since the Demon Sword that had left resentment in its wake was now gone, it would only be right to have a Holy Sword in its place, one that he would wield with belief in the future he desired.

Vera shifted his eyes towards Dovan, and Dovan met his gaze.

Dovan asked.

“For what purpose will you wield the Holy Sword for?”

It was a question asking how his masterpiece would be defined.

At that, Vera answered.

“It’s a sword that will be wielded for the sake of the duty that I believe to be right.”

It wasn’t a simple, straightforward answer.

Vera knew better than anyone in the world the emptiness of a mere oath, and added tangible proof to his words.

It wasn’t simply a verbal promise. It was a proof that was supported by examples and evidence.

Vera knelt down carefully, holding the sword on one knee, and said.

“I vow.”

He unleashed his power.

“I will wield this sword for the noblest cause, and never for evil nor unrighteousness.”

And shackled himself.

“If I ever wield this sword for an unrighteous cause, then I will never hold this sword again.”

The oath was complete.

There was no compensation set.

According to Vera’s thoughts, there was no such duty that expects a reward for doing what is right.

Dovan’s eyes widened, and Aisha gasped.

Vera stared at the sword he had named the Holy Sword.

The pure white sword had been permeated with the oath he made with a firm heart.

A golden radiance arose, and on the blade shone a pattern resembling the Stigma of the Oath before vanishing.

The Holy Sword cried out, ever so slightly.

Vera smiled slightly at the cry that had crept into the depths of his heart.