Sword Pilgrim-Novel

It was a dark night, with even the moonlight covered by clouds.

Several candles placed on the floor were the only source of light in the darkness that enveloped the hall.

At their centre, was Callius.

Placed next to him was a sword.

Silently kneeling, as if in deep contemplation, controlling his breathing, he was still as stone[1].

A minute passed, then ten, then an hour. Finally, Callius moved, as his divine power bloomed and his aura surged.

His eyes were staring into empty air, but the image of a man was reflected in his retinas.

The bastard who’d provoked him in the past, with a mane of fluttering sun-coloured hair.

Lutheon, a traitor and apostate of the Order.

Callius’ aura expanded.

All the dozens of candles around him were extinguished one by one, until the last remaining candle also puffed out.

Callius threw his sword away.

The candles that had been extinguished earlier, ate up the smoke and began burning again.

Rivulets of sweat ran down his cheeks and wet the hall floor.

“Damn it.”

It didn't go well.

What didn’t, exactly?

Of course, it was Other Shore Flower.

There were several steps needed to execute it.

First, build a Raging Flower Wave.

Next, unfold a White Haze.

Finally pierce the mysterious bridge between the two, and envelop and unite it with your sword.

Although it resembled a sword boundary, it wasn’t – it contained a complex force of repulsion in condensed form, made to collide with the opponent's divine power and detonate.

That, was the Other Shore Flower.

But it took too long to execute.

There were too many preparatory movements and techniques.

It was of course a brilliant technique even with that, but since Callius had already achieved it once, he now wanted to master it.

To be able to freely execute it, without the overly long preparatory sequence.

“I think I might get a clue about the fourth peak once I master this…”

It wasn't just greed in his part.

Callius had climbed to the third peak of the Six Peak Flowers technique a while ago, but he’d made no further progress since then.

Because it was needlessly difficult.

Ever since leaving the North, he’d regularly been trying to gather his spirit power into his belly, but he’d never found a way to climb to the fourth peak.

It was difficult.

Callius dearly missed the help of the Death Verse Composition.

He’d even considered artificially creating a near-death situation, but since he had no holy water on hand, he’d shelved the idea.

The situation was supremely frustrating, to say the least.

“The wall is too high.”

He remembered the feeling at that time.

The sensations he’d felt when he’d killed the orc general, was still indelibly etched into his hands.

Yet without that strange state of enlightenment, he’d failed in every attempt to properly recreate it.

“There’s still no progress.”

His path was blocked by a high wall.

Unlike his complaints which only grew with time, Callius’ growth had stagnated.

Of course, his strength had risen remarkably higher compared to his time in the North, but he was still hungry for more, and it was as if he could smell a luxurious banquet just a little further along his path.

A sturdy wall was blocking the way.

He just needed to break it down.

Then he would go forth and feast!

“But how? This just isn’t working.”

Callius slumped back on the floor, sitting cross-legged.

He’d been thinking.

[Six Peak Flowers – Three Peaks].

There were now three strong buds in his elixir field, and inside them was the seed of a defeated God.

He’d been wondering if there was a way to exploit it further, but to no avail.

He never missed a day of practice, and he tried to activate it whenever he had free time, but so far there’d been no significant result.

It was quiet as if its role had been fulfilled. To be honest, he didn't know even now what the seed actually was.

It’d disappeared as if it had been completely absorbed.

Wondering whether it lay dormant within the three peaks, he’d tried again and again to access it, but there’d been no response.

Callius wished someone would let him know what its actual deal was.

“Let’s do some training.”

Callius again concentrated on the three peaks in his elixir field.

Or rather, the veins between them.

The veins –

Were the circular pathways that connected the buds of the three peaks, like a stem.

If he focused his spiritual power upon it, that stem would grow and dig into his whole body as if it were alive.

From his elixir field, it would start radiating outwards, following the passages of his divine blood.

Like the roots of a tree.

“But there’s a limit.”

It was limited in its reach.

Right now, it reached his solar plexus at best.

That was all.

And once he released his focus, the stem of the veins would fade once again, and sink back into his elixir field.

Once again connecting the three peaks in a circle.

Though several trials, Callius had already verified the effect and effectiveness of the veins.

“Once I activate the veins, my cycling of divine power becomes faster and denser.”

Divine power, is drawn from the outside.

It enters the body through the sacred orifice, and if the veins are there to facilitate the cycle, the circulating speed and density can double, or even triple.

Meaning the system can handle twice or thrice the load.

That’s how insanely efficient the veins are.

The purity of divine power is of course a boon.

And the circulation speed being much faster, makes it useful in high-speed combat.

If you’re quicker to circulate your power, you can move and act a step ahead compared to your opponent.

You can also shorten the time to gather your physical and spiritual power for an explosive surge, with the help of the three peaks blooming.

Callius’ mastery of the spirit veins hadn’t reached its limits yet, so as he continued to practice, his horizons should gradually expand.

“Huff.”

Callius gathered his thoughts and brought out a silver cup from his bosom.

The items he’d obtained from the North were all in a set.

He’d given Emily one of the three sacred stones, so there were only two left now.

He planned to consume these two once he was confident in breaking through the wall he was facing.

But he didn't know how to use the last item.

A silver chalice.

It was the holy grail of a defeated God.

“What even is this?”

What was its use?

Holy grails were legendary for their power of purification, but there’d been no response when he’d poured some water into it.

Even with blood, there’d been no reaction.

Suddenly, all around became bright.

While he’d been lost in thought, the night had passed and the sun was rising over the mountains.

“It’s tiring to practice all alone. There’s no point if I’m not making any progress, either.”

Having a teacher would’ve been great, but there was nobody here who deserved to teach him.

To be honest, he could be proud of himself.

“What’s old Bernard doing, I wonder?”

Nostalgia took hold of him for a moment, but then Callius shook his head and got up.

‘Even the old man would find it difficult to help.'

Because he now only had a single arm.

“By the way, I think the duel is today?”

Ever since arriving in the capital, he hadn’t moved his body properly.

Since the lieutenant was begging for a fight, Callius decided to give him a beating first, but he’d have to figure out his future prospects for training afterwards.

“Should I write a letter when I’m done?”

That old man –

He might’ve been scolding his wayward disciple who hadn’t sent back a single letter.

“Really, that guy, he’s never going to learn any manners.”

“That’s just how Dad is.”

While looking at the prospective knight candidates wielding their swords, Bernard cursed Callius while Emily was by his side.

Emily had no reaction at all to her father being cursed at.

She just stared at her peers training, her hands crossed under her chin, as if bored.

“Anybody here who can give you a fight?”

“Not in my age group, no.”

“The Jervains your age should be a little different?”

“They’re similar.”

Come to think of it, this was a child who’d fought orcs on the battlefield.

It was normal that her peers couldn’t satisfy her.

“Hmm, if he hasn’t gotten involved in anything useless, he should’ve reached the capital by now. Why hasn’t there been any contact? Emily, poor lass, you don’t feel like he’s abandoned you again, right?”

"Not really. It doesn’t matter."

“You know, it’s nice to hear you call him ‘Dad’. Do you call him that in your head? If Callius ever heard you call him that in public he’d go wild. Kahaha!”

“Stop drinking. It smells.”

“It’s holy water, I tell you! Holy water! Knock it off!”

“Kaha–! This taste makes life worth it.”

“You do nothing but drink every day. If you’ve got nothing else to do, please fight me."

“Do you want to fight an old man with only one arm left?”

“You’re still strong, aren’t you?”

“All right, all right, little girl.”

Bernard emptied the bottle and let out a breath.

“Emily. tell me something. Do you know where Rivan and Rinney have gone?”

“Why?”

“Just curious. It doesn't matter if you tell me now, you know. No matter where they go, they won't be able to hide that they are Jervains."

The black hair and the grey pupils couldn't be hidden so easily.

“They didn’t specifically come and tell me before they left. I just have a rough idea.”

“So, where did they go?”

“They left because they thought they were going to die otherwise.”

"So, where?"

To the capital of Carpe.

“They’ve followed him?”

“They thought that’d be the only way to survive. Because there was no one in the North to give them shelter.”

“And Callius would?”

“He won’t kill them, at least.”

“Why didn’t you go too?”

"I… I said I was going to wait.”

The eyes of the girl with her head bowed were filled with longing for her father.

“That bastard won’t come back anytime soon. If you keep waiting, you might be an old maid before he does, you know?"

"Then… should I go too?”

At the same time –

I frowned.

“Greeting, Sir Heir of Jervain.”

“Shouldn’t we call him Count, now?”

“He’s a captain of the Heretic Inquisition. Captain would be more appropriate."

From the left, Orphin de Liofen.

Rinney von Jervain.

And finally, Rivan von Jervain.

“We aren’t inquisitors though. So we should call him Count.”

“Since the young lady is also a Jervain, wouldn’t Heir be better?”

“Count is the best to use in public, since it’s the highest title.”

"All right. Then, Count.”

Orphin knelt down, and following her, Rivan and Rinny also knelt together.

“Please accept us.”

This was a symbolic action.

Signifying allegiance for nobility.

However –

"Denied."

"Then…! It’s fine if it’s not me! But the two of them…”

“What about them?”

“They have nowhere to go.”

“What, did they forget the North where they were born and raised? Just go back there again.”

“Then we will die.”

Rinney begged.

Had she grown taller? I hadn't seen her for a few months, but she seemed to have grown a little.

“Why would you die for no reason? You are a Jervain!”

Even if from a branch line, they were still Jervains.

Who'd dare kill one?

In the North, only the beasts and the orcs would dare harm a Jervain.

“We'll probably die by the hand of the Jervain family.”

Killed by the family?

I hadn't considered that.

“You know what they call us? Jervain's shame! Son and daughter of a traitor. The knights who used to shower with us gifts, now frown every time they see us.”

“Jervain’s blood runs cold.”

The Jervain coat of arms was symbolic of that, in a sense.

Useless bloodlines would be pruned off.

The faces of these children were reminders of the traitor who had carved his shame on the flawless mien of Jervain.

To be honest, the original Callius had been a direct bloodline descendant so it was different for him, but it was common for Jervains to kill each other.

There was a chance that the family elders themselves might come forward and erase them.

‘Come to think of it, the patriarch told me to take care of them, but I forgot and came straight down south.'

There were so many things on my plate that I’d plain forgotten about the matter.

"Please!"

"Please!!"

“P-, please.”

Except for Rivan, for whom kneeling seemed to be hurting his self-esteem, the others looked very pathetic as they begged.

As I was contemplating what to do, Bruns pulled up a wagon.

“Woohoo! Eh? What’s all this?”

That idiotic voice broke the solemn atmosphere.

“Get up immediately. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

"What…”

I scratched the bridge of my nose.

“The lieutenant of my squad has applied for a spar with me.”

“I will go too!”

"Me too…”

“Can we go together?”

“No, the carriage is too small to fit all of us…”

While saying that, I actually took a look, and –

“… You brought something pointlessly large.”

Bruns had borrowed a far too large wagon for no reason.

“I did good, right? If they see this, even the inquisitors will once again realize your magnificence, Boss!”

He was being spectacularly useless, as usual.

“Tch. Just drive.”

"Yeah!!"

Editor's Notes:

[1] 망부석 (lit. dead wife stone), from a Korean legend about a faithful wife who waited so long for her distant husband to return that she turned into a fossil.