A radiant light flared up around Lydia as she gathered her divine energy. She gasped in surprise. The power was far beyond anything she had ever experienced before.
With the power she had just absorbed from the sword, Lydia could now fully consecrate the weapons and armor of at least three people.
"What if you absorb the sword's power a few more tis?" Sylas asked.
"Then I should be able to consecrate all of our weapons," Lydia replied confidently.
"Good. In that case, perform the consecrations at lunchti, again in the evening, and one more ti tomorrow morning. We can't keep dancing to the demon's tune, so let's prepare for the final battle tomorrow."
"Yes!" Lydia nodded vigorously. In a situation where everything had seed bleak, they finally had a glimr of hope.
Sylas left the room to inform the Corleone family's group about the plan. As soon as he was gone, the cursed sword began to tremble and hum nervously.
"You're not planning to keep feeding that woman my essence, are you?" the sword groaned.
"So what if I am?" Sylas responded coolly.
"S-stop! If you do that, my power will weaken even more! Do you want to die, enveloped in the demon's mist, like that sword over there?"
Sylas remained unfazed. "You're hardly any help, so I might as well use you for doping."
The cursed sword shuddered violently at Sylas's cold tone. After a mont, it spoke in a voice twisted with desperation.
"Fine... I'll make a concession."
"What now?" Sylas asked, raising an eyebrow.
"In the upcoming battle, wield my power freely. It would be better for you to fight with my strength than to rely on that saint. You want that, don't you?"
The sword was practically begging now, pushing Sylas to take the deal. Sylas looked at the sword for a mont before breaking into a faint smile.
"Where do you get off trying to negotiate? Just shut up and prepare to be consud. Soon, you'll be a tasty snack."
"W-wait...!"
Ignoring the sword's frantic pleas, Sylas waited for the energy absorption to continue. Monts later, the cursed sword scread once again.
Sylas and Ulrich spent their day walking around the city, eting the people. One of the reasons the count had sent them in the first place was to calm the fears of the anxious citizens. The people, who had nearly lost all hope, wept openly when they saw the sons of their lord.
"Young master, will we really survive this?"
"Don't worry. We ca here to protect you. If we can't save you, we'll bury our bones here with you."
"Thank you... even just hearing those words is enough."
Moved by Sylas's comforting words, the townspeople bowed their heads, tears streaming down their faces. They had always thought of the nobles as distant figures, high and mighty, far removed from their daily struggles. But now, here were the lord's sons, willing to risk their lives alongside them. It brought the people to tears of gratitude.
Ulrich clicked his tongue softly at the sight.
"You've gotten good at this, despite having no prior experience. You're a natural," he muttered.
"I'm only doing what I must. It's what Father asked of ," Sylas replied, but Ulrich's expression didn't soften.
Though Ulrich had hoped to assert his authority during this mission, Sylas was increasingly becoming the leader of their group. The balance of power had shifted.
"I'll leave this area to you. I'll check the other side."
"Understood. Be careful."
"I can handle myself. Sir Ray is with ," Ulrich replied, slightly curtly. Sylas smirked. It seed Ulrich was becoming more and more comfortable showing his true feelings, now that his usual facade was no longer working. The day when Ulrich would reveal his genuine self without hesitation was not far off.
"Young master, you're really here..." a villager murmured.
"Sit down. You must be exhausted after all the suffering caused by the demon," Sylas replied, continuing to reassure the people after Ulrich had left. Most of them didn't dare express any complaints. Instead, they wept in joy, grateful that the count had sent his sons. It spoke volus about Count Bill's reputation.
"Ah... it brings back mories..." the cursed sword suddenly murmured.
"mories?" Sylas paused at the unexpected remark.
"My creator once told ... to one day beco a weapon that would help the world, to save those who suffered."
"He must've been a fine creator."
"Yes... though I didn't understand it back then..."
There was a deep bitterness in the cursed sword's voice, filled with regret and guilt—an epiphany from soone who had co to realize the truth too late.
"Now I understand... I was ant to save people like this... that my purpose was here, all along."
"Then..." Sylas began.
"Yes... Sylas Corleone... my master..."
The cursed sword began to glow with a soft, blue fla. This fire was different from the one before—it held no intention of harming Sylas.
"My na is Volberk, the Cursed Sword. I acknowledge you as my master... will you walk with ?"
Sylas's hand trembled as he gripped the sword. The legendary cursed sword, Volberk, known as the Incarnation of Fire, was now recognizing him as its true owner. Closing his eyes briefly, Sylas then tightened his grip on the sword and spoke calmly.
"Cursed sword, Volberk."
"Speak, my master, the one I wish to serve..." Your next read awaits at My Virtual Library Empire
Touching the flas that didn't burn, Sylas replied in a steady voice, "Cut the crap. Get back inside. You're just trying to avoid getting eaten."
"N-no, that's not it... I'm being sincere...!"
"If sincerity were a currency, yours would be worthless," Sylas scoffed.
"W-wait... I'm really serious this ti! Please...!" Volberk pleaded, but Sylas strapped the sword back to his waist and looked up at the sky. The dark clouds looming overhead still reflected the demon's presence.
"I'm telling the truth...! Please believe ...!"
The consecration would soon be completed, and tomorrow would be the day they put everything on the line.
"Just once... trust ...!" Volberk continued to beg.
The final battle was fast approaching.
"Please... I don't want to be eaten...! Spare ...!"
Reviews
All reviews (0)