The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Chapter 340: The Master of the Magic Sword (1)



A sword that had never appeared in the novel.

A demonic sword, dark enough to distort space, had neither been introduced nor mentioned before.

‘Too many variables...’

Tyrfing was trembling, as if echoing my uneasy heart. It shivered violently within its sheath, as though it feared the demonic sword before us.

“Gulp...”

The demonic sword, a double-edged blade, had an appearance that seemed unremarkable. It wasn’t adorned with any extravagant decorations, nor was it an oversized sword; its form was simply that of an ordinary weapon.

The blade of the demonic sword gleamed darkly, and whenever light struck it, faint red hues flickered off it, as if a quiet river was flowing through it.

It wasn’t right to call it a sword—it felt more accurate to call it a curse. I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh at the cold, eerie aura it radiated.

I wondered what kind of madness had created it.

The aura the sword emitted was downright vicious, enough to warp space around it.

Out of concern, I glanced toward Shuen and asked him if he was being tempted.

“Shuen.”

“Why are you calling me, commoner?”

“How does that sword look to you?”

“It looks like a demonic sword.”

“Not just that. Does it seem like touching it would be dangerous or that you feel drawn to it?”

“Hmm...”

Shuen, deep in thought, nodded slightly before giving a brief reply.

“Nope. It’s terrifying.”

“I see.”

“I’m certain I can’t hold it.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Just a hunch. It feels like there’s an incredibly evil presence within it... If I grabbed it, I think I’d go mad.”

“And what if I held it?”

“...”

Shuen didn’t answer and simply shook his head, as if telling me not to entertain dangerous thoughts.

To me, a sword had never been a significant tool. If it wielded well, that was good. If it didn’t, I could compensate with skill. That’s what I considered craftsmanship.

Sure, I had Tyrfing, the ultimate weapon, so I wasn’t greedy for another sword. Even without Tyrfing, it wouldn’t drastically affect my combat ability. I never had much of an attachment to swords.

But the sword before me... it possessed a strength that surpassed imagination. It made me want it.

If Tyrfing was a "demonic sword," then this sword was an "evil incarnate." I could feel, almost instinctively, that if I held it with a light heart, it would steal my soul.

[Activating Dark Magic Resistance Lv. 5.]

‘...It doesn’t seem like it’s just dark magic.’

It didn’t seem to stem from dark magic. Even with my dark magic resistance activated, nothing much changed. It felt like something deeper, something fundamental was different.

“...”

Logically, the best course of action was to walk away without even looking at the sword. Its aura was far too strong for anyone to handle. But if this sword fell into the hands of a heretic...?

‘That’s another problem.’

It felt like a snowball of unimaginable chaos would start rolling. Destroying the sword was out of the question, as it seemed the magic suppressed within it would explode if I tried.

There were two options.

One, bury the sword.

Pile rubble over it and let it fade into history.

The second option?

I could take the demonic sword myself.

That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about it falling into a heretic’s hands, and I could also strengthen my own power. Of course, this assumed I could handle the sword.

The fight between Temperance and Ellicia might not end anytime soon. If, by chance, Temperance defeated Ellicia and reached for the demonic sword, the aftermath would be beyond imagination.

Whether Temperance was chosen by the sword or controlled by it, either would be catastrophic.

So, there was only one solution.

I called out to Mikhail and Shuen, who were looking down at the pit.

“Mikhail. Shuen.”

“Hm?”

“Yes?”

I swallowed nervously and spoke.

“I’m going down for a bit.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I was met with immediate protests. Don’t go, don’t say something so terrifying.

If the aura felt overwhelming even to a Sword Master like me, how much worse must it feel for Mikhail and Shuen? If I felt it as a hundred, they must be feeling it twice as strongly. That’s why they were giving me those looks as I prepared to descend.

Mikhail shook his head and spoke firmly.

“No.”

“...”

“I said, no.”

The Holy Sword was trembling, as if it were fiercely protesting my intent to approach the demonic sword. If Tyrfing’s trembling could be called fear, the Holy Sword’s trembling could be described as anger.

I shook my head, signaling that I had no choice.

“I’ll just take a quick look.”

“No. We don’t even know what that is. What if something goes wrong?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Shuen also shook his head, looking at me.

“Don’t go, commoner.”

“I thought you might let me, Shuen. Why are you saying no?”

“Well... it’s dangerous! It’s a demonic sword. Much stronger than the one you have, commoner.”

“...But isn’t it better than letting it fall into someone else’s hands?”

“Well, yes, but... it’s still too dangerous.”

I shook my head slightly and jumped down into the pit.

“I’ll be back.”

“Ricardo!!!”

“Commoner!!”

I smiled faintly.

“I’m a bit greedy, you see.”

Who could refuse when such a fine sword was right in front of them? Even Lowen wouldn’t be able to resist.

...Probably.

  •  “...Hmm.”

    Now that I was down in the pit, I waved toward Mikhail and Shuen, who were looking down at me. I waved energetically to show them I was fine.

    Mikhail and Shuen looked down at me with worried eyes.

    “If something happens, call right away! The Holy Sword’s hero, Shuenjel, will come to your rescue!”

    “The Holy Sword... I’ll handle it.”

    “Be quiet!”

    ‘Pfft...’

    Seeing the two of them bicker comforted me, and I let out a small laugh as I examined the area around the demonic sword.

    “Now... let’s take a look.”

    The space where the demonic sword lay was smaller than I expected. If the place where the Holy Sword rested could be compared to a living room, this was about the size of a bathroom.

    That’s just a comparison; it was about the size of an academy classroom. The Holy Sword’s resting place had been absurdly large, making this place seem smaller by comparison.

    “Hmm... Too modest for a place where a demonic sword is sealed.”

    There was nothing in the room.

    Only the demonic sword embedded in the center, with no display cases or ornaments.

    “Hmm...”

    The only peculiar thing was...

    “There’s a lot written here.”

    Strange characters were inscribed on the floor and walls, difficult to read. Like trying to decipher my own handwriting, I bent down and wiped away the dust covering the floor. I could read some of the ancient script.

    “Demonic sword...”

    [Demonic Sword Caliburn]

  • The light and darkness of the world.
  • Those who seek the trial must be filled with emotions of corruption, sorrow, fear, resentment, regret, and rage.
  • Only one overflowing with misfortune has the right to wield the sword. If a happy person wields it, they will be consumed by the darkness.
  • The price of mocking the darkness will be severe.

    “...?”

    The conditions seemed more complicated than I thought. If happiness were a corpse, my life would be its body. Recently, as the lady began to walk, I had {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} reached the peak of happiness. Since I was far from misfortune, I didn’t think I qualified to wield the demonic sword.

    Moreover...

    ‘Too strict...’

    How could anyone live in pure misfortune?

    How could a person only be miserable, sometimes happy, and sometimes in tears? I sighed and shook my head, thinking I wasn’t fit to take the sword.

    At that moment...

    -Woooong.

    Tyrfing began to resonate.

    As if it had found a point of resonance, Tyrfing started to tremble violently, then shot out of its sheath and flew through the air.

    “...What?”

    The sword had abandoned its master.

    “No way...”

    I let out a laugh of disbelief. The sight of Tyrfing, the sword I had lovingly cared for each night, flying toward the demonic sword named Caliburn was absurd.

    “...”

    -Woooong.

    When Tyrfing touched the blade of the demonic sword, it vanished into a cloud of black smoke.

    -Passs.

    I, now swordless, shook my head and sighed.

    “It was a sword that suited me well...”

    What should I do now?

    I turned my gaze coldly to the demonic sword. There was only one way to quell the anger of a swordsman who had just lost his weapon.

    Get an even better sword.

    “...I wasn’t going to get greedy.”

    I took a deep breath and grabbed the demonic sword. If anything felt off, I was ready to let go immediately.

    I had prepared for this.

    I had the insurance of the Limit Break skill and the Healing Touch technique.

    If my mind was being dominated, I’d use Limit Break. If my body was being controlled, I’d escape using Healing Touch. I was confident I could overcome any side effects without too much trouble.

    If worst came to worst, I could always destroy the demonic sword. It would’ve felt wrong to walk away without at least trying.

    -Claang.

    Thus...

    [Demonic Sword ‘Caliburn’ has detected challenger ‘Ricardo.’]

    “...Huh?”

    [Qualification confirmed.]

    It seemed that luck was on my side.

    [‘Caliburn’s Trial’ begins.]

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