CHAPTER 114: CHAPTER: 114 CELESTIALS, DEMONS AND HUMANS.[6]

Vivian leaned forward, his eyes bright.

"What was his name, Sir Robwin?"

He asked, unable to hide the hope in his voice.

But the answer hit him like a small stone.

"There isn’t any mention of his name," Robwin said with a tired sigh.

"After I learned about him, I searched everywhere. I wanted to know who he really was."

"But every book, every scroll... they all stopped at the same line. Not one of them wrote his name."

Vivian let out a long breath.

The story of that man had moved him deeply.

Someone who gave up everything for the world... someone who stood alone when no one else did.

"A true god," he muttered under his breath.

"That man was a true god."

The words hung quietly in the air.

The silence that followed stretched slowly.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy and full, like the world itself was thinking about the man they had just spoken of.

Robwin looked at the ground, lost in his own thoughts, while Vivian stared ahead, still feeling the weight of the tale.

Neither of them spoke.

The moment simply rested there, calm and deep, as if holding the memory of the nameless man a little longer.

Robwin let the silence sit a little longer, then cleared his throat gently.

"Sir Vivian... you still haven’t checked all the swords."

He said, pointing toward the row of blades resting inside the glass case.

Vivian blinked, pulled back from his thoughts.

"Ah... yes."

He slid the sword of hatred back into its place and reached for the next one.

It was the sword filled with resentment.

The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, the feeling inside it melted away, just like before.

The heavy resentment that should have been there faded like smoke in the wind.

Robwin watched quietly.

"This sword is called Jullieas," he said at last, his eyes fixed on the blade.

He let out a slow sigh.

"We don’t know much about its origin. It appeared long ago, already carrying that strange resentment inside it... yet no one ever found out why."

Vivian lifted the sword slightly, feeling its lightness now that the emotion had vanished.

The name Jullieas echoed in his mind, gentle, simple, yet tied to something so dark.

It made the sword feel even more mysterious.

Vivian held the sword named Jullieas for a moment longer, but there was no warmth, no pull, no sign of acceptance.

It felt like holding a story that refused to open.

With a small, bitter smile, he placed it back in its slot.

"Not meant for me," he murmured.

Only two swords remained now.

One shone with gentle kindness.

The other pulsed with a sharp, cold killing intent.

Vivian didn’t even bother reaching toward the killing intent sword.

His hand naturally moved toward the one filled with kindness.

He wrapped his fingers around the hilt, expecting at least a small reaction.

But just like before, the moment he touched it, the kindness vanished.

The sword fell silent in his hand, empty and plain.

Robwin stepped beside him and spoke softly.

"Don’t be upset, Sir Vivian. A sword not acknowledging you doesn’t mean you lack kindness."

He gave a warm smile, the kind that carried comfort instead of pity.

Vivian returned a faint smile and placed the sword back into its place.

The glass case now held only one more blade, the sword with intense killing intent.

It practically glowed with a cold pressure, as if warning anyone who came near.

Vivian looked at it and let out a quiet sigh.

’This one won’t accept me either,’ he thought.

He didn’t have that kind of darkness in him, and he knew it.

Vivian swallowed once, then slowly reached out his hand toward the sword filled with intense killing intent.

He wasn’t expecting anything.

He only wanted to finish what he started.

But the moment his fingers touched the hilt—

"Huh?"

"Huh?"

Both Robwin and Vivian made the same sound at the same time.

The sword didn’t stay silent. It shone.

Bright, far brighter than any of the others.

A thick wave of killing intent burst out of it, so sharp and heavy that even Robwin felt goosebumps race across his skin.

It wasn’t just strong... it was at least ten times stronger than before, twisting the air around them.

Robwin’s eyes went wide, then wider, until he could barely breathe.

The blade began to change right before his eyes.

Its metal darkened, turning into a deep blood-red color.

The killing intent kept rising, as if the sword had finally woken up from a long sleep.

"It... it acknowledged you, Sir Vivian,"

Robwin managed, his voice full of shock. "Congra—"

He didn’t finish.

Vivian’s face stopped him.

Instead of joy, pride, or surprise... Vivian looked disappointed.

Almost hurt.

"Sir Robwin," he whispered, staring at the glowing red blade, "am I that bad? That this wicked sword shines so brightly in my hand?"

His tone shook a little.

It wasn’t anger, not fear, just a quiet sadness, as if the sword had pointed at something inside him he never wanted to see.

Robwin shook his head at once.

"No, Sir Vivian. This sword choosing you doesn’t mean you are bad."

His voice was firm but gentle. "Remember what we talked about earlier?"

Vivian lowered the blade a little and looked at him.

"You said no emotion is bad... only when it becomes too much. But shouldn’t this be counted as the extreme? Look at it."

He lifted the sword slightly.

The killing intent was so strong it felt like the air trembled.

"It’s like this sword could kill with its killing intent alone."

"That’s even better," Robwin said, surprising him.

"Yes, this killing intent is extreme. But whether it turns into good or bad depends on you."

"You decide how to use it. You wouldn’t use this against normal people who cannot protect themselves... right?"

"Of course not," Vivian said without hesitation.

"Why would I harm those who can’t defend themselves?"

"Exactly." Robwin smiled, a real, calm smile this time.

"If you use this killing intent on your enemies, then it becomes a strength, not a curse."

"It helps you instead of harming you. Power is only dangerous when it controls you. If you control it... it becomes something good."

Vivian stayed quiet for a long time, eyes fixed on the red blade.

He looked like someone trying to sort out a strange feeling he didn’t understand.

Just when he opened his mouth to speak to Robwin...

[What a pussy cat.]

A deep voice rang inside his mind.

Vivian froze mid-breath.

"What... was that?" he wondered.

He searched around, but there was nothing.

He turned to Robwin. "Sir Robwin—"

[Dumbass.]

The voice cut in again, sharper this time.

Vivian’s eyes widened.

He waited, hoping it would speak again, but the silence returned.

After a long moment he muttered, "am I hearing things...?"

Then he asked, "Sir Robwin, what’s its name?"

Robwin gave a small smile.

"It’s called Bloody Mary."

[Fuck off, you dumbass.]

This time the voice was clearer, louder, and full of attitude.

Vivian stopped, blinked once, then slowly smiled as the truth clicked.

"So you can communicate too?" he said, looking at the sword with a strange mix of surprise and amusement.

The voice in Vivian’s head growled again.

[Took you long enough. I didn’t think that after waking from a deep sleep I’d be tricked. Damn you.]

The frustration in its tone was clear, as if someone had stolen its lunch.

Vivian frowned a little and asked silently, ’Who are you?’

[What a dumbass. You idiot, I’m the spirit of this sword, Bloody Mary. And you tricked me, you softie.]

Vivian’s frown deepened.

He had already guessed it came from the sword, ’but tricked? How?’ He asked in his mind, ’How did I trick you?’

[You softie, when I felt that intense killing intent from you, I thought, "Finally, time for a massacre!" But you turned out to be a soft-hearted fool. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have acknowledged you as my master.]

Vivian gave a small, thoughtful hum.

’So... does this mean you are my servant now?" he asked calmly in his mind.’

[Hey, hey, watch your tongue, boy! I’m not your servant. You’re my master, so our status is the same level. Got it?]

"Huh?" Vivian whispered.

The logic made no sense at all, but he didn’t feel like fighting with a loud sword spirit, so he let it pass.

The spirit, however, wasn’t done.

[Hey! You softie! Listen to me!]

Vivian completely ignored him.

He turned to Robwin and said in a steady voice, "So... I will take Bloody Mary with me."

The sword trembled lightly in his hand, almost as if trying to shout again, but Vivian kept walking as if nothing happened.

The contrast between his calm face and the sword’s raging spirit made the moment strangely amusing.

[Damn you, softie! If I hadn’t been tricked into acknowledging you, I would’ve shown you the consequences of ignoring someone like me. Hmph.]

The sword spirit snorted in his mind, cold and dramatic, like it was trying very hard to sound dangerous.

’Yeah, yeah...’ Vivian muttered under his breath, not even slowing down.

The spirit sputtered.

[Don’t "yeah yeah" me! I’m a legendary sword spirit! Fear me! Respect me! At least listen to me, you—]

Vivian kept walking, completely unfazed.

His calm steps echoed through the hall while the sword spirit raged on, its voice bouncing inside his head like an angry cat trapped in a box.