Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 111

Seated beside one of the wagons, Hamel let out a loud laugh and said, “Wow! You’ve gotten ridiculously strong, kiddo!”

It had only been a few months since they last saw each other, but his face was filled with nothing but joy at the unexpected reunion. Rangers often ended up cold and aloof due to the nature of their role and training, but Hamel, perhaps due to his temperament, greeted them with a friendly attitude just like before.

Of course, having a life debt to repay, it was only natural for a mercenary to act this way.

“Can’t believe you brought down that Garlond so easily! I feel embarrassed now for getting all worked up trying to stop you!”

“There’s no need to be,” Leon replied, shaking his head. “He was strong. But the cursed sword had clouded his mind. He couldn’t even bring out half his actual skill. On top of that, you did a number on him, so he wasn’t in good shape. If we had fought properly, I wouldn’t have been able to end it so cleanly.”

Leon wasn’t just being modest. An A-rank mercenary was, by definition, a veteran of countless battlefields, someone who had experienced a wide range of combat scenarios against other people.

They could see through most tricks instantly, turn traps on their enemies, and gamble with their lives only when it truly mattered. They were fighters who had won duels after duels with their lives on the line.

If I fought him without the help of the Holy Sword or my Stigmata, it would’ve taken at least a hundred exchanges to bring him down.

Garlond wouldn’t have walked straight into an obvious bait like that either. Leon would’ve needed to break the fight down, tempo by tempo, strike by strike.

Leon had the edge in raw physical ability and technique, but Garlond had enough practical experience to bridge that gap. A-rank mercenaries, if described bluntly, were professional manhunters.

Against swords, spears, axes, fists, bows, magic, and on the plains, in the fields, in back alleys, inside cramped rooms--Leon still had much to learn in the art of fighting people.

Now that I think about it, I really don’t have much experience in human-to-human combat...

El-Cid agreed, —That’s true. You’ve built most of your combat experience fighting monsters, not people. You tend to settle things with a big, decisive blow instead of drawn-out tactical battles. That was true with the lord-tier vampire, and again with the drake.

So I shouldn’t rely on Grand Chariot?

—Exactly. Grand Chariot is a finishing move. So far, your enemies either underestimated you and tried to duel you head-on or were too big to dodge. But from now on, you’ll be facing opponents who expect a trump card like that—and plan for it.

That was when Leon realized one of his weaknesses.

Grand Chariot had excellent reach, speed, and power, but it wasn’t well-suited to close quarters. A skilled opponent could step out of its arc the moment he shifted his stance and wound up for the strike. It might work on large creatures like a drake, but against human-sized targets? Evasion was easy.

A seasoned fighter like Garlond would avoid it without breaking a sweat.

He felt the need to improve his one-on-one combat capabilities. Unaware of Leon’s inner turmoil, Hamel grinned at having been credited for his role.

“Really? My arrows did that much? I was thinking of switching them out since it didn’t feel like they were worth the price, but I guess it’s worth stocking up on them again!”

Even if Garlond had lost his senses, landing clean hits would’ve been difficult without the special arrows. Leon nodded, acknowledging their usefulness.

The topic soon shifted to something else—why Garlond had lost control in the first place. Leon was the first to point out that the sword he’d been using seemed suspicious, and Hamel agreed.

“Yeah, I got a weird vibe from it. Like, it felt cursed... and yet I still wanted to swing it around.”

“Sounds like one of the typical traits of cursed swords.”

After all, who would willingly wield something that reeked of only malevolence? This was why cursed swords often came with a compulsion effect, luring their victims into picking them up.

“Those red eyes, the way he didn’t even feel pain... he looked more like a berserk monster than a person. I never thought an A-ranker could be controlled by a cursed sword like that...”

“You’ve never heard of anything like this before?” Leon asked.

“Of course not! If these things were everywhere, who’d accept a caravan escort job?”

Leon gave a quiet sigh of relief and recalled the yellow marker he’d seen in Jugend a few days ago.

The recent “Cursed Sword Destruction” quest hadn’t been some one-off incident. It was merely a side effect of a larger, ongoing phenomenon happening in the Kingdom of Jugend. The full quest read as follows:

Vein Invader

Difficulty: Hard

Scale: ?

Threat: Exodimensional monsters (danger level unknown)

Overseer: Cardinal Irexana

Monsters have escaped the Mirror Canyon and infiltrated the Grand Vein, corrupting the minerals with their power. Weapons forged from these tainted minerals have a chance of becoming cursed and corrupting their wielders, though that won’t show until the wielder has tasted blood. Eliminate the unknown exodimensional entity spreading its influence deep within the Grand Vein. Contact the assigned overseer for assistance.

The Grand Vein was the heart of Jugend’s mining zone, which made up more than ninety percent of the kingdom’s territory. They said rare metals like mithril, orichalcum, and adamantium flowed there like spring water.

That might’ve been an exaggeration, but there was no doubt it was Jugend’s beating heart. An area outsiders had no business wandering into.

If people don’t know about the cursed sword yet, that must mean the contamination level inside the Grand Vein isn’t too bad yet.

Still, there was no room for complacency. Once full contamination set in and thousands of cursed weapons flooded the continent, it would be too late.

If even an A-ranker could lose his mind, there were only a handful of people on the entire continent with the willpower to resist. The best solution was to stop the outbreak before it spiraled out of control.

“Excuse me. Mr. Leon?” a voice called Leon.

“Ah, yes.”

Just then, a merchant approached the carriage where the three of them were gathered. When Garlond attacked, all the merchants had gone pale, but now that they’d had a moment to breathe, it seemed he had something to say.

He introduced himself as Ruson and began to speak.

“First of all, thank you for saving our lives. Our Normand Caravan may be small, but we will never forget this debt.”

“Ah, you’re with the Normand Caravan.”

“Yes. And... I was wondering if you and your companions—being adventurers—might be willing to take on a request...”

In short, he wanted to hire them to escort the caravan to Jugend. The chances of another Garlond-level incident were slim, but once they had already stared death in the face, they didn’t want to take any more risks.

The new adventurers were Leon, who had just taken down an A-ranker, and Karen, herself an A-rank adventurer. The two of them looked like the perfect escorts. They offered a fair price, too, so Leon accepted without much hesitation, especially since he was planning to travel with them anyway.

“Understood. We’ll take the job.”

Leon needed Garlond’s testimony regarding the cursed sword, wanted to catch up with Hamel about what had happened over the past few months, and—realistically—there was no point rushing ahead a day or two.

And so, the Hero’s party boarded a carriage with the Normand Caravan, bound for the Kingdom of Jugend.

***

Three days passed by without trouble, and there was just an hour or two left before they would reach the border of the Kingdom of Jugend. After being battered both physically and mentally by the cursed sword, Garlond finally opened his eyes after sleeping for three straight days and nights.

His body was wrapped in bandages, and as a precaution against any potential rampage, his legs were shackled with chains. Seeing his own state, Garlond let out a long sigh and bowed his head to the merchants first. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

“I’m sorry. I had no intention of putting your lives in danger. I’ll make sure to fully compensate you for this unfortunate incident,” he apologized to Ruson.

His voice was clear, and his eyes focused. He was a completely different man from the one who had wielded the cursed sword.

Even Ruson, who had dealt with him as the leader of the caravan, looked awkward, unable to respond and only nodding stiffly. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who had charged at them like a mad dog just days ago.

Garlond soon turned his gaze to Leon and asked, “You’re the one who stopped me, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Leon replied.

“Thank you. If you hadn’t, I would’ve committed something truly unforgivable.”

He bowed his head respectfully to Leon, then looked around as if searching for something. Realizing what he was looking for, Leon spoke.

“The cursed sword has already been destroyed. The moment I cut it in two, it crumbled to dust.”

“Is that so? I had hoped to use it as evidence...” Garlond trailed off as a bitter smile formed on his lips. “Who would’ve thought that the sword I bought in Jugend carried such vile power? I basically threw my money away.”

Hearing exactly what he’d hoped for, Leon leaned forward slightly and asked, “In Jugend, you said?”

“Yes, I bought it for three hundred gold.”

“Could you tell me more about it?”

“As much as you’d like.”

For Garlond, it had been a bitter and unpleasant experience, but Leon had saved him. He had every right to know the full story.

“When I first found the sword, I thought I’d found a real gem. When I tested it on a tree, the cut was clean and smooth. I didn’t feel anything sinister about it. But...”

Garlond’s brow furrowed as he recalled the moment.

“It started when I cut down those goblins. Every time I used the blade on a living being, I felt a strange exhilaration. It was like I was getting stronger, like I’d broken through a wall in my training... though, of course, it was all an illusion.”

“You didn’t think it was strange?” Leon asked.

“I did. But the sword’s temptation was stronger than that. The craving that it fulfilled... No warrior could resist that.”

A warrior, by nature, sought strength. Endless days of physical training and swinging weapons weren’t easy. Even through pain and suffering, they endured it all to build muscle and refine techniques they might never even get to use.

And even after all that, true confidence and a sense of achievement remained elusive. Anyone who’s seen the wider world realizes eventually that there are many stronger people out there. People they’ll never reach, no matter how hard they try.

“The cursed sword made me feel like I was worth something again.”

That endless desire to improve—ambition—was like a bottomless pot, always demanding more. The cursed sword satisfied that, like a drug.

That was precisely why even an A-rank mercenary fell under its spell.

“If slaying mere goblins made me feel like a Swordmaster... you can imagine the rest. I held out for a while, but it wasn’t long before I was consumed by a thirst for blood.”

“I see...”

Leon now understood how dangerous this incident truly was. This cursed sword satisfied a warrior’s ambition.

At first, it encouraged its wielder while hiding its true nature, but as the craving grew, it stripped away their reason. It was a terrifying weapon, one that was powerful enough to turn even an A-ranker into a murderous beast.

Maybe someone at the Master level wouldn’t succumb, but anyone below that... if they fall even once, they’re done for.

It was easy to avoid a pit. However, once one fell in, escaping was ten times harder. Garlond could probably have let go of the hilt in the beginning, but after using it over and over again, he couldn’t anymore.

Then, a mercenary riding on the frontmost wagon shouted out, “It’s Jugend! I see the walls!”

Just as he said, the pale outline of city walls began to rise along the horizon. Since the chaos three days ago, not a single monster had attacked them. The merchants might have felt like hiring Leon and Karen had been unnecessary, but the reality was quite different.

“Do you think they realize the monsters stayed away because of us?” Karen giggled as she asked, and Leon replied with a light smile.

“I doubt it. Not that I feel like pointing it out.”

The gear made from drake bones and scales gleamed under the warm sunlight, its smooth surfaces shining. Even the finest-crafted items would continue to emit monster scent for over a month.

And this was a drake—a monster ranked S+. Monsters instinctively avoided anything stronger than themselves. It was highly likely that any monsters within several kilometers had turned tail the moment they spotted the wagon they were riding in. It was safe to say the caravan’s monster-free journey had been thanks to them.

Kingdom of Jugend... Cardinal Irexana...

As he stared at the steadily approaching walls of Jugend, Leon quietly murmured the name of the person he suspected held the key to this incident.

Cardinal Irexana. He would be the first official of the Church he’d meet since becoming a full-fledged Hero.