I Am The Only Witch Hunter-Chapter 353: Silver Lock

"You really just gave up on a Spirit Art like that?" Damien said.

He popped his head out from inside the carriage.

On their way exiting the North, the group entered a town and bought a carriage there. Damien was in no shape of riding a horse so a carriage was better.

Everia didn’t use coins from Eldoria. Luckily they still took pure gold and silver. So Siderius simply melted some silver coins he had for payment.

They were on the road again. It was as empty as usual since people had stopped traveling to and from the North. They were the only ones visible.

"You saw everything." Siderius shrugged. He was still riding on his own with Red while the carriage was pulled by Ashe’s horse and she was the driver.

"You’re only first rank. But you are already this powerful. If you reach third rank, the new greatest swordsman might be you." Damien said.

"Maybe. But that’s not what I’m after."

"What are you after then?"

"Immortality." Siderius said bluntly. "But not the witch’s immortality. That’s false immortality. And witches are enslaved by their desire."

"I see... If you want, I can teach you our Spirit Art. Or Sword Style. Whatever you want to call it."

"In exchange for what?" Siderius said.

"You already saved me from Althaia. What more do you need?"

"She was going to lead you to the capital anyway."

"Maybe. But as a prisoner of war. I lost my hand already. I don’t want to lose my dignity as well."

"Would your house approve of this?" Siderius said.

"Of course not. But what can they do? I’m already half-dead."

"Very well. Teach me your Art."

Kynidus’s Art was Anu Light, focusing on the will of freedom and never regretting your choices. Regulus’s style was Mirage Blade, devotion to the sword and the dream of greatness.

Siderius didn’t learn what Basilus’s style was.

Now he learned the secret style of the House of Argentius. It was called Silver Lock.

A long time ago, Argentius’ ancestors were once a silver locksmith. They dealt in silver and in locks. Through generations and generations of locksmiths, they acquired more and more knowledge and skill.

Until one day, Carolus Argentius, a talented swordsman, had put it all into his sword style and created the Silver Lock.

A silver lock secured the treasures that hid within the chest. It was fortitude.

Silver Lock focused on creating a hardened outer shell for your will, making you impenetrable and invincible in front of your enemy.

Ashe listened to Damien’s explanation of the Silver Lock to Siderius. She turned her head over and said, "That sounds miserable. To hide yourself away."

"It’s not hidden. It’s a fortification." Damien shook his head.

"It’s all the same to me." Ashe said.

Siderius spent the next few days learning Silver Lock.

Argentius treated everything and everyone else as potential enemies. Their trust only laid in their family members. This also reflected in their Spirit Art.

Silver Lock needed the practitioner to always keep their guards up unless the person in front of them had Argentius blood of Argentius.

At night, the three of them set up a camp near the border of Glacirium. They were very close to leaving the North. Once they did, Siderius would part ways with Damien and leave Everia. While Damien would go on to wherever he pleased.

Their dinner was some porridge that Ashe made. They used wooden bowls that Ashe brought along to eat.

"This is really good. You are as good as the chef in my house." Damien said.

Without his right hand, he had to place the wooden bowl on his lap and used his left hand to eat. It was much more difficult than using his right hand and he missed his mouth a few times. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Siderius lifted his head up, "Your Spirit Art... It prohibits you to have any emotion for anyone else except Argentius members. But you loved a witch."

Damien froze mid-motion, "You know?"

Siderius nodded, "Bas told me about it the last time he’s in Eldoria."

"Ugh. I always hated that cunning bodyguard. But yes, you’re right. I’ve fallen in love with a witch in Eldoria."

"Your house approved of this?"

"Of course not. My father hated it. He had already arranged for me to marry a lady in some noble house. But I didn’t like her."

"How do you know it’s not a spell or a curse?" Siderius pointed the porridge-filled spoon at Damien.

"I am a third rank Spirit Swordsman. Witch Curse does not work on me."

"I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. There’re many ways for a witch to curse you without even touching your willpower at all." Siderius whispered low.

Damien’s eyelids fluttered. "She wouldn’t do that. She loves me."

"Witches only love themselves. It’s in their nature. And I doubt that an army could catch you, the Evening Sword of Everia.

But let me guess, you weren’t as strong as you used to be since you met her. It’s one of the reasons that you lost to Victorus.

If Victorus is as good a tactician as I heard, he would make sure to exploit that as well. Tell me, didn’t there something that happened in the battle that reminded you of her? That made you distracted just a little bit to be caught?"

Damien stood up suddenly. The bowl of porridge fell off his laps. Ashe reached her hand over and caught the bowl thanks to her lightning reflex.

"I... My willpower. She did this to me?" Damien mumbled.

"I can’t say for sure. But I know for a fact that if you love someone else, truly, that is not an Argentius. Your Spirit Art will be useless."

"How do you know?"

"I’ve seen many things, Damien. Spells, curses, demons, gods. Things that you couldn’t imagine. That is why I can create my own Spirit Art."

Siderius placed the empty wooden bowl down on the ground. He knelt in front of the fire.

"And your Spirit Art has just given enough inspiration for me to figure out the second rank of my own Spirit Art. The Forge of Flame."

Steel of Will created the first piece of the sword. Its name already explained it. Steel of Will condensed your will into a piece of iron, ready to be forged.

Forge of Flame created the fire to heat the steel and reinforced it even further.