The Tomb

Three hundred years ago, in Helmuth, near the Demon King of Carnage’s castle.

The area had once been a plain, but the battle against the Demon King of Carnage had overturned the entire landscape. After the battle, they searched the surrounding area for any surviving enemies who might have fled the castle or gone into hiding.

Somewhere amid the churned-up earth, they discovered a passage leading underground. They descended, suspecting that Carnage’s underlings might be hiding there, but found no demons, demonic beasts, or monsters.

Deep underground lay ruins of indeterminate age. After examining the ancient language carved into the walls, Senya surmised that they dated back to the Age of Myths.

Both Senya and Anise could decipher ancient languages, but neither could interpret the inscriptions in these ruins. What little they had uncovered told them nothing about the place’s nature, so they had no choice but to descend all the way to the bottom.

In the deepest part of the ruins lay a pitch-black chamber untouched by any light. At its center floated a full moon, radiating a pale glow.

["That one’s mine."]

The instant Hamel saw the “sword” embedded beneath the full moon, he laid claim to it. His companions raised no objections. Most of his weapons had been smashed or broken during the battle against the Demon King of Carnage, leaving him with only one intact sword.

Jigollas, the Crushing Hammer—the weapon wielded by the Demon King of Carnage. Both Hamel and Moron had coveted it, but neither could become its master. It was nearly impossible for a human to wield a Demon King’s weapon safely, and Vermouth alone could use it without suffering harm.

Moron preferred large, heavy axes to swords. Even then, Vermouth already possessed several weapons, including Wynnyd, the Holy Sword, and Gedon’s Shield. Having acquired the Crushing Hammer as well, he yielded the sword in the ruins to Hamel.

But Hamel could not take hold of it. The moment he approached the moonlight falling over the sword, he vomited blood and dropped to his knees. That mysterious moonlight scattered his mana and clouded his mind.

In the end, that sword became Vermouth’s too. He was the only member of their party who could approach the moonlight unharmed and draw the blade. They did not know why. Really, it was hardly surprising. Every one of his companions knew how extraordinary he was.

["Fuck, why do you get everything?"]

["I tried to let you have it."]

["Who said you didn’t?"]

["Would you like to take it now?"]

["I don’t want it, you lunatic. Are you trying to piss me off?"]

The Moonlight Sword.

That was the name they gave the sword from the ruins. Simple and straightforward, but fitting. It had stood embedded beneath a full moon. When drawn from its sheath, its dull-colored blade resembled moonlight, and every swing seemed to scatter that light.

But that was merely how it looked.

It was not a sword. Not only Eugene, but all his companions had agreed with that assessment. If the essence of a weapon was to kill and destroy, then of all the “weapons” in the world, the Moonlight Sword embodied that essence most perfectly.

The Moonlight Sword was destruction in the shape of a sword.

Ruinthos, the Demonic Spear, was the pride of the Demon King of Cruelty. Though that spear was terrifying in its own right, it could not pierce the Moonlight Sword’s light.

Once Vermouth acquired the Moonlight Sword, the Holy Sword no longer had a chance to shine. It was only natural. The plain-looking Moonlight Sword was far, far stronger than the beautiful Holy Sword with its brilliant radiance.

Eugene stood in a daze, staring at the moon.

The moon they had first seen in the ruins had been full. But the one before him now was a crescent. He reached to take out his fragment of the Moonlight Sword, then burst out laughing.

“I forgot to pick it up.”

The fragment he had driven into the death knight’s chest had fallen to the floor. There had been no time to retrieve it. He had wanted to take it out and see how it reacted, but that would have to wait.

“... Vermouth.”

Eugene slowly shook his head and muttered,

“Why did you put this in my tomb?”

The Moonlight Sword.

Unlike three hundred years ago, it was not embedded in the floor. It floated in midair. Eugene stared at the suspended sword.

The fragment of the Moonlight Sword had been discovered in the Kazad Hills.

He had assumed Vermouth had shattered and sealed the sword himself because it was too dangerous.

But why was it here? What reason could there possibly be for the Moonlight Sword to be in Hamel’s tomb, of all places?

“Was this your way of mourning me?”

Hamel had wanted the Moonlight Sword, but had never been able to claim it. He had never harbored any lingering regrets about it... Still, this seemed like Vermouth’s way of mourning. Rather than offer a tear-stained letter or words overflowing with emotion, he was the sort to abruptly present a companion with something they had wanted.

Eugene looked beneath the Moonlight Sword. There was a pure-white coffin. Presumably, that was where his corpse had been laid to rest.

“What good is giving it to me after I’m dead?”

Not that he could have possessed it while alive, either. He chuckled grumpily and shook his head.

This was no time to get sentimental. Apart from the Moonlight Sword, there was nothing in this room. No statue or memorial stone like those outside. The only door was the entrance he had used, and it was also the only way out. Once he left, he would have to face that damned lunatic of a death knight again.

And the death knight was not his only concern. Amelia Merwin had entered this tomb. A black mage. If there was a death knight here, she must have created it. There was no telling when that fucking black mage would return.

He had to finish this as quickly as possible and escape.

Things were getting more complicated than he had imagined. Grimacing, Eugene approached the Moonlight Sword. His body was covered in wounds, and his heart pounded after the fierce battle. He did not know why the sword was here, or what Vermouth had been thinking when he placed it here.

Still, its presence must mean... that the sword was an offering to Hamel.

“Then I can take it, right?”

With a faint chuckle, Eugene reached toward the moonlight. Apprehension outweighed any pleasure or anticipation. In his previous life, Hamel had been unable even to hold the Moonlight Sword. He had reincarnated as Vermouth’s descendant, but would that really allow him to wield it?

“I have to.”

Eugene muttered as he extended his hand.

“That bastard left this sword for me.”

His hand touched the moonlight. A chill ran through him, making every hair on his body stand on end. It was only light, yet his breathing grew labored. The mana inside him surged wildly. Left unchecked, it would run out of control. Gritting his teeth, he employed the White Flame Formula to rein it in.

He pushed farther forward. It was more bearable than he had expected. Was he imagining it? Or was it because he was Vermouth’s descendant? Because he had learned the same White Flame Formula?

No.

'It’s weakened.'

He was certain of it. The Moonlight Sword before him was incomparably weaker than when they had first discovered it in the ruins. He believed there was no doubt it had been shattered.

His hand reached the hilt.

CRACKLE!

A dull-colored electrical current wrapped around Eugene’s body. The mana he had been controlling surged violently, then finally settled. Gasping for breath, he sank to the floor.

He had it. He had been unable to hold it in his previous life, but this time it was firmly in his hand. Steadying his ragged breathing, he examined the Moonlight Sword.

Outwardly, it was an ordinary sword. Setting aside the excessively ornate Holy Sword, even Wynnyd had elegant decorations on its pommel and guard, but the Moonlight Sword had nothing of the sort.

Its sheath was the same. No patterns, no gems. Such embellishments meant nothing to this sword. Eugene swallowed and grasped the sheath.

“... It’s gone.”

He drew it with a trembling heart, but the dull-colored blade was nowhere to be seen. Something had indeed been inside the sheath, but barely anything remained of the Moonlight Sword beyond its tang.

'Well, it must have been shattered.'

The moment that thought crossed his mind, the floating crescent moon began to disperse. The moonlight illuminating the room gathered into the Moonlight Sword. Eyes wide, Eugene watched what was happening to it.

“... Haha.”

The gathered light extended into a blade. Looking down at the faintly glowing sword, Eugene burst out laughing. A sword of light rather than metal. It was different from the Moonlight Sword he knew, but this light was unmistakably moonlight.

Eugene slowly raised the sword, feeding mana into it as he did. Though the Moonlight Sword destroyed all magic and mana, it did not scatter his. Instead, it swallowed his mana as though it had been waiting for it.

The moonlight flickered like flame. The flames produced by the White Flame Formula resonated with the Moonlight Sword and became one with it. Eugene laughed, his shoulders shaking.

“What a fucking sword.”

His remark was not born of unalloyed delight. He understood what sort of sword this was. A blade made of light. Resonance with the White Flame Formula. It consumed a tremendous amount of his mana. Of course, its power would more than make up for that cost, but for Eugene, who had yet to reach “completion,” it was a difficult weapon to wield.

“But it’s magnificent.”

This much power, even after being shattered. It devoured mana ravenously, but used well, it would offer an overwhelming advantage in battles fought with “mana.”

'If I’d known this would happen, maybe I should have taken the Devouring Sword.'

Asphel, the Devouring Sword, which Vermouth had once wielded, was in the Lionheart main family’s Treasury. A sword that cut through magic and devoured mana. Its ability to cut magic resembled the Moonlight Sword’s, but the Moonlight Sword was vastly superior in performance.

Using both together, however, would compensate for much of their shortcomings. Asphel’s devouring ability could replenish the mana consumed by the Moonlight Sword, while the Moonlight Sword could make up for Asphel’s lack of power.

'Still, there’s no helping it. I never imagined I’d get the Moonlight Sword.'

Besides, Wynnyd was overwhelmingly more convenient. If he ever succeeded in summoning Tempest, he would be able to raise storms without even having to swing his sword.

“... Maybe if I acted cute and begged, he’d give me Asphel?”

Gilead might do it. Eugene smacked his lips and sheathed the Moonlight Sword. Of course, it was only a thought. He would never actually act cute for Gilead.

“What now?”

Eugene rubbed his chin, pondering his options. Should he hole up here and buy some time? No, he couldn’t. If Amelia arrived in the meantime, he would be in trouble.

'I do have Balzac’s letter.'

He had never imagined he might encounter Amelia somewhere that was not even her territory. Though he had accepted the letter, he had not wanted to rely on Balzac’s kindness... But in the worst case, he would have no choice.

'Though I don’t know if a single measly letter could make her back down.'

He could not put absolute faith in it. If possible, he had to resolve this himself. Eugene glanced at the unconscious Raman. For now, he would leave the man here and deal with the death knight outside first.

'I won’t... need to use Ignition.'

He could test the Moonlight Sword’s power while he was at it.

Before that, though, he opened the pure-white coffin. As expected, there was no corpse inside.

“...”

There was something else in the coffin instead.

He could see words written on the underside of the lid. Terrible handwriting. Senya’s.

May we meet someday in the world you wished for.

Eugene smiled bitterly at those words.

Something lay where the corpse should have been.

* * *

“Grrrr...!”

The death knight glared at the door, growling like a beast. Not much time had passed since the intruder went through it. In that brief interval, the death knight had slashed at the door dozens, hundreds of times.

But it could not break it. It had tried hundreds of times before as well, yet the door had never suffered so much as a scratch, let alone broken.

'How did he get inside?'

It could not understand. Clutching its head, the death knight groaned.

This was Hamel the Stupid’s tomb.

And it was Hamel the Stupid. It had to be. Since this body belonged to Hamel, the soul within it must also be Hamel’s. That was a powerful suggestion implanted in its mind. Through that suggestion, the death knight’s master had synchronized a lycanthrope’s soul with Hamel’s corpse.

It was necessary. Though no soul remained in the corpse, the experiences of its life were ingrained in it. If the soul could synchronize and attune itself perfectly, it could unconsciously draw upon Hamel’s experience.

The techniques manifested that way would be nothing compared with the real Hamel’s, but its master took great interest in them. How could that not be the case? Hamel the Stupid had been a companion of Vermouth the Great, and of all those companions, including Vermouth himself, Hamel alone had left behind a “corpse.”

This corpse was the finest possible material for creating a death knight.

It was nothing like the expendable soul.

“I am... I am Hamel.”

Repeating the implanted suggestion, the death knight clawed at its head. Several souls had inhabited this body before it, but it did not know which number Hamel it was. Nor did it want to know. Acknowledging that would only shake its already unstable sense of self.

'Disposal.'

Its eyes trembled. Its helmet had cracked, and its breastplate had shattered. Those were things it must not allow to break, and its master would certainly be furious. What would happen then? Nothing but disposal. A soul deemed useless would be discarded, and another would become material for the death knight.

To avoid that, it had to prove it was not worthless scrap fit only for disposal. It would kill the intruder and offer him up... No, it must not kill him. It had to capture him. The man had easily opened the door its master had been so desperate to open. It had to present him alive.

'Quickly. Before my master returns...'

Had its fervent wish been answered?

The door shook. The death knight flinched and extended its claws. This, too, would anger its master. Its master insisted on using nonhuman souls, yet forced them to rely entirely on the body’s memories rather than use their claws.

Extending its claws directly defied its master’s orders. But it had no choice. This opponent was not so easy that it could defeat him using an unfamiliar method.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Eugene had expected an immediate attack, but the death knight did not oblige. It crouched as though about to explode into motion and glared at him.

“How did you get inside?”

“I just went in.”

“... Inside... what did you see?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Who the hell are you?”

CRUNCH!

The death knight’s foot crushed the ground beneath it. Chuckling, Eugene grasped the sword at his waist.

“Who do you think?”

“GRAAAH!”

Provoked to the very end, the death knight kicked off the ground. It wanted to tear him to shreds and kill him, but it could not. Suppressing its murderous intent, it slashed its claws at Eugene.

Eugene lowered his stance. As the death knight’s claws drew near,

he drew forth the moonlight.