Episode 117: The Treasure (1)
Malta led Damian toward the tower standing at the center of the workshop.
“This place is reserved for the artisans of the workshop. Even the holy knights can’t enter easily. You’re probably the first outsider to set foot here.”
Cheongyeom gestured toward the tower as he explained to Damian. Malta turned back and gave him a sharp look.
“And why are you tagging along?”
“The Holy One asked me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you don’t get up to any mischief.”
Malta grumbled something unintelligible at Cheongyeom’s words.
He led them down into the depths of the tower. Though the tower rose high above, its underground levels were equally deep. Only after passing three floors did they reach the bottom.
A massive door blocked their path.
Malta tapped the door lightly with a hammer, and it slowly rose upward.
As soon as Damian peered inside, he couldn’t help but gasp in awe.
The room was filled with weapons.
Swords, spears, axes, knuckles—every kind of weapon imaginable lined the walls.
“Incredible,” Damian said, genuinely impressed.
Not a single weapon seemed carelessly made. It was clear they were crafted with the utmost skill and dedication by master artisans.
“No need for flattery. It’s just the truth,” Malta replied curtly, despite the compliment.
“Now, you must go inside and let a weapon choose you.”
The phrasing was odd. Damian looked at Malta, puzzled.
“Let a weapon choose me?”
“You knights might not know this, but it’s not just people who choose weapons. Weapons choose their wielders too.”
Malta crossed his arms, clearly displeased by the notion.
“Especially with sacred swords, this tendency is even stronger. If you’re not chosen, you can’t fully harness its power or help it grow.”
It sounded as if he was already assuming Damian wouldn’t be chosen.
“How will I know if a sacred sword has chosen me?”
“You’ll feel it as you walk around inside. The sword will speak to you first.”
It was a vague and somewhat absurd method.
“If you don’t feel it and try to take a sword by force, it won’t work. I’ll know.”
“What happens if I’m not chosen?”
“You can’t leave here with a sword. Many knights have passed the Trial of Iron but failed to obtain a sacred sword.”
Damian glanced at Cheongyeom, who didn’t seem to be stopping him, suggesting it wasn’t a lie.
“Understood.”
Damian entered and scanned the weapons hanging on the walls.
The materials varied, as did the colors.
‘They’re not all the same, after all.’
Sacred swords grow stronger with each battle.
But that doesn’t mean all sacred swords start and end at the same point.
The metal used and the artisan’s skill determine their performance. Just as a snake’s offspring can’t be compared to a dragon’s.
Suddenly, Damian’s steps halted.
A sacred sword hanging in the center of the wall caught his eye. Its smooth, pale green blade was a work of art.
He picked it up to test it. The grip fit perfectly in his hand, and the balance was flawless.
‘This is… a sword made of True Silver.’
Thanks to his mastery as a Weapon Master, he recognized it immediately.
True Silver, or sometimes called White Silver.
Among the countless rare metals in the world, it was one of the most prized.
It could obliterate anything evil with just a touch, and even a small amount mixed into a weapon could create a legendary blade.
A sacred sword made of True Silver would undoubtedly be the best.
A low hum resonated from the sword, as if it was pleased to be in Damian’s hand.
‘This is the one.’
Damian was certain and prepared to leave with the sword.
But then, another sword in a corner caught his attention.
At first glance, it was unimpressive. The blade was rough and uneven, and the handle was just a piece of wood.
It seemed hastily made, almost carelessly.
Yet Damian couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.
He reached out and touched the blade. It trembled slightly.
A clear, resonant sound filled the air. Damian was instantly captivated by the sword’s song.
He had never heard such a pure sound from a sword before. In that fleeting moment, he was completely drawn in.
Damian picked up the sword. Its resonance grew stronger.
He approached Malta with the sword in hand.
“Why didn’t you bring the first sword you chose?”
“That one was good, but this one drew me in more.”
“Foolish. The first sword you picked was made of True Silver. It was the finest here.”
As Damian had identified, the pale green sword was indeed made of True Silver. Yet he felt no regret.
The sword’s hum resonated deeply within him, leaving no room for doubt.
“Still, I’ll go with this one.”
“Are you sure? Are you really making such a foolish choice?”
Damian nodded, and Malta closed his eyes tightly.
“Damn it… Of all people, an outsider recognizes this sword’s true worth.”
Malta took the sword from Damian’s hands and spoke.
“This sword is called Dawn. It was forged from meteoric iron that fell from the sky just before sunrise, hence the name.”
Meteoric iron.
A metal that could only be obtained from falling meteors.
Even the rarest metals like True Silver or Orichalcum paled in comparison to meteoric iron.
“Not all meteoric iron is exceptional. Its composition and properties vary. Some are no better than scrap metal.”
Malta caressed the blade of Dawn. Unlike with Damian, there was no resonance.
“But the meteoric iron used for Dawn was different. I’ve never seen such an extraordinary metal. Its hardness, its ability to conduct magic—everything was top-notch.”
Malta’s voice was tinged with excitement as he described the meteoric iron, a testament to its greatness.
“It was incredibly difficult to forge. Even with all the workshop’s fuel, we couldn’t heat it enough. That’s why it looks like this.”
The sword’s rough appearance was due to this. It hadn’t been melted and cast into a mold but rather heated and hammered into shape.
“No one has ever been chosen by this sword. Not even the most skilled holy knights recognized its true value.”
Malta murmured regretfully.
“An outsider becoming the owner of a sword made from meteoric iron… Is this what they call fate?”
Malta handed the sword back to Damian.
“Please take good care of Dawn.”
“I will cherish it.”
Damian reached out to take Dawn again, but Malta suddenly pulled it back.
He hugged the sword tightly and burst into tears.
“Oh, my precious Dawn, to think I have to let you go like this!”
The sword hummed in sympathy with Malta’s tears.
“I remember when I first made you! How happy I was to finally forge you!”
Malta pulled out a handkerchief stained with oil from his pocket and wiped his tears and nose.
“Outsider! If you take Dawn, you must take full responsibility!”
The sword hummed in agreement.
“You must oil it every morning, noon, and night! And Dawn loves watching the sunrise, so you must wake up early!”
The sword hummed again, echoing Malta’s words. Damian looked at the two, bewildered.
“And you must never cheat on it with another weapon! Do you understand? You must use only Dawn!”
Damian replied firmly, “That’s not possible.”
“What?”
The sword trembled slightly.
“I have no intention of using just one weapon… I already have another sword I use.”
“What do you mean? You’re going to use another weapon besides Dawn? You, you philanderer!”
The sword and Malta protested vehemently.
“I can’t give Dawn to a philanderer like you! I’ll take it back!”
The sword’s hum grew softer.
“What? You still prefer him? You ungrateful child! They say raising a daughter is pointless, and you’re proving it!”
Damian looked at them, exasperated.
“This is getting annoying. Just hand it over already.”
After receiving Dawn from Malta, Damian stepped outside with Cheongyeom.
The sword hummed contentedly in his hand.
Damian glanced at it with a slightly uneasy expression.
‘Should I switch it out now?’
For a moment, he seriously considered it. Cheongyeom spoke to him.
“The sun is setting already.”
He looked up at the sky, painted with the colors of dusk.
“Ah, I haven’t shown you to your lodgings yet. Follow me.”
The lodging that Cheongyeom led him to was conveniently nearby.
“This is where we accommodate visiting monks. We don’t have a separate guesthouse, so this is the best we can offer,” he explained.
The main temple of the Holy Order was off-limits to outsiders, so it seemed they only had quarters meant for the monks.
“It’s late today, so get some rest. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to Vigo,” Cheongyeom added.
At the mention of Vigo, Demian’s eyes lit up.
He hadn’t decided what he would gain from this visit, but it didn’t matter. Whatever he chose, it would surely be a treasure of the highest order.
“Are you personally escorting me there?” Demian inquired.
“Yes. Vigo is too important a place to visit without a high-ranking cleric. Otherwise, the golems on guard might attack,” Cheongyeom replied.
The golems, renowned for their craftsmanship, were as formidable as the Order’s reputation suggested.
“I’ll return around noon tomorrow,” Cheongyeom said before taking his leave.
Demian settled into the guest quarters, unpacked, and went to bed.
The next morning…
“Good morning. Did you sleep well last night?” a voice greeted him.
It wasn’t Cheongyeom standing before him, but Gwangmyeong.
Meeting Gwangmyeong again, Demian couldn’t help but notice the same captivating beauty. It was more than just physical allure; there was something about Gwangmyeong that drew the eye.
Even the passing paladins couldn’t help but stare, despite being accustomed to seeing him at the main temple.
But Demian only looked at Gwangmyeong with a hint of disdain.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
“I volunteered to guide you to Vigo,” Gwangmyeong replied.
“But Cheongyeom said he would take care of that,” Demian countered.
“Something urgent came up for Cheongyeom, so I’m here in his place,” Gwangmyeong explained.
Given Cheongyeom’s status as one of the Five Saints, it wasn’t unusual for him to have pressing matters.
But this was Gwangmyeong, the master of ‘Dazzling Pain.’
Demian had once thwarted ‘Dazzling Pain’s’ plans in the Dungeon of the Dead, making Gwangmyeong practically an adversary.
“Is something wrong?” Gwangmyeong asked, tilting his head with an innocent expression.
Demian, knowing Gwangmyeong’s true nature, brushed it off easily.
“It’s nothing. Please, lead the way to Vigo.”
Gwangmyeong’s eyes widened slightly, perhaps surprised by Demian’s response.
‘Backing down here would be a blow to my pride,’ Demian thought.
Even Gwangmyeong couldn’t touch him within the temple grounds, not with both Cheongyeom and the Holy Emperor’s protection.
‘Gwangmyeong likely has no intention of causing trouble,’ Demian reasoned.
Still, there had to be a reason for this close proximity. To uncover it, he had no choice but to accompany Gwangmyeong.
“You’re quite brave. This way, please,” Gwangmyeong said, taking the lead.