Under the heavy rain pouring down like the tears of a god, he pressed his hood down and walked in a hurry.
Three years.
It has been that way since I started living here.
If you say itâs short, itâs short; if you say itâs long, itâs long.
But I can assure you.
These three years have never left me any happy memories.
âFor Valtherus!!â
âFor our God Lactus!â
A sharp sword creates death, and death piles up the corpses like a mountain.
And then those corpses, again â
Are refined into swords.
Three years ago.
I became a Pilgrim in such a cruel world.
Caw! Caw!
Shoo!
Feeling a presence, the crow that was feeding on the flesh of the corpses stirred its wings and flew away.
The green meadows were stained with blood and devastated by the aftermath of the war.
A scenery that was unforgivingly bleak.
The corpses stretched over it had become mountains; and the hungry beasts as well as the humans who were not any better stared at each other and took advantage of it.
âUh, hey. Hey. Look over there. A Pilgrim.â
âItâs true. The rosary of the sword hanging from his neck and the stigma on the back of his handâŚ. Heâs a real Pilgrim.â
Unlike the wild beasts that dig up corpses only to fill their stomachs, the figures of the children who came to collect money were being reflected in the gray pupils.
â⌠a Pilgrim of the Sword.â
He wore a pure white hood, but the shock of jet-black hair glimpsed under it was impressive. The sharp gray eyes that could be seen through them looked like something not of an ordinary human being.
The necklace hanging from his neck was a rosary.
The stigma of a god in the shape of a sword was on the back of his hand.
These people were often seen on the battlefields.
Followers of Valtherus.
Pilgrims who wander around in search of a sword at the call of the Gods.
Or â
âSword madmen.â
A child who had been rummaging through the bodies quickly threw a stone.
It flew in a long parabolic arc, but the stone thrown with the power of a child fell helplessly at the feet of the Pilgrim.
âGet out of here, you swordsman!â
Famine and poverty caused by war inherit its violence. The resentful gazes that had no choice but to blame someone in order to survive turned to the Pilgrim.
The childrenâs faces were furious with hateful frowns, but their faltering legs were mired in fear.
The children flinched as the indifferent gray eyes stared at them.
âThis war happened because of you crazy people, who turned the princess into a sword!!â
âYeah, thatâs right! Get out of here!â
âItâs all because of you!â
A devotee of swords who worshiped only swords and the God Valtherus.
Only one thing mattered to them.
The divine power that grants miracles.
âWe donât have a body to offer someone like you!!â
âFuck off right now!!â
To draw the soul out of a body that has lost its warmth and turn it into a sword.
That is the power of God.
The only power that Valtherus gave them.
Carcass Sword (죟ę˛) â Resident Sword (é§ĺ).[1] Itâs also called a miracle.
Sword Pilgrims.
Priests who perform miracles by turning the corpses of the dead into swords.
That is what it means to be a Pilgrim of the Sword.
âYou guys turned people into swords and this is what happened!â
Godâs miracle is exceptionally discriminatory, so the power of the sword differed depending on who was the origin of the sword.
There were many Pilgrims who secretly killed people with great potential and turned them into swords. Whenever there were any neighbors who disappeared without a sound, it was not a few people who suspected it to be the work of a PilgrimâŚ
Those who had heard of the notoriety of the Pilgrims or whose family had been taken away naturally did not like the people who performed these divine miracles.
Rather, they â
âDevil!!â
They called them devils and despised them.
A follower of God being called a devil, what could be more contemptuous than this?
However, this Pilgrim went on his way without answering, as if he was long used to these insults.
The children, who had been staring at him as if he was not even human, returned to searching the mountain of corpses.
It was then.
Hiiiing!
The harsh sound of horseshoes rumbled across the ground.
âPilgrim of the Gods who serves the great Valtherus! Stop for a moment!â
The Knight in the vanguard stopped at the Pilgrimâs feet and said with a loud voice.
The Knight, who came all the way to the front of the Pilgrim, did not even get off his horse and spoke with a dignified posture.
âOâ Son of the great Valtherus, you who have entered the territory of Lutens. In the name of the Lord of the Western Provinces, Quardal de Lutens, you are invited to the Lordâs castle.â
The Pilgrimâs eyes gazed upon the Knights.
The level of the Knights was high, and their spirit high enough to pierce the skies. Perhaps they had just won the war.
They behaved like you had no choice but to follow their order.
The Pilgrimâs eyes narrowed coldly. Dry lips parted.
âOnly the God Valtherus can block a Pilgrimâs way. Move aside.â
An obvious refusal.
The Knights immediately drew their swords as if they had known in advance.
Sreung!
âWe need a Pilgrim.â
âYou donât need a Pilgrim, but a miracle from God.â
âThatâs right. The Lord wants to turn all the corpses here into swords.â
âAre you going to start another war just after all this killing? Youâre crazy.â
Taking someoneâs life means also creating a thread of resentment.
âBlood calls for more blood.â
A new war will cause nothing but that.
The Pilgrim shook his head.
âIâm sorry, but weâre desperate too. I wonât listen to your refusal.â
A huge amount of money had been spent to prepare for the war.
To make up for that amount â
The Lord was trying to catch the Pilgrims passing through his estate.
To turn the corpses piled up like a mountain into swords with the miracle of Valtherus!
If only there were Pilgrims, that would be possible.
âYouâre doing something that deserves punishment. Arenât you afraid of Godâs wrath?â
âFor us, the enemy before our eyes takes precedence over the wrath of God.â
The Pilgrimâs mouth closed.
The status of the God worshiped by the kingdom on the road to destruction had long since fallen to the ground.
Looking at him standing in silence, the Knight at the vanguard poured out more unanswered words.
âOf course, we will treat you with the utmost respect. With the war approaching, of course, it will be insufficient, but I will do my best to serve you. Are you tired of the long pilgrimage? It wouldnât be bad to settle down for a while and then leave again.
âDoes the Pilgrimâs divine power seem infinite? Itâd be better to stop using it right away.â
The moment the Pilgrim was about to take another step.
Thump.
Taeeng, tang!
An iron helmet fell from the mountain of corpses.
âWho!â
âWas there a thief?â
The Knightâs eyes, cold as frost, pierced the child hiding among the corpses.
âHey!â
He was the child who had spoken the contemptuous words to the Pilgrim. He was crushed by the Knightâs spirit and could not even escape.
âThe bounty here belongs to Lutens. Pay for the crime of stealing with your life.â
The Knight took out his bow, pulled the bowstring and fired an arrow.
The arrow flew through the wind and pierced the childâs heart.
The eyes of the child who died without a single scream reached the Pilgrim.
It was a futile death.
However, there was no emotion in the Pilgrimâs eyes.
Children die and old people die.
Itâs just a matter of being late or early.
Just when he wanted to quietly look away.
The Pilgrimâs eyes changed completely.
The body of the dead child gleamed with a silvery light that only he could recognize.
âPilgrimâŚâ
The gaze of the Knight who had shot the arrow turned to the Pilgrim again.
But the Pilgrim was nowhere to be found.
When the Knight looked for where he had gone, he had already come closer to the child who was losing his warmth.
The moment the Knights were about to move.
The man who appeared to be their leader raised his hand and blocked them.
âItâs a miracle of God.â
Saaaa.
Grains of silver light flowed from the body of the dead child. The light gathered at the Pilgrimâs fingertips soon condensed and formed a single shape.
A double-edged sword.
However, it was different from a normal sword.
The edge of its blade was shining a dazzling blue.
The Knights knew.
That was the miracle of Valtherus for which they had displayed such cynic anticipation.
The only power He bestowed.
A Carcass Sword!
The eyes of the Knights who witnessed the light of miracles became sharp.
âIf only that miracleâŚâ
If you could arm the soldiers with Carcass Swords that were stronger than steel, victory in war could be guaranteed. The Knightsâ eyes were dyed with greed.
âPilgrim,â
However, the Pilgrim did not answer their call.
He was still looking at the sword emitting a soft light.
And when the light faded.
The Pilgrimâs mouth opened.
âObviously, itâs a grudge?â
The Knight-Captainâs eyebrows narrowed.
Grudge? What grudge are you talking about?
He wanted to ask right away, but couldnât.
Because that was then.
Shhh. The figure of the Pilgrim disappeared with the light sound of the wind.
âHuh!â
The Knight-Captain was surprised for a while.
âUhâŚâŚ.â
His gaze rotated.
He saw his own body atop his horse, and then he fell to the floor.
âOh!â
âCaptain!â
The head of the Knight-Captain had been cut off.
The cries of the Knights and their horses resounded in amazement.
âGet revenge for the leader!â
âCatch the Pilgrim!â
Chaeeng-!
The Pilgrimâs sword swung.
The Carcass Sword in his hand broke a Knightâs sword and ripped his iron armor at once.
There was an overwhelming difference between their weapons.
The Pilgrim thought cynically.
After a while â
Drip, drip.
Only the drops of blood running down the Pilgrimâs Carcass Sword could be heard across the calm and desolate plain.
Saaaa.
A silver light leaked from the sword held by the Pilgrim. Soon, the shape of the sword scattered like ashes and disappeared.
The Pilgrim left the vanishing sword behind him as if nothing happened and quietly continued walking along the road.
Light shone through the stigma on the back of his hand, which symbolized his status as a Pilgrim of Valtherus.
[Centeâs grudge]
[Strength +1]
A faint smile spread across the Pilgrimâs lips and then disappeared.