Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 139: The Birth of the Cursed Sword
The trio heads to the “Chamber of the Great Vat,” a place where a cursed sword can be reforged.
As they move deeper into the temple, the number of people around decreases. At a quiet spot, Pallavis whispers to Lucius.
“Lucius, here, act as my younger brother. If we get caught, we’ll be executed on the spot.”
Lucius nods, remembering that entering the sanctum without authorization is a grave offense, something he had momentarily overlooked due to Pallavis ’s casual demeanor. He suspects the reason might be tied to the magic eater, which prowls the forest.
In religious communities, image is everything, for better or worse. Rumors of once-holy warriors transformed into monsters creeping through the holy capital could shatter that image. Unauthorized intrusions into the sanctum are problematic for many reasons. Those who enter are often killed by magic eaters, but such deaths cannot be officially acknowledged. Instead, they are labeled as punishments for trespassing, preserving the facade of order.
Lucius reflects, “It’s all about the kingdom’s reputation.”
Even if the cause and effect are reversed, maintaining appearances takes precedence.
“Understood,”
Lucius replies quietly.
After some walking, they arrive at a different hall, distinct from the earlier areas. About twenty people are gathered, their gazes fixed on a group of priests in white robes. Among the priests is an object that captures everyone’s attention.
“More of a cauldron than a vat,”
Lucius thinks.
The cauldron, large enough to match the height of an adult, is surrounded by priests. It appears plain and iron-wrought, accompanied by a stone table nearby—possibly a stand for ritual items.
Two figures, an adult and a child, step forward from the crowd and bow their heads to the priests, or perhaps the cauldron itself. Pallavis mutters under his breath.
“Of all people, we follow after him?”
“What’s happening?”
Lucius asks.
“They’re making a magic sword. It’s for that kid,”
Pallavis answers.
Lucius finds it odd that such a young child would receive a magic weapon, but then remembers that Pallavis ’s own son, Tyrus, also wields one despite his youth. It seems customary to bestow these weapons early.
The ritual proceeds in a solemn manner.
“I am Nasar, the Third Seat of the Sword Council. I ask the god Varna to grant my nephew, Badra, new strength.”
The man declares.
Next to him, a boy of about three or four looks around nervously, his unease visible. A priest addresses the child in a low, steady voice.
“Nephew of Nassar, Badra, do you swear to wield this power for the peace of the world and pledge your loyalty to the god Varna, the master of the magic sword?”
The boy, visibly frightened, hesitates until Nassar urges him.
“Y-yes,” he stammers.
“Very well. Come forward,”
The priest instructs, gesturing toward the cauldron.
The boy glances anxiously at Nassar, tears welling in his eyes.
“Endure it, Badra,”
Nasar commands, gripping the boy’s hand and forcing it over the cauldron. He then draws the sword strapped to his back.
The child cries out, “Nooo!” but none of the adults, including Pallavis and the stoic Priena, flinch.
The sword lightly cuts the child’s small palm and a drop of blood trickles into the cauldron. Green smoke begins to rise faintly from it.
“Green… the second level. You’ve much to improve upon,”
Nasar remarks, embarrassed. He steps back, wiping the boy’s tears as he bows to the priest.
Lucius watches, reminded of his own initiation ritual, known as the “Ceremony of Appraisal.” He suspects this is the Republic’s equivalent, a form of baptism for children gifted with magic power.
One thing catches his attention: the phrase “second level.”
“Come to think of it, Sai was called the seventh level,”
Lucius muses, recalling the tattoo on her neck. The phrase aligns with the current terminology. Pallavis explains in a hushed tone.
“It refers to the level of magic energy in the mana core. First is the weakest, seventh is the strongest.”
“So it’s a ranking system,”
Lucius concludes.
In the kingdom, mana is ranked from sixth to first class, with the highest being the special class. However, the Republic seems to use an ascending numerical scale starting from the lowest. As Lucius counts on his fingers to seven, realization dawns on him, and his eyes widen in shock.
Ad
“Does that mean Sai’s magic core is… a special grade?”
Priena nodded.
Lucius possesses four magic cores, each reaching the first grade. However, none of them are on the level of a special grade.
In other words, this means that, when it comes to a single magic core, the still-young Sai holds more magic power than Lucius.
“Yes. Sai is at a special grade at that age. If this continues, there’s no doubt she’ll become the High Priestess—”
“It’s starting.”
Pallavis interrupted their conversation, calling attention back to the front.
“Very well. Then, does the god to whom the magic sword is to be offered have any hope?”
“…As per the usual.”
Nassar, the attendant, made the proposal.
Upon hearing this, one of the temple priests, who had been standing in the back, stepped forward. It was an elderly woman.
The woman began singing a strange song. As she did, a magic circle appeared behind her.
In the circle stood…
“A chanting spirit?”
A beautiful woman with a full body, holding short blades resembling knives in both hands, smiled from within the circle.
Ad
However, it was clear that she was not quite human, as branches grew from her shoulders, back, and abdomen, covering her breasts and genitals.
“This is Yakushini, the chanting spirit. She is a demon god who governs the bounty of life and is a subordinate god of Soma. Most magic weapons use her magic.”
Priena explained.
“So, they use a demon to create a magic sword?”
“Yes, the magic required for the spell comes from her power.”
As Yakushini’s arms emerged from the magic circle, they placed them on a large cauldron beside her. Something fell from her palm into the cauldron.
“Is the chanting spirit pouring magic into the cauldron?”
“Yes.”
Next, a leather bag filled with iron sand was poured into the cauldron. Finally, a soft, clay-like substance was thrown in.
The priests began kneading the mixture with large spatulas, speaking words of a chant as they worked.
After about 30 minutes of stirring, a dark clay-like mass, now infused with iron sand, was removed from the cauldron.
They placed the clay on a stone table beside the cauldron.
One of the priests skillfully began to shape the clay into the form of a short sword.
It resembled a crude replica made from styrofoam and paper clay that I had once seen in a costume, but this was much more intricate.
“What will they do with something like that?”
Ad
It didn’t seem practical at all.
“Nassar, nephew Badra, it’s time to pour in the magic.”
The boy with swollen eyes touched the clay and began to channel his magic into it.
As he did, part of the paper-clay short sword began to peel away.
A hook-like shape grew.
“A blade!?”
A blade had formed from the clay short sword. It gleamed, shining with a dull steel-like color.
“A good transformation. The sword master from the previous generation also used a scythe-based spell.”
Nassar, the attendant, breathed a sigh of relief at the priest’s words. The others holding magic swords watched with hopeful eyes.
The only one not convinced was Lucius.
“…Impossible. No matter how you look at it, they’re skipping too many steps in the forging process. Even if they used magic, mixing clay and iron sand and turning it directly into a sword is unthinkable.”
“I’ve always found it strange, too. But that’s an ancient relic created by the dwarves. It was originally an artifact from the Blue Age, which has since been refurbished. They say they can no longer replicate it now.”
“Dwarves, huh…”
Thinking back, I remember hearing something similar from Dammur, the leader of the dwarf clan. The dwarves had once lived in the Republic for a long time.
“Well, it’s not exactly complete. It still needs to be tempered with the owner’s magic, so it’s just a matter of whether the blacksmith uses a hammer and file or if the owner uses their magic.”
From the way she said it, there was something that caught my attention.
“…Priena, did you know about the dwarves?”
“Yeah, I knew. They’re not bad beings. That’s why, when I was planning to assassinate Lucius, I chose a place where there wouldn’t be many people around. I never expected him to be underground, though.”
“So, you really didn’t intend to kill me, after all.”
Priena shook her head.
“Intent doesn’t matter. Only the outcome matters for us nobles. The common folk are judged by their processes and circumstances, but for us, it’s all about the result. That’s why it’s my fault.”
There was a strong determination in Priena’s eyes as if she had no intention of stepping back from her stance.
“I see…”
Swallowing my words, I nodded, just as Pallavis tapped me on the shoulder.
“Next is Lucius.”