“Cough.”
Ismael, the Great Warrior of Condemnation, lay entombed deep beneath the earth. Clinging to her fading consciousness, she looked down at her broken form. Her lower half, severed by the blade Caravan had swung, was a mangled mess, and everything below her neck was pinned under a mountain of jagged rubble. It was a wretched end—a lonely, miserable death that no one would ever remember.
“…Found him! Over here! Lord Caravan is buried under here!”
“Clear the debris! Move these rocks, now!”
Yet, Ismael did not wallow in self-pity. At this moment, only the voice of Caravan echoed incessantly in her mind.
“Just how deep did the ground collapse?”
“It’s a miracle the harbor didn’t go down with it! If it had, he would’ve been swept away by the rapids and we’d never find him. There’s no place as treacherous as the sea around Vicente.”
Sin and punishment are important.
But doubt is equally important.
“It’s too much for us to move on our own!”
“Bring the mages! The ones we paid all that gold to!”
If you cannot doubt, you will be consumed by the means of sin and punishment and lose sight of your original purpose.
In her final moments, Ismael could not deny Caravan’s words. It wasn’t just her immature brothers and sisters; even she, who had spent her entire life steeped in the scriptures, had been consumed by ‘Sin and Punishment.’ It had been that way for a long time. As if it were her sole life’s work, she had focused only on uncovering sins and breaking sinners. Once one was found, she would hunt for another by any means necessary, obsessed with exposing every single fault they possessed. The lowliest believers did it, the priests did it, the Crusaders did it, and even she, the Great Warrior, had lived that way.
“This kind of work is difficult. As you know, most of us are War Mages; we aren’t trained for delicate excavation. If you want us to shatter boulders or blast another hole, that’s one thing.”
“You’re saying you can’t do it after taking all that gold? Is it that hard to lift a few rocks with magic?”
“It might look like a simple pile of stones, but they’re all tangled together. One wrong move and the whole thing shifts. Our goal is to rescue the mercenary Lord Caravan brought, Arhan Caravan, who’s trapped below, isn’t it? If we mess up, we’ll be the ones who kill him.”
“So it’s not that you can’t do it—you just don’t want the responsibility!”
To protect the weak, to shield the good—where had that purpose, sworn under the cross, vanished to? Why had they devolved from beings who spread the gospel into mere executioners who carried out the punishments that were but a fraction of the doctrine? She didn’t have to think long for the answer. It was because she had never questioned why the Crusader Order placed such weight on ‘Sin and Punishment.’ Because she hadn’t thought deeply. Because she hadn’t doubted. Because doubt was considered a sin.
It wasn’t Caravan’s blade that pierced Ismael the most painfully. What caused her true agony wasn’t the swung steel, but the voice he had released from his tongue.
“Why haven’t you started yet? What if our Lord dies down there while you’re stalling!”
“Ah, Young Master. It’s just that the mages said…”
Ah, why have I become like this?
Ismael wept within her fading mind. In that moment, a memory from the distant past flashed through her head.
She was a baby abandoned in front of a church the moment she was born. Ismael’s mother was a widow who, unable to bear the burden of a child alone, had entrusted her to the church. The priests had not judged the mother for her sin. Instead, they gave her the church’s wine and bread, and even handed her a torch so she could walk the snowy path safely. Years later, when Ismael heard this story, she had asked the priests who raised her: Why didn’t you judge my mother? She abandoned her family, she received charity she didn’t earn, and she didn’t even thank God. Why?
“Is there really no way to deal with these rocks? We have to get him out, hurry!”
“A combination of magic and manual labor is the safest. Honestly, a priest with healing abilities would be best, but… there are no priests with that level of divine power in the port city of Vicente. Most of them have been deployed to the war anyway.”
“Then go find one! Ask around!”
To the young Ismael’s question, the old priests had replied with a smile.
Ismael, sin and punishment are merely tools. The Order is the hands and feet of God, meant to care for the small, the insignificant, the weak, and the pitiful. A knife can be a tool for killing, but it can also be the blade that prepares a meal to feed the hungry. You must live looking at the forest, not just the trees.
Yes, that is what the old priests had said. Ismael sobbed. Why had she forgotten those wise teachings? Why was she only realizing this now?
“For now, just keep digging while we look for a priest! Do it as safely as possible! It doesn’t have to be fast. Our Lord is very sturdy; he’ll hold out even if we’re a bit slow. So safety is the priority! Make sure the Lord underneath doesn’t get hurt!”
Her lips were parched.
It felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck through her blackened mind. The teachings she had forgotten, the true meaning of the Crusader doctrine she should have remembered, finally became clear. It was a realization so profound she could hardly believe she had lived while ignoring it.
“Ah…”
Letting out a faint sigh, Ismael began to draw upon her divine power.
Originally, she had intended to accept death as it was. If the Great Warrior of Condemnation died, the Crusader Order would be enraged. That rage would unite the Crusaders even further; they would win the holy war and hunt down the Caravan who had wounded her to end his life. Even if she died, the title of Great Warrior would pass on. Therefore, she had considered it a worthy death.
“Ahhh.”
But not anymore.
She had to spread this realization.
She had to repent for her mistakes, teach her brothers and sisters who were obsessed only with sin and punishment, and stop this holy war that would only harm the weak. The Order’s crusade had to be disbanded. The Order should not be waging holy wars; it should first become a cradle for the small and insignificant. Just as the priests who had raised and embraced her, the abandoned child, had done long ago. Ismael had a duty to share and give back what she had received.
Ismael intended to use a special authority.
An authority a Great Warrior could use only once in their lifetime: the Miracle of Resurrection. An authority that reenacted the miracle performed by the Son of Sin and Punishment recorded in the scriptures. According to the scriptures, the Son of Sin and Punishment came to the middle world, was killed after being framed, and rose again three days later. Though it could only be used once, the Great Warrior of Condemnation could replicate that miracle. She would lose a significant amount of divine power and her ultimate weapon, but even so, she would gain more than she lost.
If I am resurrected in three days…
I will help the Crusader Order find what it has lost.
I will once again spread the true meaning of the cross—that we must be a godmother to the most insignificant people of the world. I will lead my brothers and sisters, who have been blinded by vanity, back to the righteous path.
However.
“…!”
Ismael’s wish was not granted. The divine power gathering within the old woman scattered. Why? After a moment of bewilderment, Ismael soon realized the reason and looked up at the dark sky. Her God was rejecting her resurrection.
「My Ismael.」
Only then did Ismael realize something.
Why did no one in the Crusader Order question their actions as they set the Southern Continent ablaze? Why did she and her brothers and sisters live so obsessed with ‘Sin and Punishment’? Why did everyone become fanatics, blindly believing the scriptures without a shred of doubt? If the path they walked differed from the will of the cross, God would have corrected their direction through Ismael long ago. But God had remained silent.
Silence is affirmation. God did not deny the declaration of the holy war; He condoned the iron hammer of the Crusader Order as it swung, consumed by sin and punishment; He stood by as the Southern Continent screamed in flames. If so, there was only one reason.
「That is not what I desire.」
Deus Vult.
Because God willed it.
Because He wanted them to blindly believe only in sin and punishment, to be tools that moved only according to His will, for this land to burn because of the holy war, and for His servants to exist not as a cradle for the weak, but only as an iron hammer to punish sinners…
「My servants must burn this land further. Children must denounce the sins of their parents, and people must seek out each other’s faults, dividing and hating one another. For only when the world is devoid of forgiveness, understanding, and compassion will it overflow with ‘Sin and Punishment.’」
“…….”
「My Ismael. This is inevitable. For your God to exert influence in the new era that will soon unfold… to avoid tasting the humiliation of the past Age of War, this is a necessary step. I trust you will understand.」
With those words, the scattering divine power began to vanish entirely.
「Did you not see it as well? Did you not see the blade that could reach even celestial beings? That is something that cannot be. A being capable of such things must not exist, nor should anyone be allowed to become such a being. This is all for the sake of order. All for your sake…」
God had abandoned her.
The voice grew distant and soon vanished altogether. As the voice of God faded, Ismael’s old body, stripped of its divine power, began to shrivel. Letting out a sob, Ismael shed transparent tears, still clutching a worn-out cross in her hand.
“Ah, ahhh.”
Ismael wept.
God had forsaken her. From the moment her divine power vanished, an unbearable pain began to surge. A Great Warrior without divine power was no different from an ordinary person. And an ordinary old woman, having lost half her body and pinned under boulders, could not survive. Never.
“Ahhh…”
Dreaded death approached.
Where does a Great Warrior abandoned by God go after death? In which direction should a lamb who has lost its light turn? A wave of sorrow from her loss washed over her. But even more terrifying than her own approaching death was her worry for those left behind. Her brothers and sisters who would wander aimlessly in this middle world, living as tools without knowing their true purpose, only to be betrayed by God just as she was. A faith that would go unrewarded, a justice that had lost its way, and a cross that was no longer noble. Everything was terrifying.
Another Ismael… will surely appear.
A Great Warrior just like her would emerge. A Great Warrior consumed by sin and punishment, ignorant of what truly mattered. No one would be saved by a Great Warrior who only desired judgment. Blood and tears would flow across this land. The misguided Great Warrior and their brothers and sisters would firmly believe their actions were right as they laid waste to the Southern Continent. No one would think their actions were wrong. Because doubt was a sin. Because those who do not doubt cannot repent. Because those who do not repent cannot reflect. Like an arrow released from a bow, they would charge forward incessantly, never stopping. Looking only ahead, toward the future.
To face death while knowing such a future, unable to convey anything, was utterly agonizing. It was truly, unbearably painful.
Death was drawing closer and closer.
And then.
“…Cough!”
A flickering life.
In the face of death that had reached her very throat.
Ismael heard the sound of coughing.
Turning her head, she saw a young man squirming, pinned under the rocks.
It was Caravan.
*
What happened?
When I opened my eyes, I saw nothing but pitch-black surroundings. Looking down, I saw the pile of rubble weighing down my body. I couldn’t even wiggle a finger.
Damn it.
It seemed I had been caught in Gaia’s authority as well. Turning my head, I saw my sword buried in the dirt. If I had been holding it, it might have been different, but I must have let go of it while I was unconscious. That’s why I ended up in this mess. The protection of the Earth Spirit King only activates while in contact with the sword.
It couldn’t be helped.
Still, it was better than having my neck snapped.
I might be stuck now, but once my strength returned, I’d be able to break free soon enough. The explosive physical ability of Wildness , the additional power gained from my contract with the dragon Aion, and the superhuman strength brought by The Path . On top of that, the Heart of Steel would stubbornly keep me alive unless my head was cut off or my body was completely pulverized… my breath wouldn’t be snuffed out by a trial of this level.
“Just a little more, just a little more digging!”
A faint voice drifted down from above.
The boulders were vibrating slightly.
It seemed Zeppelin Gold and the mercenaries of the Black Archipelago were working to rescue me. That was a relief. Judging by how close the voices sounded, they would arrive here soon. Then getting out of here would be a matter of time…
“…Ca, ravan.”
Just as I thought that, a chilling voice reached my ears.
Seriously, she’s persistent to a fault.
It was Ismael, the Great Warrior of Condemnation.
Turning my eyes, I saw the old woman collapsed some distance away from me. Even with her body cut in half and everything below her neck pinned under rocks, she was still breathing. It was enough to make me sick. I had blasted her with Demon Ore twice and shoved her deep into the earth, yet she was still alive.
However.
“I… have something… I must tell you.”
Strangely, she was different from before.
I don’t feel any power from her.
That terrifying divine power was gone.
It wasn’t just the divine power. She looked like an ordinary old woman now. An old woman whose muscles had shriveled with age, who had never undergone proper training. Not a trace of a Great Warrior’s aura remained in Ismael. None at all.
“Ca, ravan. Your words… pierced my soul.”
“…….”
“Punishment is a means. One must not be consumed by the means. One must know the essence. The means are merely tools that exist for the purpose… Thanks to you, I gained realization in my final moments. Though, because of that, I was forsaken by God.”
“Forsaken by God?”
It was nonsensical.
But Ismael didn’t seem to be in a normal state. She didn’t answer me and just kept spitting out what she wanted to say. Like a parrot repeating the same words.
“Ca, ravan. You, who have realized… You were different from what God warned us about. You were not a being who would bring ruin, but a being who would stop it. The one who would cause ruin was, instead, the one I served.”
“…….”
“I have very little time left. Ca, ravan, please… can you give that teaching to my brothers and sisters as well? Can you make them realize the essence? So they know that faith without doubt leads in the wrong direction….”
Ismael’s voice grew increasingly faint.
“…Ah. Cara, van. Please become a cradle for the weak. Please repay the favors I could not. Please protect the insignificant world, and the small and weak. They don’t need a worn-out cross, but a sword. A sword like you….”
Tears of blood streamed from her eyes.
“The great ones in the heavens loved the heavens, not us. We were merely tools to them. In the most desperate moments, the ones who can save themselves, the ones who can protect the world from ruin, were ultimately the lowliest. It wasn’t about praying and relying on the sky, but about realizing for oneself and finding the right path on one’s own.”
“…….”
“To those who are lost… To the low and weak, your sword… your firm heart might become a doctrine. Not a doctrine that deals with distant creation and order… but a true doctrine that can protect and save oneself in this harsh world….”
Clatter, clatter.
Teeth began to fall from Ismael’s mouth, one by one.
“The path you will walk… it feels as though it will be even more great and noble than the scriptures of the Crusader Order I memorized. You, someday…”
“…….”
“I feel as though you will become a Myth.”
Ismael’s clouded eyes flickered with a brief, final light.
“A myth for the low and insignificant….”
With that, a subtle heat rose in my chest.
An aura both unfamiliar and yet strangely familiar. I knew the identity of this energy.
Divine power. The power that emanated from the Seven Chief Gods and Nine Goddesses.
How is this possible?
I was bewildered. But before I could investigate, Ismael spoke.
“Ca, ravan. Be careful.”
Ismael’s voice grew fainter and fainter. I could barely hear her now.
“…The Seven Chief Gods and Nine Goddesses. The will of the Heavens is to rebuild this world. A world where no one can transcend. A world where no one dares to threaten the Heavens—a one-sided world.”
“…….”
“To completely eliminate the possibility of transcendence opened by the first Caravan… the first Swordmaster, and create a world they can manipulate solely according to their will. I didn’t understand it before, but now I do. The holy war and the vortex of war swirling across the continent… it was all for that. To clean the world. To eliminate everything that could threaten the sky.”
With that, her breathing stopped.
Had she stopped breathing? Was she really dead?
Just as I thought that, Ismael spoke one last time.
“You must beware the Sky Sword.”
Her final voice was surprisingly clear. Unlike the voice that had been struggling to speak until now, it was the ‘final flare’—a phenomenon where one regains their strength for a fleeting moment right before death, like a dying ember flaring up.
“The sword that received the gods’ command to eliminate all transcendents on this land, to slaughter all of the Great Five Families who have the potential to transcend, and to protect the order of the world. The being that erased Caravan from history, and whose purpose is to erase the sword from the continent’s history and the fact that mortals can transcend… the agent of the Heavens. Before long, he will come to eliminate you.”
The Sky Sword.
I had heard of it in the Blade City, Cherny.
I heard it in the Small Land of Swords, when I received a portion of Caravan’s forgotten history from my other ancestors. But I hadn’t heard the details then. All I remembered was a short phrase.
Do not face the Sky Sword.
They are the natural enemy of Steel.
Yes, I had certainly heard those words. The moment I recalled that sentence, I asked back.
“Who is the Sky Sword?”
The natural enemy of Steel. The one responsible for bringing down the Age of Iron in the past. The sword that broke my other ancestors. If it was such a dangerous being, I had to know its identity. Absolutely.
“Answer me. Answer me!”
But the moment I threw the question, Ismael froze like a stone. She remained still, her eyes open and her mouth slightly agape. No. To drop all those hints and then shut her mouth at such a critical moment? I didn’t take my eyes off Ismael.
And then….
“…s.”
From her cracked lips, something that could be either a breath or a voice leaked out. A blurred and mangled sound. But I could hear it clearly. No, there was no way I could mishear it in the first place. Any other name might be different, but that name—that name I could never mishear.
“Carl, os….”
Swordmaster Carlos.
