Surviving as a Barbarian in a Fantasy World

Chapter 270: Drawing the Holy Sword (4)

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 270: Drawing the Holy Sword (4)

The Holy Sword realized something.

It was being forcibly pulled from the ground by Ketal's power.

[W-what in the world...]

The Holy Sword could only be drawn by a chosen one.

That was a rule decreed by the gods themselves when the Holy Sword was sent down to earth.

A command issued directly by the powerful gods was now being broken by a single being.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

Ketal exerted his full strength.

His arms began to break under the strain.

Splurt, splurt!

Blood vessels burst, and blood sprayed like a fountain.

Muscles writhed as if alive, breaking apart.

The Holy Sword was horrified.

[Look at your arm! It's disgusting! Stop it! Please stop!]

Ketal ignored its plea.

To him, this much was nothing.

He had fought countless battles where his limbs were on the verge of being severed—where not even modern medicine could save him.

Creak!

The sword slowly emerged into the world.

Ketal applied even more force.

Finally, the Holy Sword began to yield.

At that moment—

Crack!

The blade, which had been emitting unsettling noises, could no longer endure.

Clang!

With a loud crash, the Holy Sword snapped.

Ketal stared wide-eyed in surprise at the broken sword in his hand.

“Huh. I didn’t expect it to break.”

[…Ah, ah.]

The Holy Sword groaned.

That groan soon turned into a scream.

[Aaaaah, aaaahhhhhhh!]

Power burst forth.

The divine power contained within the Holy Sword exploded out from the broken blade.

It was an overwhelming force that filled the entire room.

The energy wandered chaotically for a moment, then found its target.

It charged toward Ketal, intent on consuming him.

Slice, slice, slice!

The unleashed power turned into sharp blades and surrounded Ketal.

Its intent was clear: to eliminate him.

[Wait! Stop!]

The Holy Sword panicked and tried to control it, but it was already beyond its command.

At some point, Ketal had disappeared, swallowed by the energy.

The very power of the Holy Sword was attacking Ketal.

This was divine will, and no matter how strong he was, it would be hard to come out unscathed.

However—

[W-what?]

The Holy Sword, which had been watching from Ketal's hand, couldn’t believe its eyes.

The energy surrounding Ketal was gradually being sucked in.

And the place it was being drawn into was none other than Ketal's pocket.

“What is this?”

Ketal, noticing something was amiss, looked down at his pocket.

After peering inside for a moment, Ketal understood.

Inside the pocket was a shard of divinity.

The Holy Sword was shocked.

[A-a divine shard? Why do you have that?]

“I had the chance to get it.”

It was a shard he had obtained during the fight with Federica.

But at the time, it had no special power.

It was like an empty vessel.

Now, that vessel was being filled.

It was as if iron filings were being drawn to a magnet.

The power attacking Ketal struggled and resisted, but it couldn’t escape.

All of it was being absorbed by the shard.

Eventually, the entire energy of the room was absorbed into the shard.

The shard was now filled to the brim.

[W-what… what is this?]

The Holy Sword stammered, speechless.

“Hm.”

Ketal, staring at the now fully charged shard, casually tucked it back into his pocket.

He was curious, but it wasn’t something to examine immediately.

“Well, I pulled it out. Or rather, I didn’t.”

The Holy Sword was broken in half.

Though a short part of the blade was still attached to the hilt, most of the blade was stuck halfway into the ground.

“…Hmm.”

As his excitement faded, Ketal felt a sense of embarrassment wash over him.

Even if the words had struck a nerve, losing his composure over a few remarks?

This made him no better than the barbarians he so despised.

Ketal felt deeply ashamed.

“I apologize. Though your words provoked me, it was unbecoming of me to lose control like that.”

The Holy Sword was taken aback once more.

Moments ago, he had been filled with madness, and now, he wore an expression of regret as he apologized.

It felt bizarre to witness the sudden change in demeanor.

[N-no, it’s fine… I was honestly terrified. I’m just glad it ended this way.]

“Thank you for saying that. But… the sword is broken, is it not?”

[Yes. But my essence isn’t in the blade; it’s in the hilt. The blade contains the power of the Holy Sword. In that sense, I suppose I’m lucky. If the hilt had broken, I would have ceased to exist.]

“That’s fortunate. But… what do we do now?”

In his anger, Ketal had attempted to forcibly draw the Holy Sword, breaking it in the process.

The energy within had lashed out to consume him, only to be absorbed by the divine shard he carried.

The unexpected series of events left both Ketal and the Holy Sword confused.

[Well… I’m not sure.]

“Hm.”

After pondering for a moment, Ketal made a decision.

The best course of action was to head outside.

Perhaps speaking with the followers of the God of Swords could offer some answers.

He opened the door, the broken Holy Sword in hand.

Outside, the followers and Kretein were prostrated on the ground.

“Hm? What are you all doing?”

“Ketal?”

Kretein lifted his head, staring blankly at Ketal.

“The ground… it was shaking. What in the world happened?”

As he mumbled, his gaze landed on the broken sword in Ketal’s hand.

His eyes widened in shock.

“W-wait! Did you pull out the Holy Sword?!”

“It’s hard to say.”

Ketal held up the broken sword for him to see.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

“…Huh?”

Kretein’s jaw dropped.

“W-what?”

What was he seeing?

The Holy Sword… it was broken?

No.

That couldn’t be.

He had to be hallucinating.

Kretein tried to deny reality, but Ketal’s words brought him crashing back.

“The sword broke during the process of drawing it. Is there a way to fix it?”

“A-ah…”

The expression of the Kretein crumbled.

* * *

The pilgrims visiting the holy land were flustered.

This was because the path to the holy sword had been completely sealed off.

It had been less than an hour since they were told to wait their turn to draw the sword, and they had been rejoicing over the news.

“What’s going on?”

“Has the owner of the holy sword appeared?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

When the owner of the holy sword appears, it is announced with great fanfare.

They are exalted as the hero, and another festival is held.

But that wasn’t the case.

The followers of the holy land were unusually quiet.

People began speculating.

Perhaps a demon had taken over the chamber of the holy sword.

Or maybe the sword had been stolen.

The guesses kept coming.

But no one had the right answer.

“Ah, greetings. I am Penlero, Saint of Elia.”

Penlero was an elderly man with a plump, kind face.

He was known for his ever-present smile, which made those around him feel at ease.

But here and now, his face was filled with anxiety, with not a trace of his usual smile.

He muttered to himself in disbelief.

“Is… is that really the holy sword?”

In Ketal’s hand was a broken silver sword.

It was unbelievable.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But Ketal shattered his denial.

“It’s the holy sword. It was embedded in the center of the square.”

“Ah, th-that…”

Penlero felt a sudden wave of dizziness.

Struggling to hold himself together, he asked in a trembling voice,

“…What exactly are you saying?”

“Even though it’s broken, a so-called saint can’t recognize its greatness and is whining about it.”

“Ah, ah…”

Penlero covered his face with his hands.

It was real.

It was truly the holy sword.

Ketal asked,

“Can’t you hear it?”

“No, no. Only the chosen one can hear the sword’s voice.”

“Hm?”

Ketal was puzzled by this.

Because he had been able to hear the sword’s voice from the very beginning.

And the sword soon cleared up the confusion.

[No, there’s a misunderstanding in that statement. Even if one is not the chosen one, if they surpass a certain level, they can hear me. Though, on this earth, no one has ever reached that level.]

‘Is that so.’

Ketal nodded in understanding, but then frowned.

“…Didn’t you say you’d scream?”

[That was merely a bluff.]

“Oh, I see. You’re pretty clever.”

[Thank you for the compliment.]

“…Are you speaking with the holy sword right now?”

Ketal nodded, and the saint swallowed hard.

If someone who surpassed a certain level could hear the holy sword, Penlero, who didn’t know this, mistakenly believed that Ketal had been chosen by the sword.

He looked at the broken sword with a face that struggled to comprehend.

“Was it broken from the start?”

“No, it broke during the process of being pulled. The other half is still inside.”

“I’ve heard about that, but… no, this is just…”

Penlero’s face showed he still couldn’t accept it.

Seeing that, Ketal felt a little guilty.

The holy sword was a divine artifact sent by the gods, a great aid to the world in the fight against evil.

And yet, during the process of forcibly pulling it out, the sword had snapped in half, and much of its power had escaped.

Of course, it wasn’t exactly Ketal’s fault.

He had done his best to pull it out, and the sword had broken during that process.

The process itself wasn’t a problem, but somehow, a sense of guilt crept in.

“…I don’t think I can make a decision on my own.”

The saint, who had been groaning, finally collected himself.

“I will have to converse with my master, Lady Elia.”

This wasn’t a matter a human could decide.

He judged that he needed to speak directly with the god who bestowed the sword.

Ketal nodded.

“Do as you see fit.”

“Th-then please wait at the quarters for a moment. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“It’s fine. If anything, I might be the one who should apologize.”

Ketal muttered softly.

The saint left to speak with his god.

Returning to his quarters, Ketal took out the holy sword and placed it on the bed.

The sword was lamenting.

[Aah… I’ve been defiled… Drawn by someone unworthy, and beyond that, broken and drained of most of my power… I can no longer fulfill my duty… No, wait. Now that I think about it, this isn’t so bad.]

The holy sword suddenly regained its composure.

[Hmm. Now that I consider it, I won’t have to lose myself in this state. This is one of those moments where something bad turns out not so bad after all. I’ve just realized it!]

“Are all holy swords as talkative as you?”

[I don’t know about the previous ones. But I was created with as much knowledge of the world as possible. I know a great deal. But I spent hundreds of years locked away in a storeroom, unable to speak to anyone. It was very lonely.]

The holy sword, observing Ketal, muttered.

[…Looking closely, there’s something odd about you. The way you’re layered—it doesn’t feel like you’re disguising yourself. It’s more like you’ve been forcibly twisted and distorted. It’s strange. I can’t tell which part of you is real.]

The sword murmured curiously.

[Your own desires have twisted your very essence. Is that even possible? This is fascinating.]

“You’re the first to tell me that I’m layered.”

[I am a holy sword. Like the fairies, I have the ability to see the essence of things. It’s not about individual strength; it’s more akin to an inherent power. But… there’s something else inside you. It’s too small to see clearly, though.]

“Be quiet.”

[Understood. I don’t know how the gods will react, but for now, you are my owner. It wouldn’t be wise to provoke you. Besides, you scare me.]

“Enough.”

[Yes.]

The holy sword immediately fell silent.

Ketal looked at the sword with an ambiguous expression.

A broken and damaged holy sword.

What should he do with it?

After a brief moment of contemplation, he spoke.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]