I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

If one were to describe the relationship between Gray and Panhyma, only a single word would come to mind.

Indifference.
There had been all sorts of scuffles when they first met, but now they simply had no interest in each other.
“⋯⋯.”

“⋯⋯.”
Which meant—
Even if Gray, who had wanted to practice her swordsmanship on the back mountain that day, happened to run into Panhyma there, neither of them would have anything in particular to say.

What the hell is she doing?
Gray tilted her head as she watched Panhyma pressing her ear against the ground.
She had heard rumors that the woman climbed the back mountain at dawn every day to perform this bizarre ritual, but she hadn’t expected her to be up here this early.

Well, there was no need to provoke her.
Gray was circling around to avoid her when suddenly Panhyma muttered.
“⋯⋯Your footsteps are unbearably noisy. You can’t even hear the voice of the earth.”
“Don’t make such a fuss. I’m just walking.”

“⋯⋯?”
Panhyma looked at Gray with shock.
Had she just heard her words and responded?

“How can you possibly speak the tongue of the Sacred Nation?”
“I studied.”
“⋯⋯What?”

“You and my servant kept chatting every day in that weird language of yours, so I listened, memorized a bit, and read some books.”
“⋯⋯.”
“Just how closed off is your homeland? There weren’t any related texts at all—I had to go all the way into the restricted archives to finally find something.”

Panhyma’s gaze went blank.
Could a foreign language really be mastered so easily, just from that?
Especially a language she had been completely illiterate in just a few months ago.

But in response to that doubt, Gray only tilted her head and answered.
“Isn’t someone an idiot if they still can’t learn it after that much?”
“I see. So you’re a beast propped up by extraordinary intellect—that must be why you’re still alive with such a vile temperament.”

A vein bulged on Gray’s forehead.
“How about a sparring match for morning training? You’ve been using that weapon for quite a while, haven’t you? Do it the same way as last time?”
⋯⋯A vein bulged on Panhyma’s forehead as well.
“Do you bark like that at anyone just because you’ve never been beaten before? Looks like I’ll have to teach you some manners.”

If glares carried physical force, sparks would have exploded on the spot.
Gray’s hand went to the Holy Sword, and Panhyma’s hand went to her own blade—
When suddenly, something rolled out from Gray’s sleeve with a clink.

A brooch.
The cutesy, pinkish kind that a little child might wear.
“⋯⋯.”

“⋯⋯.”
A strained silence fell over the tense atmosphere.
Gray’s face flushed as she quickly snatched it up and shoved it back into her pocket.

“What is that?”
Panhyma asked with a forced cough.
“⋯⋯You don’t need to know.”

“It had an insignia engraved on it. Is it from your family?”
“My dad gave it to me as a gift. It’s not like I ever asked for something like this.”
Gray muttered defensively, sulking.

The worst.
Of all people, to show this to her.
No doubt she’d sneer, calling it childish or pathetic.

But—
“⋯⋯I understand.”
The reply that slipped out of Panhyma’s mouth was entirely unexpected.

Gray froze.
“What?”
“If it’s a gift, of course you’d treasure it.”

Panhyma spoke evenly.
There was no scorn, no ridicule—only pure respect in her voice.
“No matter what kind of object it is, there’s no reason to laugh at it.”

“⋯⋯.”
“Family is precious.”
The words carried weight.

The weight of someone who had crossed an entire continent in search of family.
Gray quietly looked at her.
Her expression betrayed that she had no idea how to respond to such an unexpected reaction.

“⋯⋯Yeah.”
After glancing about awkwardly, she murmured back.
“It’s precious.”

The words were almost muttered under her breath.
But they carried undeniable sincerity.
“⋯⋯I’ll do anything to protect it.”

Recently, there was one man who had begun to “get under her skin.”
But before that—
The one who had ensured she retained the bare minimum of humanity so she could keep someone like that at her side—

The one who had always, all her life, stayed by her—was her father.
Even when she was called a monster, even when everyone around her feared her, even when she started going astray and caused endless trouble—
He never said a word, never wavered, and always made it clear he would be on her side to the very end.

Even at the very end, he told her he supported her.
Until she met that man, the only one who had ever done so was her father.
“Still, I see it now. Even a thunderous, naked beast like you has at least some human emotion.”

“Want to die?”
⋯⋯People don’t change so easily, after all.
What a rude bitch.

“By the way, if it was a gift, why shove it in your pocket instead of wearing it properly?”
“⋯⋯.”
⋯⋯Because it’s embarrassing.

But that wasn’t the only reason.
“It’s not something you wear openly. We only carry it on certain occasions.”
“Certain occasions?”

“Just when we might end up in danger. We promised to wear it then.”
To be exact, Gray had waved it off as unnecessary, but Lionel had forcibly shoved it into her hands.
He even pushed the pretext that it would “help each other.”

Whether the Hero needed help—
Or Lionel needed help—
If danger approached either one, the central red jewel would react.

“⋯⋯It’s never actually been needed. My dad’s just overprotective.”
After all, what real danger could possibly threaten a Hero or the Duke of Chasefield? They were among the safest people alive.
Especially now, with Lionel attending a banquet in the Imperial Palace. What could possibly happen there?

⋯⋯Still, the fact that Gray continued to carry it without forgetting revealed just how she truly felt about Lionel.
What could possibly happen?
That was the entirety of Gray’s perception of the matter.

And so—
“Hey.”
When Panhyma cut in with a voice that had gone rigid after hearing that explanation—

An uneasy chill struck directly at Gray’s core.
“What?”
“In that case, perhaps you’d better take a closer look.”

“What are you talking about?”
“Didn’t you say that jewel was supposed to be red?”
“⋯⋯.”

Gray’s expression went blank.
The moment she realized what Panhyma meant, she snatched the brooch from her pocket like lightning.
“⋯⋯Huh?”

And the jewel at its center—
Had turned pitch black.
***

Lionel was a well-known figure in the Empire.
Thanks to his affable and courteous nature, he had no real enemies, his position was high, and his personal strength was remarkable.
But even for him, not every social setting was comfortable.

“So this is the friend you wished to introduce me to, Count Grimbalz?”
“Yes, Duke.”
Lionel quietly regarded the middle-aged man bowing politely before him.

⋯⋯Not someone he liked.
Especially considering that, in the past, this man had gotten entangled with Gray and Carlyle in a most unpleasant way.
One of his retainers had tried something stupid with Carlyle, gotten thrashed by Gray, and then even threatened Lionel himself not to interfere unless he wanted the feud to escalate into a conflict between their houses.

Naturally, the man could hardly harbor goodwill toward Lionel either.
And yet—
Here he was, approaching Lionel in the banquet hall out of nowhere, claiming he had someone he wanted to introduce.

“This is unexpected. For Count Grimbalz to strike up conversation first.”
Lionel pointed this out delicately, but the man only smiled cheerfully.
“There were some quarrels in the past, but such things should be buried, should they not?”

“⋯⋯.”
Lionel gave a slow nod.

And indeed.
Count Grimbalz’s eyes were so clear they made Lionel uneasy.
His family had always been the rough, martial sort—men with foul tempers who were terrible actors, their true thoughts always written plain on their faces.

But this man’s eyes were crystal clear.
As though there was truly ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) nothing hidden within.
As if—he had been blindly “brainwashed” by something.

Best not to get too entangled. Lionel felt a foreboding dread.
“So, this girl is⋯⋯?”
Lionel looked down at the small girl standing beside Count Grimbalz.

Her innocent, vacant expression as she blinked up at him brought an unbidden smile to Lionel’s face.
Count Grimbalz was ominous, but from this one he felt no such unease.
⋯⋯Ah, I see.

And he quickly realized why.
This child—
Somehow resembled Gray.

“Hello, little miss. What brings you to this old man?”
“⋯⋯.”
As Lionel knelt and spoke kindly, the girl flinched and stepped back.

“⋯⋯Did I frighten you?”
When Lionel asked with a wry smile, her gaze fixed on the gloves he wore.
Gloves—that were more like iron gauntlets, studded with menacing spikes.

They were top-grade armor imbued with protective enchantments and holy blessings.
Given Lionel’s importance, he had been permitted to wear them even in the banquet hall.
But if they scared her, he would remove them. Smiling gently, Lionel unfastened the clasps.

“How’s this? Better?”
“⋯⋯.”
The girl hesitantly reached out and pressed her hand against the bare part of his hand.

It was warm.
Reminiscent of Gray when she was young.
“⋯⋯Hello, Duke.”

The girl spoke in a tiny voice.
“Thank you for kindly removing it.”
“It was nothing.”

“No, truly, thank you.”
And that was precisely why—
“I never thought you’d be this gullible.”

⋯⋯The chilling words hit him a moment too late.
“What?”
In an instant—

Green mist billowed out from the girl’s body.
And like a deadly toxin, it spread up Lionel’s unarmored arm, flooding into his body in a single rush.
“⋯⋯!”

His whole body locked up, as if paralyzed.
And then a hazy fog enveloped his consciousness, dragging it under.
“No, really.”

The girl let out a mocking laugh.
“Just because I look a little like your daughter, you let your guard down this far? There’s no bigger fool.”
As if she had deliberately set him up to do exactly that.

This is⋯⋯!
Faintly, he realized—
What was emanating from her was some form of “poison.”

“Now, just sleep. When you open your eyes, everything will be different.”
The venomous whisper crawled into Lionel’s ear.
“Your memories erased, your will submerged, and you’ll become a loyal pet who listens only to me. Understand?”

“-”
And Lionel—
Even hearing such words, his mind was already drifting, too far gone to grasp them.

“⋯⋯Hm? The Duke of Chasefield seems to be unwell⋯⋯?”
“He must be tired. I’ll see him out.”
Count Grimbalz’s voice echoed faintly in his ears.

⋯⋯This can’t be allowed.
Something irreversible was about to happen.
That dreadful sense pounded against the fading edge of Lionel’s consciousness.

But there was nothing he could do. His mind sank, deeper and deeper.
“Really.”
He must have blacked out right then.

“Some things never change. Still the same underhanded tricks as ever.”
⋯⋯Until someone else’s voice cut in.
And then—

—!
With a flash, a burst of light exploded inside the banquet hall.