Our Family Has Fallen

"It's not your fault, My Lord. If I had been able to manage the convoy and return sooner, none of this would have happened. It was my negligence that led to this situation. The fact that you haven't punished me already leaves me uneasy, let alone these gifts."

With those words, Reynard solemnly closed his eyes.

"Because of those two, we almost failed the task assigned by My Lord. If the grand plan had been ruined because of my mistake, that would be a consequence I could not bear, even in death."

"We are not one of those religions, so don't give me that spiel!" Lance's previously gentle demeanor became firm as he rebuked sharply. "Why do we fight against evil? For the world, for humanity, and for ourselves. If we can't even protect our own families, what's the point of fighting evil! You must remember, the most powerful weapon against corruption is the brilliance of humanity. We may not be related by blood, but our shared faith binds us together. As long as you remain steadfast, that faith will be your strongest weapon."

Realizing his mistake, Reynard looked crestfallen.

"Enough about this matter! Take some time to care for your children and spend time with your family."

Lance didn't linger on the topic. Instead, he opened a box and took out the Longsword.

Reynard's attention was quickly captured by the sword. As he handled it, he could feel its impeccable balance, and a smile uncontrollably spread across his face.

"A fine sword! This must be a Master's work."

Lance chuckled, seeing Reynard lovingly stroke the sword. He probably doesn't even look at his wife with such adoration, Lance thought.

"Come on, let me introduce you to the weaponsmith who forged this sword. It will be easier to talk to him about maintaining your weapon, or maybe even getting a new suit of armor crafted."

As part of the Hamlet City reconstruction project, Lance, to show its importance, had allocated a large plot of land to the artillery workshop for all related manufacturing. Although it was called a workshop, the main structure had not yet been built; there was just an open space. Fortunately, he had prepared the necessary forging equipment in Totnes. While the conditions were a bit basic, it didn't affect temporary use.

As they approached the site, the intense sound of hammering grew louder. The craftsmen were busy working, and the tall, sturdy figure of Winston stood out among them.

"Winston!" Lance called out as he led Reynard over.

Seeing the visitors, Winston, visibly excited, put down his hammer and hurried over, though he also noticed Reynard by Lance's side.

"My Lord, I was just about to look for you. That weapon you had me craft was no simple task."

Lance saw the smile on Winston's face and knew the weapon was a success. He also recognized the undertone of someone seeking praise in Winston's words. However, knowing Winston's prideful nature, Lance understood what he wanted and was generous with his praise.

"Of course, it wasn't easy. Otherwise, I wouldn't have entrusted it to a forging master of your skill. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me."

"HA HA HA!" Winston laughed heartily, slapping his chest and assuring, "Rest assured, My Lord. I thought about it for days on the ship, and I've been working on this weapon ever since. The final product is complete."

As he spoke, he led them to a nearby table covered with a cloth. He lifted the cloth, revealing a simply designed broad-bladed greatsword. A groove ran along its spine, intended to reduce weight while adding strength.

"This..." Reynard frowned upon seeing it. As a master swordsman who had wielded many blades, this weapon was entirely beyond his comprehension. It looked more like a slab of iron than a sword, not conforming to any design he recognized, and it appeared very crude.

Reynard's unspoken critique seemed to sting Winston, who quickly defended his creation. "This is the finest steel I could find in Totnes, forged exactly to My Lord's specifications."

Noticing Reynard's reaction, Lance suggested in a teasing tone, "Why not give it a try?"

Naturally, Reynard wouldn't refuse My Lord's request. He reached for the hilt, and as he tried to lift it, his expression turned peculiar. It took both his hands to even pick up the sword.

Speaking of bladed weapons, a typical one-handed Short Sword weighs around one to two pounds, while a two-handed Longsword usually weighs only about four to five pounds. This might sound light, but swinging one repeatedly can quickly sap a person's strength. Thus, legendary heavy weapons weighing dozens or even hundreds of pounds are somewhat unrealistic. Similarly, even the most exaggerated two-handed Longswords generally do not exceed 1.3 meters in length. Weapons are meant to serve their wielders; beyond that length, they become difficult for ordinary people to control. Only those with particularly large statures would custom-order weapons exceeding standard specifications, like the Great Shields used by certain warriors.

However, this greatsword definitely weighed more than thirty pounds, with a blade length of 1.6 meters. Including the hilt, the entire sword was almost 1.8 meters long, and its blade width was also quite exaggerated. It didn't seem like a weapon a normal person could use at all. Reynard was confident his strength was considerable. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to cut down enemies daily while wearing armor. But this weapon was simply beyond his control.

Forget cutting anyone down; he felt tired just picking it up.

"How does it feel?" Lance asked.

Only after setting the greatsword down did Reynard manage to ask, "My Lord, is this a training sword?"

The only use he could imagine for this sword was for the 'Limit Warrior Project' My Lord had mentioned—using such a weapon to train their strength and endurance, forging them into exceptionally strong special soldiers.

Under normal circumstances, Reynard would have been right; the sword would indeed serve only as a training tool.

But this world possessed Supernatural Power...

"No!" Lance grinned and reached out. "This is my weapon."

Grasping it, Lance felt its immense, solid weight. He had always found other weapons too light, feeling feathery in his hand, but this one put even him under pressure. Previously, he had never been satisfied with the weapons he used. They were too light; swinging them felt like waving a tree branch. They were also too soft; any significant exertion of force would cause them to chip or warp.

So, after finding Winston, he had discussed his needs. Winston initially recommended a Warhammer. However, Lance knew that the Heretics practiced Flesh Sorcery, especially those implanted with a 'Seed,' and blunt weapon attacks would scarcely threaten them. Not to mention the indescribable Aberrant Demons, for whom edged weapons were more suitable. That was why they finally settled on this greatsword design, to be crafted by Winston.

This was a weapon far beyond ordinary human limits. Of course, only such a weapon could slay those inhuman beings.

"HA!" Lance dragged the greatsword into an open area. With a low shout and an exertion of force, the sword that had been so unwieldy in Reynard's hands began to move in his grasp.

Chopping, slashing, stabbing—using heavy weapons required skill. One needed to know how to exert force and leverage the weapon's weight. These seemingly simple swings, though not fast, audibly sliced through the air, creating a palpable sense of immense pressure.

No one knew what would happen if this sword struck a target, but Reynard was certain that even Knight's Armor would offer no chance of survival against it. If it didn't cut, it would crush. That was the advantage of its sheer weight.

Witnessing this, Reynard was astounded. Just how extraordinary is My Lord's strength?

The group of craftsmen also paused their work to watch. The sight of Lance wielding the greatsword was truly awe-inspiring! For Winston, the smith who forged it, this scene was even more thrilling. To craft a weapon for such a heroic figure was a form of recognition, a true honor for any craftsman.

Lance didn't use his Blessings to enhance his strength or maintain his stamina; he was testing the limits of both the weapon and his own body. But even with his extraordinary strength, he could only wield it effectively for two or three minutes. In a more intense battle, he would likely be exhausted within a minute, as true combat demands the engagement of every muscle.

Nevertheless, the feel of the sword gave him a profound sense of security. If I'd had this sword back then, he thought, dealing with the Collector wouldn't have been such a struggle. A single stroke could have cut him in half at the waist. Yes, even if it didn't slice clean through, it would have shattered him.