Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, Vol. 5 (35 page)

If he’d been able to let go of his vanity, things might have turned out differently.

“I…!”

Welf hated magic swords.

They gave anyone the power to take down the strongest of enemies with a flick of the wrist. They were nothing more than a magical weapon that indulged its user. They destroyed his family, other smiths, and users by rotting them from the inside.

But above all else, magic swords would inevitably break and leave their user behind.

Welf loathed magic swords.

“…!”

Suddenly, a hill of trees he’d seen before came into view. He was sure that the weapon had fallen among them and was sitting somewhere in the tall grass.

Sleeping, never used by anyone, the hilt untouched and pure.

Not broken, simply at rest.

“Hey, where are you?! Say something!!”

He yelled down the hill as he made his way farther and farther into the woods.

It was much darker now than he remembered because of the subtle glow of the blue crystals far above his head. It was as if a dark blanket had been cast over the forest.

“Ironic isn’t it? I know, I KNOW!! I threw you away and now I’m asking you for help!”

Welf knew there was no chance of a response, but he kept screaming at the top of his lungs anyway.

His head was on a swivel as he crisscrossed his way through the dense forest.

“But there’s someone who needs my help! Please
let me break you!!”

A soft red glow appeared out of nowhere as if to answer his call.

Welf saw it immediately and sprinted to its side. It was sticking out of a pile of moss, hilt high in the air.

The white cloth was starting to unravel, exposing the top part of the blade and guard-less handle attached to it. The blade of the weapon pulsed and flickered like a flaming red jewel at his feet. Welf swiftly grabbed the hilt and pulled it into the air.

Resting the weapon on his right shoulder, he raced back up the hill.

“…!”

Welf grimaced at this new weight on his shoulders.

The strength of a magic sword—it would shatter as soon as it was used too many times. That was the price for a weapon that wielded the same power as magic. That was its unavoidable fate.

It could never become the trusted partner of its user, never experience the good times or the bad. It could never be counted on to be there until the end, always breaking first.

Welf hated magic swords. They would abandon their user without fail.

Magic swords could never fulfill their duty as a weapon. That was their destiny, and he hated it.

—That was it, pointless and painful sympathy.

While corrupting users and smiths alike, each individual sword could never fill the role of a dependable partner in battle. Therefore, they were left to sleep with no chance of meeting a user who would honestly consider it a valuable partner.

As someone who could forge magic swords, Welf felt sorry for them
felt their pain.

“!”

He emerged from the forest. He could see the Goliath trapped under a cracking, violet dome off in the distance. Monsters and adventurers were engaged in an all-out brawl directly in front of him. Bell stood not too far behind their battle, a large black sword in his hands.

The sound of church bells flooding his ears, Welf immediately understood what was going on. Swearing he wouldn’t let Bell take another hit like that, he charged away from the forest and toward the chaos in front of him.

A swarm of monsters cut him off in no time. The red-haired man moved the cloth-covered weapon into position.

“All of you! If you don’t have a death wish, get out of the waaayyyy!!”

Welf swung the blade sideways in front of his chest—a wildfire stampeded forward.

The wide-eyed adventurers managed to get out of its path at the last moment, armor singed as every single monster was reduced to ash on contact. The great plain turned into a smoldering mess in its wake.

The adventurers stared in disbelief as the last bit of white cloth burned away, revealing the rest of the blade.

There were no decorations to be seen, just a long crimson blade and a handle. The absolutely stunning weapon looked as though it were carved directly out of solid rock, simple and beautiful.

Crack!
A small line grew down the middle of the blade just below Welf’s hand. Welf glared down at the magic sword that started to fall apart after just one use before he took off yet again.

“It’s breaking…?!”

Mikoto yelled out a warning to the others as the giant slammed both of its fists into the outer barrier created by her gravity magic. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” it roared as the field shattered around it, releasing the Goliath from its cage. Lyu and Asfi once again prepared for battle—when Welf ran out in front of them.

The young man stood in front of the Goliath, his right hand gripping the hilt of the sword he was holding behind his back.

A strange calm filled the air as man and beast locked eyes. Then suddenly, heroically—

One swing.

And just for this one attack, Welf yelled the name of his magic sword at the top of his lungs.

“Burning Moon, Kadukiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!”

The blaze instantly cast bright shadows over everything and everyone.

A crimson pyre sprang to life. Flames erupted from the blade of the magic sword; the Goliath was engulfed in a scorching inferno.

The Goliath’s howls of pain were drowned out by the roaring fire as its body was overrun by the flames.

“
AAAAaaaaa?!”

The giant’s body burned as if trapped in the fires of hell.

Its self-regeneration couldn’t keep up. The fire burned away any progress it made. The moment one of the red specks healed a piece of its hide, the flames burned it away. The Goliath only had enough magic energy to maintain a physical form, and it was running out of energy fast.

For the first time during this long fight, permanent damage had been seared into the floor boss’s skin.

“My word, a Crozzo Magic Sword…!”

“It’s stronger—stronger than the original magic?!”

Asfi and Lyu watched the firestorm intensify right in front of their eyes. This was not the power of some conjured magic. They were witnessing a power strong enough to incinerate an elves’ forest in the blink of an eye.

As the legend said, Crozzo’s Magic Swords were strong enough to
“set fire to the ocean.” Every ounce of that strength had just been unleashed.

“
”

The sword released one final torrent of flames before a small network of cracks appeared on the blade.

The cracks started to multiply, cutting deeper and deeper until finally the blade shattered right in front of Welf.

“—Sorry.”

His shoulders drooped as he whispered under his breath while he watched the thousands of shards fall to the ground, clinking as they hit.

—Three minutes.

Bell stood silently when he realized how much time had passed.

He had been patiently waiting, his ruby-red gaze trained straight forward.

And right in the middle of his field of vision stood the black giant, Goliath. At this moment, most of its body was hidden by massive flames and billowing smoke. However, its red glow was by far the brightest source of light in the darkness that covered the eighteenth floor.

Bell aimed the massive black sword in his hands toward the beast that had repelled so many other adventurers’ attacks with ease.

His Skill required a mental image of a hero to trigger. The image in his mind: the Great Hero David.

A hero who had defended his homeland by standing up to and defeating an enormous enemy in combat.

David’s heroic deeds etched into his mind’s eye, Bell slowly but surely started to lean forward.

“—Everyone, open a pathhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

He sprang forward.

Hestia’s order came from behind as he closed the distance, slicing through the great plain.

He was on a straight path toward the glowing red monster. Even more church bells rang out as his black sword was bathed in his own white light. Even the blood flowing out of his wounds seemed to propel him forward. His friends had given him this window of opportunity to attack—it would be the last, and he had to make it count.