novelzi Chapter 223 : Chapter 223
Chapter 223 : Chapter 223
Translator: AkazaTL Pr/Ed: Sol IX
***
That blade was a cursed sword.
Leon Karavan said so. I accepted his words more calmly than expected. Through everything the Karavan ancestors had muttered, through the people who still remembered Karavan, through the countless things Liam himself had whispered—I had already guessed it.
Liam Karavan was a sinner. His karma continued to strangle the Karavans even now. After the Age of Steel ended, his descendants failed to defeat the countless enemies he had created.
The Karavan name vanished from history, and those who deserved to be remembered faded away forgotten.
The absolute being who once dominated an era was forgotten.
The descendants who should have honored him instead hated and rejected him.
The First Steel, left behind alone, sought out the Last Steel and whispered: I will accomplish your revenge.
I recalled all that had led to this moment. And I said: “Even so, it doesn’t matter.”
I meant it.
“No matter what lies at the end, I will move forward.”
Helplessness, terrible loss. A life where I had lost everything. The day Swordmaster Carlos came to my domain, I already died. From the moment I picked up a sword, I was reborn. A new life, gifted to me. Even if my great ancestor were to one day take that life away from me—it didn’t matter. Even if I could go back, I would make the same choice. A hundred times, a thousand times.
“Even if I disappear, it doesn’t matter. Even if harsh trials crush me, it doesn’t matter. Even if the terrifying flames of the world burn me to ash, it doesn’t matter. I walk forward for my purpose. And no harsh trial, no flame of the world, not even the great First Steel can stop my steps.”
“……”
“You say the First Steel will take my body. But to do that, he must defeat me, must he not? That process will not be easy. Perhaps the first Swordmaster from ancient times may even lose to this insignificant descendant. A sword’s worth is known only when it clashes.”
Leon Karavan let out a dry laugh.
“…Arrogant brat.”
“I want to ask you one thing, ancestor.”
“What.”
“Were you afraid to face the First Steel and prove yourself? Is the rope hanging around your neck proof that you hanged yourself out of fear?”
The smile vanished from his face.
“If that is so, then you are a pathetic human being. You surely lived in an age of glory, wielded a blade sharper than mine, stood at a height far greater than mine. You were likely born with brilliance. But your heart is not stronger than mine. Never.”
“…What did you just say?”
“A soul that breaks before clashing can never be called firm.”
Leon Karavan’s pupils trembled. At that moment, I drew my sword and swung.
Whoosh.
The blade passed through his body. I could not cut an incorporeal soul. But I could show Leon Karavan the firmness of my heart.
“You refuse to give me your power? Then do as you wish. Nothing in my life has ever gone smoothly. Especially after I picked up a sword.”
“……”
“The power I require—I will take it myself. If this young descendant displeases you, then get in my way as much as you want. If you want to kill me, try. I will never break, and in the end I will endure and consume all of you.”
***
Leon Karavan stared at Arhan with a blank expression. What had this impudent descendant just said?
A feeling surged inside Leon Karavan—one he had not felt for centuries. He couldn’t even name it.
In the beautiful blue eyes of this delicate, frail-looking descendant, Leon Karavan saw a man of ash-grey.
His father—Liam Karavan.
For a moment, he wondered if that iron-like man had been reborn using the boy’s body.
How could two souls resemble each other so deeply? Was this the power of “bloodline”?
Leon Karavan slowly looked around.
The other Karavans. All his distant and close descendants stared at him.
The Golden Vault held countless treasures— but its true rulers were the souls of the Karavans. And every Karavan soul was under the influence of the strongest soul—Leon Karavan.
The Karavans who normally watched him anxiously… were now sending him their will through their eyes. Help the boy. If we don’t help such a desperate descendant, who will? Let go of old regrets. Do what we must do. We who have vanished must help the young who still live.
“…Your name?”
“Arhan. Arhan Karavan.”
“Arhan Karavan…”
Leon Karavan quietly spoke.
“I know nothing of your circumstances. Unlike your other ancestors, my soul has worn thin—I’ve lost the ability to see through other souls. Only one blade remains to me.”
“……”
“And you can only take one blade from this Golden Vault. If you take more, your soul will not endure.”
He looked at me.
“You said you would never break?”
“Yes.”
A boy. There was a boy standing there. Leon Karavan looked at him and remembered a distant past— back when he had a body, walked the middle realm, trained in the wide garden of a grand mansion.
The grey man who watched him. His gaze is like a blade— treating him not as a son but as a weapon. Words colder than any sword. And without even a single farewell— the man left the world.
After the short recollection, Leon Karavan said:
“Then endure.”
“……”
“Arhan Karavan. The blade you will take from the Golden Vault… is the sword containing my soul.”
I had said it. A soul that breaks before clashing is not firm. Leon Karavan felt insulted— yet he could not deny it. He himself believed it.
But… who could have survived what he did? How could a child endure such horror?
Yet before him stood a boy— younger than Leon Karavan had been back then. And the pain the boy carried… did not look any lighter.
This boy. Arhan Karavan— how had he endured?
Leon Karavan wondered.
If you were in my place… would you have survived?
“You said you needed strength?”
If he had survived… would his despairing life have changed?
Leon Karavan wondered.
“My blade contains the strongest power in this Golden Vault.”
A worthless boy— yet a boy with a soul resembling the greatest of men.
Would he have created a different ending? What would that ending have looked like?
A faint light began to form in Leon Karavan’s empty eyes.
“The power closest to Steel. If you completely digest my blade, you will possess a force greater than if you ate every Karavan sword that existed in the Age of Steel.”
“……”
“But if you fail to digest it, your journey ends here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will be overwhelmed by my soul. Trapped within it. And you will never leave this Golden Vault. You will wait until another Karavan comes. And you are the last Karavan. No other Steel bloodline remains in the middle realm.”
“……”
“Do you understand?”
Leon Karavan looked at Arhan. A small boy— with a soul writhing inside, a soul resembling Steel.
“It’s the same choice as always.”
“The same?”
“My life after picking up a sword has always been a cliff—one slip and I fall. Nothing has changed from the beginning.”
“Truly? Even after dragging your insignificant body all the way to the brink of Immortality, you still choose as recklessly as before? Without regret?”
“As I said—nothing has changed.”
No hesitation at all.
Hearing those words, Leon Karavan thought:
Ah. This boy does not carry the soul of Steel.
He carries Steel—yes. He resembles the First Steel—yes. But he is not the same.
“A Swordmaster can only be killed by a Swordmaster.”
The boy did not carry Steel’s soul. He carried a flame.
“That is why I must become a Swordmaster.”
Steel exists alone—perfect only in solitude. But flame is different. Flame spreads— clinging to all things, burning all things, consuming the world until only itself remains.
“If I am not a Swordmaster, every realm I’ve reached means nothing. Nothing has changed from before or after I took up the sword. Nothing.”
Flame does not break.
Leon Karavan stared blankly for a moment. Then he twitched a finger.
A sword of black iron flew toward me, stopping in front of me in midair.
“Ancestor, what is the name of your blade?”
I asked while the sword hovered.
Leon Karavan slowly spoke:
“Matchstick.”
A name forgotten by now.
***
“The Golden Vault… it feels like a dream.”
The Dwarf Kingdom. The fortress that protected their nation.
One of the captains guarding Grand Marshal Dwight spoke.
“If I could, I’d follow along by myself.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“Golden brilliance, remnants of Steel… so romantic.”
The dwarves laughed among themselves. Dwight didn’t show it, but he was excited too.
The legend passed down in the Dwarf Kingdom— a legend no one believed— had come true.
Glory would return. Dwarves would no longer need to hide below the earth. They would finally live free.
Dwight tightened his grip on his massive hammer. At last, dwarves would walk under open skies, unafraid of invasion. And,
“You all seem happy.”
A man in a red robe appeared among the chatting dwarves.
“What’s so amusing?”
The dwarves turned. The man’s robe was as red as blood, and strangely, his hair was the same vivid red. So were his eyes. A man drenched in red.
The dwarves froze— because his pupils were vertical, reptile-like.
Which meant only one thing: Dragon.
A dragon had appeared atop the fortress wall.
“Tell me something… dwarves.”
Thrust—!
The dwarves reacted instantly, thrusting their spears.
The blades pierced his robe, tore flesh— a perfect hit.
They thought their quick reaction saved them.
“…Ah. You’re all so tense.”
But they were wrong.
“You know…”
The red robe became flames. His hair, his eyes, his skin—all turned to fire. The blazing fire became a pillar— and in the next moment, flames large enough to swallow the fortress wall surged upward.
The roaring fire took the shape of a dragon.
“…did you say something I shouldn’t hear?”
A dragon larger and stronger than any dwarf had ever witnessed.