Chapter 61: The Comedian Hero's Message

"Why is there a sword here? And why is it stuck in a stone?"

Illuvia walked somewhat curiously toward the rectangular, gray-blue stone slab placed right in front of the massive gates.

She began to examine the stone closely, which resembled an inscription tablet.

Before long, she found three clear lines of text carved into the stone.

"I come by promise, and here I witness the forging of an oath."

"I shall here witness the return of the holy sword."

"I shall here witness... Huh? Why are these words crossed out?"

As Illuvia was reading the inscription, she noticed that the final characters of the last line had been scratched out.

By this time, Flamme had also figured out a few things and stepped forward to explain: "Since it has been crossed out, there is no need to dwell on it."

"She must have had her reasons for doing so."

"She?" Illuvia looked at Flamme. "Who are you referring to?"

"The Hero, of course. Surely you haven't lived without hearing her stories?"

A rare, proud smile touched the corners of Flamme's lips.

"The Hero?! Wait, could this sword be..."

"Mm-hmm, it's Himmel's sword. I gave it to her."

"The Hero was a woman?!"

Hearing this, Flamme could not help but retort: "Tch, it's precisely because of people with your mindset that she had to disguise herself as a man."

"Still, her plan turned out quite successfully."

"Precisely because everyone assumed the Hero was male, she was able to spend the rest of her life in peace."

"I attended her funeral fifty years ago."

Illuvia was somewhat astonished. "She actually lived that long?"

Normally, elite human powerhouses—even those at the ninth-tier legendary rank—had a lifespan of only around one hundred and fifty years unless they employed special longevity-extending methods.

Mages tended to live slightly longer because they did not excessively drain the primal source of magic within their bodies, which symbolized the origin of life.

Warrior-class powerhouses had much shorter lifespans, typically capped around a century.

This was a characteristic of humankind.

A brief lifespan, yet possessing a higher magical affinity than the elfin race.

Though their bodies were inherently frail, through rigorous training they could rival the naturally formidable demon race.

And they were very prolific.

In exchange, the world maintained its balance through their lifespans.

Even though a ninth-tier powerhouse in life could move mountains and fill seas—with the strongest among them capable of stirring the eternal magic storms across the tempestuous oceans—none of this was an exaggeration.

Yet in the face of death, they merely lived a few years longer than ordinary mortals.

And this legendary Hero, who had slain the Demon King, was only laid to rest fifty years ago?

Did that mean she had lived to be nearly three hundred years old?!

That was almost double the lifespan of a normal ninth-tier powerhouse!

"Considering she was strong enough to face the Demon King head-on, her power had long since surpassed the limits of 'humanity'."

Flamme sighed with a hint of emotion. "It is a pity. Had she not chosen to turn away from crossing that final threshold, perhaps the pantheon worshiped by the Holy See would have gained another deity today."

"That truly is a pity." Illuvia felt a genuine sense of regret for the Hero she had only ever heard of in legends.

Flamme stepped forward to inspect the sword left behind by the Hero, then placed her hand upon its hilt.

Soon, a somewhat lively female voice echoed from within the weapon.

[Whoever pulls this sword from the stone shall be the sovereign of all Hesta!]

[Ahem, though I'd love to say that, this sword is actually just for show.]

[It's not worth much anyway, so let's just leave it here as a souvenir.]

[Besides, it is the sword left behind by the Hero who slew the Demon King, so I suppose it counts as the Hero's Sword, right?]

[It should be enough to satisfy Flamme, turning her gift into the Hero's Sword. A pretty decent return gift, I'd say.]

[Oh, right—if you are a member of the royal family inheriting the throne, just ignore this speech and the sword.]

[This is purely meant to liven up the atmosphere.]

[Don't pay too much attention to the words on the stone either; that Iron Duke carved them, and it has nothing to do with me. Anyone who knows me knows I'm illiterate and can't read.]

[I was just dragged here by the new Majesty to act as a witness—a spectator, to put it bluntly. I can never understand the thought processes of these nobles. Why must they make such a big deal out of a sense of ritual?]

[Making a big deal out of the ritual is one thing, but they wouldn't even let me see what's inside. Then what on earth did they invite me here for?]

The complaints and sarcastic remarks went on and on, as if they would never end.

Flamme silently severed her magical connection to the sword.

Hearing the voice of her old friend was nostalgic, indeed.

Yet this familiar wave of noise-making was still quite unbearable.

Just as unbearable as it had been three hundred years ago.

Sure enough, no matter how much time passed, this fool was still just as annoying.

Illuvia: "..."

Illuvia felt as though her idealized image of the Hero was rapidly shattering.

After taking a few deep breaths, Flamme silently clenched her fists, leaped onto the stone, and yanked the sword free.

The next time I have a free moment, I'm going to shove this damn sword right into your gravestone!

And here I thought it was some kind of clue!

Here I was overthinking everything, imagining you had some special purpose for showing up here!

Here I was believing there was actually something incredible inside this secret chamber!

Stowing the sword away—and taking the stone along with it into her storage artifact—Flamme then produced the key to the ancestral secret chamber.

The key, which looked completely indistinguishable from an ordinary household door key, underwent a dramatic transformation the moment Flamme brought it close to the grand gates.

A gentle blue radiance enveloped the palm holding the key, and within moments, the key—originally no wider than a finger—began to dissolve into a myriad of blue silken threads, scattering throughout the dim subterranean space.

The torches used for illumination were brushed and wrapped by the dancing threads, swaying and casting a flickering glow.

The very next instant, these threads flew toward the gates before her, weaving and embedding themselves one by one into the almost imperceptible fine grooves on the surface of the doors.

As every thread settled back into place, the grand gates flared with the same ethereal blue light, followed by the harsh, grating sound of stone grinding against stone.

"Screeeeech..."

The gates swung open.

Yet the scene on the other side left both Flamme and Illuvia somewhat startled.

Flamme tilted her head and instinctively muttered, "Avalon?"

While Illuvia widened her eyes in disbelief. "Is this what an underground landscape looks like?"

Reflected in their eyes was a sunlit, verdant lakeside.

The surface of the lake was tranquil, and the sunlight was warm and gentle.

Flowers, birds, fish, and insects wove together a symphony, while a gentle breeze carried the scent of moisture, making this underground secret chamber feel remarkably bright and cheerful.

"A pocket dimension?" The well-traveled Flamme quickly saw through the illusion of the scenery before them.
Though it appeared to be right behind the door, this pocket dimension did not actually exist within physical space.

It operated on the exact same principle as the library pocket dimension of the Continent's Historical Records Society.

It could only be entered through a specific entrance using a specific method.

"Could that sword be... Durendal?"

"No, the color is wrong."

Flamme's gaze quickly gravitated toward a massive, person-tall greatsword planted diagonally by the lakeshore.

It bore a striking resemblance to the holy sword Durendal wielded by the Knight King of her memory.

However, compared to that pristine, silver-white holy sword, the blade before her was a silver-gray and covered entirely in dense incantations; it was definitely not the holy sword once wielded by the legendary Knight King.