Blacksmith – Part 06
Cecily’s breath caught in her throat. She almost denied it, but stopped herself. She knew he was telling the truth. History itself proved it—the Proxy Pact War.
“The Aetheria is Valbanill’s curse,” Luke explained. “Sealed by human hands, it harbored a deep hatred for mankind. In its spite, it unleashed Aetheria across the land, marking every human heart with a death spell.”
This death spell was an incantation that triggered a Demon Pact. Only the one branded with it could read and activate the inscription, so nations performed horrific surgeries under the guise of conscription, forcing recruits to either decipher the spell carved into their exposed chests under local anesthesia or to read the inscription copied from their hearts after surgery. It was a twisted, brutal method used to coerce them into forming Demon Pacts.
In essence, it was a trigger for an unbreakable contract—one that demanded human flesh as payment.
This curse had seeped into every corner of the continent, inscribing its mark on all humans.
“Over the years, this curse spread like a disease, embedding itself in the hearts of all. Just as Valbanill had planned, it threw the continent into chaos as nations recklessly abused Demon Pacts, pushing humanity to the brink of extinction.”
The first Housman, founder of the Independent Trade City, had established Prayer Pacts as a form of religion. It took hold quickly, spreading through the city’s culture. History viewed it as a stroke of genius, but now, knowing the truth, Cecily struggled to admire his achievements.
What once was a curse had become the foundation for humanity’s revival. The very Aetheria that nearly drove the continent to ruin had also allowed it to flourish again.
To put it bluntly, it reeked of human greed and cunning, nothing short of pure irony. And the conflict being referred to as the Valbanill War was no coincidence.
“It sounds like some far-fetched legend,” Cecily muttered.
“It’s not a legend. The continental nations, Housman, and the Continental Law Commission have all worked to bury this.”
Cecily was left speechless. Luke revealed this monumental secret so casually, she didn’t know how to react. Still, something gnawed at her.
How does he know all of this?
“Cecily Campbell, let me ask you again—why is the Aetherial concentration so high here?”
The question snapped her back to reality. She looked out over the Independent Trade City—the Ashen Woods, the gray skies, and far off in the distance, the looming shadow of the volcano.
“That’s right. Valbanill is within Blair Volcano, still spewing Aetheria,” Luke said, matter-of-factly. “And it’s waiting for the Sacred Sword that sealed it to decay. That’s why the nations are scrambling to recreate it.”
“Why?”
Cecily’s throat felt dry. This conversation had long strayed from casual.
Swallowing hard, she asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
“My childhood friend was killed by Valbanill. We’re here.”
“Huh?”
They had reached a gentle-sloping hill. The wind rustled the grass, and at the foot of the hill stood a cluster of gravestones. As Cecily took in the view, realization dawned on her.
They were at the communal graveyard of the Sixth District. It was where the citizens of the Independent Trade City were laid to rest, including her recently-deceased father. The city’s monasteries were concentrated here for that reason. Those who perished in last month’s incident were buried here as well. Though his body was never recovered, Jack Strader had a grave marker here too.
“Wait!” Cecily called, hurrying to catch up to Luke. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but the words just wouldn’t come. Silently, she followed him.
In Luke’s hand, he held a single white flower with a long stem. An offering for the dead.
Luke stopped in front of a gravestone, brushing away a thin layer of dust before placing a single flower upon it.
Engraved on the stone was the name Liza Oakwood.
“Liza?” Cecily muttered.
“Liza Oakwood. The woman I couldn’t protect.”
Cecily struggled to find the words. All she could do was run her gaze over the name Liza Oakwood. Next to it stood another gravestone, and Luke placed a flower on it as well.
Basil Ainsworth.
She didn’t recognize the name, but given the surname, it was likely one of Luke’s relatives.
“Three years ago, I was still an apprentice,” Luke began. “My swordsmanship and forging skills were lacking, and I wasn’t allowed to work in the forge without my father’s permission. One time, I tried to steal some jewel steel to practice forging with Lisa, my childhood friend, and I got in serious trouble for it. My father kept meticulous track of every piece of jewel steel, you see. With his permission, I only ever managed to make one proper katana. You know there’s a tatara furnace at the base of Blair Volcano, right? My father used to go there regularly to buy jewel steel. On that day, Lisa and I tagged along. While my father chatted with the old man who ran the forge, Lisa and I got bored and decided to explore deeper into the volcano. It was just for fun. We ventured deeper and deeper inside. Liza, ever the curious one, was thrilled. That’s when we found it—an Inhuman, chained up. It was mumbling something. We didn’t know it was Valbanill. We approached carelessly. Even though it was chained, its limbs weren’t restrained. It attacked. My father, who had come looking for us, shielded us and was killed. Lisa died too. I… I ran. I was the only one who survived—”
“Enough!” Cecily interjected, grabbing his arm.
She felt the urge to stop him. She was afraid that if he kept speaking, something might happen to him.
“I’m fine. Sorry.” Luke turned to her, slowly. His right eye appeared eerily calm, devoid of emotion, making it indistinguishable from his artificial left eye.
Unable to bear the sight, Cecily looked down. A lot of things started to click.
Why Luke Ainsworth forged katanas solely for himself. And that wasn’t all. He sought a sword capable of killing God, something Lisa had let slip before. The origin of the forge’s name, Liza. Everything made sense now.
Even his refusal to use Prayer Pacts in his everyday life. Because its source was Valbanill.
Now that she thought about it, Cecily’s father might have known about that beast too. That’s why he avoided using Prayer Pacts.
Everything connected—the past, and the future Luke now chased. She could easily guess where it all led.
“Do you… want revenge?” Cecily asked.
“I can’t do that.”
Surprised, she raised her head. “You can’t?”
“If I kill Valbanill, the Aetheria will vanish from the continent.”
“Sure, people relying on Pacts might struggle, but that just means losing Prayer Pacts. It’s not like they wouldn’t survive.”
“Do you know how the Ashen Woods work?”
She did. Between the city and the volcano lay the Ashen Woods, also known as Housman Forest. The trees there absorbed Aetheria, trapping the volcanic ash spewed by Blair Volcano. As a result, the ash remained suspended above the forest, never falling on the city. That was the principle behind the sky’s two colors.
Realization dawned on her. “If the Aetheria disappear…”
“The city will be buried under volcanic ash and destroyed. That’s why we can’t kill Valbanill.”
Even if the seal awakened, the best they could do was reapply the seal.
Luke sighed. “Besides, revenge is pointless. Killing that thing won’t bring Liza back. It won’t bring my father back. It’s a waste.”
He was lying.
Then why did he stubbornly insist on forging katanas for himself? Why name the forge Liza? He was searching for a sword that could slay a god, wasn’t he? A weapon meant to kill, not seal.
Grilling him would’ve been easy, but Cecily couldn’t bring herself to speak. She couldn’t intrude.
Luke’s attitude seemed nothing more than a flimsy front—thin enough you could see right through it, yet sturdy enough to keep her at a distance. She could almost hear a voice inside her urging her not to pry.
How self-centered could he be? After laying himself bare, he still wouldn’t let her in.
A question popped into her mind. What about Lisa? When was she born? From everything he’d said so far, it seemed like she was deeply involved in this matter.
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