Sacred Sword’s Sheath (Sacrifice) – Part 05
A sword forged from his most recent experience, it was now imbued with additional power.
Luke turned toward Cecily, who stood frozen in shock.
He nearly fainted from the agony. Lisa’s Infernal Bladecraft came at a steep price. The demon offered its own flesh, and the caster sacrificed their own soul.
Though the toll could be somewhat limited, Luke had discarded such constraints. The power came at the cost of draining his very soul. And he never held back, always giving everything he had.
As a result, the strain on his soul now tore through him mercilessly. The vision in his remaining right eye flickered and vanished, distorting his sight. A searing pain spread, threatening to crush every bone in his body, driving him to the brink of madness.
His senses faltered, his mind teetering on the edge of collapse.
Just as his consciousness was about to drown in the excruciating toll, he heard it.
“Why?”
Cecily’s voice.
Luke forced his half-closed eyelids open.
Don’t let her notice!
He straightened his bent knee and stood tall, refusing to fall.
He couldn’t let her see this weakness. While she might ignore her own injuries, she couldn’t bear to see others sacrifice themselves. She’d blame herself, foolishly thinking she was the cause of it, hurting herself in the process. He didn’t want any of that.
So, even as his soul shredded, he forced himself to suppress it. He couldn’t falter until the task was complete. He had to appear unaffected. Just as Cecily’s father had concealed everything from her.
Deceive her completely.
He steadied his erratic breathing. His body was drenched in sweat, but the worst had passed. His soul was drained, but he was still alive. His right eye still saw.
Luke lifted the Infernal Katana into a guard position. “Don’t move,” he warned Cecily.
She didn’t. She was too overwhelmed to react. That was fine.
He wasn’t going for a sweeping slash. What he needed was a single, precise strike. A blow that would sever the curse without touching anything else.
Luke Ainsworth envisioned it sharply. His father’s chokutō. The thrust that Liza Oakwood and Cecily Campbell favored.
A piercing thrust. That was it. He pictured the blade piercing solely the curse binding the heart, without harming the skin, flesh, or bone. The Infernal Katana in his hand wasn’t a straight sword but a curved one, meaning it wasn’t strictly suited for thrusting. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t thrust at all.
It would work. I can do this!
Luke released the weapon from his side, pouring all his soul, weight, and strength into the thrust. A beam of light surged forward.
The flash from the Infernal Katana hit Cecily’s chest, tearing through her iron breastplate. It reached her skin beneath, passing through effortlessly without leaving a mark on her flesh or bone. The blue light seemed to sheath itself into her chest, as though the blade was being returned to its scabbard.
And then, it collided head-on.
The moment was brief, but through the weapon, Luke felt it in an instant. The presence of a chain-like curse binding Cecily’s heart. The tip of the Infernal Katana struck it, sending a vivid image into his mind. It was a death spell, but layered on top was another language—the spell of the first Housman.
At the same time, Luke sensed the Infernal Katana beginning to crumble from the point of contact.
I knew it wouldn’t work.
He had known it wouldn’t. The Sacred Sword was still out of reach. The first Housman’s spellwork was too strong to break so easily.
But Luke smiled, the corner of his mouth curling in satisfaction at his own handiwork.
It wasn’t in vain. This attempt wasn’t pointless.
The katana forged through Infernal Bladecraft had managed to directly interact with the curse on Cecily’s heart.
He’d found a glimmer of hope. That, in itself, was an achievement.
As the Infernal Katana shattered completely, scattering into particles in the air, Luke couldn’t contain the surge of excitement swelling in his chest. He could fight. He wasn’t powerless. There were things he could do.
He could save her.
The joy made him forget the pain, the fatigue, the wasting of his soul. It blew it all away. The urge to laugh, like in the heat of the close combat, bubbled up.
“I believe in you, so I’ll be fine.”
Fine then. Keep believing in me, Cecily Campbell.
I will forge the Sacred Sword. I will slay Valbanill and break your curse.
I will save you.
Cecily covered her bare chest with her arms, her face flushed crimson, and punched Luke square in the face, knocking him unconscious.
“You went overboard again.”
“That brat was throwing a tantrum, so I taught him a lesson. Took some effort to deal with how stubborn he got afterward, but I sent him flying without breaking a sweat. Kid’s nowhere near trained enough.”
“Hah, you’re full of it,” Hugo chuckled. “You can’t fool me. Luke’s punch actually hurt, didn’t it? Stop pretending and go to the infirmary later.”
Hannibal grunted.
“So, the day has finally come,” Hugo said.
“Yeah. It’s all up to Luke now. There’s nothing we can do but leave it in his hands.”
“Isn’t that a bit too defeatist?”
“Maybe, but sometimes, that’s just how it is.”
Hannibal clenched his fist, fist as solid as stone.
Any martial artist, any army, any creature—human, Inhuman, or demon—would have been destroyed by that fist. But there was one thing it couldn’t do. It couldn’t save a girl.
“We have to leave it to that brat. As infuriating as it is.”
“You’re right,” Hugo sighed.
Powerless, they had placed everything in the hands of a young man not even twenty. It felt very wrong.
“But because of that, we can fight with everything we have.”
“Exactly. There’s no more giving in.” Hannibal turned on his heel. “I won’t yield another inch to anyone.”
Left alone in the room, Hugo closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
“But…” He opened his eyes. “They really made a mess.”
He groaned as he looked around the room—furnishings destroyed, holes in the walls, papers scattered everywhere.
“And that man slipped away without a word.”
“Ugh.”
“Ah, you’re awake!”
As soon as Luke’s eyes fluttered open, Cecily’s face appeared in his field of vision.
She looked relieved, tears welling up in her eyes, then remembered something and began scolding him.
“If you wanted to test the Infernal Katana, you should’ve said something first!”
Even in his half-conscious state, Luke couldn’t help but feel her protest was justified.
He glanced around, confirming his location. He was in the main house’s bedroom. Cecily, sitting in a chair nearby, was still yelling. Her breastplate had been destroyed earlier, so she had hastily wrapped some cloth around her chest, just like before.
“Where’s Lisa and Aria?”
Luke’s voice came out so weak, Cecily abruptly stopped her reproach. She furrowed her brows and leaned in, peering at his face with concern.
Stop. Don’t get so close. It’s making me feel weird. And that chest… fabric only accentuates it.
Of course, he kept these thoughts to himself. Saying even one of them would undoubtedly earn him a punch on par with Hannibal’s.
Cecily pulled back. “Lisa and Aria are preparing dinner.”
“Dinner? How long was I out?”
“You slept like a log. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re waking up now. You’ve made an Infernal Katana before, back in the Militant Nation, but is it really that exhausting? I’ve never seen you so exhausted.”
“Yeah, it’s draining. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine after some rest.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled and stared at the ceiling. It was almost too easy to deceive her, thank goodness.
A thought crossed his mind. How much longer do I have?
Every time he forged an Infernal Katana, his lifespan shortened. If this kept up, his time would run out sooner rather than later.
He needed to last until he faced Valbanill. At least until the Sacred Sword was finished.
Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his cheek. He turned his head.
Cecily’s hand was gently stroking his face, her fingers brushing his skin tenderly.
“What are you doing?”
“It must hurt, right? I hit you pretty hard.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t try to act tough. Sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“I told you, it’s fine. I was at fault too.”
“I’m hopeless.” Cecily smiled wryly. “I just don’t know how to act feminine. In moments like that, a normal reaction would be, I don’t know, screaming or curling up or something, right? Not throwing a punch like I did. I don’t usually think about it, but sometimes… sometimes I wish I could change that about myself. I am a woman, after all.”
The last sentence was quiet, almost a whisper, as if she was embarrassed by her own words.
Luke met her gaze and as casually as if it were obvious said, “Don’t worry.”
She looked at him, confused.
“You’re fine as you are.”
“Really?” she murmured, tilting her head. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.
Damn it, Luke cursed inwardly. That’s not fair.
“I guarantee,” he said.
“Thanks.” Cecily smiled gently. “Earlier, when you were testing your katana. You were trying to break the Sacred Sword’s Sheath, to undo the alteration on my death spell, weren’t you?”
“…”
“You always try to help. And I’m really grateful. I can keep fighting because of you.”
For a moment, Luke found himself frozen in place.
Cecily smiled softly, her eyes glistening slightly.
He couldn’t look away from her. He didn’t know how to break her gaze. A dull tingling sensation spread across the back of his head.
He just stared blankly at her. Without thinking, the words slipped out.
“I’ll save you.”
“Okay.”
I’ll die in the near future.
He’d meet his end young. So he wouldn’t speak the feelings stirring inside him.
Someone who knew their time was short couldn’t say such things. No matter how much Lisa would call him an idiot, that wouldn’t change.
But there was one thing he could promise. He would give the rest of his soul to this woman.
For that, he didn’t mind dying.
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