Take the divine sword Eckesachs, for example. Sansui had used it himself, but it had never struck him as an especially powerful weapon. In the hands of Saiga or Suiboku, of course, it became formidable—but that was only because they were formidable. If an Immortal or someone taught by one used it, perhaps it would shine, but an ordinary genius wouldn’t reach such heights just by wielding it.
If that level of weaponry could truly defeat a dragon, then perhaps dragons weren’t such a threat to begin with.
“Huh? That’s because you were using it against people of this world. The Eight Sacred Treasures were forged to fight monsters. They have shackles—constraints—that prevent them from exerting their full power against the humans of this world.”
Again, the Great Tengu had an answer that made sense. For legendary weapons, the Eight Sacred Treasures had seemed underwhelming. Apparently, they had simply never had the chance to display their true worth.
“Back to the story. The god chose eight humans and granted them the Eight Sacred Treasures: The Ultimate Legendary Sword, Eckesachs, to Roland. The Demon Blade of Vengeance, Dainsleif, to Lonely. The Armor of Entropy and Disaster, Pandora, to Shark. The Mirror of Consumption’s Truth, Ungaikyo, to Baikur. The Bountiful Silo of Compassion, Danua, to Sativa. The Divine Spear of Rebellion, Vajra, to Roller. The Ark of Survival, Noah, to Bifu.”
Counting them off with nostalgic fondness, the Great Tengu raised his thumb and pointed at himself.
“And the Sacred Chalice of Will, Elixir—that one was entrusted to me.”
“Then, Great Tengu, you were the first to use the Elixir?”
“Damn right. Elixir was created for me, the man with the strongest will to live among humanity at the time.”
With a strangely self-deprecating gesture, the Great Tengu hunched his shoulders.
“But the god never gave the Eight Sacred Treasures enough power to actually exterminate monsters. No matter how hard the eight of us fought, we could only retreat before the dragons’ vast numbers.”
According to Shouzo, if the god had wished it, the divine weapons could have been made far stronger. But the god had never intended to favor humans to that extent.
“In the end, humans lost and fled their world. The few survivors piled aboard Noah and escaped into the void. After many twists and turns, they eventually arrived in this world.”
From those words, the implication was clear. The god had never intended humanity to win—only to save a remnant and help them escape, and the Eight Sacred Treasures had been crafted for that purpose.
“The people living in this world now are the descendants of those survivors.”
It was, in every sense, a creation myth. Something so obvious to the people of this world that no one bothered to talk about it. Sansui himself had never explained Japan’s founding myths to a foreigner; unless one actively sought them out, they were nothing one paid attention to. Even though he had met the Eight Sacred Treasures in person, he had never questioned why they had been created.
His own ignorance was shameful.
Master... You could have told me...
He knew, of course, that one must take initiative in learning—but still, he couldn’t help harboring a tiny bit of resentment toward his master. The man never told him anything.
“Man, that time was such a pain. Only about a thousand people survived, so I basically had to maintain culture and civilization all by myself. Honestly, if I hadn’t been there, humanity might’ve died out even after reaching the new world.”
So that’s how it is. Sure enough, during Ukiyo’s time too, being a leader who couldn’t be killed was a huge advantage...
Listening to the Great Tengu, Sansui finally understood. Elixir—the artifact that drastically reduced its wielder’s chance of dying—was incredible, but in terms of national utility, there was only so much it could do. At best, it could protect the supreme ruler. Compared to the other seven treasures, it seemed the least valuable. But if it had been created specifically to keep this man alive, it made perfect sense.
The greatest treasure-maker in existence, an Immortal sage. No matter how far civilization collapsed, no matter how catastrophically the population dwindled, as long as this man lived, humanity could recover. Elixir had been created so that he would survive.
“Well, that was all about ten thousand years ago. At this point it’s just me, the god, and the Eight Sacred Treasures left—hardly matters anymore.”
The Great Tengu glanced at what Suiboku and Sansui wore at their waists. Both carried nothing more than simple wooden swords.
“That’s enough about me. I’d like to hear your story now.”
With a youthful smile that betrayed no sign of age, the Great Tengu spoke.
“Yes... Then, if I may begin with what happened after I arrived here...”
And so, Suiboku began his tale.
How he fought side by side with Eckesachs, destroyed countless nations, struggled in the village of Tempera, agonized over his own way of life, and finally parted with Eckesachs. How he secluded himself in the forest to resume his training, devised the Four Ultimate Techniques only to abandon them, and ultimately reached the state known as the State of No Doubt. At that time, he had been given a disciple by the god—trained him, passed down the Ultimate Techniques, and sent him back into the mortal world.
And then he had fought Fukei...and laid him to rest.
“I’d believed...that aside from you and the Sacred Treasures, there was no one left who remembered me. But Fukei survived—and he bore hatred toward me. Most likely, also...”
“Ah, you are thinking of Kacho, yes? He’s still waiting for you, even now.”
The Great Tengu plainly stated what Suiboku had already suspected.
“I see.”
With a voice tinged with remorse, Suiboku lowered his gaze.
“You’ve become...remarkably normal.”
Seeing that expression, the Great Tengu looked a little surprised. The other Tengu were the same—astonished at how much the man once called a raging god had changed. They had met Fukei. They knew just how deep Fukei’s hatred for Suiboku ran. And Suiboku himself had just finished recounting his own brutal deeds. For such a monstrous being to now feel something so ordinary—guilt toward his master—was shocking.
“You gained a disciple worthy of inheriting your Ultimate Techniques, and now you’ve grown sentimental, huh?”
“If I may be so bold.”
“Well, that’s not a bad thing.”
The Great Tengu turned his gaze to Sansui once more.
“Sansui Shirokuro, was it? Hard to believe someone like you was trained by Suiboku—you look like the picture of a proper Immortal. But you’re also the ‘strongest swordsman’ acknowledged by him. So? Got any heroic tales to share?”
“Well...”
Compared to his master, the scale was smaller, of course—but Sansui, too, had accumulated his share of violent exploits. And unlike Suiboku, he was nowhere near the mental state required to casually recount them to an ancient legend.
“Sounds like you’ve got plenty. I don’t mind hearing them, but more than that, I’d rather see for myself.”
The world’s greatest treasure craftsman smiled mischievously, then proposed something outrageous.
“How about fighting one of the descendants of the man who once cornered Suiboku—the wielder of the Rapid Iron Path?”
Back then, Suiboku—wielding Eckesachs and already a fifteen-hundred-year-old monster—had been pushed to the brink.
And the Great Tengu had just suggested that Sansui face the bloodline of that very opponent.