Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a spray of bright red blood. I tore my gaze away from the lord and looked over; the beastfolk girls had been impaled by his magic.
I gasped. It felt like I’d stopped breathing. I was still in the middle of battle, but I’d left myself completely exposed. The lord was frozen, just as stunned as I was, so we were lucky this time... Still, if the spell had hit differently, those girls would have been dead—that’s right, gone.
A chill ran down my spine, knocking me to my senses. The magic sword wavered in my trembling hand, and my chest tightened. I’d forgotten this feeling, the same feeling I’d gotten back when I was a newbie, when I’d encountered a superior magical beast and wet myself.
This was fear. When I saw those girls half dead, my fear had taken over. They looked nothing like my daughter, but the memories came back to me. I wasn’t there when she was killed, but I saw her mutilated body, which had been sent to me. The knight who had carried her had tried to clean her up, but the countless wounds couldn’t all be hidden. Those memories started to overlap with the girls before me.
Those girls are going to die too! Just like my daughter! I wasn’t able to be with her and protect her! But now—
The strength that had almost left my hand returned. I could hear a quiet rasp as I tightened my grip on the magic sword.
Right now, I can protect them! They’re not my daughter, sure, but do I need a reason to protect them? When children are being hunted down by a monster? I’m no hero—just a pathetic middle-aged man...but I was gonna die in some ditch someday anyway. I just didn’t have the courage or drive to even do that. After I lost my daughter, I’d thought my life was just wasted time, so risking my life to save those kids won’t be such a bad choice. I stooped low enough to be used by that scumbag lord, but I’m not gonna make the same mistake again. I swore to myself that I’d make my daughter proud.
“I’ll offer up everything I have.” I’ll use my life, soul, whatever to save those kids! And to do that—
“I’ll take him down.” My attacks don’t work? He regenerates even if I cut him with my magic sword? So what? I’m the former Sword Saint.
“Besides,” I muttered to my sword, “you’re not so flimsy, are you?”
“Huh?”
Is the magic sword glowing? It had lost its power ever since what happened. I figured it was because I was stripped of my title as the Sword Saint, but...
Has it regained its powers? No, it’s shining brighter than ever before.
My magic sword, known as “Brave,” supposedly unleashed the power to banish evil when wielded by the courageous. But I’ve never seen it shine so—
“I see. So that’s it.”
I understand now, thanks to the strong bond I’ve forged with the sword.
Being brave isn’t just about fearlessly charging into battle. It’s about facing your own weakness. It’s about not looking away from trying times and dealing with them. The courage to swear to my daughter that I’d never stray from the righteous path again, and to accept that she was gone and keep moving forward—those were the kinds of courage that mattered most now. It seemed that only those who had overcome the weakness in their heart and carried a vow more precious than their own life were worthy of being the true wielder of this sword.
“Yeah, I get it.”
The sword doesn’t have a will of its own, but I can feel it—the sword’s joy.
“Now for the lord—let’s get him!”