Sword Pilgrim

“Three years.”

Under the heavy rain pouring down like the tears of a god, he pressed his hood down and walked in a hurry.

Three years.

It has been that way since I started living here.

If you say it’s short, it’s short; if you say it’s long, it’s long.

But I can assure you.

These three years have never left me any happy memories.

“For Valtherus!!”

“For our God Lactus!”

A sharp sword creates death, and death piles up the corpses like a mountain.

And then those corpses, again –

Are refined into swords.

Three years ago.

I became a Pilgrim in such a cruel world.

Caw! Caw!

Shoo!

Feeling a presence, the crow that was feeding on the flesh of the corpses stirred its wings and flew away.

The green meadows were stained with blood and devastated by the aftermath of the war.

A scenery that was unforgivingly bleak.

The corpses stretched over it had become mountains; and the hungry beasts as well as the humans who were not any better stared at each other and took advantage of it.

“Uh, hey.
Hey.
Look over there.
A Pilgrim.”

“It’s true.
The rosary of the sword hanging from his neck and the stigma on the back of his hand….
He’s a real Pilgrim.”

Unlike the wild beasts that dig up corpses only to fill their stomachs, the figures of the children who came to collect money were being reflected in the gray pupils.

“… a Pilgrim of the Sword.”

He wore a pure white hood, but the shock of jet-black hair glimpsed under it was impressive.
The sharp gray eyes that could be seen through them looked like something not of an ordinary human being.

The necklace hanging from his neck was a rosary.

The stigma of a god in the shape of a sword was on the back of his hand.

These people were often seen on the battlefields.

Followers of Valtherus.

Pilgrims who wander around in search of a sword at the call of the Gods.

Or –

“Sword madmen.”

A child who had been rummaging through the bodies quickly threw a stone.

It flew in a long parabolic arc, but the stone thrown with the power of a child fell helplessly at the feet of the Pilgrim.

“Get out of here, you swordsman!”

Famine and poverty caused by war inherit its violence.
The resentful gazes that had no choice but to blame someone in order to survive turned to the Pilgrim.

The children’s faces were furious with hateful frowns, but their faltering legs were mired in fear.

The children flinched as the indifferent gray eyes stared at them.

“This war happened because of you crazy people, who turned the princess into a sword!!”

“Yeah, that’s right! Get out of here!”

“It’s all because of you!”

A devotee of swords who worshiped only swords and the God Valtherus.

Only one thing mattered to them.

The divine power that grants miracles.

“We don’t have a body to offer someone like you!!”

“Fuck off right now!!”

To draw the soul out of a body that has lost its warmth and turn it into a sword.

That is the power of God.

The only power that Valtherus gave them.

Carcass Sword (주검) – Resident Sword (駐劍).[1] It’s also called a miracle.

Sword Pilgrims.

Priests who perform miracles by turning the corpses of the dead into swords.

That is what it means to be a Pilgrim of the Sword.

“You guys turned people into swords and this is what happened!”

God’s miracle is exceptionally discriminatory, so the power of the sword differed depending on who was the origin of the sword.

There were many Pilgrims who secretly killed people with great potential and turned them into swords.
Whenever there were any neighbors who disappeared without a sound, it was not a few people who suspected it to be the work of a Pilgrim…

Those who had heard of the notoriety of the Pilgrims or whose family had been taken away naturally did not like the people who performed these divine miracles.

Rather, they –

“Devil!!”

They called them devils and despised them.

A follower of God being called a devil, what could be more contemptuous than this?

However, this Pilgrim went on his way without answering, as if he was long used to these insults.

The children, who had been staring at him as if he was not even human, returned to searching the mountain of corpses.

It was then.

Hiiiing!

The harsh sound of horseshoes rumbled across the ground.

“Pilgrim of the Gods who serves the great Valtherus! Stop for a moment!”

The Knight in the vanguard stopped at the Pilgrim’s feet and said with a loud voice.

The Knight, who came all the way to the front of the Pilgrim, did not even get off his horse and spoke with a dignified posture.

“O’ Son of the great Valtherus, you who have entered the territory of Lutens.
In the name of the Lord of the Western Provinces, Quardal de Lutens, you are invited to the Lord’s castle.”

The Pilgrim’s eyes gazed upon the Knights.

The level of the Knights was high, and their spirit high enough to pierce the skies.
Perhaps they had just won the war.

They behaved like you had no choice but to follow their order.

The Pilgrim’s eyes narrowed coldly.
Dry lips parted.

“Only the God Valtherus can block a Pilgrim’s way.
Move aside.”

An obvious refusal.

The Knights immediately drew their swords as if