Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 116

The scale of internal logistics within the Kingdom of Jugend was colossal. Ores mined from the mineral zones were transported to metalworks-concentrated Areas, where refined metals were then funneled to forges to be crafted into all manner of weapons and equipment.

Unless it was an area like Area 1, which was committed to artisanal, handmade production, the other divisions that adopted mass-production systems were now generating weapons at least ten times the previous output. Dwarven-made weapons—once considered legendary if even one appeared on the market three hundred years ago—were now being produced by the truckload.

Naturally, a vast distribution network had developed to handle this volume. With the development of the cargo trains and airships capable of traversing the kingdom, this system had reached its peak.

The sheer amount of goods transported in a single day rivaled several months’ worth in a mid-sized kingdom, and naturally, an institution solely responsible for recording and managing the movement of logistics had become essential.

Pedro sniffled as he swallowed the last bit of mucus and said, “Sob... This is it.”

They had arrived at the records archive, the place in charge of overseeing the movement of goods throughout the entire kingdom. Classified as a Tier-2 facility, without Pedro, they wouldn’t even be allowed to set foot inside. To uncover the source of the ore, their cooperation was indispensable.

Uncharacteristically for Jugend, the air was thick with the scent of paper rather than steel in this place where humans, not dwarves, were the primary workforce.

“No matter how necessary, what kind of dwarf would rather hold a stamp than a hammer?” Pedro said.

“Of course,” Garlond nodded, agreeing. “There’s nothing more miserable than a job that doesn’t suit you. That’s exactly why I chose the life of a mercenary.”

“Hmmm.” Karen turned to him with a skeptical look and asked, “No wonder your speech is so stiff for a mercenary. You were a noble, huh?”

Having been found out, Garlond scratched his head and said, “Things learned in youth are hard to unlearn. It’s been over twenty years, but still.”

Noble-born adventurers or mercenaries weren’t unheard of, but those who reached A-rank were rare. A-ranks were individuals with gold plaques—experts recognized and respected anywhere in the world.

They were born with talent so exceptional that their noble families would never let them go easily. Garlond gave a wry smile as he rubbed his mustache.

“Oh...”

He then realized his mustache had been reduced to stubble after taking Hamel’s explosive arrow to the face and looked a little embarrassed.

El-Cid snickered and commented, —Besides, dwarves’ fat fingers aren’t exactly suited for paperwork. Their grip strength is overkill, so they’ll just tear up the paper by accident. And outside the forge, their tempers are so bad they end up grabbing clients by the collar and brawling all the time.

Ah, so that’s why they started working with humans?

—Exactly. That’s the real reason Jugend became a diversity state. I don’t know what the history books say, though.

What El-Cid said was simply a limitation of the dwarves as a race. What could be done with only field workers was small in scope.

Running a kingdom-level operation required clerks and administrators. When it came to tasks beyond mining, refining, and forging, humans were far more adept.

The person now speaking with them was also human. The middle-aged woman seated behind the counter greeted them with a kind smile and a polite bow.

“Welcome, Meister Pedro. It’s been a while.”

Pedro stepped forward, sat down across from her, and returned the greeting.

“It has, Kate. You’ve been well?”

“Oh, I’ve been the same as always. But for you to visit the archive yourself—what might be the special occasion?”

“Ugh... Not a pleasant one, I’ll say that.”

Tugging at his braided beard, Pedro finally spat out the words lodged in his throat.

“The lad I summoned to my forge last week, Rombart—his workshop is in Area 13. I want to find out which mine the three ores he used came from.”

“Three ores?” Kate asked.

“Refined steel, mithril, and adamantium.”

“Please give me a moment.”

Kate rifled through a mountain of documents for several minutes. Eventually, she found something and examined the red envelope in her hand with a puzzled expression. Then she turned to the group with a conflicted look. It was clearly not good news.

“Meister Pedro, I’m very sorry,” she apologized.

“What? Don’t tell me I can’t see it?”

“I’m not sure why, but the designated mining zone is under Tier-1 access restriction.

Not only is mining forbidden, even viewing the mine’s information requires special review and approval.”

“Tier-1?!”

Pedro’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Even this archive was only Tier-2. The fact that this information was classified as a higher tier than that meant that not even its department head could access it.

There were only a select few who could classify something as Tier-1. The King, area administrators, and perhaps five or six meister blacksmiths in the entire kingdom.

“Who did it? Who the hell placed the restriction?” Pedro asked.

“Ah, let me check...”

As she looked toward the bottom of the red envelope to find the issuing authority, Kate’s eyes went wide. Her reaction alone spoke to the status of the individual. She was about to say the name aloud when a deep voice rang out behind the trio.

“I did, Uncle Pedro.”

All three had already turned with their hands on the hilts of their swords before the voice had finished speaking. To naturally approach three A-rankers from behind like that? If it had been an ambush, they would’ve been in serious danger.

He’s strong!

And when Leon turned to face him, he felt a chill of awe. Even without displaying any intent, the man’s sheer presence radiated strength.

His dark brown skin bulged with knotted muscles, and his frame looked to be just over two meters tall—massive and solid—but the truly terrifying part lay within. From that mountain-like body surged a whirlpool of life force—Aura—amplified by the power of the earth and the blessings of flame.

On top of that, a soft divine glow shimmered over his clothing, too. This man was a monster blessed with no fewer than three different powers.

—He’s strong. I’d say this guy’s probably Jugend’s strongest right now.

Leon silently agreed with El-Cid’s remark. It wasn’t just the size of his strength. His martial foundations were unbelievably deep. There wasn’t a single opening to exploit. Even if all three of them attacked at once, they’d be overwhelmed.

This man was a Master, but not one who hadn’t reached full mastery yet, like Karen. He had fully reached the limit of his ability.

Their surprise didn’t stop there. Pedro’s cry only deepened it.

“G-Grand Meister...?!”

It was a title given to Jugend’s greatest blacksmith, and it belonged to this man who didn’t even look like a dwarf? Noticing their astonishment, the man turned to them and offered a polite bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I am Irexana—Jugend’s Grand Meister and a Cardinal of the Holy Church.”

“A Grand Meister and...!”

“A Cardinal?!”

Garlond and Karen both dropped their guard in shock, and even Leon forgot to breathe when he heard the name. Cardinal Irexana was the very name listed as the overseer of the Vein Invader quest.

Caught off guard by the unexpected encounter, the trio stiffened, but Irexana, having heard the full story from Pedro, said, “So that sword broke the weapons Uncle Pedro made? Impressive.”

Judging by the way his eyes went to Leon’s hip, he already knew why Pedro had brought them here. And Leon could tell that Irexana didn’t yet know his true identity. If he wanted to reveal it discreetly, this moment of interest was his best chance.

“Would you like to hold it?” Leon offered.

“Pardon...?”

Irexana was taken aback. It was rare for a warrior to so casually offer their weapon. After all, a sword was equivalent to a warrior’s life.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. Please.”

Unable to resist a weapon that had defeated the works of a dwarf meister, Irexana slowly extended his hand. The moment his thick, calloused fingers wrapped around the hilt—

“Gasp...!”

His eyes widened in reverence.

This was the Holy Sword El-Cid. Even though an ordinary person wouldn’t recognize it, he could feel it—the divine essence slumbering within. As both a blacksmith and a cardinal who serves the goddess, he understood.

And he knew there was only one person in the world who could possess such a sword.

“Please come with me, all four of you.”

If the Hero had appeared before him, it would not be for something trivial. Guessing Leon’s purpose, Irexana said no more and began walking.

Everyone followed, leaving the archive behind. Only Kate remained, watching them go with a blinking stare. The room returned to its usual quiet atmosphere, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something enormous had just begun.

***

“So, you're here as investigators of the Guild.”

Having sent Pedro back to the forge, Irexana now faced the three visitors and spoke. With his authority, there were plenty of rooms he could borrow for privacy.

There was much to discuss. How Leon had stopped Garlond, who had been bewitched by a cursed sword, how they had traced its source from Area 13 to Area 1, and how they invoked Rodrick’s Legacy to earn the right to visit the archive with Pedro.

At that point, Leon brought up something that had been bothering him.

“Oh, that reminds me. Your Eminence, why did you place a restriction on the area we were trying to investigate?”

The other two also turned to him with questioning looks. After sipping from his teacup, Irexana answered.

“I sensed an ominous presence.”

“An ominous presence...?”

“Yes.”

With a firm nod, Irexana rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing a sigil etched deep into his muscular forearm. It was a Stigma, a gift and a blessing that allowed one to partially manifest the Goddess’s authority.

“The one I was granted as a cardinal is the Stigma of the Guide. Whenever it detects something wicked or impure, it glows. Each day, I survey the kingdom with this Stigma, and one day, it reacted to that mining site.”

“So, something really was there,” Leon muttered.

“Yes. So, I immediately imposed an access restriction, but...” Irexana paused, glanced toward Garlond, and let out a deep sigh. “It seems I was too late. If the materials reached as far as Area 13, enough has likely leaked out to produce hundreds of weapons across the kingdom.”

“Is there no way to retrieve them all?” Leon asked.

“If only we had a method to identify the cursed swords...”

At that moment, Karen, who had been listening quietly, said, “Blood.”

Everyone’s gaze turned to her. She drew a dagger from her thigh and explained.

“Garlond said it, remember? The cursed sword only revealed its true nature after it had tasted blood.”

“Ah, right.”

“If a sword that's touched blood brings the wielder some strange sense of satisfaction, we could test them all. Just let them taste blood and see which ones react.”

As she finished speaking, she pricked her fingertip on the dagger’s edge. A single drop of blood trickled down and stained the blackened blade.

The others watched in silence. It wasn’t a bad idea. Actually, if everyone cooperated, it was likely the most efficient method possible. And fortunately, they had someone here who could issue commands to the notoriously stubborn dwarves.

“That’s a good suggestion,” Irexana said with a faint smile. “I’ll have it relayed to every forge in the kingdom. They’re to test all recently crafted weapons with a few drops of blood. If we cite ‘contaminated minerals’ as the reason, they’ll comply. Until the root of the issue is resolved, this must be strictly followed.”

“And that root is...”

“Yes,” Irexana nodded to confirm Leon’s guess. “We must eliminate the unknown entity lurking deep within the Great Vein as soon as possible. But I don’t think I can properly inspect that entire region alone.”

The Great Vein was the largest mine in the world. Even the currently active sections spanned more than a typical domain, and unlike flat land, it was tunneled in all directions, meaning it had to be measured in three dimensions. To make matters worse, over half the area was a monster habitat.

“A large elite force will be necessary,” Irexana said.

A small elite team wouldn’t be enough. They needed the strength to sweep the area clean of monsters while simultaneously conducting a large-scale investigation. What they needed were fighters of at least A-rank, which were assets that most domains were lucky to have one or two.

“Mr. Garlond,” Irexana called.

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

“I’ll submit a formal request to the Guild under my name. Call for all adventurers A-rank and above, or those of exceptional skill, regardless of rank. Every branch within Jugend will be considered a target for recruitment.”

“Understood! I shall carry out the Grand Meister’s will.”

It was effectively a full mobilization order. Even if the Guild prided itself on being neutral and unaffiliated with any nation, refusing to act in a crisis of this scale would turn Jugend against them. Flexibility, even at the cost of profit, was sometimes essential in emergencies.

“And Mr. Leon.”

Taking his gaze off Garlond, Irexana turned toward Leon, meeting the golden glow in his eyes. There was no mistaking what that look meant.

“I’d like to request a private conversation, if I may.”

That, more than anything, was what Leon had also been hoping for.