Lord of Caldera - Chapter 67

Chapter 67: Chapter 67
“Allow me to demonstrate.” Oscar raised the sword awkwardly and swung it at a nearby table. With a dull thud, a few wood chips flew off.

“Does this look like a legendary sword to you?”

“…No, it’s not. The blade is dull,” remarked the Count. Even though Oscar wasn’t skilled in swordsmanship, a fine blade should have been able to cut through ordinary wood as easily as slicing paper. Yet, this sword seemed no different from any other ordinary sword.

“That’s correct. Based on the inscriptions we found in the dungeon, the sword does not unleash its power unless it has chosen its rightful owner,” Oscar explained.

“Hmph, I’ve heard of swords like that,” the Count said.

“However, the blade itself is exceptionally durable. Additionally, if a monster or a wicked person tries to wield it, the sword burns their hands.”

“Oh!” Those who had initially been disappointed at the sword’s apparent lack of power now gasped in awe. A sword that could distinguish between monsters and evil individuals, and even burn them? It was truly remarkable.

“Ulrich, are you really planning to give this sword to Sylas?” the Count asked, astonished.

“Yes, I intend to gift it to my brother for his coming-of-age ceremony. After all, the sword didn’t choose me as its owner,” Ulrich replied calmly.

“Are you serious? Even if you’re not its owner, this sword could be sold for a fortune,” the Count pointed out.

Despite his father’s remark, Ulrich smiled and shook his head. “Every item has its rightful owner. I have no desire to hoard a treasure I cannot use, letting it wander aimlessly through the world.”

“Ulrich, I am truly proud of you,” the Count said, his eyes welling up with tears. Such selflessness! He had truly raised a fine heir.

“Now, Sylas, take the sword,” the Count said, handing the blade over.

“I can’t believe you’re giving me such an incredible weapon… Thank you, brother!” Sylas exclaimed, pretending to be overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Think nothing of it. We are brothers, after all,” Ulrich responded. He and Oscar stifled their laughter as they watched Sylas, who was completely unaware that the sword would soon burn him.

This sword burns only those with evil in their hearts, Ulrich had said earlier, setting the stage for what they expected would happen next. The moment Sylas dropped the sword in agony, they anticipated the onlookers would be quick to judge him, rumors spreading across the entire estate about his supposedly “dark nature.”

“Go ahead, Sylas. It’s your sword now,” Ulrich urged.

“With pleasure!” Sylas replied, eagerly taking the sword in both hands. As soon as he grasped the hilt, a voice echoed in his ears, one that only he could hear.

—You… dragon’s blood… you’re the brother of that wretch…

The sword trembled in rage, appalled at the idea that this boy would be its next master.

—Let’s see if you can withstand this…

A low hum filled the air.

“Th-The sword is shaking the moment Lord Sylas grabbed it!” one of the knights exclaimed, horrified. The blade trembled and emitted a soft, unsettling sound. Ulrich watched the scene with satisfaction, smiling to himself.

Heh, it must really be annoyed. I didn’t expect it to shake this much, Ulrich thought. The trembling was a sign that the sword was heating up, just as it had when Ulrich first tried to wield it and ended up burning his hand.

He remembered the surprise he’d felt when the sword had grown scorching hot in his hand, catching him completely off guard.

Burns always hurt more than other wounds. I just hope he doesn’t throw the sword in panic and embarrass himself too much…

As Ulrich continued to watch, his eyes slowly widened in disbelief. Sylas, who should have been suffering from burns by now, was holding the sword without any apparent discomfort. In fact, he seemed completely unfazed, as though he hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

“What… How is this possible?” Ulrich muttered in shock, though no one else noticed as all eyes were on Sylas.

Ulrich and Oscar weren’t the only ones surprised.

—You wretch! Why aren’t you letting go? the cursed sword snarled in frustration, intensifying the heat to the point where it should have been burning Sylas’s flesh. Yet Sylas remained perfectly fine, unaffected by the scorching temperature.

Sylas suppressed a smirk, chuckling inwardly. Why? Because I’m wearing a flame-resistant item, obviously.

The magic hidden in the crimson wrist guards—Leonic’s old bandages—was simple yet powerful: they made the wearer immune to fire and heat, as well as anything they carried. This was why Leonic, the family’s founder, had been able to fight dragons without worrying about their fiery breath.

The only way to discover this function is to be thrown into a fire while wearing the bandages, Sylas thought. No wonder the previous heads of the family hadn’t figured it out. Who in their right mind would jump into a fire just to test it? Sylas himself had only learned about the wrist guards’ magic by accident.

I found out the hard way when I got captured and thrown into a fire by a group of bandits.

Years ago, while on a mission to eradicate a notorious gang of bandits, Sylas had been captured after they retaliated. Seeking revenge for their fallen comrades, the bandits had bound him and tossed him into a fire, expecting to see him burn.

—Well, well, look at the mighty knight! Got any last words before we roast you alive?

—Hey, come on! Just kill him with a sword!

—No way! This guy killed all our men. He deserves to die slowly, in pain!

The bandits, eager to see him suffer, had poured oil over Sylas and thrown him into the flames. But instead of burning, the only thing that had caught fire was the rope binding him. Sylas emerged unscathed, leaving the bandits in shock.

—Wh-What the hell? How is he still alive?

—You’re all dead now.

In the end, Sylas had slain the remaining bandits and discovered the secret of the wrist guards.

Good thing I kept wearing them after all this time. A real stroke of luck.

Sylas laughed inwardly, thinking back to his regret in his previous life.

If only I’d worn these during my coming-of-age ceremony back then. I’d have avoided all the trouble I faced.