Raydor Holy Sword War Journal

"Your Highness! Why did you do that!

Raydor walks out of the palace between sights. It was Darren Garst, the thousand horseman of the Royal Army, who came after him.

Raydor glances sideways at Darren as he questions him as he progresses without stopping.

"Why didn't you just... push me not to break my contract?"

"That's why you curse the king, etc... you don't know what punishment it will take!?"

"Hey, I don't think I can do it while the curse is on."

Because of the curse of the affidavit, Granard cannot act to the detriment of Raydor. Until the curse is lifted, Raydor's safety is guaranteed.

"The court magician will soon break the curse of the contract and more! In that case, His Majesty's anger will turn relentlessly to His Highness. Please, please apologize to His Majesty..."

"Heh, will you mind? You're so sweet."

Raydor blinked her eyes unexpectedly.

Darren's father is Basel Garst, general of the Kingdom of Zayn. Bazel was near Granard's stomach and one of the central figures who endorsed Raydor's exile.

"... Indeed, my father is one of those who did not have less to do with His Highness's exile. But that was only to prevent a succession struggle from erupting with His Highness becoming Holy Sword Holder, and there was no resentment against His Highness"

"Right. That's not why I forgive General Garst."

"... my father also understands that. My father was very lamenting that His Highness had been driven to the border to fight for his convenience."

"... I see"

Raydor nodded convincingly.

The knights who were there attacked Raydor as he cursed Granard during the sight. But Darren, who should have been on the spot, stood up without moving.

Maybe Darren didn't act aggressively to the detriment of Raydor because there was a part of him that he thought would be.

(sympathy or... or another emotion? Either way, I wouldn't condone it if I were to end up on Granard's side)

"That's not the castle gate, is it? Where are you going?

…………

Darren sounded surprised at Raydor as he made him think he was leaving the castle in a different direction.

Raydor walked silently without looking back at Darren, eventually reaching in front of a certain room.

"This place..."

That was the room where the holy sword Darinslave, a national treasure, rested.

There are two knights in front of the room, and all of a sudden, I'm surprised to open my eyes to the King's brother and the Thousand Horsemen who showed up.

"His Royal Highness the King...! I'm sorry, but this one is without Your Majesty's permission..."

"Looks like it's locked. The key... there."

"Damn!"

He was a knight who tried to stop Raydor from putting his hand on the door of the room, but his fist pierces his face relentlessly. The battered knight spun a crunch to too much momentum and fell to the floor as it collapsed.

Raydor snatches away the key on the knight's hips.

"Become... what the hell...!

Another knight rushes to put his hand on the sword. Darren slapped the knight on the shoulder.

"... that's enough. Stop."

"Garst Thousand Horsemen! But this is obviously..."

"It's about now. I'll take responsibility for this, so you don't have to worry."

"... Really? We haven't seen anything. I'm bringing my sleeping colleagues to the infirmary."

Seeing Darren's face as if he had given up, the knight seemed to have somehow guessed the circumstances. Let go of your hand from the sword on your hips and drag the knight who passed out and disappears across the hallway.

Raydor used the key he took from the knight, and now it's time to open the door.

Between the holy swords since visiting once during the rite of adulthood. Behind it is unchanged from five years ago, with the Holy Sword piercing the pedestal.

What would be different from that time would be the black-powered runoff erupting from the sword body of the Holy Sword stabbed on the pedestal.

"This is...!

Darren groans stunned.

The black runoff rising from the Holy Sword becomes a vortex and scratches the air around the room, wild as if it were a small tornado.

Darren kneels as he is struck by a brisk black wind.

"Gu... the power..."

"Don't push it. This is a wind of curse that takes away power. If you try to force yourself to stand, you'll be debilitated to death."

"His Highness Raydor......!

Raydor walks without hesitation between the holy swords where the black storm blows. The wind of curse strikes its body, but the young king brother proceeds to walk without moving one eyebrow.

Eventually Raydor reaches the pedestal and squeezes the holy sword Darin Slave, which is scattering a black storm.

"It's been a long time. You wanted to see me so badly?

A strong wind scattered as the holy sword protested. A bladed whirlwind slashes and rips Raydor's cheek and splashes blood.

"Your Highness!"

"Welcome to my hands over five years. Darin Slave!"

Ignoring the blood flowing down his cheek, Raydor pulled the Holy Sword out of the pedestal.

A black holy sword that no one has been able to pull out since the first king once again fitted into Raydor's hands.

A storm that was raging wild through the room stopped. Instead, a pitch-black aura, like stiffening and solidifying the darkness at night, wrapped around Darinslave.

"Ooh..."

My voice leaks unexpectedly from Darren's mouth.

Is the emotion that dwelled in that voice fear or admiration?

(I... am I in the presence of a theory of Hero Tan? Is this the moment a new hero is born?

Shaking her shoulders, Darren lowered her head feeling like praying to God.

The opponent is a murderer who cursed the king he serves. While I knew that, I couldn't fail to show respect.

Soul as a knight, pride as a samurai sought with all his might the most salute to the hero born in front of him.

In the wake of such a thousand horseman's gaze, Raydor put a high Darinslave over his head.