Walking down the street of the ruined town, I did not lose vigilance despite being in the bright midday light and knowing the reason for the shadows' unrest in Belgran. Perhaps because my attention was no longer focused on searching for threats, I perceived the ancient ruins from a new perspective.
This town was definitely beautiful once. Yes, there wasn't much left, not even a single wall intact. But the layout itself, surprisingly precise and geometrically correct, suggested that the people who built Belgran were versed in architecture. In some ways, the regularity of its streets reminded me of Tries. It's somewhat sad that all that remains of its former beauty are only columns adorned with patterned bas-reliefs made of beige marble. And I must say, they looked really beautiful. You can't help but imagine them adorning the streets and squares of the ancient town during its prime.
How did they, with all their filigree, survive the catastrophe that destroyed the rest of the town? Approaching one of the columns, I took a closer look. Then, noticing a column broken in the lower third a couple of dozen steps away from me, I carefully examined that one as well. Picking up a piece of marble, which lay in abundance at my feet, and using Bull's Strength, I crushed the stone. Once on Earth, I was fooled by the beauty of a kitchen cutting board made of marble, and when I carelessly pressed down with a heavy and bulky chef's knife, it cracked all the way through[1]. Marble, of course, is a beautiful stone, but it is far from granite in terms of resilience. The fragment in my hand from the sharp compression in my magic-enhanced palm cracked into three pieces. It's simply amazing that columns made of such material survived the rest of the town. Approaching the half-destroyed column, I put my palm on one of the protrusions and, again using Bull's Strength, tried to chip off a piece. And... nothing happened; my fingers just helplessly slipped off the stone, slightly grazing the skin on a sharp protrusion. Quickly healing the scratches with Lesser Healing, I looked at the columns in surprise. How could this be? I checked, there is no magic in them, there is even no increase in the magical background around them. Strange.
And I only know one way to provide such abnormal firmness to marble. Taking off my bags, I sat down right in front of the destroyed column in the lotus position so that my shadow fell on the stone, and, calming my mind, prepared and activated Shadow Player. Whether the shadows were calmer now, or Seguna blessed me, or my mind was just getting used to this spell, I managed to hold it for longer than ten seconds. That was quite enough to confirm my guess.
Having cleared the space around the remains of the column, I set to remove stones from the pavement. And having cleared it down to a layer of dense sand, which most likely served as a "drainage cushion," I began to dig deeper. In an hour, I had dug a real trench around the remains of the column, one and a half meters deep. Breaking the hard rock with the Des rune and crushing the compressed sand with Discharge. Having finished with the trench, I began to dig around the foundation of the column itself.
Another hour, and I found what I was looking for. The Living Rune Ors. The Rune of Strengthening! The very one for which I almost killed a stone master in Unudo because I desired to learn it. Ten minutes of deep meditation – and I Understood the Rune, adding a very useful piece of knowledge to my arsenal. This Rune, applied to armor and reinforced with the Aura of Strengthening, can significantly increase the armor's durability. Though using the Ors rune on chainmail wouldn't work, or rather, it's possible, but since it is made of rings, the rune is not as effective as with breastplates or large composite plate armors. However, it was precisely plate armor I intended to acquire in the region of Rur, famous for its blacksmiths. So, the discovery was, to put it mildly, very timely!
Climbing out of the trench, I looked around and decided to spend time covering it up. It took no more than half an hour, and it was still visible that someone had dug there, but at least it wasn't as glaringly obvious from any end of the street. In principle, I could have left everything as is, but at that moment, what I did seemed sensible.
My mood was as sunny as today's day. Heading to these ruins instead of bypassing them, as the owner of the inn at the trade route had advised, I certainly hoped to find something useful, but the result exceeded all my expectations. The Ors rune is one of the most important for a warrior. And finding the hidden altar of Seguna advances me in completing one of the tasks significantly.
In the Last Cycle, I could not decide on a direction for development for a long time. Initially, I took the path of the warrior, then, studying the Shadow spells, I retrained as a scout. Later, I delved into the study of elemental magic. And only after the invasion began did I fully immerse myself in martial affairs. This time, thanks to the "memory of the future," I am insured against such a mistake of grabbing and trying everything available. Which, however, does not guarantee that I won't make new mistakes. But I didn't want to think about that now.
Packing up my things, I adjusted my gear, and, looking over the results of my labors, I headed to the river.
According to local legends, the monster attack on Belgran was unexpected. The residents of the town, renowned throughout the vicinity for their pacifism, did not have the chance to fight on the approaches to the settlement. Therefore, they hastily left Belgran, crossing the then much fuller river, hoping that the water would hold back the creatures. Alas, it did not, although it did give the residents some temporary lead while the monsters were busy leveling the town to the ground. Nevertheless, the townspeople did not manage to get far before the beasts caught up with them. Then, everyone who could bear arms or was versed in magic stood as a barrier in the way of the monsters, buying time for the elderly and children to escape. Everyone fought: those on Iron and those who had reached Legendary ranks, men and women. They engaged in battle and lost, perishing to the last, thus atoning for the sin of their "pacifism." If not for the reinforcements that came from all around, which eventually finished off the already severely wounded monsters, even the elderly and children would not have been able to escape. Since then, Belgran has stood abandoned for many centuries, turned into piles of rubble by the monsters.
Now, the once full-bodied river, on the left bank of which the town stood, has significantly shallowed. Finding the remains of an ancient bridge, I first leaped to the ruins of one of the massive columns, which apparently once served as a support. Then, from there, I jumped to the other bank, leaving the town ruins behind. Ten minutes of a leisurely run up steep slopes, and as I climbed to the top of another hill, the Ridge of Stone Monsters lay before my eyes.
In the valley, where several streams flowed into a small lake, like surreal statues, stood five stone figures. They varied in size, but even the smallest of them was about one and a half times the size of a BelAZ mining dump truck[2]. And the largest was as tall as a five-story building. According to myths, these rocks were what remained of the monsters that attacked Belgran. As if after their death, they turned to stone. And when you look at this ridge, you involuntarily believe that these are not myths, not tall tales, not fairy tales, but that it all really happened. All the monsters belonged to the same species. Eight massive legs, a huge body with a shell, and flat, broad muzzles. On one rock, where this muzzle was open as if in a death cry, you could discern the remnants of teeth stretching in five rows, which now looked as if made of quartz. The bodies of the monsters themselves seemed to be carved out of granite. Externally, they resembled oversized turtles with two extra pairs of legs and heads changed to something resembling crocodiles. Now, looking at this panorama from above, from the top of the hill, I understand the locals who called this valley the Ridge of Stone Monsters. The name precisely reflected its essence.
Descending into the valley, I began to approach the petrified remains of monsters at a leisurely pace. The closer I got, the more details caught my eye. Natural mountains do not look like this. These were indeed petrified monsters. Even after centuries, you could still make out protrusions, growths, and armored plates on their bodies.
Approaching closer, I noticed what once, in the Last Lycle, caught the attention of earthlings. All the "rocks" were like hedgehogs, bristling with oddly shaped growths that were unnatural for any living creature. And only from twenty steps away did it become clear that these growths were nothing other than stone swords, axes, and spears, which remained in the bodies of the monsters and petrified along with them. Local legends say you mustn't touch this stone weaponry, for such contact brings an incurable curse. And that is also true. A couple of overly curious earthlings died trying to obtain and examine the petrified ancient weapons.
Nevertheless, in this ancient curse, there is one exception - a blade that can be removed from one of the stone bodies. The only sword which, as I remembered from the campfire stories during another rest, pierced the armor of the largest monster and entered its body up to the hilt. And since the "past me" had seen the sought-after sword, Boundless Pride, which was indeed enormous, I figured it wouldn't be hard to find. I was slightly mistaken in that. Despite knowing what and where to look for, the search took over an hour. The reason was an initial error in judgment. Knowing that it was with Boundless Pride that the largest creature was killed, I looked for the sword near the monster's head and neck. Not finding it there, I began to crawl, like a seasoned alpinist, over the chest of the beast studded with petrified weapons. And in the end, I found the sword not there at all. The strike that finished the creature was delivered right under its tail. Yes, right there, where living beings expel the by-products of their life processes.
Boundless Pride has no hilt in the way we usually understand the term. This sword is externally a solid two-meter double-edged blade, only two folded fingers wide, without a guard, without a hilt. Only by making a pact with this blade can you take it in your hands and not lose your fingers in the process. So I passed by some petrified stick protruding from the monster's rear a few times, mistaking it for a fragment of a thick spear. And only on the third inspection of the petrified beast did I notice that sticks do not have sharp edges. This sword was not affected by the petrification curse, but because of the dirt that had settled over the centuries and hardened on it, it looked as if it were made of stone, which made my search even more difficult. Nevertheless, I finally found it!
Wrapping my palm in several layers of rags, I touched the sword.
"Ha-ha-ha!!" A bell-like laugh resounded in my head, and the Clasp of Pure Mind rang out long and clear. "At last, the hero arrives!" Boundless Pride had a pleasant, rich voice, an inherently appealing baritone. "Pull me out, and I will make you the greatest warrior in Ain!" I could feel the sword's impatience, its anticipatory vibration.
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"Pull you out?"
I smirked and said it aloud, although I could have just thought it emphatically, addressing Pride. As long as my palm was touching the sword, it would hear me.
"I think your place is exactly here. In the ass!"
"I will destroy you! I will cut you into pieces!!!" An angry roar immediately filled my head. "Pull me out immediately!"
"Another threat towards me, Tantalus Zeus, and you will stay in this place for a couple of millennia more." My voice was calm and measured, but inside, I was laughing.
To the misfortune of Boundless Pride, I am not a treasure seeker, nor a hero, but someone who knows the history of this sword and its True Name.
"Ha-ha-ha!" The sword's laugh was thunderous, rolling, and full of superiority in response. "You've finally mustered the courage, vengeful cowardly bastard!"
"What?" My surprise was genuine.
"The coward who once rejected me, you have returned to me! I hope now you're ready?"
"Do you know me?" My throat was dry.
"I remember everyone whose hand has ever touched me! I remember your black, vengeful soul. Cowardly, like a rabbit's! Raven!"
My hands indeed touched this sword. But that was in the Last Cycle! And it cannot possibly remember that. But... it does. Back then, I had only begun to pursue the path of vengeance against the questers. And I took Boundless Pride into my hands. This sword promised "me" help in killing one of those strange creatures, and I quite admit, it might have been capable of it. Only I would have perished. And not just perished, but my soul would have dissolved in this sword forever. At that moment, at the beginning of the path of vengeance, "I" was not yet willing to pay such a price and refused Pride, not taking up the Mastership over the sword. And later, when I reached the brink and was ready to pay any Price, it was already too late; by that time, the sword had already found its Master.
Boundless Pride is a blade forged from the soul of one of the greatest warriors of Ain. More precisely, the word "forged" is not quite appropriate for it. It is nothing less than a soul turned into steel. Long ago, centuries before the Fall, just a hundred years after the Ascension of Evelan, an invincible fighter appeared in Ain. His name was Tantalus Zeus. He won all battles. He was victorious in all the arenas of Pentapolis. And he challenged Eyrat the Invincible himself. He was heard by the residents of Divino Mountain, and Jegur came out to fight Tantalus. But in his immeasurable pride, Tantalus Zeus refused the demigod, insisting that he was worthy of dueling Eyrat himself. Having refused to cross swords with Jegur, Tantalus provoked the genuine wrath of Eyrat and was turned into a sword. A cursed sword. Because the wrath of the Creator of Ain was indeed a curse.
He who wields Boundless Pride can transcend human limitations and achieve Six Stars of Talent, that is, to become one with his weapon. But, as they say, there's a nuance. If the one who takes it into his hands and claims Mastership over the sword has even half a Star more talent in any weapon skill than one - which is the minimum - then the sword's master will perish. And this will be the final death of the soul.
Thirty earthlings tried to take it into their hands. Twenty agreed to the terms of Boundless Pride. And all of them perished in agony. Only one survived. We called him Mad Max. Completely nuts. A brilliant mage who had, like Miranda, four Stars in three Elements. But for some reason, Max didn't like magic, though he had a predisposition for it. What this guy sincerely adored was fighting. He was hopelessly in love with it, though he never won a single fight in his life. His face was constantly getting beaten, but he would get up and keep on fighting. Astonishing perseverance, especially considering that he only had a single Star of Talent in fistfighting, as in any other weapon or martial skill. When Max took Pride in his hands, they, so to speak, found each other. It was thanks to Max that we were able to break out of the encirclement when Nate killed the Demon Prince but also perished. Then this pair, a nutjob and his sword, stayed behind to cover our retreat. One against a legion. More precisely, two. And they almost won. Almost…
We saw that battlefield. Thousands of demon corpses, and a handful of ashes at the center of an incredible massacre. Ashes that were once Max and Boundless Pride. Man and sword fused souls when they were not yet ready, and they paid the price, receiving all the power of the Sword, but only for a short time.
"Do you remember the Last Cycle?" I asked, in the deepest wonder.
"What?" The sword's response sounded a bit contemptuous.
"Do you remember that future which has not yet happened?" I collected myself and clarified.
"Fool!" It thundered insultingly in my mind. "Were a fool, still a fool, always a fool! What does the future have to do with it? What does it matter what has happened and what hasn't? I clearly said that I remember all the hands that have touched me! You petty idiot!"
Ignoring the insult from the Boundless Pride, I understood the main point: the sword indeed retained memories of those who had held it, no matter in which version of the future that happened. On the one hand, this fact would significantly ease my task, but on the other, the contempt it felt for me because of my "past" refusal could complicate everything.
"You're the fool here," I replied much more calmly. "Just think about it: you'd have to be a complete idiot to be rude to the person who could pull you out of the ass. And I mean that quite literally."
"Pull me out!" the sword roared threateningly. "Do it, and I will turn your petty soul into the soul of a true warrior!"
"Posthumously?" I smirked in response. "Thanks, but I am not interested in such a deal."
"Coward!" This time, I caught a note of desperation behind the insult, and that was good.
"I have a different offer for you," I said with an insinuating voice, gently touching the rag lying on the blade.
"An offer from you?!" the sword laughed mockingly, as it seemed. "What can you possibly do? Petty, small, vengeful little soul!"
"How about I find a suitable Master for you?"
"You?!"
"You remember the hands that touched you, so remember the palms of the one who took you right after me," I pressed on.
"You... You know Max Kramer," Boundless Pride uttered much more quietly, as if in contemplation.
"I am glad to see that despite turning into a piece of iron, you haven't lost your ability to think!"
"Pull me out! And take me to him!" the sword cried out in response. It had lost control over itself, and I could clearly hear desperation in its thoughts.
"To him? Alas, I cannot promise that," and I indeed couldn't.
"Then shut up! Did you come here to irritate me? Did you make all this way just to mock me? How fitting for a petty and vile bastard like you, Raven!"
"You've misunderstood me," That's it! I took control of our conversation and just needed to push a bit more. "At this moment, I don't know whether Max is alive or not."
A wave of strange, inhuman sadness from the sword in response to these words washes over me.
"But," I continue after a short pause, "I can promise to find you a Master, if not Max, then another."
"People like Max Kramer are born once in a millennium!" The sword's cry betrays its desperation.
"Nevertheless, among my people, sortudo, he is not unique."
"What? What do you want?!" The sword roared. "I'll give you everything!"
"And I don't need anything from you." This time, I laugh openly. "I'm not going to pick you up and wield you even temporarily. Essentially, you're of no use to me. I just happened to pass by and decided to visit here along the way. Otherwise, had my path not been near the Ridge of Stone Monsters, I might not have come here at all."
"I am power! I am might! I am a weapon capable of crushing even the gods! You must free me!"
"Don't feed me that line." I wave off its cry. "Crush the gods, indeed. You already tried once, while still human... How did that go?"
"..." A telling silence is the answer.
"Can we perhaps come to an agreement without all these insults and outraged cries?" I now find myself similar to a sales manager who has found something to hook a client and is about to close the deal.
"What. Do. You. Want?" Each word is pronounced by the sword separately.
"Personally?" My smile is like sweet honey. "From you? Believe it or not, nothing but what you yourself desire."
"Speak." This time, the sword refrained from swearing and insults, and this nuance finally showed that it had swallowed the bait along with the hook and line.
"So. My proposal. I will take you from here and give a promise to find you a worthy Master."
"How long! How long must I wait for your promise to be fulfilled?!" Its mental scream roars in my head.
"A year, a year and a half, no more." I sigh heavily in response.
"Too long!!!" The cry of Boundless Pride shakes my brain like a solid blow.
"If I cannot fulfill my word for some reason," I say with cold calm, ignoring the echoes of its scream that wander in my head, "then I will take you in my hands and perform the Fusion, giving you a chance to fight against someone who is on par with the gods."
"You? You are a coward! You won't perform the Fusion!"
"I swear on Kamo's name upon your steel."
Having nothing to counter this with, the sword pondered. The silence lasted about five minutes, after which Boundless Pride spoke again.
"You're suggesting that I perish if you don't fulfill your promise. Fusing with an unprepared human, moreover in battle with a god, means death for both of us."
"Exactly," I don't object. "That's exactly what I'm proposing to you. If we can't find a Master for you, then we both die. But we will die in battle, and not just any battle, but in a fight with a Demon Prince." Sighing, I continue, this time with a mocking tone. "Or would you prefer to spend another couple of thousand years in the ass?"
The sword had no reaction to my last proposition, but even through the fabric, I felt its anticipatory vibration.
"Unlike you, I have never been a coward," this time, the sword's voice is calm. "Such a death does not frighten me... It pleases me... But, before I agree, I must know the Price."
"It's not that high," I really don't need anything from him, which makes my position in negotiations unbeatable. "First. From this moment until I pass you to the one who can become your True Master, you will be silent. Understood?"
"..."
How perceptive and understanding.
"Second. You will allow me, and those I permit, to touch you, and you won't try to impose your will."
"..."
This time, its silence is clearly on the edge, but since it said nothing and continues to abide by the first condition, it agrees.
"Third. All this time, you will behave as if you are a normal sword. Hiding your power from the World."
"..."
Apart from the silence, I feel how its recently awakened aura weakens, so much so that soon it is indistinguishable from a standard sword.
"Fourth. All my actions and decisions in relation to you until I hand you over to your future Master are considered correct and not subject to discussion or sabotage."
"..."
It's truly in a tight spot if it's consenting to that. However, two thousand years spent in the backside of a monster probably teaches patience to anyone.
"Fifth. If, in your opinion, I am wrong about something, refer to the fourth point."
"..."
"That's it, those are all my conditions. I really don't need anything from you."
"..."
Very well. But I have to take a chance, and removing the cloth from the blade, I place my palm on the sword. Right on the edge. Right now, Boundless Pride could simply cut off all my fingers. But I'm prepared to take that risk.
"Are we agreed?" My hand firmly grips the blade that could slice through a weightless silk scarf.
"..."
My fingers are still intact - and that's the best possible answer. Agreement. Gathering my strength, I pull the sword from the stone. Though I might not have needed to exert much effort, Boundless Pride leaves its prison easily and casually, as if I were pulling it out not from rock but from heated oil.
I wonder, what would King Arthur have felt if he were pulling his Excalibur not just from stone but from a petrified ass?
[1] AN: story from the author's life.
[2] TLN: the vehicle's size is approximately 20x10x8 meters (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BelAZ_75710).