I Can See the Sword’s Memories

Chapter 52:  The Otherworldly Ruins (3)

It was a peculiar place. As I walked along the corridor, I couldn’t help but reflect. 

The hallway stretched endlessly forward, clearly designed to lead to a specific destination. 

It bore a purposeful design to guide one toward its end. Yet, every step of the way seemed intent on barring entry.

Spikes jutting from the floor were the least of my concerns. Trip an invisible thread, and arrows as swift as beams of light would come hurtling toward me. Misstep onto a sinking platform, and the ceiling would crash down to meet the floor in an instant.

A faint fragment of a distant memory surfaced in my mind—something I read while studying with Flora.

Before the empire established its presence here, the world was said to be in chaos. Kingdoms rose and fell repeatedly, scattering vast treasures across the land through looting and war.

Some individuals created dungeons to protect these treasures—stockpiling their wealth, awaiting their return one day, or hoping their descendants would retrieve them.

These dungeon makers would hardly welcome intruders. Naturally, such places were equipped with all manner of security mechanisms to repel unwanted guests.

This must be one of those dungeons.

If so, why had the Reincarnator sent me here? The gaze I met before his disappearance, along with his confident demeanor, suggested that he had orchestrated this situation deliberately.

‘Could it be… to give me the treasure?’

No, that couldn’t be it. Reincarnators are the sort who treat human lives as trivial in their quest to reclaim their former power. Suppressing the flames of frustration rising within me, I drew my sword.

Sring—

The light of the torches along the walls scattered softly across the blade. My gaze fixed on a figure slowly approaching from the other side of the corridor.

Though humanoid in form, it was not human. There was no trace of life in its movements, and its body was entirely composed of cold, unyielding metal.

A puppet.

Even its inner workings were mechanical. Instead of blood, oil seeped from it, and where organs should have been, gears turned and clicked.

It was the second time I had encountered one of these. I pointed my sword at the approaching puppet.

Kkiririk—

The sound of rusted gears grinding echoed loudly. Neglected for years, its joints moved stiffly, creaking with each step.

The puppet abruptly froze. A telltale sign of an impending attack. These steel puppets took considerable time to recognize their target.

I didn’t wait for it to act. I charged forward, swinging my blade. My body, enhanced with mana, accelerated rapidly, delivering a series of brutal slashes.

Kaaang—!

The steel puppet was unlike a human. Most vital strikes that would work against a person were ineffective. But there were weak points.

‘I need to target the joints.’

As I retracted my blade from its chest, I spun in place, seamlessly transitioning into another attack. The blade arced around, slamming into the puppet’s right arm.

Kaang—!

The puppet’s swordsmanship was far from impressive. Its movements were slower than mine. The only challenge it posed was its formidable durability.

Kang! Kaang! Tang! Ting!

My small boots moved swiftly, leaving countless footprints around the puppet. Amidst the rising dust, I darted through, striking at the puppet’s body from every angle.

The fight felt tedious. The puppet’s swordsmanship was rigid, lacking the ingenuity or clever maneuvers a living swordsman might employ. Every move it made was predictable, mechanical.

There was much to gain from dueling a living swordsman. Unorthodox strikes and novel techniques provided invaluable experience, forming the foundation of my growth.

For someone like me, who longed for quicker growth, a steel puppet was the worst possible opponent.

Crunch—!

With a final, decisive strike, the steel puppet crumpled to the ground. Its limbs dangled uselessly as rusted gears ground futilely, unable to move further due to the White Dragon Sword embedded deep in its core.

Twisting my sword, I destroyed the mechanisms within, as if severing muscle and bone. 

A normal blade would have dulled or shattered, but the White Dragon Sword retained its razor-sharp edge.

‘It’s getting progressively harder…’

Retrieving my sword, I looked beyond the corridor and contemplated. The deeper I ventured, the more difficult the dungeon became. Traps appeared more frequently, and the steel puppets grew slightly stronger.

It felt as though the dungeon itself was asking a question: How far can you go?

‘Was this all just to test me…?’

At this point, the Reincarnator’s intentions were becoming faintly clear. Perhaps he intended to use me to conquer this dungeon.

As I advanced through the dungeon with relative ease, I reached a spacious chamber, only to find my progress halted. The obstacle was a massive puppet sitting in the center of the room.

Though made of steel, this puppet was different from the others I had encountered. It wielded a colossal greatsword and was clad in pitch-black armor that showed no signs of rust despite the passage of time.

There was something peculiar about it: a small necklace adorned its neck, designed with long, needle-like metallic pieces dangling from it.

Since it wasn’t a living being, I couldn’t gauge its abilities. Yet, my instincts warned me—it wouldn’t be an easy opponent.

The evidence was all around it. Scattered white bones littered the area, alongside battered armor, broken spears, rotted magic wands, and various other remnants of past adventurers.

These relics told a grim tale of countless others who had reached this room only to meet their demise.

[Oh, foolish one… turn back.]

I was examining the chamber when a voice startled me. I hadn’t expected the puppet to speak.

“Can you talk…?”

[Foolish… foolish…]

I posed a question, but the response was nothing but an empty echo. Like the previous puppets, it seemed to be repeating preset lines.

The puppet continued to mutter the same phrase over and over without attacking. This gave me a chance to observe my surroundings. My gaze shifted to the space behind it.

There was a massive iron door—a path forward. I cautiously moved along the wall, inching toward the door.

[Turn back… turn? Back…]

The puppet repeated its words. As long as I didn’t approach too closely, it seemed it wouldn’t attack. At least, that was what I thought as I steadily drew closer to the door.

Creak—

A foreboding grinding of gears came from the seated puppet. Its monotonous voice stopped abruptly. My grip on my sword tightened as I swallowed hard.

Boom—!

The giant puppet slammed into the ground as it stood, and I sprinted forward immediately, aiming to reach the iron door.

Thud—!

“Ugh…!”

I threw myself against the heavy door with all my strength, but it wouldn’t budge. I had no choice but to retreat quickly as the enormous greatsword came crashing down where I had just been standing.

Whooosh—!

Kaang—!

The weapon resembled a massive bludgeon more than a sword. I moved swiftly, my body light as I regained my balance. 

Placing my hands on the ground for support, I pivoted and immediately steadied my stance.

The greatsword followed relentlessly, but it only sliced through empty air as I dodged.

Instead of launching an attack, I focused on analyzing its attack patterns. This was the correct approach. Unlike the puppets I had fought earlier, this one was qualitatively different.

Its movements were smooth, and its attacks were varied. Even when I tried to recreate similar situations, it didn’t repeat the same actions.

‘I would’ve been in serious trouble if I underestimated it…’

Fortunately, its speed was slow.

Whooosh—!

I ducked under another swing, but just as I thought I’d evaded the attack, I heard a Creak—! The puppet’s chest opened, and from within, a sharp flash of light shot toward me.

Thwack!

“Argh…!”

A thick steel spike struck my shoulder, and two more pierced my thighs. I had no time to react. Stumbling back, I examined my injuries quickly.

The pain wasn’t too severe—thanks to the White Dragon Heart Art, which dulled physical sensations. 

I couldn’t pull the spikes out immediately due to the risk of bleeding, but since my arms and legs were still functional, I could keep fighting for now.

I exhaled sharply, raising my sword. Holes had been punched through my sister’s precious body. The fury that raged within me grew fiercer, flaring uncontrollably.

Elsewhere

“Where are we?”

“This appears to be… a dungeon.”

Envy and Shave muttered to themselves as they examined their surroundings. It was a dungeon built in an unknown era. The inscriptions on the walls were indecipherable.

“There’s something strange about the flow of the power source…”

Envy’s observation was accurate. Shave spread his mana throughout the dungeon to analyze its flow. 

The design didn’t resemble ancient dungeon styles, but it wasn’t similar to modern structures either.

“Could it be from another dimension?”

“That’s impossible…”