I Can See the Sword’s Memories

Chapter 54: Perpetual Mechanism (1)

Despite the passage of countless years, the flawless gears of the steel puppet began to slow. 

The blue mana coursing over its metallic surface had caused significant damage to the power source within.

Screech—Creak—

The noise grew louder. With its power interrupted, the puppet’s joints groaned and screamed. 

The once-fluid internal mechanisms misaligned, sending gears flying and springs bursting through its joints.

Even so, the puppet continued to move, driven by the purpose for which it had been created. 

Though its greatsword hung limply in its grasp, it still swung at the girl before it. But its strikes were now sluggish, lacking force, and its damaged joints refused to obey.

Creak—

I stood still, my hand resting on the puppet’s chest as it met its end. My mind was foggy, overwhelmed by the flood of mixed memories. Don’t forget. I had to remember my name, my origin.

As a vision of a vast, white snowfield crossed my mind, my sister’s face was the first image I recalled. Saeran’s face—this body I now occupied.

It wasn’t the rage I felt toward the Reincarnator or the realization that I was myself. It was through my sister that I found clarity in my identity. That was the most vivid memory I carried.

Who is the most beautiful in the world?

It was the question I asked myself every morning in front of the mirror. Without hesitation, I always answered. Across countless dimensions and the memories that spanned them, none could compare to my sister Saeran.

It’s me.

Now, I was the one using this body. So, the answer wasn’t wrong. As I recognized myself, the torrent of memories began to recede. My senses returned, and my identity reasserted itself.

This was only natural. The dominant memories of this body belonged to either me or my sister, Saeran. Any other memories were merely tools for growth.

What I had assumed to be a pure blessing also came with an unforeseen drawback. Absorbing too many memories in a short time risked losing myself entirely. I had been lucky this time. I couldn’t be certain I’d recover so easily next time.

Whirlwind Collapsing Strike…

I retrieved my White Dragon Sword while recalling the name of a martial art. It was the very technique I had just used. 

However, the flow of the movements was incomplete. The sword I had relied on to relay its memory had broken midway, disrupting the sequence.

Even the mnemonic phrases for the technique were fragmented. The opening and closing sections were missing; only the middle portion remained intact.

I can’t use it yet…

Like other techniques I’d refined, this one would require meticulous adjustments. I was no longer the novice I once was. 

Through the swords I’d encountered, I had gained an array of knowledge, including insights into the untapped potential of incomplete techniques from other dimensions.

I didn’t leave the chamber the puppet had guarded—not immediately, at least. My body was too drained, and the hastily treated wounds had reopened, bleeding once more.

This was a place where I couldn’t predict what might come next. I needed to restore my body to a level capable of fighting. 

I retrieved the key from the puppet’s neck and sat in the corner, tending to my wounds while chewing on dried jerky.

Holding up an empty potion bottle, I marveled as its contents worked wonders on my injuries. 

The moment it touched my wounds, the torn flesh regenerated almost miraculously, akin to the legendary feathers of the Stormbird spoken of among the White Frost Tribe.

If we’d had potions like this back then… could I have saved my dying kin?

I quickly shook my head. It was a meaningless thought. The past could not be changed.

Roughly three hours passed before I felt strong enough to rise. As I approached the door, I halted in my tracks.

The sword…

My gaze fell on the greatsword still gripped by the puppet’s lifeless hand. Like the puppet itself, the sword had rested in this chamber for untold years, yet its edge showed no signs of wear. This was no ordinary blade.

I want it…

My greed for swords far exceeded that of most knights. In the past, I had restrained myself due to the eyes of others. But now, with no one watching, I decided to embrace my desires.

With a careful, almost reverent touch, I pried the greatsword from the puppet’s hand. It offered no resistance, relinquishing the weapon easily.

“Oh…”

The weight was immense. Without mana to bolster my strength, I couldn’t even budge it.

No memories…

The sword carried no memories, likely because its wielder had not been a living being. A twinge of disappointment flitted through me, and I sighed.

Then, to my surprise, mana from within me began draining rapidly through my hands. 

Before I could react, the sword emitted a strange clicking noise, like the sound of gears, and its size began to shrink.

“What the…”

The weight didn’t change, but the blade’s dimensions did. The once two-meter-long sword now measured less than half that length, and its broad blade, once wider than my torso, had compressed significantly.

“Impressive…”

“Not bad… No, it’s incredible.”

The reduced size of the sword made it far easier to wield. Although the weight remained unchanged, it was manageable as long as I used mana to enhance my body. 

However, the sword’s mana consumption was abysmal. Even now, mana drained continuously through the contact of my hands.

For most knights, simply holding the sword would deplete their mana reserves. I had no choice but to set it down. How was I supposed to carry it?

After a moment of contemplation, I untied the leather strap from the sword sheath on my back and wrapped it tightly around the hilt of the sword. The long, trailing strap made it look like a leash.

And in practice, that wasn’t far from the truth. Dragging the sword behind me by the strap, I approached the sealed door.

The massive door still showed no intention of opening, but with the key in my possession, it was no longer an issue. I inserted the key I had taken from the steel puppet.

Click—

***

The gigantic door creaked open.

“Curious!”

“Pardon?”

“I said it’s curious! With that speed, it could have overtaken us long ago!”

“That’s…!”

Envy glanced back as they continued running. The light of the torches illuminated the face of the Reincarnator pursuing them, twisted into an expression that could only be described as demonic. Despite his grim visage, there was no urgency in his eyes.

Shave’s observation wasn’t wrong.

“Could it be… that he has some sort of goal?”

“There’s no other explanation!”

Still, the two magicians didn’t dare stop running. They had no choice—they felt certain stopping would mean their deaths. Whatever the Reincarnator’s intentions were, they had to keep moving.

“Shave! Ahead!”

“I see it!”

The surroundings blurred as they sped past. The magicians had to dismantle various traps blocking their way. 

Collapsing walls or spikes shooting up from the floor were trivial; they simply released mana to disable the dungeon’s mechanisms temporarily.

Even when the path ahead abruptly turned into a sheer drop, they overcame it with ease. Using mana to create small footholds, they leaped across the gaps.

The true problem lay in the steel puppets that occasionally appeared.

Magic was ineffective against them. The special metal composing their bodies significantly weakened the impact of spells. 

Instead of directly attacking the puppets, the magicians manipulated the terrain, using the dungeon’s traps to crush or impale them.

For instance, they deliberately activated traps to smash the puppets or pierce their bodies with sturdy spikes. During these encounters, the Reincarnator never approached.

He simply lingered in the shadows, shouting incomprehensible words.

By this point, even the most oblivious person would have realized the Reincarnator’s intent.

“It’s like… he wants us to clear the path for him,” Envy muttered.

“That’s my thought as well…”

Despite understanding the Reincarnator’s goal, there was nothing they could do about it. What could possibly lie at the end of this dungeon that was worth all this effort? Shave bit his lip in frustration.

Repeated battles left the two magicians drained. Their mana reserves were nearly depleted, and the prolonged effects of physical reinforcement were taking a toll. Their movements grew sluggish.

Yet the distance between them and the Reincarnator neither widened nor closed. He matched their pace, slowing down as they faltered.

After hours of relentless running, their exhaustion peaked. Just as they felt they could go no further, they entered a chamber unlike any they had encountered before.

The vast space was dominated by an enormous machine. Shave and Envy stood frozen, mesmerized by the sight.

Even with the Reincarnator closing in behind them, they couldn’t help but gawk. Any magician would have reacted the same way. 

Before them stood a colossal mechanism with golden gears spinning as it produced mana.

The expansive walls were covered in glowing magic circles, amplifying the mana generated by the machine.

“The dungeon’s power source…?”

It wasn’t just a power source. The machine generated mana, amplified it through magic circles, and channeled the enhanced mana back into itself, sustaining an endless cycle of motion.

What stood before them was the perpetual mechanism that so many magicians had dreamed of.

Then, a thunderous rumble echoed from above.

Five massive steel puppets, accompanied by a small girl, crashed down into the chamber.