I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

“It broke… I can’t believe it…”
That was the first thing Panhyma said when she came to in the infirmary.
At the edge of her vision, the shattered remains of her beloved dao were hanging up.

…The fact that she got beaten to a pulp by Gray and still survived, only ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) to immediately worry about her weapon—it was honestly impressive in its own right.
“It was a family heirloom…”
“Must’ve been something special.”

“It was a treasure that also symbolized my clan. It must be repaired, comrade.”
Panhyma said this with a firm tone.
Well, yeah. In a foreign land like this, getting a replacement for a dao—a weapon unknown in the West—was bound to be nearly impossible. If she was calling it an heirloom, it clearly wasn’t just any old sword.

“…And, it’s a weapon that carries a promise.”
So that wasn’t the only reason either.
“A promise?”

“There’s someone waiting for me. It’s a token I have to show them.”
…Someone waiting.
Someone waiting for her.

Must be about her younger sibling.
That was the only purpose this woman had. That was the reason Panhyma, the head of a noble clan, had crossed all the way from the Eastern Continent, chasing that trace.
The odd part was—

I’ve never heard this before.
Not in any of the previous regressions had she ever mentioned anything like this.
Across all cycles, her whole identity had always been defined by searching for her sibling, making a name for herself to help in that quest. So why was I hearing about this now?
[… .]

And just as that thought crossed his mind—
The Hero inside the Holy Sword had gone suspiciously quiet again.
Hero. You're bothered again, aren't you?

[… .]
Silence meant yes.
Ah, dammit.

You pitiful creature.
Given what she'd done to Panhyma in a previous round… yeah, it made sense.
Vespa wasn't the only one the Hero had scarred so deeply, not even the soul could be mended.

[…This time, please… help her find them.]
Of course I will.
This woman deserved to be happy too.

So I’d help her—however I could.
Carlyle looked down at the pile of iron shards Panhyma was staring at in a daze.
He’d at least gathered all the pieces scattered around the training ground, so repair itself should be possible.

There were two major problems, though.
First—
Is there even anyone who can replicate the Sacred Nation’s forging techniques…?

The crafting methods used for a dao and for Western swords were completely different.
The question was, could anyone even imitate that?
[You could probably find someone. This is Yoram, after all.]

The continent’s top talents had all congregated in this academy. Surely someone qualified existed.
And the second problem stemmed directly from that.
Much more realistic—and much more terrifying.

People with that kind of specialized skill were—
“Do you have money to pay for the repair?”
…insanely expensive to hire.

Carlyle had met a few of those types before, and every time, just hearing the price gave him a migraine.
“…”
At the mention of money, Panhyma’s face scrunched up like a deflated cabbage.

“...I… I do not have that kind of funds…”
“…”
“Is there… no other way?”

Her demeanor, usually bordering on arrogant confidence, had completely deflated.
Her eyes wandered helplessly through the air, and her body couldn’t sit still—obvious signs of someone completely lacking in confidence.
…Come to think of it.

This woman had always lost all composure whenever money was involved, in every single timeline.
How should I put it—
She’s always seemed chronically broke, hasn’t she?

[Even after becoming the Hero’s companion and earning a fortune, I remember her being stingier than anyone. Practically a miser.]
Honestly.
She was so stingy that even the Hero had once mocked her for being a “damn cheapskate.”

…And to be fair, Carlyle couldn’t deny he had a similar trait himself.
She’d do literally anything for money.
Probably something she’d picked up on her long, penniless journey from the East.

“So, here’s the thing.”
And because of that—
You didn’t need some grand justification to get her moving.

“I happen to know about a job that pays, would you—”
“What do I need to do first?”
“…”

Can you at least hear me out first?
***
Even within Yoram, which was infamous for its ruthless training curriculum, Letty Ingram had a reputation as an eccentric—even among the lunatics of the Magic Department.

She was more frequently seen in the Crafting Department’s dorms than in those of her own Magic Department.
There were also rumors she possessed skills on par with a master craftsman, so maybe that was where her true talent lay all along.
Among the departments in Yoram, the Swordsmanship and Magic Departments held the most influence. And like all big, powerful groups, they had their own kind of elitist pride.

A student from the noble Magic Department, which claimed to study the truths of the world and the secrets of the cosmos, hanging around the support-focused Crafting Department? That would obviously get you branded as a weirdo.
“Oh, whoa! You really came!”
Letty jumped down from her workbench, her face and clothes smudged all over with soot and grease.

Watching her like this, it became clearer why she got that reputation.
Not because of her obsession with work, per se, but—
Because of the thing she was building.

“…What is that?”
Vespa asked, staring at the massive object filling the workshop.
It looked like a giant rod.

But not just a stick—it could pass for a massive pillar meant to support some colossal ceiling.
“Oh, that?” Letty giggled. “That’s a spear.”
“…”

A spear.
…A spear?
That was a spear?

Carlyle blinked at Goriba, her guard, standing beside him.
Instead of replying, Goriba gave a slow, knowing nod.
“The Ingram bloodline is famous for their oddballs.”

“…Hey! Watch it.”
Letty grumbled, but it was Vespa who gave the stronger reaction.
“W-wait, Ingram…?!”

“You know that name?” Carlyle asked.
“I took a few classes in the Magic Department! I think the highest-ranking professor there had that name…”
“Ohh.”

Carlyle nodded.
So she’s from a famous family, huh.
He’d already suspected this girl wasn’t ordinary, especially after that weird test she passed.

But he hadn’t expected this.
“…Could you not bring that up?”
Letty didn’t look too thrilled at the mention.

“I don’t really want to talk about my brother.”
She kicked lightly at the floor.
Her voice… hinted at a complicated story behind it.

Even Goriba kept quiet, his expression grim. Clearly not a light topic.
“Anyway! Let’s drop that and move on,” Letty said, forcing a cheerful voice as she dragged a table to the center of the workshop.
“Let me get straight to the point. There’s something I want to make. And I think you can help.”

“What is it you’d like to make?”
“That’s a se-cret.”
“…”

You little—
Carlyle fixed her with an exasperated stare, but she just stuck out her tongue and grinned.
“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. But once it’s done, it’s gonna be amazing.”

Letty’s smile sparkled.
“It’s gonna be huuuge and awesome. I’ll need a crazy power source, too.”
“…”

Whatever she was talking about—
There was only one thing to clarify first.
“What are you offering in return?”

“Anything.”
Letty said it in a serious voice.
“Anything I can give you.”

“…”
“Money, skills—you name it. I’m not just some nobody, you know. I’m a noble daughter of a pretty prominent family. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“In that case, can you fix this?”

Carlyle held out Panhyma’s broken dao.
And received a splendid answer in return.
“Of course! Can I maybe even add a few features while I’m at it?”

“…Excuse me?”
“It’s a gorgeous katana. Absolute top tier. Just looking at it makes my soul as a crafter boil. I don’t know how it ended up this broken, but I want to do something nice for its owner.”
“…”

What kind of person even knows how to forge Eastern-style blades?
Yoram, of course. A place overflowing with every kind of mad genius.
Regardless, everything Letty just said was exactly what Carlyle needed.

Fix Panhyma’s dao. Give her some money.
And maybe even open a path for strengthening Vespa—or the Holy Sword itself.
Sure enough, Letty brought it up immediately.

“Your friend over there—I think she’s got what I need.”
Letty pointed at Vespa, who blinked in surprise.
“Me?”

“Yup, yup. From what I saw before… there’s something huge clinging to you.”
“Something huge…?”
“If I’m right… it’s something that’s playing god in some other dimension or something. Normally, it wouldn’t pay the slightest attention to a human.”

“…”
“But I think it likes you. It’s sticking real close—like it’s guarding you. I bet if you asked it for a favor, it’d do it.”
Even something like powering a mysterious device.

“R-right…”
While Letty was practically glowing with excitement, Vespa looked dazed.
It didn’t feel real to her at all.

“But I still don’t know what it is. And we barely communicate.”
“That’s why you need to find out!”
“Sorry?”

“Honestly, I’m just guessing from intuition too. Could be something way better than I think… or way worse. There’s only one way to be sure.”
Letty flashed a grin.
“Touch the ‘Orb of Truth’ inside the Magic Tower.”

“…What even is that?”
“The Orb of Truth. It lets you interface with anything—even unidentified lifeforms—on human terms. With that, you’ll be able to talk to it, no matter what it is.”
“No, I mean…”

Carlyle interrupted, rubbing his temples like he was getting a migraine.
“Did you just say we should go inside the Magic Tower?”
The Magic Tower.

A den of elitist supremacists who harbored endless contempt, hostility, and arrogance toward anyone who wasn’t a mage.
Carlyle had clashed with their mages so many times across his lifetimes that he’d lost count.
They were the kind of lunatics who’d shoot a mana blast at someone just for annoying them.

[… .]
“….”
And one of those lunatics might’ve been standing right here.

Anyway.
Even among themselves, mages operated under brutal, oppressive hierarchies. For non-mages to enter?
“Wouldn’t be surprised if they grabbed us for human experimentation.”

“Relax, relax. There’s a way.”
Oh?
Carlyle perked up and looked at Letty.

You could’ve led with that.
“What is it?”
“…”

“…Miss Letty?”
The sudden silence was not comforting.
Carlyle glanced between Vespa and Letty, then closed his eyes and braced himself.

“Here’s the deal. I can sneak you in using a disguised identity.”
“…But?”
Letty raised both hands and pointed at him and Vespa.

“You two will have to pretend to be married.”
“…”
“Especially the guy—he needs to look like a real piece of trash. Total sleazebag womanizer.”

“…”
So this is what they meant when they said the quest would be “deadly difficult.”