A question had been nagging at me for a while.
What was that golden glow on my sword before it broke? And that strange blue light from the knight—what was that?
If that's mana, then how do I activate it? Do I have to say weird phrases and throw fireballs like in the movies?
Suddenly, an idea crossed my mind.
Svend… he might know.
I turned to look at him. He lay curled up on the stone floor, eyes tightly shut.
He had probably already forgotten about the pain in his arm, hadn't he?
I crawled toward him.
The less-injured of my two arms was the one with the broken knuckles—I couldn't even use it to prop myself up.
I could barely stand on one foot, and even that was hard, given the muscle pain and the many cuts I'd taken.
So I crawled.
And when I was just inches from his face, I whispered:"Svend…"
He jolted as if he'd heard a ghost, slowly opening his eyes.
"Bill?" he asked in a low voice, frowning.
I met his gaze seriously and nodded.
"Yes, Svend. It's me."
I looked at his arm… or rather, where his arm should've been.
I felt an overwhelming guilt. He was my enemy, I know—but if we'd talked instead of fighting right from the start, would he still be like this?More importantly:
If I hadn't taken Desmond's body… would he still be alive?
I didn't want to know.
"How's your arm?" I asked, guilt heavy in my voice.
He lowered his gaze a little and answered,
"It's not bleeding anymore. I made a tourniquet... still hurts, though. But hey, what about you?"
"H-How are you even alive?" he stammered. "I saw you fighting soldiers, bleeding all over the place.
You even fought a knight of the realm, Bill. A two-core knight! How!? Do you know what that means? It means your bounty will go up—hell, they'll probably put one on me, too!"
He frowned, looking at me with a trace of concern.
"Svend, I've got questions too—but first, we need to get out of here. We won't make it if we're both wounded and surrounded by a thousand goblins."
I pointed at my injuries and asked,"Can you help me stand up?"
…
While talking with Svend, I learned some interesting things.Like the knight I fought—apparently, he's a two-core knight from Camelot.
At first, I didn't understand what he meant, so I just asked him directly.
He looked at me like I was insane, like it was common knowledge.
And maybe it was… but I'd only just arrived here yesterday, so I didn't let him keep anything to himself.
He reluctantly explained, like he was teaching a child:
"Cores are part of a person's soul. There are nine cores in total.
Each one grants a special ability or element tied to your soul.
You can learn passed-down skills, sure, but your own abilities are the most important.
Each core has its own name:
The first is the Echo Core.
The second, the Trail.
The third, the Veil.
The fourth, Presence.
The fifth, the Herald.
The sixth, Ruin.
The seventh, Destruction.
As for the last two… no one knows.
No one's ever reached that level—or at least, no one we know of."
I had questions, so I asked,"What about the names? Who named them?"
"Oh, that... A man discovered some ruins in a distant kingdom called Daemon.There, he found the method for creating a core.
Unfortunately, he himself erased the information about the last two—so no one knows how to reach them.He passed the methods on, and no one dared to question him."
The mention of Daemon surprised me a little. But if I think about it, it makes sense that records would exist—after all, I'm in the past.Still, I couldn't shake the curiosity of what it's like right now.Maybe I'll find out in the future.
"I need to know how to create a core, Svend," I said, looking straight into his green eyes.
He gave me that confused, lost look again.
"You don't already have one?" he asked, as if I were some kind of freak.
"…No?" I replied, even more confused.
"If that's true, then there's no way you survived just with skill alone.With the golden light you gave off in the forest, I thought you'd formed one right then and there. That's why I led you to the lake.
Are you sure you don't have one? Or did you not even know what a core was?"
He really sees me as a weirdo now, I thought, noticing the way he was staring at me.
All I could do was be honest.
"I don't know…" I said, embarrassed.
Svend let out a long sigh, looking down at the scattered bodies.Some were still breathing—barely.
"I don't have a core, and you don't even know how to use yours," he said, lifting his gaze toward the rocky ceiling.
"I have to make one, and you've got to learn to control yours.
So sit down. I'll teach you what little I've learned," he said with a smile.
There was pride in his eyes.
Now he talks to me informally, huh?