Chapter 68

The Game Difficulty
Is Crazy

It was the third day since arriving in Haven.

Today was the day the two swords he had commissioned from Felix and Gotrel would finally be completed.

“Your grin’s about to split your face. Something good happen?”

Romina asked, pretending to tidy the bedding before flopping down onto the bed.

For a moment, Glen wondered if making her his exclusive maid had actually caused him to lose a perfectly good maid who would at least clean the bedding.

“Today’s the day I pick up what I ordered from the blacksmith.”

“From a blacksmith? What did you leave with him?”

“What else would I commission from a blacksmith besides swords?”

“It could be armor— ow!”

Glen flicked Romina on the forehead to stop her from nitpicking for no reason, then began getting ready to leave.

He could feel a burning glare on the back of his head, but he ignored it.

“I’ll be out for a few hours, so behave and wait here.”

“I don’t want to.”

Romina shot him a resentful glare in retaliation for the flick.

“I’ll spread my wings and horns and run all over the city, shouting that my master is Glen Wordsworth and—”

“I’m heading out.”

Clunk!

As expected, her threats didn’t work at all.

Ignoring Romina’s nonsense, Glen left the room.

On his wrist was the familiar shackle used for demon prisoners—the magic-sealing handcuff.

One of the places Glen had to visit today was the Hall of Souls.

‘Just in case I need to use the gray ring, I should preserve my demonic energy.’

A situation where the gray ring might be needed—

That meant a fight with the Reaper who managed the Hall of Souls.

Last time, on his way back after commissioning the sword from Gotrel, Glen had been attacked by a Reaper.

‘There’s no rule saying that can’t happen again.’

Of course, that fight had happened because Glen lingered too long waiting for Gotrel, allowing the Reaper to notice his presence.

This time, he was only going to pick up the completed swords, so the same thing shouldn’t happen.

‘But what if a Lunatic Trial suddenly appears in front of me?’

Getting Gotrel’s sword without meeting the Reaper was only possible if there were no variables.

The world surrounding Glen was one where Lunatic Trials—ready to shatter expectations and stab you in the back—clearly existed.

In the worst case, the perfectly fine Reaper could suddenly gain Lunatic difficulty and start chasing him.

‘So I need to be prepared.’

So that he wouldn’t run short of demonic energy for the gray ring when he really needed it, after giving so much of it to Romina.

In addition, Glen had prepared several magic scrolls to deal with a possible encounter with the Reaper.

‘Most of them are for escape, but that’s still better than nothing.’

Unless a catastrophe occurred where the Seven-Star Reaper became Eight-Star, he wouldn’t die to it.

‘Just show yourself. I’ll give you a proper lesson and turn you into some sweet Lunatic rewards.’

Imagining a Lunatic that hadn’t even appeared yet, Glen headed toward his destination—the cemetery of the Haven Monastery—with eyes full of excitement.

The route was the same as three days ago.

Using the excuse of paying respects, Glen entered the cemetery and, with Gotrel’s hammer and Ruidanes’s Soul Grave magic, arrived at the Hall of Souls.

A faded gray world where everything in sight was translucent.

Somewhere in that silent world, Glen opened his eyes once more.

After checking his surroundings, he let out a sigh of relief.

He had worried that the half-finished Soul Grave of Ruidanes, recreated through magic, might send him far away from Gotrel.

But fortunately, the place where Glen stood was the outer area of the Hall of Souls.

‘From here to Gotrel’s forge isn’t that far.’

If he calculated precisely, it would take about an hour round trip.

And it took roughly three hours for the Reaper to recognize an intruder in the Hall of Souls.

That was more than enough time to retrieve the completed sword and return to the world of the living.

“That is, assuming the Reaper doesn’t get slapped with Lunatic difficulty.”

Clicking his tongue, Glen hastened his steps toward Gotrel’s forge.

Gotrel could be found in the same place as before—the forge on the outskirts of the Hall of Souls.

The difference from three days ago was that the clear, rhythmic sound of hammering was gone.

It was a shame not to hear the beautiful hammering of a master craftsman, but the absence of that sound was definitely good news for Glen.

‘It must mean the swords are finished.’

With excitement and anticipation, Glen stepped into the forge.

There stood Gotrel’s soul, arms crossed, waiting for him with a solemn posture.

“You’ve come, living client.”

“I’ve been desperately waiting for this day for three long days.”

“Worry not. The sword is complete.”

As he spoke, Gotrel placed a sword on the anvil.

It was a plain longsword, completely free of extravagant decoration.

What stood out was that the handle was made of the same material as the blade—likely because all the materials used were the ones Glen had provided.

“……”

As if possessed, Glen reached out and grasped the sword.

A chilling cold flowed along the blade and into his fingertips, sending goosebumps across his skin.

The handle felt as light as holding a pen, and the beautifully extended blade emitted a freezing aura that made his eyes ache just looking at it.

‘This is Gotrel’s one and only masterpiece.’

It was truly astonishing.

Just gazing at the sword made his head spin.

The difference between a graphic seen through a monitor and a blade that truly existed before his eyes was beyond comparison.

Swallowing dry saliva, Glen looked up at Gotrel.

“What is the sword’s name?”

He already knew, but he wanted to hear it directly from its creator.

At that moment, Gotrel’s lifeless eyes flashed with a sharp gleam.

“Einheria.”

At once, blue light particles swirled wildly through Glen’s vision before forming words.

《Einheria》

《Grade》 : Legendary
《Type》 : Long Sword

《Options》
: 『Soul Bound to the Blade』 – This sword absorbs half of the experience gained by its wielder to grow, gaining additional abilities through a total of five stages of evolution.
: 『Soul-Carving Edge』 – The powerful and negative spiritual energy bound to this sword partially carves away the soul of those it cuts.

《Story》
: Gotrel, called an incompetent blacksmith for never forging a single sword in his lifetime, left behind his one and only masterpiece after dying and becoming a soul.

The information window filled his entire vision.

It matched perfectly with the legendary artifact Glen remembered.

“I finally got it……”

For two months, he had swung around ordinary-grade swords that were lying around in the armory.

At last, Glen had obtained a weapon worthy of a veteran player.

Of course, simply having it wouldn’t suddenly make him strong enough to defeat enemies he couldn’t before.

As written in its options, Einheria was a unique artifact that only displayed its true power after growing—by stealing half of the user’s earned experience like a living being.

In the short term, losing half of his experience might seem bad, but Glen clearly remembered what kind of artifact Einheria became at its final stage.

‘Compared to the absurd abilities Einheria gains at its final stage, half of my experience is nothing.’

Moreover, even as a growth-type artifact, Einheria was still a legendary-grade sword.

If combined with Glen’s unique passive ability, Favor of Blades, it would show durability and sharpness close to a myth-grade weapon.

And on top of that, its first-stage ability, Soul-Carving Edge, which dealt additional damage to enemies.

‘At this point, I almost want to fight the Reaper just once.’

Of course, he couldn’t guarantee victory, and the Reaper didn’t drop much experience or loot anyway, so he left it as a pleasant fantasy.

“I’m glad you seem satisfied.”

Gotrel smiled faintly.

“And how about you, Gotrel?”

“……”

A blacksmith who had never made a single sword in his lifetime, finally leaving behind one masterpiece after becoming a soul.

The emotions stirred by that sight could not belong to Glen alone.

The creator of the sword quietly raised his gaze, then closed his eyes.

“I devoted my entire life to a single sword, neglecting even my duty as a father. I poured everything into a sword I never completed, without caring how my child grew up.”

Gotrel’s voice fell softly.

Glen listened in silence.

It was the least he could do for the one who had gifted him the sword that would stay with him until the end.

“And in the end, I failed to complete the sword. I died without achieving anything, neither as a blacksmith nor as a father.”

Gotrel slowly opened his eyes, his translucent gaze turning toward Glen.

“But at the end of my life, you appeared and allowed me to fulfill my unachieved wish.”

“I told you, didn’t I? That I’d proudly present to the world the masterpiece left behind by a blacksmith who died bearing the stigma of incompetence.”

Gotrel let out a small laugh.

“Now that I think about it, you were already certain back then that I could complete Einheria.”

“Do you want me to tell you how I knew about you?”

“No. That won’t be necessary anymore.”

Whooooo—

A breeze suddenly passed overhead.

With it, Gotrel’s translucent body began to scatter in the wind.

“No matter what, the fact that you are my benefactor does not change.”

Lowering his gaze, Gotrel spoke.

“I have no regrets left. Thank you.”

“Well… I think you still do.”

Glen looked at the bewildered Gotrel with a gentle smile.

“I plan to show your sword to Felix.”

“W-What did you just say…?”

“I’ll tell your son that his father was not a failure. That he was a man who left behind a masterpiece everyone will remember.”

Gotrel’s translucent pupils shook violently, and then he bowed his head deeply.

“Thank you. Truly… thank you.”

With those words, Gotrel vanished with the wind.

Having cast aside his final regret, he was guided fully into the world of souls.

“I’m the one who’s grateful.”

Looking at the empty space where Gotrel had been, Glen smiled bitterly.

Glen retraced his steps and stepped onto the magic circle that led back to the world of the living.

He safely returned to the cemetery of the Haven Monastery.

Fortunately, the Reaper did not appear while he retrieved Gotrel’s sword.

‘Does it have good instincts, or bad ones?’

It was nice not having his sentimental moment interrupted, but all the careful preparations he had made ended up being useless.

Come to think of it, it was always like this.

Prepare thoroughly, and nothing happens.

Leave even a small opening, and something barges right in.

At this point, it almost felt like someone was watching his condition and deliberately assigning Lunatic Trials accordingly.

Either way, the absence of a Lunatic difficulty trial was, strictly speaking, good news.

“At least I didn’t suffer for nothing.”

Muttering that to himself, Glen put Gotrel’s hammer and Einheria into his inventory.

And at that very moment—

The air around the cemetery suddenly sank with a heavy chill.

At the same time, Glen felt an ominous, unsettling presence behind him.

When he turned, a figure cloaked in a dark crimson robe stood there.

“The Black Cult?”

Glen frowned as he looked at the robed intruder.

In broad daylight.

In the cemetery of the Minos Order’s monastery.

A Black Cult follower standing there alone.

It was bizarre and suspicious beyond words—but soon, a serious light entered Glen’s eyes.

The Black Cultist pulled back the dark crimson hood, revealing his face.

Lifeless purple eyes, black hair, and a gaunt face.

The young man’s appearance matched someone in Glen’s memory perfectly.

Glen muttered softly, sharp light flashing in his eyes.

“Farseer…….”

The highest-ranking priest directly beneath the sole cult leader of the Black Cult—the Farseer.

One of the monsters who could annihilate an entire territory with just seven members.

And now, one of them stood before Glen.

“Ash-gray… hair and eyes.”

The dead-eyed youth smiled eerily.

“I found you.”