Chapter 80
Kusanagi’s Sword (1)
From what Doyoung had glimpsed in her mind, the old woman could not have been unaware of her.
Judging by her hesitation, it was clear this was no trivial connection.
“If you know something, please tell me.”
“…You ask an old woman difficult questions.”
It was unreasonable to question someone who had just awakened, but there was no choice.
Once she fell asleep again, she wouldn’t rise for quite a long time.
And during that time, we couldn’t simply wait around.
‘And, in the end, I’m just asking a question.’
If I didn’t attach too much significance to it, it was a perfectly reasonable inquiry.
Unfortunately, for the old woman, it seemed this was no trivial name.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“From someone I know.”
“Then why ask me? How would I know?”
“I saw it in Doyoung’s mind. The scene where she takes him to you.”
At that time, even assassins were chasing her, threatening her life.
If it weren’t a trusted person, she likely wouldn’t have gone to them so easily.
“…It’s nothing much.”
The old woman hesitated, then spoke.
“I just helped a little on the way up from Jeju. Like Taesan.”
“Then… do you know his whereabouts?”
“….”
The old woman fell silent again.
It wasn’t a difficult question. If she didn’t know, she could simply say so.
But closing her mouth suggested…
‘She doesn’t entirely not know. There’s some reason behind it.’
It seemed there was a story she couldn’t tell.
Sehyeon waved his hand playfully.
“It’s fine if it’s hard to say. I’m not forcing you to tell me.”
“…I’m sorry. You’ve done so much to help me.”
“Well, I was just curious. He’s no longer that important anyway.”
Only vague memories remained.
Too much time had passed for hatred to linger.
The future mattered more than the dusty past.
In that sense…
“Then, please tell me about this.”
Sehyeon’s gaze fell on the massive sword the old woman held.
“It’s not an ordinary sword.”
“You ask a lot of questions from a freshly awakened old person.”
“I just wondered why such an extraordinary item would be here.”
The circumstances could be roughly guessed.
Whether it was deliberately placed to seal the old woman or left behind due to an unforeseen ancient transformation, it was clear that the weapon had been brought by an intruder.
And that made it even more curious.
‘I already know who the intruder is.’
Piecing together the testimonies of Doyoung and the night guards, it was easy to deduce.
“Tattoos all over the body, a hulking, steroid-like physique, and darkened veins protruding everywhere.”
Such clear characteristics made it impossible to ignore.
The Purple Blood Berserker, Kuroda Hajime.
A psycho who attacks relentlessly, spewing purple-hued blood.
One of Hailhwan’s subordinates.
But what bothered me…
‘He never wielded that great sword in his past life.’
As personal armament, he had used a three-meter bastard sword, and Sehyeon had crafted a matching magical sword for him.
Yet in this life, he appeared wielding such a thing out of nowhere.
And that great sword was probably…
“A divine artifact?”
Sehyeon asked subtly, and the old woman nodded.
“The Kusanagi Sword. A divine artifact of Japan.”
“…Excuse me?”
It was a name impossible not to know.
One of East Asia’s three great divine artifacts.
Korea had the Celestial Emperor’s token, China had the Emperor’s jade seal… Japan had the Kusanagi Sword.
A divine artifact forged by uniting the eight million gods of the Japanese archipelago.
Strictly speaking, it was a combination of the sword sealing the myths, the shrine that sealed it, and the family that guarded it—a complete divine artifact.
‘Why the hell is such a ridiculous thing here!’
Even divine artifacts have ranks.
Japan, being full of miscellaneous gods, had many minor artifacts. I had assumed this was just one among them.
‘Not only does she collect her token, but artifacts from other countries as well.’
As the thought settled, things started to become clear.
Kuroda, wielding a weapon absent from his previous life. Hailhwan, using him as a subordinate.
They already seemed to have a network, collecting divine artifacts not just in Korea and Japan, but globally.
Perhaps the exhibition, openly demonstrating an artifact, triggered this?
‘The Japanese side must be in a panic by now.’
At that point, I began to map out the next steps in my mind.
‘I had only thought this was evidence to follow Kuroda and Hailhwan.’
But with the Kusanagi Sword, it wouldn’t be that simple.
“Should we return this sword?”
“Return it? To whom?”
“To whom, indeed.”
Sehyeon wrapped the sword in a cloth and held it.
“To someone who might be on our side.”
Kyoto, Japan.
Inside a bamboo forest, past a massive barrier, stood a five-story grand tenshukaku.
Strong walls and a moat circling like a blue ribbon.
A reconstruction of Osaka Castle from the Toyotomi era, shrouded in heavy silence.
In front of a white-covered coffin stood three men in black robes.
“Our master, Kusunagi Yashiro, devoted his life to peace and unification. He united the players of the homeland split into four clans…”
The man in the center continued the eulogy in silence.
Kusunagi Yashiro.
Once the supreme leader of Japanese players.
A descendant of the Kusunagi family, he guarded a shrine housing eight million gods and recovered the long-lost Kusanagi Sword.
He had unified the warring clans of the four territories and maintained a period of peace.
Yet he had passed away.
Representatives from three of the four clans stood before his coffin in mourning.
Silence filled the air; occasional bell and sutra sounds amplified the solemnity.
“Bloody hell.”
A curse broke the silence. People turned their heads.
A man with a short haircut and a long scar across his left face walked across the floor in baggy pants.
Despite his swaggering, delinquent stride, no one stopped him.
The middle-aged man reciting the eulogy scowled at him.
“Ken, if you’re going to make a scene at a funeral, go away.”
“Hmph! Hey, sir, I’m a clan chief too, you know.”
Ken placed his hand on his forehead, looked around, and spoke.
“By the way, what’s with these old-fashioned guys? Is this the Sengoku era? Outside, people are using smartphones and satellites, yet you all act so archaic. If it were me, I’d just…”
“SHUT UP!!”
The middle-aged man couldn’t hold back and yelled.
Ken exaggeratedly shrugged.
“Why? Everyone’s thinking the same thing, right? Aren’t you?”
“….”
He asked the gathered retainers, but no one answered.
Ken clicked his tongue.
“Come on, who here doesn’t know what’s going on?”
His playful expression suddenly hardened.
“Who doesn’t know that Grandpa Kusunagi was assassinated over losing that damn sword?”
“That’s enough! Even leniency has its limits! If you keep this up…”
“If I keep going, what?”
Ken smirked.
“You’re going to kill me like Grandpa Kusunagi?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
He ignored that and continued.
“Obviously, someone here did it. Took advantage of the chaos to grab it.”
It was true.
Everyone present knew but remained silent.
Whether anyone actually led the assassination was uncertain, but one fact was clear:
The Kusanagi Sword was gone.
Meaning Japan’s ruling seat was effectively vacant.
“With the sword gone, anyone could take it. No one has legitimacy now.”
Amid the quiet, Ken sauntered and chuckled.
“You know a war is coming, don’t you?”
“….”
“So forget all this pretense, you hypocrites!”
The crowd murmured, suspicions and plans forming.
They realized why Ken and his clan had remained hidden—they were preparing for battle.
“Crazy bastard,” muttered the middle-aged man.
An official declaration of war.
A childlike provocation, but also a clear announcement by the head of the Osaka clan.
It would be war across the Japanese archipelago, just as before Kusunagi Yashiro appeared.
Ken noticed their fear and smirked.
“Well then, I’ll be off. See you soon, gentlemen.”
He then strode off and disappeared in an instant.
“….”
Silence fell again.
The three clan leaders before the white coffin were frozen.
“Will you act? Wage war, as he said?”
A blind man, eyes covered in black cloth, spoke calmly.
“Don’t be swayed by him.”
“But isn’t it true?”
“You forgot the most important part. What actually matters…”
“What is important…?”
“The sword’s disappearance caused the chaos. Retrieve it, and it’s solved.”
The blind man smiled.
“Not so easy. Don’t even know where the stolen sword is…”
“Yesterday, it came into Japan.”
“…!”
The blind man’s mouth opened in surprise.
‘How did he know?’ seemed written on his face.
“With my ability, I can sense its general energy even if I don’t know the exact location. At least it’s on the archipelago. Who brought it, I don’t know.”
If one could obtain the sword, the game changed entirely.
The heir of “Kusanagi,” potentially the supreme ruler of Japanese players.
For Japanese, legitimacy mattered more than death.
Seizing the sword meant controlling all forces in Japan without hassle.
“Whoever brought it, good job.”
The middle-aged man smiled.
“I’ll reclaim the sword and sit atop the throne.”
“Hmph, best of luck.”
While the blind man bowed before the coffin, the middle-aged man made a call.
“Close all airports. Make it look like a Yakuza conflict. No one leaves Japan. And report immediately if anyone tries to bring in weapons.”
After the call, he smiled slyly.
…Meanwhile.
The man who had stashed the “weapon-like thing” in extra-dimensional space and calmly set foot in Japan said,
“Why’s it buzzing like this? So noisy.”
Suppressing the intense energy of the great sword, he looked around.
“This is the meeting spot… ah.”
Sehyeon quickly spotted him.
A man in a full-face helmet and a full-body motorcycle suit.
It was Chester.
