The Villainous Noble Regressed With The Villain System
Chapter 48: The Irregularities [2]

Chapter 48: The Irregularities [2]

Dulhard had been surprisingly loyal, for a thug with twitchy hands and a tendency to lie when convenient.

Ever since I saw where his family lived—wife and two kids tucked away in a leaking corner house by the southern merchant slums—he’d been much more cooperative. Fear is a good leash. A predictable one. Still, he wasn’t without use. When I needed someone to help me cross the illegal gate and trek into monster-infested territory, he was the first and only name on the list.

There was a crooked little message house near the wall. A bunch of sketchy messengers operated there, willing to deliver anything to anyone for the right price. I passed a silver coin, wrote down my orders, and left.

"Meet me by the mule track at dawn. Bring the cart. And guts."

The next morning, as the fog still slept over the trees, Dulhard arrived. His cart creaked like it might collapse under the weight of its own anxiety, and the man driving it looked only marginally better.

"I got your... thing," he said, avoiding eye contact. "What sort of mess are you dragging me into this time, Lord Valen?"

"An easy one," I replied with a smile that wasn’t a smile. "Unless you scream. Then it becomes harder. For you."

He muttered something inaudible about "nobles and their weird hobbies," but nodded and hopped down from the cart.

I didn’t trust him. But he feared me, and that was better than trust.

---

We started our journey through the forest, traveling light. The sun peeked through the canopy in patches, flickering like the gods were blinking too much.

I handed him a bead—a small brown pellet made from dried nightshade root and raven feather ash. "Chew it."

He eyed it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Suppresses your mana signature. Keeps magical beasts from sniffing you out."

He hesitated. "What if it’s poison?"

"Then I’d have chewed mine first. Which I already did." I opened my mouth to show the half-dissolved black slush on my tongue.

Reluctantly, he popped it in. He gagged.

"Tastes like—like burnt socks!"

"You’ve eaten burnt socks before?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He turned red. "You don’t grow up in the gutters with options, alright?!"

We moved quickly, following a lesser-known route I’d memorized from an old bestiary map in the academy library. It curved around the Nightstalker Caves and skirted Whisper Gorge, where the air currents were too wild for flying beasts to comfortably hover. Safer, relatively speaking.

As we hiked up a slope and reached a clearing, Dulhard finally broke the silence.

"So... this sword. It’s real? Magic sword? Self-fixing?"

I pulled the scroll from my pack and handed it to him. "The Unbroken Sword of Ceaser. Looks broken until the rightful wielder touches it. Then it reforges itself."

He squinted at the parchment. "Says here the guy who used it once cut a troll king in half."

"Yep."

He looked at me. "And you think you’re the rightful wielder?"

"I have good odds," I said calmly.

He blinked. "Right. Yeah. Because if not, the sword just...doesn’t work?"

"Worse. It might explode."

His face turned pale. "I... I have a family, y’know."

"I’ve seen them," I said casually. "Lovely kids."

He didn’t speak for another hour after that.

By midday, we reached the Whisper Gorge. The wind roared through the cliffs like a beast that couldn’t find its dinner. The stone bridge was thin and cracked.

"I’m not walking on that," Dulhard said, clutching the mule’s reins like a lifeline.

"We’re going below," I said, pointing to a narrow path that spiraled down and around the gorge’s edge. The mule hesitated, sniffing the edge.

"Smart mule," Dulhard muttered. "We should follow her lead."

"We did. She’s walking."

"...Damn."

The path was tight, but we made it through without incident. Occasionally, we’d hear a distant growl or see movement in the underbrush, but nothing approached. The suppression beads worked. My mana felt muffled, like trying to shout underwater. Uncomfortable, but necessary.

Another hour later, we reached the Crescent Grove.

And there it was—the Wolf’s Altar. A large, moss-covered stone slab with carvings of howling beasts across its surface. In the center, buried into the stone like Excalibur, was the sword.

It looked like a ruined relic. Cracked blade. Missing pieces. Ancient rust along the guard.

"That’s the legendary sword?" Dulhard whispered. "Looks like a garden tool someone forgot in the rain."

I ignored him. I stepped forward and knelt. From my pack, I drew out the offering: half a silver coin and a small bottle of mead. I placed both at the altar.

"Test of honor," I murmured.

The carvings on the altar shimmered. A hum filled the air. The sword began to glow softly—faint, like moonlight on steel.

I stepped back instinctively.

Then something strange happened.

The light from the blade spread outward—not just a glow, but a radiant pulse, spiraling into the sky like a reverse waterfall. The ground beneath the altar cracked slightly, not with destruction, but with awakening.

Suddenly, a deep, resonant voice echoed around us.

> "Who seeks the blade of Ceaser, child of war and rewritten fate?"

Dulhard stumbled back, nearly tripping over the mule. "I didn’t do anything! I’m just here for moral support!"

I stepped forward, eyes fixed on the altar. "I do."

> "Then face the Trial of the Three Truths."

Three symbols appeared in the air, glowing golden: a lotus, a broken scale, and a burning eye. The wind stilled. Even the insects stopped buzzing. It felt... sacred. Like stepping into a realm where stories were alive and watching.

"What is this?!" Dulhard hissed from behind me. "I thought you said you read everything about this sword!"

"I read the story," I murmured. "Not the mythology behind the story."

The voice returned—calm, ancient, neither male nor female.

> "The Unbroken Sword is not a weapon of destruction. It is a weapon of judgment, once wielded by Ceaser, who turned against his own king to save the innocent. Those who seek it must be judged first by their past, their truth, and their intent."

A circle of light surrounded me. The forest melted away into silver fog. I could still hear Dulhard faintly yelling something about "going home and becoming a cabbage farmer," but his voice drifted, distant.

I was alone now.

The Trial had begun.

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Author’s Note :

Please comment down your thoughts.

Next Chapter - The Lotus of Truth

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