Hard Carried by My Sword

Chapter 257

Because of El Cid’s big mouth, they’d ended up working far harder than necessary. Leon stared down at the Holy Sword with an exhausted expression.

Had Karen not pierced Rodlin’s defenses with her improvised technique, the fight might have dragged on for nearly an hour. The frame had been designed and built by a previous Grand Meister, and the enchantments a dragon had personally etched into it amplified each other to frightening levels.

Even with Holy Barrier and sacred spells, Elahan had only managed to pin Rodlin momentarily. If the defensive array had stayed active, even Five Star Chariot might not have dealt a fatal blow.

Its attack and defense were absurdly high, enough to compensate for its lack of agility and flexibility. It was a walking fortress, in the literal sense.

Leon gave Rodlin’s damaged frame a sidelong glance. The cracks left by Five Star Chariot looked far from fatal. Unlike Irexana, he’d never seen the schematics and couldn’t guess the internal structure, so he couldn’t say with confidence whether a single strike could have truly disabled it. One thing that was certain was that its sturdiness easily rivaled, if not surpassed, the Imperial Guardians.

“Now then, let’s take a look,” Albion said as she approached her golem.

The metal was still scorching-hot from the exchange, but dragons were creatures that could bathe in molten ore without so much as burning a scale. She casually brushed her pale fingers across Rodlin’s torso. Her pale, slender finger hissed upon contact with the hot armor, but her skin remained unmarked.

“Left arm and face plate show 28 percent structural damage. Right hind joint about 7 percent. Auto-repair will be enough for this much,” she muttered.

Rodlin blinked its eye-lights in agreement. “Estimated repair time: One hour and thirty-one minutes.”

“Even if you were shattered to pieces, you’d be fine in a day or two. The real problem is the mana conduits, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Master. With my current processing capability, I cannot identify the cause of the core-conduit leakage or a solution. Additionally, magical idle spin has damaged parts of the array. The auxiliary conduits overheated, reducing core output by 12 percent.”

In other words, Leon’s party, or more specifically, Karen’s hit, was a critical blow. Considering Rodlin’s design and function, that should have been impossible. Karen had slipped past the Exile Barrier, pierced the armor, and damaged the internal conduits.

Albion’s enchantments alone were eighth-tier, and if the core was pushed to the limit, Rodlin could even cast ninth-tier ultimate spells multiple times. Even an attack that ignored space or bypassed armor should never have been able to strike its internals.

Rodlin knew that too and asked again, “Master, please confirm that no system faults have occurred. If this flaw remains, a similar strike in the future will become a critical weakness.”

Albion considered it for a moment, then shook her head. “No. There is nothing wrong with your systems.”

“But—"

“Next time, defend using probability-interference magic. There’s no other way. That technique cannot be countered without ultimate magic.”

She brushed off Rodlin’s concerns and turned toward Leon’s party. Toward one person in particular.

Faced with a dragon’s gaze, Karen immediately ducked behind Leon. It was an assassin’s reflex. Facing a superior being head-on was the same thing as suicide, and their training ingrained that truth deeply. Albion chuckled at her fear.

“You’re handling a technique far above your level, girl,” she said to Karen.

Albion didn’t understand Pitch-Black Dance the way El-Cid did, but a transcendent could see what mortals could not. She had sensed something familiar yet foreign in Karen’s movement—something she had once seen Rodrick demonstrate effortlessly: the fluid shift between substance and illusion.

Karen’s version was crude, hardly beginner-level, but the foundation was unmistakably the same. The crossing of truth and falsehood.

“To even begin learning that requires reaching the realm of Grandmaster. To control it fully, you’d need to surpass the demi-god wall.”

“R-really?” Karen asked, surprised.

“Crossing the boundary between real and unreal is risky even for a transcendent. If you misstep, you may melt into the illusion and never return or become something that ‘never existed in the first place’.”

Leon’s eyes widened, and he whispered internally to El Cid, Seriously?

—Yep. I showed it only once or twice, but she remembers well. They say dragons never forget. I guess it’s true.

Wait, you taught Karen something that dangerous?!

—Are you insane? You can’t ‘teach’ someone to jump several realms at once. If I could, don’t you think I would have shoved you directly into complete Grand Chariot mastery and taken the Archbishop’s head off?

El Cid grumbled. —That girl’s case is a fluke. It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, yet somehow did.

The Eastern concept of sudden enlightenment fit perfectly. It meant one did not reach higher realms by gradual progression, but by an abrupt leap. It was like going from Point A straight to Z without making the stops at Point B, C, D, and so on. Luck, yes—but an unstable one.

—Still, it’s fine. The skill works so well with her shadow attribute, so she just found a shortcut. Give her some cautions and a heads-up on what she shouldn’t do. Then there shouldn’t be many side effects.

Good... that’s a relief.

By the time the two finished talking, Albion and Karen were already wrapping up their own conversation.

“This time, it worked because your opponent was compatible with your attribute. Use it on someone beyond your level, and you’ll not only be nullified, but the backlash will also be severe. Remember that.”

“Thank you for the advice,” Karen expressed her gratitude to the dragon.

Albion nodded in satisfaction, then turned back to Rodlin. “Rodlin. Store the outer frame. Leave only the core body. Until the conduits and circuit arrays recover, limit core output to under thirty percent.”

“Yes, Master.”

The moment Rodlin agreed, golden radiance burst from its entire frame—a sign of high-level magic activation. Light engulfed the chamber, and when it receded, the sight left everyone in shock.

“Huh...?” Leon rubbed his eyes, convinced he was hallucinating. He wasn’t.

“Core-body retrieval complete. Estimated repair time in subspace: twenty-one minutes, fifty-three seconds.”

Where the twenty-meter-tall golden golem had stood moments earlier, there was now... a girl. A girl who looked no older than her mid-teens, with sunflower-yellow hair and matching golden eyes. She wore a full maid outfit—frills, underskirt, even the ribbon—but for some reason, it was all made of shimmering gold.

The skin peeking out between Rodlin’s long skirt and sleeves was pale, but faint light seeped from the magic circles etched like tattoos along her limbs, wrapping her in a soft glow that flickered like fireflies. She looked almost like a fairy.

“Oh...!” Irexana approached Albion with rare, undisguised excitement. “Is this my master’s final work?”

“You recognized it?” Albion asked.

“Of course. This is the project he spent his last years researching. And this,” he said, eyes shining, “is the result.”

Leon and the others, who knew nothing of their shared history, could only blink in confusion. Unable to hold back, Leon spoke up first.

“Albion, is she...?”

“Exactly what you’re thinking. This is Rodlin’s Core-Body.”

With a flick of her finger, Albion called Rodlin over. The girl walked with the poised grace of a noble lady, completely unlike the massive golden golem that weighed tons. At barely 1.3 meters tall, she had to crane her neck to look up at Leon.

Elahan’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and disbelief, struggling to reconcile the tiny, adorable girl in front of them with the monster they had been fighting moments earlier.

“We... We fought this little girl?” Elahan asked.

“Yes,” Albion answered casually.

“This little cute thing was that giant golden...?” Elahan asked again, still in disbelief.

Albion let out a triumphant laugh.

“A golem doesn’t need to maintain its full frame at all times. The larger and heavier it is, the more wasteful it becomes. It only needs that form when necessary.”

Any modern golem researcher hearing her say this so casually would full-out faint on the spot. Rodlin was made from rare metals worth fortunes even in tiny handfuls, and the spellwork on her frame—engraved by a dragon—was the kind of magic ancient civilizations would spend decades and bankrupt kingdoms to replicate.

Albion stroked Rodlin’s golden hair and continued.

“The Core-Body summons her external combat shell using subspace magic. The ego I designed for her rearranges those parts into the optimal configuration during battle. If she were fighting outside this lair, she’d be flying with levitation and her wings, raining down seventh-tier spells.”

Leon swallowed hard and said, “So she wasn’t even using half her power.”

“And neither were you. I was caught off guard by your friend, so the fight ended too quickly, but I never meant for you to beat each other bloody. And...”

Albion stepped back, leaving Rodlin standing before Leon. Her eyes were clear like glass marbles, almost emotionless, yet filled with a vast and ancient magic. A flawless, golden work of art that breathed.

Albion added, “Rodrick, I trust this settles my debt?”

The sword hanging by Leon’s belt hummed irritably. “Yes, yes. You even gave change. You’ve actually put effort into this. How unlike you.”

“You irritate me to the very end...”

Albion clicked her tongue but seemed resigned, letting out a long sigh. That was three centuries of debt finally settled.

“Rodlin. From this moment, I transfer your ownership to the human standing before you—Leon. Update your master registration.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything, my creator, Albion.”

Despite what seemed like an immensely important command, Rodlin simply curtsied politely toward Albion without surprise, then turned to Leon. She lifted the hem of her golden skirt with both hands, slid one leg back gracefully, and bowed with perfect aristocratic etiquette.

With her eyes glowing softly, she announced, “Greetings, Master. I, Rodlin, am a golem contracted three centuries ago under a pact with the former Hero, Rodrigo el Vivar, and now transferred to you. I shall serve you with every function and the capability of my ego at my disposal.”

Leon blinked, overwhelmed by the unexpected formal tone toward him from Rodlin. Elahan and Karen stared in stupor, not immediately understanding what had just happened. That silence lasted exactly ten seconds.

“Eeeeeeeeh?!”

“Oh Goddess above...”

Leon looked down at the innocent girl who stared up at him with unwavering devotion—a golem with emotions, a maid-like appearance, and a human-like soul.

It felt unreal. He’d been born a commoner. He’d never had attendants or servants. And now a teenage-looking, self-aware golem was calling him “Master”? Leon’s mind emptied out completely as he forced a weak smile.

“I’m... I’m Leon. Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, Master Leon.”

He placed his hand gently on her head. Strangely enough, she felt warm. When he ruffled her hair, Rodlin closed her eyes in obvious contentment.

Leon felt an unexpected warmth rise in his chest and thought, Man. I’ve never been married, let alone dated anyone, but now it feels like I have a daughter.

And, as always, El-Cid ruined the moment.

—All thanks to me. You’re welcome.

Shut up! Leon shouted internally.