Vol 1 Chapter 1: Becoming a Member of the Hero’s Party as a Sword Saint (Great Labyrinth Arc)

“The adventurer Kaim Ilation is hereby recognized as a Sword Saint and a member of the Hero’s Party!”

When the king’s voice echoed throughout the cathedral in the royal castle, I was officially acknowledged as a member of the Hero’s Party.

At just eighteen, I had been nothing more than a lowly, rural adventurer. Yet, by sheer coincidence, I happened to acquire the Holy Sword Asterion, which granted me the title of Sword Saint.

In the capital, while being welcomed by comrades nearly the same age as the king, I straightened up, fully aware of the responsibility that came with my new title. I swore to fight for humanity as a Sword Saint—a promise I would never forget.

It was all for the sake of defeating the Demon King, the leader of the demons and humanity’s enemy.

As I, alongside the hero Sieg, received farewell cheers from the people of the capital, we found ourselves facing the Grimoire Great Labyrinth, a dungeon rumored to stretch down a hundred floors. I thought, This is my chance to really make a name for myself. I’ll overcome any obstacle!

But then, reality set in.

“Kaim, I’m sorry, but you handle the golem itself. I’ll distract the lesser minions.”

“Huh? Oh… O-okay!”

“Golems have high resistance to slashing attacks. Be careful.”

With that, I was saddled with the task of taking on a high-level golem—a creature notoriously difficult to fight with a sword.

Though I’m called a Sword Saint, the truth is I can only use magic related to my sword.

Still, Asterion grants its wielder an overwhelming boost in physical prowess, which meant that the support mage fighting alongside Sieg wasn’t needed to back me up.

Then—

“Enchant! [Iron Mass Blade]!”

I chanted, and soon iron imbued with magical power enveloped Asterion. Gradually, it transformed into a massive lump of iron—resembling a crushing maul—and I charged, hefting it on my shoulder straight toward the golem.

“Hup!”

Against a golem, it was far more effective to deliver a crushing blow with the [Iron Mass Blade] than to try slicing it.

Naturally, the weapon became exceedingly heavy, slowing my movements. Ideally, some backup would have distracted the golem, but since I had to handle it alone, I had no choice.

I managed to close in on the towering behemoth, bashing its massive frame while dodging its falling stone fist.

When an opening appeared, I swung the iron-mass Asterion downward, shattering one of its arm joints, and then sprinted upward.

Summoning all my strength, I leaped into the air and, combining the force of my jump with the fall, drove Asterion into the golem’s head. The red gleam in its eyes faded, and it collapsed right there.

This kind of battle was nothing new to me.

But ever since stepping into the Grimoire Great Labyrinth, it seems I’m always stuck with the tough opponents.

And to add insult to injury, even after a fight, the healing specialist always starts by patching up Sieg—who barely has a scratch—while I get off with a “we need to conserve magic” comment and only the bare minimum recovery.

It really drives me crazy.

With a sigh, I slung Asterion over my shoulder as Sieg approached.

“As expected of a Sword Saint—defeating a golem with just a sword!”

“Ah, no, it’s not like I’m amazing; it’s more that Asterion is, in a sense, incredible…”

I normally pride myself on my rather sharp tongue, but when it comes to speaking with Sieg—the one who became a hero through the ritual of prophecy—I find myself at a loss for words.

Unaware of my internal struggle, Sieg narrowed his sapphire eyes and stared intently at Asterion.

—Was it just my imagination? For a moment, a shadow seemed to cross his handsome, gentle face.

“I thought it was a holy sword, but even I have never heard of one called Asterion. Where on earth did you get it?”

“Well… you see, there’s a lot of history with ‘this thing.'”

As I said “this thing,” I patted the flat of the sword with my fingertips, half grateful and fully resolved never to let anyone else have it.

Though I managed to wield it effectively—more by accident than skill—and it certainly helped me, Asterion has given me more than its fair share of trouble.

Just as I began to reminisce about the day I first met Asterion, Sieg extended his hand.

“How about it? Let me give it a swing once. I want to show you, with my own body as proof, how it differs from the holy swords preserved in the capital.”

Before Sieg could finish, a voice burst out from deep within me, cutting him off.

“N-no way!!”

The very thought of “handing over Asterion to a complete stranger” flashed through my mind, and I ended up shouting louder than I intended.

Sieg, looking utterly flabbergasted, stepped back—something he rarely does. The female mages surrounding him did the same.

“Ah… s-sorry. It’s just that this thing is like my partner. You see, that’s what it means to be a Sword Saint. I have a real attachment to my own sword…”

I stuttered, trying to break the icy tension, but Sieg clearly wasn’t pleased.

Then, with a resigned sigh, he said in a steady, encouraging tone, “In that case, let your partner pave the way.”

I feared I had angered him, but as expected of a hero, his support pushed me forward. I gripped the hilt of Asterion even tighter.

But this thing—no matter how heroic someone might be—will never be handed over to anyone.