Killed by the Love I Believed In, I Shatter Everything with a Greatsword - Vow at the Bottom of the Cliff

The cold sensation of stone woke Allen. No, saying he "woke up" isn't quite right. His consciousness was fragmented, and he didn't even know where he was. All he knew was that his entire body ached. The pain in his side was especially severe. Every breath brought a sensation like his bones were grinding together. (Where… am I?) When he tried to think, a fog settled over his mind, leaving him dazed. Allen realized someone was carrying him. He couldn't even lift his head. His arms dangled limply, his fingertips brushing against the cold air. It was mountain air. He smelled grass and damp earth. The one carrying him was Galt Becken. His silent stride was as precise as a machine. Dawn was beginning to break. Allen's blurred vision caught the sky shifting to gray from the east. The cries of birds, the sound of the wind—they all felt distant. How long had they walked? Eventually, Galt stopped. Galt dropped Allen to the ground without ceremony. He landed on his back. The impact shot through his broken ribs, and Allen curled up, unable even to cry out. He lifted his head. They were at the top of a cliff. A desolate, rocky area that abruptly, cleanly ended. There was nothing beyond. Only a thick gray fog hung in the air, obscuring the bottom. This was Calm's Drop. A sheer cliff on the outskirts of the royal capital, where criminals were once said to be executed. Eighty meters high. A fall from here meant almost certain death. Galt said nothing. He simply looked down at Allen with his murky brown eyes. There wasn't a shred of emotion in them. It was like looking at a pebble on the side of the road. "…It's a job." Galt spoke curtly. That was all. No explanation, no excuses, nothing. Galt grabbed Allen by the chest and pulled him to his feet. Allen's legs trembled violently; standing was a struggle. He was made to stand at the edge of the cliff. At his feet, pebbles trickled down. No sound reached him. The drop was simply too deep. (Is this… where it ends?) Lilia's face surfaced in Allen's mind. Her platinum blonde curls. Her emerald green eyes. Her gentle smile. And then, that cold voice. *"The nuisance is gone."* A sharp pain lanced through his chest. (Lilia… you…) Galt's hand reached out. It was a large, rugged hand. That hand gave Allen's chest a light push. —Just a light one. But that was all it took. Allen's body was thrown from the cliff like a piece of luggage. The wind roared in his ears. His vision was completely swallowed by the gray fog. Falling. Falling. Falling. A sensation of his body floating. Time felt strangely slow. His little sister's smiling face came to mind. His father's and mother's faces, too. And Lilia's face as well. (Not yet… I can't… end here…) That thought screamed from the depths of his consciousness. How far had he fallen? The next instant— SPLAAAAASH!! A violent sensation of water slammed into his entire body. He crashed onto the river's surface back-first, his vision going pure white. Freezing water rushed into his mouth. He couldn't breathe. He had no idea what was happening underwater. Caught in the current, his body slammed against rocks. He was tumbled roughly along the riverbed. His consciousness quietly faded away. —— Cold. So very cold. Allen woke again. Half his face was submerged in water. The river's flow was gentle, and he seemed to have been washed up in a shallow spot. He tried to move. "…Ngh." A searing pain shot through his left side. His broken ribs. His right arm moved, but he could barely put any strength into his left. Even so, Allen grabbed the mud of the riverbank with his right hand. Cold, wet mud. He dug his fingers in. He dragged himself forward, inch by inch. (I'm… still…) His breathing was ragged. His heart pounded furiously. The pain and cold were so intense he felt like crying. But no. What burned in his chest wasn't sorrow. It was rage. A pitch-black, searing hatred. Lilia. Galt. A freezing fury towards those who had taken his family from him. (I can't die yet. I absolutely refuse to die.) That thought alone kept Allen moving. He didn't know how long it took him to reach the bank a few meters away. When he finally crawled up into the grassy shore, his entire body was a mess of mud and blood. He collapsed onto his back. He could see the sky. The sheer cliff towered high above. The morning sun illuminated its top, while the valley floor where Allen lay was still dim. This was the Valley of Death. No one came here. No one would save him. "…Heh." A laugh bubbled up from within him. It was unbelievable. To survive a fall from that height. But this was no time for laughing. Allen tried to stand. Intense pain shot through him. He couldn't stand. Left with no choice, he began to crawl. He didn't even know where he was heading. But if he stayed by the river, he would freeze to death when night came. He had to find somewhere to shelter from the elements. A small valley spread out beneath the cliff. Surrounded by high cliffs, it was dim. Moss grew thickly, and old tree roots lay exposed. That's when it happened. He suddenly noticed a small fissure in the cliff wall. A cave. The entrance was so narrow an adult could barely squeeze through. Allen dragged his injured body and tumbled inside. The interior was surprisingly spacious. The air was chilly and musty. Faint light from outside filtered in, dimly illuminating the shape of the walls. Allen collapsed onto the floor. He couldn't move any more. Just like that, he lost consciousness. —— How long had he slept? When he awoke, the cave was faintly lit by the daylight. His body still ached, but he could move a little now. Allen slowly sat up and looked around the cave. And then, he found it. The wall. Something was carved into the wall at the back of the cave. It was a large stone monument. Its surface was polished smooth and flat, densely packed with engraved characters. The script was ancient, and the shapes were all unfamiliar. "…What is this?" Allen approached the wall. He had studied ancient scripts a little at the Forging Academy. This might be one of them. Allen touched the wall. The cold feel of stone. He traced the grooves of the carved characters with his finger. (Can I read it?) He strained his eyes, deciphering character by character. —*Thought, that is, the power of the heart*— —*Give form to the formless*— —*One's emotions, one's will, shall become a blade*— "…Idea Forging." The words slipped from Allen's lips. The monument stated this: A power entirely different from the forging magic of this world. It required no furnace, no catalyst Lenz stone. A method of creating a weapon using only the power of one's own heart. That was Idea Forging. (That time—) Allen remembered. The moment he realized Lilia had betrayed him, a jet-black greatsword had appeared in his hand for an instant. That moment when his anger had reached its peak. (I see. So that was my rage given form.) Allen spent days continuing to decipher the monument's text. He tried to understand its meaning. He drew water from the river. He staved off hunger by eating moss and insects growing on the rocks. And then, Allen understood. He had to master this power. Without it, he couldn't stand a chance against Lilia. —— The days that followed were hell. Once his wounds healed, Allen immediately began training. He stood before the monument and held out his hand. He focused his mind. He envisioned the shape of a sword. "…Come forth." A black haze flickered in his palm. But it wouldn't take form. The haze vanished immediately, and a sharp pain lanced through Allen's head. Another failure. He repeated it, over and over. During the day, he trained his body under a waterfall. He climbed the cliffs with his bare hands, regaining his physical freedom. At night, he sat before the monument, reread the text, and trained his concentration. Gather his thoughts into a single point. Transform his emotions into the shape of a weapon. "…Come forth." No good. The haze vanished again. His head felt like it was splitting open. His nose started bleeding. Even so, he didn't stop. (If I was going to give up, I should have died at the bottom of that river back then.) Several seasons cycled past. One day, months later, Allen spotted a human figure wandering the valley. It was a young woman. She looked like a merchant, carrying a large pack on her back. She was limping, walking with a pained grimace. Apparently, she had lost her way and fallen into the valley. Allen hesitated for a moment. He hadn't intended to meet anyone. But he couldn't just leave her. Silently, he approached the woman and crouched down in front of her. "Huh…?" He looked at her injured ankle. It was sprained. Allen chewed up some mountain herbs he had with him and applied them to her ankle. He wrapped it with a rag as a makeshift bandage. "Th-thank you! You are…?" Allen didn't answer. He helped her stand and guided her towards the valley's exit. He didn't speak a single word the entire time. When the valley's exit came into view, Allen stopped. "W-wait! Your name—" When she turned around, only the mist hung in the air. Allen's figure had already vanished back into the depths of the valley. —— Two years passed since then. Allen stood before the rock face of the ravine. He held his hand out. "—Come forth." He commanded it quietly, curtly. In an instant, black light gathered in his palm. It transformed in a flash, becoming a single greatsword. A jet-black blade. It gleamed darkly, seeming to absorb the surrounding light. The blade was over a meter long. Its weight felt solid and heavy in his hand. It no longer vanished into a haze. Allen gripped the greatsword with both hands. And then, towards the rock wall before him— He swung it down. SHUNK!! A heavy sound echoed through the valley. The rock wall split vertically. A large crack ran through it, and stones crumbled and fell away. "…I did it." Allen stared at his own hands. Without being swept away by emotion, by his will alone, he had controlled Idea Forging. Power resided in these hands. Power for revenge. Allen stood before the monument. A single line of warning was carved in small script at the very end. —*This power always demands a price*— He could now understand those words he had once ignored. But he didn't care. "…It doesn't matter." Allen's voice was cold, devoid of any emotion. Whatever the price, he didn't care. He lived for revenge. There was no other meaning. Allen gave a bow to the monument. A gesture of respect for the power he had gained here. He left the cave. The air of the valley was cold and clear. The sky was blue, and he could see clearly all the way to the top of the cliff he had fallen from two years ago. A distinct scar from that time remained on his left cheek. His hair was overgrown and shaggy. His eyes had lost their once-pure sparkle, now holding only a cold, gray light. Allen began his descent down the mountain. His destination—the royal capital, Legrand. He recalled Lilia's face, Galt's expressionless eyes, and the sensation of being thrown from the cliff, one after another. None of it stopped his steps; rather, it all became fuel that accelerated them. He was different from two years ago. Now, he had power. Only the footsteps of an avenger echoed along the quiet mountain path.

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Episode 3

Name: Killed by the Love I Believed In, I Shatter Everything with a Greatsword
Author: Novelia

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