Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 107

The drake. It was an infamous high-tier dragon-type monster known for its absurd strength. Whenever one appeared, it brought devastation on such a scale that its name was etched into history books.

With a danger rating of S+, it was regarded as a bigger threat than the cyclops, which had limited range but deadly power, the Mountain Worm, whose destruction was vast but never encroached on civilization, and even than the manticore, which had superior magic but lacked physical might.

When its wings were spread, its body stretched over a hundred meters. Its scales deflected even Aura Weapons, and its weight surpassed several dozen tons. As if that wasn’t terrifying enough, it wielded a Breath attack on par with strategic-level magic, not to mention its free use of Primal Magic.

There was no obvious weak point. This drake was a creature overflowing with nothing but strengths.

And yet, right now... The mighty beast was sizzling on top of a giant stone slab, exuding a tantalizing aroma.

“Hm, it’s not cooking as easily as I thought.”

“Should we raise the temperature?”

Balkan, flipping a chunk of drake meat, shook his head and replied to the other giants.

“No, we’ll burn it. It’s still cooking, so we’ll just give it more time.”

He’d cooked monsters more than a few times, so by his standards, this was going rather smoothly. Compared to flame-resistant corpses like salamanders or the Corpse Snails that came back to life when severed, a bit of patience was nothing. Besides, grilling wasn’t their only cooking method.

As Balkan walked toward another cooking station, he called out, “How’s the frying and boiling crew coming along? Everything going well?”

The giants deep-frying pieces of the drake in a cauldron larger than a castle gate shook their heads.

“Frying’s a bust.”

“How come?”

“Not just the blood—even the fat renders into poison. Zulu, that idiot, tried a bite, and he’s still convulsing.”

“Tch.”

Balkan looked down at the twitching giant by his feet and let out a sigh. If the toxicity hadn’t burned out even after several minutes in hot oil, then even antidotes would barely help.

Titan physiology boasted extreme poison resistance. They could bathe in mercury without harm; their bloodstream would just flush it out. This drake’s fat alone had paralyzed such creatures.

“The one we hunted twenty years ago wasn’t this toxic... must vary between individuals.”

Still, not all parts were inedible. For some reason, the meat around the skull—especially near what looked like a blade wound—was nearly toxin-free.

“Well, it is what it is. There’s not much meat in the head, so fry up half and bring it to our two heroes. You guys can take a bite or two of the other half, but if you overdo it, your guts’ll end up flying out.”

“Understood!”

As the frying team responded, the boiling crew chimed in.

“The boiled meat’s coming along okay. We used water with detox agents, so the poison’s gone.”

“Won’t the antidote make it bitter?” Balkan asked.

“We added plenty of Alraune honey, Chieftain. We were aiming for a sweet flavor anyway, so it should balance out.”

“Good thinking. I’m looking forward to it.”

After patting the shoulders of the boiling crew, Balkan turned away. The food was coming along nicely, and now it was time to return to his seat and speak with the two warriors.

Drakes were monsters that even Titan warriors struggled to hunt. Their tale was the real delicacy of tonight’s feast. By the time Balkan returned, Leon and Karen were already surrounded by dozens of Titans, lost in animated storytelling.

“So the lizard goes ‘Kyaooo!’ outta nowhere, right? Then the sky just turns pitch black! Then it starts pouring, and the rain starts punching holes through the rocks, the ground, everything like bam, bam, bam!”

Karen, flushed with excitement, reenacted the battle with full-body gestures. She spoke of how massive the drake’s wings had been, how powerful its primal magic was, and how the clash between Dark Breath and the North Star Cross had looked like the sky and earth were splitting apart.

The Titans absolutely ate the story up.

“Hooo! I knew you’d pull it off, dammit!”

“Hey, human warrior! You’ve got skills!”

“Seriously, that was some badass stuff!”

They roared with approval. At least a few dozen massive hands clapped Leon on the back and shoulders. To a Titan, it was just a friendly pat, but to a human, each hit was like getting slammed with a warhammer. Leon swayed like a scarecrow in a storm, barely holding on to his smile.

G-guh...

He considered channeling Aura to lessen the impact, but he grit his teeth and endured for fear of ruining the mood. How could a pat feel stronger than a swamp troll’s punch?

Balkan’s pleased smile looked especially irritating today. Leon prayed that he would step in, but instead, the Titan chorus and Karen’s impromptu dramatization continued until the food arrived.

The first dish was steak.

“Drake belly roast!”

“Ooh! Nicely browned!”

Fitting the size of the Titans, a platter larger than a tower shield sat a chunk of meat, steaming with an appetizing aroma. Naturally, the first helping went to the two heroes.

Leon and Karen carefully picked up their knives and sliced. The meat, much softer than it had been when alive, was cut cleanly.

“You first, Mr. Hero.”

“No, no. You’re the poison expert...”

After some bickering, the two silently agreed, and each took a bite. Their eyes shot wide open, but not for the reason they had expected.

“It’s... delicious!?”

“It just melts on your tongue!”

It was a flavor unimaginable from a monster. Normally, monster meat—including blood and innards—was inedible. It reeked, was too tough to chew, and was often toxic.

The Titans, however, had lived in the mountain depths for centuries. They never gave up. Through trial and error, they perfected methods tailored to each monster species and anatomy.

“Hahaha! There’s also fried head meat and boiled leg meat, so don’t hold back!” Pleased by their reaction, Balkan laughed and raised his cup and shouted, “To the slayers of the drake! To our friends! To the warriors!”

At once, the Titans raised their mugs and shouted.

“To the warriors!”

“Cheers!”

“Cheeers!!”

With Balkan’s call, cups clashed, and every Titan reached for the feast laid out before them. Belly roast, fried head meat, boiled leg meat, as well as various test dishes were served.

Some, unfortunately, still contained trace poison. A few Titans collapsed foaming at the mouth, but luckily, thanks to their resistance, it stopped there. Had they been another species, the feast might’ve turned into a mass funeral.

“How is it? Monster meat’s not so bad, right?” Balkan asked.

Leon nodded while looking away from the Titans spasming in the background and replied, “It’s much better than I expected. Are other monsters this tasty, too?”

“Well, that depends.”

Once obsessed with monster cuisine, Balkan counted on his fingers.

“Trolls are decent, but the smell’s terrible. Ogres have too high a muscle density, so their meat is too tough. Cockatrices taste like a weird mix of chicken and snake, and their poison glands sometimes grow in the wrong spots. Eat one and you’ll have diarrhea for days.”

“What if you’re not a Titan?”

“Then you’d die on the spot, of course! Kahaha!”

Was it really something to laugh about?

Leon, his slight interest in monster cuisine now wiped out, reached for the mug before him. The sharp aroma told him it was definitely alcohol.

It had been over a year since his coming-of-age, yet he’d never properly tasted liquor. Half curiosity, half anticipation, he raised the cup to his lips, but then, with a flash, the Stigma of the Purifier activated, instantly turning the alcohol into plain water.

“Huh?”

Just to be sure, he reached for Balkan’s cup next. It wasn’t like the Titans were trying to poison him. Leon could only think of one reason.

Sure enough, it happened again. As he stared at the cup now filled with water, his eyes met Karen’s—her expression equally stunned.

Poison liquor.

Leon had tested this before. When the Stigma purified poisoned wine, it removed only the poison, leaving the alcohol.

This cup, however, had turned completely to water. That meant the liquor was too toxic to even distinguish from poison.

And the Titans were drinking it like water.

—These lunatics...

Even El-Cid sounded exasperated. Leon gave a silent nod and turned Karen’s cup into water, too.

Apparently, Titan liquor was still beyond them, both in time and biology.

***

The banquet, which had started in the early evening, lasted until the moon had tilted far across the sky. Only after the Titans—drunk on both liquor and poison—had collapsed into great hills of snoring bodies did the chaos finally settle.

According to Karen’s analysis, the liquor Leon had purified was strong enough to drop a bear with a single drop. And yet it had taken over a hundred barrels to bring this feast to an end.

“It’s finally quiet now,” Kasim said, having settled beside Leon and Karen. “Did the two of you not drink? It was a pretty good brew.”

“Well, about that...”

Leon told him the truth, and Kasim scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile. It was something he wouldn’t have known, being a Titan through and through.

El-Cid chimed in as if he’d expected it.

—Titans have innards that are incomparably stronger than humans. The liver, responsible for processing alcohol and toxins, must be the same, so ordinary booze probably doesn’t even make a dent.

So because they can’t get drunk on some average liquor, they just kept brewing it stronger and stronger until it basically became poison?

—Probably.

It was absurd. Leon fell silent, at a loss for words. Sensing this, Kasim gave a light apology and shifted the subject.

“You’ve overcome the instability in your power during the fight with the drake. The important question now is: what will you do from here?”

It was just the kind of question a Giant King would pose to a newly anointed Hero.

“From here on...?” Leon repeated.

“Yes. That’s what I would like to know.”

The moment he heard the question, Leon sank into deep thought.

The Hero. The Brave. A bearer of the role to save an entire era, a figure meant to lead the light through an age of chaos.

Looking back, the incidents like the City Swallowing in Blaine the Freedom City, or the fallen mage he defeated in Rubena were just the prologue. What awaited him from now on would be foes far more powerful and malevolent.

How was he supposed to conquer the chaos those villains would bring? It wasn’t something he could figure out in a few minutes of thinking.

“Nothing comes to mind yet...”

Leon smiled bitterly, once again reminded of his own inadequacy. Kasim looked at him with a curious expression.

It wasn’t about whether the answer was good or bad. Something wasn’t right. Then, his gaze dropped to the Holy Sword at Leon’s hip.

He asked, “Do you not know?”

“Sorry?”

“The Holy Sword should have a function to guide the path of the Hero.”

—Ah, right.

With that cue, the sword at his waist—El-Cid—began to glow. It was clear the reminder had only just jogged his memory.

“Is this...!”

Leon’s jaw dropped as the light spilling from the hilt formed an image. Karen, sitting beside him, was just as shocked.

It was a picture, elegant and beautiful in its detail. It included the contours of continents, mountains, rivers, and oceans. The most accurate map of the continent in the world now floated in midair.

“Rodrick showed me this once in his lifetime. Said it was one of the few advantages of the Holy Sword, or something,” Kasim said, glaring at the blade. “This map doesn’t just display terrain. It lets you see, in real time, the events and people that are plunging the world into chaos. How else could a Hero with only strength hope to bring order to the entire continent?”

He was right. Looking closer at the golden-hued map, Leon could see various colored markers scattered across the land. Black, red, orange, yellow, blue, green—six types in total.

Instinctively searching for his own location, Leon let out a gasp and muttered, “Black...”

A black marker was clearly placed right where he was now, in the depths of the Titan Mountains.