Volume 1: The Fourth Holy Grail War
Chapter 7: The Sword That Chose Its Master
The seasons changed quietly.
Spring became summer.
Summer welcomed autumn.
Before anyone realized it, another year had nearly passed.
Ren was now only a few weeks away from his tenth birthday.
Like every other morning, he could be found wandering through the forest.
The fairy village had long grown accustomed to it.
Instead of worrying, the elders simply laughed.
“Ren has gone exploring again.”
“He’ll be back before sunset.”
“Probably.”
Even the younger fairies had stopped trying to follow him.
No matter how hard they searched…
They would somehow lose sight of him.
Not because Ren intentionally hid.
The forest itself seemed to guide his footsteps.
Crunch.
Dry leaves crumbled beneath his feet.
Ren looked around.
“…This place…”
He had never been here before.
At least…
Not that he could remember.
Ancient trees surrounded him from every direction.
Unlike the cheerful forests near the village…
This place was silent.
Almost unnaturally so.
Not a bird sang.
Not an insect chirped.
Only the distant rustling of leaves echoed through the woodland.
“…”
Ren instinctively slowed his pace.
His subconscious warned him.
This place was different.
After several minutes of walking…
The trees suddenly parted.
A vast clearing appeared before him.
In its center stood an enormous stone.
Half-buried within it…
Was a sword.
“…”
Ren stopped.
For some reason…
His heartbeat quickened.
The sword wasn’t particularly extravagant.
Its blade had long since become weathered by time.
The hilt bore signs of countless years beneath the open sky.
Yet despite that…
It radiated a quiet dignity.
Almost as though it had been waiting.
“…A holy sword?”
Ren murmured to himself.
No.
Not quite.
He couldn’t sense overwhelming magical power.
Instead…
It felt…
Lonely.
He slowly approached.
Step. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Step.
Step.
The closer he came…
The more the surrounding forest changed.
The breeze grew gentler.
Flowers bloomed where his feet passed.
Leaves drifted quietly through the air.
It felt…
As though nature itself had begun holding its breath.
“…”
Ren reached the stone.
His hand hovered above the hilt.
He had no intention of pulling it.
He simply wanted a closer look.
The moment his fingertips brushed against the grip—
Hum—
The blade emitted a faint silver light.
“…!”
Ren immediately withdrew his hand.
“What…”
The light vanished just as quickly.
Silence returned.
“…Did I imagine that?”
He stared at the sword for several moments.
Nothing happened.
“…Strange.”
He smiled helplessly.
“I guess you’re not meant for me.”
With that, Ren turned to leave.
The instant he took his third step—
Clang.
A metallic sound echoed behind him.
“…?”
Ren looked back.
His eyes widened.
The sword…
Had fallen from the stone.
It now rested quietly upon the grass.
“…”
“…Seriously?”
He looked around.
No one.
Nothing.
Only silence.
“…Don’t tell me…”
He sighed.
“…You actually wanted me to take you?”
The sword, naturally, gave no reply.
Yet…
The silver light gently pulsed once.
Almost like an answer.
Ren couldn’t help laughing.
“I’ve never heard of a sword chasing someone.”
He walked back and carefully picked it up.
The moment he grasped the hilt—
Warmth spread through his hand.
Not overwhelming.
Gentle.
Comforting.
As though greeting an old friend.
“I suppose we’ll be together from now on.”
Far away…
Hidden among the branches of an ancient tree…
Two elderly fairies silently observed the scene.
“…Did you see that?”
“I did.”
“The Sword of the Woodland…”
“…acknowledged him.”
One of them frowned.
“It has remained untouched for centuries.”
“Even talented warriors failed to move it.”
“And yet…”
“It abandoned its resting place of its own accord.”
The second fairy watched Ren disappear into the forest.
“…Perhaps.”
“…It was never waiting for a warrior.”
“It was waiting for him.”
As Ren walked home, he casually rested the sword on his shoulder.
It felt surprisingly light.
Almost weightless.
“…I should probably ask Elder Rowan if she knows anything about you.”
The sword gave another faint hum.
Ren smiled.
“So even you have a personality.”
“I’ll have to think of a name eventually.”
The breeze gently rustled the leaves overhead.
Far beneath the river…
The River God slowly opened her eyes.
A small smile appeared on her lips.
“So…”
“The forest has finally made its choice.”
She closed her eyes once more.
“It seems…”
“Everything is unfolding as it should.”
That evening…
The entire village fell into an uproar.
“You found that sword?”
“It chose you?!”
“No one has touched it in hundreds of years!”
Ren blinked in confusion.
“…Was it really that special?”
The elders exchanged knowing glances.
One of them looked toward the quiet sword resting beside Ren.
“The sword itself is not what matters.”
“It is what it represents.”
The old fairy smiled gently.
“In Fairy Britain…”
“There are some things that choose their own owners.”
“And they…”
“…are never wrong.”
Ren looked down at the old blade resting against the wooden wall.
For some reason…
He had a feeling this chance encounter would one day become important.
Very important.
Outside the village…
The wind carried the scent of distant flowers.
Far beyond the horizon…
The gears of destiny continued to turn.
But neither Ren…
Nor the fairies…
Knew that this ordinary-looking sword would become the first weapon of a hero whose name would one day echo across countless worlds.
End of Chapter 7