Gravel needed to figure out how to deal with the troll before arriving.
"No, even if someone takes an interest in my magic, I can just say it's from the Eastern Kingdom's magic, so it should be fine to use it sparingly."
Still, Gravel had to consider the possibility that someone might spread rumors without giving him a chance to explain or make excuses. Adventurers were always talkative, after all. They loved to laugh and chatter in taverns and guilds, sharing tales of their adventures. Other adventurers listened to these stories, imagining themselves in those situations, learning, and preparing. That was their way of exchanging information.
"Then a Level 1 healing spell should be fine. I've seen other casters use similar spells before. For attacks, the sword will do."
Gently touching the long sword at his waist, Gravel resolved to use the swordsmanship learned bit by bit from Iris.
The Sword of the East End, 145 cm in total length, with a 105 cm blade and a 40 cm hilt, was a magnificent longsword. Its grip was wrapped in dragon leather, adorned with a dragon-shaped ornament at the end, and decorated with a blue cord. According to the lore of Grand World Online, it was forged by the human king who united the seven kingdoms of the eastern continent of Vuul, melting down the swords of the six vanquished kings. Gravel had once seen a stone tablet in the game that recorded how the Naga Queen stole it from the king while he was traveling to the Winter Palace in the southern part of the unified kingdom.
In the days of Grand World Online, it was the legendary sword Gravel desired most. Known among players as a mythical weapon—nearly impossible to obtain due to its extreme acquisition difficulty and the ever-changing location of the Naga Queen—it was a blade many coveted but only one could claim.
Gravel had spent over a year chasing this single sword, obsessed with everything about the Sword of the East End—its abilities, appearance, and lore—memorizing every detail. The burning determination to equip it on his character, coupled with the developer's announcement that only one such sword would exist on the server, drove Gravel to hunt the Naga Queen relentlessly, even forgoing sleep.
As memories of Grand World Online flooded back, Gravel pushed through the forest and spotted the bright light of a torch ahead.
" Looks like you need help!"
With one hand near his mouth, Gravel called out to the adventurers engaged in battle.
"Oh! A fellow adventurer in a place like this! We could really use the help. This thing's weak to fire, so if you've got an oil flask, use it to set your weapon ablaze!"
Rude, noticing Gravel's sudden appearance, grinned and shouted back.
Gravel first approached Reinhold, who seemed gravely injured. Drawing closer, Gravel extended a hand and cast a spell.
"Cura Vulnus… You should be fine now."
A small orb of light emerged from Gravel's hand, seeping into the wounds beneath Reinhold's torn armor. Confirming the healing spell's effect, Gravel drew the Sword of the East End from its scabbard. Opening the oil flask from his belt pouch, Gravel poured its contents onto the blade. Reinhond, standing nearby, noticed Gravel didn't have a torch and used his flint to ignite the oil.
"Thanks for the healing. Fire-enchanting scrolls are too expensive for us. When we get back to Froikton, I'll cover the repair costs for that sword."
Reinhold's voice, regaining its vigor, echoed from within his dented helmet.
'Now to put Iris's swordsmanship to the test.'
Lowering the flaming tip of the sword toward the ground, Gravel approached the scrag.
As the new foe drew near, the scrag lunged, extending a clawed arm toward Gravel. Its five thick, sharp claws were about to reach when Gravel's downward-pointed sword suddenly spun in a small arc, slashing down onto the back of the scrag's hand.
It was one of the sixteen sword techniques Iris had taught—a downward strike amplified by the blade's rotational force.
Gravel's sword sliced through the scrag's hand, severing three fingers, which fell to the ground with sticky blood. Shocked by the pain of losing its fingers, the scrag quickly withdrew its hand, clutching the bleeding stump with its other hand.
"Healing magic and skilled swordsmanship? You're quite the adventurer!"
Rude's excited voice rang out, contrasting with the screg's pained screams.
'Maybe magic isn't even needed? Is this troll-like monster weaker than expected?'
Or was it the exceptional performance of the Sword of the East End? Or perhaps, despite being a caster-class character in Grand World Online, the gradual increases in strength and agility stats as levels rose were carrying over to this world? As Gravel paused to think, Rude and Reinhold struck at the scrag's legs and arms.
Blood from the wounds mixed with the burning oil, creating sooty smoke and the unpleasant stench of burning flesh that spread around them. However, the screg, realizing that fire was the source of this unfamiliar pain, covered the burning wounds with its hands to smother the flames.
"This thing's smarter than it looks! Unlike before, it's prioritizing putting out the fires on its body!"
Reinhold, catching his breath, called out to his comrades and Gravel.
"Then we can't give it time to do that!"
Barild's mace struck the scrag's shoulder as it turned its attention away from him. The scrag, reacting to the dull pain, instinctively swung its arm. Caught off guard by the monster's swift counterattack, Barild was sent flying, crashing into the ground and rolling across it.
Barild let out a pained groan and briefly lay still, seemingly unconscious, but he soon staggered to his feet, gripping his mace and assuming a fighting stance.
"Barild? You okay? That was a heavy hit!"
"You can't pass out already!"
"Hah! I'm far from done! I may not have mana left for spells, but I'm still more useful than Reinhold!"
Barild responded to Rude's joking attempt to lighten the mood.
"Haha, I heard that, Barild!"
As Rude, Reinhold, and Barild steeled themselves to continue the fight, Gravel maintained distance from the scrag, keeping it at bay. But then, as if struck by an idea, Gravel began to move slowly toward the scrag, closing the gap from its front.
"(This fight's dragging on too long.) I'm going to use poison. That should stop its regeneration."
After announcing this to the others, Gravel sheathed the Sword of the East End.
Nashram. The Blade of the Avenger.
One of the abilities of the Sword of the East End—the Blade of Nashram. In the lore, Nashram was the king of the desert kingdom of Nusa. To ascend to the throne, he killed countless people, vassals, and even his own siblings. Having slain all those he held grudges against, he earned the title of "Avenger." Thus, he chose the scorpion, a creature that could sting even when crushed underfoot, as his royal emblem.
It was said Nashram admired the scorpion's ability to strike with its venomous tail even as its head and body were crushed. His own end came as he faced enemies storming his throne room. Drinking the poison he always kept by his side to coat his blade, he fought, spraying his poisoned blood onto his foes. Those touched by Nashram's blood saw their flesh rot, their blood flow backward, and their wounds bleed uncontrollably.
Nashram's final moment came as he sat on his scorpion-emblazoned throne, plunging his own sword into himself.
As Gravel called Nashram's name and drew the sword, the Sword of the East End had transformed. No longer a straight longsword, it was now a gently curved saber, its blood groove etched with countless scorpion emblems. Imbued with Nashram's power, the blade shimmered with a dark aura of deep purple and rich green, swirling around it.
"I'll draw its attacks. The rest of you, strike when it leaves an opening."
"Got it!" "Yes!" "Alright!"
Rude, Reinhold, and Barild responded, positioning themselves on the scrag's opposite side and flanks. The scrag, scanning the scattered enemies with its large, rolling eyes, moved to attack. Crouching with its left arm and legs supporting its body, it swung its right arm toward Rude.
As Rude narrowly dodged, the scrag shifted targets, sweeping its arm across the ground toward Gravel.
'Was this how Iris taught the Pols maneuver…?'
Mentally reciting Iris's teachings, Gravel leaped into the air, dodging the scrag's palm, and brought the sword down. Following with an upward slash, Gravel's two swift strikes severed the scrag's elongated arm, which fell to the ground.
The scrag's screams and roars of agony echoed. Clutching its shoulder where the arm had been, it writhed and rolled on the ground as the adventurers' attacks continued.
"Haha! It's working! The poison's taking effect—its other wounds aren't stopping bleeding!"
As the unrelenting pain from its wounds persisted, the scrag began thrashing wildly, attacking everything around it. But the more it moved, the faster Nashram's poison spread through its body. Like threads cutting into its flesh, the poison tightened, as if Nashram's sharp blades danced within, tormenting its entire being.
It slashed with its claws, swung its arms, kicked with its legs, and even extended its neck to bite. The scrag's attacks were relentless, but Nashram's poison slowed its movements. Blood vessels in its eyes burst, blood streamed down, and its screams were now mixed with frothy gurgles. The slow death brought by Nashram was closing in.
"Phew. Looks like we're finally seeing the end."
"Yes, but we can't let our guard down yet."
Just as the adventurers and Gravel prepared to press the attack, the scrag let out a faint, strained whimper from its throat and collapsed.
"Whew. That was close… really close."
Reinhold tossed his dented helmet aside and collapsed to the ground, his legs giving out.
"Lighting it with lamp oil wasn't enough."
"Exactly. If it weren't for you, we'd have been the ones done for. Adventurer! What's your name?"
Reinhold glanced at the fallen scrag before turning to Gravel.
"Reinhold~ You're supposed to introduce yourself first before asking someone's name."
"Ah! My apologies for the rudeness. I'm Reinhold. This is Rude, and that furry guy over there is Barild."
Reinhold pointed to his companions as he introduced them.
"I'm Gravel. I was heading back to Froikton when I saw the torchlight and came over."
"Thanks to you, we're alive, Gravel. But that sword—it changed appearance, didn't it? Is it a magic sword? Or was that your magic?"
Rude crouched in front of Gravel's scabbard, staring intently at the Sword of the East End, now manifesting Nashram's blade in Gravel's hand.
"Yes, it's a family heirloom. The change in appearance was my magic."
"Ha! My sharp eyes are never wrong."
"If only you'd shown that focus against the scrag."
Losing interest in Gravel's vague explanation, Rude stood up and walked toward the fallen scrag.
"What's the proof of subjugation? Claws? Teeth?"
"Both."
"Then let's wrap this up and head back. Ugh… the smell… this thing could've bathed."
With that, the group collected the scrag's claws and teeth and returned to Froikton. Back in the city, Rude, Barild, Reinhold, and Gravel gathered at a tavern to celebrate their survival and the successful completion of the quest.
Despite the late hour, Froikton's tavern was packed with adventurers. Having returned from their own quests, they reveled in their triumphs, clinking glasses and sharing stories, spending the end of the day together.