The Power to Sever the Root

Kaelen cradled his wife and daughter’s corpsesand knelt in the ruins for three days and nights.

He asked fellow believers,he questioned the village priest:

“If the Creator God made kind humanity…why did He also create the savage dragon race?”

“Why watch as living beings are slaughtered…and remain silent?”

The priest fell quiet—speechless for a long time.

The villagers called him mad.

Some clapped his shoulder and said,

“There is no god. It’s just a lie the Church invented.”

“If gods truly existed,how could they watch and do nothing?”

But Kaelen refused to give up.

He still believed the divine was real.

He sold his few possessions for scraps of grain,took a branch as a walking stick,and set off toward the Sacred Mountain—the legendary place where one could see the Creator God.

The Sacred Mountain lay ten thousand miles away—a journey through deserts, glaciers,and lands teeming with beasts and dragons.

And the mountain itself?

Ten thousand meters high—a chasm even birds could not cross.

Kaelen walked for years.

When his shoes wore through, he walked barefoot on ice.

When his food ran out, he chewed bark and wild berries.

When wolves came, he plunged into freezing rivers,shivering until they left.

By the time he reached the mountain’s foot,his legs were blackened with frostbite and rot.

He could only crawl forward on his hands—his fingertips raw, bloody, peeled to the bone.

He looked up—but couldn’t even see the mountain’s base, let alone its sky-piercing peak.

This was the closest place in all of Cagil Continent to the heavens.

Legend said only those who reached the summitearned the right to question the gods.

For the first time, despair flickered in Kaelen’s eyes.

He’d endured every trial—but this mountain offered no hope.

Yet… he did not stop.

Even if I die… I will die climbing this mountain.

I will die… knowing the gods are watching.

So he crawled—

hand over hand—

ascending over a thousand meters,his willpower inhuman in its resolve.

But…

he still fell.

Human flesh has limits.

No matter how unwilling,his body succumbed—slowly buried under snow and ice,consciousness fading into darkness.

Just as he was about to freeze to death,the Sacred Mountain’s guardian appeared—a snow-white bear, vast as a hill.

It nudged his cheek with its nose,sensing the unbroken flame of his conviction.

Then it lowered its body,let Kaelen cling to its back,and carried him through blizzards and bottomless chasms,nourishing him with its own warmth and blood.

At last—they reached the summit.

But there was no golden palace, no throne of light.

Only infinite void.

Stars hung within reach.

Time lost all meaning.

And there—in the emptiness—Kaelen saw the Creator God.

The divine form was never fixed:sometimes an ancient elder,sometimes a crying infant,sometimes a serene woman,sometimes a radiant youth—or simply a blazing column of pure light.

Kaelen, clinging to the sacred beast,gathered all the rage, doubt, and last flicker of hopehe’d carried through his journey—and let out a blood-choked cry:

“O God…

if You created kind humanity…

why did You also create the cruel dragon race?”

No one knows exactly how the Creator answered.

The Church’s ancient texts only record the final words:

“I pity your struggle.
So I grant you the power to sever the root.”

That “power to sever the root”was the Sword in the Stone—bestowed upon Kaelen by the Creator.

Legend says:any Dragon King slain by this bladewill be utterly annihilated—body and soul erased from existence, forever.

“This… is the legend of the Sword in the Stone.”

Kristine gently closed the tome—but her voice did not falter.

“Though this tale is known across Cassel Continent,even the Church has long doubted its truth—dismissing it as the fevered dream of a dying man.”

“Until…”

She paused—then pointed to the bronze sword before Empress Elizabeth.

“A few years ago, the Church found it.”

The room stilled.

Every breath slowed.

All eyes locked onto the unassuming blade.

“On a certain night, Pope Sareth performed the Heavenly Oracle Art,seeking a glimpse of fate—when he suddenly sensed a call from the Empire’s northern wastes.”

“After a long search, the faithful discovereda ruined chapel deep in the mountains.

In its basement… they found a bronze sword—embedded in stone.”

“Beside it lay a memoir.”

“The author called himself Kaelen—detailing his life, his pilgrimage…and the true nature of this sword.”

“Matching the text to the legend,the Church confirmed:this was indeed the Sword in the Stone.”

“The blade matched the description exactly—so perfectly that even the Pope could not fathomwhat power it truly held.”

“He only said: ‘This is not a power of man… nor of dragon.’”

“The memoir explains further,” Kristine continued.

“Kaelen wrote:‘This is a Law Weapon—the only means to kill a Dragon King.’

‘The Eleven Dragon Kings cannot be slain—only sealed—because they have fused with the World’s Laws themselves.

Like water—you may stir it, boil it, freeze it—but you cannot truly destroy water.

As long as a single drop remains, the Dragon King can regenerate.

But the Law Weapon… severs that bond.

It cuts the King from the Law—and erases them from existence.’

‘Yet the power granted by the Creator… is not for ordinary hands.

Even I, who stood before God… could not draw this sword.’

‘Only the one chosen by the divine may wield it.’

‘And so far… only Her Majesty has lifted it.’”

At this, Kristine turned to Empress Elizabeth.

All gazes followed.

They all knew:when the Church revealed the sword to the Empire,the entire realm trembled with excitement.

Elites from every walk of life came to try—all failed.

Only Empress Elizabeth succeeded—the sole person in the Empire who could even lift the blade.

That was why she had taken personal command of this expedition—to slay Jörmungandr herself.

If she succeeded…humanity would never fear dragons again—not even a Dragon King who broke its seal!

Duke Lambert’s eyelid twitched.

His snowy brows knotted tightly.

He turned to the Empress and bowed deeply.

“Your Majesty…while this legend is certainly… colorful…and the sword undeniably unique…legends are not proof.”

“Everything we know about this bladecomes solely from myth and that self-penned memoir.

There is no evidence this sword can truly slay Jörmungandr.”