"Including your memories."
He looked at the golden light.
"So, Murphy, tell me—"
"Do you still dare to swing this sword?"
Murphy didn't answer.
The Crimson Longsword, covered in cracks—no! It should be called a golden Longsword now, hovered silently in the air.
The golden light was brilliant and dazzling, blanketing the entire night sky, but beyond that, there was no movement.
Seeing his silence, the smile on the Ironspine Duke's lips grew even wider.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"
"You were quite talkative just a moment ago, weren't you?"
"Something about 'whether it's futile isn't for you to decide'—"
"What about now?"
"You're starting to doubt yourself, aren't you?"
"You know it yourself. Every word I've said is true."
"So, Murphy—"
He raised his hand, pointing at the golden light.
"Do you still dare to swing this sword?"
His answer was a flash of sword light.
The golden sword light erupted from the cracked Longsword!
