I Obtained Sword God Level Talent - Chapter 12

’Armand Blacksmithing? Yeah, I know it. It was about seven years ago? The whole family died from some unknown disease. Only the old man’s daughter survived. Now… she’s living in the slums, or so I heard?’
This was information I had obtained from the merchants in Roven.
Lancelot’s family was all deceased. The only silver lining was that the mother he was searching for was still alive.
“….”
Lancelot walked with a determined stride, filled with strength.
A heavy question lingered with each of his steps. Even I was having trouble understanding the situation, so it must be unbearable for Lancelot himself.
‘The Armance count family promised a huge amount of support.’
That was the condition the Armance count family had offered in exchange for formally adopting the illegitimate child.
Considering the huge sum and the fact that Lancelot had been sending money home every month, the reality of his mother living in the slums felt incredibly jarring.
“The address on the paper is here. Lancelot.”
“Hmm.”
After a long, silent walk, we finally stopped. The address on the paper didn’t point to a mansion in the central district, but to the outskirts of the slums.
‘Someone can live here?’
The scenery of the slums didn’t look livable, even as a joke. Even in broad daylight, a gloomy darkness pervaded the area, and a stale, foul smell pierced my lungs.
“Here…”
T h is w a s c opi e d f r o m k i n g m tl . o rg
Lancelot, tense with apprehension, looked at the half-collapsed house. No, could you even call that a ‘house’?
The address written on the paper… This place, where he had come searching for his mother, looked like a house, but it wasn’t. Boards that seemed to have been scavenged from a construction site were haphazardly patched together, clearly showing the harsh living conditions.
Th is w a s c o p i e d fr o m ki ng m t l. or g
Cough! Cough!
Sure enough.
A rough coughing sound came from inside the shack. Even from outside, it was evident that the person inside wasn’t in good health.
“….”
Lancelot turned his head. He was looking at me with a pleading expression, as if he had no idea what to do next, like a student seeking answers.
T h is w as co p i e d fr om k in gm t l . o r g
“It’s your turn now. I helped you find your mother, but in the end, it’s you who matters.”
T h is w a s c o p ie d f r om k i n g m tl . o r g
“…I understand.”
Inhale.
Lancelot took a deep breath and stepped forward. Standing in front of the tilted door, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, then raised his fist and knocked.
Knock, knock!
“…Cough! Who is it? Cough!”
The person inside asked in a weak voice. Lancelot, frozen stiff, stammered, his lips fumbling as he answered.
“I-I came looking for you. Mrs. Armand.”
“Cough! Cough! …For me?”
Creak!
The door opened. And the one who appeared was a middle-aged woman, so thin that her bones were visible.
“Who are you?”
Who are you? A question from a mother who had met her son after more than ten years.
Lancelot’s tightly closed lips trembled. His upright eyes wavered violently, as if he was a sinner.
Mrs. Armand, Lancelot’s mother, was so thin. Her haggard complexion, as if she hadn’t eaten or washed properly, was jarringly different from someone who had been promised a huge sum of money.
“I… I am your…”
Tremble.
Lancelot’s shoulders shook pathetically. Did his mother not remember him? Had he changed so much that she couldn’t recognize her grown-up son? Such emotions were evident in his demeanor.
“Son.”
His deep, low voice resonated in the back alley.
“Son? Son? Lancelot…?”
Mrs. Armand’s eyes widened at his words. The look in her eyes, as if she had met someone she shouldn’t have, blaming herself, was heartbreaking.
“I’ve changed a lot. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Lancelot smiled awkwardly, his voice trembling. No, he was trying to. He, who wasn’t good at acting, tried to force a smile with awkward gestures, obvious to anyone watching.
However.
“You… You shouldn’t be here. Go back, go back quickly. Go back to the count family.”
The mother, who had reunited with her son after more than ten years, didn’t welcome him with open arms. Instead, she spoke as if scolding her grown-up son.
She lowered her head, as if not wanting to show her son the poverty that stained her face, and said,
“Don’t come here, don’t even think about me. Your mother is the Countess Armance. I’m not your mother.”
“……!”
Lancelot’s body trembled violently at her words that cruelly pierced his heart.
He must’ve had expectations. He must have longed for the mother who would smile warmly at him when he returned home, covered in dust, as he had when he was a child. But… the reality was the opposite of his expectations.
Mrs. Armand’s trembling voice didn’t stop there. She shouted, as if making a grave decision,
T h i s w a s c o p i e d fr o m k i n g m t l . o r g
“Go, go quickly! Don’t ever, ever come back again!”
Slam!
And the half-open door slammed shut. Lancelot, who stood silently for a long time, turned around.
A distorted smile was on his face. I didn’t need to ask… It was a smile filled with sorrow, so obvious that I could tell he was trying to feign a cheerful appearance.
“…It’s done. I’m glad. This is enough.”
“‘Done’? This is?”
T his wa s c o p ie d fr o m k i n gm t l . o r g
It was a scene that left even me speechless. Done? What was done? Did he come all this way just for this? Was this reunion with his family, which he had longed for so much, enough?
Step, step.
T h i s w a s c o p ie d f rom k i ng mtl . or g
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going back to the inn. I’ve achieved my goal. We can prepare to return now, can’t we?”
Lancelot’s steps were heavy as he walked back the way we came. His usually strong and firm shoulders were slumped, as if reflecting his current emotions.
“….”
I watched his retreating figure and then turned my head.
The closed door remained tilted, just as it had been when we first arrived. Suddenly, I wondered what Mrs. Armand’s intentions were.
Her haggard complexion was filled with a profound, sorrowful longing. There must be a reason why she had so cruelly rejected her reunited son.
Knock, knock!
I acted immediately. If I’m curious, I’ll just ask. Of course, I didn’t expect Mrs. Armand to give me a straightforward answer, but it wasn’t in my nature to just stand by and do nothing.
Creak!
The door opened again.
Th i s w as c op i e d f r o m k i n gm t l . o rg
Had she watched Lancelot’s dejected departure through the cracks in the boards that made up the shack’s walls, holding her breath? She looked like she had aged ten more years in just a short time.
“Is there something else you need?”
Mrs. Armand spoke, her sunken eyes suggesting that she thought I was Lancelot’s friend.
“The money?”
I asked what I was curious about without beating around the bush. It was a question about where all the money that should have been in her possession had gone.
Looking at her now, there were more than a few things that raised questions. Considering the support the Armance count family had given her and the money Lancelot had been sending every month, there was no reason for her to be living in a place like this.
And what about the fact that about seven years ago, her entire family had died from an unknown illness, and Mrs. Armand, the sole survivor, was now living alone in this slum shack?
‘Something… something is wrong.’
Lancelot, who had heard those cruel words, might not be in his right mind, but I was. I was determined to unravel this strange inconsistency.
“Money? Ah! Money! I had forgotten for a moment. You were that representative. I heard you would come in the evening, so I wasn’t expecting you.”
“…?”
However, Mrs. Armand’s following answer was truly bizarre.
Crash, bang! She entered the house, creating a commotion for a while, then reappeared before me with a small pouch.
‘What is…?’
My eyes widened as I received the pouch and checked its contents.
Inside the pouch was money. A large sum, the kind that someone living in this slum shack wouldn’t be able to touch.
“Lancelot’s visit was unexpected… please tell him that. And please tell him that I wish him well this time too…”
“Huh.”
My face contorted as annoyance surged through me.
It felt like the puzzle pieces in my head had fallen into place. The clues were limited, but I wasn’t stupid enough to fail to deduce this much.
“It seems the amount is less than last time? I heard it was much more than this.”
I muttered nonchalantly.
I sifted through the pouch with dissatisfied fingers. Each time I did, the silver coins clinked cheerfully.
“Sorry, sorry. I know that holy water and potions are expensive… The young master said he would be generous with this.”
The young master?
My head tilted.
T hi s was co p i e d f r o m k i n g m tl . o r g
“By young master, do you mean someone from the Armance count family?”
“Y-Yes. Perhaps you…”
The situation was clear.
It was true that the Armance count family had adopted Lancelot.
But what happened afterward was the problem. They had been extorting large sums of money from Mrs. Armand periodically. Using her son, Lancelot, as leverage, they demanded money for potions, holy water, and other necessities she couldn’t refuse.
“G-Give it back! That money is for Lancelot!”
Swish!
Sensing that something was wrong, Mrs. Armand reached out. But I wasn’t about to be robbed of the pouch by an ordinary middle-aged woman.
“I’ll take this to Lancelot. It will be his first time receiving it.”
“Wha-What…?”
“I understand the situation. The Armance count family. They must have threatened you, demanding money and telling you not to meet Lancelot.”
“H-How did you…”
Mrs. Armand groaned with a dumbfounded expression.
There couldn’t be an easier target for the Armance count family.
Extorting money from her, who knew nothing about the world of nobles or knights, using ‘potions’ as an excuse, must have been child’s play.
Furthermore.
A mother’s unconditional love for her child had fueled the fire. A mother’s love, which often disregards her own well-being, her own reality…
“Please calm down and listen. Something is seriously wrong. There’s absolutely no reason for you to coldly reject Lancelot and live in this shaby house.”
Whoosh!
T hi s w a s c o pie d f rom k i n g m tl. o r g
With those words left unsaid, I turned around.
I intended to find Lancelot, who had returned to the inn. He needed to know the reason why his mother had rejected him.
“You… Who are you? What is your relationship with Lancelot…”
Halt!
Mrs. Armand’s bewildered voice echoed behind me as I walked away. I stopped for a moment and replied without turning my head,
“Just an acquaintance.”