As they were moving through the corridor of the Scripture House, the stone masonry of the walls began to groan.
Sand trickled from the joints in the ceiling, and the floorboards beneath their feet tilted ever so slightly. Asahi drew his sword in a flash, catching a collapsing stone on his blade. The sheer weight of the rock traveled through the steel, sending a dull shock through his wrist as he gripped the hilt.
Once the stone had tumbled away and the dust had settled, Asahi raised the sword before his eyes.
Running through the middle of the blade was a fresh crack.
It sat right beside an older nick in the edge—a thin, diagonal line. When he brushed it with a fingernail, a faint dusting of metal flakes peeled away along the fissure. Asahi exhaled, holding the blade up to the light. The crack wasn't merely on the surface; it reached deep into the heart of the steel.
Koyoi stepped closer, peering at the state of the weapon.
"...It’s splitting."
Asahi didn't answer. He returned the blade to its scabbard. As it slid home, the mouth of the sheath gave a faint ring. It was a higher pitch than usual—proof that the steel was thinning.
Kuon placed a hand against the wall, using his artificial eye to examine the cross-section of the crumbled masonry. A pale blue light crawled over the layers of stone, illuminating the patterns carved into the surface.
"This stone... it’s the same ore used for the foundation of the Scripture House. It’s raw ore, harvested from the Deep Strata."
Kuon turned back, fixing his gaze on the sword at Asahi’s hip.
"Do you know where that sword was forged?"
Asahi leaned his back against the wall, sliding his fingers over the scabbard as if confirming the position of the blade inside.
"I received it from my master. I wasn't told its origin. But I remember the color of the ore. It was a bluish-grey; it gave a clear, ringing sound when struck."
Kuon looked back and forth between the broken wall and the sword. The light of his artificial eye narrowed into a sharp beam, tinged with the hue of analysis.
"It’s the same. This stone and your sword come from the same vein. It is the very ore that forms the foundation of this place."
A heavy silence fell. A cold wind gusted from the depths of the corridor, ruffling the hair of the three companions.
"In other words, if you return this sword to the Scripture House, it would reinforce the foundation. It could become the material needed to support this crumbling structure."
Kuon’s voice was flat. He was merely stating a fact, not offering a recommendation.
Asahi drew the sword again and gazed at the fractured blade. The light refracted along the crack, casting a double shadow of the edge against the wall. He touched the tip of the fissure with his finger, feeling the coldness of the steel against his palm.
"...If I swing it with any strength again, it’ll snap."
"It will," Kuon confirmed curtly.
Koyoi took a step forward. His grip tightened on his drawstring pouch, his voice rising with anxiety.
"But if you lose your sword, you won't be able to fight, Asahi! We don't even know what's waiting for us further in."
Asahi returned the sword to its sheath, slowly pressing down on the guard.
"A sword that cannot cut is nothing but dead weight. You swing it, it doesn't bite. You parry, it breaks. Just carrying it dulls your judgment."
"But—"
"A man running with a heavy burden is the first to sink with it."
Asahi’s voice wasn't harsh. There was no anger or resignation in it; he was measuring his sword with the dispassionate eye of a craftsman assessing his tools.
Koyoi swallowed his words. There was no hesitation in Asahi’s profile. Yet, he hadn't made his decision either. The way he looked at the blade was like the silence that precedes a final parting.
Kuon opened his ledger, tracing the structural diagrams of the Scripture House with his finger.
"There are seven damaged points in the foundation. With the ore from a single sword, we could seal at least three of them. If the structure stabilizes, it will be easier to thaw the frozen records."
"No need to rush."
Asahi placed his hand over Kuon’s to close the ledger.
"This isn't something that needs to be decided this second. It’s still usable... until it breaks."
Asahi pushed off from the wall and looked toward the end of the corridor. A cold draft brushed against their feet, and grains of sand rolled across the floor.
Koyoi stared at Asahi’s back—a back that knew the weight of that sword. He didn't know what would be left when that weight was gone. Uncertain, he clutched his pouch to his chest and followed after him.
The three shadows reflected on the corridor wall slid silently over the cracks in the masonry.
Only the shadow of the sword was slightly shorter than the rest.