Molon’s axe.4

Three hundred years ago, Molon had never once changed the axe that he used in all the time that Hamel had known him. He had had that axe with him since he first left his tribe. Even before that, Molon had held that axe when he first grew into an official warrior of his tribe.6

Even though that axe had held a lot of meaning for him, Molon hadn’t actually given his beloved weapon a name.0

But that was just like Molon.0

“You’re talking about your old axe?” Eugene snorted as he put away the Holy Sword.0

Even though it had withstood such force, the blade of the Holy Sword was perfectly fine. As the greatest holy relic of the Church of Light, according to their legends, the sword had been personally forged by the Incarnation of Light, so the sword would never break so long as faith in the Light remained.0

“But I’ve seen you using a different axe. Where did you put the axe you used last time?” Eugene asked.0

He was talking about the axe Molon had used to kill the Nur. The same axe that he had thrown at Raimira.4

That hadn’t been the same axe as the one that Molon had used in the distant past. Eugene didn’t think there was anything strange about that. Molon had always wielded that particular beloved axe in an extremely violent fashion, so after three hundred years had passed, that axe should have already become worn out and broken.0

“I don’t remember exactly when, but I should have buried it somewhere in this dimension,” Molon revealed as he took a step back, clenching and unclenching his numb hands.0

Confused by this answer, Eugene tilted his head to the side and asked, “Why bury it?”0

“Because I didn’t want it to get dirty,” Molon replied.14

Eugene still couldn’t understand Molon’s response. Lowering the Holy Sword, Eugen blinked in confusion as Molon let out a chuckle.1

“Hamel,” Molon explained once he had finished laughing. “That axe… it has done a lot for...0