F-ranker Sword Saint: My Soulbound Sword is Secretly SSS-tier!-Chapter 247: Forbidden Knowledge (2)

The wraiths...it seemed their sins were heavier, which was why they were being punished a bit more cruelly, forced to respawn over and over for sheer suffering’s sake.

Males who fled to save their own skin, leaving their family to die or meet and live a fate worse than death, were forced to fight an unwinnable battle, dying time and again to atone for their sins of cowardice.

It was only because they at least tried to repent to a certain, genuine degree while they were still alive that they were given another chance to enter the Underworld River.

But not before they’ve suffered enough.

The females...those who left their husbands, sons, and daughters for pleasure and a better life were forced to serve a rotting king of an ancient empire who fell to a plague after an excessive conquest for land and territory.

The Crown.

Had The Crown not been a good ruler to his people, at least, then he would’ve easily qualified for a crueler punishment.

Weirdly, Daru caught a glimpse of a strange soul in the depths of the fallen ruler’s abominable head — something that he instinctively knew was out of place.

That soul...should not have been there.

But it was.

The forbidden knowledge mattered very little, though, as, like the first, Daru soon forgot it.

[You’ve gained 5 Will.]

With every significant revelation about the secrets of this Underworld Region that his mortal mind survived, the next overwhelming stream somehow became a little easier to receive.

That said, he was not in condition to hear Caleb’s horrified calls, nor notice the divine relic being forged at the stone table.

Far from it.

All he could do was continue taking in the transcendent information.

The Stone Castle’s history was quite simple.

The Forsaken Legionaries, Condemned Centurions, and Ashbound Praetors inhabiting it were those who weren’t against the killing, the plundering, and the immoral sexual acts, convincing themselves it was necessary for conquest, and that it was their ruler who was responsible for their actions.

Soldiers needed relief, rejuvenation, and morale, after all.

Then there were the hearthkeepers of the Netherstone Keep.

They slowly poisoned their ruler, feeding him things that would only hasten his death, all to please the firstborn, next in line to the throne.

Yet, the crown had never been passed on, and the firstborn, Commodus...was cursed to defend The Crown he would never obtain.

Meanwhile, the hearthkeepers were punished by being forced to cook, staring at what remained of their beloved being stirred in an accursed pot after the empire fell, and serving the meals to the rotting king as nourishment.

Toras, their warden, carried most of the sins in his belly, which was made a thousand times more sensitive to pain.

The burden would slow him down physically, allowing his punisher to rip his belly apart without too much difficulty.

And the wielder of a silver flyssa seemed to be the fated punisher. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Daru felt repulsed that he even considered answering the calls of The Crown of the Forsaken Legions as it begged him not to sacrifice it, promising the Stone Throne and a far easier operation at the heart of the cemetery.

Perhaps defeating the Gravewarden would’ve been a cake walk with the help of the Forsaken Legion, but if he succumbed to the beckons of the cursed crown, would he still be able to return to the Surface?

Vile...everyone in that castle was vile, and even his Cursed Sword Spirit, who wished that his sick father died sooner rather than later, was vile.

Then, everything disappeared once more, as if Daru had never learned of them at all.

[You’ve gained 5 Will.]

Finally, information about The Five flowed like streams, seeping into his brain.

Saphoros was a cheerful prince, loved by his subjects.

He vied for the throne...or tried, at least. But there was simply no chance. The firstborn was far too talented in all aspects of combat and war.

So, he sought relief instead, falling into depravity, neglecting his duties, and betraying those who put their trust in him, even causing their deaths.

Succumbing to excessive indulgence was his sin and punishment.

Rocante’s, on the other hand, was false glory.

He was strong, yet he cowered away from true challenges, roaming the lands, targeting weaker warriors, and forcing them into duels they wouldn’t be able to reject, all so he could bolster his collection of trophies from those unknown.

In an age where combat reputation was livelihood, he had ruined many lives, all for enjoyment and not one bit for survival.

Rocante had hundreds of wins under his notorious name, but none of them were significant.

His foul ears loved praises, but his sword was fragile.

If he hadn’t spared his victims merely to cultivate a false image of magnanimity, he would never have had the opportunity for oblivion.

And so he roamed Limbo, too, seeking the same glory in a world where no one was there to witness his victories, but thousands of weaker warriors to witness his defeat.

The next stream of information was about La Filosa, the Whisperer of Lies.

Through falsehoods she rose, and through falsehoods she fell. She ruined families, cities, and once, even an entire kingdom.

Her beauty was bewitching, and her skill in her craft was unmatched.

One day, the liar’s sins were uncovered, yet she paid little for them.

Far too little.

The final years of her life were peaceful, and even the way she died was way too peaceful for the vile thing that she was.

Daru found her the most repulsive of The Five.

Every single one of her lies was made known to him, and each one was a foul waste of space in his memory.

So, as punishment, the gods made every single one of her lies an unseen thorn, pricking her every single second for eons, making her twitch, spasm, and convulse through the pain multiplied by a hundred times.

She would’ve screamed her soul out in agony...had her lips not been sewn shut by divine strings.

Her only reprieve was the time she could lie again — a certain time of the day when someone fragile, unworthy, and unsatisfying would hear her words whispered through the divine shackles of her vile mouth.

But even that barely felt good.

After all, the accursed individual knows she’s lying — a fact she loathed — yet still relishes in her falsehoods.

He was only benefiting and was not being felled by her once-mighty words.

Last was the jester.

Like the other four, his sin was also his punishment.

Inaction.

It seemed so harmless, far more so than Indulgence, Conquest, Falsehood, and Delusion, yet somehow, it wasn’t

As the royal family’s favored fool, but known deeply and trusted by a few of their enemies, he could’ve chosen a better ending for everyone.

Yet he didn’t.

Harlowe did not act — not when his beloved was being forced to serve the king he despised, nor when things were going haywire for his true allies, all so he could save himself from the risk of death.

However, knowledge was power, and death chased him for the generous amount he had but refused to act on.

In the end, he still had to fight for his life, but this time, by his wretched lonesome.

If only he had acted before it was too late...

This was his regret, and he shall carry it with him until his punishment ends.

Like so ended the stream of information, vanishing into a part of his brain as though it had never existed.

[You’ve gained 5 Will.]

Nonetheless, for a dozen moments, Daru knew everything, and he didn’t miss a few strange facts.

First and foremost were the strange souls hidden in the depths of The Five’s head.

Were they the punished souls?

No...they weren’t...he was certain of it.

Second was the lack of information about the Cemetery of the Damned. It was as though the location was not supposed to be a part of the godless realm, yet was still part of it anyway.

Was it the reason why it was veiled in thicker mists? To prevent the eyes of those who could peer through the realm from seeing the anomaly?

Who could be the owner of such eyes?

Baal? The Gods and Goddesses?

There was also no information about the Reprieve.

As far as he knew from those dozen moments, all that was a natural part of Limbo entered his mind, so why were there no answers for them?

Unfortunately, the need to find out vanished alongside the memories, and the moment Daru found himself existing in his own mind and body again, he was holding something.

A relic.

It looked so profane yet felt so divine.