Solo Swordmaster

Chapter 58: The Cursed Violin

“This is…”

Limon instinctively let out a groan the minute he saw the violin of the Black Abyss.

It wasn’t just the overflowing, decrepit scent of magic incomparably worse to when it was just rotting inside of the box. It was also the flickering energy of the light, faint as a firefly under a dim light.

Others would not have known. Even the swordmaster was considered a goner in the Iron Age.

Not many would have recognized a magic tool that was rare, even in the Heroes’ Age, but Limon had seen all different manners of magic items. He could recognize it immediately from just a glance.

Maybe it was impossible not to recognize it.

The energy emanating from it, in a way, was the most familiar to Limon.

“Oi, you old bastard! This is a cursed violin!”

Limon had hunted down dark mages to the point he got sick of them in the past. The ‘cursed’ treasures they possessed, the violin had the same somber energy as them.

Demonic swords that drank blood, armor that made its wearer go berserk, lamps that granted wishes at the cost of one’s lifespan…

Limon’s fury upon seeing the object could bring a full-grown adult to tears, let alone comfort the crying children.

“Hey now, watch your mouth. How dare you call a holy violin made from the Muse’s priest cursed?”

“Holy, my ass. You think I wouldn’t know that half the cursed objects that appear come from the temples?”

“…Are you a mage?”

“I can’t use magic, but I’ve definitely beat up quite a few priests and witches.”

Limon patted the sword on his waist. He’d spent most of his life fighting and had many enemies. Among them were not just dark mages, but also priests who brainwashed people for evangelism, and witches who experimented on humans.

Dark mages were fundamentally evil, but that didn’t mean those who used light magic granted by the gods were good. Each god had different morals, after all.

Hence, Limon could only scoff when the old man claimed the cursed violin to be holy just because a priest had made it.

“Ahem! Jeez, don’t get me wrong, now. This is a violin made with proper magic.”

“Yeah, a properly cursed violin.”

“Ah, go on and hold it if you really don’t believe me. I will give up my life should something bad happen.”

“Hm…”

Whether it was because of his sword, or his murderous gaze, the old man desperately claimed his innocence.

Limon looked at him with doubt. He knew just how dangerous magic was. To tell him to hold that cursed object could only come off as nonsense to him.

“How about we listen to him for now?”

An unexpected voice came to the old man’s defense.

“You want me to do it?”

“Yes, I don’t think he is lying. If it really was dangerous, it wouldn’t be in a place like this,” Li Chingwei said with a smile. Turning her head slightly behind her, she added playfully, “besides, I think the children are going to cry soon.”

“…”

The children really did look moments away from an outburst.

Limon furrowed his brows. He didn’t want to touch something so suspicious, but he wouldn’t be able to stop the children from crying otherwise. Was he going to leave the children, who were guaranteed to cry, or bear his doubts?

The answer was chosen from the beginning.

“Alright, let’s see how great this thing is to be causing such a fuss about.”

He rubbed his face and grumbled, holding up the violin.

It wasn’t just for the children. Half of it was out of curiosity, too. Just what was this violin to radiate such strong energy? The other half was his confidence that a measly inanimate object would be unable to do anything to him.

It was prideful, sure, but he was Limon Asphelder.

The last swordmaster.

He’d survived a curse from the Demon God themself, the final boss of dark magic, and even cut his own throat at one point.

“……”

In an instant, Limon fixed the violin to his shoulder and got in position with the bow.

***

***

Oh, how natural his movements were!

“Master of Swords, you know how to play the violin?”

Li Chingwei looked on with interest as even the children widened their eyes.

“...I’ve never held an instrument in my entire life.”

“Then how is your posture so good?”

She was perplexed. Limon had the stance of a professional violinist who’d done nothing but hold a bow his entire life.

Limon answered apathetically.

“A curse, of course.”

“Hey. I said it’s magic.”

“Same thing, geezer. What else would you call a violin that moves the holder against their will?”

“I told ya. It’s a holy violin that the Muse’s priest made,” the old man snickered.

Long ago, there was a priest who served the Goddess of Art, the Muse. He wanted to dedicate a beautiful performance to his beloved goddess.

Unfortunately… The priest was tone deaf.

In agony from this divine punishment, the devout priest changed tactics.If he couldn’t perform, he would just create an instrument that would play majestic pieces for him.

Blessed by the muse, he spent his whole life creating it—his magnum opus. The Black Abyssal Violin.

“Told ya it’s great. It makes anyone able to perform, even if you’ve never even held a violin in your life.”

“…But you can’t stop playing until the piece ends.”

“Ah, how’d ya know?”

“That’s why it’s a cursed item, you senile fucking geezer!”

Limon had a rough idea of the principles behind the creation of the violin.

‘This is just the instrumental version of the Cursed Sword, isn’t it?’

The Cursed Sword controlled its wielder’s body to attack anyone it saw.

Likewise, there was a surprising number of cursed items that granted its owner skills with a blade.

Using swordsmanship allowed one to cut down more people, after all.

The Abyssal Black Violin was fundamentally similar.

Swords and instruments. Swordsmanship and performance. The fact that they both physically forced the holder to use the intended techniques made them fruits of the same tree.

‘The method is pretty genius, actually.’ Limon was impressed, in all honesty.

Using a curse to make up for one’s lack of musical skill was a first, even for Limon. The position, the fingering, chords… It all naturally came to him. On top of that, the curse would end as soon as he finished playing.

It was certainly deserving of being called a magical instrument.

“What are ya doing? Go on, play it.”

And yet, Limon looked disapproving. It wasn’t just because the old man’s sly face urging him to play was suspicious. Why was such a useful instrument just rotting away in an old amusement park?

Plus, a cursed instrument with this refinement was strange to begin with.

‘This old fuck’s got something behind his back.’

But despite his doubts, Limon didn’t choose to break the curse. He simply rested the bow back onto the strings.

Either way, the children were no longer on the verge of tears. They were all watching Limon, mesmerized. And Limon could always break free from this measly curse if something felt off.

He gave up and moved as the violin told him to.

***

‘Hoho, another victim of the poor violin.’

The old man smiled with delight, looking at Limon with a playful glee in his eyes.

‘What kind of silly piece are ya gonna play this time?’

He hadn’t exactly fooled Limon. It was all true that the Abyssal Black Violin was a proper magical instrument made by the Muse’s priest.

But he hadn’t told him everything, either. Like the fact the priest never got to play properly, even with the violin.

In some way, that was the obvious outcome. It would have been impossible for a tone deaf priest to play perfectly on a violin.

Of course, the priest was aware of this problem. And so, he modeled dozens of the greatest instrumentalists of his time and with the blessing of the Muse, tried creating the most ideal heavenly tune.

Surprisingly, it was a success. Aside from his tone deafness, the priest had a divine talent for magic.

There was only one problem—he couldn’t play it himself.

‘Only a divine being can play divine music.’

Even if it were the same instrument, a performance greatly depended on the player’s arm and finger length, their senses and artistry, and other small minute details. But the priest had ignored all those differences, and instilled dozens of musicians’ artistry into the curse.

As a result, it had become impossible for any single human to play. Even the top violinists entered a state of confusion and ended up playing a mess.

‘What a poor violin.’

Unable to handle the despair, the Muse’s saint ended up taking his own life.

The Abyssal Black Violin was indeed cursed. It was capable of even killing a potential absolute ruler of the Iron Age.

That was why this violin was rotting in a place like this when it should have been considered a sacred relic. Not only was it impossible to play properly, no one would want an instrument with such ominous beginnings.

Of course, it wasn’t the violin’s fault. But there was nothing anyone could do about it. People only cared about the outcome.

‘It wouldn’t have been treated as a children’s toy… If only it had met the right owner.’

That was something the old man often thought.

If only the violin had met an owner with all the ideal gifts of a musician—a body that could play any instrument, accompanied with superhuman senses and a heavenly aesthetic.

An instrument that could play tunes that touched even gods.

‘Well, such a human can’t exist, anyway.’

The old man knew better than anyone else that it was a futile daydream. He had looked over this museum of magic for decades.

From apostle-rank martial artists who had mastered the Seven Dragons Association’s secret curriculums, to high-level players who had instrumental skills. Not even they, with all their superhuman abilities, could bear the curse of the violin.

And so, the old man looked forward to what blasphemous tune would come out of this violin this time. He wondered if Limon would buy the recorded security camera footage installed in the museum, or demand it be deleted.

But the minute Limon raised his bow, placed it lightly on the violin, and slid it across the string—

Ziing.

The old man lost the smile on his face.

——

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