Ch 87: No Pressure

Garuda shifted his wings, deep in thought. "It doesn't add up. If Eru Ilúvatar truly had a hand in Sauron's power, then there must have been a reason beyond mere destruction."

Arthur exhaled sharply. "That's what I don't get. Eru created the Ainur, the world, and everything in it. Why strengthen the very thing that destroyed his own creations?"

Garuda tilted his head. "Perhaps… he was testing something?"

Arthur frowned. "Testing what?"

Garuda's golden eyes met his. "You."

"Me?" Arthur said.

"But why would he create an abomination to test and anonymous person who didn't even exist for LOTR up until now."

Garuda flapped his wings once, his gaze thoughtful. "That's the question, isn't it? Why you? Why now? It doesn't make sense—unless your presence itself was foreseen."

Arthur's brows furrowed. "You're saying Eru Ilúvatar knew I would come to this world?"

Garuda nodded. "Or at the very least, he accounted for the possibility. If that's the case, then Sauron's rise wasn't just some accident or anomaly—it was meant to happen because you were meant to be there."

Arthur crossed his arms. "But that still doesn't explain why."

Arthur exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it," he said, shaking his head. "Speculating won't get us anywhere. If I really want answers, I'll have to meet Eru Ilúvatar myself."

Garuda tilted his head. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Arthur sighed. "I have no idea. But sitting here debating theories will just lead to more questions than answers. I need to act."

Garuda flapped his wings. "Then I hope you're ready—because this won't be a simple meeting."

Arthur exhaled, his determination solidifying. "I know," he muttered, his voice firm. Without another word, he raised his hand, summoning a swirling vortex of golden energy. The portal shimmered, pulsating with raw power as it stabilized before him.

Garuda watched silently, his piercing gaze following Arthur's movements. "Be careful," the great bird finally said.

Arthur glanced back, offering a small smirk. "When am I not?"

And with that, he stepped forward, vanishing into the portal—back into the world of Middle-earth, where his greatest challenge awaited.

---

Arthur stepped through the portal, his boots landing on scorched earth. The battlefield where he had fallen no longer existed. Instead, a massive crater stretched before him, its surface smooth as if cleansed by divine hands.

At its center stood a lone figure.

Moonlight bathed him in an ethereal glow. His flowing white hair shimmered like silver threads, and his gown—woven from the fabric of the stars themselves—twinkled with celestial brilliance. His presence was unlike anything Arthur had ever felt. Calming, yet vast. Gentle, yet unfathomable.

Arthur exhaled.

"Eru Ilúvatar."

Arthur took a cautious step forward, his gaze locked onto the radiant figure before him. There was an undeniable weight in the air, an unspoken authority woven into every fiber of the being standing at the center of the crater.

The man—no, the entity—turned to face him, his glowing eyes carrying the depth of eternity itself.

"I was waiting for you, Arthur Wayne," Eru Ilúvatar said, his voice both gentle and absolute, as if reality itself bent to his words.

Arthur took another step closer, the weight of the incoming conversation pressing down on him like an unshakable burden. He locked eyes with Eru Ilúvatar, searching for answers in the depths of those cosmic irises.

A moment passed, silent yet deafening.

Finally, Arthur spoke—a single word, carrying all his exhaustion, frustration, and desperate need for understanding.

"Why?"

His voice was steady, but the question was anything but simple. It held everything—the suffering, the battles, the sacrifices. Why had Eru allowed it? Why had Arthur been tested like this?

Eru gazed at Arthur, his expression unreadable, yet his presence radiated an undeniable sense of knowing.

"You seek answers," Eru said, his voice both gentle and vast, as if the universe itself spoke through him. "Yet, are you prepared for them?"

Arthur clenched his fists. "I didn't come this far to turn back now."

Eru nodded. "Then listen well. The world you fought in—the enemy you faced—it was all by my will."

Arthur's eyes widened. "You… you made Sauron that powerful?"

Eru met his gaze. "Yes."

Arthur's breath hitched. "Why? Why make him that strong just to have me fight him?"

Eru's expression remained serene. "Because you needed to understand."

"Understand what? That no matter how strong I get, something stronger will always come along? That everything I did was meaningless?"

Eru shook his head. "No, Arthur. You needed to understand what it means to truly fight against fate—to defy what is written. You were never meant to exist in this world, yet you shaped it. You changed it. That is why you were tested."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "So it was all just a test? My suffering, my death—it was just some divine lesson?"

Eru's gaze softened. "Not a lesson. A choice. One only you could make."

Arthur fell silent. A choice? What choice had he made that mattered so much?

Eru's voice was calm, yet his words carried the weight of eternity.

"I saw two futures, Arthur. One where your presence brought light, and one where you drowned this world in shadow. In one, you emerged as a beacon of divinity. In the other, you reeked of death itself."

Arthur clenched his fists, but Eru continued.

"You are not just a traveler. You are a force. A being capable of reshaping even the world I created. For a moment, I feared that my hold over this realm might falter."

Arthur's breath caught. Even Eru feared him?

"That is why I forged an abomination. A lesser god of pure malice and destruction, a being designed to counterbalance the power you wield."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Sauron?"

Eru shook his head. "No. I let Morgoth find this being. Worship it. Draw strength from it. But Morgoth, in his arrogance, saw something greater—a vision beyond even my expectations. He sacrificed himself, offering his very essence to forge a single object: a sword."

Arthur's blood ran cold.

"The weapon Sauron wielded," he whispered.

Eru nodded. "It was never the One Ring that empowered him—it was the sword. A weapon of god-slaying malice, forged from the greatest darkness to test your resolve."

Arthur's mind raced. Every moment of that battle, every time he was overwhelmed—it all made sense now.

Arthur's mind raced.

"The sword... The sword. I was so focused on the Ring that I completely overlooked it. Sauron never wielded a sword—he used a mace. Why would he suddenly switch weapons?"

It wasn't just a simple choice of arms. If Eru was telling the truth, then the sword wasn't just a weapon—it was the true source of Sauron's overwhelming power.

Arthur exhaled sharply. That means… the Ring wasn't the real threat. The sword was.

His jaw tightened.

And he had no idea where it was now.

Eru's expression turned unreadable as if he read Arthur's thoughts.

"The sword no longer exists in its previous form," he said, his voice carrying a weight beyond time itself. "When you struck the final blow, its vessel—Sauron—was destroyed. But its essence… was not."

Arthur's fists clenched. "So where is it now?"

Eru sighed, looking up at the starry sky. "Scattered. Fractured across the world. But know this, Arthur Wayne—what was once broken can always be reforged."

Arthur scoffed internally. So what is this world now—Lord of the Sword?

The irony wasn't lost on him. The One Ring, the central artifact of corruption, had been a mere distraction. The real threat had been hidden in plain sight—Sauron's blade, a weapon forged from the remnants of Morgoth and an eldritch abomination.

Arthur exhaled sharply. "And if someone gathers the fragments?"

Eru's gaze darkened. "Then what you fought will seem like a mere shadow of the true nightmare that awaits."

"Huh? What do you mean wouldn't the weilder be as powerful as Sauron?."

Eru's expression remained calm, yet there was a weight to his words. "No, Arthur. Sauron was powerful, but he was still a being of this world. The sword is not."

Arthur frowned. "What are you saying?"

Eru's voice echoed across the crater. "Sauron resisted the sword's full corruption. He wielded destruction but did not let it consume him. But if a true vessel—one who fully embraces it—is found, then this world will not just fall… it will cease to exist."

Arthur clenched his fists. "Then can't you do something?! This is your world—you created it!"

Eru closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I created this world, yes, but it is no longer mine alone. It has shaped itself through countless choices, countless wills. Even my power has limits."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "So you're saying you can't interfere?"

"I can, but my interference can cause great destruction. Ihave already done more than I should," Eru said, his gaze piercing. "You, Arthur Wayne, are the variable that should never have existed here. And yet… you are also the only one who can stop what is to come."

Arthur's fists clenched. "So I have to clean up your mess?"

Eru's lips curled into an unreadable smile. "That depends… Do you see this as my mess, or your duty?"

Arthur's thoughts simmered with frustration. Bullshit. You create something designed to kill me, but when it spirals out of control, you expect me to clean up your mess? Wow. Just… wow.

He took a deep breath, pushing down the irritation threatening to boil over. "So let me get this straight," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "You made a doomsday weapon, handed it to Morgoth, let Sauron use it, and now that it's running wild, I'm supposed to handle it?"

Eru's expression remained serene. "Yes."

Arthur groaned. "Unbelievable."

Eru's gaze remained unreadable as he responded, "Seven."

Arthur exhaled sharply. "Of course, it couldn't be just one. That would be too easy." He pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a headache coming on. "And let me guess, these shards are scattered across the world in the most inconvenient locations possible?"

Eru gave a small nod. "Some are buried deep within the earth. Others have been claimed—knowingly or unknowingly—by powerful beings. The sword may be broken, but its influence lingers."

Arthur muttered under his breath, "Great. A scavenger hunt for world-ending artifacts. Just my luck."

---

Arthur stood before the swirling portal, his muscles tense with frustration. Just as he was about to step through, Eru's voice echoed behind him.

"Where are you going?"

Arthur didn't turn back. "I'll be back in a second."

Without waiting for a response, he stepped through the portal, arriving back in his own universe. He took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and then—

"FFFUUUCCCKKK!"

The sheer force of his scream rattled the walls.

Feeling significantly better, he reopened the portal, stepped back into Eru's realm, and exhaled.

"Okay. Now I'm good."

Arthur crossed his arms, his mind racing. "So, I need to track down seven fragments of this sword, some of which are buried, while others have already been claimed by one of the hundred thousand people still alive?"

Eru nodded. "That is correct. But there is more. I did not simply restore life—I reset the world itself. Every soul that perished has returned, including Sauron."

Arthur's jaw tightened. "So now the odds are even worse."

Arthur let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing his temples. "Why is it always the gods?" he muttered under his breath. "In every damn world, it's always some divine being screwing everything up."

And he wasn't wrong.

In Naruto, it was Kaguya, an alien goddess who threw the world into chaos. In Bleach, Yhwach, the son of the Soul King, tried to reshape existence itself. In One Piece, countless people claimed to be gods, each bringing destruction in their wake.

Now, in Lord of the Rings, it was Eru.

Eru gazed at Arthur with an expression that was neither pitying nor mocking—just stating a fact. "I understand that this is my fault," he admitted, his voice calm yet unwavering. "But I didn't expect you to be this… weak."

Arthur felt something snap inside him. It wasn't anger. It wasn't frustration. It was worse—an invisible arrow straight to his pride.

His fists clenched. His jaw tightened.

Weak?

Arthur had fought and bled, died and come back. And yet, here he was, being called weak by the very being who had caused all this mess.

Eru's gaze remained steady as he continued, his voice carrying the weight of inevitability. "The version of you I saw could level mountains with a mere swing of his sword. He could flatten armies by sheer will alone. His very presence changed the tides of battle."

Arthur's grip tightened.

"This is the fate I foresaw," Eru continued. "A being of overwhelming power—one who could shape the world itself. And yet, here you stand, struggling against the weight of a broken blade and shattered destiny."

Arthur stood there, listening to Eru's words. He clenched his fists but said nothing—because what could he say? Before a being like Eru, one who shaped worlds and dictated fate, words felt meaningless.

He wasn't a god. He wasn't some all-powerful force that could bend reality to his will. Compared to beings like Eru, he was insignificant.

But—

Arthur's grip on Excalibur tightened.

He wasn't weak.

He had fought, struggled, and survived. He had stood against impossible odds and won. He wasn't a god.

But he was Arthur Wayne.

Arthur took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus.

"Do you have any idea where the seven pieces are? Any hints?" he asked, his voice steady.

Eru gazed at him for a moment before responding, "The hilt lies beneath you, buried under rubble, stone, and mud."

Arthur glanced down at the crater, his eyes narrowing. Of course, it wouldn't be easy. He had stood here before—this very spot where he had died. Now, beneath his feet, lay the first piece of a weapon that could unmake the world.

Arthur let out a small chuckle as he crouched down, brushing aside loose dirt with his hands.

'I don't know why but I suddenly have this urge to sing diggy diggy hole.'

The absurdity of the moment helped ease the tension, even if just a little. He was about to unearth a piece of a doomsday weapon, and here he was, making jokes.

With a sigh, he focused. His hands clenched, and with a surge of strength, he began pulling away the rubble.

Arthur quickly realized that digging with just his hands would take far too long. With a flick of his wrist, he activated a levitation spell, causing large chunks of rubble to rise effortlessly into the air.

"Much better," he muttered, guiding the debris aside and clearing a path layer by layer.

As the dust settled, the ground beneath him became visible—hardened stone and compacted dirt, untouched for what felt like centuries. He exhaled sharply, preparing himself. The first piece of the sword was down there, waiting to be claimed.

"One last question before you disappear, Does the sword affect only the weilder or does it's auro causes corruption too?"

Eru looked down at Arthur, his expression unreadable. "The sword's corruption does not stop at its wielder," he said. "Its very presence distorts the world around it. Those who remain near it for too long will be tainted—whether they hold it or not."

Arthur's grip tightened. "So if someone even finds a piece..."

Eru nodded. "Their soul will slowly erode, their desires twisted into something darker. The longer the blade remains scattered, the more this world risks falling into ruin once again."

Arthur exhaled sharply. "Great. No pressure."

---

Point out the mistakes you find.