Although she felt a little nostalgic for the Golden Sword, Hypatia was a sufficiently clear-headed and rational person.
She knew perfectly well that Hermes was dead and would never return. The Golden Sword had neither been forged by Hermes nor used by him. He had merely been an intermediary, a messenger who transferred it from one side to the other.
It could not even become an old keepsake with which to remember the dead.
More importantly, its owner was Iver, not her. She did not care that much about how other people's possessions were used... much less when Iver was the benefactor who had saved her daughter.
Compared to a dead sword that had been given away long ago, a living person right in front of her mattered more.
Thus, Hypatia did not hesitate in the slightest.
After confirming that Iver was genuinely uninterested in its power, she dissolved the sword herself.
Her fingers gently brushed over the Red Hilt Sword. Countless fine, dark-golden runes rose from the hilt, then dimmed again as threads of flowing light gradually seeped into the sword. As if sensing something, it began to vibrate and struggle desperately, emitting deep, pitiful hums... like a trembling young beast.
As a trace of divine radiance seeped from the Red Hilt Sword, a brilliant yet intangible blade of light gradually condensed. In a daze, it seemed as though a hymn had sounded beside her ear. Merely looking at the sword, Hypatia felt that it was not a dead object... but a Little Girl in a Red Dress, perhaps only thirteen or fourteen years old.
She was looking at Hypatia imploringly, while marks symbolizing destruction surfaced on her skin.
Those were the Self-Destruction Runes Hypatia had infused into it... a spell that could make matter disintegrate and collapse on