The Followers
The bastard’s name… what was it again? Something about being the hundred and first, I think. Can’t quite recall. Ah, right—Dreng. Garam’s lackey number 101.
I slapped the bald swordsman Dreng across the face once more. Thwack!
I had originally planned to just pulp his mouth so he could never spew that disgusting nonsense again, but then I remembered that if I knocked all his teeth out, eating would lose some of its charm. One of the reasons I had managed to endure this world was because of food. They say appetite easily beats lust among basic human desires. That’s how generous I am when it comes to eating. The guy was already bald; if I took his teeth too, his life would be downright pitiful. So I decided to spare his teeth for now and educate his face instead. Who knows—maybe a few good punches would straighten it out and improve things.
“Kuhk! Gack!”
“So this is the level of the hundred-and-first sword who follows the Sword Hero. The Sword Hero would be thrilled to hear about it.”
“Keck! Gack! I-I’m sorry! Urgh! I was rude—!”
“Oh? You’re apologizing right away? I thought you’d last a little longer.”
“Just spare me! Please, just spare my life! Keck! Gack!”
“Don’t worry. You won’t die.”
It wasn’t a lie. I never intended to kill him in the first place. If I had truly wanted him dead, he would have been gone long ago. Iris would know—I hadn’t used any real strength, just swung my hand. If I had struck him with the same force I used to give her those honey-filled head flicks, his face would have caved in at the very least.
“H-Hey! That’s enough!”
“Leave it. This bastard needs a beating to come to his senses.”
“What if he dies like this?”
“Exactly. Didn’t one of them already get dragged off for causing trouble in the previous village?”
“If he dies, he’ll deal with it himself. Mind your own business.”
What a fine group of followers. Not a shred of camaraderie for their comrade. Well, this bald bastard never had anyone worth calling a comrade anyway, so maybe it was only natural.
After I spent a few more minutes “petting” our bald friend, I spoke.
“Hey, Baldy.”
I gave his cheek a light slap.
“……”
“If you’re going to play dead, I can just finish the job and make it real.”
“Kuhup! N-No, sir! I’m alive!”
“Then answer me, Baldy.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
“I don’t really care what you were thinking when you joined. People can’t live honestly all the time. Sometimes they want to do bad things, stray from the path, or show off. I get all that.”
“R-Really? Th-Thank you.”
“But, Baldy, know your place before you act up. There’s a saying: lie down only where you belong. If you don’t know that and sprawl out anywhere, you’re just lying in your own grave.”
Was there anyone worse than this guy among Garam’s followers? I didn’t know. Maybe someone even more rotten—like a Demon God Worshipper—was hiding among them. But I had no way of knowing who, or how to find out. So this was the best I could do: make them a little more cautious, even if it was only a temporary measure.
After all, managing them wasn’t my job—it was Garam’s. A master shouldn’t do a disciple’s work. I was satisfied with just crushing one fool who didn’t know his place.
I stood up and looked around. Even the scarred man who had been grumbling at the bald guy, along with everyone else, just stared at me in stunned silence. They clearly hadn’t expected me to beat him so overwhelmingly.
“Anyone else want to test the new guy’s skills?”
Of course not. After watching someone who supposedly had some skill get beaten like a dog, no one stepped forward. I walked over to Iris, took the sword from her, and sat down in a quiet corner.
“Disciple.”
“Yes, Master.”
“You didn’t come here just to watch that, did you? Was there something else you wanted to see?”
“Huh? Ah… I-I don’t really know.”
“I see.”
Of course she would say she didn’t know. While I was beating the bald guy, Iris hadn’t been watching me. Instead, she kept glancing around as if she were looking for someone.
Just what is my disciple up to?
I needed to leave this group quickly and head to where the fifth disciple had disappeared. But ignoring Iris when she was acting so strangely felt suspicious. She probably thought she was being subtle, but who did she learn from? Was she underestimating this master of hers?
Disciple?
“You have arrived, Sword Hero.”
The ones greeting Garam at her side were among the strongest of the followers who served the Sword Hero. Some had been renowned knights, others swordsmen in training, and still others reclusive masters of the blade. Every one of them had once prided themselves on being second to none with a sword. Now those same proud warriors bowed their heads to a single beastkin woman.
Garam barely acknowledged their greetings. These people followed her for their own reasons. Even if some truly wished to help her protect the world’s peace, none of them could actually fight alongside her. Her battle was something only she herself could face.
Because of that, Garam gave none of them any real attention or affection. To her, the followers who trailed after her were nothing more than tools. If one died, she might feel a slight regret; if one survived, she might nod in approval. But if asked whether they were precious to her, Garam would answer without the slightest hesitation: no.
The only one precious to me is that single person.
Because that man cherished his other disciples as well, she treated her junior sisters with care—though not as much as he did. The woman called Grand Master was also his teacher, so Garam treated her with proper respect. Everything began with that man—her master.
“Hero. While you were away, there was some trouble.”
“And?”
“At first we thought it was just a simple fight, but it seems a man from the previous city threatened a village woman and stole her belongings. That appears to be what started the conflict.”
“How was it handled?”
“We got a confession, and now he’s tied up awaiting your decision…”
“Kill him.”
Her voice was utterly cold, devoid of any warmth—completely different from the tone she used when clinging to her master. It was so sharp that the listeners flinched.
“Understood, Sword Hero.”
Once the middle-aged man withdrew, Garam swept her chilling gaze across the surroundings. The followers who had gathered one by one now numbered well over a hundred. There had originally been far more, but many had been the type to cause trouble. Wanted criminals on the run, assassins targeting her, even Demon God Worshippers trying to sow discord—Garam paid them little mind. Whenever people gathered, trash was inevitable. Unfortunately, she had no clever way to sift them out. But there was no need to worry. Those with something to hide would eventually reveal themselves. When the time came, she would simply cut off their heads and issue a warning.
I don’t have the luxury to worry about things like this.
She had to slay as many monsters as possible. Only then could she return to her master’s side even a day sooner. Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to run straight to him right now, rub herself against him, and declare that he belonged to her. Her beloved, precious master. She wanted to spend as much time with him as they had been apart.
“Hero.”
“What.”
“Those two new people who just arrived…”
“……”
“Where exactly did they come from?”
“Why do you ask?”
The “two people” clearly referred to her master and the youngest disciple. Garam narrowed her eyes at the woman who had spoken.
“Well, right after they entered, some kind of commotion broke out. It seems there was a fight. Perhaps you should summon the parties involved and deal with it…”
Thud!
Before the woman could finish, her body was suddenly sent flying. The followers stared in shock. Garam now stood there, gripping the woman by the collar and holding her aloft.
“Kuhk?! H-Hero! Why—why are you—!”
“Don’t concern yourself. Don’t even mention it. If you bring up that person one more time, I’ll kill you.”
It was no joke. This was both the first and final warning. A chilling killing intent gathered and slowly bound everyone nearby. Breathing grew difficult, bodies trembled, and heads bowed of their own accord.
“I-I’m sorry. I overstepped…”
Thud!
Only after those words left the woman’s mouth did Garam release her grip. At the same time, the killing intent that had pressed down on everyone like blades vanished.
“Weren’t you all gathered here simply to follow me?”
“Y-Yes, Hero.”
“Then just follow. Advice is permitted, but don’t overstep.”
At Garam’s words, every skilled follower nearby hurriedly bowed their heads. Just as she said, they were nothing more than followers of the Sword Hero. They weren’t even equals, so stepping forward was absurd.
“H-Hero.”
At that moment, someone carefully approached. It was the female knight Garam had acknowledged, the one entrusted with delivering letters to her.
“A messenger hawk just arrived.”
Garam held out her hand, and the knight carefully placed the letter on her palm.
— Fourth Disciple sends this letter to the Grand Master. —
— As you instructed, I will proceed with the investigation toward the last place the Fifth Disciple was seen. —
— According to reports from that area, there has been no major battle so far. —
— I won’t know the exact details until I go there myself, but something feels off. —
— Perhaps we should consider asking Master for help. I ask this cautiously. —
After reading the entire letter, Garam smiled. As expected of her master—her great, wonderful master. Had he already known this would happen and offered to step in? Ah, this only made her want to finish her work even faster and follow him.
Swish, swish—
Her fox tail swayed vigorously as Garam wore an alluring smile.