Catch Her
I soon learned why Iris kept glancing around like that. She looked this way and that exactly like a puppy desperate to go outside, constantly searching for something. It didn’t take long before I understood the reason.
“My name is Iris. Nice to meet you.”
“Really? That’s a pretty name. I’m…”
“…”
Right now Iris had suddenly struck up a friendship with the one-eyed woman and was chatting away with her. Watching the scene, I wasn’t sure what to call it. Strange, maybe? If she had latched onto some weird man I could have written it off as her usual liveliness, but here she was getting cozy with another woman.
It was true that Iris’s personality was overly bright, but she only showed her real self to those she was close to. When she first met Master she had seemed quite intimidated, and she had only grown somewhat familiar with Garam because they shared the same teacher. Maybe it was because she had been an orphan before I took her in. In front of strangers she never spoke first and tended to act timid. I remembered that side of her clearly, yet here she was approaching someone without the slightest hesitation. And it wasn’t even an acquaintance; they had met today for the first time.
There was something going on. More precisely, she was after something.
“Newbie.”
When I turned my head, the scarred man who had been hammering the bald guy with hard facts was looking at me. He held out a cigarette in a ‘want one?’ gesture. I shook my head. Master smoked whenever she felt bored, but I was a non-smoker. Thanks to that I had suffered plenty of secondhand smoke, yet I had grown so used to it that I sometimes wondered whether I was actually a smoker or not.
“What? You don’t smoke?”
“I’m a non-smoker.”
“Surprising. Guys like us who live by the blade usually can’t survive without cigarettes.”
“…I get that it helps when things are tough, but it just doesn’t appeal to me.”
“Then I won’t push it. Saves me a cigarette anyway.”
The scarred man lit up after saying that, then turned his head and exhaled the smoke in the opposite direction from me. Not bad—the bastard at least had basic manners. If he had blown it in my face I would have made him swallow the whole thing.
“You called her your attendant?”
“More accurately, she’s my disciple. I’m responsible for training her.”
“I see. So why did the two of you suddenly join this group?”
“We didn’t come here to join.”
“You didn’t?”
“We just happened to blend in while passing through.”
The scarred man stared at me as if he couldn’t understand. I gave him a vague mix of explanations. We had been in a nearby city and set out with my disciple for a trip. Along the way we coincidentally ran into the Sword Hero and decided to follow her for a while. My disciple was extremely curious about Heroes and wanted to see her followers.
“…So you’re not interested in following the Sword Hero.”
“Exactly. The moment my disciple loses interest, we’ll leave immediately.”
“This isn’t some neighborhood picnic mercenary band. Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”
“After seeing that bald guy’s level earlier, it felt pretty similar to a mercenary band. Or am I wrong?”
I tossed out a light provocation. Men who lived by the sword tended to be extremely proud. At my level I didn’t get looked down on. I was quite strong, after all. That sort of attitude. Their defining trait was hating to be compared to their own kind.
Honestly there wasn’t much difference between a mercenary group and a crowd of Hero followers. It would be nice if they carried some noble purpose, but from what I could see most of them didn’t.
Now then, how would our scarred friend react? If he was on the same level as the bald guy it would be a little disappointing. You’re not bald, so there’s no mitigating factor for you.
“When you put it that way, I have nothing to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“Seeing how thoroughly you crushed that bald bastard, you look like you belong around the Hero. It means you possess enough power to enforce your own will, even if you’re not on the Hero’s level. If someone like that behaves this way, there must be a reason, right?”
“So it’s ‘I’ll keep my mouth shut because I’m the weak one’? Is that it?”
“It just means I think there must be a proper reason behind your decisions and actions.”
It was a cheap provocation, but any low-level thug would have taken the bait. The scarred man simply shrugged without so much as a flicker of displeasure. His martial prowess might be average, but his mind was clearly first-rate.
If a man like this turned out to be a Demon God Worshipper it would become extremely annoying. Had I lacked the ability to read people I would have subdued him on the spot and interrogated him. There was no need to go far; one session of the joint-destroying technique Master taught me would solve everything. No matter how strong one’s endurance, it was pain impossible to bear. I had tested it on Master once and couldn’t sleep properly for three days afterward. That was why I hesitated to use it without certainty. Mistakenly grabbing the wrong person would be exhausting in its own right.
“Now that I think about it, you said you came from a city nearby, right?”
The scarred man, oblivious to my inner thoughts, let out a thoughtful “Ah” and continued. When I nodded he stroked his chin and spoke again.
“Before the Hero arrived earlier, a few people came through talking about how a Hero had appeared. At first I thought they meant the Sword Hero, but it seems that wasn’t the case. Do you know anything about it?”
“I don’t know the details, but I heard there was a monster attack. They said one person stepped forward and slaughtered every last one of them.”
“As I thought… Do you know anything more about which Hero it was?”
“No. They said the person didn’t give a name and simply disappeared. The city is still split on whether it was an existing Hero or a newly born one.”
In truth the Hero in question was the girl sitting over there chattering nonstop, but I kept that to myself.
The scarred man nodded at my answer. “As expected.”
“Monsters have been increasing lately. So another Hero has appeared.”
“You seem to follow the Heroes quite passionately, contrary to your appearance.”
“…Even if I had a pretty face like yours, I would have lived exactly the same. Heroes are this world’s only hope. They are the ones who will save us from monsters, Demon God Worshippers, and demonic creatures.”
“There aren’t even that many Heroes, yet they have so much to do.”
“True. That’s why we help, no matter how insignificant we may be. You might not know this, but more than half the people here have lost family, friends, or someone precious to monsters or demonic beings.”
At his words I glanced around the camp. These were people who could have lived comfortably without following anyone—by joining a knight order, a mercenary company, or even the military. Their skills weren’t exceptional, but they were clearly above average. Yet they had come to this follower group where there was no reward and they might simply die in the line of duty.
A sense of duty, perhaps. Or a mission. Maybe the ambition to succeed even as the Hero’s leftovers. I had expected those harboring hidden daggers, waiting for the right moment. But now I realized there was yet another category.
“Revenge?”
“You could call it that.”
“It’s futile. The Hero isn’t someone who carries out your revenge for you.”
“The Hero said the same thing. I am not the one who will take revenge in your place.”
“Even after hearing that, you still follow?”
The scarred man gave a small chuckle at my question. It wasn’t mockery or anything unpleasant. It was simply the smile people wore when they heard an obvious question and had to give an obvious answer.
“I told you. They are the only ones who can restore this broken world. That is what Heroes are. So I follow.”
“What about revenge?”
“If it were up to me I’d want to kill them all and chew their flesh. But that isn’t enough. It doesn’t end with killing a few monsters or demonic creatures. We have to stop them from achieving what they want. The despair they wish to give us—I will keep following the Hero until every last trace of it is swept away.”
“…”
“That is what I consider true revenge.”
This scarred man… he was better than I thought. If he truly meant those words, then even if his skills were mediocre his heart was magnificent. If it was all an act, he would deserve every acting award in existence. And if he actually won one, the bastard would die by my hand without fail.
“You must have a story you can’t speak about.”
“Everyone has a story no matter where you go. The only thing that matters is whose is more miserable.”
Then, mid-sentence, the scarred man suddenly yelped, “Ah, hot! Fuck!” and dropped his cigarette. He had been so busy talking that he hadn’t even smoked half of it.
“Tsk. What a waste.”
He ground the cigarette out under his boot and pulled out another. With a deep inhale he drew in the smoke.
So even details like this are fully implemented.
It had been a game of insane difficulty when it came to pulling characters, yet the reason I could never quit this damn game was exactly this. Not only the main characters but even passing extras had been given their own stories. Those tales shifted slightly through interaction, each carrying its own threads of connection. When they tangled together they eventually formed one massive event. It meant I could create my own route instead of simply following the main quest.
I had seen stories similar to the scarred man’s several times before. Survivors who lost parents, children, lovers, family, or friends to the enemies of this world and burned with rage. They followed the Hero, vented their resentment, and died in the process.
“It’s not good.”
“What?”
“I said it’s not good.”
Even while playing the game I had never liked this kind of story. Hearing it directly in front of my eyes made the feeling even stronger. My heart grew heavy and my mood restless.
I rose from my seat and walked toward Iris. She seemed to have finished her conversation and was just getting up as well.
“Ah!”
“Huh?!”
Suddenly Iris staggered and pitched forward. There was nothing to trip over, so the fall itself was odd. With her physical ability she should have been able to twist her body and recover instantly. Yet the girl didn’t seem to think of that at all and simply collapsed.
Riiip!
The one-eyed woman’s coat tore completely. It wasn’t some ragged old thing; the leather looked tough enough to serve as armor against both cold and injury. Unfortunately her counterpart was no ordinary woman but a Hero who could beat low-grade monsters to death with her bare hands. The coat instantly turned to tatters.
“Huh?”
“Eek! I-I’m sorry!”
“Good grief.”
This was going to drive me insane. That sturdy leather garment had clearly doubled as protective armor. Ruining it in a single moment meant an apology and compensation were in order. I was wondering how I should scold our disciple this time when—
Thud!
Something fell from the inner pocket of the torn coat.
“…Ha?”
The moment I saw it a sigh escaped me. The other humans here probably wouldn’t recognize what it was. They had never seen one and wouldn’t know its true purpose. To them it would look like nothing more than a small crystal.
“Iris.”
But I knew. That crystal was a communication device used by Demon God Worshippers. It could only receive and had no transmission function, yet it was perfectly sufficient for receiving orders and carrying them out. The fact that this woman carried it meant only one thing.
A detestable traitor of this world had slipped into the shadow of the Hero who was supposed to save it.