No Paradise in the Place You Fled
The morning sun shattered into fragments over the guard post at the entrance to Ludel village. Hans adjusted the bow slung across his back and trudged forward. Beside him walked four middle-aged men with protruding bellies, chuckling among themselves. Anyone could tell they were a third-rate party of neighborhood vigilantes nearing retirement.
"Master Sage! Are you departing on your expedition!"
Hans's steps faltered at the booming salute. It was Rina. She stood in her crisply pressed security uniform, offering a flawless salute as though seeing off the world's most revered hero.
"Ah... yeah... good work..." Hans weakly raised a hand and waved back.
Rina's eyes glistened with unshed tears. In her gaze, Hans's retreating figure was the very picture of a tragic hero shouldering the world's burdens and marching toward a solitary battle.
But reality was a cesspool.
Hans's eyes unconsciously swept over Rina's body. The tight uniform pants clung to her firm thighs. Her upright posture accentuated the curve of her chest and the narrow dip of her waist. His mind remembered. Just days ago, on the guardhouse bed, those thighs had squeezed his head with crushing force. The slick, scalding sensation of her inner walls filling his mouth, and the sharp-sweet taste of the fluids that flooded out when she sucked like a vacuum.
I remember... I definitely remember everything in my head.
Hans furtively glanced down at the front of his trousers. Silence. Like an empty house with its owner gone, only cold stillness remained. Normally, the mere sight of Rina's breathtaking uniform fit would have pitched an immediate tent, yet now there was not even a twitch. It felt as though the nerves had been severed. Like a broken toy switch—no matter the stimulation, the light refused to come on.
"Please... return safely! I will be waiting!"
Rina's solemn cry struck Hans to the bone.
Don't wait... please...
Hans turned away with the urge to cry. Shame, self-loathing, and the despair of a man receiving his own death sentence pressed down on his shoulders.
"Hey, kid! What are you dawdling for? We need to reach the forest edge before sunset!"
The burly leader up ahead shouted while picking his teeth.
"C-coming, big brother!"
Hans bolted into the group of uncles as if fleeing.
At the same moment, on the rough unpaved road leading to Ludel village, the interior of a rattling carriage stood in stark contrast to the dusty scenery outside. Seats upholstered in the finest velvet, a subtle fragrance drifting through the air. At the center sat a silver-haired woman—Cecilia, Hans's academy classmate and the youngest deputy commander of the Imperial Central Knights. She gently stroked the long scabbard resting on her lap as though it were a lover. Beside it rolled a golden trophy.
[Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament Champion]
A glorious prize most people would never glimpse even once in their lifetime, yet to Cecilia it was nothing more than roadside clutter.
"Master..."
A soft sigh escaped her lips. Despite her ice-sculpture exterior, her eyes burned with heat.
"Why on earth did you hide yourself away in such a rural backwater?"
She glared at the desolate landscape beyond the window. Even if the world hailed her as a genius swordsman, the only recognition that mattered came from one man—Kane, the Empire's First Sword and her swordsmanship master. The heartless man who had vanished one day, leaving behind only a single letter.
Cecilia picked up the trophy. Her silver hair and cool gaze reflected on its golden surface.
"I want to show you how much stronger I've become. And..." Her cheeks flushed faintly. "That I'm no longer a child."
She had taken her master's teasing promise—that he would accept her once she became an adult—as a solemn vow. The carriage jolted, yet Cecilia's posture remained unshaken. Every sense was fixed ahead, toward Ludel village.
The forest near the orc colony. The sun had already vanished beyond the western mountains, leaving the woods steeped in darkness. An eerie wind rattled the branches with unpleasant sounds.
"Grurur..."
A beast's breathing echoed from the shadows. Hans tensed.
"Orcs! A scouting party!"
He swiftly drew his bow. A B-rank subjugation request—nothing to take lightly. The undergrowth rustled, and five orcs wielding massive axes burst forth.
"Chwiik! Humans! Meat!"
Their killing intent pricked his skin. Hans nocked an arrow and shouted.
"Big brothers! Prepare for battle—!"
His cry died weakly. The uncles had not even drawn their weapons; they were yawning broadly.
"Well now... they're already showing up. How troublesome."
Kane, the swordsman uncle, spat while chewing a blade of grass. A battered longsword hung loosely at his waist.
"Chwiik! Die!"
The lead orc raised its axe and charged. To Hans it seemed to move in slow motion—the deadly blade about to cleave Kane's skull.
"Look out!!"
The instant Hans screamed, Kane flicked his wrist as though annoyed. He did not appear to draw his sword; he merely waved his hand as if swatting a fly.
Thud.
The charging orc's head fell cleanly away. The cut was so precise that not a drop of blood splattered. The headless body stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing at Kane's feet.
"......?"
Hans rubbed his eyes. What had he just witnessed? Sword aura? Aura? Nothing so flashy. Only an impossibly swift, concise slash.
"Hey, what are you doing? Deal with the rest."
Kane said while picking his nose. The pot-bellied uncles behind him sluggishly lifted spears and shields.
"Aigoo, my back. What a pain at our age."
Despite their grumbling, their movements were those of killing machines. The shield-bearer deflected an orc's charge with ease; the spearman drove his weapon straight through its heart. Clean, perfect coordination.
Ten seconds. That was all it took to annihilate the five-orc scouting party.
Hans's jaw nearly hit the ground.
"Big brothers... who exactly are you?"
These men were no mere B-rank adventurers. At minimum A-rank—perhaps even greater monsters hiding in the countryside.
Kane dusted off his clothes and answered indifferently.
"Who we are doesn't matter. Just old men retired and passing the time."
He approached Hans, who shrank back in fear. Kane's rough hand settled on his back.
"By the way, kid. Your archery posture is terrible."
"Pardon...?"
"Your shoulder blades are too closed. You can't draw power like that. Here—relax this spot."
Kane pressed firmly on Hans's back muscles.
"Ugh!"
"There. Open it up and draw. Use your back, not your arms."
In a daze, Hans adjusted his stance as instructed and released the string toward a nearby rock.
Piiyung—
Kwaang!
The arrow did not merely embed itself; it split the rock cleanly in half and buried itself deep within.
"Whoa..."
Hans stared at his hands. The power was at least double what he normally produced.
These uncles... they're the real deal.
His heart raced. It was a tip no academy instructor had ever taught him in three years—perhaps because he was a commoner. A single word of advice, and a rock had split apart.
I need to get in line. If I grab hold of this lifeline, my life might actually go somewhere.
He had resigned himself to living and dying as an extra, but under these men he might at least reach supporting-actor status. Hans immediately changed tack. He adopted the eager gaze of an A-rank soldier who had once monopolized an adjutant's favor during his past life's military service.
"Big brother! No—Master! Please teach me! I'll do your laundry, cooking, massages—anything!"
Hans bowed deeply. Kane grinned.
"Haha, this kid's got potential."
Without realizing the sinister plan lurking behind that smile, Hans bowed his head in gratitude.
Ludel village, in front of the security headquarters. Mana-stone streetlamps flickered to life one by one, wrapping the village in evening calm. That peaceful atmosphere was torn apart as a luxurious carriage glided to a stop. The door opened and Cecilia stepped out. Though dressed in civilian clothes, the sword at her waist and the sharp aura radiating from her entire body could not be concealed. Passing villagers instinctively gave way.
"Halt."
Karen, who had been on patrol, stepped into her path. Silver plate armor met long coat. The two women's gazes clashed in the air.
Zzirit.
Experts recognized experts. Karen sensed it immediately—this woman was no ordinary person. She carried the scent of a capital elite.
Cecilia likewise assessed Karen.
For a rural guard captain... her presence isn't bad.
"An outsider? What business do you have in Ludel?"
Karen asked matter-of-factly.
Cecilia lifted her chin proudly.
"I've come to find someone."
"Who?"
"The greatest man in the empire."
Cecilia's answer brimmed with conviction. To her, the empire's greatest man could only be her master, Kane.
But Karen's mental filter operated differently.
The greatest man in the empire? As expected... Hans's reputation has reached even the capital.
The authority on turbid energy emission, the sage of mana. To Karen, the greatest man was Hans.
Karen crossed her arms and snorted.
"Hmph. You've got an eye for people. But you've wasted your trip."
"What?"
"That man isn't here right now. He's gone into the deep mountains to train and reach a higher realm."
Karen had conveniently reframed Hans's escape under the guise of a subjugation request as a true warrior's path of self-cultivation.
Cecilia's brow furrowed.
Training? Did Master run away from me again?
She clenched her fists.
"Do you know where he went?"
"Well. Let's just say the northern forest."
Karen kindly pointed the way. While more rivals were troublesome, she considered it a knight's generosity to provide information to someone who recognized Hans's greatness.
"Thank you."
Cecilia gave a brief nod and boarded the carriage.
"I'll chase him to the very end. This time, I won't let him get away."
Her eyes burned with obsession.
Karen watched the carriage recede and nodded to herself.
"As expected of Hans. To already have a fan club like that."
The two women's conversation had been a perfect case of cross-talk. Yet their destination was the same.