Debut
"Jun."
In the guild's underground sparring arena, Carol pushed her way through the dense crowd packed around the ring and approached him.
He had braced himself for a scolding over stirring up unnecessary trouble. Instead, the face that met his was perfectly calm.
Just in case, Jun dipped his head and offered an apology.
"Hello, Carol. Sorry for causing a scene first thing in the morning."
"It's fine. I already expected something like this."
"You did? How?"
"It's always like this whenever a Stigma holder arrives."
At that, Jun glanced toward Tatsu, the self-proclaimed walking encyclopedia on Stigma holders. Tatsu nodded as if to confirm she was right.
"So you don't need to apologize, Jun. The ones who should be apologizing are the adventurers picking fights with Stigma holders — and the Merchant Coalition egging them on."
"The Merchant Coalition?"
"A pack of bastards who only ever think about fleecing adventurers for everything they're worth. For reasons I don't fully understand, they've made enemies of Stigma holders like us. Trichi and every other idiot who's picked a fight with a Stigma holder so far has been bankrolled by that group."
"They have zero interest in humanity's future — only in immediate profit. They're the main reason prices in Lemumni are so outrageous. I'd love nothing more than to wipe them out completely, but we don't have solid grounds, and they've got strings pulled in every direction. We can't touch them."
Tatsu and Carol made no effort to hide their open hostility toward the Merchant Coalition. Watching them, Jun found himself thinking of something from five years ago.
Jun.
Are you thinking about that merchant too?
Yeah.
Apparently he wasn't the only one the memory had stirred. The fact that Fortuna had landed on the same recollection only deepened his suspicion.
Is there really a connection?
Five years earlier, the family of Primuni Village's former chief — the man who'd been dismissed for embezzling village funds — had moved to take revenge on Jun. A merchant from Lemumni had helped them. Because of that, Jun had nearly died at the hands of the mercenaries they'd hired. Surviving by sheer luck, he had sworn to become strong enough that no one like them could ever touch him so easily again.
Even now, five years later, he still couldn't understand why that merchant had risked retaliation from the Church just to attack him. Hearing the two of them talk, a thought took shape: maybe the Merchant Coalition had been the ones pushing that merchant from behind.
Jun mulled it over for a moment, then decided there was no point stewing alone. He laid the whole thing out for them honestly. It wasn't a secret that needed protecting, and he was no lone-wolf protagonist who had to shoulder every problem by himself. When something came up, you solved it with the people around you.
You're not just saying that because you hate fretting by yourself, right?
When times are hard, people help each other. That's how it should be.
Most wise and proper, my lord.
It was an unflattering answer, but Fortuna and Dohwa both smiled with quiet satisfaction. Having lived long enough to watch countless heroes try to carry every burden alone, they knew exactly how those stories ended.
"There's a real possibility…!"
"I think so too. Jun, be careful. Whatever else their goals might be, one thing is certain — they want to obstruct the labyrinth conquest. That means they'll actively target someone like you, who's going to play a major role in it."
"I'll be fine. Don't worry."
Carol's warning was sincere. Jun only smiled, as if to tell her not to fret. Had he heard the same advice at this hour yesterday, anxiety might have left him shaking. Not now.
After all, he had —
Don't worry, Jun. You have us.
— a fortune-bringing angel who could intercept sudden ambushes and fatal blows, and —
My lord, meeting every enemy head-on is not always the wisest course.
— a divine beast who could open an escape route for him anytime, anywhere.
So he had no reason to bow his head in fear, or to tremble and hide. If anything —
"The ones who need to be careful aren't me. It's them."
— the ones standing against him would be the ones forced to lower their heads, shake, and hide. Even if the enemy seemed overwhelmingly strong for now, as long as he never stopped imagining and never stopped working, he would obtain it without fail.
The power to punish any foe.
"Ahh… Jun, you're so cool."
"…Here. The item you requested."
Jun's quiet confidence painted Carol's face a vivid red, like a sheltered girl falling for her first love. Right on cue, Yuna — who had gone to collect Firmus from Pirbyon as requested — bowed with formal respect and held the sword out to him.
"Look, uh… I hate to bring this up at a moment like this, but are you not worried about the duel at all? Trichi acts like a third-rate thug, but his actual skill is Green-rank. Wait — why am I even the one saying this?"
Tatsu raised the point with a mix of exasperation and genuine concern, but unfortunately, not a single person in their group shared it. After five years of endless fights against assassins, Jun was confident he could win even against an equal. Carol and Yuna, who had read Kate's report on him submitted to the Church, were certain he would take this duel with ease. Only Tatsu, who knew nothing of those five years of hardship, fretted over Jun the way one frets over a child holding a gun. For once, he found himself desperately missing his little sister — the professional contrarian.
"Hey! You gonna fight or what?! Get up here, you little shit!"
"Someone's impatient."
Was he that desperate to hand over his gift already? Jun snorted a quiet laugh, slung Firmus over his shoulder, and stepped up into the arena.
"Pwahaha! No wonder you were eyeing my sword. What the hell is that crude hunk of metal? Looks like someone gave up halfway through forging it."
The moment Jun entered the ring, Trichi took one look at Firmus and burst into raucous laughter. A few of the surrounding adventurers joined in with jeers of their own. Jun paid them no mind whatsoever. The opinions of pathetic fools obsessed with appearances meant nothing to him.
Perhaps that unshaken composure got under Trichi's skin. With a flourish, he drew the sword at his hip as if putting it on display.
"Listen up, newbie. This — this is what a real sword looks like."
A longsword whose mysterious wave-patterned steel called to mind Damascus blades from a previous life. Runic characters etched down the center of the blade only deepened its dreamlike presence. On looks alone, it was certainly a sword worth boasting about. Its performance wouldn't be lacking either — one glance was enough to tell it was a magic sword with enchantments built in.
Jun already had Firmus, an excellent blade in its own right, but his combat style involved using a variety of weapons. He couldn't help the greedy glint that entered his eyes as he looked at it.
"See? Eyes lighting up, aren't they? Want it, don't you? Then go ahead and beat me. Not that it's possible even if the sky splits in two. Still, I'll do you a special favor and tell you the name and ability. I'm a generous guy, after all."
With that, Trichi raised the sword high. A low hum rolled from the blade, and its glass-blue steel flushed an unpleasant green. Was it just his imagination, or did the sword's cry sound almost like a scream?
"This sword's name is Sil-iens! And its ability is—!"
A fierce wind coiled around Trichi's blade. The pure white of the wind followed the steel and stained itself green as well.
"The power to command the wind!"
He swung as he shouted. The wind wrapped around the blade shot forward as a cutting edge aimed straight at Jun.
Already combat-ready, Jun slipped past the wind blade without difficulty. But the instant it grazed past his head —
"Boom."
— Trichi made a playful little explosion sound with his mouth, and as if answering the cue, the wind blade detonated. Green-tinged wind swallowed Jun whole.
"Oh no—!"
"How's that newbie poison taste, huh? Real electric, right? Bet it is — that's my special-blend poison, cooked up with my own psychic power. Don't just stand there spaced out — give us a review! Kyahaha!"
"It's over."
"Called it."
"What good are extra cores if you don't know how to use them?"
Tatsu went pale. Trichi howled with laughter. The watching adventurers clicked their tongues as if the whole thing had been a waste of time. Their reactions differed, but every last one of them believed the duel was already decided. And why wouldn't they? The special poison Trichi produced with his psychic ability was infamous even among adventurers for its viciousness. This was only low-purity toxic mist, so the potency would be reduced — but Jun would still be suffering under it for the entire fight. How many stacks of Trichi's poison could a newbie endure?
Just as the crowd's attention shifted that way —
A heavy whoosh of steel cut the air, and the toxic mist blanketing Jun scattered in every direction.
"…Huh?"
"His face—"
"He looks fine?"
The anti-facial-recognition function built into Jun's mask made it hard to see his features clearly, but even allowing for that, he showed no sign of poisoning whatsoever. As if to prove the point, he crooked a finger and beckoned Trichi forward.
"How does it taste? Bland. So bland I almost didn't realize it was poison. That all you've got? Bring out something real."
"You little shit. Fine. Don't come crying to me."
Trichi immediately activated his psychic ability and cranked up the poison concentration on the blade. The steel turned a thick, sticky black. Originally he'd dialed the dose down to something that would leave a man bedridden for a few days — just enough to break the kid's spirit. That restraint was gone now.
Fuck it. Live or die, not my problem. Worst case I sit in a cell for a few days.
Black wind blades flew in rapid succession. Every time Jun slipped past one by a hair's breadth, it detonated without fail and sprayed toxic mist. Before long the entire sparring arena was completely smothered in black poison fog.
Just as Trichi was about to settle into a warm glow of satisfaction, fulfillment, and relief —
A crack of brilliant blue electricity flared inside the pitch-black mist.
Something was burning.
"Shit—!"
The instant Trichi realized what that something was and spat the curse, the blue current raced outward along the toxic mist itself. A radiant azure dragon opened its jaws wide and savagely chewed the pitch-black darkness to pieces. The dark vanished in moments; only the acrid stench of scorched air remained to prove it had ever been there.
"Wh-what the hell…"
"Pathetic."
"…What?"
"I said you're pathetic. You've been swaggering around all this time with that level of skill? Have some shame."
Jun emerged looking no different than when the duel began, and tore into Trichi in a voice stripped of all emotion.
Trichi ground his teeth hard enough to crack them. Shame and humiliation flooded through him. He wanted nothing more than to punish the bastard who'd just insulted him on the spot. But —
Looking into those endlessly cold blue eyes that seemed to hold a thunderstorm, and at the living current thrashing around him, he couldn't bring himself to move.
"Hey, scrub. Scared? Don't just stand there — come at me."
"You son of a bitch!"
The next insult shoved the fear aside and let rage take the wheel. He still had one card he trusted.
I'll cut him down — sword and all!
Sil-iens's cutting power ranked among the absolute best of Silver-grade weapons. Wrap the edge in wind, and it could rival even Gold-grade blades. If their swords met, that crude hunk of metal would be cleaved straight through — and the brat along with it.
Steel rang.
"…Huh?"
That was what he'd believed. Reality refused to cooperate. The crude sword blocked Sil-iens without the slightest trouble. No — if anything —
An ominous grinding sound started coming from Sil-iens, as if the blade itself were about to shatter.
"Can't have that. That's going to be my sword now."
Current poured from Jun, racing along Firmus and Sil-iens straight into Trichi's hand.
"Ghk—!"
Pain like his insides being seared dry forced Trichi's fingers open. Sil-iens clattered free.
"I'll just borrow this for a bit."
Jun's hand shot out like a bolt of light and closed around the hilt.
"Give it back!"
"Relax. Let me take it for a spin first."
He kicked the foam-mouthed Trichi away, then raised Sil-iens high and poured aura into it.
The blade sang out as if cheering. The blackened steel recovered its clear, pure blue. Then a wind far beyond anything Trichi had ever produced — a gale like a full-blown typhoon — coiled around the sword. Blue lightning layered itself on top.
The lightning storm that resulted —
"Holy shit!"
"Run!"
"Hey! That's not fair!"
— was so close to a dragon's breath from legend that it sent a primal terror through every person watching the duel. The fear Trichi felt with that thing pointed at him needed no description.
"Hey, scrub. Get ready."
"S-spare me—"
"Don't die on me!"
"Please!"
"Fine."
Trichi flattened himself against the ground, begging for his life in the most pathetic display imaginable. Looking down at him, Jun graciously granted the request. One clean strike here and the man was bound for the afterlife without question. Jun didn't particularly care about that — but he had no interest in the messy cleanup that would follow.
The lightning storm wrapped around the blade lost its center and shattered into fragments. Even those mere shards made the mana barrier surrounding the arena shudder as if it were about to collapse.
"Eek!"
"Watch out!"
"Mages! Reinforce the barrier!"
Trichi's eyes welled with tears. Jun drove Sil-iens into the floor right in front of his face and spoke.
"Your sword's pretty damn good."