Chapter 117
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 117
Chapter Title: The Soul's Promotion Battle
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It was a death march in the truest sense of the word.
Roel was sniffling, Serka was scared stiff, and Custo had started muttering ominous things under his breath. The march continued through an atmosphere that felt like some fairy-tale village from a dream.
This kind of vibe really brought back memories of my army days. The nighttime marches in pouring rain back then had a similar feel. The only difference was that here, there were no reliable comrades I could trust.
"The mood's gone totally sour."
At this rate, it could seriously mess with our quest performance. We'd finally gotten the party back on track, so this was no good.
"Hey, Serka."
"...What."
I called out to her softly, and she turned to me with a face completely drained of color. The party's march ground to a halt at the same time. Custo and Roel trembled as they slowly turned to look at me too.
"Whoa, why are you guys looking at me like that?"
"..."
Come on, did I look like I was about to murder someone or what?
This was so damn unfair.
"Tch, whatever. Looks like you've all snapped out of it now. From here on out, no more judging strangers based on bullshit prejudices like 'barbarian' or 'sword-slinger.' Got it? That's why the vibe got wrecked and we're wasting so much time."
Instead of replying, they swallowed hard and nodded. It wasn't the most satisfying response, but I didn't need any empty apologies anyway. We were already committed to the quest—no point shaking them down for cash now.
Just keep moving forward. That was enough.
"Anyway, we need to lighten up this mood."
"L-Lighten... it up...?"
"Yeah, can't get anything done like this."
Custo started looking anxious. Seemed like he'd gotten some big misconceptions about me, but I wasn't planning to start any real trouble. I've gotta reap what I sow, right?
Since I'd tanked the party's morale, it was on me to pump it back up.
"Hey, Serka. Sing something—anything."
"S-Sing?"
"Yeah."
The fix? Have someone belt out a tune.
I always sang when I was tired, happy, or sad. Even Teacher Seolun's compass pointed that way.
Songs when happy made me happier, songs when sad comforted me, and songs when exhausted gave me strength. That's why I loved singing. It let me forget the harsh grind of this otherworld, if only for a moment.
"I-I don't know any songs..."
"You've gotta know at least one."
No one who'd say that ever actually didn't know any.
I wanted to smack her and call out the lie, but for the mood's sake, I'd hold back.
"I-I'm serious. And I'm bad at singing anyway. It won't even be fun to listen to..."
"Haa, fuck. Fine."
"I-I'll sing! Just calm down!"
Serka cleared her throat with a flurry of fidgeting and struck a pose.
Time to relax and enjoy her performance. Come to think of it, last time I'd made someone sing was back in the army.
"...Here I go."
"Good. Hit it. I'm pumped."
She hummed to warm up her voice and began.
"—Shaking, swaying, drawn by the wisps' glowing threads, who goes?
When a child enters the woods, the harvest festival begins.
Hide your sibling with a mask, or just take the neighbor's kid instead.
Shaking, swaying, wisps' glowing threads—."
The shaky start settled into a calm, low rhythm. Her voice was decent enough for her looks, but the lyrics were total nonsense. They hinted at human sacrifice or something, leaving me horrified.
"What the hell kind of fucked-up song is that? What happens to the kid who goes into the woods?"
A kid lured into the forest by wisp lights kicks off a harvest festival? Sacrificing children for a good crop? Serka averted her eyes at my question.
"...I don't know. It's just a folk song passed down in my hometown."
"Fuck, that's creepy as shit. No more singing from you. Hey! Let's move!"
"..."
And so we resumed the march.
At least singing before starting made it feel a bit better. Midway, Roel flagged out again, so I told Serka to carry him, but Custo stepped up to help.
They could've just rested if they were tired.
In the end, thanks to Roel, we didn't reach the destination until well past noon.
The scenery there was a bit bizarre.
"What kind of plants are these?"
Tall, twisted plants grew in place of trees, giving the place a truly otherworldly mystique. They were utterly alien.
Never seen a spot like this before.
"Roel. This the spot where Conpeito trees grow wild?"
"...Yeah. Not sure exactly, but exploring here should turn some up."
"Got it. Let's head in. Serka, take point and clear a path."
"Right."
Serka pushed ahead at the front, parting the foliage.
We followed the trail she blazed. I put Roel, the expert here, in charge of directions. No chit-chat the whole way—perfect, since these lunatics finally shut up. Nailing the mood control was key. Mad dogs need a good whack with a stick.
To carry them, first gotta make 'em human.
—Rustle, rustle.
—Rustle, rustle.
"Halt."
"Wh-What's... that...?"
Deep in, we heard rustling from something else parting the underbrush. Monster territory, as expected—even at the entrance. We froze and readied for combat.
—Rustle, rustle.
Silence as we focused on the sound.
Not like the open clearing earlier where enemies were fully exposed—no room for slacking in thick brush like this. The noise drew closer, heading our way.
Scanned around, but nothing visible. Small monsters? Goblins? Trolls? Kobolds? Finally, the source emerged.
"Mushroom heads."
—Hiss, hiss. Hiss.
The monsters were quadrupedal things resembling giant mushrooms. They shambled toward us with sluggish steps. Serka clenched her fist and strode forward, ready to smash.
"Hold up."
"Why?"
"Hit 'em and we're fucked. They burst spores when struck."
I'd fought these before.
Didn't know the exact name, but damage them and spores explode from the cap. Gets in your eyes? Burns like hell. Roll around in agony, and other monsters show up—the spores attract them.
Usually just giant bats or other small fry, but who knows what's here. Old memories surfaced.
"So how do we handle them?"
"Grab one and lift it slow."
"You want me to catch this?"
"Yeah."
Without spores, not much threat.
Definitely fought 'em before.
Serka eyed it warily but hugged the mushroom's stalk and lifted gently, like cradling a giant doll.
—Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.
Its weird four legs kicked wildly—mushroom meets spider vibe. I aimed my knife at the base. Stab underneath and slice slow, and it's done.
"Not aggressive, so relax. No big impacts, no spores. Hey, Custo, Roel—grab the others."
"Ugh..."
"O-Okay..."
"Why am I doing this..."
—Hiss! Hiss!
I plunged the knife into the base.
It thrashed hard, but no spores, as expected. Calmly twisted the blade to carve the innards. Fluids oozed. I gouged deep, then pulled out.
"Lower it slow now. Easy."
"...Okay."
Serka set the wriggling thing down.
It hit the ground unable to stand, spilling guts from the hole, twitching until it stilled completely.
"See? Don't touch sketchy shit like that."
"Got it."
We handled the other two the same way.
Listen like this, and it's a breeze.
If we'd started like this, the quest would've been a fun picnic in Teletubby dreamland.
"Serka. Onward."
After that, we just rummaged through likely spots for Conpeito. No wonder the reward was fat—finding stuff like this was a pain.
Especially magic ingredients.
"K-Katt... sir... can we rest a bit...?"
Some time later, Custo piped up. I nodded, and we settled in a decent spot. The constant searching had worn me out too.
"Hm."
Three together might mean scheming, so I pulled Serka to my side. Even if Custo and Roel plotted, her joining in could turn nasty.
"Serka, over here."
Plus, she was the easiest mark by my standards.
"...Some reason?"
"I said come, dumbass."
Plenty of break time—chat to kill it.
I perched on a rock; told her to sit a bit away. Gotta keep some distance.
She fidgeted, avoiding my eyes as I locked gazes. I asked her straight.
"Hey, Serka. Got a question."
"...What."
"Why do you hate swordsmen so much? Did one stab your mom or something?"
Not a low blow—just genuine curiosity. Even in this backward world rife with racism and classism (Earth's no better), her blatant discrimination right in my face was baffling.
Getting pissed at what you can't understand? Natural.
"It's not that... My mom's alive."
"Whore?"
"No, that's—"
"What?"
"...Yeah."
"Skip that. So what's the reason?"
No chance to grill those types before, but now I had one. I'd pry answers from Serka, then hit Roel later.
"Sword-slingers... use swords."
"Handy."
She shuddered, organizing her thoughts, speaking softly. Sounded educated by tone, but the delivery was a mess.
"I've been taught and seen that it's deeply cowardly and against propriety. In reality, the ones wielding swords are pathetic, vile thugs you couldn't look in the eye. Weaklings who think their blade is their power, banding together for banditry. That's why I despise swordsmen."
Hearing this crap so boldly made my head wanna explode. I spat my thoughts.
"Why drag your own story into it?"
"...My story?"
"Your thinking's fucking amazing. Whatever. Keep going. It's fascinating. On purpose?"
TL;DR: Sword users are shitty people, so hating them's obvious.
Seemed rational, but classic "rules for thee, not for me"—dodging her own bullshit. Peak otherworld logic.
"True power means one's own strength, no weapons. Humans should train body and spirit alike. But swordsmen..."
"Spirit training, huh? And you spew insults at a stranger like me? No clue about each other, just prejudice?"
"That's because you..."
I cut her off mid-protest.
Her thinking "good call" after seeing my actions changed nothing.