From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 1
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 1
Berak was the youngest of seven siblings, the fourth son born into a serf family where going hungry was the norm.
The moment he turned five, he had to start getting his hands dirty.
Unfortunately, Berak was sickly.
He coughed often, and under the blazing sun he quickly ran out of breath. He would collapse to the ground in the middle of transplanting seedlings.
Whenever that happened—
"Lying down again, you damn brat."
"Who's going to eat less for your sake? Get back up this instant, Berak!"
His father, and his older brothers too.
They treated him like a broken tool.
Those days went on.
From the age of eight, he was dragged into full-fledged farm work rather than odd jobs, and young Berak could only barely endure.
And so, at ten.
That day was the same as any other. Sun, sweat, abuse, hunger. Without realizing it, he lost consciousness and collapsed.
But the outcome was different.
"...Hey, he won't wake up."
"He won't even open his eyes. His body is burning up......."
Berak did not wake for a full day.
He was breathing, but his eyes stayed shut. Tormented by fever, he muttered nonsense over and over.
His family had already picked out a spot on the hill behind the house to dig a grave.
But he survived.
Miraculously.
After that day, Berak was not the same as before.
Something... was strange.
He had only done something utterly familiar. Picking out stones.
The stones came up every year.
Every spring, before plowing the fields.
Over the winter they pushed up out of the soil as if sprouting.
From small stones to large ones,
he spent all day bent over. Toss them into a basket, bend again. Tedious repetition.
The only difference this year was that the work began at the tail end of winter, when his fingertips were still freezing.
All Berak had heard was the village chief saying spring was early this year. He did not really understand things like a baron's order to move up the planting.
Berak had collapsed in the cold and been gravely ill, but no one showed him any consideration. The next day he had to go back out and pick up stones again.
A stone half-buried in the dirt scraped his palm as it came loose. After moving just a few stones, the thin skin peeled away. The sting lasted only a moment. Soon the feeling was gone.
Much of the ground was still frozen, so he had to pull his straw shoes out of the mud with every step. He ran out of breath faster than usual.
Every time he bent over, his back felt like it would snap. But whenever he tried to catch his breath, a shout came as if on cue.
"Berak! You're slowing down again!"
When he had barely finished the exhausting day's work,
something appeared before Berak's eyes.
「Stamina + 1」
「Dignity - 1」
Berak could not read. He had never learned to write numbers either. He was simply startled and bewildered.
The strange things flickering before his eyes vanished quickly. He could only think he had seen things.
But that was not the case.
The next day too.
「Stamina + 1」
「Dignity - 1」
And the day after that.
「Stamina + 1」
「Dignity - 1」
After finishing the grueling farm work, the letters would pop up as if to welcome him.
Even without asking, he sensed that this was happening only to him. Berak told no one. He figured nothing good would come to a ten-year-old serf who stood out as strange.
It was not a reasoned judgment. It was closer to the instinct for reading situations he had picked up through years of abuse.
That was why, though he was curious about what the letters meant, he kept it buried and did not step forward.
As the days passed, Berak's curiosity began to be answered little by little—though not by learning to read.
At first it was a small question.
That day, he did not cough.
His throat felt dry, but the dry cough that usually boiled up from inside did not burst out. He thought nothing of it. One day like that could happen.
But after that day, it continued.
The coughing did not come. That alone made Berak breathe an inward sigh of relief. He remembered the days of crouching in the grass to avoid his brothers' and father's eyes, holding his breath and stifling his coughs.
Just no longer needing to do that made life a little, just a little, easier.
Feeling his body grow lighter came even later.
While carrying a basket and moving stones as usual, he suddenly felt puzzled.
He had moved this much, yet he was less out of breath. His back ached, but it was a weight that would normally have made him collapse long ago. His legs trembled less too.
'...Why?'
He could not know the reason. But his body was clearly changing.
He became fully certain of it a few days later.
In the afternoon, when everyone was worn out, Berak kept going to the end without sitting down midway. His pace was a little faster than usual, but no one noticed. No one paid attention.
But Berak himself knew. This was something he could never have done before.
That day too, the letters appeared without fail.
「Stamina + 1」
「Dignity - 1」
At some point Berak began to memorize those letters. He did not know a single meaning, but he took them in whole. Whatever they were, it was certain they were something good.
His body hurt less than before, felt lighter, and could endure better.
Probably.......
'That... might mean "get sturdier."'
At some point, when he went outside at dawn, Berak no longer held his breath the way he used to.
'Will those letters appear today too? When today is over, can I get a little sturdier again?'
A small hope he could tell no one.
It was still hard. His back was soaked with sweat, and there was never a moment's rest before the long sun set.
But.
At the end of every day, those strange letters appeared without fail.
They, at least, were not a lie.
Berak gradually came to believe that something was accumulating even within these hard days.
And so the seasons slowly changed.
When water began flowing along the paddy ridges, he turned the sluices and plugged the gaps in the mud. The dried rice seeds sprouted and went out into the paddies. Rice planting began, and grueling labor followed.
As the rainy season approached, Berak had become noticeable around the village. As if he were an ox, he showed no signs of tiring even after turning the soil and hauling loads all day.
So his brothers and father often tried to push heavier loads onto Berak. But every time, Berak collapsed into the mud.
His body had certainly changed. But only in endurance. His strength had not increased.
His father could not understand how Berak, who did not even sweat properly, could not lift heavy things. He would snap at him to stop faking, or raise his hand.
But Berak did not suddenly gain strength. Instead, his father decided to use him in a different way.
Berak was the first out to the fields and the last to return. He even helped with the work of other households' serfs.
His father always made a point of saying something in front of the villagers.
"These days that boy can run all day without a problem."
Whenever he said that, the villagers really did call on Berak more.
Serfs were not complete slaves. Within the village they had a measure of standing and dignity. His father used Berak to bolster his own.
Staying in the overseer's good graces was a bonus. A reputation that "that household is diligent" meant reduced corvée labor and fewer punishments.
The reason Berak could endure labor close to overwork was, again, thanks to the letters that appeared every day.
No, not every day. At some point they began appearing about once every two days. On the first day the letters did not appear, Berak's heart sank, and the next day he sighed in relief.
In the past he would never have questioned his father's orders. But lately, such thoughts came to him sometimes.
'Why is it only me? This isn't right.'
And the thought that naturally followed.
'...Could I run away?'
Those words lingered in his mind for a long time. If he walked on and on beyond the mountains, could he get somewhere? It felt like he could walk forever without tiring. He even imagined it.
But soon his mind went blank.
Where to? What would he eat? He did not know the roads at all. What about at night? What would happen if he was caught?
So for now, Berak decided to watch quietly. To see how much more his body would change. How long those strange letters would follow him.
There were some improvements, at least. He was no longer picked on by his brothers.
"Moving slow again, you idiot."
In the old days he would have flinched and hunched over. But Berak simply adjusted his grip on the carrying frame straps. Then he raised his head and looked his brother straight in the eye.
"Then do it yourself."
He spoke quietly, but his brother definitely heard him.
His brother's face twisted. "You little—!" he snarled, even raising his hand.
But Berak did not so much as blink. Just as when he first raised his head, he looked at his brother without wavering.
A brief silence. In the end, his brother couldn't bring himself to strike and turned away.
After that day, Berak was not hit by his brothers again.
It was not only his body that had changed. His mindset and attitude were changing too.
Perhaps the realization that he was different from others had touched something inside Berak.
Or perhaps the letters that appeared every time were not simply making his body healthy.
Even with such thoughts in his mind, Berak's days still passed the same as ever. And before he knew it, winter was approaching again. He had turned eleven.
* * *
[Stamina: 248]
[Dignity: 0]
At first the letters appeared only after the farm work ended. But one day, Berak suddenly thought.
'Can I see them now too?'
The moment he brought it to mind, the letters really did appear before his eyes.
From that day on, Berak summoned those letters whenever he had a spare moment. He could not know what they meant, but just watching the shapes change little by little was fascinating.
The top line always changed, but the bottom was always the same.
As always, Berak began his day by checking the letters the moment he opened his eyes. But today there was something different.
Around morning, a strange man entered the village. He wore a leather outer garment fastened with iron buttons. At his waist hung a solid rod. People called him a "forest warden."
"He's here, right?"
The man stopped directly in front of Berak's house.
"The boy who doesn't collapse no matter how long he works, I hear."
The voice came from beneath a rough beard. His father pushed Berak forward as if he had been waiting.
"Yes. This is the one."
Berak felt the forest warden's gaze slowly sweep over him.
"I'm taking him to the forest. A new logging camp's been set up, so he'll be put to use there."
Berak did not resist. The thought of being separated from his family crossed his mind, but his chest did not ache and no tears welled up.
If anything, he even felt a little lighter. A place without his brothers' stares or his father's shouting...... even if it was the forest, could it be worse than now?
Only his mother and sisters flickered through his mind. But not enough to hold his steps.
On the first day, Berak was not given a large axe. Felling the big trees was the work of grown men.
Berak was assigned to cut the branches off fallen trees.
He was weak, so cutting a single thick branch took several times more swings than anyone else.
But he did not stop. Berak raised and lowered his hand over and over.
Then at some point.
His arms stopped obeying. He was not tired, yet his hands trembled so much he could not grip the axe handle properly. The axe blade kept glancing off the bark after biting in shallowly.
Still, Berak did not put the axe down. His strength was gone, but he kept trying to strike the branches without stopping.
A laborer watching him clicked his tongue.
"That brat's stubborn, all right. Most kids just collapse when they realize they can't do it."
Soon another laborer burst out laughing.
"Axe work's not for him. Hey, stop hacking at that and go move the small branches."
The words were rough, but no one called Berak lazy. The sight of him trying to hold on to the end despite lacking arm strength had left an impression.
And so evening came, and he headed toward the log hut where he would sleep from now on. The damp smell of earth and the scent of pine resin stung his nose. At that moment.
「Strength + 2」
「Dignity - 2」
Familiar letters, but with a shape somehow changed, appeared before Berak's eyes.