This Living Hell (2)
He certainly doesn't do anything by halves, Rece thought to herself as she stared at Ludwig's post.
Creating a Fixed Nick the moment he logged on was bold enough, but he had actually registered under his real name. Considering that once created, a Fixed Nick could never be altered or deleted, it was downright staggering. Yet what left her truly dumbfounded was the fact that he had attached a full face reveal to authenticate himself.
Most people satisfied identity checks by scribbling their handle and date on a scrap of paper, but Ludwig had bluntly showed his actual face to the entire forum.
"...Commander."
"Speak."
"You do realize your face is pretty damn famous out there, don't you?"
If he were an ordinary nobody, this might have passed as a minor blunder. But Ludwig was a martial artist through and through, a pure-blooded knight who knew next to nothing about the Gallery. While others had at least picked up rumors about it in passing, he had dedicated his entire existence solely to the way of the blade. Under normal circumstances, his countenance would have been recognized only within the Holy Kingdom—and even then, strictly among the ranks of the Holy Knights.
"I hardly believe it is known to such an extent."
"You showed your face during the Hero's desertion incident! Ever since then, practically everyone on the continent knows who you are."
"Is that so? I seldom read the newspapers."
"Haaah... Look, the milk's already spilt. At least write something in the comments to explain yourself."
Following the Hero's desertion, Ludwig had been dragged squarely into the public eye. As the martial instructor who had trained the Hero and imparted all manner of knowledge to her, he was accused of planting subversive ideologies in her mind, allegedly prompting the Goddess's ominous prophecy. The authorities had dragged him before a public tribunal, plastering his likeness across every press outlet on the continent. Between sensational headlines and exhaustive testimonies, he had become an involuntary celebrity overnight.
Still, is it really wise to post like this? There are bound to be people monitoring the Gallery in real time.
Rece cast a discreet glance out the carriage window. The investigation team was not composed of Holy Knights alone; a substantial retinue of support staff had been assigned to accompany them. "Support," of course, was merely a polite euphemism for a surveillance unit dispatched directly by the Pope to ensure none of them stepped out of line. Those overseers certainly wouldn't abstain from browsing the Gallery. By now, they had almost certainly seen Ludwig's post.
Scratch, scratch.
Meanwhile, Ludwig was quietly scribbling something in a pocket notepad. He stared intently at the slip of paper for a moment before tucking it away. Watching his deliberate movements, Rece refreshed her interface and navigated to the post Ludwig had just uploaded.
Will this suffice?
He had laid out the entire situation in broad daylight. Rece swallowed a hollow, bitter laugh. Yet what did it matter? It was already an open secret across the realm. El Dorado's so-called investigation team was nothing more than a political purge packaged as a ceremonial deployment.
I really miss Asella right about now.
In moments like this, her thoughts naturally drifted to the Hero. Asella was earnest, principled, and disarmingly innocent, yet razor-sharp when it mattered most. Her uncanny ability to deliver devastating, incontrovertible truths with a gentle, beaming smile had always been a marvel to behold.
"Hmm..."
"..."
"Oh?"
Ludwig, who had been quietly perusing the Gallery interface, suddenly let out a low rumble of surprise. Rece hurriedly refreshed her own screen to see what had caught his eye, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Just as her brow furrowed in bewilderment, an anomaly manifested around Ludwig.
Fwump!
"Huh?"
It was a sword—a plain, dull silver longsword resting abruptly across Ludwig's lap. The weapon had materialized out of thin air, which could only mean one thing: Grylls had sent him a gift.
"Oho."
Curiously, Ludwig seemed far more fascinated by the phenomenon of a physical object crossing dimensional space than by the blade itself. Rather than inspecting the weapon, his eyes widened at the mere fact that it had arrived so seamlessly. His reaction resembled that of an elderly father encountering high technology for the very first time.
"...Commander? What on earth is that?"
"A man named Wild Grylls bestowed it upon me. He told me to use it to make my way to his location."
"..."
With that dingy thing? Rece gave the weapon a deeply skeptical once-over. To the naked eye, it looked thoroughly underwhelming; an ordinary standard-issue steel broadsword appeared far sturdier.
"Did he mention what kind of sword it is?"
"I cannot disclose that. He requested that it remain confidential."
"..."
Does it possess some hidden enchantment? Rece tilted her head, uncertain. Still, the fact that Grylls's gift had landed in the hands of Ludwig van Erold meant the surveillance unit wouldn't be able to strip it from him easily. Technically speaking, they were an official investigation team, not chained convicts.
Screeech—
Shortly after Ludwig received the blade, the heavy carriage ground to a halt. Normally, a carriage stopped for only one reason: to let the passengers and horses rest. Yet they had taken a break barely half an hour ago. That left only a single, dreadful conclusion.
"We have arrived! Everyone dismount!"
They had reached the boundary of the Forest of the Four Seasons. Rece squeezed her eyes shut, dread pooling in her stomach. She didn't want to get out. She didn't want to take another step forward. Walking in there was a death sentence. A tempest of frantic thoughts raged behind her temples, but the turmoil vanished the moment she saw Ludwig gripping his new sword, preparing to disembark.
She fixed him with an imploring gaze: Are you truly going to obey them so meekly?
Ludwig met her eyes for a fleeting second, then turned his head away. It was a silent refusal to answer. Rece let out a defeated sigh.
This is bitterly disappointing...
Ludwig could be stubborn and rigid, but he was never entirely devoid of practical judgment. Had he truly bent his knee to corrupt authority, or had despair simply broken his spirit? Forcing her turbulent emotions under control, Rece stepped out into the crisp air.
Outside, the Holy Knights of the doomed expedition and the Pope's surveillance unit stood side by side, their eyes locked on the horizon ahead.
"So that is the place."
"..."
Before them lay the legendary entrance to the Forest of the Four Seasons. From the very threshold, it bore no resemblance to the natural world. Shimmering curtains of brilliant, multihued light—auroras typically witnessed only in the most extreme, freezing polar wastes—draped across the sky, completely encasing the perimeter.
Beyond that celestial veil lay a patchwork of impossible, contradictory biomes crammed against one another. In one sector stood withered, skeletal trees stripped of life. Right beside it stretched an endless, scorching expanse of barren sand. Overlapping the dunes was a frozen mountain range battered by howling, merciless blizzards. And immediately adjacent to that frostbitten hellscape lay a tranquil, remarkably mundane woodland.
This was precisely why it was dubbed the Forest of the Four Seasons. The instant one crossed that boundary, there was no predicting where they would land, nor was there any path back. It was a shifting, living labyrinth from which no soul ever returned.
"...It's damn beautiful, I'll give it that."
"..."
Ludwig offered a quiet nod to Rece's bitter assessment. Beneath that breathtaking spectacle lay an unfathomable abyss—a realm that defied magic, science, nature, and biology alike.
"My, my. It has been quite some time since I last visited this perimeter, but the view remains undeniably magnificent."
As the Holy Knights took in the ominous panorama, a smug voice drifted from behind. Rece whipped around to face the speaker.
"To think such an exquisite vista conceals an absolute living hell. Is it not poetic, in a sense?"
A round, oily face framed by chubby cheeks and an insincere, smiling mouth. A squat, portly frame perched atop short legs. Between his flat nose and droopy eyelids, raw, unabashed greed practically oozed from every pore.
"...Archbishop Odon."
Rece narrowed her eyes, spitting his name like a curse. She made no effort to mask her disgust; there was not an ounce of cordiality in her expression. It was hardly surprising. Odon was the Pope's quintessential bootlicker, an unscrupulous political hound serving as the commander of the surveillance unit sent to shepherd them into the abyss.
Clank—
As the Archbishop waddled forward, his personal escort of Holy Knights fanned out in tight formation. Unlike Ludwig and Rece, whose faces were bare, these men wore heavy, visor-down helms. Their faceless silence radiated a suffocating pressure, specifically arranged to suppress any thoughts of rebellion from the condemned investigation team.
"Now, now, Lady Rece, do not wear such a sour expression. Should you refuse this sacred mission, His Holiness would be terribly displeased."
"Bullshit."
"Heh, as foul-mouthed as ever, I see. That fiery tongue has always been one of your most charming traits."
Odon's lustful gaze wandered over Rece, prompting her to scowl even more ferociously. Despite her cropped brown hair and striking, androgynous appearance, Rece possessed an undeniable, arresting beauty. Her sharp, distinctive features drew admiration from men and women alike, but radiant blossoms inevitably attracted foul insects—and Odon was precisely such vermin.
"I'd rather plunge into that forest this second than look at you. Back off."
"How regrettable. It seems my desires got the better of me."
"..."
Rece snapped her head away, unwilling to spare him another breath. Yet even as the venomous exchange unfolded, Ludwig remained motionless, his gaze fixed solely upon the shifting auroras of the forest. Odon was not one to miss such an opening. Gliding quietly toward the veteran commander, his eyes locked onto the unfamiliar longsword held casually in Ludwig's grip.
Ludwig's standard weapon remained firmly sheathed at his hip. This foreign blade was brand new. Odon pieced the truth together instantly: it was the gift from Grylls. After all, monitoring the Gallery was standard procedure to ensure no members of the expedition leaked sensitive state secrets.
"Sir Ludwig. I truly never expected a stoic man like yourself to partake in the Gallery."
"..."
"Well? How does it feel? Do you feel inspired to execute that wretched subversive hiding within?"
Instead of offering a verbal reply, Ludwig turned his head to meet Odon's gaze. The sheer difference in stature forced Ludwig to look down from an imposing height.
"And that sword... it was bestowed upon you by that very agitator, was it not?"
"It was."
"Then surrender it to me at once. Since it is contraband provided by an enemy of the faith, it is only proper that it be confiscated."
It was blatant sophistry. Grylls was no political agitator; he was merely an innocent survivor fighting for his life who had stumbled across the hidden truth of the realm. Even if he harbored ulterior motives, the authenticity of the records he revealed was beyond dispute. But to El Dorado, he had already been branded a dangerous heretic.
"..."
Ludwig stared down at Odon in contemplative silence, then slowly extended the blade toward the Archbishop. A triumphant smirk spread across Odon's fleshy cheeks. Just as Rece's fury was about to boil over, reality warped in an instant.
Grab!
"Huh?"
Instead of releasing the weapon, Ludwig's calloused hand clamped down like a vise around Odon's reaching wrist.
WHOOSH!
"Aaaaargh—?!"
With one smooth, explosive pivot, Ludwig hurled the portly Archbishop through the air, sending him sailing straight into the shimmering boundary of the Forest of the Four Seasons.
Odon's escort knights recoiled in absolute horror, lunging forward in a frantic attempt to catch him, but they were far too late. Odon breached the luminous veil of the aurora and vanished completely into the chaotic wilderness. It had happened so fast, executed by the revered commander himself, that no one had possessed the presence of mind to intercept him.
"What have you done?!"
"Do you think you can walk away from this alive?!"
The surveillance knights drew their blades in unison, steel scraping loudly as they leveled their weapons at Ludwig. Behind him, Rece and the rest of the investigation team immediately drew their own arms. Sudden though the act had been, none of them failed to grasp Ludwig's intention.
"Commander! We're making a run for it, right?!"
"Phew..."
At Rece's shout, Ludwig released a heavy, weary sigh. He cast one final glance back toward the glittering boundary of the forest and muttered under his breath.
"I had planned to spend my retirement quietly tilling the fields..."
"Commander!"
"It seems I must sow a very different kind of seed today."
Uttering words known only to himself, Ludwig turned to face his accusers. The Pope's surveillance forces outnumbered their doomed investigation team more than two to one, completely cutting off their vanguard. Behind them was the deadly Forest of the Four Seasons; before them stood an army of fully armored pursuers. It was a skirmish without a shred of hope.
Yet Ludwig showed no sign of despair. He settled his grip firmly around the hilt of the sword Grylls had sent him.
[Rece. I will carve an opening through their ranks. Break through the perimeter and find Asella.]
In that razor-thin instant of absolute stillness, Ludwig's voice rang with ringing clarity. It did not travel through the air; it resonated directly inside her skull. It was Sound Transmission, a profound martial technique wielded only by the continent's apex masters. Stunned by the mental whisper, Rece stole a frantic glance at his towering back. What about you, Master? What will become of you?!
[Do not concern yourself with me. I shall attend to what must be done.]
With those words echoing in her mind, Ludwig began to stride forward. In his hand, the plain silver sword underwent a breathtaking transformation. A resplendent emerald luminescence rippled across the metal, sparkling like a swirling galaxy of viridian stardust. The brilliance alone cast an ethereal, hypnotic radiance across the entire clearing. What had seemed like a tarnished, worthless hunk of iron mere moments ago was now vibrating with terrifying divinity.
"What... what is that sword?!"
"Stay on guard! That is the heretical weapon provided by the agitator!"
One of the knights who had overheard the previous exchange shrieked the warning. The truth that Grylls had supplied Ludwig with an artifact was now laid bare before them all. Yet none of that mattered. Rece's eyes remained glued to the viridian galaxy dancing along the steel.
It really is an extraordinary blade, isn't it...?
SHIIING—!
The moment that thought crossed her mind, Ludwig unleashed his inner power. Unlike the chaotic, bloated bludgeon manifested by a certain unrefined survivor, the energy coalescing around Ludwig's weapon took on a crisp, razor-sharp form. It was the hallmark of a true master: an Aura Blade.
Yet the scale of the manifestation was utterly unhinged. Under normal conditions, an Aura Blade formed a tight, focused energetic skin that extended only slightly beyond the physical edge. What erupted from Ludwig's sword, however, transcended the dimensions of a longsword entirely, swelling into an immense, luminous greatsword of devastating proportion.
"C-Commander... what in the world is that...?"
The ambient pressure radiating from the blade was suffocating. It felt as though merely brushing against the swirling emerald light would shear flesh and bone into fine mist. As common martial wisdom dictated, expanding the physical volume of raw aura was grossly inefficient. But that principle applied strictly to crude projections; an Aura Blade was a completely different discipline. The sheer scale and density of a manifested blade were direct reflections of a swordsman's martial vessel and power.
By all rights, this signified an incomprehensible breakthrough in Ludwig's mastery, but...
"...I do not know."
"Pardon?"
"I know not. What on earth is this?"
Even Ludwig stared at his own weapon with a thoroughly unsettled, perplexed expression.
"Frankly... it is rather frightening."
"..."
Hearing the legendary Holy Knight commander admit his own terror with absolute, deadpan sincerity left Rece utterly speechless.
Meanwhile, across the boundaries of space, Grylls was busily toiling within the depths of the forest.
"Cough! Hack! Ugh, damn it, that stings! Why did I even bother checking the kiln right now?"
He had spent the better part of the afternoon clearing timber to produce a massive stockpile of charcoal.
Well, if I ever need another sword, I can just forge one.
Steel was steel, and tools could always be replaced.
Still, who the hell is that guy for the Juddak to personally beg me to send him a weapon?
A mild spark of curiosity flickered through his thoughts.
I suppose I'll just ask him myself whenever he makes it to my shelter.