The Paladin Who Rode a Giraffe (3)

Aris, the Goddess of War, had not forsaken him.

So believed Ludwig, paladin of Eldorado.

The Forest of the Four Seasons was, as expected, nothing short of a living nightmare. A three-headed lion had lunged out of the brush at one point; a bizarre, ridiculously long-necked beast had crossed his path at another. Monsters of every bewildering shape and form prowled the wilderness. Worse yet, their raw martial prowess was utterly terrifying. The truly absurd part, however, was that the herbivores somehow proved vastly stronger than the carnivores.

Taming that long-necked creature had been a stroke of sheer divine providence. While his good fortune had hardly lasted without interruption, it had at least intervened at the most decisive moments.

"……."

Ludwig stared down at his heavily bandaged ankle. Below the joint, where his right foot ought to have been, was completely gone. Without a prosthetic, walking would be a grueling ordeal from here on out. Still, losing a limb was infinitely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠better than rotting to death from sepsis.

'I was fortunate the blade was so remarkably keen.'

Amputation was a delicate, harrowing procedure. Under ordinary circumstances, it would have required agonizing minutes of sawing through bone. Gulping down strong spirits for anesthesia had carried its own lethal risks, yet he had possessed no alternative if he wished to stave off hemorrhagic and neurogenic shock. The agony of having flesh and bone severed ranked among the most horrific pain a mortal could endure; not even Ludwig, hardened veteran that he was, could have weathered it stone cold sober.

'And having more Elixirs on hand was another blessing.'

The success of surgery lay not merely in the cut, but in the closing. It was a mercy that Grylls possessed a generous supply of Elixirs. In the worst-case scenario, they would have had to cauterize the ragged stump with red-hot iron. Surviving all of these compounding horrors had to mean that Goddess Aris still watched over him.

'An impressively tidy cave, regardless.'

Ludwig surveyed the interior. With a proper hearth and neatly arranged supplies, the space felt remarkably cozy. At present, Grylls had headed down toward the riverbank to dispose of the severed, necrotic foot. Ludwig’s strength was utterly depleted and his leg was in ruin, making absolute rest his sole priority.

'A single day later, and I would have been a corpse.'

Spotted across the river by Grylls, Ludwig had dared to kindle a flicker of hope. Yet hope was a fragile thing when the opposite bank could shift biomes without warning. And so he had remained vigilantly in place, consuming only the barest minimum of rations needed to draw breath. His mount had managed to endure by grazing on tall tree canopies, but Ludwig was no grazer. From the moment maggots began writhing in his flesh, he had lost nearly all mobility. Hunting had been out of the question, fishing an impossible dream; he had sustained his beating heart on pure, unyielding grit.

'There was a bridge, and the signposts guided me straight here.'

Thanks to those crude markers and the crossing, he had quickly confirmed this was the bank where he had seen Grylls. Spotting them on the verge of losing consciousness, he had wrung out the last drops of his life force to cross over. Had it not been for his long-necked companion, even that final push would have failed. For the foreseeable future, that gentle beast would serve as his legs. Until he adjusted to his mutilated body, Grylls's aid would be indispensable.

'Judging by the name Grylls, I had assumed he hailed from the West.'

Based on his Gallery handle alone, Ludwig had pictured a Westerner. Yet face to face, the youth was unmistakably a man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the Central Plains. Beneath an unkempt beard, he looked surprisingly young. While Ludwig had scraped by at death's door despite decades of arduous martial training, this youth was actually *living* here—building, crafting, thriving.

'He said he could manipulate mana, too.'

The Forest of the Four Seasons strictly rejected the conventional use of mana. Ever since entering this boundary, Ludwig had strained desperately to channel his energy, only to realize its absolute impossibility. Had it not been for the mystical sword Grylls had sent him through the void, he would have perished dozens of times over. It stirred intense curiosity within him: just how had this young man survived? And more than that…

'What in the world are those creatures? Familiars? Pets?'

A sloth clinging leisurely to his back. An owlbear cub trotting obediently at his heels. And a towering white gorilla collared with a metal suppressor. He could not even begin to fathom the logic behind such an entourage.

'If only I had accessed the Gallery sooner.'

Ludwig had connected to that extradimensional forum for the very first time just moments before stepping into the forest. Gathering comprehensive intelligence in such a frantic span had been impossible; receiving that sword had been a miracle in itself.

'If nothing else, that sloth is profoundly unusual.'

There was an old adage that the strong instinctively recognized the strong. Though Ludwig had never breached the absolute pinnacle of swordsmanship, his tactical eye was exceptionally refined. After all, one of his former pupils had been crowned a Hero. In his experienced eyes, that sloth exuded an aura that defied common sense. In a lethal death trap where every living creature trembled in survival frenzy, that little beast appeared completely at ease. In a realm where death could strike from any angle without warning, such nonchalance was terrifying.

'Or perhaps the youth named Grylls is a peerless monster himself.'

He could unravel those mysteries in time. For now, recovery took precedence. His body had only barely pulled back from the precipice of death. Fortunately, he was still capable of initiating his basic Mana Cultivation Method, which offered some solace. Even so, the flow was painfully sluggish. The suffocating, primordial atmosphere of the forest pressed down incessantly, as though his mana were forced to crawl through an impossibly narrow aperture.

'Escape… might be impossible.'

Ludwig exhaled a heavy, sorrowful sigh. Surviving this forest was a monumental feat for the able-bodied; now he had lost his right foot entirely. At this rate, he would be nothing more than an insufferable burden to Grylls.

'Perhaps it would have been better if I had simply died….'

Beset by consecutive disasters, bleak thoughts inevitably clouded his mind. To become a parasitic weight rather than an asset wounded his pride, but more than that, it filled him with profound guilt. Even if Grylls decided to throw him out into the cold, Ludwig was prepared to accept it without complaint. Remaining here offered no benefit; he was merely an extra mouth to feed.

"I'm back."

Just as Ludwig's thoughts spiraled into dark corners, Grylls returned from disposing of the gangrenous foot. Resting against the stone wall, Ludwig turned his head. A solid, dependable-looking young man stood before him. He bore the unpretentious, approachable features typical of the Eastern continent.

'Why would a youth like him be cast into the Forest of the Four Seasons?'

The question gnawed at Ludwig. This forest was a dreaded exile ground reserved exclusively for political purges or the most heinous felons. Judging by his countenance, he resembled the former far more than the latter. Given the selfless benevolence and hospitality he had displayed, the probability of him being a vile criminal was virtually nonexistent.

'Did he fall victim to some aristocratic power struggle?'

Ludwig braced his hands against the floor to rise, his strength marginally restored by the brief mana circulation. But Grylls rushed forward, waving his hands in alarm.

"Just stay down! Why are you trying to stand when your leg is in pieces?"

"……."

The foreign syllables of the Central Plains dialect rang in his ears. Though he couldn't comprehend the specific words, the tone carried a strange, heartfelt warmth that struck a chord deep within him. Ludwig obediently sank back down. In this shelter, Grylls was the master and absolute authority. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠For an old soldier forged in rigid discipline, obeying the master of the house was second nature.

'Now, what should I do with him?'

Meanwhile, Grylls was wrestling with his own concerns. He had no intention whatsoever of tossing the man out. This was his first human guest in over a month. In an isolated hellhole like this, a fellow human being was an invaluable treasure. Even with a lost foot, as long as they could establish communication, it was fine.

'I’d love to fit him with a prosthetic leg, but…'

He had already consulted the dwarf on that matter, asking if an artificial limb could be forged. The response had been that while not strictly impossible, it bordered on unfeasible. When pressed on the reasons, the dwarf had listed too many complications to count. The paramount issue was precision fit. A prosthetic leg required millimeter-level customization to the individual stump. Unlike an arm or a hand, a leg bore the entire weight of the human frame; an improper fit would cause excoriating pain and reopen surgical wounds. Furthermore, current forging arts could not replicate a functional knee or ankle joint. There was a reason why most amputees on this continent relied on crude wooden pegs.

'I can figure out the foot later. Getting him healed comes first.'

Only moments ago, Ludwig had resembled an unburied cadaver. Now, a faint flush had returned to his cheeks and his breathing was stable. Holding a conversation should be well within his capacity. Even if vocal tongues didn't align, Grylls had the Gallery interface to bridge the divide.

'Things I need to ask…'

His name and allegiance. The circumstances behind his entry into the Forest of the Four Seasons. And intel regarding how he had survived inside the perimeter. Once those baseline facts were established, they could discuss their cohabitation moving forward.

Curiously, she hadn't explicitly refused ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to come. Grylls found the response peculiar, but brushed it aside. He carefully copied down the translated script provided by the head admin onto clean parchment and presented it to Ludwig. Ludwig read through the lines and gave a firm nod.

"My name is……."

"Ah, hold on a second."

Grylls held up a palm, signaling him to pause. Ludwig complied instantly. As established, Grylls held supreme authority here. Tapping his interface, Grylls activated the Gallery's video recording function, then gestured for the knight to proceed.

"My name is……."

And with those words, yet another catastrophic bomb was detonated.

"Phew……."

Selena let out a long, weary sigh laden with deep exhaustion. The aristocratic gala following the succession ceremony had been predictably grueling. Though no steel had been drawn, it had been a vicious, cutthroat bloodbath in all but name.

'I could barely bring up Mr. Grylls at all.'

Her failure to achieve her primary objective left a bitter taste. Because the matter was intimately intertwined with the extradimensional Gallery, attendees were exceedingly cautious about raising it in public. Furthermore, with mounting real-world crises demanding immediate attention, the focus of the nobility had drifted entirely toward mundane political posturing.

'At least His Majesty responded favorably.'

It hadn't been an entirely fruitless venture. An unexpected, colossal figure had shown genuine interest: Emperor Arnold himself. A tremendous catch. While the emperor noted that mobilizing direct state-level backing might prove diplomatically delicate, he acknowledged that the mysterious survivor held immense investment value. Though Arnold claimed to have gathered his intelligence through covert imperial networks, Selena saw right through the veneer. Arnold lurked on the Gallery regularly and understood Grylls's habits all too well.

'Now that the Emperor has signaled his favor, information will spread swiftly.'

She simply needed to bide her time. Selena gazed outward from the terrace. The cool night air offered an ideal sanctuary for quiet contemplation, prompting her to open the Gallery window during this brief lull.

The instant she logged in, she was greeted by absolute pandemonium. It had been less than six hours since her morning check-in.

'What happened?'

Puzzled, Selena navigated directly to the Hall of Fame. Right at the top sat a thread created by Grylls, commanding an astronomical upvote count. She clicked it without hesitation.

Selena possessed fluent comprehension of the Holy Kingdom's dialect. Though her physical body had withered, her brilliant intellect had remained razor-sharp. As she listened to the words flowing from the mouth of the paladin named Ludwig…

'……Good grief.'

It contained vile atrocities that shattered the boundaries of imagination. This wasn't merely tossing a spark into the powder keg that was Eldorado. It was hurling a Molotov cocktail—no, calling down an apocalyptic Meteor. With this revelation circulating across the Gallery, the physical realm was bound to be convulsing in uproar.

Startled, Selena closed the interface and stepped back into the grand hall.

"……What happened? Where did everyone go?"

Save for a sparse handful of attendees, the opulent ballroom was completely deserted. At this point, liveried servants and maidservants vastly outnumbered the aristocracy. As Selena stood frozen in bewilderment, a familiar figure sauntered over.

"They all scrambled out, claiming urgent matters required their attention."

It was Ash. Meeting her languid gaze, Selena blinked. It was frankly more shocking that Ash was still lingering here. Yet Ash, too, was fully cognizant of the storm that had erupted.

"Whatever disaster just struck…… shouldn't you be heading back to your estate as well, My Lady?"

"……And what about you, Count?"

"Me?"

Ash shrugged lightly, extending her half-filled wine glass with an airy grin.

"All I have to do is go home and sleep."

A shameless declaration that, as an unemployed loafer, global affairs were none of her concern. Selena felt momentarily dumbfounded, but a soft chuckle escaped her lips.

"I envy you."

And so, while a geopolitical nuclear warhead detonated across the continents…

"Hey! Damn it, man! You just got here, how are you already causing trouble?!"

"I did not do this! It adhered to me of its own accord!"

"I have no idea what you're babbling about! Just pull with all your might!"

Back in the depths of the forest, Grylls was breaking a furious sweat, struggling desperately to pry Ludwig free after the paladin's severed ankle had mysteriously fused solid to a raw vein of mithril.

"Just what did you even do to get yourself glued to it?!"

"I swear by the Goddess, I have no clue!"

Though not a single word was understood, the sheer absurdity of the predicament carried their conversation perfectly.