The Princes' Doubts
The two princes stared at the Sword Saint's retreating back for a long while. Even though his opponent was a prince, the fact that the man had only said what he wanted before leaving suggested either a complete lack of manners or that he had learned nothing worthwhile under the Sword Saint. Of course, neither of those things mattered to the two princes.
If it had been Schwald, he would have thrown a fit, but this was the Hero Festival after all. The two princes were open-minded enough not to fuss over etiquette at an event where all sorts of people gathered. They had never met the Sword Saint Decaron in person, but if his disciple was already like this, just how extraordinary must the master be?
“By the way, brother.”
The first to speak was the younger brother, Leon. He had sensed something about the person known as the Sword Saint’s disciple. Whether it was the Sword Saint’s taste or the disciple’s own preference, he wasn’t sure, but the armor was designed to reveal the body’s curves quite blatantly. Looking at it, Leon had suddenly realized something.
“What?”
“That figure… I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”
“It’s true that the hips and the areas that show off the body are covered in black leather, but…”
“You really are a man, brother.”
“I am a man to begin with. That’s not what I meant. I was just thinking that the armor looks surprisingly good, and I was curious what kind of leather was used for the layer underneath that wraps around the body. It has a bit of a dragonhide feel to it.”
“Do dragons even have hide?”
“If you strip away the scales, there’s hide underneath. Were you simply savoring the female form?”
Leon shook his head. As expected, his brother was that kind of person. Sometimes he really needed to reach into other fields of interest. Having only ever heard that scales could be used to make armor, Leon had just gained some new, utterly useless knowledge.
“It wasn’t just the figure. That was only one thing. Doesn’t that voice sound familiar to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“And that hair color too. It’s quite rare.”
That indigo hair. Didn’t it remind him of a certain someone? Yes. The true daughter of the Holpert family. Similar voice, indigo hair, and figure. Of course the armor covered most of it, but what if it were removed? Leon was quite sharp about such things, so he found himself curious about the face hidden beneath.
“So what exactly are you trying to say?”
“Well… I heard that the Holpert young lady has gone missing recently.”
“The Holpert young lady… Ah. You mean Milene.”
“Yes.”
Heintz turned his gaze back toward the coliseum exit where Loen had disappeared. He had said he was looking forward to the duel, but realistically, the finals would be the day the Holy Sword was drawn, so there would be no actual duel. Still, setting that aside… now that he thought about it, it did seem suspicious. Or it could just be a coincidence. But his younger brother Leon had an excellent eye for people. Especially when it came to people he was interested in.
To his brother, the Holpert young lady had been a rather intelligent woman he had taken a liking to. But…
“But Milene doesn’t know how to fight. If she did, she wouldn’t have been treated that way. She would have fought for her honor.”
“No, no. Noble ladies don’t usually fight with swords. They stab each other with words like foxes. If it were men clashing blades and drawing blood, that would be one thing, but women’s fights are far worse than rolling around in the mud getting soaked head to toe.”
“So Milene didn’t know how to fight in the mud, then.”
Leon, who had been quietly listening, let out a sigh. That was exactly the problem. No matter how he looked at it, that thieving cat of a woman couldn’t even compare to Milene. Just what had happened to their older brother Schwald’s eyes? How could he be bewitched by someone like that?
“Would anyone expect their own little sister to stab them in the back?”
“That’s true. So you’re saying that woman could be Milene?”
“The voice was echoing inside the helmet and a bit muffled, but it sounded similar.”
Leon wasn’t completely certain. But Milene’s whereabouts were far too mysterious, and everything seemed to line up strangely.
“Milene really has it rough. To think a pervert like you has taken a liking to her.”
“Please consider it pure love. Still, I’m better than brother Schwald, aren’t I?”
“That’s true. One thing is certain. We need to keep an eye on that woman.”
“Of course.”
Anyway, she was extremely suspicious. And above all, the fact that she had chosen the name Loen—didn’t that suggest some connection to Milene’s maternal family, the Loen house?
After the preliminaries ended, I returned home and began writing.
I wrote down everything I had experienced, imagining how the hero would have handled it, keeping the prose clean and avoiding anything too bloated. Considering the length, the hero’s companions would need to step up as well. After all, the finals—that is, the day everyone would try drawing the Holy Sword—wasn’t far off.
“Wow! This is it! This is exactly it!”
“Is it?”
Jerry was losing his mind with excitement. What was he so worked up about? It was just writing. Had I really written it that well?
“Yes. It’s not overly flashy, just right. If there are too many unnecessary descriptions, readers get tired. Giving them just enough to let their imaginations fill in the blanks is a good approach.”
“Ah, I see. Then this level should be fine.”
“Aren’t you going to write about the Hero Festival?”
Given the subject matter, Jerry seemed to think the background of my novel was based on Glacia.
“Copying the Hero Festival directly wouldn’t be good. I’d have to approach it differently. Besides, the current plot doesn’t call for using the Hero Festival right now. The hero is busy fighting the demon king’s army. We can’t waste time on a festival.”
“That makes sense. Then, do you know who the hero ends up with?”
“Who the hero ends up with? Not yet. Since I’m also writing romance novels, I want to focus this one on defeating the demon king for now.”
“Not a bad idea. So what are you planning to do if you end up drawing the Holy Sword during the Hero Festival finals?”
“No, that won’t happen.”
It would probably be either Heintz or Leon. Even if I really could draw it, there was no reason for me to accept it. Accepting it would mean embarking on that dreadful journey to slay the demon king. People called it the Holy Sword’s blessing, but it sounded incredibly annoying. When would I find time to write? No matter how good my body was, my software wasn’t built for that kind of multitasking.
“Will the demon king’s perspective appear as well?”
“Hm, should it?”
“The demon king’s army situation usually comes through a third party’s viewpoint, but if the demon king’s side gets some proper development, it would be good to show it too.”
There were probably quite a few readers curious about the demon king’s side as well.
“I’m not sure if I can write that part properly yet.”
“Then the only way to do it right would be for Author K to be resurrected as the demon king and become one of the Four Heavenly Kings. Hahaha!”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
After all, the original Milene had been resurrected by a lich and turned into one of the Four Heavenly Kings. Just like how Schwald had failed to become the hero, the possibility of Milene dying and being resurrected by a lich was practically zero. Unless Sophia went completely insane and came to kill me, there shouldn’t be any problems for now.
“I’ve been curious about this for a while, but what exactly is an adventurer slayer? It was mentioned a few times in volume one, but only in passing.”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like—villains among adventurers.”
“Villains?”
“Ah, it means bad guys. Adventurers who kill other adventurers. They exist in real life too, right?”
“I suppose so.”
I had never encountered one myself, but apparently they did exist. They would lure people into dungeons or on quests, stage an accident, kill them, and steal all the loot. Such incidents were reported to the adventurers’ guild. I had adapted that concept into my novel as adventurer slayers. These adventurer slayers would then attack what little human forces remained. They were scheduled to appear properly in volume three, acting as obstacles to the unification of human forces.
In fact, I had briefly considered plagiarizing a successful novel from my old world. But since such novels didn’t exist in this world, it wouldn’t really be plagiarism. The author who told me to create my own life had said so, so it wasn’t a bad idea. Still, there was the matter of personal conscience. As a writer, it didn’t feel right to copy someone else’s work wholesale, even in another world. Taking a little inspiration was one thing, though.
“Even in a world full of nothing but despair, they still allow scum like that to exist.”
“A world of nothing but despair would naturally be rotting from the inside.”
“Exactly.”
A world of nothing but despair and decay. In the end, humanity could barely survive, so they fled from monsters, killing and being killed by each other. That was the worldview of the hero party’s defeat. As the hero gradually secured living space for humanity, those problems would surface, and human forces would try to root out the adventurer slayers.
“Good. Keep pushing forward like this.”
“I will.”
Jerry left looking satisfied. Then, suddenly, Decaron came to visit. It seemed he had watched all the preliminaries.
“Kahahahaha! I saw everything, my proud disciple!”
He wrapped me in a bear hug and slapped my back enthusiastically. Every smack made my whole body rock back and forth, causing my chest to bounce wildly. This man really showed no mercy to women. On top of that, he was rubbing his beard all over me.
“Ugh. Just a moment, Master. The beard… it’s too scratchy. The beard…”
“Amazing. As far as I know, that Urca fellow possesses monstrous strength. To think you blocked his strike.”
So Master knew him too. From the way he spoke, it didn’t seem like a pleasant memory. Hmm. If there was some connection between Master and that Urca guy… I couldn’t think of anything specific. Could they have been master and disciple? Curious, I asked.
“Do you know him, Master?”
“That Urca bastard came looking for me once before. Said he was searching for the strong or something. He wanted to marry a strong woman, so he asked for training and then charged at me.”
“He must have lost, then.”
He wasn’t that strong after all. He probably ran away quickly. He must have been thoroughly beaten by Decaron.
“To be precise, he couldn’t endure the training and ran off. It was a shame. I had finally found someone with a decent body.”
“Between him and me, who is stronger?”
I suddenly grew curious. That guy had been surprisingly heavy. If he had come at me with the intent to kill, putting his life on the line, I might have struggled quite a bit. Honestly, for a former author whose original body belonged to a woman with the talent of a saintess to be able to fight such a giant and win was already an incredible possibility. Still, if someone like that existed, wouldn’t he be helpful in the fight against the demon king?
But the old man named Decaron pointed his finger at me.
“In terms of talent, you are obviously superior.”
“Ah, I see.”
“More importantly, I’m looking forward to the finals. I wonder who will draw the Holy Sword.”
Since the king had arranged it to decide the succession, it was essentially a scripted match. So without any issues, it would go to one of the two princes. Given those two brothers’ personalities, they wouldn’t fight each other over power.
“Hm. It’ll work out somehow.”
“If the demon king appears, the hero will eventually have to step forward, won’t he?”
“Yes.”
That was usually how it went. Or perhaps—and it was a slightly frightening thought—the king had sent both of them just in case. If the Holy Sword was determined by bloodline, even if one died, the other would remain, allowing them to plan for the future.
“It would be nice if you became the hero. Then I could say, ‘The disciple I raised is the hero!’ It would feel like I left behind some achievement before I go, wouldn’t it?”
“Don’t even dream about it. I’m someone who values my life. No, but Master, think about it the other way around.”
“What?”
“You raised a woman whose main job is being an author to the point where she can shine in the Hero Festival! Wouldn’t that alone be enough of an achievement?”
“Hm, that’s true too.”
Honestly, when I first glanced at it, I had felt a tiny bit of greed. But no matter what, becoming the hero was out of the question. That was the protagonist’s job. I was, after all, just the author. Reality and fiction had to be kept separate. I had no intention of grabbing the Holy Sword out of envy for the hero and running around until I dropped dead.