The Summoning Name
The skeleton's suspicions about Eden's lineage were entirely reasonable. [Could he possibly be of giant blood?]
"No."
[Or perhaps a descendant of demons...]
Eden scowled. What the hell is this guy on about?
The skeleton made no effort to hide its surprise. [Then he's truly just an ordinary human? Unless something drastic happened to humanity itself while I slumbered?]
But the rest of the party was utterly mundane. The only exceptional one was that single barbarian.
[...Well, fine then.]
The skeleton tried to adopt a nonchalant tone as it continued. [You've passed the trial. Congratulations. That means you're qualified for a reward.]
The one who reacted with shock to those words was Cotton, peeking out from behind the paladin.
"Reward...?"
[Indeed, a reward.]
The skeleton's empty gaze turned toward Cotton. [I've assessed myself quite objectively. A wizard of middling talent, at best. Certainly not the sort to leave a mark on history.]
A bit harsh self-assessment, Eden thought, glancing down at the steel statue he'd toppled. It was a formidable thing—no ordinary warrior could have scratched it, let alone endured for ages.
To Eden, it seemed the work of a highly skilled mage.
[So I devised a plan.]
The skeleton's hollow eye sockets swept over the group. [If I'm no hero destined for the annals of history, then I should simply hitch my wagon to one who is.]
The skeleton raised its bony arm. Dust cascaded from its frame.
[Congratulations, hero! In my eyes, you possess the prowess to etch your name in legend! What do you desire? Gold coins? Jewels? Or perhaps a magical artifact?]
Cotton’s eyes lit up at that. "Gold or jewels, you say?"
[Yes, or even all of it.]
"Kya, must be that great wizard vibe—talk about big leagues. This is a total jackpot."
Visions of a grand mansion danced in Cotton's head, complete with dozens of servants.
But alas, his dreams were not to be.
[Gold, jewels, treasure! Or perhaps...]
Crack!
The skeleton's skull split open mid-sentence—from the axe Eden had hurled.
It was a massive axe, one that required both hands for any normal person to swing. The blade was enormous accordingly, cleaving straight through the skeleton's cranium and the chair it sat upon.
"......"
Cotton gaped at the sight, a hollow wheeze escaping through his rotten teeth.
He turned his head in jerky, mechanical motions, spotting Eden with his remaining axe slung over his shoulder.
Overcoming his shock and terror, Cotton blurted the question—too absurd to hold back.
"...What the hell was that?"
A perfectly nice skeleton offering treasure freely, and he'd smashed its head anyway?
Eden shrugged it off. "Don't negotiate with spell-slingers."
And with that, Cotton thought, This guy's completely nuts.
024. The Summoning Name
"No, that guy was offering treasure!"
"Calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down in this situation...!"
"Unless you want a smack."
"......"
Cotton clamped his mouth shut. One look at Eden's twitching muscles brought his wandering sanity back home.
Anyway, Eden hadn't thrown the axe just because he hated spellcasters. Though he couldn't deny that played a part.
He decided to explain the situation as he saw it, as kindly as possible—hard to ignore the balding middle-aged man with tears welling in his eyes.
"Offering treasure to some hero just to get your name in history? You really think that makes any sense?"
If Eden were an ordinary gamer, he'd have left a scathing review on the quest writer: Spouting bullshit.
It would've been more believable if, like Cotton first suspected, it was scheming to steal a living body.
But Cotton hemmed and hawed, still grumbling. "...Still, you never know."
"I was gonna smash it from the start anyway."
"The skull?"
Eden nodded, and Cotton shot back in disbelief. "Then why even listen to the damn thing? Why not just cleave it on sight?"
That was gamer habit—listening to quest dialogue. But Eden didn't explain that part.
He scanned the surroundings. After pulverizing the skull, he'd worried the steel statues might reactivate—thankfully, nothing stirred.
Cotton sighed at Eden's vigilance. "...Sigh. I was just spectating, so I got no room to talk."
His get-rich-quick dreams shattered.
And Fran, having watched it all, focused elsewhere. She eyed the axe embedded perfectly in the skeleton's head and murmured in admiration.
"That's the size of a proper two-hander, yet you nailed it on the throw. Long handle must've made it tricky."
She turned to Eden. "Any reason you don't use dedicated throwing axes? Or shorten the handle for ease?"
She'd traveled with him for days, seen him fight goblins and trolls, but hadn't realized he was this strong.
"Or wouldn't a sword or hammer suit better? With your strength, an axe seems cumbersome."
Eden pondered his answer. It was his weapon from the start of the game. Ordinary gear couldn't withstand a barbarian's power. He'd even named them out of fondness.
In the end, the simplest truth: "Too lazy."
Honest, too. He'd already invested in the [Axe Mastery] trait.
He added, "Besides, there's a hero who fought with an olive branch. An axe is fine."
"...A hero like that exists?"
Yeah. Heracles.
Of course, not in this world.
Among the listeners, only Neb caught the joke.
"The one draped in lion skin, right?"
"Man, there's all kinds of weirdos out there."
Their banter might've continued.
[Impressive.]
Until the skeleton's voice echoed again.
All eyes turned to the chair atop the stairs. The axe still jutted from its head, motionless.
Yet the voice persisted. [To become a hero great enough for history, overwhelming ability matters... but sound judgment of the situation is even more crucial, I'd say.]
Even with an axe in its skull, the tone was serene. [With this, you've passed the final trial.]
"So smashing the skull counted?"
"......"
It had, but Eden stayed silent. One more axe to finish it?
[But a hero like you has no need for my meager talents. ...Still, I can offer a small aid.]
The skeleton grasped the axe in its own skull. [Warrior, what is this artifact's name?]
"......?"
Eden tilted his head. In-game, "Barbarian's Twin Axes." He'd named them himself, nothing fancy. People named cars back home, or castaways named volleyballs "Wilson."
"Kimbap."
"...?"
Neb cocked her head at the name, but Eden ignored her and named the other.
"And Ramen."
He'd agonized between kimbap and kimchi. Food he'd craved most upon arriving.
The skeleton nodded. ['Kimbap' and 'Ramen.' I don't grasp the meaning, but fine names.]
A blue glow flickered along the axe. It wrenched free and flew back to Eden, spinning at hurling speed.
His dynamic vision tracked it perfectly. He caught the hefty haft.
...No way?)
His heart raced at the faint possibility.
[I am Desideros of Abandi. May these names linger in your mind each time you wield them.]
The skeleton's form crumbled to dust.
Eden sensed the "presence" in the space vanish.
And it wasn't just the skeleton. The red gem on the statue's chest disintegrated too.
"No...!"
Cotton's horrified cry rang out.
"M-My gem...!"
He collapsed in despair. Eden patted his shoulder in vague comfort—his strength made it more like jolts.
"That statue's steel alone weighs a ton. Grab that at least?"
"...How the hell do I carry that?"
Cotton wore a conflicted grimace, visions of jewels taunting him.
Emboldened somehow, he pouted at Eden. "...Didn't you say something?"
"What."
"Y'know, no negotiating with spell-slingers. But you didn't mind it enchanting your axe."
"Hm."
He hated spell-slingers, but handy spells? Fine.
"A good spell-slinger's a dead one."
"What?"
Time for a test. Eden gripped an axe and hurled it at the wall.
BOOM! It embedded deep.
He'd thrown the right-hand one, so he mentally called, Ramen.
Do I have to say it out loud?
The axe quivered.
Whoosh!!
"Eek!"
It returned at matching speed. Eden caught it.
Magical returning axes. Perfect.
But then, trouble.
The wall crack gaped wider where the axe had been yanked free. Rocks tumbled from the ceiling with a heavy rumble.
"...Bro?"
Eden ignored Cotton, muttering to himself. "Yep, evil spell-slinger. Rigged the ruins to collapse. Desideros... Better bail."
"No, you just smashed it!!"
Eden tuned him out. Mage's fault anyway.
* * *
The party returned to the village first. With the village's issue resolved, they figured a meal at the tavern before heading to Mordelan proper.
"Still, we got history here—lemme treat to somethin' tasty. Tavern grub's solid."
Eden smirked faintly at Cotton leading the way. As if it's not eternal stew.
Then they bumped into the village chief, loading a cart—prepping to sell gems in the city.
"Hm?"
The chief eyed Cotton quizzically. "Weren't you gone for good?"
"Huh? What're you on about? My gear's still all in the village..."
Sensing doom, Cotton cut off and bolted for the tavern.
"......"
The tavern stood empty. No signs of life.
The lone remaining barkeep eyed Cotton. "Forget somethin'? You lot left in such a hurry."
Cotton went speechless.
Forgotten? Everything.
He pieced it together. Boss dragged off by paladin and barbarian. Remaining underlings. Abandoned gear.
Even Cotton had to admit, sticking around would've been idiotic.
But being ditched? Unacceptable.
"Those fucking bastards..."
Eden quietly shook his head at Cotton's muttered curses.
Classic medieval—robbed in broad daylight.