The Burden of Karma (12)
I’ve been feeling the weight of the word karma a lot lately. Who could have guessed that the grand chain of events starting with Yesugei would loop around and lead straight to today’s living hell? I wanted to scream “enough already,” but thanks to Odin’s Eye’s penalty, I couldn’t even speak. For a full hour I fought for my life in complete silence.
Why didn’t I just turn Odin’s Eye off? Easy to say when a wooden sword is flying at your face every single second. The moment I disabled it, my predictive combat vision vanished and I got absolutely pummeled. Fuck. You only put a steel core in your practice sword, you bastard. It hurts so much I want to die.
〈Good work, sir!!!!〉
Maybe it was because I’d thrown my whole body into providing entertainment. The moment the spar ended, I stood there pretending to be a cool Kitai warrior while my legs trembled like a newborn calf. The knights watched me with eyes full of respect and immediately brought me a cup of water.
Did I even do anything for these guys?
Still, when they offered, I accepted and drank. The moment I cooled it with Freezing Hand, they started showering me with praise—amazing, incredible, you’re a genius. Ah, right. This is basically a portable refrigerator. They don’t have anything like this on Earth. I learned it after paying a few copper coins. Want me to teach you guys? Wind-attribute tech is nice, but ice tech is pretty sweet too.
Learning it hadn’t been a loss since it brought me closer to mastering Aura, but when that wooden sword sliced straight through the thin mana coating, I genuinely regretted not stopping by the Ulster tribe’s village on the way back to ask for advice. If I’d just asked that tattooed albino warrior to show me some sword dance moves, I could’ve avoided this whole mess. When people are cornered, their thinking really does narrow. The elite scholar inside me is crying.
The knight commander, having wiped away his sweat with a refreshed expression, spoke up.
It was clearly me who had first suggested this training session so I could pick up a few tricks. So why did it feel like he was the one who came out of it refreshed and enriched, not me? Still, if I honestly told him I hadn’t gained much, he’d probably suggest another round after dinner, so I modestly replied that it had been very helpful and I was grateful.
Thinking a wooden sword would be less dangerous than a real blade is a mistake. If your father beats you with a club and you gasp, “Ah! It’s better than a kitchen knife!” that doesn’t mean you’re optimistic—it means your brain has been overtaken by madness from the beating. The eldest son of a prestigious Senate family didn’t hold back just because it was practice. The fact that I didn’t faint or die was already a victory.
Knight Commander, I really have gotten stronger. I’m either your equal or just a little below you.
As I licked my lips while assessing his skill, he studied my face and asked,
At my half-hearted excuse, the knight commander burst into hearty laughter.
I answered with a mix of humility, hoping he wouldn’t put any more pressure on me. But he asked with genuine curiosity,
When I first saw Signatio, I thought she was a warrior on a tier above Mithril Class. That impression hadn’t been far off, and in the end, she had looked stronger than Nefertiti—who had been my personal benchmark for Mithril Class. Though that was only judging combat ability, not overall evaluation.
Hmm…?
The knight commander folded his arms as if he’d heard something strange, then snapped his fingers.
What?
I blinked in surprise at the unexpected humility. This knight commander was a master on par with Signatio or Diabolo. I could guarantee it—I was the one who took every hit. And I had judged those two to be a step above even Nefertiti. This was my evaluation after witnessing all their skills firsthand. There might be some margin of error, but I wasn’t wrong.
That was why I had assumed they were all either the rumored Master Class warriors or masters standing on the threshold of that realm.
I thought the reason the knight commander was so obsessed with enlightenment was because his growth had stalled just a few steps away from the next stage. Was I mistaken?
I tilted my head. The commander kindly offered further explanation.
Even listening to it, the statement was absurd. It was an assessment that turned ninety percent of the warriors in this world into pathetic, sub-middle-class trash. What the hell? Some kind of Aura-user humility scam? Or was he just someone who knew modesty too well? Was he the type to go around asking, “I’ve only been learning the sword for a month, but mana is coming out of it. Is that good?”
He touched the sword at his waist as he spoke.
I recalled that the place where this unspoken rule first began was Romania. I had learned it while translating ancient texts back at Carmine University. As one of the most advanced nations on the western continent, Romania held enormous cultural influence. Being an ancient and storied country, more than half of this world’s culture and technology originated from Romania.
Even Britannia copied their public bathhouses and colosseum culture from Romanian policy.
And above all, Romania was the nation that founded the Mages’ Guild. In other words, it was the very birthplace of modern magic—the system created by revising ancient rune language. If the Mages’ Guild hadn’t developed a new magical framework, humanity in this world—sealed off from rune magic—would have remained nothing but grunting warriors. Technological progress would have completely halted after ancient civilization, leaving the world stuck in medieval stasis.
In terms of cultural influence, the only country that could rival Romania was probably Germania. Those two nations were like the twin engines driving modern civilization in this world. The East’s Kitai, the nomadic elf nations, Narmer-Nile and Sumeria, and even the man-eating lands of Azteca—none had completely escaped their influence.
After thinking that far, I returned to the main topic.
The knight commander raised his index finger.
—*Twitch.*
My ears perked up at his words. I had mentioned it several times before: starting from Platinum rank and above, the Adventurer Guild Union itself decided promotions. It was something I had heard during the sewer patrol on the day I first met Tirsi.
They said the exact promotion conditions were an industry secret known only to them.
I had heard that their evaluations were especially harsh toward people belonging to other organizations—the Mages’ Guild, the archaeological community, and so on—but I didn’t know what criteria they used to determine whether someone could be promoted. I recalled that one of the points they nitpicked was what kind of requests the adventurer had completed so far. That was why even Tirsi, a former noble lady, had taken on the role of team leader for a group assignment and crawled through sewers. She wanted to set a precedent that adventurers weren’t just profit-driven mercenaries.
The chaotic golem incident I experienced shortly after arriving was a perfect example. If that counted as a Mithril Class request, then in a world where such events happened frequently, powerless commoners would be better off hanging themselves. At least that would be a peaceful death.
The knight commander gave a bitter smile, as if he himself didn’t quite believe his own words that it was “simple.”
Just hearing it described was enough to make the task feel impossibly distant.