Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The rural territory always looked peaceful.

And at the center of it stood Bellark Castle.

This place was my home now.

Even so, I couldn’t stop feeling anxious.

It wasn’t like there was any immediate crisis.

But I knew this peace was temporary.

If I could just survive until adulthood—around eighteen—then there wouldn’t be much to worry about.

Even if I failed to become strong, I was confident I could at least stand on my own.

The problem was that I might die before even reaching adulthood.

What was my basis for thinking that?

Simple.

The population of the Bellark territory was visibly shrinking.

And the speed of that decline was accelerating with every passing day.

Because of that one fact, it felt like one disaster after another.

I thought I’d finally get to enjoy an easy life after surviving my newborn crisis.

But of course, life never goes exactly the way you want.

A painfully obvious truth, reaffirmed once again.

When I first arrived here, Bellark’s population was well over three thousand.

But now, three years later, it had fallen to twenty-five hundred.

Hundreds of people had vanished in barely any time at all.

What exactly is a territory?

A land ruled by a lord.

But how could a single lord govern such a vast land alone?

Land without enough manpower to make use of it was no different from wasteland.

That was why territory residents were absolutely necessary.

A nation only functions because it has citizens.

A territory is the same.

Without residents, it cannot function.

There is no nation without people.

And a territory without residents?

The same thing.

But the young lord had no justification to stop them from leaving.

“Hello everyone, I’m the captain. If it isn’t too much trouble… would you sailors be willing to stay aboard this sinking ship until the very end?”

No matter how politely Ethan phrased it, that was probably all the residents heard.

Who would stay in Bellark under those circumstances?

Unless they intended to be buried here for life.

And there wasn’t even any merit in doing that.

The residents probably hadn’t started leaving recently, either.

I’d already figured that out long ago.

The exodus had begun before I ever arrived here.

So if Ethan wanted to stop the people from leaving?

The only real option was tyranny.

And the simplest method of all would be suppressing them through force.

Sounds easy enough.

But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it really wasn’t.

Sure, force is force.

A lord technically has the right to prevent people from leaving by force.

But he lacked the power to do it.

A young lord with no foundation.

No standing army.

Only a hundred conscript soldiers, and even they were residents of the territory themselves.

Even if Sir Raccoon drew his sword, could he really control thousands of people?

Let’s say he somehow could.

Even then, it would be pointless.

In a territory with no future, tyranny was no different from hastening its destruction.

In the end, there was no way to stop the residents from leaving.

At this rate, in ten years—five at worst—Bellark would no longer be a territory.

Just a rural village.

And if Ethan failed to come up with a solution?

Then he’d end up living as nothing more than a “farm owner” or “mine owner” with a title attached.

And the silver mine was practically Bellark’s only source of income.

The very thing that kept baby food entering my mouth.

In other words, a place that absolutely had to be protected.

But what happened if the residents continued disappearing?

Then it would become the perfect target for large-scale bandit groups or local warlords.

In any case, it was already guaranteed that my freeloading lifestyle here would eventually come to an end, whether sooner or later.

Things would remain relatively safe while Sir Raccoon was still alive.

But the old man was already at that age where it wouldn’t be strange if he closed his eyes forever at any moment.

Even young people died suddenly for no reason all the time.

So no matter how vigorous he seemed, you never knew.

He could suddenly decline.

Or perhaps an enemy force beyond even Sir Raccoon’s ability to handle could appear.

There were simply too many variables.

Relying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠entirely on Sir Raccoon was too risky.

So what did I need most right now?

Simple.

Guaranteed safety until adulthood.

And someone strong enough to provide that safety.

Ah, before you misunderstand—

I’m actually quite independent by nature.

Meaning I don’t particularly enjoy relying on others.

Even with Ethan, though I was grateful, I still disliked the feeling of owing someone.

But this was a merciless medieval world.

The reason humanity had managed to survive within the law of the jungle shared by most living things was because humans gathered in groups of hundreds and thousands.

On the other hand, a human stripped of infrastructure was naturally exposed to death.

And future me was exactly that kind of human.

Double ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠basic attacks.

Recovering stamina every time I attacked.

Stat points gained whenever I aged.

The abilities I possessed were certainly powerful traits.

But if the one using them was just a little brat, then they meant nothing.

That was why I had to at least become an adult.

Or at bare minimum, reach my mid-teens.

Until then, I’d have no choice but to rely on others.

I had to survive.

It was a decision made for survival.

Whether I used to be an adult or a fighter in my previous life didn’t matter.

This came first.

From my current perspective, wanting someone else’s protection wasn’t shameful.

Considering the unstable state of the territory, it was better to prepare in advance.

But who could protect me right now?

Aside from Sir Raccoon, nobody came to mind.

I’d barely ever left the castle, so my social circle was tiny.

Ethan?

Bella the nanny?

Dajef, the militia captain?

They were all admirable people internally.

There was no doubt about that.

But in the category of martial strength, none of them could really be called powerful.

…Suddenly, I really wanted to be a summoner.

Though that required mana, so it probably didn’t apply to me.

Hmm.

Come to think of it, hadn’t recent trait selections reflected my wishes somehow?

The trait that reduced age-related penalties by half felt influenced by my thoughts at the time.

If my guess was correct…

Then while not guaranteed, there was probably a decent chance traits related to my desires would appear.

Companions.

Or familiars.

Once I came to that conclusion, I spent every day obsessing over thoughts related to them.

I even prayed to the god of the status window.

Please grant me one dependable guardian knight.

I continued that for two whole months.

And then, when I turned three years old…

< Trait Selection! >

The now-familiar small window appeared again.

Swish!

Feeling inexplicably nervous, I hurriedly looked toward it.

What if there wasn’t a trait related to companions?

What if all the options were garbage?

Because my desperation was greater than usual, negative thoughts kept swirling through my head.

The options that soon filled my vision were—

The traits felt oddly plain compared to usual.

Aside from the third option I’d hoped for, they were all pretty average.

Still, the important thing was that my suspicions had been confirmed.

The yearly traits were definitely influenced by my thoughts.

The first option was decently solid.

The second would be useful if life became poor.

But compared to the third, they were insignificant.

Unless I was roleplaying as a thunder god or starving to death, they had no choice but to fall behind in priority.

And so my gaze naturally settled on—

Of course it was the third option.

But that additional explanation seriously bothered me.

It was the very trait I wanted, but what did it mean by a chance of failure depending on my capabilities?

Did that mean the reward was just that great?

Otherwise there was no explanation for such a massive penalty.

There had always been differences in trait quality, but this was the first time I’d seen one with such a huge variable attached.

“…Haa.”

What should I do?

I desperately wanted the third trait.

But the penalty for failure was enormous.

A gamble where I could potentially waste the one opportunity that only came once a year.

Did I really need to take such a risk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when I had safer options available?

“……”

But my hesitation didn’t last long.

Because “safe assets” depended on perspective.

Honestly, it was fortunate the other options were mediocre.

If something like “return your gender to male” or “one-time resurrection” had appeared, I’d probably have stayed awake all night agonizing over it.

And really, human life itself was a gamble anyway.

Fighters like my previous self, businessmen, even ordinary salarymen.

All the same.

Even becoming a civil servant wasn’t guaranteed because exams themselves were variables.

So one gamble wasn’t so bad.

I’d already chosen the unstable career path of a fighter once before, despite success never being guaranteed.

Everyone started with effort as the baseline, so nobody could predict who would rise to the top.

But the greater the risk, the more attractive the reward.

My previous life had proven that.

When an opportunity appears, give it your all.

Even if you fail, don’t break down.

As long as you don’t die, it’ll be fine!

I reaffirmed my resolve and selected the third option.

< You may now select a target for binding! >
< Only one binding target may be chosen! >

< All monsters must be bound within 500 days! >
< The designated Familiar will feel excessive friendliness toward you! >

“Huh!?”

My eyes widened at the unexpectedly large number of options.

Which one should I pick?

But only for a moment.

—Scurry!

I hurriedly grabbed a map from the bookshelf.

“Be… Bellark Fo…rest… Adens Vill…age… Retebein La…ke…”

Could I even realistically reach these places?

That was the first thing I began considering.