Ria Velashie

…Time to head back.

The crest seared into my hand without warning. The loaded words that had surfaced in the Status Window. And last of all, the final boss who, for some reason, did not even exist.

I didn't understand any of it. I couldn't understand it, and my head was nothing but a tangle.

The only thing I could do was drag a body that had worn itself out in the span of a few minutes back the way I'd come.

"…."

The line I'd seen on the Status Window that morning came back to me.

To get home… I had to take down the final boss. And if the final boss didn't exist… then I couldn't take him down, could I.

In a single word—

Stranded.

I couldn't go home. I'd been left behind in this place.

My teeth ground together of their own accord. I'd wanted to stay unshaken if I could, but that really wasn't easy.

I walked on without a word, feet dragging, from the Waste Disposal Site toward the Outermost District so I could teleport. Spacing out and doing nothing but walk, my sense of time went hazy, and before I knew it I had drawn quite close to the tobacco shop.

The teleport scroll. I took it out ahead of time.

And… a few more steps, and—

"I'm digging in!"

"…?"

—it happened.

A bright, cheerful voice that had no business being in a place like this reached me, and I turned my head without thinking. The tobacco shop. Lulu was there: a little elf with her eyes sparkling over the salad set in front of her.

Did she buy that with the money I gave her…?

…Mm. Yeah. Vegetables were expensive, sure. Obscenely so. Wow. That was actually constructive of her.

Except once she finished all of that, she was just going to light a cigarette again, wasn't she. What kind of harmony of health and vice was this?

"Hah."

Ah. For some reason, it felt like déjà vu. I was pretty sure it had been the same earlier, when we talked.

"Heh heh…."

And so I let out another empty laugh.

I was dead serious until just now, Lulu.

…Thanks.

"…What do you mean by that?"

"Ah, it's nothing at all…!"

The girl takes an interest.

She wanted to grow stronger. She wanted to clash with someone strong. She wanted to cut something. Driven by that hunger, she had come out from the heart of the city into the Middle District.

She hadn't settled on a destination. One thing, at least, was certain: the Central District held nothing that would satisfy her.

In the Central District, there was the Academy.

People there devoted themselves to the study of magic and the sword. She had been one of them. It was an education meant, truly, for elites—theory classes refined and systematized down to the last detail, and practical classes that felt like real combat. And last of all, luxurious weapons and spirit elixirs that the people of the Middle District and the Outermost District never even got the chance to touch.

The girl, Ria Velashie, had come from a place like that. At the Academy where every sort of elite gathered, she had claimed the seat of top student without a shred of doubt, and she had come from there.

She received everyone's admiration. Everyone's. Juniors who came up to her with shining eyes. Classmates who wanted her help so they could grow stronger still. Professors who praised her talent.

"Ria, your mother and I are so very proud of you."

"You always show me more than I ever expected of you, my daughter."

And last of all, a mother and father she respected, smiling with gentle warmth.

"Of course. I'm Ria Velashie. I'll never disappoint you."

Everything went exactly as Ria wanted.

The road ahead of the girl was nothing but flowers. Neither hardship nor adversity existed on it. It was the path of a genius who advanced without obstruction, who would one day become the name of an era—a path with no chance of ever falling, and so no need even to grow through failure. A golden road.

….

…And that very fact had made her sick to death of all of it.

I hate it. Everyone just stands around grinning like a pack of fools….

At some point, Ria came to understand. When she had climbed higher than anyone else—when she believed she had reached the place that touched the sky itself—she understood that where she stood was a greenhouse made of glass. Not the harsh wild, but an artificially made paradise.

There were no struggles staked on one's life. No swords swung in earnest with the intent to harm. Blood did not flow, and there was no finishing blow. Every attempt was simply stopped by the instructor watching the spar.

"Ria Velashie. Lately you've been far too violent during spars."

"That can't be. I'm only treating the spar like a real fight."

"…Right. But I hope you'll be careful from now on. In the end, your opponent is your classmate at the Academy, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠isn't he?"

A classmate. A classmate, was it?

Haaa….

In the end, it had all been pretty words. Call it a class like real combat if you wanted—in the end, it was just playing house.

She wanted to cut. She wanted to cut something living with her own hands. And she wanted to fight someone strong. She longed for a duel in which both sides gave everything they had.

And so Ria left the Central District on impulse, to get away from the idiots in the greenhouse. She slipped out at dawn, leaving her parents nothing but a single letter by way of notice. A robe to hide her appearance, a coin pouch, a Black Card, and a single dagger. That was all she took.

Anyone would do. Even a fight with the monsters outside the city seemed as if it would be fine.

…Even so, waking at dawn and pushing herself hard had left her tired, and that was the truth. She decided to rest first at the first lodging that caught her eye. For the Middle District, it didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seem bad. She meant to take a nap, and then start moving properly from lunch onward.

Until the innkeeper brought up something out of nowhere.

"No. I heard you just fine. What did you mean by that?"

"Ah… well, it's difficult for me to go babbling carelessly about another guest…."

"You already did."

"Th-that's why I'm telling you it was a mistake."

The innkeeper was flustered. The young lady who had been nothing but taciturn a moment ago was suddenly firing words at him in a rush; of course he was. And on top of that, she had her chin tipped high, looking up at him, so from his side of the counter he could see it too—the blue eyes hidden inside the robe, shining.

They were beautiful, certainly. Like looking into a still lake. If the situation hadn't been what it was, he might have reached for an even better comparison.

"For a mistake, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sounded awfully excited when you brought it up."

"As if! There's no way I'd be the sort of person with neither tact nor shame!"

In truth he was exactly that sort, but he wasn't about to admit it. If he told this girl everything he knew, he had a feeling he could win her favor. Even so, this wasn't it. He had a rule he'd set for himself.

Namely: do not get involved in the affairs of strong people!

Not to brag, but the inn he ran had a rather good reputation. It sat in the Middle District, yet closer to the center than to the outskirts, so the facilities were fairly decent. Residents who lived here, residents who had come up from below, residents who had come down from above—everyone could stop in. It was something like a forum for exchange, and that alone had become the inn's defining trait and earned it its good name. All the better for an innkeeper who liked watching people.

But a trait like that could be a drawback as easily as a merit.

"Hey, you! Did you think you could betray the organization and run?"

"D-damn it…!"

There had been a time he'd hurriedly thrown out guests who suddenly decided to stage a noir.

"Good day, innkeeper. By any chance, has someone with messy black hair and glasses come by?"

"Yes…? Wh-why do you…."

"Ah, we are not suspicious persons."

People who traveled in a pack while saying things like that were the most suspicious of all, but—

"We've merely come looking for the doctor who deserted— no, who took an unauthorized leave. Here is our card."

"I-it really is genuine."

The luxurious card they handed over bore the seal of a famous research institute he himself had heard of somewhere, and so—

"He's in the last room on the second floor…."

"Yes. Thank you for your cooperation."

And so there had also been a time when suits from the Central District came and took someone away. Those were only the ones that came to mind at once; in reality there were more. Going through that string of incidents, he couldn't help but realize it. Ah—it was simply best not to get tangled up in things like this at all. Best to remain an observer, and nothing more.

Which is why I have a contingency, too….

If the other party was someone from the Central District, people like that had a certain refinement and valued a proper justification. If the justification sounded plausible, he went along with it; if not, he refused. And if the other party was someone who had come up from the Outermost District, more often than not they were people who had broken the rules here and made trouble, and then he, too, had no choice but to use force.

Beneath the table, sleeping quietly, he felt the solid weight of his self-defense Big-Fucking-Shotstick—a kind of staff, enchanted with a single-use explosion spell.

"Hmm. You're more rigid than I expected."

"I'd be grateful if you'd call it conscientious…!"

So. What will you do, noble young lady? Do you have a justification capable of moving my heart?

"Five thousand gold."

"…Pardon? What did you say?"

Why money, all of a sudden.

…No.

Don't tell me—?

"Are you trying to buy me with money right n—"

"Six thousand gold."

"To make me out to be that kind of mercenary…!"

"Seven thousand gold."

"W-wait, let me just—"

"Eight thousand gold."

Then nine thousand gold. And finally, ten thousand.

"There isn't another."

"…."

…Right. Thinking about it, a fuck-ton of money was justification enough, wasn't it. A small citizen of the Middle District had no choice but to nod.

Ria took out the Black Card. It was a kind of magic tool—an inventory for storing nothing but money. She poured mana into it. Handing over ten thousand gold coins one by one would be a nuisance, so she used another method. A black line scored itself through the air, and the card spat out a single sheet of paper, fluttering.

"Let's see… here. A check for ten thousand gold. Cash it yourself later at a bank in the Central District."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

"But it had better be a story worth ten thousand gold."

"Understood… in that case…."

Ahem. He cleared his throat and dropped his voice, and began.

"Once upon a time…."

"Knock it off."

"Yes, ma'am."

He'd just tell it straight. Ah, right. Simply—

It had been one of those ordinary days, the same as always. A guest with gray hair and red eyes, by the name of Siegfried. He never stayed long, but he didn't come by rarely, either. If you could call him a regular, then he was a regular. The innkeeper himself didn't know much. Even when curiosity made him toss out a light question first, the answer that came back showed no will to continue the conversation in any way that was easy to follow.

"But that day, there was one thing that was different."

"What?"

"A monocle. That is, he was wearing one of those single-lens eyeglasses."

"…So it's nothing, then. People just wear those for fashion."

Yes. He had certainly thought so at first, too. A monocle was difficult to use as an aid to vision, so he had assumed the man simply felt like dressing up that day.

"The way you're saying that means—"

"Yes. It wasn't. I don't know the details, but it seems it was rather important."

It was a night when everyone was asleep. He, too, had been about to close up and go to his room to sleep.

Flash—!

"?!"

Until, all at once, light spilled from the second floor.

He went up by candlelight. The door at the very front of the corridor—the room Mr. Siegfried was staying in—stood slightly open. He secretly peeked through the gap.

"What did you see?"

"…."

Like a ball. It was a person swollen up like a ball. He didn't know who. It wasn't Mr. Siegfried. Because, well—Mr. Siegfried had his hand laid on its body. Something black, come from Mr. Siegfried's hand, was wrapping around it. And as time passed, its size was shrinking.

"I didn't see all of it. I got scared partway through and ran. Even so, if there was one thing I managed to hear then…."

He had murmured that he'd done something interesting.

"And then morning came. There wasn't a single trace left in Mr. Siegfried's room, and his manner was the same as always."

Hearing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the innkeeper's account come to an end like that, Ria thought—

…That isn't a question of whether he's strong or not, is it?

"Hey, you. You're Siegfried, right?"

"?"

It was when I'd come back to the inn, meaning to rest. The girl in the robe—the one I'd collided with on my way out that morning—spoke to me. And nothing to go with it but a considerably provocative line.

"Follow me. Fight me."

I had no idea what this was about.

Seriously, what the hell is this…?