A Calculated Risk
"You're saying you'll tell me the location of the Holy Relic I'm looking for?"
"Yes."
A Holy Relic. It referred to an item imbued with divine power that granted extraordinary effects. At the same time, it was an absolute necessity for anyone wishing to become a Hero.
Of course, it was technically possible to become a Hero without one. Indeed, some Heroes made a name for themselves solely through the power of a mighty Stigma, without ever wielding a Holy Relic.
But even so, they were treated as half-measures. A Hero's true power only exploded when their Stigma and Holy Relic achieved perfect synergy. Ultimately, to reach the rank of a High-grade Hero, a Holy Relic was indispensable. And not just any standard relic, but one officially recognized by the Holy Church as a 4-star grade or higher.
While there was no hard-and-fast rule, that was the reality of the world. A regular Hero was expected to face ten Hero Candidates at once, and a High-grade Hero had to be capable of taking on a hundred regular Heroes simultaneously.
Such a feat was utterly impossible without the aid of a Holy Relic.
Under normal circumstances, however, obtaining a Holy Relic was surprisingly straightforward. The moment one became a Hero Candidate, they were issued a mass-produced 1-star Holy Relic.
Once they officially became a Hero, the Holy Church would provide up to a 3-star relic depending on their achievements. And when a Hero was deemed to have accumulated enough power and karma to ascend to a High-grade Hero, it was customary for the Church to bestow one of their vaulted 4-star or higher relics alongside the promotion.
There were other ways to acquire them as well. Some inherited them from their mentors, others killed the previous owners to claim them, and some—by sheer, absurd luck—simply stumbled upon them lying in the street like stray pebbles.
But Gwen fit none of these categories. The Holy Church did not possess a 4-star or higher relic compatible with her Stigma.
In fact, the relic meant for her had never even been introduced to the world. Unclassified by the Church, her destined Holy Relic lay deeply hidden in a place so remote that one could scarcely find it without knowing exactly where to look.
A Holy Relic that had to be discovered firsthand.
Conversely, this meant that as long as you had a walkthrough, finding it was relatively simple, paving a smooth path for her to become a High-grade Hero. This, combined with her Precocious trait, was why she was so beloved by beginners—and why those beginners always played her with a guide in hand.
But that was the Constellation's perspective. Gwen's reality was quite different. As of right now, she had no idea where her Holy Relic was.
"The location of your Holy Relic. Don't you want to know it?"
And the Gwen I knew desperately wanted to obtain her relic.
Hearing my question, Gwen stared blankly into space for a moment before speaking.
"But what should we do? It seems my Constellation is against it."
I had expected as much. In fact, the player would naturally oppose her getting the Holy Relic right now. The core strategy of training Gwen was to delay her acquiring her Holy Relic for as long as possible.
It was all because of her trait, Precocious.
At a glance, Precocious seemed like a flawless trait with only benefits—a simple, powerful passive that accelerated skill mastery.
For now, that was true. But looking to the future, the story changed. The true risk of Precocious manifested the very moment Gwen laid hands on her exclusive Holy Relic.
To pay for the time she had borrowed to accelerate her growth, her aging process would rapidly accelerate.
She had merely grown faster than others, but once she obtained her relic and became a High-grade Hero, she would age and die of old age within a few short years.
The crucial point was that the endgame of Hundred Braves didn't stop at making a character a High-grade Hero.
The goal was to raise the strongest Hero possible, climb to the top of the Hero rankings, and eventually reach the Sacred Rank. To achieve that, she needed to grow as much as possible before she ever touched her Holy Relic.
But still...
I wasn't asking the player—the Constellation. I was asking Gwen.
"What about you? Don't you want to know where it is?"
The only thing that mattered here was Gwen's decision. Just as Alan had, characters in this world did not blindly obey the player's commands.
Granted, Alan's case was a bit extreme, but Gwen was entirely capable of ignoring her Constellation's orders. And if she had progressed this far into the game...
"You've noticed it too, haven't you? That your Constellation isn't an all-knowing, perfect being."
Even when following a guide, this game was riddled with variables. No, since this was a real world, variables were only natural.
And faced with those variables, a beginner player was bound to make mistakes. Through those missteps, someone as sharp as Gwen would inevitably catch on.
"Am I right?"
Gwen let out a dry chuckle.
"Even so, it's rare to find someone who speaks of the Constellations so irreverently."
Well, that's because I used to be one of those beings you call Constellations.
"So, what about my proposal?"
"Let me make one thing clear. I won't fully trust you until I find out what this 'trade secret' of yours is."
"That's fine by me. I only need to get as far as the Trial."
"No, what I mean is, I don't even believe you actually know the location of my Holy Relic."
I hadn't realized Gwen was this cautious.
But she continued,
"Still, placing a bet on you doesn't seem like a bad idea. As you said, I was planning on heading to the Trial anyway, so I have nothing to lose."
I had succeeded.
Clatter, clatter.
The quiet scraping of utensils was the only sound echoing over the modest dining table.
Of course, the table setting consisted of nothing more than two plates, a fork, and a spoon.
Well, at least my stomach is full.
Fundamentally, the food in this world tasted awful.
Setting aside the crude cooking method of throwing everything into a pot to boil into a stew, the ingredients themselves were just bland and tasteless.
It really made me appreciate how much modern Earth's agricultural breeding had improved the flavor of food.
Still, it's better than military rations.
I finished my portion and set down my spoon.
The Innkeeper, who was eating across from me, looked up.
"Do you want some more?"
"No, I'm good. This is plenty."
It wasn't a taste I particularly wanted to experience twice.
Just as I picked up my plate and stood up, he spoke.
"By the way, Alan."
"Yes?"
"How long do you plan on staying at this inn?"
I offered him the warmest, most amiable smile I could muster.
"I was thinking of staying here until I grow old and die."
"I might not have any children of my own, but I have absolutely no intention of leaving this inn to you."
Saying I would stay until I died was, of course, a joke.
Given how the story was bound to unfold, it was realistically impossible.
Alan Flake had to leave this place soon.
Still, his blunt rejection stung a little.
I had spent years helping out around this inn—even if only a few months of that were from my own direct memories.
"I'm sorry. But I hope you don't take it to heart too much."
"Pardon?"
"I just don't want you stuck in a backwater village like this.
I want you to go to a bigger city.
I want you to see, hear, and experience many things—even if you eventually decide to come back to this inn one day."
Come to think of it, he was right.
The Innkeeper had always been a good man to Alan Flake.
He was practically a father to him.
At the same time, he was also the primary reason Alan had never been able to bring himself to leave his hometown.
He really is a good man, but...
That was all the more reason I had to leave quickly, before I grew any more attached.
I had been hesitating on how to bring it up, but he had opened the door for me.
This actually made things much easier.
"Actually..."
"Hmm?"
"I was already thinking of leaving soon."
He looked taken aback for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.
"Where to?"
"I'm thinking of heading to Sark first.
Going straight to the Reim Kingdom is too difficult since I'd have to pass through the Holy City Heilen, and I've heard Sark is a metropolis that rivals Reim."
Sark was indeed one of the destinations I had in mind.
Though before that, I had a few things to take care of at the ruins.
"Sark, you say... But I heard the public security there is quite poor."
"Only in the back alleys."
For the record, the back alleys of Sark boasted some of the worst public security in the entire world.
"So, I won't even set foot in those areas."
In truth, I would probably end up dipping my toes in there.
But I couldn't exactly tell him that.
"Hmm..."
"It'll be fine. I even caught a bandit the other day, remember?"
"Well, that's true... So, when do you plan on leaving?"
This was a slightly difficult question. But I couldn't avoid answering.
"In three days."
I was scheduled to leave in exactly three days. It was a rushed schedule, but I couldn't afford to hold Gwen back.
"In three days?"
"Yes."
"So suddenly? You were just saying you'd stay here until you grow old and die..."
This time, the Innkeeper couldn't hide his shock. It was the reaction I had anticipated. And because I had expected it, I had already prepared what to say.
"To be honest, I've been thinking about leaving for a long time."
Here, I could make use of Alan Flake's past.
"I'm sorry, but... I want to find my birth parents."
Alan's mother had abandoned him at the inn shortly after giving birth. The Innkeeper was the one who had taken him in and raised him.
"But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Leaving you behind, after everything you've done to raise me... To be honest, I'm still hesitating even now. That's why I want to leave as quickly as possible, before I lose my nerve."
"I see... You've made a good decision."
The Innkeeper looked deeply saddened now that the moment of departure was actually here. Part of me wanted to tease him about how he had just said he wouldn't leave the inn to me, but I kept my tone soft.
"Of course, I don't plan on obsessing over finding them. Just as you said, I want to see the world and broaden my horizons first. If fate allows, I'm sure we'll cross paths eventually."
"I'm sure you will."
After a brief hesitation, he spoke. "Then... should I wish you a safe journey now?"
I appreciate the sentiment, but... I still have three days left, you know?
"The innkeeper... is he your father?" asked Gwen, who was in her room polishing her sword.
"No, he raised me. I was an orphan."
"Then he is an even greater man than a father."
As she spoke, she lifted her sword to inspect the blade. The lamplight cast a crimson glow across the steel. A sudden chill ran down my spine, though I knew she wasn't the type of person to draw her blade on a whim.
"So, did you wrap things up nicely?"
"Yes. I've already said my goodbyes, so I can focus entirely on preparing from now on."
Gwen glanced at me, letting out a soft sigh at my words.
"By the way, when you suddenly asked me to take you to the Trial, I assumed you had some level of preparation. To think you have absolutely nothing ready... I feel somewhat cheated."
"Without your help, it would have taken me years, let alone three days."
It was the honest truth. Shaking her head at my shameless attitude, Gwen stood up.
"Then, follow me."
"Pardon?"
"Three days isn't a lot of time. There is somewhere we need to go."