Chapter 74

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Translator: MadScientist

Chapter: 74

Chapter Title: 9+1+1

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A month wasn't that long a time.

But since she'd told me to give her an answer by today, I'd figured I'd be heading off somewhere right away.

Yet contrary to my expectations, this sudden month of free time felt endlessly long.

"You acted like you were ready to leave at a moment's notice, and now I get to see your face for a whole month?"

Looking at Marcel's smirking face as he poked my cheek made me want to punch him, but after five failed attempts where he annoyingly dodged every time, I gave up.

"I'm going over there."

"You acted like you'd cry if we had to part ways, and now this?"

"I don't want to see you anymore."

"Are you really a kid?"

"I am a kid..."

No matter what was inside, my outward appearance was that of a 13-year-old.

I figured that made me a child, and children could throw tantrums like this.

"Well, your attitude toward clothes or people doesn't seem very childish, so I guess I got confused."

"Lately, I've been getting a lot of comments about my clothes."

"...You've probably heard the reason plenty of times already. Want me to say it again?"

"No thanks."

He'd just say I looked like a prostitute or something.

I turned my head away with a flick and looked up at Shan.

Shan met my gaze by stretching out his leg and kicking Marcel in the shin. "Gah!" With a more comical scream than expected, Marcel crumpled to the ground.

It felt so satisfying that I pulled a copper coin from my pocket and held it out to Shan. Without a word, he took it and stuffed it into his own pocket.

After months together, we could tell exactly what the other wanted without saying a thing.

"Nice."

"Easy work."

"My bone... my bone got hit!"

I sneered down at Marcel rolling pathetically on the ground, dusted off my butt, and stood up.

"Marcel?"

"What now."

"Want to spar? We haven't done it lately. You've been busy preparing for the tournament."

"You hobble me and then challenge me to a spar? That's a bit unfair, don't you think?"

"This evens the balance a little. Get up."

I wanted to show him just how much I'd grown in the meantime.

It had only been a few days, but winning that tournament—no matter how insignificant—had boosted my confidence.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sword, once weighed down by crushed self-esteem and self-doubt, now felt light, and the trembling had stopped.

My actual skill hadn't improved meaningfully, but my mindset had changed.

Marcel had dragged me to the tavern and force-taught me things, and I wanted to show him I'd learned them properly.

"...Fine, fine. Looks like you gained something from that tournament."

Marcel got the message and staggered to his feet, using his spear as a crutch.

Then he looked at me, and I met his gaze without flinching.

I drew my sword.

Grandpa's sword was too heavy for me to use often, but it was sturdy enough to be perfect for sparring.

The wind blew.

The heat of the festival and tournament rode on it.

The metallic tang of blood, the smell of food, the acrid stench of alcohol, and the mingled sounds of chatter, arguments, cries, and laughter filled the air.

The wind tousled my hair, and taking it as a signal, I swung down.

Lightning wasn't a power I could control precisely.

Its trajectory was too wild.

All I could manage was the output.

But having succeeded with that gamble once before, I was starting to get a feel for how to use it.

"You...!"

Marcel saw the lightning I unleashed and went on guard, then grinned as if enjoying it.

Seeing his reaction, I smiled brightly back and focused my mind.

If I kept the output low when activating the lightning, it wouldn't shoot out but instead wrap around the sword.

It was too weak for real killing power, and maintaining it without firing drained my stamina rapidly.

It was a method I'd tried when I first got lightning but abandoned.

But things were different now.

I'd been too frail back then.

I was still frail, but no longer dull.

Mental fatigue I could endure with grit, and I could see my advantages more clearly than the hardships ahead.

This world had plenty of all-metal weapons.

Adding weak wood to metal was pointless in a harsher world than I'd imagined, where weapon strength tied directly to weight.

People even tried to add more weight to their weapons.

So my lightning could produce more than just direct kills.

My sword clashed with Marcel's spear.

A direct block would shatter my wrist, so I angled the blade to deflect the spear's path.

A few strands of my hair were sliced off.

If I hadn't blocked, Marcel would have stopped, but since I'd deflected, he thrust straight in.

It was to preserve my pride.

It showed directly that I'd handled his fearsome attack well.

He still underestimated me, hoping I'd grow more.

Then I had to show him I'd grown and live up to that.

This world's superhumans were hard to affect with just one or two shocks.

So I'd do it until it worked.

"Wasn't it your leg Shan hit? Why's your spear so sluggish?"

"You're talkative when I'm going easy."

Marcel didn't hide his amusement and swung his spear again.

He held back to my level, but each strike could break bones if it landed wrong.

Unlike the past when I sweated through endless barrages unable to cope, I was confident I could handle them all. I parried the first, dodged the second, deflected the third.

The lightning on my sword arced along the spear with each clash. After five or six exchanges, it finally showed effect.

Marcel's hand stiffened, and in that moment of surprise, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he frowned at me.

"Lightning, right? The skill gap between us is huge, but if someone on our level sparred cluelessly like this, they'd be done for."

"Right?"

Feeling acknowledged, I beamed, and Marcel clicked his tongue but suddenly closed the distance.

My head froze in confusion, but my body instinctively backed away while swinging down.

But as Marcel said, I lacked power, speed, and experience.

His thrust sent my sword flying from my grip.

If I'd clung on, I'd have lost fingers too.

Chills ran through me as I rolled on the ground to dodge his horizontal sweep.

"...Urk!"

I lost miserably.

I knew I'd lose, but unlike with Shan, Marcel matched my level, and this was the first time I'd been so thoroughly outmatched I couldn't even think of counters.

"You've definitely improved. No hesitation when thrusting, and your body reacts instead of freezing in panic. You're at least twice, maybe three times stronger than when we met."

"R-Really?"

Rolling on the ground sweating made me filthy with dirt, but it was the closest thing to praise Marcel had ever given me, so I grinned brightly while sprawled out.

"So, this is what you wanted to show me?"

"Yeah. The extra month felt weird since I had time to spare, but anyway, we're friends, right?"

No immediate reply came, so with a slightly trembling voice, I repeated myself.

"...We're friends, right?"

Still no answer. On the verge of tears, I pushed myself up, only to see Marcel grinning annoyingly.

Annoyed, I grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it. He spat and sputtered, "Ptui!" trying to get it out of his mouth. Glaring at him, I sighed and continued.

"I'm leaving soon. I just wanted to say not to worry too much since I have some skill now."

"You're strong enough awkwardly that it worries me more."

"Huh?"

"Know what I see die most as an adventurer?"

I had a guess but enough sense not to voice it, so I shook my head.

"The weak ones are fine. They know their place and avoid danger."

Marcel reached out and patted my head.

Like he was dusting off the dirt.

"The truly strong are obviously fine. The pointless deaths I see are usually from the middling ones."

"Middling?"

"Guys who think they're hot stuff among their peers. They know they're strong, so they don't avoid risks. And they die."

"...I think I know my place pretty well."

"I thought so too, but seeing you smug with that weird power today, I tested you a bit."

That explained it.

The sudden pressure.

Had I looked that smug?

"Honestly, speaking frankly now—do you really have to go with Helen?"

"Huh?"

"I know you want to get stronger, and for some reason you're super anxious about it. Can't miss it when you're around you."

Marcel looked down at me with a more serious expression.

"But is it necessary? Wouldn't staying with us be better? We won't be around forever, but it's still way better than following Helen."

Those words were temptation.

Vile words shaking my hard-resolved heart.

"Let's be real—you can barely keep up with the homework Shan and I give you. What makes you think Helen will change that?"

Temptation followed by harsh reality.

He was right.

If I couldn't even absorb Shan and Marcel's teachings properly, what would change with Helen?

She claimed she'd be better than Shan, but how could I believe that?

"It's your decision, so I won't say more, but you can still back out. If it was today, no choice, but you have a month."

Marcel seemed genuinely worried.

Shan saying nothing was as good as agreeing.

They were worried about me and wanted me to stay.

But that's why.

I understood I had to leave.

"Thanks. But it's already decided."

I couldn't drag good people into danger.

So this farewell was inevitable.

But not forever.

"Thanks for worrying. I like you guys too, but this is unavoidable."

"...Yeah, do what you want."

Marcel clicked his tongue in regret, and Shan's stoic face showed subtle emotion.

"I'm not leaving right away anyway. Take care of me for the month."

I stood and bowed to them. They just patted my shoulders wordlessly.

Just then, as the tournament ended, Helen approached us, reeking of blood.

"Sorry to interrupt, but something came up."

"Something?"

"Why tell us?"

Shan and I questioned, and Helen shrugged casually.

"Ellie, didn't something happen with that young master Hector?"

"...Yeah?"

Not close, but we'd met, so not nothing.

Why ask me about his business, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠though?

"Did something happen to Master Hector?"

"No, the young master's fine. But the servant he had with him was found chopped up in the sewers."

"What...?"

The servant who seemed at least Shan's level, chopped up in the sewers?

"Know anything?"

"...Why ask me? I wouldn't know."

We'd only met once.

No way I'd know his situation, but a powerhouse like that dying chopped in the sewers was no ordinary matter.

"Festival and tournament will be canceled."

A silver-rank upper-tier expert murdered.

No time for fun.

But Helen shook her head at my reaction.

"No, they'll continue. If the capital's already shaky mood from the devil worshippers gets rocked again, it'll be the worst."

Helen scanned Shan, Marcel, and me with red eyes before continuing.

"I got an urgent punitive quest to find the culprit fast. Figured you should know."

"Why tell us?"

Helen answered nonchalantly.

"If I can't find the real one, I'll have to make one up and deliver. You know how it is, Shan, Marcel?"

"Damn."

Marcel spat a short curse, guessing it.

"You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have a connection to the young master, you give off creepy vibes and stand out. Got better scapegoat material than you?"

"Ah."

"Not my idea. No more victims? Five days. If there are, two. Find and deliver the culprit. Or make one."

"Make one" sounded chilling.

And the made-up culprit was me, from the sound of it.

"That's me?"

"Yeah, but not my intent. They gave me a list of ten potential scapegoats in case. You were at the top."

As her words ended, the world stopped.

And the dice began to roll.

The traits activated.

It was clearly related to devils.

Then the traits added +2.

11.

With the dice result, the world resumed flowing.

"Fuck."

The quiet curse drew their gazes, but now wasn't the time to care.

Not as bad as a D20, but something serious was brewing.