The Test (1)
The massive body of the monster collapsed. Ashtain watched the sight until the very end. It was a gaze meant to confirm whether there was any chance of it rising again. Some monsters occasionally revived from death, so it never hurt to stay vigilant. Fortunately, his concern proved unfounded. The fallen monster did not stir again.
Once he confirmed there were no anomalies, Ashtain drove the Holy Sword into the ground. He had slain so many monsters that there wasn’t a single spot on his body free of blood. The thick stench of blood had long since numbed his sense of smell. He wiped the sticky gore from his cheek and let out a heavy breath.
“Hoo…”
The clash of cold air and hot breath formed a white mist. When he lifted his head, snow was beginning to fall. It was heavy, fluffy flakes. Ashtain had a lot on his mind.
The reason his thoughts had grown so heavy was entirely because of Azazel. And how could it not be? The woman who always acted tough and put on a strong front had suddenly collapsed. Right in front of him. Had she been mentally cornered? By what? He didn’t know. If he did, he wouldn’t be agonizing over it like this.
He did think he had been too harsh with her. A sliver of pity stirred in him. But could he forgive the rude way she had treated Aria? That was a separate matter. No matter how hard he tried to see it kindly, he simply couldn’t. Aria was a special existence to Ashtain. Any act of showing hostility toward her was essentially the same as picking a fight with him.
Besides, he had seen and heard the wounds she carried. Just imagining the pain Aria must have felt from Azazel’s careless words made his stomach twist. The content of those insults was the real problem. Most of them had been aimed at digging into the very scars Aria bore.
His concern for the upright and innocent Saintess came first. He hoped she wouldn’t be hurt. He hoped she wouldn’t see herself as filthy. He wanted to embrace her. To pull her into these arms and keep whispering words of love.
“Damn it.”
Ashtain roughly scratched at his hair. It was an unusually irritable gesture for him. Yes, to be honest, he was worried about leaving Aria alone with Azazel. But hadn’t she said it herself?
The words had risen all the way to his throat. Who knew what that woman might do to you. She could threaten you. She might do something disrespectful. Those ugly thoughts had made him want to refuse.
When he looked into her clear eyes, Ashtain found his opinion bending. He had never been broken before, even if he could be bent. To think he had become this docile. His new side felt strangely foreign to him.
Have I grown weak?
When he was with Aria, the sharp arrowhead he had honed against the world and its monsters grew blunt. Funnily enough, she was a more fatal existence to Ashtain than any enemy. A being that diluted the density of his revenge and hatred—how terrifying that was.
Ashtain couldn’t stand how lukewarm he had become. That was why he had come to this mountain. He thought that if he killed monsters, these softened emotions might improve even a little. The surging bloodlust, the battles where blood and flesh flew. He found himself pathetic for taking comfort in such horrific scenes. In a way, this too was probably a disability.
—Wouldn’t it be better to rest?
The Holy Sword Karelin expressed concern for Ashtain’s well-being. It seemed to sense that his condition was far from normal.
“I’m fine.”
Of course he was. This was a familiar routine. Carving up monsters, slicing them apart, killing them. Still, there are more of them than before. While he had been away, the number of monsters had increased again.
I really should have uprooted them all last time.
If Bishop Ronin hadn’t shown up uninvited, he would have exterminated every last monster on Mount Ascendio. Then he wouldn’t have encountered the “owner” hiding in these mountains. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Well, it wasn’t entirely without gain.
He didn’t regret it completely. Because he had gone to the main headquarters of the Sex Cult, Aria had gained her freedom, and Ashtain had obtained the Holy Sword. It had been a necessary visit.
The Hero looked down at the pure white blade in his hand. The Holy Sword had many advantages. Its well-balanced weight allowed the user to swing it for long periods without fatigue. The blade’s sharpness never dulled easily, slicing through tough monster flesh as if it were paper. Its ability to absorb mana was also outstanding, allowing him to use techniques that would normally strain a regular sword’s durability in rapid succession.
But what he liked most was that it inflicted a self-healing reduction effect whenever it cut a monster. Even a rotten Holy Sword was still a Holy Sword, it seemed.
—Hmm. From what this girl sees, you are indeed pushing yourself.
It wasn’t without its downsides. The Holy Sword was an incredibly noisy existence.
“Shut up.”
Even when spoken to coldly, Karelin continued chattering without the slightest hint of discouragement.
—When this girl looks at someone like you, so desperate to die, it doesn’t sit well with me. You should cherish your own body as much as you love Aria. Or do you intend to make her a widow?
“Widow? We haven’t even had the ceremony yet.”
—But you intend to someday, don’t you? Marriage, that is.
Could he? It felt like there was no guarantee. Ashtain answered indifferently.
“At this point, when we haven’t even killed the Demon King yet, talking about the future feels premature.”
—Hmph. Can’t you at least imagine it?
“My will weakens. If you keep spouting that sugary nonsense.”
—You are a fool. Most people live on by using such shallow hopes as their driving force.
“Don’t start giving long-winded speeches.”
Ashtain took a few deep breaths, then pulled the Holy Sword from the ground. The day was gradually growing darker. He would kill a few more and then head back. By then, Aria and Azazel’s conversation should be over. With that thought, he began to walk.
Several hours passed. Ashtain was still wandering through Mount Ascendio. This was definitely not what he had intended. He stopped and looked at a bare, leafless tree. On its trunk was an “X” he had carved just a few dozen minutes ago.
—Ashtain.
At Karelin’s dry tone, Ashtain broke into a savage smile.
“We’re going in circles.”
There was no other way to explain the phenomenon. Karelin continued as if agreeing with him.
—It is a barrier, or something akin to a distortion spell.
Ashtain thought. Who could have done this? Who would try to trap him here? There was only one person who came to mind. It must be the work of the “owner” who dwelled in this mountain.
…But why? It hadn’t shown even a trace of itself before. What was its intention now? Had something changed from before?
If he were to name what had changed… Ashtain looked at the sword in his hand.
The Holy Sword.
That was the only difference. But how could the mountain’s “owner” have detected the presence of the Holy Sword?
Interesting. Ashtain felt a spark of curiosity.
“Should I break this barrier?”
—It will be difficult.
It was a negative answer. Ashtain agreed with Karelin’s opinion. Barriers of this type grew even stronger if you tried to forcibly twist and break them. In other words, they had to be dismantled from the inside.
“Which means we have to escape this place and head in the right direction.”
The right direction. That meant heading toward the center of the barrier. As he clicked his tongue, Karelin answered in a clear, ringing voice.
—Do not worry. This girl knows the path well enough.
“That’s reassuring.”
—Go in the direction this girl indicates.
“Alright. Lead the way.”
There was no hesitation on Ashtain’s face. As always, he simply charged forward with everything he had at whatever situation lay before him.
It was a pitch-black landscape. Part of it was because it was night, but being in the mountains made it feel even more ominous. Snowflakes whirled through the air. It was a fierce blizzard. It felt exactly like the winters of the north.
In the middle of such harsh weather, two women wearing thick coats were walking along a treacherous mountain path. With every step, their feet sank deep into the piled snow. Azazel led the way, creating artificial light with magic, occasionally glancing back to check on Aria’s condition.
“You didn’t have to follow me.”
It wasn’t empty words. Aria’s company was nothing but a hindrance to Azazel. A burden, one might say.
“I didn’t want to just sit and wait.”
“What help could you possibly be?”
It wasn’t mockery or criticism. It was a question asked with genuine curiosity. Aria was too awkward to be treated as a full combat asset. Knowing this herself, she naturally fell silent. She slowly thought about what she could do.
“In case of emergency… I could at least serve as a meat shield…”
Azazel grimaced and shook her head.
“I don’t want that, and I don’t need it.”
The immediate answer made Aria droop, her gaze fixed on the ground.
“…I’m sorry for being stubborn.”
When Aria showed signs of depression, Azazel made an extremely awkward face and waved her hands.
“I-it’s fine, it’s fine! It’s not that I hate it. That’s right! Having someone to talk to means I won’t be lonely!”
“Really?”
Aria’s face brightened as if she had never been gloomy. Was it okay to cheer up this quickly? Azazel awkwardly lifted the corners of her mouth.
“Well… I do think it’s a bit much to demand to come along without warning…”
“I-I’m sorry.”
The moment her tone turned accusatory, Aria immediately lost her energy. Azazel found that side of her fascinating. Just a few dozen minutes ago, she had been mature and sharp in her responses. Seeing this other side was entertaining in its own way.
She must have pretty severe mood swings.
That wasn’t something the woman who had just buried her face in Aria’s chest and sobbed should be thinking. In any case, the two women continued forward while maintaining their vigilance. The hooting of owls and the occasional crunch of mountain animals stepping on snow could be heard. Even at those small sounds, Aria would flinch in fear, but each time Azazel would calm her with a low voice.
“Don’t be scared. If anything comes, I’ll take care of it.”
“Y-you’re so cool.”
What a reliable mage. Aria gazed at Azazel with eyes full of admiration, and Azazel, finding it burdensome, averted her gaze.
“D-don’t flatter me.”
“But it’s true.”
At the pure words that held not a single lie, the witch sank into silence. When Azazel grew intensely embarrassed, Aria asked another question.
“Um, why aren’t you flying like before? Wouldn’t that be faster?”
“There are perfectly reasonable reasons.”
“Reasonable reasons?”
Azazel, who had been walking ahead, glanced back at Aria once before flashing a confident smile.
“What do you think are the advantages of flying?”
Aria pressed her thumb against the bridge of her nose as she pondered.
“Hmm… wider field of view? Speed?”
“Correct. Wider field of view and faster movement. But it’s night right now, isn’t it? Even if your field of view widens, the visibility is short, so that advantage becomes meaningless. And even if you move quickly through the air, the trees create blind spots, making it hard to find Ashtain.”
It made sense when she heard it, so Aria nodded lightly in agreement.
“That’s true, now that I think about it.”
“But the biggest reason is what I’m about to explain.”
“What is it?”
“If there really is something on this mountain that managed to defeat Ashtain, wouldn’t it obviously detect a ‘flying mage’? Flying is convenient, but it draws that much attention. The mana wave is also quite large, so it’s hard to hide.”
Though she explained it at length, to summarize in one sentence: flying drew an enormous amount of aggro. Well, mages do have that glass cannon aspect to them, Aria thought, nodding in understanding.
“So you’re saying we could get ambushed.”
“That’s… what I mean.”
Suddenly, Azazel’s expression grew serious. She seemed to have spotted something and raised her left hand to stop Aria. Her face was filled with tension.
“…I didn’t expect it to come greet us this quickly.”
Clank. Clank.
The sound of metal rang out. The eyes of both women turned in one direction. There stood a knight clad in dull black armor that gleamed like snake scales. Helmet, breastplate, chain gloves, greaves—everything was black. It looked exactly like a death knight. A blue glow emanated from within its helmet.
—The outside air is refreshing.
It was a murky, scraping voice, as if metal were being scratched. Azazel frowned and pointed her withered wooden staff at the knight.
“Stop right there. If you come any closer, you won’t like what happens.”
The knight stopped walking and sent a quiet gaze her way.
—Oh? A mage lady? And beside her…
He swallowed his words. As if surprised. As if in awe.
—Oh?
It was a questionable reaction. Just as Azazel was about to demand what that strange reaction meant—
“You.”
The tone was so brutal it sent chills down the listener’s spine. Azazel looked at Aria with an expression that said, ‘You could make a voice like that?’ Her face was so devastated it would be accurate to say it had completely collapsed.
“Where did you get that sword?”
Only then did Azazel notice the sword held by the black knight. A blade as white as snow. She had seen it somewhere before.
—You have a keen eye. Would you like to know?
“Speak.”
Aria did not use polite speech. Her eyes were shaking violently. Such intense agitation—what exactly was that sword?
The black knight answered in a voice laced with amusement.
—I took it from that naive Hero on my way here.
Goosebumps rose on Azazel’s skin. The sword the black knight held. It was the Holy Sword.