The Black Reaper, Didn't You Buy a Shield?

Camellia looked visibly startled when she suddenly saw us. For a moment I wondered if she might be the traitor, but even during her absence the party's location had kept getting exposed. There was no reason to suspect her, yet we still needed to ask why she had come all the way down into the sewers.

"Can I ask why you came here, sis?"

Camellia slid her sword back into its sheath, hesitated briefly, then answered as though she had no choice.

"I thought I saw a familiar face. Chasing after them brought me all the way here."

"A familiar face?"

"...Yes. It might just be my imagination, though."

Camellia's expression was dead serious. Who the hell could make her look like that? It's not like the guy was Voldemort—she could at least tell us his name, right? Wait, was it actually Voldemort? Come to think of it, fuck, that bastard was British. The idiot who couldn't even conquer one school had come all the way here to stir up trouble. No wonder he founded that laughable group called the Black Round Table.

Ricardo seemed genuinely pleased by Camellia's arrival and let out a small chuckle.

"Then we're all after the same goal, aren't we?"

"Well, I suppose so."

"Our exact objectives might differ, but our destination is the same. Traveling together would be wiser."

An SSR Caster, an SSR Shielder, and now an SSR Saber on top of that. I was confident we could clear any boss in under three turns.

We walked together, chatting casually as if nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had happened. Thanks to Werner's memories—which were now mine as well—I slipped into the conversation without any awkwardness.

"It's been a while since the three of us traveled together like this."

"Indeed. It's been nineteen years, hasn't it?"

"That's enough time for the mountains and rivers to change twice over."

They say a decade is long enough for mountains and rivers to change, yet these people's appearances had barely shifted. Camellia was a half-elf, so that made sense, but Ricardo had only grown a bit of beard—his face itself remained the same. Zeke's fans were probably seething with jealousy that he'd aged into a handsome middle-aged man instead of becoming an uncle.

"I think the one who's changed more dramatically than the landscape is you, Werner."

"Huh? Why me?"

Both Werner and I had similar personalities, so I didn't think I'd changed all that much. Sure, I'd sweated bullets acting out his food preferences and daily habits, and I'd poured my heart into maintaining his relationships so I wouldn't seem out of character. I'd tried my best not to look like a completely different person. So what did they mean, I'd changed?

"Your face, obviously. You used to have those bright, sparkling eyes and looked like a well-mannered young lady. Now you look like some hopeless slob who's given up on the world."

"Sorry for looking like a slob, brother."

That tin-can bastard. Teasing someone about their appearance is extremely rude and he doesn't even realize it. There had been some real creeps who lusted after young Werner, but back when I wore the armband I blocked those fuckers for a full year. Whatever, call me whatever you want about my looks—if it's hanging there, they scream "gay" like lunatics. Werner himself would attack them with magic the moment he heard that story, though most people just took it as a joke. Of course, very few actually survived the process of "taking it as a joke."

But Camellia seemed to have a slightly different opinion from Ricardo.

"Your words are inaccurate, Ricardo."

"In what way?"

As expected of Camellia. Look at her shielding Werner. If anyone deserved to be called both SSR Saber and SSR Shielder, it was her. Truly, no race in the world was as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kind as elves. Every last skull-scum bastard who spread malicious rumors about "pointy-eared freaks" needed to be wiped out. Yeah, the true wife... no, the one with the best personality is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠definitely an elf. Anyone who disagrees is a neo-Nazi, a racist, and a skull-scum lackey.

"Even now, if Werner put on a dress, plenty of people would mistake him for a girl."

"Ah, that's right. I must be getting presbyopia. You really haven't changed at all, youngest."

These fucking... personality-ruined pointy-ears... As expected, the true wife is a noble... wait, no, Ricardo was a noble too but his personality was ruined. What a pair of hateful bastards. You really shouldn't comment on someone's appearance like that.

"Brother, sister—over these twelve years, do you know what changed the most out of everything I own?"

Both Camellia and Ricardo took my words as a joke.

"What, the length of your hair?"

"From what I can see, there isn't much difference in your appearance."

"My earth-attribute magic skills."

I gifted the personality-ruined half-elf and noble some earth-attribute magic. Large-scale earth magic risked collapsing the interior, but low-level spells without lethal power were fine.

The stone floor of the sewer vanished, and both Ricardo's and Camellia's feet sank deep into the mud.

"See? My earth magic skills are pretty decent, right?"

"You really haven't changed at all—still playing these petty pranks."

"Now that you mention it, do you remember when Werner pranked the Heavenly Demon old man?"

"Ah, when he laid out the old man's robe over a trap and the Heavenly Demon went to pick it up, only to fall into a ninety-meter pit?"

My memory of that part was hazy, but if it really happened, Werner was clearly insane. Ninety meters was the height of a decent building.

"And at the bottom of the pit, he had planted a ton of venomous snakes and iron spikes. Oh, and I think he coated the spikes with paralysis poison too?"

Fuck, that wasn't a prank—that was attempted murder. Even if they were mortal enemies, I wouldn't drop someone into a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trap like that.

"The Heavenly Demon crawled back out and gave Werner a smack on the head, calling him a mischievous brat."

That wasn't mischievous. No matter how you looked at it, that was the work of a bloodthirsty lunatic. The scale of pranks between heroes was no joke. If you'd pulled something like that on an ordinary person, after they crawled out you'd have to smash their head with a sledgehammer... no, an ordinary person would have died the instant they fell into that trap. These crazy monster bastards.

"Well, I pulled plenty of flashy pranks besides that one, haha..."

I wanted to end the conversation there because I had zero desire to hear any more about Werner's deranged antics. A nation that forgets its past has no future, but tomorrow the sun still rises. It was time to move forward.

"Speaking of which, Werner, didn't you pull a nasty prank on your mage friend too?"

Ricardo's question left me slightly puzzled.

"I played a nasty prank on Lorsha?"

"Yeah... I heard it from the previous Tower Master. You released sharks into her private beach, right? She apparently cried her eyes out over it."

Why the hell would this psychopath try to film Jaws in someone else's private beach?

"When exactly did I do that?"

"It was right after she teased you about looking like a girl and said she wanted to put makeup on you."

Ah, then it couldn't be helped. If you tease someone about their appearance, you deserve to be punished. Releasing sharks into a private beach was actually a rather mild penalty.

"She cried so much that I ended up apologizing by letting her put makeup on me."

"That happened? How amusing. Werner, if I cried, would you let me put makeup on you too?"

I knew they weren't teasing me because they disliked me. We were close, so this was just friendly banter. Still, getting hit like this made me a little frustrated. Since it was all hypothetical anyway, there was no reason I couldn't fire back.

Camellia was definitely not the type to cry.

"Well, if sis cried, I'd do anything for her."

"What?"

Camellia's cheeks flushed red. Since she'd teased me, I had to counterattack properly.

"I couldn't possibly stay still if you were crying, sis. If it would cheer you up, I'd do anything."

"Ah... y-yes, well..."

As expected, the counterattack landed cleanly—Camellia couldn't say another word. There was no better way to counter than pushing hard like that. Her face was bright red and she kept avoiding my gaze. She was probably annoyed at being hit with her own move. This was why the relaxed person always wins a keyboard battle. The one who gets heated first remains the eternal loser. Elves lose. That is their destiny.

Ricardo frowned as he watched us.

"You two are putting on quite the disgusting show."

It must have been unpleasant to watch two close comrades acting out a sitcom like this. I offered my condolences to his eyes for witnessing such a sight as we continued walking, and before long a massive door appeared. It was far too enormous to belong to a sewer beneath the city. And on that door... was the emblem of the Black Round Table engraved.

These crazy bastards. Why the hell are they spray-painting their logo on someone else's facility?

The air grew heavier the moment we spotted it.

"I'll open it, then."

Ricardo, now completely serious, pushed the door open. Inside stood two people radiating extraordinary presence. One of them appeared to be the bastard who had just sent that slash flying at us.