Ego Weapons (2)
My darkened vision brightened, revealing a vast plain stretching before me. A field dotted with scattered trees and thick with grass. In the distance, mountain ranges pierced the horizon, and rivers snaked through the land.
The Great Plains?
Anyone else might have gasped in awe, like they were staring at a painting or a scene from a movie. But I just frowned. And why not? I'd been staring at this exact landscape for sixteen years.
Why the hell am I back here?
I'd clearly escaped this place.
A dream?
I started walking forward. The crunch of grass under my feet. Distant bird calls. The wind rustling my hair. It all felt too damn real.
What if this is reality, and my escape was the dream?
My heart skipped a beat. Escaping to the civilized world. Brushing death multiple times. Meeting all sorts of people. Was all that just a mirage?
"What the...?"
I let out a hollow chuckle. The emptiness hit hard.
Ha. I worked my ass off for nothing...
How do you even describe this feeling? Like deleting your save file after grinding a game for months. Utterly shitty.
"Ah, my ego weapons..."
And the shittiest part? I never even got to swing them. Those three perfectly forged axes.
Feeling the wave of futility, I kept walking. First things first, head back to the village. Then plot my escape again. Same as always.
But where exactly am I?
I tilted my head. Yeah, definitely the Great Plains. But I couldn't pinpoint my location. Weird as hell.
I knew the Great Plains like the back of my hand. I could navigate blindfolded. So how was I lost?
Just pick a direction. Something'll turn up.
Maybe I'd wandered too far. I did that sometimes when I was in a good mood.
About ten minutes later, silhouettes appeared in the distance. A boy and two girls. The boy was stocky, with a mischievous, impish look that screamed troublemaker. The girls were tiny and adorable, like living dolls.
The boy gripped their hands protectively. Looked like big brother and little sisters.
I cocked my head.
Kids out here?
Runaways? Lost? I started worrying. The Great Plains were brutal wilderness. No way kids could roam alone without guardians.
"Hey, kids! What are you doing out here?"
I shouted loud. Didn't matter what tribe they were from—I had to get them back. Unspoken rule among Great Plains warriors. Even if it was a hostile tribe.
"What village you from? Tell me, I'll take you home!"
I rushed over. No answer. They just stared up at me, like they were studying me.
"Which village? Don't know?"
"..."
"Can't talk? Not locals? Outsiders then?"
Come to think of it, they looked oddly refined. Skin glowing like they'd just showered and lotioned up.
"Ugh, whatever. Come with me for now. Dangerous here."
I held out my hand. No reaction. Just smiling eyes locked on mine. That deep gaze made me flinch—then suddenly, all three lunged and hugged me tight.
"Whoa?"
I awkwardly hugged back. They smelled like milk. And faintly of iron.
Soft skin against me, then the boy spoke.
"Balun."
"Huh?"
"Balun. Like."
I panicked. How do they know my name?
"Go together."
"G-go?"
"Yeah. Together."
"Uh, okay."
I shoved the confusion aside and offered my hand. They grabbed it. My vision slowly whitened, then went pure white.
When I opened my eyes again, a slender, delicate hand was waving in my face.
"Balun. Balun? Snap out of it."
"Nngh?"
"Finally awake, huh."
I blinked. Seria stood there, smirking like I was ridiculous.
"Seria?"
"Never met anyone like you. How do you do a thirty-hour imprint ritual? Your affinity must be insane. Even my kin can't pull that off."
"You weren't fake?"
"What?"
"You were from the dream."
"What the hell's he on about?"
I suddenly remembered. I'd dripped blood on the ego weapons. Then saw the three kids on the Great Plains.
"The Great Plains was a dream."
I sighed in relief. Of course. After all that hell I went through to get here.
A grin crept up.
"Balun. What happened in the imprint ritual to keep you under for thirty hours?"
"Had a dream."
"Dream?"
"Of home. Saw three kids there."
I told Seria every detail. Her eyes went wide.
"That wasn't a dream."
"Not?"
"Your Mental World."
"Mental World?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. The world in your mind. You peeked into your own Mental World!"
My head tilted. No clue what she meant. Philosophy?
"A guy who can't even handle mana peeked into his Mental World? Your affinity's off the charts."
She looked weirdly excited.
"That big a deal?"
"Big deal? Hell yes! Not just anyone can do it. Only martial masters or high-rank mages—seventh circle and up!"
I blinked. Masters and seventh circle? Didn't click, but high mages did. Only elites experience it.
Made me curious.
"What's a Mental World that's only for such big shots? Good to see?"
"Obviously! Symbol of true experts. Needs heaven-sent talent plus bone-crushing effort. You seeing yours? Impossible!"
"Kinda get it."
Honestly, nah. Sounded like shaman bullshit to my modern mind. But magic's real here, so probably legit.
"Anyway, it's good. That's what matters."
"Not just good... whatever. Can't explain to a barbarian."
"So I'm an expert now? Saw the thing."
"Nah. You can't wield aura or magic. Expert? Please."
I grumbled at her cold tone.
No aura or magic, not an expert? Bullshit.
Can't do that doesn't mean not expert. Just smash skulls same way.
Hated this unfair world. I'd grind Reinforcement Technique harder out of spite. Come at me, aura nerds, magic nerds. Smash your pots.
"Dunno exactly how you saw it. But I can guess."
"What?"
"Spirit affinity and mental fortitude. Probably those. You're exceptional there."
I tilted my head. Mental fortitude? Eh, endurance, grit—makes sense. But spirit affinity?
"Your freakish spirit affinity's probably 'cause you're barbarian. Raised in nature's embrace."
"Ah, yeah."
This life's pure natural man.
"Barbarians generally have high spirit affinity. You're top-tier."
Seria continued.
"Three kids, right?"
"Yeah. Cute ones."
"Those were your axes. Their spirits. Pure spirit souls."
"What?"
I looked down at the axes. These sleek beauties were the kids?
"Anyone else would've seen faint lights. Ritual over in a minute. But you saw them clear? Thirty hours?"
Seria tapped the axes.
"Means you pierced their essence. Deep immersion. Bonded."
Immersion my ass. Total dream. But yeah, cute kids.
"Impressive. Be proud. Seeing essence means you unlock more of their potential."
I gripped an axe. Grip felt perfect.
"Doesn't feel real."
"What?"
"That these are the kids."
"Fair. Even I'm stunned. Forged tons, but few customers pierced essence like you."
I started to swing, then froze. Kids inside, right? Mental World whatever—they talked there. Called my name.
Big axe the boy, small ones the girls?
Fits perfect.
"Can't swing it."
"Why?"
"Child abuse."
"Huh?"
"Child abuse. Huge crime!"
I set the axe down gently, like a new car owner.
Staring lovingly, Seria burst out laughing.
"You're hilarious. Gonna baby them forever?"
"Nah."
"Then swing away. Born for it."
Seria added,
"Think of it like this. Knight scared to ride horse 'cause it's heavy?"
"I'd ride."
"Exactly. Abuse? Nah. Use 'em hard. Kids want that too."
I eyed the axes, thinking, You lot battle maniacs like my tribesmen, blood-crazed?
They vibrated. Bzzz!
All three trembled.
My eyes widened.
"Whoa! See that?"
"Saw. They like you. Usually takes five years of bonding for vibes like that..."
"Vibration feature. High-tech!"
"What?"
"On/off switch?"
"...?"
Seria's face filled with question marks.
* * *
After handing over the ego weapons, Seria returned to the forge. Come back anytime with questions, she said.
I headed straight to the training grounds. Test the new toys.
Heh. How badass are they?
Heart pounding. Knowing they'd survive my Reinforcement Technique had me hyped. How I'd craved this weapon. No more ditching axes for reinforcement. Now we merge as one.
Hand axes first.
I gripped them double-handed. Deep breath, priming muscles.
"There you are, Balun."
Sudden voice. Philip.
"What?"
"Visitor for you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Asked for you specifically."
I tilted my head.
"Sorry to interrupt training. Better go."
"Got it. Right away."
I dressed properly, sheathed weapons, went to the reception room.
A mage in blue robes. Same style as Banet—Blue Tower.
Greasy-looking bastard.
Shines like he drips oil. Bad first impression.
Blue Tower got no lookers? One's got that mustache, this one's slick.
"You wanted me?"
"Yes. Allow me to introduce. I tread the path of magic. Seeker of arcane mastery. Gregory of the Blue Tower. Honored to meet the famous one."
Gregory bowed politely, smiling.
I tilted my head.
"Famous? Me?"
"Yes. You smashed Wolf Blade. Word's spreading beyond Pordel. Adventurers dying to meet Balun."
"Huh."
I nodded vaguely. Been holed up in guild HQ a week—makes sense.
But 'smashed'? Overkill.
Party involved might get pissed.
"So, what's up? Another invite?"
"We'd love to invite you to Blue Tower. But that's personal. Here officially for a commission."
"Commission?"
"Yes. Need your strength. Help us. Generous pay."
Pay? I perked up. Fair trade? Different story.
"Let's hear it."
"Mercenary, straight to money, eh? Succeed, and three hundred gold's yours."
"What?"
"Tempting, right?"
Gregory's smile deepened, brimming confidence. Obvious. Who turns down that gold? Even barbarian mercs can't resist.
Trust? No issue. Blue Tower—one of world's seven great towers. Untouchable rep.
But he misjudged me hard.
Blue Tower who? This guy's sus.
Too much gold triggered my paranoia. How dangerous to pay that much?