Thirty Thousand Leagues in Search of a Porter

A plaza in Serhan.

The click of heels rang out across the square. The city's residents turned to watch four women gliding past with effortless elegance, and a murmur rolled through the crowd like a rising tide.

"Oh my, look over there! That's Lady Nine, the Sword Saint Who Severed the Dragon's Neck! Look at that crimson hair! How can anyone be so beautiful?"

"That's not all! Lady Rebecca, the Unyielding Shield, is with her too!"

"...What's with those nicknames. So lame."

The words dropped from a young man leaning against a wall with a stalk of foxtail grass between his lips, and the feverish air around him went ice-cold in an instant.

"...You. I don't recognize that face. You wouldn't happen to be a demon, would you?"

"W-what? I just came up from the countryside yesterday. A demon? I'm not!"

"No, no. Think carefully now. Search that memory of yours."

"What are you—hey, let go of me! Baldy!"

Sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, the young man tried to bolt. But a sea of bodies had already closed around him in a tightening ring.

"Come to think of it... there was a rumor a few days back about a horned woman showing up at a village pharmacy..."

"It all fits together now. He's one of them, no question."

"Fits together? That rumor was from a village on the other side of the continent, right by the Tower!"

"Save your excuses for the execution grounds."

"Aaaagh! Get away from me!"

"Got him! Stomp him first!"

A crash of bodies and breaking things swallowed the square.

Nine's Party. The continent's treasure, a symbol of peace—four women who were strong, righteous, and beautiful. To tarnish their names in public was as good as social suicide.

Rohan Edwork, who had joined as a newly recruited porter, served at their side, and then voluntarily resigned for what he described as deeply personal reasons, was said to have given the following account.

No one ever saw Rohan again.

A child's footsteps pounded across the cobblestones. Then a thud—and the bright, ringing shatter of glass.

"...Ah."

A boy had been running with a milk bottle in his arms when he collided with Dorothy. The bottle exploded on impact, and a tide of white soaked the hem of her dress—woven from fabric so fine it could have paid a commoner's rent for a year.

"Pico!"

A woman who could only have been his mother came sprinting over, dropped to her knees, and gathered the child into her arms.

"I-I'm so sorry! He's still little... he doesn't know any better. If it's money you need, I'll pay you back, I swear I will!"

The onlookers shook their heads. One glance at the woman's threadbare apron—spattered with sauce and soup—was enough to tell them she could never afford to replace a dress like Dorothy's.

Dorothy stood with her enormous pointed hat pulled so low it hid her face entirely. Even a commoner could feel it on her skin: this woman was a wellspring of overwhelming mana.

"Lady Dorothy..."

Pale droplets of milk traced the folds of her skirt and fell, one by one, onto the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠toes of her high heels. The click of those heels drew closer to the mother still clutching her child.

"Hh..."

The woman held the boy tighter.

However saintly her reputation, Dorothy was first and foremost high nobility. The gulf between a restaurant waitress and a woman like that was the distance between heaven and earth. If she chose to snap both their necks right here in the square, no one would even think it strange. No one would dare condemn her for it.

And even without that kind of backing—a mage who had mastered high magic of every element could not be stopped by anyone standing here.

Dorothy reached out.

Then she crouched down and gently stroked the boy's hair.

She pushed back the hat she had been wearing so low, and smiled—bright and warm. A flush bloomed across the cheeks of every man watching.

"I'm sorry. Big sister's skirt drank up all your milk. Take this and go buy another one."

She pressed three gold coins into the child's palm.

Dorothy gave the boy one last gentle smile, then turned and walked on in her soaked skirt, heels clicking against the stone.

The crowd, throats tight with emotion, watched the Hero Party recede into the distance and raised a single voice of praise. Then, one by one, they offered up their prayers.

"They're angels. God has sent us angels—to we who have suffered such sorrow at the hands of the demonkin."

"Ahh, how warm. God's blessing upon those four women!"

"Dongha was right. Can't stand brats."

"Tell me about it, Dorothy. Your whole skirt's soaked. If nobody'd been around, you'd have turned that kid into an electric roast, huh?"

"...Pardon? Ah. Here they come."

Heavy, trudging footsteps approached. It was the mother from before.

"...Huh? You all are—"

"...Nine. That's not it."

"Ah. Ahem."

Swagger seeped into Nine's slouched frame as she leaned against the wall, and in a single breath she snapped into Sword Saint Mode.

"No need for that. These people are..."

Dorothy drew three more gold coins from her robes and set them in the woman's palm.

"That was a fine performance earlier. Here you are—three more on top of the advance I already gave you."

"Ohoho. Lady Dorothy, thank you so much!"

"Keep your voice down. I'll ask you one last time... you do understand what happens if you talk, yes?"

"O-of course! I'll take it to my grave! Pico, what happened today?"

Pico, who had been biting down on a gold coin to test it, tilted his head.

"...Today? What happened today?"

Dorothy's face lit with a look of deep satisfaction.

"That's it exactly. Your son has a very sharp mind."

"Yes. We're planning to send him down the academic track."

"Wonderful. Consider this a scholarship."

Dorothy produced one more gold coin and placed it in Pico's hand.

"Oh my! How generous can one person be!"

"That's enough flattery. You may go."

"Yes, Lady Dorothy! Blessings on your journey! Say goodbye, Pico!"

"Thanks for the sweet deal, Lady Dorothy!"

"They were actors? You should've told me."

"Absolutely not. Your facial acting is terribly stiff, Miss Rebecca."

"She's not wrong. But is it really all right, letting them walk away like that?"

"They're trustworthy. And besides... well. Who would believe a nobody like her even if she did talk?"

The other three chuckled at that. She was right, of course. A nameless commoner's handful of words was not going to bring their reputations crashing down.

To even come close to scratching that armor, you would need the kind of credibility someone like Rohan Edwork possessed—the former party member who had served as their porter. And they had disciplined even Rohan with what they affectionately called "tough love," sealing his lips beyond any doubt. Their fortress of fame would stand unshaken for a long time yet.

"It's been a while since we put on a little farce like this, hasn't it?"

Nine dropped out of Sword Saint Mode, slumping back to her usual languid self as she addressed Dorothy.

"Lately every new porter we take on quits almost immediately. Unsavory rumors could start circulating, so I figured it was time we put on a little demonstration."

"That's Dorothy for you. Not a single crack in the armor, is that it?"

"Exactly... otherwise, why would I have dressed up and walked all this way? Ugh, my legs hurt."

"So, Dorothy. Dongha's in there, right?"

Rebecca pointed at the door of the sage's house. Dorothy looked at her—this woman who would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ask the same question no matter how many times you explained it—and thought, Dongha was right. She really is a complete idiot.

"No, Miss Rebecca. We came here to find an Akashic Master."

"Oh! Right. So the Akashic Master's the one holding Dongha?"

Rebecca's boneheaded follow-up dragged an old memory to the surface of Dorothy's mind: a torrent of curses Dongha had once hurled at the woman sitting on top of him.

I agree with you, Dongha.

Fools made Dorothy's stomach turn, but what was she supposed to do about it? She had never once seen Rebecca take a real wound. Even when a pack of Magna Dragons had trampled her, she hadn't come away with so much as a scratch.

Would that transcendentally indestructible woman ever, in her entire life, actually get hit hard enough to pass out?

"The reason we came here is to show the Akashic Master our memories, so he can track down where Dongha is."

"Ohh. So that's it."

"Then we'll finally know where Dongha is."

Nine ran her tongue along the edge of her lips and smiled, slow and wicked.

A knock at the door.

"Do come in."

An old man's cracked voice called from within, as if he had been expecting them. Nine pushed the wooden door open.

The interior was closer to a library than a home.

An old man in a blue robe rose from a rocking chair at the center of the room and came toward them.

"Are you Daniel, one of the Akashic Masters?"

"Yes, that is correct. Please, come in, Heroes."

The old man looked frail, his vitality all but spent. Looking at him, it was hard to tell whether they were dealing with the ramblings of a senile elder or a man who genuinely commanded the power of memory.

Hmm...

The three Akashic Masters on the continent were each said to possess a different ability related to memory. They would need to know what this one's power actually was before they could find any lead on Baek Dongha.

"What is your ability?"

Three of them jolted in shock. Rebecca, who had not understood a thing, simply stared into the middle distance and kept popping cookies off the table into her mouth.

"...Foresight?"

"Forgive me for answering before you asked. Still, I've found this is the fastest way to dispel any doubts."

"Dorothy. If he sees memories of the future, not the past, how are we supposed to find Dongha with that?"

It was Dorothy's first conversation with someone who commanded the power of memory, and she was slightly thrown—but Nine's question was an easy one to answer.

You simply kept asking questions.

For instance: if we go to Nebed looking for Baek Dongha, will he be there? If the sage said no, you asked next: if we go to Toto Village, will he be there?

Keep throwing questions like that, and sooner or later, by process of elimination—

"Unfortunately, that would be impossible, Miss Dorothy. I can only see nearby memories—those of the near future. Distant ones appear only as occasional fragments. Which means I'm afraid I cannot find Mr. Dongha for you."

A shadow settled over Dorothy's face. The rest of the party wore the same look. It was the expression of someone staring at an empty ice cream tub in regret, only to find a notice online that the flavor had been discontinued.

"Then what about restoring erased memories? Is there a way to tell whether memories have been wiped?"

"To my knowledge, none of us possess the ability to restore lost memories. And so there is no way to know whether memories have been erased in the first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠place. I would advise you to abandon the idea of finding him through an Akashic Master."

To borrow Dongha's words... this is some real bullshit.

Dorothy was furious. A brittle old man who looked like he'd snap if you flicked him, putting on airs just because he had a bit of foresight, telling them to give up the search—who did he think he was?

Fire mana coiled around her fingertips, flickering and hungry.

Master, my ass. Want me to cremate this useless old man?

Hah.

Dorothy held herself back, which was rare for her. If she lost her temper here, they might never find Baek Dongha at all.

"Daniel. There are three Akashic Masters in total, are there not?"

"That is correct."

"Then tell us ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where the other two are, and what their abilities are."

"...Hmm."

He hesitated. Nine pulled out an enormous coin purse and dropped it on the desk.

"...I did not ask for money."

"Tell us. Please."

"We're asking."

"Please."

"Got any coffee? These cookies'd be great dipped in coffee."

Daniel's face twisted with something like pain.

"I cannot tell you. Please do not make this old man into a murderer."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The truth is... I just glimpsed a fragment of your future. You must not seek out the next Akashic Master. Though I suppose you will go no matter what I say."

"Why? Spit it out."

Nine barely restrained the urge to lock the stalling old man in the same triangle choke she used to put on Baek Dongha every single day.

"At the hands of an Akashic Master... you will be gravely injured."

The three of them stared at him, dumbfounded. It had been a very long time since anyone had worried about them like this.

"Pff—"

Then they burst out laughing.

"Ahaha! The other Akashic Master must be incredibly powerful, then!"

"To borrow Dongha's words, sounds like this one actually packs a punch. Hahaha!"

"Ah. The way you said it all serious-like makes it even funnier."

Someone is worried about you, and this is how you behave. How rude, Daniel thought.

"Well then, Mr. Daniel. If you saw a future where we die, you must have also seen where and how we get hurt. Where is it?"

Dorothy asked, her face still full of laughter.

"...Hah. I'll simply tell you, then. Your going there is already a fixed future. But I have a request in exchange."

"What is it?"

"Will you grant it?"

"Of course."

That's a lie...

Daniel knew better than anyone that it could not be changed, and still he could not stop himself from trying to turn them aside.

"Please do not go there."

His words were a bundle of contradictions. He would tell them the location only after extracting a promise not to go—even though their going was already a certainty.

And still he said it, because he wanted to stop a future that could not be stopped.

The truth was that he knew it better than anyone. The things that are going to happen... happen.

In this world, the Black Tower could mean only one thing: the hundred-floor tower where the demonkin dwelled. For reasons they could not explain, they had gone all this time without once thinking of the Tower's existence—and now a current of electricity shot through their minds.

"If it's the Tower, that's where I sliced Leviathan—ghk!!"

Nine's scream tore through the room, and at the same instant a vise closed around the other two women's skulls.

"Ah... the moment I thought about the Tower, nngh... it feels like my head's going to split open."

"...Same here."

"Me as well."

Daniel spoke to Nine as she clutched her head and groaned.

"Hmm. Perhaps that place is connected to the memories you may have forgotten."

The four of them looked at one another. Their next destination had been decided.

"...Hah."

"What is it, Master? Did you see a dark future?"

The apprentice, who had been listening to Daniel's sigh, asked quietly.

"I saw a very sad future."

"...Then why didn't you lie more?"

"You know as well as I do. The future does not change, no matter what."