Upon This Earth (4)
Was spending a rainy night without a campfire or waterproof tarp really nothing more than a dream after all?
I woke in the middle of the night. The chill creeping up from inside my skin, rather than merely settling on the surface, was vicious enough to drag me out of sleep.
“…Guess not.”
Honestly. On the road from Ednium to Camborer the rain had come too, and I’d managed then, so I’d thought maybe I could manage again. Apparently that had been asking too much.
Sangun had been a variable last time, sure, but I hadn’t expected the difference to be this stark.
…No. Still, lasting this long was pretty good.
I rummaged through my inventory. Having organized it while I was alone, everything was sorted neatly by type. I found what I wanted in moments.
A stone heated in a furnace. It retains warmth. Careless handling may cause burns.
My own little preparation for independence. A bit of a cheat, really, exploiting the fact that the inventory preserved items exactly as they were when stored. The stones were heavy and bulky, so I hadn’t been able to pack many.
I pulled out a few and pressed them against certain parts of my body. Of course I never let them touch bare skin. I didn’t care for burns either.
“…….”
Mm. The cold didn’t vanish all at once. Then again, a single sheet of cloth made a surprisingly large difference.
I fidgeted discreetly and drew my coat tighter. There was a blanket in the inventory, and the fact that they couldn’t see me was something I simply ignored.
Because if the cold still refused to leave even after I covered myself with a blanket, I would have to give that cold another name entirely.
Drip, drip, drip.
And at last the night that had felt like an endless winter passed, and the rain stopped.
“Good heavens!!”
My body was soaked through from the rain, yet with mana and the heated stones I was managing a decent enough morning. So what was this scream about?
“Wh-what? What’s wrong?”
“S-s-s-s-someone’s here.”
I had risen as the sky began to brighten, and that was when I heard the peddler’s scream—he had just woken as well. Apparently he had only now registered my existence.
“A-a-a-a ghost?”
“…….”
Am I really that scary…? Berserk had gotten up without a sound for her dawn training and no one had said a word…
I felt a little dejected.
“That person is human.”
“I-I see…….”
Still, if you looked at my track record—making not a single sound all night, then rising silently from a tree—and with that dark, gloomy appearance of mine…
Upon reflection, I couldn’t really complain about being called a ghost.
I discarded the dejection and reflected. My fault. Ahaha.
Neigh.
More than that, Frederick, you really are punctual.
Following the stablehand’s instructions to feed him the moment dawn broke, I hurriedly handed over the grain feed. I also heeded the warning that his temper was foul and I should keep clear while he ate.
Thanks to the waterproof tarp he wasn’t soaked, but the dampness from the humidity left his coat slightly clammy; under the brush it lay down in even lines.
“You didn’t hear the horse?”
“No, I… assumed it was one of the horses you lot brought. Or the wind.”
“Ah…….”
Good. Since it was still dark I’d stop here and get something to eat myself. I could brush him again at lunch.
After a decent enough brushing I sat beside Frederick and pulled a meal from my inventory.
Not being able to cook without a campfire was no great problem for me. The inventory, after all, was an invincible cheat key!
Clack.
I opened my meal, my provisions, the lifeline that kept me going: a special boxed lunch I’d commissioned from the place where the bookstore owner’s younger sibling worked.
Just like the heated stones, it came out in exactly the same state as when I’d stored it. Still piping hot, as if freshly made.
For reference, I had thirty of these boxed lunches. At three meals a day, five of them would have been enough for two days—or, considering Berserk and the Inquisitor’s appetites, maybe only one—yet now they amounted to ten days’ worth.
Truly, looking after only myself and excluding everyone else was this convenient. The number of things I had to worry about shrank dramatically.
At that thought I felt a little comfort and a great deal of discomfort, and I nibbled away at the contents of the lunch.
Bean soup, smoked fish, a boiled egg, and bread that doubled as the dish. For a meal eaten while camping rough, the food was downright luxurious as it disappeared into my mouth one after another.
“Uh, milord, about breakfast… Ah. You’ve already eaten…….”
Strange, though. The food was hot enough to scald my mouth, so why did it turn so cold the moment it reached my stomach?
I clenched my fist as I watched the person who had approached, only to retreat again. He and the rest of the group were only now watching the soup come to a boil.
The difference between me, who only needed to eat, and them, who had to start cooking the moment they woke. Since I wasn’t a slow eater to begin with, the gap would only widen.
“Let’s go.”
Neigh.
I might as well make use of that time.
To hide the complicated feeling, I took Frederick’s reins to water him. Everyone would be fixed in place while they ate, so I could wash my face lightly while I was at it.
“Ah, Demon Knight. You’re not going alone, are you…….”
As if I would. I wondered whether I had put so much distance between us that even this much trust was gone, then brushed the thought aside.
This wasn’t something I needed to answer. It was a matter of waiting until time passed and unspoken rules formed on their own.
“He’s only going to water the horse. No need to worry.”
The Archmage already knew, after all.
“Ah, so, companions. You are companions, right?”
“…We’re traveling together, yes.”
“Yes, Adventurer! The stream’s closer that way! I nearly tripped over it while we were running yesterday, so I’m certain!”
Oh, really? If it was closer that way, then of course I’d go there. Following the peddler’s advice, I changed direction.
Frederick followed slowly at the pull of the reins in my hand.
Before long, a little off the road, the brook the peddler had mentioned appeared.
“This… won’t work.”
There was one problem. Last night’s rain had deepened the stream, which was good, but at the same time it had churned up the muddy bottom and fouled the water.
Should I have gone the other way?
No. I doubted the other side would have escaped the same muddy fate.
I settled for a dry wipe around my mouth, then tugged the reins a little farther upstream.
Upstream the water might be cleaner. I held onto that faint hope.
Pru-ru-ru.
Stop snorting. You don’t want to drink that water either. Not thinking to catch rainwater beforehand was my mistake, of course.
“……?”
Then, suddenly, at the end of the brook’s flow, I spotted a single hut. Its exterior, thick with moss and weeds, spoke of long neglect.
“That must be the place the merchant mentioned.”
As I drew near the hut, the stream ran much cleaner.
I let Frederick drink his fill while I stepped closer to the hut.
“…Doesn’t look like the owner simply died of old age.”
There were subtle traces that couldn’t be dismissed as mere products of time. Even I, no expert, could tell.
Traces like the building having been sheared clean through, or a wall with a gaping hole, and the like.
“Doesn’t seem decades old.”
The wall could have collapsed naturally over time, true. Yet aside from the signs of destruction the building was relatively intact. The amount of weeds and dust inside, from what little I could see, said the same.
By my untrained eye, this place might have been abandoned for a few years, but not ten or twenty.
Creak.
After checking that Frederick was fine, I entered through the collapsed wall. The floor creaked and groaned, but not enough to make me fear it would give way.
My gaze shifted. Half-wrecked furniture came into view first. The disordered state reminded me of crime-scene dramas.
“So there really was a fight.”
I idly struck the pose of a detective captain from those dramas and followed the traces of combat. Thud. Something touched my foot.
A skeleton wrapped in scraps of clothing.
“May the deceased rest in peace.”
Who was it? The owner after all?
I paid my respects and offered a prayer for the dead, yet curiosity made me stare, and… I found a dagger still clutched in the skeleton’s hand. The initials P. B. were engraved on the blade in elegant script.
Ha.
Suddenly a sharp laugh rang through my mind. My own laugh. No. I hadn’t laughed, so this wasn’t mine……
The sins carved upon this earth have crossed the ages to find me.
Mine……?
“——!!”
In that instant my arm burned as if it were being seared away. Crunch. Something was wrong.
“Aagh……!”
I clutched my right arm and doubled over. The intensity of the pain was comparable to being struck all over by holy power, but the real problem lay elsewhere.
Holy power battered the entire body, dispersing the agony, yet now the pain concentrated solely in my right arm.
In short, holy power hit ten places at strength five, while this one place was being hammered relentlessly at strength ten.
The total damage from holy power might be greater, but what I felt as more tormenting was this.
It hurt. It hurt too much.
“Ugh…….”
Would cutting the arm off be easier?
I curled forward, right arm still wrapped in my grip. Thanks to the pain-threshold adjustment I never developed resistance, and this wasn’t a battle where tension and fear could drown the pain. This single bout was unusually hard to endure.
Ah, how dull.
“……!”
Fortunately the pain stopped almost as soon as it began. The moment I finally closed my hand around the dagger.
“Hah, hah.”
I gasped for the breath the agony had stolen and slowly pushed myself upright.
My head throbbed and strength drained from my whole body. Thud. Halfway to standing, my legs gave out and I collapsed again.
Getting up would take a little more time.
“What are you doing, Knight?”
A shadow fell over me. Berserk.
“Need help?”
It didn’t seem like a question that required an answer, yet… ever since I had refused her, Berserk was the one who respected my wishes the most. Not asking would have been stranger.
“…No.”
If it had been the Inquisitor or Deathbringer, a single reply would have been taken as hope and they would only have grown more persistent. Berserk would not.
Drawing on everything I had experienced so far, I answered quietly. Then I closed my eyes and waited for the soundless footsteps to leave.
Lurch.
“……?!”
What was this?
Pressure around my waist startled me. In that brief span the arm that had looped around me was already lifting my entire body.
“You……!”
I had answered precisely because I was certain she would respect the refusal. That had been my trust!
Even you, Berserk……!
Creak, creak.
Berserk carried me out of the building. I tried to resist, but the body that had been clenched tight with pain still refused to obey me.
Thud.
The one mercy was that Berserk set me down in front of the stream rather than hauling me all the way back to camp.
“Wash up and come.”
So I had gained a chance to wash my face after all.
I glared after Berserk’s unhesitating departure, then decided there might be some meaning in the act and dipped my hands into the brook. Only Berserk herself would know what she was thinking, that much was certain.
“…This is pretty pathetic.”
Washing my face while sprawled in front of a stream. What had become of me? Truly undignified.
Still, I had no other choice. I heaved a long sigh, washed my face, and once strength returned to my legs I stripped off my coat and splashed water over my whole body. Better to dry soaked in stream water than in sweat.
Pru-ru-ru.
“…Wait.”
I soothed Frederick, who was giving me a look that asked what came next, and finished washing. With the pain nearly gone, thoughts about the incident began flooding in.
Why had the pain manifested? If there was a cause, what had pulled the trigger? Could it recur later? Was there a way to prevent it?
Yet almost nothing came to mind. At best a vague guess that this place itself might be the cause.
And that laugh from earlier……
I was seized again by the sensation of my right arm burning and reflexively clutched it.
Probably phantom pain… but even that was enough to make me frown.
“…Things just keep getting weirder.”
I didn’t know. I picked up the eyepatch I had set aside while washing and rose with difficulty. My legs no longer seemed ready to give out.
Neigh.
“Don’t rush me.”
I tossed Frederick an apple by way of apology, then re-entered the building. I worried the pain might return, but something more important waited.
The dagger the skeleton had clutched until death now rested in my hand. It would help identify this person and, just maybe, illuminate the Demon Knight’s past.
Honestly, what had just happened could not have occurred without reason.
“…I’ll borrow this for a while.”
In return I used my two-hander to dig a grave for him.
Calling it payment for the dagger felt wrong, yet it was the best I could do.
The stream water I had doused myself with ran down my body like sweat.
Thud, thud, thud.
“Hoo.”
Ah, digging with a two-hander is ridiculously hard.
After about five minutes of struggle I managed a small pit large enough for the skeleton.
Lucky that every scrap of flesh and muscle was already gone; if the corpse had been fresh I would have suffered far more carving out the volume.
Thunk.
This should be good enough. I fashioned a rough cross from wood, drove it into the mound, and piled a heap of stones on top.
That was the form of a simple grave I knew, so that was what I made. This world didn’t seem to bury its dead all that differently.
“Uh, milord!”
“See? I told you he hadn’t left!”
“You were the one fretting.”
“Th-that’s because you kept scaring me……!”
“More importantly, where did milord go leaving only the horse?”
“Dunno… Ah, I think he’s over there.”
“Milord? What are you doing inside?”
Still, just this felt a little incomplete.
I covered the smile that had risen unbidden at the chatter with one hand and considered what was missing. I tried recalling scenes from foreign dramas or Korean dramas where someone visited a grave.
Flowers. Flowers were missing.
“Ah, a grave…….”
“…You made it alone?”
But I had no flowers now. Gathering them while staying in character would have looked odd as well.
So what choice did I have? I would have to fall back on a Korean-style memorial offering.
Thud.
I took out the apples, bananas, blueberries, and pears I had bought as snacks for Frederick and laid them out one by one.
If I had liquor I would have poured some, but unfortunately I had none. As for a full bow… I might have managed if they had arrived later, but they were already here, so that was out.
I poured water in place of liquor as a final gesture and left the spot. The two who had been watching from a distance trailed after me.
“You could have let us help…….”
It would have been easier for me too… but taking the dagger would certainly have drawn questions. They might even have made a fuss if they saw me writhing in pain.
Better to just do it alone.
I let their words slide past my ears, took Frederick’s reins, and headed back to camp.
Bemyurhen was still a long way off.
“Word is the Hero is coming here.”
“Oh, so the war with the mermen is finally ending?”
“Who knows. Watching what the Hero does, it might be worth looking forward to.”
Cheongsanho—Great Sage who oversaw the Magic Tower of Bemyurhen, master of essence magic, known as Surging Cheongsanho—answered the castle lord with indifferent calm.
The castle lord pursed his lips and hurled the liquor bottle he was holding.
Crash.
“Castle Lord, I believe I told you to stop throwing bottles in my room.”
Cheongsanho shattered the glass bottle without even turning around. The castle lord’s lips jutted out even farther.
“It’s not like it matters anyway.”
“Someone has to clean it up. If that someone isn’t going to be you, then stop.”
With a soft flutter Cheongsanho closed the letter he had been reading. The glasses perched on his nose swayed on their chain.
Clink, clink.
In the meantime, at a gesture from Cheongsanho, the shards scattered across the floor began to melt with a clear ringing sound. They gathered and solidified into a rough shape—an image of the castle lord slaying a merman.
“Cold as ever.”
“Castle Lord, you are the inefficient one.”
Cheongsanho returned the newly formed glass figurine to the castle lord.
“If you want a statue, simply ask for one. I am not so pressed for time that I would refuse even your petty requests.”
“What is that touching line supposed to mean?”
“But if there is nothing more important to discuss, leave. I have two troublesome commissions.”
“…Figures.”
“What were you expecting?”
Cheongsanho regarded the castle lord, who always spouted nonsense, with nothing but incomprehension.
Judging that the man would not leave quietly again today, he brought out his own work. “Honestly, when it comes to bringing me interesting yet troublesome research topics, you take first place,” he added, half complaint and half not.
“What’s that?”
“Material for a sword.”
“A sword?”
Cheongsanho reread the enclosed letter carefully, then cast a spell for a more thorough examination. The composition of the enormous bone was analyzed and precise information appeared.
“No matter how I look at it, it’s bone… but whose bone is this? It’s far too large for an ordinary beast.”
“Hm.”
The castle lord’s chatter at his side was familiar. Instead of answering, Cheongsanho rang a bell with magic. A moment later the attendant on duty came running.
“You called for me?”
“Fetch my grandson. Tell him I need his hands for a sword and accessory-type items; he’ll understand.”
“Yes.”
The attendant had barely entered before receiving the order and turning right back around.
“Are you ignoring me? And do you really need to call that kid for this?”
“Castle Lord, I am under no obligation to explain to you the details of a commission I received privately.”
“Don’t be so stingy.”
“Mind your words. You are the one being unreasonable.”
“Werner!”
“If you two are going to keep fighting, can I just leave again?”
“Hm?”
“Huh.”
Cheongsanho broke off the argument and turned toward the voice. The face he had summoned—far sooner than expected—stood in the doorway.
“You’re early.”
“I was speaking with Sage Karl right outside.”
“Perfect. Come help with the work.”
“Payment?”
“I heard you’re after one of the materials from Gridana.”
“You’ll buy it for me?”
“Yes.”
“Deal.”
Cheongsanho, who knew his grandson well, did not drag the conversation out. Neither did the grandson.
Instead of haggling endlessly they sealed the bargain in a single exchange.
“…Hello? Am I invisible?”
“When someone tries to visit every day with nothing to do, even greeting them every time becomes tiresome.”
“…You really scream ‘Werner’s grandson’ with your whole body.”
“Thank you. So what am I carving?”
“The accessory-type items need more estimation, so those later. What we do right now is this.”
Cheongsanho pointed to the enormous bone resting on the workbench.
“You’ve heard that an Ancient Beast of the east was hunted. This is its bone.”
At the unexpected identity, the castle lord—who had been thinking at most of a demon’s bone—went wide-eyed, and the grandson’s eyebrows rose.
“That… sounds fun.”
The genius who at the age of twenty had claimed the title of Grandmaster Craftsman sparkled with interest.