There's Still Hope (1)
It wasn't that I disliked the idea of heading to the next city. Ten days felt like more than enough rest.
Besides, with the sealing cuff nearly complete, my concept wouldn't stay idle much longer. I might be watching my step after that rampage, but I wasn't the type to meekly fall in line for the rest of my life either.
It was about time we left to hunt demons somewhere else.
The matter of recruiting a new companion was something I could welcome, too. In the game the Archmage had been famous as a nuker—someone who could dump massive damage in a single burst—but once realistic constraints kicked in, he turned out to be a rather mediocre dealer.
Casting times were far too long—standing planted like a statue while chanting—and the preparation required was enormous. Fine for a siege or a raid, maybe, but in our current reality of constant movement and chaotic brawls, he was an awkward fit at best.
More often than not he provided support of various kinds from the rear rather than joining the fight directly.
Dev? Dev didn't count. I hadn't brought him along for combat power in the first place. The work he already handled was more than enough to pull his weight.
So yes—we definitely needed a new companion, and one who could actually fight.
"The colosseum… you say?"
What threw me off right now was something else. Ten days had been plenty of rest, sure, but part of me still wanted to play a little longer.
It was the same scream every office worker lets out: The weekend's already over?!
"Yes. I'm certain we will find talent worth having. Even if we fail to recruit anyone, the place will be thick with the strong, so we may at least test our own power."
The fact that it was a colosseum specifically also stuck in my craw. Dusting off my memories of the original, there was one class that came to mind first whenever colosseums were mentioned.
"What's the colosseum called?"
"Ainoxar. The one in Far Enoch."
Of course, if that class's official character joined the party, our burdens would lighten…
…Mmm. I wasn't sure this would turn out all right.
That class's character was every bit as impossible to communicate with as my own concept.
"…Isn't that place near the southern front?"
While I fretted, Dev pointed out a different problem. The Archmage had already considered it; he answered smoothly.
"No need to worry on that score. The southern front is safer than one might think. The very fact that they can afford the leisure of a colosseum is proof enough, is it not? Going there will not bring disaster."
He added that of the four fronts—east, west, south, and north—the southern was the safest by far, and that gaining experience there would be worthwhile.
It was persuasive enough. If we had to face the fronts eventually, starting with the lowest-level one and building experience step by step was ideal.
Especially since we couldn't teleport around and travel took forever.
"No, it's just…"
Dev's worry didn't ease so easily. The eyes under his hood slid toward me.
"There's also the young master's… situation."
In a flash, a forgotten piece of lore surfaced.
Right. I had the setting that I'd never once gone to the front lines, using the hypothesis that the demon inside me would go even more berserk if I entered the Demon Realm as my excuse.
"I have fretted over that point as well. And yet… you know as well as I. So long as we walk this road together, there will come a day when we must set foot in the Demon Realm."
I watched the Archmage's gaze shift from Dev to me. Those ice-blue eyes that called snowfields to mind were clouded with worry. Even he seemed to harbor doubts about his own proposal.
"And the sealing cuff has just been developed, has it not? Let us use this chance to test it. Whether you truly cannot enter the Demon Realm, or whether the cuff's power can overcome it."
"But the risk is far too—!"
"I think it's a good idea."
Dev looked ready to object, but the Inquisitor cast her vote in favor. Of course, the moment the words left her mouth her face said oops.
"If the Demon Knight is unwilling, I have no intention of forcing the matter. But if you are inclined to try, I will take responsibility for what follows. I am confident this time."
Now that was a statement that inspired trust.
I swallowed the laugh that tried to burst out and slipped into character. How would the concept react in a situation like this?
The calculation didn't take long.
"We go."
Of course the concept wouldn't back down here. Realistically, backing down now would tangle every future development.
I touched the place where the sealing cuff would sit and cut the debate short. Dev looked as if he still had something to say, but the words never left his mouth.
Our next destination was decided.
At dawn the next day, White Wind came bouncing back—the same White Wind who had dashed out declaring she only needed to fix the durability.
Perfect timing. We had already agreed to depart the moment the sealing cuff was finished.
"Since it's the finished product, I put some real work into the design!"
…I wasn't a designer by origin or trade, but I didn't think I was completely fashion-blind either. What exactly had changed?
"Until now you wore it over your clothes, but from now on it goes straight onto the arm! I cast a spell so you can't take it off yourself!"
With a complicated feeling I accepted the crude ring-shaped sealing cuff. I had no intention of putting on a strip show in front of everyone—even if I stripped, all they'd see was a torso carefully wrapped in bandages—so I planned to put it on later.
"I made a spare in case it breaks, so take this one too. If anything feels inconvenient in daily life or needs improvement, let me know through that friend of yours! I'll keep refining it!"
"No need to worry on that account. I shall take responsibility for the correspondence."
"Mmm-hmm, you're trustworthy enough!"
White Wind cackled, declared her work done, and vanished like the wind. She lived up to the nickname.
"…You've worked hard all this time."
Well… matching her energy while staying in character had been exhausting, but if you thought about it, the developer White Wind had probably suffered more.
I ran my fingertips over the sealing cuff she had made a few more times.
Come to think of it, I hadn't even managed a thank-you, let alone paid her a fee. The former was impossible under my concept, but I could have offered the latter. Missed the chance.
Was that all right?
"Put it on and come back. We shall prepare the horses in the meantime. Shall I accompany you?"
"Unnecessary."
…If the Archmage wasn't saying anything, it was probably fine.
I accepted his consideration and stepped away for a moment. Borrowing an unused room, I immediately fitted the sealing cuff onto my right arm.
My total mana shrank, and at the same time a corner of my head felt clearer. Not exactly refreshing, though.
"……"
I pulled my clothes back on and, before fastening the gauntlet, re-wrapped the slightly loosened bandage around my right hand. In the process I saw the skin dyed pitch black, but I let it pass.
I saw it every time I washed. I was used to it now.
Just as wrapping the bandages had become routine, just as tightening the eyepatch so it wouldn't slip yet still felt comfortable had become routine.
Or just as I no longer startled at a body utterly different from my original one.
…Was it because the holiday was over and it was time to work again? I was getting unexpectedly sentimental.
I shook the sudden thought away. Slap, slap. A light tap on both cheeks brought my mind back into sharp focus.
Shirt, vest, coat, gauntlets—layered on one after another in order.
Ah, and under the shirt I also strapped on the new Chest Protector. Roughly the design you'd picture for an archer's chest guard… but with the shirt and vest over it, no one would notice. Good enough.
Now I only needed to check my expression one last time and fix it. Then I would be ready.
"Um, excuse me… could I ask for directions? I seem to have gotten lost… ahaha."
But who was this?
The room I had used to change was the one I'd occupied for the past few days. On top of that, the lodgings we stayed in were separate from the ordinary visitor quarters the temple provided.
No matter how lost someone got… could they really wander all the way here?
Thinking of my pathologically direction-challenged cousin, maybe it was possible.
"I'm looking for the quarters I was assigned, but no matter how I look, none of these rooms seem to belong to my party…"
I glanced at the word Gridana written across her chest, then walked on without answering. Partly because she gave me a bad feeling, and partly because I didn't know where the regular lodgings were either, so I couldn't help her.
"Uh, does that mean I should follow you?"
Still, getting angry and telling her to get lost entirely felt a bit much.
I left the person trailing after me to her own devices. For a while an uncomfortable silence pressed down on the air around us.
"…By the way, is it all right to wear full armor to Far Enoch? It's a desert—it'll be hot."
"No need to worry. I tested it just last night."
"Tested?"
"I artificially made a room stiflingly hot. Since it incorporates scales of the Sea Dragon, I wondered whether the power of water might dwell within… and the prediction proved correct."
"The power of water…"
"Nothing particularly grand. Merely that it resists rust easily, and that wherever one is, one feels a coolness as if submerged. If taken further, one would endure immersion better than ordinary folk."
"That's not 'nothing'! That's completely amazing! It means you won't suffer from the heat at all!"
And then we reached the stable where the others were waiting.
The person behind me realizing this wasn't the lodgings and making a somewhat dazed sound was none of my business. She could ask the stable hand for directions.
"Damn, must feel great, pilfering fine armor off a knight."
"P-pilfering?!"
While Dev needled me with envy, I approached them. The Archmage spotted me and mediated between the two.
"Now, now—the Demon Knight has arrived."
"B-but that scoundrel—!"
"Hmph."
…I'd noticed since Dev started looking after the Inquisitor back on the ship, but those two had gotten pretty close.
I watched them bicker as I climbed onto the last prepared horse.
"Let us depart."
Time to go.
The colosseum the Archmage had proposed as our next destination—and the city that housed it—lay in a region bordering the desert.
Setting out from the port city of Canaves meant weeks of riding—assuming we traveled by horse—before we arrived.
"Nothing particularly unusual has been observed around Far Enoch. If anything, even the demon worshippers who used to pull occasional stunts have completely vanished, so it's quieter than usual. Though that itself might be some kind of omen."
Along the way, every time we stopped in a village Dev gathered stories about Far Enoch and Ainoxar.
The city's level of public order, any unusual events nearby, and—most important—information on promising fighters.
"They say the average skill of the gladiators has been climbing steadily for the last ten or twenty years. That might be part of it."
"Average skill rising. Talented individuals must have gathered in numbers."
"Most likely. And right now the one making the biggest name at Ainoxar is a warrior known as the Martial King."
Hmm. A name that sounded strong and somehow weak at the same time. Usually nicknames like that belonged to the protagonist, the protagonist's party, or a rival—people who could live up to them.
I chewed steadily through my salad while Dev reported. Maybe because we were drawing closer to the desert, it had dates in it and was extremely sweet.
"He's held the colosseum's 'Champion' seat for five straight years… The news is three weeks old, but after five years I doubt anyone has taken the title from him since."
"I see."
"What's a Champion? Is that a nickname?"
"…It's more like an honorary title given to the number one of the colosseum. Separate from any nickname."
When a meal was too sweet it never quite felt like I'd eaten… a little disappointing.
"Only participants with ten or more consecutive wins can challenge the Champion, and the Champion is absolutely forbidden from refusing… If he's held the seat for five years, he must be strong."
"Certainly… under conditions like those, lack of skill seems unlikely. Then shall we request the Martial King's cooperation?"
"If there is no particular reason to disqualify him, that would be best."
I speared the last scrap of vegetable, put it in my mouth, and set down my utensils. Sweet as it was, the meal had been reasonably satisfying.
"What is your opinion?"
And now he was asking me, too.
"No interest."
I recognized the need to recruit a companion, but I didn't desire it enough to argue passionately. My concept was a lone-wolf type; the presence or absence of party members didn't affect me much.
Besides, the person we would recruit this time… if they really were the official character of the class I was thinking of, I would refuse if at all possible.
In the original Legend of Heroes it had been a popular class, sure—but having to face the character in person made me go, Yeah, that's a bit…
So even if they asked…
Flap.
"Welcome!"
Just then someone entered the inn where we were staying. Being near the desert, thick cloth hung in place of a wooden door, producing a distinctive dull sound.
"I smell a strong one!"
What followed was a hearty voice. It might not have been sweet, but it was packed tight with the word strength and brimming with vitality.
"Pardon? We don't have any dish like that…"
"…Whoa."
Well, the voice itself wasn't what mattered. While the innkeeper floundered at the incomprehensible customer's words, Dev let out a murmur of admiration. His ears were quietly flattening.
"I'm not talking about food! Though I will eat too!"
"…That's the first Slend that huge I've ever seen."
While the proprietor and the new visitor conversed, Dev lowered his voice to a whisper. The Inquisitor, curiosity piqued, turned to look as well.
Unlike Dev she had been sitting with her back to the entrance, so she had to turn her head to see the guest. Same for me.
"An extremely well-trained warrior, by the look of her."
"Dark skin—desert-born, I would guess. The weapon is a halberd, is it not?"
The Inquisitor's and Archmage's successive comments added details about someone I still hadn't seen.
A large Slend warrior. Abrupt talk of "strong ones." Dark skin. A halberd.
Suddenly a certain impression flashed through my mind.
"Ah, then how about cheese made from sheep's milk and date-palm bread? We also have smoked mutton!"
"Excellent! But first there's something I must find!"
…Please tell me the person who just came in doesn't have platinum-blond hair. And even if it is platinum, please don't let it be a bowl cut. Right?
"I came to fight a strong one. Yes, you! You with your back turned!"
Please say it isn't so.
"Young master, she's calling for you, y'know?"
I wanted to scrub my face dry at the identity I already knew without hearing any nickname. I was trying to ignore it even while knowing, and then Dev went and delivered the confirmation kill.
"Can you not hear me?"
No matter how you looked at it, that was the official character of the exact class that had popped into my head the moment the colosseum was mentioned. I didn't even need to see the face. Damn it.
"…Are you perhaps addressing our table?"
Thankfully the Archmage answered in my place.
"Yes! I was speaking toward you!"
Apparently failing to catch the reluctance in the Archmage's tone, the other party affirmed with gusto. My headache was steadily tightening its grip.
"What business do you have with us?"
"Did Berserk not just say? I wish to fight the warrior sitting with their back turned!"
If only the speech and features merely overlapped a little and it was a completely different person… as if.
I turned over the visitor's words, then finally smashed the hope circuits I had been barely holding together with "surely," "maybe," and "come on, no way."
Right. She had just confessed it herself. She was Berserk.
And Berserker was the third-tier advancement name of the class I had thought of—the Fighter. In other words, official character confirmed.
"…That would be rather difficult."
"What is difficult? Nothing is more enjoyable than a fight with a strong opponent!"
The talk of picking up our next companion at the colosseum had already felt ominous, and sure enough Berserk was going to join.
I could only hope the Archmage or the Inquisitor would oppose and the recruitment would fall through. That wasn't going to happen, was it?
Yeah. Of course not. So far there hadn't been a single case where an official character showed their face and then failed to join.
"He does not fight ordinary people."
"Berserk is no ordinary person!"
"…That is not the meaning. He does not fight humans unconnected to demons."
"A demon hunter, then? Even better! No one is stronger than those who know how to kill demons! Fight me!"
"……"
"Wow, she communicates even worse than you, young master."
"…Than me?"
Faced with a reality I wanted to look away from, I simply picked up my water cup. Lately there seemed to be far too many things that made life hard.
"Fight me, warrior!"
"…Begone."
…If the three calamities had all arrived like this, things would go smoothly from here on, right?
Please.