Still, There Is Hope (5)
Red Mane Kankan muttered a sigh as he stood before the door in front of him.
He simply could not decide whether he ought to go beyond it or turn away.
In his heart he wanted to give up. Why bother meeting a personality wreck who had already slaughtered several innocent employees and even turned on a friend of thirty years? The bastard’s temper had always been foul; Kankan had often wondered how he had ever called the man a friend in the first place.
Yet for the sake of that damned friendship—for the oath he had sworn as a Norda warrior—he found himself standing once more on the very spot where he had spat a week earlier.
No one had forced him. No one had pressured him. He stood there by his own will alone.
“Ha, for fuck’s sake.”
He felt no pity for the man who had begun killing civilians. A Norda warrior never touched civilians except in the heat of plunder; anyone who broke that rule had already forfeited the right to call himself a warrior.
Even so, Kankan was here because—yes—he could not simply watch a friend of thirty years sink any deeper into ruin.
“…That bastard had better thank me someday.”
Reports blocked. Threats made to keep him silent. He had even been attacked in earnest.
After all that hardship, how many friends in the world would still try to stop the final fall by urging a confession instead of cutting ties?
He had even offered to stand beside the man and share the punishment if only Muwang would pay for his crimes.
At the very least, Kankan told himself, he was too good a friend for a piece of shit like the Martial King. With that thought he gilded his own name in gold.
“Hey. Hey. You in there?”
In the end, thirty years of affection won out and he knocked on the gate.
He knew it would not work, but it was the right thing to do—the path that served his friend—so he did it.
“Yauw, you bastard! Bastard, hey!”
Yet some sons of bitches choose never to repent, no matter how steadfast the friend.
“Fuck this……!”
Kankan finally slammed his boot into the gate. Had he put his full heart into the kick the door would have shattered, but that much he restrained himself from doing.
The last time he had done so he had been forced to listen to demands for door money—plus a smug lecture on just how precious wooden doors were.
“I’m never coming back, got it?! You goddamn bastard! Today’s the end. Today’s the fucking end!”
Instead he poured out his rage without restraint. Tomorrow he would no doubt be prowling the same streets again, but right now he could not hold it in.
His friend of thirty years was no longer a friend; he was pure enmity.
Bang!
Kankan gave the gate one final kick and left. Perhaps because the street was mostly home to fighters, no one paid the racket any mind.
“Got rejected again today?”
A few who knew a little of the situation poked their heads out, snickering. Those bastards were just as rotten.
Kankan’s face twisted.
“Shut it.”
If they had been close he might have let it slide, but these nobodies he barely knew had no business jabbing at him.
When he had first arrived here there had not been so many of their kind. Lately the place was crawling with idiots who acted more like busybodies than fighters.
“Look at that pride.”
Kankan flipped them the middle finger and strode out of the street. The stench only grew worse the longer he stayed; he had no desire to linger.
“…What a smell, honestly.”
Did these bastards never clean up their own shit?
A few of them still reeked of nothing, but every newcomer who had suddenly climbed the ranks carried the same foul odor. His damned friend included.
Not a single one of them pleased him.
He grumbled and wrinkled his nose as he walked.
Then, unbidden, the face of the rookie fighter he had seen that afternoon rose in his mind. The half-and-half hair was something he had never seen before, so it stuck with him; at the same time the kid had carried a subtle scent uncomfortably close to the stink of this street, which left a bad taste.
Still, the boy had looked fairly strong. Would they meet in the arena soon?
Hoping they would not, Kankan left the place behind. It had been a truly rotten day.
“Oh, you’re the one I saw this afternoon……?”
“What.”
Truly, a rotten day.
He had prayed not to meet the kid in the arena, only to run into him at the temple.
I sat in the temple’s prayer hall, feeling every joint in my body ache.
Spending the whole afternoon like this was a waste of time, but given the circumstances I had no choice.
After all, I had been the one to insist we avoid acting alone “just in case.” That automatically barred me from stepping into the demon-infested desert beyond the walls.
Raiding the adventurers’ guild only ever produced demon-hunting quests, and after the earlier incident it had become difficult to scout for strong fighters while watching the arena matches either.
I had not started the trouble, so they had not charged me for repairs, but they had slapped a ban on me as a spectator.
If I absolutely had to enter I could always slip in as a fighter—they had even said they would welcome me as one—but there was no need to go that far. I would just stay cooped up in the temple.
It was not entirely a bad thing. Perhaps because the temple itself suppressed Demon Energy, they did not even mind me wandering around alone while I was here.
Archmage still looked like he would prefer at least one person remain behind, yet with so few of us it was hard to insist. Being short-handed had its perks.
Anyway, limited freedom was still freedom. I planned to spend the entire day stuck here meditating. I had plenty I wanted to confess to any god who would listen—this world’s or my own.
“Grant us Your mercy. Hear our prayers…….”
Above all, there was one thing I desperately wanted to beg of this world’s god.
“O God, bestow Your compassion, Your mercy, and Your love upon Your servants.”
I slipped into the evening mass and prayed with all my heart.
Please, by Your compassion, mercy, and love, keep Berserk from joining our party……. Anything else is fine, but spare me that person……. Protect my body and Archmage’s Disguise…….
If the god had any conscience at all, He ought to grant that wish.
“More than anything we seek Your wisdom; help us overcome the trials and hardships that await us.”
Of course, if someone said I sounded like a Berserk anti I would have no defense. Still, I honestly believe even a non-anti would offer a prayer like this.
Yeah—one dealer who refuses to communicate is already enough for our party concept! Charging straight in without coordinating is my job!
Daily life would be a problem too.
If we had finished our last fight properly it might have been different, but it had been interrupted, so she would be seething. The moment we met again she would demand a rematch, and if she joined the party there would be no way to avoid it.
I don’t want to fight her again……. At least against an enemy I don’t have to hold back; with Berserk I wouldn’t even be able to do that. I just don’t want to fight.
“That concludes today’s prayer.”
But of course she would join……. Judging by the party’s current mood they wouldn’t accept her easily, yet it had been the same with the thief. Sob.
I swallowed my tears and rose from my seat. I had intended to stay in the prayer hall, but someone sitting farther in seemed about to leave.
“Oh, you’re the one I saw this afternoon……?”
Why are you here.
I looked at the reddish-brown hair and fished for a name. Kankan, was it?
I had been so focused on praying that I had never noticed who sat next to me. The consecrated cloth the bishop had handed out before mass—draped over my head—hadn’t helped either.
“What.”
Whether Kankan sat beside me, in front, or behind made no real difference. I wasn’t the type to gather information and report it back, so this coincidence meant nothing.
I stared at him blankly.
“Huh? Ah, ah…….”
Kankan seemed to have greeted me without thinking. When I glared, he grew awkward and scratched his head. His somewhat aged face took on a complicated look.
“…Smelly…… first time coming to the temple…….”
He muttered something, and the content was rather unpleasant.
What did you just say. Smelly? Smellyyyy??
Do I stink?!!!
I was shocked—first by the sheer rudeness of a man who would bluntly tell someone they smelled, and second by the fact that I apparently did.
Ha. After how thoroughly I had washed. I had paid ten times the usual bath fee out in the desert, scrubbed myself clean. And that had been just earlier—literally just now!
I reeked of sweat and grime!!
I wanted to pass out on the spot…… but of course I could not, so I simply clenched my fists tight.
I’m going…… I’m going back to wash again, goddamn it. A civilized person who lived in the modern world cannot become a smelly human being.
“If you have no business, get lost.”
Besides, people around here barely washed at all. If even they called me foul, how bad must I smell?
Ha. Seriously. Haaaah. Is it the soap? Or did washing gently because of all the bruises leave something behind?
I’m going to lose my mind.
“Uh, uh, sorry.”
I pulled the consecrated cloth more tightly around myself, irritation thick in my voice.
The cloth was clean, so maybe it would help. I felt a little bad for whoever would have to wash it later, but after being told to my face that I stank I could not simply sit still. Concept meant I couldn’t even buy perfume.
I gritted my teeth as Kankan kept glancing at me while he left. I was grateful he had told me about the smell, but I still found him annoying.
“Ah, Red Mane-nim. Meeting you at the temple again.”
Ah, my cookie-crisp mental state…… my pride as a civilized man…….
“You……! Did you follow me here too?!”
“Come now, following? Such a loaded word. Pure coincidence, I assure you.”
“Coincidence my ass……!”
And why was that guy suddenly tangled in some strange incident on his way out.
“You came to keep tabs on me……!”
“What a dreadful thing to say! How could I possibly keep watch over Red Mane-nim? I have no reason to.”
I know eavesdropping is rude. But in this situation, aren’t the people who raise their voices loud enough to be heard in a public place the bigger problem?
Of course they were whispering close together because they didn’t want the temple folk to hear…… but had they never considered that someone with good ears might be nearby? Is your secret conversation a joke?!
Do that somewhere without people! Not in the prayer hall!
“Even if you don’t follow me I won’t talk.”
“Whatever do you mean…….”
“I won’t drag anyone else in, so never show your face in front of me again!”
Uwaaaaah. Why did I have to read so many novels that I know every cliché by heart.
I have no intention of butting in, but I can already guess the whole story, you two! Or is this a side quest?! Is that it?!
“Haha, I’m not sure what you mean, but you truly live up to being the champion’s friend. Disliking the idea of involving others.”
They even mentioned the champion.
I kept the cloth over my face, sat back down, and bowed my head. My expression had gone quite cold as my mind raced.
Rumor said the champion was gripped by madness.
Rumor said that madness had already produced dead and wounded.
And Kankan was the champion’s friend, currently under some form of surveillance and threat…….
Well, well, well.
Looks like Muwang is destined never to join our party. The real stench isn’t coming from me—it’s pouring off that side.
“That goddamn bastard!”
After the nameless threatener left, Kankan slammed the cathedral door in frustration. The fact that it neither broke nor cracked suggested he still had the presence of mind to control his strength.
“Brother, is something the matter?”
“……! Ah, nothing, Father.”
“I do not know what has angered you so…… but perhaps you have had some disagreement with Merchant Gridana?”
“Of course not! What trouble could a fighter like me have with a merchant?”
No, after the scene just now anyone would assume there was a quarrel. Maybe brawlers simply weren’t used to lying.
“…Then I am glad.”
The priest seemed to feel much as I did, yet he did not press. He merely left the door open for counsel whenever needed.
“Um, Father.”
And he was going to walk straight through that door?
“Could you…… grant me just one blessing?”
Ah, never mind.
“What blessing do you seek?”
“That I may win…… no, you said fairness forbids that sort of thing. Then…….”
I quietly watched Kankan—Red Mane—pray to a priest smaller than himself.
“Bless me so that I can still help someone precious to me. Bless me that there is still hope.”
His red eyes shone with the light of someone who had steeled himself for something.
I still could not be certain what was wrong with the champion Muwang, but in that moment I knew the man had at least one friend of enviable quality.
The next day, a match was arranged between Red Mane Kankan and the champion Martial King Muwang.