Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: City of Elves
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-The black sorcerer killed the Outer Sword and wore its skin inside out!
This rumor began circulating among the people from a certain day onward.
It stemmed from the drastic change that occurred in a certain Swordmaster.
-A black sorcerer killed the Outer Sword and wore its skin flipped inside out? What the hell does that mean?
-The guy's suddenly changed! I'm telling you, something happened to the Outer Sword!
-What, just because someone's a bit different, you treat 'em like they've been skinned? What the heck happened? Probably just hype, anyway.
-That Outer Sword guy just let some street thugs who didn't recognize him and started mouthing off walk away scot-free!
-Let them walk away? You mean he only broke an arm or a leg? That's surprising.
-No, man! He literally let them go! Laughed it off and sent them on their way!!! And he just waited there until those punks found out who he was and came back apologizing!!! Hell, he's even helping people in the city who need aid!!!
-Hah, the black sorcerer killed the Outer Sword and wore its skin inside out!!!
Outer Sword.
That swordmaster's prickly temperament was as infamous as the superhuman feats that earned him his title.
People even joked that you could follow in a typhoon's wake, but never the Outer Sword's path.
For such an Outer Sword to shed his asshole personality?
To even pursue good deeds?
It was more than enough to spawn wild rumors about his personal affairs.
Between that wastrel becoming a new man or his skin being stolen outright, the latter actually sounded more believable.
Suddenly.
The wastrel Swordmaster's transformation became the talk of every place he went.
Sordan, descendants of the hero Brof, were no exception.
The city they ruled was abuzz as well.
-Lord Rodan! I formally request your aid! Please stop the wicked witch targeting the legacy of the great hero Brof!
This was how the hero's descendants came to seek out Rodan.
-A witch?
-Yes! In this Age of Chaos, a witch who preys solely on the legacies of heroes who rose to found great houses is running rampant! Given her patterns, we're the most likely next target!
In truth, when Sordan directly approached the Outer Sword to plead his case, he hadn't held high hopes.
The wastrel Swordmaster who'd even severed his own mother's arm and reforged himself with a prosthetic helping those in need? A new man?
No one dumb enough to buy such rumors wholesale could survive this brutal world.
But then.
-What would that guy do in a situation like this...
-Pardon? That guy, you mean—
-Never mind. Don't worry about it. Fine. I'll help.
Rodan readily agreed to Sordan's request.
He even refused the bribes they'd prepared just in case—
And brushed off with a light laugh the hidden forces Sordan had stashed away to deal with any wastrel antics.
Sordan was convinced.
The rumors were true.
That wastrel had truly been reborn.
"Rodan...!!!"
Sordan, descendant of the hero Brof, cried out in fury.
"I trusted you...!!! Didn't you say the same?! That you'd pursue what's right and true!!!"
If he stared at a house struck by lightning and burned to ash, he'd probably make that face.
The tide had turned due to Rodan's betrayal.
Sordan wore an expression like he might just drop dead from sheer injustice.
Even for that wastrel—
He never imagined he'd so casually break his own word.
For a Swordmaster of all people to flip-flop like the back of his hand?! Unthinkable!
Even wastrels had limits.
Sordan felt profound shock and disgust at this superhuman's lack of convictions or principles.
Of course.
The Swordmaster Outer Sword stood tall, unashamed.
"I am pursuing them. What's right and true."
"What...! Look around you!!!"
Sordan's knights and the mercenaries he'd hired.
Even the heroes who'd joined willingly upon hearing of Sordan's plight and the need to slay the vile witch—
All lay defeated, subdued by Outer Sword and the witch.
"Abandoning them—abandoning us to side with the witch—is truly right?!"
"Yeah."
"Pardon?"
His crisp reply, devoid of even a moment's hesitation, left Sordan and the subjugation force speechless, emotions flatlining.
"Y-You crazy bastard wastrel...!!! S-See?! People don't change after all!!!"
And with that, Sordan finally lost his reason and cursed at Outer Sword.
"Right! Now I get it!!! You bastard! You planned this from the start!!! In league with the witch to lure us into a trap—"
"Hey, calm down a bit."
Whoa~ whoa.
Rodan raised both hands like he was soothing a raging beast.
The moment Sordan's eyes nearly rolled back at the gesture.
"Before you start throwing punches, let's clear this up first. The root of this mess. Sordan. Were you really the victim here from the start? Is this lady truly the perpetrator?"
"What the—"
"This lady just came here to fulfill the contract between your ancestor and her master, right?"
"You believe that?! Seriously?!"
"What's the reason not to?"
"Th-That bitch is a Dark Elf!!! A cursed being! We're descendants of the great hero Brof!!! For the mighty Brof to owe a debt to some ugly witch!!! You're seriously buying that crap?!"
It was a crude, lowly plea.
Yet the subjugation force nodded along with Sordan.
Dark Elves.
They were undoubtedly loathsome creatures who spread curses wherever they went.
Whereas Brof was a great hero immortalized in history.
For such a hero to owe a massive debt to a cursed Dark Elf?
Hard to swallow.
Prejudices often outweigh reason.
Even Rodan's participation in the subjugation stemmed from the same bias.
Sordan glared at him, pointing out the obvious.
"Sure. Going just by your word, this lady could be a cursed witch after a hero's legacy."
"Then—"
"But we should hear her side too."
"What the hell did she even say to make you!!!"
Sordan's eyes gleamed, convinced he'd caught him.
Until moments ago, Outer Sword had been a dutiful member of the subjugation force, pursuing justice.
Then, after some chat with the Dark Elf—she'd bewitched him back into his old wastrel self.
Sordan even suspected sorcery.
"I just said it. This lady's only here to honor the contract between your ancestor and her master."
"That's not the point!!! I'm asking why you're suddenly taking the Dark Elf's side!"
"Oh, that."
Rodan burst into cheerful laughter.
"This lady's an acquaintance of Rishir's."
"...?"
Sordan's face went utterly blank.
Who the hell was Rishir?
He snapped out of it and pressed on.
"So that's it? Because that witch's buddies with your pal—you'll side with the witch?"
Siding with villains over heroes just because you know someone.
Utterly wastrel logic. Sordan trembled with rage.
"Nah, that's not it."
But Outer Sword clicked his tongue, denying it.
"What do you mean not it?! At least you're aware you're doing something shameful!"
Despite the hopeless situation, a triumphant smirk crossed Sordan's face.
Siding with a witch to oppress a high house.
Even for Outer Sword, this crossed a clear line.
Sordan was certain.
Once word of Outer Sword's injustice here spread, it'd drag him down—and ultimately to ruin.
His last shred of hope.
"Outer Sword. Don't forget—this is Sordan territory. Even you can't bury your misdeeds here completely. Unless you slaughter the whole city."
"..."
"Last chance. Outer Sword. Will you really bear all this—for one Dark Elf? For your petty personal ties?"
Thus cornered with momentum, Sordan's face suddenly twisted.
Outer Sword wore a profoundly meaningful smile.
"Let me be clear. I'm not taking her side because we're friends."
Precisely—
Outer Sword raised a finger for emphasis.
"Because she's the master of a guy named Rishir."
"What the—"
"If she's Rishir's master, of course she's an outstanding person."
Outer Sword stated it like self-evident truth.
"You lunatic, what the—"
"So, Sordan. None of what you said will happen. She's just exercising her rightful claim."
Watching from the sidelines, the Dark Elf Pamon.
She beamed with worldly delight.
Not mere relief at escaping crisis.
The master had encountered her disciple's traces in an unexpected place.
They forgot their weariness from humanity's indiscriminate discrimination and malice, purely joyful.
"Right~? Our disciple's probably a respected master at the Gray Tower by now~?"
"I'm getting worried~ What if our disciple ends up more outstanding than me~?"
"What to do~"
The Dark Elf gazed into the distance with her signature vibrant smile.
"Looks like from here on, I'll have to diligently train—even with magic—to keep playing master."
The master recalled her disciple reaching the 6th circle just recently, feeling tension and relief in equal measure.
It was an immense momentum, but the vast wall between 6th and 7th circles was more than enough to slow it.
"At this rate, he might hit 7th by our next reunion."
The grimoire shook its head at its master, who placed excessive faith in her disciple.
A book, but still.
"Oh, Lord Rodan?"
Then, the Dark Elf turned to Outer Sword, who was calling her.
The situation had resolved while the master reminisced about her disciple.
The subjugation force, excluding Sordan retainers, had been physically persuaded by Outer Sword's persistence to hear out the Dark Elf.
Afterward.
When Pamon produced the contract signed by Sordan's heroic ancestor and her own master, sentiment tilted even further her way.
She whispered privately to Sordan.
"I'd recommend settling this quietly and amicably if possible. If it blows up, I'll have no choice but to reveal the contract's details to everyone."
"..."
As Pamon hinted at the contract's shocking truth—the hero's hidden reality—Sordan reacted with disbelief.
And grew even more anxious imagining the fallout.
"F-Fine, name your price—witch... no, Pamon."
Pamon.
This was the first time she fulfilled the contract not as a 'Dark Elf witch,' but as a rightful claimant.
The incident resolved soon after.
Pamon and Outer Sword, sharing common interests, shared a chat.
The topic was, predictably, a certain man.
"Still, I was shocked. To meet Rishir's master here of all places."
"I was shocked too. That our Rishir is sworn brothers with the Outer Sword—"
Outer Sword.
Forest Witch.
Anyone who knew them would gape at the sight.
They conversed in mutual respect.
No easy feat.
'Rishir's sworn brother...?'
'Rishir's master...?'
Their ordinary mentor-disciple bonds had tangled massively due to the other.
Even so.
They ultimately chose to respect each other.
'Doesn't look like a swordsmanship teacher at first glance...'
'Doesn't look like a magic teacher either...'
At least the mentor-disciple ties they referenced didn't seem tied to swordsmanship (magic).
The world held knowledge and skills beyond swordsmanship (magic).
'What the heck did he learn from Outer Sword's master...? Knightly etiquette?'
'What did she teach Rishir? Landscape gardening...?'
If their one true swordsmanship (magic) master remained unchanged, that was enough, right?
They silently reminded themselves of this and continued talking.
"Come to think of it, I haven't asked yet. What 'kind' of master to Rishir are you, Lady Pamon?"
Pamon smiled gracefully and answered proudly.
"I helped guide that child onto the path of magic."
"?"
Outer Sword tilted his head.
"Magic—you mean, like mage etiquette?"
"No? I mean literal magic—knowledge and techniques across the board."
"...Isn't Rishir a swordsman?"
"Pardon? What— Didn't you just say so yourself, Lord Rodan? Rishir of the Gray Tower—"
"Strictly speaking, he was an 'honorary' mage of the Gray Tower. You know honorary mages don't even have to be mages."
Outer Sword recalled the Rishir he'd met.
Sword at his hip, body honed with training marks, regulating body and mind via blue breathing—
Above all, the man acknowledged by his own master.
Yes.
Outer Sword saw Rishir as a swordsman.
"...By the way, Rishir being a swordsman—what's that about?"
As Rodan puzzled it out, Pamon spoke.
"Rishir was recognized as a disciple by my master, who saw his talent as a swordsman."
"...Rishir wasn't born with swordsmanship talent, though?"
Pamon recalled Rishir's persecution in his sword house.
"...How else does he handle blue breathing perfectly?"
"...He handled blue breathing? Not resonance?"
"...He handled resonance?"
Pardon?
Pardon?
Pardon?
Their confusion deepened endlessly.
"Child, are you worrying about that?"
Before Rishir followed Caroer through the rift.
Lavella read the doubt on his face and inquired about his concerns.
His response drew a wry smile from Grand Master Lavella.
So little taught by his master that—
Grand Master's teachings outstripped it, potentially twisting their mentor-disciple bond?
"You have your quirky side like that child. First time seeing someone fret like you."
"R-Right? Just overthinking, huh?"
Rishir let out a playful sigh of relief.
"Still, since it came up—Lady Vella. What usually happens in cases like this? When time under Grand Master exceeds that under one's master."
"No idea."
"Pardon?"
"First time seeing someone worry like you—or in your situation."
"..."
Grand master and great-grand disciple eyed each other awkwardly.
-My disciple~
They fancied hearing that signature bubbly laugh from somewhere.
"Done talking?"
Then.
The High Elf prodded them.
"I'm a busy woman. Circumstances forced me to aid you, but dawdle pointlessly and things could go awry. Bear that in mind."
Lavella couldn't chide her prickliness.
As elder of the elves and guardian of the World Tree, her busyness was obvious.
"Go on. Claim what you seek."
"Pardon? You're not coming, Lady Vella?"
Lavella stroked Rishir's head.
"I'd love to. But—"
The Dark Elf eyed the High Elf cautiously.
The High Elf recoiled in horror.
The Dark Elf smiled wryly.
"Leaving this place requires tedious preparations for me. Plus, as Caroer's reaction shows, my presence would stir needless chaos."
"What kind of place is it..."
Ilratten.
The High Elf answered Rishir's question.
"Ilratten..."
Rishir's eyes widened.
"The sacred city of the elves awaits. Mind your words and deeds."
-Intruder!
Not long after Rishir entered the rift following Caroer.
In Lavella's lush forest—
At the heart of an even vaster woodland, Rishir sensed presences encircling him.
Along with their sharp hostility.
-How is a human here!
-Explain how you infiltrated and your purpose! Refuse, and we'll slay you on the spot!
Twang—
Rishir's heightened senses caught the taut stringing of bows.
They hid behind brush and trees, arrows nocked.
Dozens of them.
"This is a new kind of welcome..."
No sign of Caroer despite scanning around, Rishir's head throbbed.
Then—
"Everyone, stand down!"
A voice from the sky.
A woman astride a massive eagle descended before them.
Rishir first noted her ears.
Long, as expected.
She was an elf too.
"By Caroer-sama's command! Escort this one to Ilratten!"
-Caroer-sama!?
The encircling elves—forest watchers—halted immediate threats but ramped up their wariness and enmity.
As Rishir debated relief, a strong gust hit.
The giant eagle landed with a flap.
The elf atop dismounted and stood before Rishir.
"You're the human Caroer-sama mentioned?"
Rishir got a strange impression from her.
Her gentle, youthful face clashed with the primal contempt for humans etched on it.
Like an aggressive expression ill-suited to her features?
"If you mean the human following Caroer-sama, that's me."
"..."
The elf winced as the sacred name left human lips.
Hoo.
She steadied with deep breaths before continuing.
"Follow me. Caroer-sama ordered me to guide you."
She turned and strode ahead.
Rishir unwittingly glanced at the eagle she'd ridden.
The elf spoke.
"Don't tell me you're expecting a ride on its back?"
A sneer curled her lips.
"Too bad. To you humans, it might look a mere beast, but it's a divine guardian beast. Don't even think of approaching. Humans get their eyes pecked out the instant they get close."
Her expression held genuine concern, not just mockery.
Yet her warning fell on deaf ears.
The divine beast waddled over to the human.
Lowering its body toward him.
As if offering its back.
Or perhaps begging for head pats.
"..."
Murmur murmur.
The forest stirred.