Chapter 280
Chapter 280
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Hero Rishir
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"No matter how much I think about it, something just doesn't sit right!"
The first words out of Latsil's mouth the moment she returned to the expedition from scouting with the watchers.
"Latsil? Did you see something?"
The low-ranking watchers who'd gone scouting with her lit up with interest.
They clearly remembered no notable anomalies during the recon.
But did Latsil spot something different?
Did her sharp eyes catch some discrepancy they missed!?
"I should've gone with Allen instead of Elenza!"
"Ah."
That was it.
Again with that.
"Good work out there."
"You too."
The scouting party exchanged familiar greetings and dispersed, leaving Latsil behind.
Only Latsil, the scouting leader, remained, staring at Caroer.
Caroer envied them. She sighed and closed her book.
"The point of this detachment is to shorten the expedition's schedule. Keeping that in mind, do you think there's a better lineup than those two?"
"Allen's still just a kid!"
"But he's a dragon."
"What if something unexpected happens and he can't handle it!?"
"Rishir's with him."
Kyaa!
Latsil crumpled like she'd been clubbed.
She'd sharpened her arguments throughout the scout just for this moment, but two short phrases—"But he's a dragon," "Rishir's with him"—crushed her under the weight of harsh reality.
"More than that, Latsil. You just want to sightsee the city, don't you?"
"...We've arrived, but if Rishir's already solved almost everything and we have to leave right away, what then!?"
"That's a good thing."
"Ah! You're right! It is a good thing! But what I mean is—...Waaah! I wanted to tour a human city with Rishir!!!"
Latsil flopped to the ground like a tragic heroine.
The expedition marched on, ignoring her.
A moment later.
Latsil, quick on her feet despite the theatrics, caught up pouting, and Lunadien, sitting beside Caroer, smiled as she spoke.
"No need to worry too much. Latsil. Since it's about the demonic sword, at least the scenario you mentioned won't happen."
"...Yeah, probably not."
Latsil, who'd blurted it out without much thought, nodded in agreement with Lunadien.
Including the new dragon followers who'd joined the main expedition.
The Ilatdein expedition was drawing all the attention from the surrounding region.
Not because of reactions like "Whoa, elves," obviously—
But because of their forces.
Forces that could casually overrun a small city just passing by.
No phrase fit the "sense of unease" better.
And this expedition was entering the city through the main gate and exiting the rear—for preparatory work.
"It's quite the political matter, so even that man won't wrap it up like mere busywork."
Lunadien closed her book and fully joined Caroer and Latsil's conversation.
"Once the expedition reaches the city, the procession will inevitably have to wait outside. Until the additional personnel we've dispatched help Rishir fully resolve the issue. Probably at least a week, at the shortest."
"A, a week!?"
"Human cities rarely band together as one. They're always itching to devour each other. Convincing them all and aligning opinions takes considerable time. And that's assuming we succeed in tracking the demonic sword and win over the city lord's favor."
"Bypassing the city takes two days... passing through takes a week... Are we setting a precedent to broaden the expedition's path?"
"Exactly. If word spreads that the suspicious elf expedition turned out to be friendly guests in a human city~, it'll drastically reduce situations like this where we endure every inconvenience just to prove our innocence."
For example.
Better to front-load all the discomfort now than suffer it throughout the journey.
It was the afternoon of the second day since Rishir had headed to Thormun.
The Ilatdein expedition finally arrived at Thormun.
To avoid causing a stir among travelers at the main gate, they tried setting camp in a field far from the city.
They were selecting personnel to join Rishir and shorten the expedition's encampment when—
"Lady Caroer! A group bearing Thormun's banners is approaching! Likely the guard!"
"Oh. Humans. Quite proactive, aren't they?"
Lunadien laced her quip with self-deprecation.
Even camping this far out, they come immediately—must be to voice complaints, she thought.
"To think I'd have to mind humans."
The dragon followers watching nearby glanced awkwardly.
Elves lowering themselves to accommodate humans.
Even to them, humans, it felt utterly unfamiliar.
Weren't elves supposed to despise humans?
"...Heh."
At that moment.
Lunadien recalled something and wore a pleasant smile.
The smile spread quickly among the elves.
They exchanged looks, feeling a strange thrill.
Some say elves love nature because of the world tree, their parent.
Was that why?
Rishir.
Thinking of that human made even this situation feel amusing.
"Greet them courteously."
As Caroer instructed, they politely welcomed the guards—who obviously saw the elves as unwelcome intruders.
"Th-thank you for the warm welcome—"
A strange tension hung in the air.
The elves are sure to despise us.
That's what the guards thought too.
Someone even thought.
This is historic.
Humans and elves.
Keeping their distance for their own reasons, now meeting on mutual respect.
"First, allow me to explain why the Ilatdein expedition has set camp here."
"No need. We already know that part."
"Hm?"
The elves' first step through human lands.
Caroer, who'd braced for trouble, sensed something off in the guards' response.
"We already know about you all—from the hero."
"...The hero?"
The elves paused in thought.
Had the hero stopped by in the interim to mediate?
"Yes. The Hero of the Advance, Rishir."
"Ah."
The elves nodded, finally getting it.
Right.
He had that title too.
Mother of the world tree, guardian saint—
They'd briefly forgotten amid stronger recent stimuli.
What weight the hero title carried among humans.
Of course, questions remained.
'I'm the hero~' doesn't solve everything.
No human would fling open the gates to this many elves, even with the hero's guarantee.
Then.
The elves recalled the sword sheath Rishir had followed: Popandal.
Thormun's ruling power.
Their request for demonic sword tracking aid.
'Ah. I see.'
The elves nodded in understanding.
They'd hinted that main force cooperation would smooth the demonic sword hunt.
Elves already familiar with him, yet surprised once more.
He'd exceeded expectations with seasoned skill.
They thought.
Perhaps.
Rishir's true power lay not in his inscrutable abilities, but his wondrous affinity.
"As such, Thormun welcomes Hero Rishir and the Ilatdein expedition he belongs to with open arms."
The elves thought.
What affinity? It's the power.
Me.
Too much has happened.
I'm exhausted, seriously.
Rishir's answer to the elves' doubts.
Receiving the guards' escort to the mansion, they found Rishir resting in bed.
Paying the price for his rampage.
"...So, the demonic sword was infiltrating the city's underworld alongside corrupt powers, plotting rebellion—"
"And in your rampage, that force got wiped out?"
"Tch, pretty much."
"Whoa... Rishir. This story you're telling—it's like... what? Like a bard's tale?"
A poetic euphemism for 'total bullshit.'
'I happened to catch the demonic sword, and happened to wipe out the city's tumors too'—what kind of nonsense is that?
Even tale-spinners starting with exaggeration would nitpick plausibility and vein-pop in outrage.
Yet reality's author occasionally outdoes the hack writers.
"Truth be told, I did nothing. It was all possible because the demonic sword cooperated."
"..."
Making one demonic sword hunt another—doesn't that count as doing it all?
Her mouth itched.
How long had it been? Rishir's threshold felt lowered already.
"Actually. There's a separate reason Rishir was hailed as a hero and gained the city powers' full support."
Then.
Bolton stepped forward.
They explained the true story of how the city council united to welcome the elf expedition.
"They witnessed it."
"Witnessed what?"
"The demonic swordsman wielding the holy sword—his domineering aura—"
"...Ah."
Thank goodness he held the holy sword.
Those involved later reminisced about Rishir's figure that way.
Clad in ominous black armor, swinging eerie black flames.
A lone demonic swordsman storming the back alleys and overturning them—nightmarish was an understatement.
Had the sword in his hand not been the holy sword, radiating sanctity even from afar—
Thormun would be trembling in the demonic swordsman's terror by now.
And Rishir, the city-saver, would be its source.
"Once reports of Kort's death and sightings of the demonic swordsman spread, they had no choice."
Those plotting unrest inside the city, following Kort, pledged loyalty to Bolton in an instant.
Terrified the demonic swordsman might come for them!
"Hero to the good, terror to the wicked. Uhahaha."
Rishir laughed, summing it up.
Bolton and the Popandal sword sheath crew averted their eyes cautiously.
Even the good ones were afraid?
No need to rain on the hero's parade with bloody truth.
"On this occasion, once more: The Gainan family, representing Thormun, expresses gratitude to the hero and his comrades. We promise full support for every convenience and aid the expedition needs."
Bolton vowed not just to assist the expedition's maintenance, but to guarantee their credit across nearby cities in Thormun's name.
Saying.
His sword sheath members abroad were already spreading tales of the hero's exploits.
"Impressive."
Caroer and the elves, forgetting Bolton was human, sincerely admired his adept handling.
Thormun, excessively praising Rishir's heroic side.
The elves had thought they'd been drawn by the hero title at first, but no.
Bolton knew the weight of that title well.
Borrowing that hero's fame could reduce public backlash against the expedition—
"Thus, people will learn the Ilatdein expedition includes the city-saving hero. They still won't fully trust us, but at least not outright distrust like before."
Bolton spoke while carefully gauging the elves' reactions.
Otherwise, one hero—
One mere human—would represent the elf expedition, potentially offending their pride.
"Our thanks for your courteous consideration."
Unnecessary worry.
Caroer and the elves didn't mind a bit.
No.
Beyond not minding, they were pleased.
Rishir.
That human representing their expedition.
"..."
Bolton and Delron stared at Rishir on the bed.
Could it be.
Besides holy sword and demonic sword master, something else?
That alone didn't explain the elves' attitude?
Their mouths itched, but they shelved the question.
Asking might bring an unbearable answer.
Afterward.
The expedition agreed to rest in the city today, maintain, and depart tomorrow.
Caroer was very satisfied.
"Then, we'll conclude this topic here—"
Bolton eyed Rishir.
"Rishir. Regarding the demonic sword."
Rishir drew Curse and showed it to them.
"What state is the demonic sword in now...?"
Bolton asked cautiously.
Not as Thormun's ruler, but the sword sheath's head.
By sword sheath code, demonic swords required multilayer security and barriers for isolation and surveillance.
Handing it to an individual?
Unthinkable under normal circumstances.
"The demonic sword right now—"
Rishir glanced at it before speaking.
"Is unconscious from exhaustion."
"..."
Stable condition.
No issues.
Bolton, expecting such, felt faint dizziness and closed his eyes tightly.
Soon.
A smile formed on his lips.
Popandal sword sheath.
They'd finally devised a way to perfectly, completely seal the demonic sword.
"Rishir. Would you please take custody of the demonic sword?"
"Gladly."
Clink.
The purple sword trembled faintly.
"Oh, right— what about this?"
"Hiiiik...!!!"
Bolton and the sword sheath crew recoiled in horror.
Wondering what now, Rishir pulled out [Inheritance Tome: Beloved Confectionery] from his luggage.
"I kept the one we recovered back then."
"Hm? What's that book? Feels oddly potent—"
Book, indeed.
Lunadien, reading in the corner, showed interest.
"Ah, it's an inheritance tome—"
"...!!!"
Inheritance tome, inheritance tome.
She raised both hands as if pleading ignorance and backed away slowly.
"Kort, you fool. Pulling items from the warehouse..."
Bolton sighed heavily.
He stared at the tome reluctantly before extending a hand.
"I'll dispose of it properly."
"...Seems like quite the hassle?"
"Yes. Well. An opened inheritance tome affects its surroundings— for someone like you, utterly unaffected, that's exceptionally rare."
"Huh. So if I return it, won't you be affected, Sir Bolton?"
"Probably..."
"...You're planning to return this inheritance tome to its original spot—that warehouse?"
"Rishir?"
Rishir tucked the tome under his arm.
"I'll go with you. I'll carry it."
"This is... the warehouse..."
The space isolating the 0th Abominations: the warehouse.
It encompassed an entire annex.
"Rishir. I must insist once more: inside, follow my instructions completely."
"Understood."
"And absolutely don't stray from me—"
Bolton stood before the warehouse door, producing a keyring.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, six, five, four—"
Eyes closed, he counted keys sequentially.
The fourth one he selected fit the door, revealing the pitch-black annex interior.
Just as Bolton moved to enter—
-You! Let's play riddles!
"...!"
Bolton's body jerked like electrocuted.
A shadow emerged from the dark.
A rag doll with a child's frame, its face all ears.
"Kort—"
Bolton growled the name.
Whatever Kort did fetching the tome, the 0th Abominations roamed free.
He forced calm to cope.
Riddle Doll.
It wouldn't back down until the riddle game ended.
"Fine. Pose your riddle."
Bolton drew the sword sheath manual for contingencies.
It held secrets to facing the Riddle Doll.
-Not you! You!
The Riddle Doll pointed a finger with a mouth at Rishir, to prepared Bolton.
"Wai—"
-Interrupt and it's penalty!
"...!"
Bolton's heart sank.
Once the doll selected a target, third parties couldn't interfere.
'How—'
Not direct aid, not even handing the manual to Rishir.
-You! First time at riddles!?
Riddle Doll.
Its ears tore into a grin.
After endless defeats since meeting Popandal sword sheath, it reached here.
It couldn't hide excitement at a 'fair' opponent after so long.
"Yes. First time."
-Great! Special favor: you pose first!
A horror dominating riddles by some force.
It always guessed right.
Victory meant not posing riddles—tricking it into self-contradiction via specific acts!
But Rishir innocently posed one.
"Um... Something that's the world tree's mother yet also human— ah, no. Let me try again."
-Warning: sloppy riddles are invalid!
"Something that's a wizard, a swordsman, a priest, and a black mage?"
-Too easy! Answer's a book!
As expected, instant solve.
-Books on mysticism mentor wizards, tomes on doctrine mentor priests! Books can be anything by content! So, book's the answer!
Bolton felt darkness close in—
"Wrong. The answer's me."
-...
Rishir won.