Chapter 314
Chapter 314
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Forgetfulness
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Oblivion
Schwick.
It was a bizarre sight.
A bloodstained blade suddenly pierced through empty air, slicing it apart and creating a rift of darkness.
Splash.
As he stepped out from the rift, the blood and debris clinging to his armor poured down like rain.
"H-Huh...! The Archdemon- Ah, it's Rishir."
The hero of discernment who had been waiting there nearly dropped his heart again before catching it.
Whoosh.
He let out a deep breath and continued.
"My god, Rishir. What the hell happened in there to leave you looking like that?"
"I subjugated all the demons inside."
"...Ah, yeah, that makes sense."
At that moment.
The grotesque blade, stained with blood and flesh, began to resonate.
Surprisingly, it was the holy sword of advancement, Zallak.
He spoke to the holy sword of discernment, Posena, held by Felix.
Posena was horrified.
To think she should have been in that rift together.
Was he trying to kill her master?
To begin with, even she, a holy sword, wasn't confident she could maintain herself inside that rift.
-By the way, Mr. Zallak. Are you okay in that state?
Posena voiced her concern.
After a fierce battle.
If one had to worry between a hero and a holy sword, it was obviously the hero with his fragile flesh following the sword.
But now, Posena was naturally worrying about Zallak's condition.
About the fragile sword(?) that had to follow that man.
-No need to worry about me now!!! I'm overflowing with advancement alongside Rishir!!!
Did the word "advancement" always carry such a dangerous connotation?
The holy sword of discernment and the hero felt doubts but dared not voice them.
What if he suggested they advance together?
They, mere ordinary hero and holy sword, had no confidence they could endure it.
And so, as the hero of discernment was lost in his rude yet reasonable thoughts.
"Mommy!"
The world tree spirit approached the magic swordsman's feet and looked up at his body.
Soon.
The lush greenery of the world tree filling the room carefully enveloped the holy magic swordsman.
As the greenery returned to its place, the traces of subjugation vanished, revealing the holy magic swordsman restored to his original state.
"Ah, Dingding! Thank you!"
Only then did Rishir discard his armor.
To stroke the turquoise girl's head.
"Mommy! Mommy!!!"
Leaving behind the excited turquoise girl bouncing around joyfully—
"Were you waiting for me, Felix?"
"Something like that."
Their proper conversation began.
"First, I'd love to hear about what you went through beyond that rift—but that'd take too long, so let's cut to the chase. Rishir. Quite a lot has happened in the two days you spent coming and going through that rift."
Two days already?
Rishir set aside the first question that came to mind.
"Is the situation serious?"
"Well. Serious if it's serious, not if it's not—"
Felix, organizing his thoughts, extended a hand to Rishir.
"For now. Let's move. Everyone should be gathered by now."
"You're all here? Duke Palrag! Master Meltas! Duke Lunadien! And even Fienne!?"
As Rishir arrived following Felix, familiar faces greeted him.
It was a conference room in another building of the Goose estate.
"Rishir, you're here."
"Ah, Master Meltas! I just returned! Sorry to worry you—must have been concerned, right?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Pardon?"
"There's someone else to worry about. Why would I worry about you?"
It seemed like a heartwarming reunion at a glance.
If only warm smiles graced their faces, there'd be no doubt.
However, Meltas and the others were dead serious.
Worry about you?
Why would we?
They looked genuinely puzzled.
They called it the return of the prodigal son.
Rishir reluctantly realized that once trust exceeded a certain level, it equated to indifference.
"...Ah! Worry about me a little!"
"Haha, what's gotten into you suddenly. Alright. I'll try, even if it's hard."
After that otherworldly exchange.
"By the way, everyone. What's the reason for gathering like this? Looks like I've unintentionally interrupted an important meeting—"
Rishir surveyed the room.
Karor and Palrag, of course, along with Fienne and Meltas—covering all key figures from Bondales.
It was safe to say the heavyweights residing near Bondales had assembled.
There had to be more than just "needlessly worrying about Rishir."
"What? You're back?"
"Lady Rmier!?"
And even the Gray Tower Master.
"You're back. Did you resolve the issue?"
"Well. Right now, all I can say is it's a mess."
"Pardon? What do you—"
"Here."
Rmier placed a fist-sized storage box on the table.
The form was unfamiliar, but the situation was routine.
"Ah, could this be a fragment of the Archdemon!?"
Rishir brightened.
As if he'd found a nutritious snack for his child.
Rmier let out a scoff.
Several cast meaningful glances her way.
See?
I told you so.
That's what their voices seemed to say.
"You were expecting it, right? But I didn't think it'd be this much."
"Lady Rmier?"
"Anyway. As your reaction shows, the biggest problem the council initially faced can be considered resolved."
"...And yet you're still frazzled, meaning another issue arose in the meantime—I take it?"
"Spot on."
Rmier pointed to the various documents covering the table.
What caught the eye first wasn't the content, but the emblems stamped on them.
"These are letters sent to me, and these to Duke Palrag."
The talent scout Dray picked up two from the pile and said.
"Rishir. These two letters—no, all these letters have something in common. What do you think it is?"
"...Something related to the Archdemon's fragment?"
"Close. Could even call it the right answer."
Dray unfolded one letter and began reading its contents aloud.
Then the next.
And the one after.
As the readings continued, clarity dawned in Rishir's eyes as he observed the situation.
The contents varied, but all followed a single thread.
The stirring of heretics.
Right now.
Reports of heretic traces were emerging simultaneously across the continent.
Rmier continued.
"They haven't taken any notable actions yet—"
"But it's only a matter of time."
"Exactly. Once they start moving in earnest— we won't be able to leisurely gather like this and discuss."
In other words.
Rmier emphasized, raising her index finger.
"This gathering is to pool our heads and strike first, ahead of them."
"...Bondales—"
Rishir said, synthesizing the information.
"Why is only Bondales quiet?"
Currently.
The heretics' movements influenced the entire central-western region of the continent where Bondales lay—it wasn't an exaggeration.
Rishir's doubt stemmed from that.
Amid traces found across the central-western region, why was Bondales alone silent?
Rishir felt unease there.
"Hm? Everyone?"
In the midst of that.
Rishir noticed his comrades' odd reactions.
They noticed...
Their gazes converged on one spot.
A transparent crystal on the desk.
It was the Archdemon fragment Rishir had already purified.
Bondales wasn't just quiet.
It should have been the loudest, but for some reason, it was the quietest.
"Ah...!"
Rishir realized.
That trivial unease dissolved—
"So, what should we do? Before they act in earnest, we strike first and disrupt their plans—"
"No."
Rmier shook her head.
"Heretics. Or the White Shadow Church. For those who usually act in scattered organizations to move so unified is extremely unusual."
"...Something might have united their wills."
Rishir's gaze turned to the already-purified Archdemon fragment.
"Yes. I think the same. The Archdemon's stirring brought them together. So—"
Rmier moved the box containing the Archdemon fragment toward herself.
"This is a crisis, but—"
She then moved the purified fragment beside it.
"—also an opportunity. A chance to wipe out those heretics in one fell swoop."
"...Like this, you mean. Instead of cutting off tentacles one by one, find the head and strike—"
Snap.
Rmier snapped her fingers in satisfaction.
"Exactly. As expected of the Gray Tower's swordsman. Wise beyond measure."
"Hm?"
For a moment.
Rishir felt a slight incongruity.
'Gray Tower's swordsman?'
The Gray Tower Master Rmier using that title of all things nagged at him.
Of so many titles—
Even leaving aside "Honorary Mage of the Tower."
"Gray Tower's swordsman, huh."
As expected.
Feeling a similar sentiment, Palrag interjected.
"You serious? That's the best title for Rishir? Even if you want to brag about your tower— why not just give him an honorary mage position? If you're in such a hurry."
"Mind your own business. It's our tower's affair."
"...?"
Rishir tilted his head.
Palrag's remark, which he'd expected to soothe him, only made it itchier.
'Duke Palrag knows I'm the Gray Tower's honorary mage— doesn't he?'
Rishir signaled Master Meltas with his eyes for help.
The ponytail elder responded with a kind smile and whispered softly.
-A proper honorary title... Then what about the honorary mage position I already have?
Master Meltas blinked.
As if he had no idea what was being discussed.
-...Ah, nothing. Don't worry about it.
Though he wrapped up the conversation, Rishir's sense of incongruity had peaked.
Their behavior.
It was as if they denied—
no, had forgotten he was the Gray Tower's honorary mage.
"Rishir? What's wrong? Some problem?"
As Rishir's expression suddenly turned grave, all eyes in the room focused on him.
Soon.
Rishir shrugged.
So what if they forgot he was the Gray Tower's honorary mage.
It caused no issues in communication or relations right now, so in this urgent situation, it wasn't worth fussing over.
'Something's wrong, but put out the immediate fire first and figure it out later.'
That was Rishir's full take on the anomaly affecting him.
"It's nothing, don't worry."
Rishir tried to resume the meeting nonchalantly.
Creeeak.
At that moment.
Suddenly, a figure entered the conference room, opening the door.
"Hm?"
Rishir looked around.
No one else seemed to notice the visitor.
"So you were here."
He was a man with a hazy, misty impression.
His actions upon entering showed no hesitation.
The attitude of one convinced of his superior position.
"The city's hero, recipient of all respect and love. Honorary Mage Rishir. Probably trying to convince your old comrades of your existence, pitifully."
Thud.
He placed a hazy crystal on the desk and said.
"Here's my proposal. If you help us retrieve our item, I'll return your existence that they've forgotten. Your true name—"
The man's words, spoken boastfully, cut off midway.
"Rishir? Why are you spacing out—"
"Rmier, maybe because you called him that forced 'Gray Tower swordsman' title. Better call him Hero of Advancement."
"Let me make it clear here— Rishir is foremost the Mother of the World Tree. No binding him with base greed."
The surrounding conversations caught his attention.
Was it his imagination?
It felt like they were discussing someone who had lost their true name and existence to Oblivion's curse.
"...Ah!"
Rishir, watching the sequence, widened his eyes in realization.
He said to the man.
"Just to check, which of my true names did you take?"
"..."
The man's hazy features twisted in bewilderment.
A true name was a true name.
What kind of nonsense was "which of my true names"?