Chapter 130
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 130
"So, the wandering hero was here after all."
"……"
Instead of answering, Sian revealed himself and pulled back the hood of his robe.
His light brown hair, a common shade, reached his collarbones. His dark brown eyes, a shade deeper than his hair, were listless and cold. Even with his untrimmed hair covering his eyebrows, he was undeniably handsome.
"This is my first time seeing you in person. I was starting to think they'd just made up an imaginary hero."
Rashumer mocked him, a petty revenge for being caught by <Unconsciousness> earlier.
Sian Tsukikrup was famous as the only mage among the Empire's three heroes and as the continent's only sage who could cast magic without chanting. But above all, he was famous for being the wandering hero. He rarely showed himself to the public, even when crises struck. As a result, quite a few people doubted he even existed.
"…You're in no position to say that to me."
Sian finally broke his silence, his deep, resonant voice settling over the room.
He sat on the corner of the sofa, his cold gaze unwavering. Ar held up his hands, as if to defuse their silent war of nerves.
Only after the tense atmosphere had settled did Ar speak.
"A war will break out soon."
Both men turned their gazes to Ar, their eyes filled with questions.
Ar added, "A civil war. And it won't be easily suppressed."
"Who would start a civil war?"
The evidence had already been gathered.
No, there was no need for evidence.
Nor was there any need to gather it.
Hadn't the culprit already come in person twice to announce it? Though he hadn't used the word ‘war,’ he had kindly delivered a declaration of it before leaving.
"Pope Yuranesia III."
Ar spread his arms—a gesture inviting Sian to verify the truth with <Coward's Excuse>.
Sian's staff glowed. After the result confirmed Ar's words were not a lie, Rashumer asked tentatively, "…Regardless of the truth, I don't think the Pope's faction is strong enough to stage a coup."
"Certainly not with the Pope's forces alone."
The Pope of the Empire had been consistently kept in check by the imperial family. Even if he had secretly expanded his influence, there were limits.
"He must have an ally."
"…Have you found out who the ally is?" Sian asked.
Ar shook his head. "For now, we are secretly investigating the Holy Kingdom, as they are the most suspicious, but we haven't made any significant progress."
"Shouldn't we just capture and kill the Pope now?"
"In our current situation, where we don't know the strength of their ally, that isn't necessarily a good idea. Besides, no matter what we do, the war is inevitable."
Though he said as much, Ar's goal was not to prevent the war, nor was it to end it as quickly as possible.
He only needed to profit from it.
"I would like your help."
Rashumer sighed. From his perspective, Ar was completely self-centered. He claimed there was no need to go to the front lines, yet he was throwing all kinds of proposals at them.
…In that moment, Rashumer felt he knew exactly what Ar would say next.
"For the Empire."
As expected. A truly twisted form of patriotism.
*
And because of that…
"From today on, I am your master."
"…Eh?"
Dragged before Rashumer in the middle of her meal, Uin let out a sound that was half-question, half-shriek.
"First, a two-week, closed-door training session. You cannot leave this place during the training period, so steel yourself."
"W-Wait a minute! W-What is all this? When did you prepare…"
Just yesterday, this place had been a field of blooming flowers. Now, it was a full-fledged training ground. Even the building in the corner had obviously been constructed in a hurry.
"I asked Sir Ar—no, the Captain—and he had it built in a day."
"What… I mean, more importantly, I was dragged out here while eating…"
Before Uin could finish her sentence, two mages approached from afar. They immediately used teleportation magic to bring over her entire dining table.
It was hardly a polite way to do things, but Rashumer couldn't care less.
"I've been out of touch, but I didn't realize everyone practically faints at the mere mention of 'Black' in the Black Wolf Knights."
"……"
Dumbfounded, Uin stared at Rashumer. Wait, didn't he just say 'Captain' a moment ago?
"Are you already part of the knights?!"
"You were the one throwing punches, telling me to join. Now that I have, you're complaining?"
"No, but what about the knighthood ceremony?!"
"We handled it administratively. Since the Captain oversees all the paperwork for the subjugation squads, he fast-tracked it through a simplified process."
"How is that even a thing?! A knight who skips their ceremony… I've never heard of such a thing! I practiced for days for mine!"
"That's because you're an active hero. And this was the Captain's order. Don't blame me."
"How could you…"
"Though, of course, I was the one who called you out so suddenly."
As a sign that he would accept no further protests, Rashumer raised his sword. It was a greatsword with a completely dull edge, a lightweight sparring weapon.
"This is the sword I'll be using to beat you."
Rashumer pulled out a pair of gauntlets he had prepared. They were enveloped in blue mana, thickly layered with multiple spells.
"These are specially made gauntlets. They have so many layers of shock-reduction magic that even a decent martial artist couldn't kill a fly with them. Put them on."
"…Are you really planning to start right now?"
"Watch your honorifics. Until you quit, I am your master."
"……"
"There's food. I'll do the cooking. On days you show no progress, you get steamed potatoes. On days you do, you get roasted potatoes. Choose wisely."
"They're basically the same thing!"
"My teaching method is strictly sparring. I'll only tell you what you did wrong and how to fix it during the last three days. Until then, you'll learn by getting beaten. In a crisis, instinct saves you, not theory. Learning through pain is faster."
"…Is that kind of method really going to work?"
"Uin. Have you ever sparred with Bern?"
"…Yes."
"And the result?"
"…I lost."
"Then trust me. Bern learned from me the exact same way. Don't think you won't improve. Just focus on landing one more hit and taking one less blow."
Uin, who had been utterly incredulous, put on the gauntlets with a look of grim determination. Since words wouldn't work, she would just have to beat him down and escape.
"You said you wanted to get stronger, right?"
This time, Rashumer's voice was serious.
"No holding back like last time. Come at me with the intent to kill. I'll be holding nothing back either."
Phase. 7
It was a cloudless, clear day, offering a panoramic view of the surrounding mountain range.
"Here, take this."
Out of nowhere, a girl thrust a pickaxe at Niphrim. He took it with a dazed expression. The crude texture of the handle marked it as a clumsy, homemade tool.
"……"
What am I supposed to do with this?
Unable to voice his question, Niphrim stared blankly at the pickaxe. He looked up at the girl, down at the pickaxe, then back up at the girl.
"What's with that blank look?!" the girl finally snapped, her patience worn thin. "How long were you planning to just sit around doing nothing? It's about time you earned your keep!"
It had been a few weeks since he had come under the village's protection.
Niphrim had completely blended in.
Located halfway up a mountain, the village had little contact with civilization. According to the villagers, it was officially a viscountcy, but the terrain was so rugged that the lord seemed to have given up on managing it—and the tax collector certainly had.
Years ago, a tax collector had been attacked by monsters while climbing the mountain. Perhaps because of that, the new one didn't even come near the village, clearly unwilling to risk his life for a few meager local goods.
The only visitors were travelers crossing the mountain and peddlers who periodically came to trade. As such, the village was largely self-sufficient.
Able-bodied men formed groups to hunt wild beasts. Carpenters built wooden fences to guard against monster invasions. Scouts monitored the approach of monsters, and others were tasked with guiding the peddlers.
With a severe labor shortage, no one was idle. The village women worked just as hard.
In such a place, Niphrim had just been idling.
The peddler couple had only brought him here thinking he would die, intending to give him a proper burial. While his miraculous survival was a blessing, they couldn't afford to feed him for free now that he was alive and well.
"This is a crop called tobu. It's scattered all over. Just dig into the ground with the tip of the pickaxe, and it'll come right up. You can cut the stems, but don't damage the roots, and don't dig too recklessly. And absolutely do not go outside the wooden fence!"
Most of the women farmed in their spare time. Since the mountain had little arable land, they harvested wild greens and tobu within the safe zone.
Having just recovered after several weeks, Niphrim was assigned to harvest tobu alongside the women and a few young boys. The village was determined not to let a single hand go to waste.
"…Mmh."
Holding the pickaxe, Niphrim let out a soft groan.
He was used to holding swords and spears, but a farming tool felt completely foreign in his hands.
He was used to harvesting the heads of humans and monsters on missions, but harvesting crops was an entirely new experience. Since he had expected to live his entire life as a dog of the 'Third Eye', he'd never imagined holding a farming tool.
It was a peace he had never planned for.
So…
How exactly was he supposed to use a pickaxe?
As he stood there blankly, the yellow-haired girl who had been nagging him shot him a glare. She was the daughter of the couple who had brought Niphrim here. Her name was Pesil, a name he remembered clearly because she had practically blasted it into his ears from their very first meeting.
"Don't slack off, you idiot!"
At Pesil's nagging, Niphrim had no choice but to raise the pickaxe high. Mimicking the posture of the other villagers, he swung it down, producing a loud clang that drew everyone's attention.
Clang!
Perhaps because he had put too much force into it and lost his aim, the blade of the pickaxe struck a rock embedded in the ground.
The already loose wooden handle came off completely. The iron must have been poor quality, as the blade, which had cracked instantly, spun through the air before clattering to the ground.
"…My mistake."
"Hey, you idiot!"
Pesil smacked the back of Niphrim's head. The human weapon, once hailed as the masterpiece of the 'Third Eye', stumbled comically from a single blow delivered by a village girl.
"Hey! Do you know how precious a pickaxe is?! Breaking it without even harvesting a single tobu… Ugh, I don't know! You're so stupid! Dumber than a goblin! How do you not even know how to use a pickaxe?!"
"I don't remember."
Niphrim shook his head, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
When he had first spoken after recovering, he had claimed he couldn't remember anything. Since there was nothing to gain from revealing his identity, he had used amnesia as an excuse.
Thinking about it now, it seemed like a stroke of genius. As she was shouting at the top of her lungs, Pesil suddenly asked in a subdued voice, "…Do you still not remember anything?"
"No."
"Not even your name?"
Niphrim nodded. Since the name Niphrim was on the subjugation request, it was better not to reveal that either.
"Well, if you don't remember, I guess it can't be helped."
Pesil, who had been about to get angrier, glanced around before speaking in a calmer tone.
None of the villagers tried to pry into Niphrim's past. Half of his face was covered in scars, leading them to assume he'd had a difficult life.
"If hunting wasn't going well, the adults would probably scold you, but lately the hunting has been great and there's no food shortage, so they'll forgive you."
The mood of the adults shifted drastically depending on the success of the day's hunt. When monsters were rampant, their range of activity shrank, naturally lowering their success rate.
Recently, however, monsters had barely shown themselves, so the hunters were enjoying unprecedented success. No one knew why. Last time, a troll that had been lingering around the village was even found dead.
Rationally, it had likely crossed paths with a subjugation squad, but the simple-minded villagers believed a guardian deity had descended upon the village.
For that reason, since the adults were in a good mood lately, they would probably let it slide, even if he broke a pickaxe.
Pesil looked at Niphrim. He still wore a blank expression.