Chapter 42
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 42
Perhaps life was about walking forward while carrying unbearable pain and intolerable sorrow.
One had to carry it. Not cast it aside or turn a blind eye, but hold it close. Rickert and Boribori cherished that pain, that sorrow, and held on tight. In proportion to its weight, as much as their hearts ached and bled, they would grow into stronger people.
But it took time for those feelings to take root and for them to stand tall once more. Time to accept what had happened.
Fearing wild beasts might scavenge the body, Rickert and Boribori buried the Nameless beneath the temple. As for the quintet, they couldn't care less whether their corpses were eaten or not. However, the massive body of Hanet was another matter. It was already giving off a terrible stench as it rotted, and there was no need to endure that as well.
After a few days in the ruined village, their food was nearly gone. It was time to leave.
The sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with white clouds as clean as pure cotton. The wind carried a slight chill, but it was nothing a warm cloak couldn't handle. On such a day, Boribori sat on the temple floor with his knees pulled to his chest, like a young beast refusing to leave its dead father’s side.
His expression wasn’t one of depression or sadness. He wasn’t blank, either; he was simply staring into the distance, lost in thought.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Boribori turned to see Rickert, fully packed and ready to depart. A sword was slung over his shoulder, and he gestured with his chin, signaling it was time to go.
Without a word, Boribori stood and slung his own bag over his shoulder.
Leaving the temple, they were greeted by lush fields kissed with dew. Though it was a bit early in the season, white and yellow flowers had already begun to bloom. A clear stream, formed by melting snow, babbled its way toward the lowlands, its surface breaking into sparkling ripples under the sunlight.
The two boys, Rickert and Boribori, walked alongside it.
*
“Hmm…”
A man with an impressively neat beard furrowed his brow, carefully examining a sword. He wore a very serious expression.
The blade was about a meter long with perfect balance. Its edge was clean, without a single nick. The craftsmanship was superb, but that wasn't what made the man frown. It was the subtle blue sheen that shimmered across the steel when tilted, a luster so mysterious it was like gazing at captured moonlight.
The man looked up. Two boys, one in a red cloak and the other in dark brown, were staring at him blankly.
“Where did you get this?”
“…”
They didn’t answer. Did I speak too softly? the man wondered. No, that can’t be. Are they mute?
He looked back at the sword. Just then, the blond boy grabbed the scabbard and held out his hand, clearly wanting it back. With a sigh of regret, the man returned the sword. The boy sheathed it with a surprisingly practiced motion.
Shhhk. Clack.
As they turned to leave, the merchant called out.
“W-wait a minute.”
The boys turned back.
“How much were you thinking of getting for it?” he asked.
“…”
Still no answer. They really must be mute. Two armed, mute boys. How strange.
But that wasn't important right now. The weapon merchant hesitated, weighing his options. Should he offer a dirt-cheap price, a reasonable one, or just be honest?
The blond boy’s eyes were fixed on him, as if reading the conflict waging behind the merchant’s gaze.
In the end, his conscience won. He couldn't help but let out a deep sigh of regret.
“That sword, from what I can tell, is forged with a metal called Truesilver. Even a tiny amount is worth a fortune. What’s more, there aren’t many blacksmiths in the entire empire who can work with it. It’s rumored to be the metal of choice for those who have reached the level of Swordmaster. They say it has a great affinity for mana. What I’m trying to say is, this is an item I cannot possibly afford to pay a proper price for. If you want its true value, you’ll have to go to a big city and put it up for auction.”
The sword in Rickert’s hand was none other than the one Steiner had used. The Ghost Sword was at Boribori’s waist.
At the merchant’s honest words, Rickert offered a faint smile. He placed a silver coin on the table to pay for the appraisal and bowed his head. Boribori awkwardly mimicked the gesture.
Then they left the weapon shop. For now, Rickert strapped Steiner’s sword securely to his backpack. Though it was a longsword like his Meteoric Iron Sword, it was slightly smaller, and he probably wouldn't use it. The sword one was accustomed to was always the true masterpiece.
Rickert and Boribori wandered through the city, buying necessary supplies. They purchased emergency crops like potatoes and sweet potatoes, dried rations made from ground grains, smoked ham, and firewood.
Throughout it all, the two never spoke a single word. If they needed to communicate, they would tap each other, gesture with their eyes, or use simple hand signs.
Was it because the sorrow of losing the Nameless was too great? No, not entirely. It was more that they were imitating him. It was the boys’ unique way of mourning—and half a game. An unspoken bet where the first one to speak would lose.
Because of this, when their eyes met, they couldn't help but chuckle. In doing so, the two boys learned the value of silence. By being quiet, they discovered things they could finally hear and see.
Besides, it wasn't a real inconvenience. They communicated perfectly fine, and if a fight was necessary, they would simply fight without backing down.
Thus, Rickert and Boribori left the city and walked the road leading south. It was the road to the Academy.
The landscape felt like it was on the boundary between winter and spring—both an end and a beginning. Rickert had always disliked winter, but thinking of the Nameless, he couldn't bring himself to hate it anymore. Regret mingled with the welcome of spring, creating not a feeling of loss, but a mysterious third color that spread across his heart.
In a sense, it was an incident where two of the Nine Swords of the Empire had died at once, with one of them finished off by Rickert’s own hand. It was an absurdly legendary feat, but Rickert himself didn't care. It didn't matter to him whether anyone knew or not.
Fame was just fame, a weightless thing like a feather. Rickert knew that over time, it would scatter like sand in the wind. The world was full of strong people, and someone else would simply fill the void. And that person, too, would eventually fall to another. Such was the fate of those who walked the path of the sword.
Then what was important? A harmonious family had given him peace of mind. The Nameless had instilled in him an indomitable spirit and confidence in human will.
That was what was important. And Rickert would not lose sight of it.
He had mastered the art of fighting with a sword long ago. Now, he sought something deeper and wider than mere fame.
Splash, splash!
As Rickert was walking, lost in thought, the violent sound of splashing water broke the silence as they crossed a bridge. He stopped and looked down. A short distance away, an armored knight was flailing in the water.
No, on second thought, it couldn't be a knight. The figure was far too small. Moreover, the scabbard at their waist was empty, as if they had lost their sword. And they couldn't be drowning; the river wasn't even that deep.
In other words, someone in full armor was flailing in the shallow water all by themselves.
Rickert and Boribori stood still, watching curiously. Deciding they might need help, the boys made their way down from the bridge. As they got closer, they realized the person couldn't see because their Great Helm—a so-called “tin can helmet”—had been knocked sideways.
They were about to offer help when the figure crawled onto the shore. Stumbling, they somehow found their balance and seemed to regain their senses, so the boys just watched quietly.
But then, the figure flailed their arms again and fell flat on their butt on the gravel. Sitting there, they struggled to twist the helmet back into place and finally caught their breath.
When she spotted the two boys staring down at her, she gasped and scrambled backward, dragging herself along the ground.
“Kyaaa!” she shrieked. “D-do not come any closer!”
Anyone could tell it was a girl trying to sound like a grown man. Since the boys had no intention of getting closer anyway, they just stood there and watched blankly.
“Hmm,” Boribori grunted, having no idea what was going on.
At the sound, Rickert immediately pointed at him.
“Oh? You lost.”
“Me? Why?”
“You just said ‘Hmm.’”
“That’s not a word.”
“Doesn’t matter. You lost.”
“Dad said ‘Hmm’ before, too.”
“Did he? Anyway, Bori, you lost.”
“…What happens if I lose?”
“Well, I don’t know.”
The armored girl, still sitting on the ground, could only blink in dumbfounded silence. She had no idea what on earth they were talking about.
It was a situation where no one understood anyone else. Why was a girl in full armor flailing in a river, and why were two boys arguing about winning and losing over something so ridiculous?
To the girl, at least, the boys’ appearance was unusual. They were better armed than expected, and their clean clothes made them look nothing like bandits. There were plenty of children who turned to banditry, but they were usually filthy from living in the mountains and forests.
Having not spoken a word for days, Rickert and Boribori now turned to the girl who had finally made them break their silence.
“You should dry your clothes and get warm,” Rickert said. “It’s still cold. You could die.”
Once you left home and entered the wild, there were countless ways to die without ever drawing a sword. The most common were starvation and hypothermia. Spending just one night outside without proper gear would teach you how painful that was, especially now, when winter hadn't fully receded. To Rickert, it looked like the girl had nothing but the armor on her back.
“Uh… uh…”
But pure goodwill was rare in this world. She couldn't just blindly accept their help.
“If you don’t want to, then so be it. Take care. Let’s go.”
When the girl hesitated, Rickert turned to leave with a coolness that bordered on coldness. Panicked—because she really could die—she quickly called out.
“W-wait a minute!”
Rickert and Boribori turned back to look at her again.
“I-I thank you for your kindness, sirs. H-however, I currently possess nothing. I-if, by chance, you desire my body as payment, that cannot be. Please, swear in the name of God and the Empire that you will not do so.”
Her tone sounded like that of a knight from her grandfather’s generation.
“Sure, I promise,” Rickert said, agreeing immediately. He had absolutely no such thoughts, so it wasn't a difficult promise to make.
With that, he reached out his hand. The girl hesitated for a moment before taking it and letting him help her up. Standing, she was about the same height as Rickert, who was around 160 centimeters tall. Girls usually grew faster, but since she was similar in height to Rickert, who was simply well-developed for his age, they seemed to be about the same age.
“It’s a bit early, but let’s find a place to camp,” Rickert said.
“Okay,” Boribori agreed.
Thus, the two boys and the girl moved off together. The girl’s mail armor made a clink, clink sound with every step. The wet, plain purple surcoat she wore over it bore no coat of arms.
Since they needed to build a fire and get her dry as quickly as possible, they didn't go far, settling on a suitable spot in the forest near the stream. It was a place where a large, flat rock jutted out like a roof. They unpacked their things and immediately built a campfire.
The problem was that she had to take off her armor and clothes to dry them.
The girl felt awkward just sitting down, and once she did, she didn't know what to do with herself. She kept glancing at the two boys, but they stared back so intently it was unnerving. Because of that, it took her a long while just to remove her helmet.
When she finally did, a truly astonishing beauty was revealed.
Her blonde hair, tied tightly back, was somewhat disheveled, and damp strands clung to her face, but it did nothing to diminish her beauty. Her eyes were as blue as gems, her skin as white as snow without a single blemish, and her features were striking.
Illuminated by the campfire, the girl’s shrinking figure looked pitiful.
But what the two boys said next was absurd.
“If Erze saw you, she would have skinned you on the spot.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“…Huh?”
“It’s okay,” Rickert added calmly. “Don’t worry. We killed her.”
“…Huh?”
She had no idea what they were talking about, but it sounded terrifying. Boribori took a towel and spare clothes out of his bag and handed them to her.
“Do you need help taking off your armor?” Rickert asked.
The girl lowered her head in embarrassment. “Y-yes…”
With surprising skill, Rickert unclasped the armor’s buckles and stripped it off in an instant. Underneath, she wore a gambeson, which was packed with cotton and had become incredibly heavy now that it was soaked.
Rickert hung the armor on a nearby branch, then sat down next to Boribori. Together, they turned their backs to her.
Having never experienced anything like this, the girl was flustered, embarrassed, and confused. Her heart pounded as if it would burst. She kept wondering if this was really okay. Aside from everything else, she had never even imagined changing clothes outdoors.
But Rickert and Boribori didn't ask for her story, nor did they even ask for her name.
In any case, the girl undressed, dried herself with the towel while staring at the two boys' backs, and changed into Rickert’s clothes. Since they were of similar height, they fit reasonably well.
“I-I am fully dressed.” Her way of speaking fluctuated with her nerves.
Like perfect gentlemen, Rickert and Boribori had not looked back once. Only then did they turn around to face her.
“Feel better now?” Rickert asked.
The girl, sitting with her knees pulled in, just nodded. Having passed the immediate crisis, she seemed to have calmed down a bit. Her damp, loose blonde hair fell down her back.
“If our paths overlap, we can take you there. Where are you going?”
Staring into the campfire with a somewhat sorrowful gaze, the girl answered.
“Beringen Adventurers' Academy.”