Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: What Is This? It's Scary. (6)
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# 14
2. What is this? It's scary. (6)
#9 Their Circumstances: Future Hero's Circumstances.
"There is no evil in this world. There are only people living by their own convictions."
I remember those words clearly because the beating got a little lighter.
Ah, how foolish was I?
Even after getting beaten like that by that senior before, even after that senior warned me! To let my guard down just because it was a wooden stick!
And what the hell is that weapon? Even blocking with my sword sends pain crawling up my wrist into my body.
Evasion is the only way to survive, but the instructor's swordsmanship is incredible. Evasion is impossible when even defense is this tough.
In the end, all I could do was keep getting hit.
"There is no one in this world without a backstory. They only did what was right from their perspective, and from the victim's side, it was just an unjust act."
This beating I'm taking right now feels pretty unjust, but if I open my mouth, I'll get hit more, so I should shut up.
"If a woman is murdered right in front of you, what would you do to the killer?"
"Guh!"
I don't know. I need to survive first.
"What do you think, No. 17?"
Since I didn't answer, he asks No. 17. Oh right, she was here.
Yeah. Try stopping him or something!
"I think we should hear their side."
"And No. 1000?"
"Hmm... I'm not even a hero, so I'd just ignore it?"
...Even in this situation, look at No. 1000's personality. Can't expect anything from her.
"The most ideal thing is what No. 17 said—listening to their story. But people tend to remember things to suit their convenience. They could claim the murdered woman was a spy from another country, or a wicked demon in disguise. The point is, it's hard for you to know if that's true or not."
No, the clear fact is that I'm still groaning from the hits.
And that vicious weapon keeps coming down on me even now!
No one's paying attention to me anymore as I crawl on the ground. Ah, damn it!
"Unless you're a god, you can't always choose the right path. So it's better not to worry about it. If someone tries to start a great revolution, just watch. A revolution is treason to someone. Even this empire, said to be the strongest on the continent now, started as a revolution by a common citizen who overthrew a kingdom—the empire's founding emperor. But during his founding of the empire, there were three rebellions."
Yeah, so what?
Stop hitting me!
"Those three rebellions were all started by the founding merits. They were later recorded as traitors, but in the early days, they were heroes who shared the first emperor's will. But they lost in later power struggles, defeated by the emperor, and became rebels who committed treason. Power is always the victor's history. So the path to surviving the longest is to be neither victor nor loser."
"Surviving long?"
"Yes. Most people come to an organization like this for similar reasons anyway. Especially even more so after the Great War."
Not me? My brothers sent me here because I was in the way of their power struggle?
Thanks to my damn father who thinks this is normal, I can't even go home and have to live here?!
So stop hitting me!
Ah, but why won't I pass out? Is my body this tough?
Or is the pain just building up, not an illusion?
"You can't always live life as you want. But you don't have to do only what you don't want either. Just pray to the gods. For the serenity to accept what you cannot change. For the courage to change what you can. For the patience for changes that require time. And for the strength to wake up in the morning and try again for today."
Ah. Great Goddess of Light Sermir. Please don't let me get hit anymore. Please stop this damn instructor from hitting me. Please let me go home and beat my damn brothers. And if possible, let me eat breakfast tomorrow!
"I-Instructor... sir. P-Please... stop..."
But the gods don't grant my prayers. As that old philosopher said, life is something you carve out with your own feet!
Right now, I desperately want to shout—God is dead!—but more importantly, I need to stop that hand moving on autopilot.
"Save..."
Uh... sleepy. Hmm. My late mother is waving over there?
Maybe because she died giving birth to me, her voice doesn't carry.
But it'll be fine. She looks just like the portrait at home.
Still, I can't hear well. What is Mother saying?
Don't come here?
***
"Uh, he's dead."
At No. 1000's words, the hand gripping my ankle trembled and let go.
Talking with the others, I forgot about No. 1. Sorry.
But look at this hand moving automatically. It's practically a macro.
Is this the posture of a seasoned instructor?
"Take No. 1 and go. Today's class is over."
"He's really dead?"
His eyes are rolled back showing only whites, tongue out, foaming at the mouth, but he's not dead. That's the point of this weapon.
"He's not fragile enough to die from this."
It's one of the top ten works of the Black Anvil clan, one of the top dwarf families, and they take it seriously.
The Black Anvil clan, who always made weapons to kill in wars and felt self-loathing, were overjoyed to hear this ingenious idea!
After completion, they tested it and canceled mass production plans for some reason, but giving it a spot in their top ten inventions means the perfection is flawless.
Probably because mass production would require collaboration with elves—a rival race—so they didn't.
"He'll wake up after sleeping it off today."
Nodding, No. 1000 dragged the fallen No. 1 away.
Dragging him by the waist with both legs up, something keeps bumping his head.
Eh. He'll be fine. Idiots always have thick skulls.
Anyway, he said training's over for today, but my work isn't done.
Honestly, I don't think they even assign paperwork to instructors. Especially not on days like today when I personally trained the students!
If the organization lacked admin staff, maybe, but it doesn't.
Due to the nature of an evil organization, lots get injured on missions and hard to redeploy, so we put them in desk jobs—and there are a ton.
Is it un-evil-organization-like to say we have decent welfare?
Normally, other evil organizations dispose of the useless, but maybe because our backbone is the Liberation Army, or to boost loyalty?
Doesn't matter either way. We have desk jobbers, so why is an instructor like me, responsible for the organization's future, doing paperwork!
Damn desk jockeys, take my work!
Stamping away on training-related docs and simple command letters, stacking paper towers in the corner, when I sense someone at the door.
"Come in."
"Yes."
Surprisingly, it was No. 1000 who entered.
What? This survival instinct monster already sensed the baton's danger and came to attack?!
Possible with her?
Ugh, just in case, I always wear steel plates on my gut, but her sword energy could pierce it.
Used to be expensive metal plates, but now with funding shortages, melted down for other stuff—now regular steel plates! Crisis!
"What's up?"
Pretending to look at papers calmly, I slip my left hand under the desk.
Hmph. If the gut plate's thin, intercept before it stabs my belly!
This is my space already—few buttons under the desk and hidden weapons/traps activate!
"The one who survives longest is the victor."
"Got a question from earlier?"
Or to kill me and survive longer?
"I want to be a victor."
Step by step.
Small footsteps matching her body approach me.
Looking up, No. 1000's face shows unexpected enthusiasm.
Her showing this expression, except for food.
I've watched her as her instructor, and this is truly surprising.
"Do you know what it takes to survive long?"
"Food."
"Right."
No food, you die.
"Strength."
"Right."
Be it martial, intellectual, or influence. Without strength, the strong can take you anytime.
"Luck."
"Essential."
Life's an RNG fest!
Good luck and everything comes without trying.
"And..."
"Don't know more?"
"Yes."
Nodding at No. 1000, I place my left hand back on the desk lightly.
Hm. Asking for extra training, huh.
If it was No. 1, no bonus, but No. 1000 is different.
This No. 1000 number is from junior training camp. When she graduates, if she's top ten across all classes, I get performance bonus several times my salary—proven by past classes.
"That'll be my job as instructor to teach you."
Growing students as instructor is that, right? But no rule says I have to do it myself?
#10 Their Circumstances: Mira's Circumstances.
-The Path to Long Survival-
When did it start? When just surviving became my life's purpose.
As far back as I remember, holding Mom's hand and fleeing was daily life, scavenging for even a scrap of bread.
In the heart of war. As a citizen of an empire enemy nation, days busy dodging day by day—that was normal.
Food was my life's purpose.
But looking back now, it was just struggling to live.
Why do I want to live? Why struggle so hard? I ponder but don't know.
Still. I want to live. I will survive. So to do that...
"Huh? Not going in?"
After tossing No. 1 onto his bed, as I grab my door handle but pause, next-door No. 17 tilts her head.
Only three trainees, so we're practically neighbors.
"In a bit."
No. 17 looks puzzled but goes into her room without caring.
I let go of the handle with a click.
Yes. To survive. That might be the best way.
I turn back, pass the training ground, head to the instructor's quarters, knock—but no one.
Probably still working...
"Come in."
In front of the instructor's office.
I lower my hand before knocking. He sensed me already?
"Yes."
Is he working? Scribbling on paper, not even glancing at me.
"What's up?"
"The one who survives longest is the victor."
"Got a question from earlier?"
The instructor says indifferently.
But after hearing that today. I suddenly realized something.
"I want to be a victor."
I want to be a victor. Survive long. Don't want to die. Most of my remembered life was close to death.
Always starving to death.
Always scared to death.
Always hurting to death.
Wondered if dying would be peaceful, but dying scared me for some reason.
So I always ran from death.
Yeah, just ran.
Ran from adults eyeing me dangerously.
Ran at news of empire magicians called war reapers.
Ran from unbeatable orphanage rivals fighting for food.
Always. Ran.
Crunch.
I bite my lip hard. Salty blood tastes in my mouth.
Always running like that—I hate it now.
One step. Another toward the instructor.
"Do you know what it takes to survive long?"
Finally looking at me, the instructor smiles slightly.
What does survival need? Of course I know.
"Food."
Hungry means no strength. Every step tires. World goes white sometimes. Especially without water—hell.
"Right."
See. Instructor agrees.
"Strength."
Weak means stolen. Pain of losing hard-earned food only victims know. To reclaim, need strength. Weak means stolen and dead.
"Right."
See. Instructor agrees.
"Luck."
Bad luck means hit by stray magic and dead. Good luck survives barrages. Life/death paper-thin. That paper is luck.
"Essential."
See. Instructor agrees.
"And..."
Can't think more. Something else. I know it. But can't explain.
"Don't know more?"
"Yes."
Then I don't really know it. Just a feeling. Not precise.
That's why I came to the instructor. He says satisfied.
"That'll be my job to teach you."
He takes me somewhere.
Thought I'd used all facilities here past months, but opens rusty door in what I thought was storage, descends stairs to small cave.
"Thought you'd need it later, but seeing your enthusiasm, I'll open it now."
"Is what I want here?"
"Yes. If you can survive to get it."
If I can survive?
That means...
"You might die..."
"Yes. Possible. But as I said, survivor is victor. Loser dies. Life and death always together. Live. Prove it."
With that, instructor leaves without another word.
No order to enter. No asking my will. Trusted me. Brought me here.
"Life and death always together."
Muttering, I open the door.
Ping!
"Eek?!"
Barely dodge something flying past my cheek.
Instructor is always right.
Follow his words, everything goes well. Hard words sometimes, but shows by action if not understood.
This time too, dangerous as he said, but pass and get what I want.
So I understand him. Understand, but instructor...
Arrow to head right as door opens is too much... sniff.