Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: What the Sword Cuts (7)
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"There's nothing here. Jeo."
The man dressed in bear hide spoke. Jeo silently surveyed the vampire's castle, which held no trace of vampires. There wasn't a single sign of life in the castle. It was as if no life had ever existed there from the beginning.
"Why not give up? You know full well the vampires' power. Sure, you graduated top of Citadel Academy and all that, but they're not something one person can handle. And among them was that sword ghost Ropo..."
"Ban didn't die."
Jeo said in a resolute voice. The man in bear hide let out a sigh.
"I get that you believe in him. I know you like him too. But face reality. Who could survive alone in a place like this? Unless the captain of the Royal Knight Order shows up, he's as good as dead."
"...And if Ban really died here."
Jeo narrowed his eyes.
"Then why isn't his body anywhere to be seen?"
It seemed natural enough that no vampire corpses were visible. They had vanished from the world along with the storm clouds. But Ban wasn't a vampire. His body should be somewhere, no matter what. The man in bear hide replied with an awkward expression.
"...Who knows. Maybe they ate him?"
"You and I both know they don't engage in cannibalism."
"Then they buried him somewhere."
"Ban's alive."
Jeo said as he glanced around. As if something would come into view if he did. The man in bear hide sighed. He admired Jeo's loyalty, but it inevitably led to these tiring situations sometimes.
'He won't give up until we actually find where the body is buried...'
What could he say to change Jeo's mind? He was pondering this when Jeo, who had been scanning the surroundings, suddenly dashed toward a certain spot.
It was an apple orchard.
"What is it, Jeo? Did you see something?"
"...I told you. Ban's alive."
"What are you talking about?"
Instead of answering, Jeo approached an apple tree and touched one of its branches. And in that instant, as if it had been waiting for that slight stimulus, the branch shattered into dozens of pieces and fell to the ground. The man gaped at Jeo in shock.
"Wh-what, Jeo? When did you...?"
"It wasn't me. It was Ban."
Jeo curled up the corner of his mouth. What kind of swordsmanship had he learned to deliver dozens of slashes without giving the branch a chance to fall? Jeo slowly approached the tree from which the shattered branch had hung. He soon wore a strange expression.
A cloak—equivalent to a knight's pride—lay neatly folded at the base of the tree.
Jeo murmured.
"...What are you thinking, Ban?"
§
Eustaine's Forest drew many visitors for various reasons. Some sought the forest's vital energy, or that of the land itself, alongside the Eustaine sages. There were no few martial artists eager to challenge the ascetics said to be stronger than beasts.
And the Forest Wind Inn survived day by day thanks to these pilgrims. People of all kinds—good and evil alike—flocked to such an inn. As such, the innkeeper Kalsen had become quite adept at judging a person's type by their appearance alone.
'Poseur.'
'Looks strong at a glance, but actually a poseur.'
'Has a kind face... but it's a con artist's poseur.'
Few escaped the label of 'poseur' in Kalsen's book. Even those who crossed the harsh 'Red Desert' to reach Eustaine's Forest should have some basics, yet lately, the ratio of poseurs seemed especially high.
In that regard, the current guest couldn't help but give Kalsen a peculiar feeling.
"Ban? Just a one-letter name?"
"Yes."
"Which room? Desert side or forest side...?"
"The cheaper one, please."
"Desert side it is..."
For one, this man had more than a few peculiarities. Kalsen had seen people carrying two swords, even up to three... but four swords? And a mismatched jumble of a bamboo sword, longsword, broadsword, and the like—it was dizzying to look at.
But the biggest oddity was that he had emerged from Eustaine's Forest. Sure, there were plenty who lived in their forest without being Eustaine clansmen, but none could enter or leave that forest freely on their own. By law, all passage required a druid's guidance.
'...Did he sneak in and out?'
Should he report it to the Eustaines? He decided against it. From an innkeeper's perspective, stirring up trouble brought nothing good. Especially not rumors of selling out guests.
'Poseur... or maybe not...'
Kalsen's doubts lingered for days.
The man exuded some indefinable aura. Plenty approached him out of curiosity or fighting spirit toward the one carrying four swords. But Ban's lukewarm demeanor was enough to make them lose interest.
'Poseur.'
Probably.
Kalsen concluded as such. He had no idea why such a man had come here, only to kill time without going anywhere, but that only made Kalsen's attitude toward Ban grow pricklier by the day.
"...Ban. Why exactly did you come all the way here?"
"I just went wherever my feet took me, and ended up here."
"It's been a fortnight. A whole fortnight, and you've done nothing but rest. Just watching people come and go... Does that really spark no thoughts?"
Kalsen took a swig of beer and glanced around. He saw pilgrims with their own purposes, steeling themselves anew for Eustaine's Forest. They were on sacred missions, each one.
"Carrying four swords doesn't make you four men's worth of a swordsman. If you've got the stamina to lug them around, why not swing one at least?"
"Maybe not drawing the sword makes you stronger?"
"Hah? What nonsense is that? Doesn't even sound right to you, does it?"
"You're right."
Ban chuckled.
"But since it doesn't make sense, it feels more plausible somehow."
"Enough with the clever wordplay. Get ready to leave already! How long do you plan to waste time in a place like this?"
"I'm a paying customer—aren't you being too harsh?"
"It's because you're frustrating to watch. Frustrating!"
Of course, that wasn't his only reason.
Kalsen's daughter, Armen, lingered unusually often by Ban's side. She brought him extra food and even woke him before the rooster crowed.
"You're weird."
Armen propped her chin and lay sprawled beside Ban, who sat under an apple tree staring blankly at an apple. Sunset hues shimmered in her hair above her healthily tanned skin. Ban glanced at her and asked.
"Why weird?"
"Everyone who comes here chases some dream. To find God's will. Become a forest spirit. Seek enlightenment the world can't offer. Become a druid. Fight a druid... But you? No goal at all."
"I have a goal."
"What goal?"
"..."
In the past, Ban would have immediately answered 'the world's strongest swordsman.' But those words didn't come easily now. Did he really want to be the world's strongest? And what even was the world's strongest?
Armen interpreted his silence as she pleased. Giggling, she pushed off the ground and sidled up to him.
"Don't be ashamed of having no dream. Is life only for dream-chasers? Ban, I like that you have no dream. You don't act all high and mighty like you have some noble mission."
"..."
"Stay here. Ban."
Armen drew close enough for her breath to brush his nape. Beyond her distinct features overflowed a girl's alluring youth. Her olive eyes blazed with undisguised desire for him. Her breath was hot, her scent sweet. Knowing her slipped clothes revealed her cleavage, she deliberately pressed closer.
"I like that you have no dream. You won't leave for anywhere, so you can stay with me forever."
"...You're misunderstanding, Armen."
Ban replied with an inscrutable expression.
"I'm not without dreams. I need to see the sword's ultimate truth."
"Hah, liar. Someone like that doesn't train daily but just lounges around?"
"...If it's training, I've been doing it nonstop."
Training without drawing the sword.
As Armen scowled to snap back, an apple began to fall from the tree. And in that moment, Ban's hand vanished.
That's all Armen's eyes could perceive. The apple falling toward her head had, by the time she instinctively looked up... shattered into dozens of pieces, splattering her face.
"...Ah, ah..."
"I've never stopped dreaming for even a moment. I just didn't know what the dream was."
Shock lingered briefly on Armen's juice-smeared face. Whether annoyed at her own foolishness or not, she soon composed herself and wiped the apple juice from her face.
"...Couldn't that dream be named 'by Armen's side'?"
"We've only known each other a fortnight."
"Love blooms in a fortnight. Enough time for dreams to wither."
"Maybe."
But not today.
Ban pulled up Armen's slipped clothing. She met his gaze with feigned haughtiness. Ban said softly.
"And even without dreams, I have a woman I like."
"You think all the men I've seduced so far were unattached?"
Ban burst into a chuckle at her retort. Armen puffed her cheeks in a pout.
"So... you're leaving too?"
"Probably."
"You'll regret it. Missing the best woman of your life."
"Who knows. We'll see."
Ban smiled tepidly. Thinking it an enviably charming smile, Armen sighed.
"Anyway, you've got some real skill. I don't know swords well, but turning an apple like that in an instant... Hmm, not a 'poseur' after all."
"Thanks for the praise."
"Where to next?"
"Plenty of places. Just a matter of where to start. And for now..."
Ban slowly turned his head. A disheveled blond man, eyes gleaming, had been watching them—unclear since when.
"...I thought you were just some kid lugging around a bunch of swords, but I've met a real eccentric."
Someone Ban had crossed paths with multiple times at the Forest Wind Inn. A wandering knight who sought out the strong to fight, or so he said. Ban glanced at his ragged knight's cloak, then back at the man.
"You know me?"
"Sure. I'm in the room next to yours."
"...Hmm. How much did you see?"
"From when that young lady was putting on quite the provocative scene... Hmm, even watching that longer would've been entertaining enough, but this turned out even better."
The man drew a greatsword. One that seemed heavy enough to snap bones with a mere overhead swing.
"Let's have a go."
It was a ghostly fighting spirit. One that made flesh tingle just approaching. A spirit that would make most poseurs collapse without even facing it. Yet facing it, Ban felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
'...Was I ever like that?'
Full of openings. That fidgety display failing to show true strength...
Pitifully shabby.
"...B-Ban. Don't fight him. That's Quint, the one who stood alone against a rebel unit in the west. You'll die."
Ban didn't reply. Was she still doubting his skill after seeing that? Well, perhaps she thought it was just slicing an 'apple.' Amusing. People never see the exact same thing, even looking at the same.
"Ban of Shionel Village."
Ban said curtly. The opponent showed no clue where that was, but it didn't matter. Ban gripped his sword. Staring at the man consumed by battle lust, he advanced like a babbling brook.
He gripped Ropo's sword. What Ropo had honed wasn't a mere apple, and likewise, what Ban had just cut wasn't a mere apple.
With each step Ban took toward the man, he vanished bit by bit. Quint watched, sweating coldly. He too hadn't fully grasped the meaning of the apple Ban had cut.
'Huge...!'
With every step Ban took, Quint transformed—from man to tree, tree to forest, forest to mountain. He bellowed in frenzy.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
He swung the greatsword down. A weight burdensome even to lift for most, but his trained body wielded it like a beam of light. Seeing Ban not budge an inch, Quint smirked inwardly. Victory. Perfect distance. Next instant, Ban would be bisected...
And the next instant, Quint screamed silently. At some point, his blade had shattered into dozens of pieces on the ground. All he held was the sword's hilt.
Ban said quietly.
"If you saw it once, you should've understood. What I cut."
That it wasn't an apple, but time.