Provisional Contract
“Fuck!!!”
Rage boiled up to the top of my head, and I bellowed it loud enough to echo through the entire forest—now half-turned into a flat plain.
Someone might say, “What’s there to get so pissed about? It’s not your story anyway.” But how could I not be furious? All of this happened because Battōjutsu never spread far and wide.
If Pier had wielded a real man’s weapon—a katana and Battōjutsu—instead of some gay-ass rapier, none of this shit would’ve gone down.
Even if it had, he could’ve just slashed those bastards to pieces with Battōjutsu, along with that bitch of a daughter.
In the end, this was all Pier’s fault for never learning Battōjutsu.
I felt a tear welling up unbidden—a pang of sympathy for this poor victim, seduced by a gay weapon like the rapier.
‘They said the marriage lasted twenty years, and the daughter’s around nineteen…’
There was a chance the affection faded after year one and he started cheating, but considering the knight originally belonged to her family… they’d probably been fucking long before the wedding.
Those filthy fucks must’ve been thrilled to snag a sucker ATM who swung a rapier.
This is exactly why you don’t hook up with girls who suck dick before marriage.
Every time Pier was away, those two must’ve gone wild at night, begging for head or a battō—ecstatic.
Imagining them demanding that dirty battō even before marriage made bile rise in my throat.
What an insult to Battōjutsu. And that daughter bitch never said a word, so she clearly saw her own dad as nothing but an ATM.
‘No matter how I think about it… I can’t forgive them!!’
Pier had sinned a few times in the comments, mocking Battōjutsu in ways rivaling mistranslation crimes. But that didn’t justify ending up like this.
Only I—the wielder of Battōjutsu—had the right to punish him. Not those filthy scum.
“Spirit!! What happened to those bitches after that?!”
“Why the sudden shouting…? If they hadn’t repented and confessed their crimes, they probably took over Pier’s family completely…”
“Fuuuuck!!!”
Scum like that don’t suddenly turn over a new leaf. It must’ve happened just like that.
Unable to contain my fury again, I screamed at the top of my lungs toward Pier’s grave.
“Fuckin’ Pongpong bro!!! Do you even know why the hell you died like that?! You should’ve killed her on your wedding night when there was no blood!! If you’d learned Battōjutsu, you could’ve done it, fuck!!”
“Pongpong bro…? Are you from that world too—blood brothers or something?”
“No, that’s not what I—!! Argh!!! You fucking shit!!”
I didn’t want to badmouth the dead, but seriously—what kind of moron finds his kid in bed and doesn’t kill her?
He had the justification and the power, yet he just wanders off into the woods for a solo suicide? Insane.
“Hey, which way is Pier territory?”
“Why ask that…?”
“I’ll avenge you in his place, even if it’s not my business.”
I wasn’t thrilled about using Battōjutsu for some petty personal grudge like this, but I couldn’t forgive those cuckoo bitches more than that.
I resolved to handle the revenge myself, for poor Pier who never learned Battōjutsu.
“…Stop.”
But even as I offered to avenge him, the spirit shook her head.
“Why?”
“That’s not what Pier wanted. Don’t you get why he couldn’t kill his own daughter back then?”
“No clue. Why couldn’t he?”
“…Even if she wasn’t his real daughter, he couldn’t bring himself to strike the child he’d watched grow up.”
“That makes even less sense?”
If you’ve watched someone since childhood, don’t you know exactly where to slash for maximum effect? Shouldn’t it be easier?
I’d unconsciously gauged vital spots on my parents or the maids while practicing battō draws since I was a kid.
I voiced that thought aloud, and the spirit gave me a pitiful look.
“I thought you and Pier had something in common after hearing you were from the same homeland. Guess I was wrong.”
“Huh? Obviously. He swung a gay-ass rapier; I wield a katana.”
No similarities whatsoever. As swordsmen—or humans—I was leagues above.
“Anyway, I don’t want revenge. Who would we even avenge? Making descendants pay for an ancestor’s sins from two hundred years ago—what a joke.”
She gave a self-mocking laugh, but my lips didn’t even twitch.
No—a world with guilt by association, and this is the mindset? Shouldn’t we rip apart every last grandson’s grandson and desecrate the graves?
“Even if we sought revenge, only Robo, I, or Pier—who no longer exists—have the right. I appreciate you thinking of him, but please let go of that anger…”
“Guh…!!”
With the man himself saying this, I had no justification left to act.
Storming Pier territory alone and bisecting those illegitimate spawn with Battōjutsu would be simple.
But that’d just leave a record of me coolly killing them with Battōjutsu.
Not that I’d judged the usurping bastards who stole their seat unjustly.
I needed legitimacy. For that, I required the spirit’s cooperation—she who’d lived from then until now.
But how do you convince a spirit who’s one with nature, enlightened under a bodhi tree like Buddha with Battōjutsu?
No ideas came, so I hung my head in silence.
“…Take this.”
As I despaired over failing to avenge Pongpong bro, the spirit handed me the rapier and staff stuck in the ground.
“To truly honor Pier isn’t pointless revenge—it’s using these rightly to save as many lives as possible. Please do that.”
I couldn’t muster a single retort. As I reached for the rapier, a demonic—no, a Battōjutsu-perfect idea struck.
‘I have no right to revenge, but that doesn’t mean they can’t strike first.’
Exactly. I can’t seek revenge, but if they come at me first to punish me, I’d have no choice but to fight back.
Before taking the rapier, I said to the spirit,
“Spirit, promise me one thing.”
“A promise? What?”
“If a dispute arises over ownership of these rapier and staff after I take them, you side with me unconditionally.”
“Of course. From the moment I acknowledged you, the ownership is yours.”
She stated it like it was obvious, as if the rights were hers—but they weren’t.
I hated to admit it, but strictly speaking, the rapier and staff belonged to those illegitimate descendants.
But what if a random baronet—especially one who’d beefed with the von Grind lady—suddenly claimed the founder’s relics?
If I were a prestigious noble, they might hand it over for slaying Robo, forging strong ties.
But I wielded Battōjutsu and was just a low-rank noble—infamous at the academy for clashing with a great noble’s daughter!
They’d demand it back, claiming rightful ownership.
Then I’d accuse them of being illegitimate spawn and assert my claim via the rapier’s authority.
They’d call me a liar, of course—but I had a witness who’d seen and heard it all.
A spirit—clearly a high-ranking one—testifying on her existence? No counter-evidence could overturn that.
To settle it quietly, they’d demand a duel to prove their innocence.
After that, a duel or war to oust the bastards and hand the seat to some semi-legitimate collateral branch. Done.
…I’ll make damn sure those bitches’ corpses get publicly desecrated.
It wouldn’t change that Pier got cucked, but it’d improve my mood—an irreplaceable perk.
I couldn’t wait to dig up their graves, smash those thick faces, and battō their necks.
Noticing my expression, the spirit asked suspiciously,
“…You’re not thinking something weird right now, are you?”
“No way! Anyway, let’s seal this provisional contract quick. I don’t want to raze the forest again over your testimony.”
“…Fine.”
She extended her hand reluctantly; I did the same.
"I am Marga, the high earth spirit. By this pact with you, I swear to entrust this form to you for a time."
Marga lowered her hand after those words. Since this was my first spirit contract, I tilted my head.
“……That’s it?”
“It’s just provisional—what’d you expect? Call my name anytime, and I’ll rush over to vouch for your ownership.”
“Cool.”
Reliable, I thought with a quiet smile.