The Eastern March

"Hah... hah..."

I swallowed a ragged breath and drove my feet into the ground. I had run only a few strides, and already this bloated carcass was whining that even that was too much. It had been going on for an hour. Given Lucas's build and his stamina, collapsing by now would have been no surprise at all. And yet I myself was not finding it all that hard.

"Hoo..."

The strain was beginning to settle in, so I stopped where I stood rather than force it, and selected a single potion from my inventory.

I had learned it living as a hunter. Cast a healing spell like Heal the moment training ends, and stamina never actually takes hold. Exhausted muscle grows denser as it rebuilds itself; heal that damage all at once, and the process vanishes. What I needed was not healing. It was regeneration. And this potion was a cash item that drove that regeneration into a frenzy.

"Fast. It's fast."

The fatigue of the workout vanished the instant I used it. An obvious result, if one thought about it. In the game, this was no mere cure for tiredness — it was potent enough to regenerate serious wounds. Spending something like that on exercise was pure extravagance, and because of that extravagance a few minutes of rest gave me more than a full day's recovery.

"All right. Let's keep going."

Body restored, I ran the training ground again. I was not even pushing hard, and still my stamina climbed in a way I could feel as the time passed. The synergy really is excellent. The Growth Elixir and the Recovery Rate Enhancement Potion — those two cash items were performing exactly as I had hoped. For a full hour I enjoyed sixteen times the benefit of ordinary exercise, and without so much as waiting on my body's recovery, I wrung that benefit out to its limit.

The result—

"Oh..."

In a single hour, Agility and Stamina on my status window had both risen to 2. A long road still lay ahead, but for one hour's work it was no small thing. This is better than training for a solid week, isn't it?

There were problems, of course. My stomach churned, and my hands had begun to tremble. A thread of dizziness joined them. The potion had restored my stamina, but it had supplied neither extra energy nor water, and so the symptoms of exhaustion came calling.

"Then... I should eat first."

There was no reason to refuse a meal. I was training to build stamina, not to diet. Someday I would have to pare this flesh down, but for now stamina came first. So I would eat.

Settled on that, I steadied my breathing and turned toward the door of the training hall — and there was Walter, staring straight at me, bewilderment and disbelief mixed on his face, as if he had seen a ghost.

...Right. I had forgotten the old man.

The Lucas in my memories was a man who found even walking a bother. For someone like that to be running this hard was, from Walter's seat, reason enough to be shocked. I made a point of ignoring his gaze and walked past him. His surprise hardly mattered. Still — from next time on, I would have to tell him to wait outside the training hall.

From that day on, my routine was training repeated. I went to the hall from morning and ran, ate more than ten times a day, and when the sun went down I slept. A week passed that way, and then it was morning.

A knock sounded. I opened the door.

"Here you are."

Walter, my escort knight, had brought me a mission notice — a short letter stamped with the Duke's seal. Its contents were exceedingly brief.

I read it and tilted my head.

"Is this all?"

"Yes. That is the whole of it."

"The contents are terribly thin. Like this, I don't even know what these demons are, or how many of them there are."

"Demon-subjugation missions are generally so."

Walter answered with perfect calm. From the way he spoke, this did not seem like a strange assignment handed down just to torment me.

"Truly?"

"I was told the matter began with a report from the domain resident who found the corpse. But one cannot wring the particulars from a commoner who knows nothing. Investigating the details is work for a knight, or a noble."

Fair enough. This was a world without anything like a police force. A report had come in, so I was to investigate — and, while I was at it, deal with the thing. More troublesome than I thought... I lifted a brow. I had expected it to end like a game quest: knock down a few monsters and be done. Perhaps because the game had become reality, it was not going to be that simple.

"When am I to begin?"

"...Tomorrow."

I nodded. Walter stared at me.

"What are you looking at me like that for?"

"Do you truly mean to carry out the mission?"

He asked it as if there was no chance I would. I was dumbfounded. How thoroughly had Lucas wrecked his life, for someone to ask that to his face? Still, knowing that past, the doubt was only natural. So I went on, as if drawing a line between myself and the man I had been.

"I do. From here on, I mean to live a little differently."

"I believe I have heard those words from you some thirty times, Young Master."

"No. Truly — truly, I will change. To the level of a man born again."

"And the vow to be reborn a new man this time — I believe I have heard that some twenty times as well."

This bastard Lucas. He really had said everything under the sun.

"Then I won't be reborn. I'll become an entirely different person. For instance... as if a hero of the Empire had possessed me."

This time I slipped the truth in, lightly. Walter, of course, showed no sign of believing it. He only nodded.

"...Then I shall understand that you will, for the present, carry out tomorrow's mission."

"Not for the present. I said I will."

I grumbled the answer, but Walter no longer looked willing to believe a word I said. Well. The karma on this one had to be thick. Announce a reformation now, and of course it would not take.

What a nuisance.

I did not need to persuade him with words. He would see it in what I did. Rather than argue with him any further, I decided to focus on tomorrow's mission.

"Take it that way, then, and you may go."

"Understood."

Doubt never quite left his face, but he withdrew without protest. After he was gone, I opened my status window in the quiet of the room. Had a week of effort borne fruit?

"Oh..."

Strength, Agility, and Stamina had climbed noticeably since the last time I had checked. Stamina in particular had reached 12 — enough that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠walking and running like other people was no longer a serious obstacle.

On the outside I was still the same waddling, obese young master, but the inside had grown reasonably firm. Strength and Agility sat around the level of an ordinary man. Knowledge, Mana, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Luck remained at rock bottom, but those were not figures exercise could raise, so I let them pass.

Luck, especially, is a difficult one. Displayed as F, it had almost no means of being raised at all. No need to concern myself with it for now.

At this level, an orc or so shouldn't be a problem... but.

I looked at the mission notice. According to Walter, the demons would be orc-level at best, but I could not treat that as certain. Nothing is as dangerous as uncertain information. That was a truth my years as a hunter had taught me.

And the only skill I possessed was still Weapon Master. Inheriting my old weapon proficiency was a comfort, but my body was not yet in condition to express it fully. Just as in my last spar with Greg, there was every chance the flesh would fail to follow the mind.

If only the equipment were halfway decent.

On the off chance, I opened the cash shop. Only the consumables category was still unlocked. There was no tab for buying weapons or armor.

"So I have to go with nothing but my body?"

Rifling through Lucas's memories, I could not find a single piece of arms worth using. Eldest son of a sword house, and all he owned were a few ornamental blades. I would have to make do with the ordinary swords the apprentice knights carried.

Next time, I should see about getting a weapon. A special one was essential if I meant to draw the full effect out of Weapon Master. Finish this mission cleanly, and perhaps I would ask. They might not hand one over just because I asked — but once a man who had lived as a wastrel finally produced a result, they might give it up more easily than expected.

"As for the rest..."

Last of all, I set aside consumables: the potions I had bought before, and an assortment of stat-buff elixirs against whatever might come. Having even these was a relief. Just in case, I purchased a few more of each kind and filled the inventory. Blue-White Stones I had in heaps enough to rot, so there was no cause to be sparing.

And that is as far as preparation goes.

I let out a long breath and looked through the window. The real mission, beginning tomorrow. The thought brought a strange tension, different from anything I had felt in my hunter days.

The next morning, I rose the moment the sun did, washed my face, and made ready to depart. Walter arrived soon after. His face was as calm as ever, but I could feel him taking my measure.

"Are your preparations complete?"

"They are. We leave at once."

From there we went to the stables of the ducal house. Twenty soldiers were already waiting, and with them the horses Walter and I were to ride. I looked first at the men drawn up in ranks — leather armor, each of them armed with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cold steel. As befitted soldiers of House Roenheim, they looked sound enough at the fundamentals. But deep in their eyes there was something like worry. Because of me, of course. They were afraid of throwing their lives away under an incompetent commander.

I passed them and stood before the horse. The one meant for me was unusually large, and looked strong.

"...It's rather big."

I did not bother asking why. I had a fair idea already. Without a word I set my foot in the enormous stirrup. A week of training or not, hauling this heavy body up onto a horse was still no simple matter.

"Nngh—!"

After several straining tries, I finally got myself into the saddle. A few of the soldiers wore the faces of men fighting not to laugh.

Funny, is it? Ha. It is, isn't it.

Even I found the sight ridiculous, so I only grumbled inwardly and took up the reins.

"We depart!"

At Walter's shout, we left the ducal house. Our destination was a small village on the eastern edge of the domain — a full day's ride.

"Agh, my back."

Time in the saddle was harder than I had thought. A backside unused to leather ached, and simply holding my balance on the endlessly rocking horse ate through my stamina. It could not be helped. Built as he was, Lucas had preferred a carriage to a horse, and I — a man of the modern world — had hardly ever ridden one either.

Even so... if I'm to live here, I'll have to get used to it.

I endured the discomfort and took in the land around us. A road set with stone. A bridge of white masonry. And, far off, a broad field of wheat. From inside the walled ducal estate I had never seen it: a landscape out of medieval Europe.

"The view's nice."

I was murmuring that when my eyes met Walter's. Watching me, in case I tried to bolt?

"Why are you staring so?"

"Are you... truly all right?"

"All right with what?"

"The mission. Subjugating demons is more dangerous than you imagine."

So that was it. He meant to warn me.

"Yesterday you were all but begging me not to run. And now this?"

"That is because I believed you, Young Master, would..."

"Aha. You thought I'd have fled long before now."

Walter said nothing.

"Well, what can you do. I have no intention of running. I don't even need to. You saw my sword yourself, didn't you, Sir Walter? The sword that beat an apprentice knight of our famous Roenheim order. With swordsmanship like mine, a demon won't even make a proper opponent."

I said it on purpose, playing the clueless young lord. At that, Walter's face — and the soldiers' with it — curdled in real time. Deeply satisfying.

"So just trust me. I'll see to everything myself. Oh — and don't any of you think of interfering with my orders."

I turned the heat up another notch and hammered the nail into the wastrel act. Walter, who had opened his mouth only to come away without even his stake, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turned his head at last.