Revenge is Not Far Away
Revenge is not far away. It had been a while since I'd picked up my sword.
"..."
To move forward in a better direction. People get lazy if they stay in one place, so for growth, I was wielding my sword and meditating.
Right, meditation...
"Eek..."
Medi...
"Eeeeek...!"
Oh no.
I let out a deep sigh as I watched the Young Lady flailing her hands around wildly. She was interrupting my rare moment of meditation.
"Young Lady."
"Ungnya."
"I'm meditating right now."
"Ung. You're doing great."
"..."
I closed my eyes again. Slowly recalling past events, sinking into the mental space within...
"Eeeeeek!"
"Young Lady?"
The Young Lady glared at the empty air with eyes full of fury, gesturing wildly.
"Ricardo! A fly is bothering me."
"I'll catch it later, so for now, let me meditate..."
"Eeeeeek!"
The tomboyish Young Lady was thoroughly disrupting her butler's meditation. How was I supposed to focus with all that racket?
"Die!"
"Pfft...!"
I just couldn't figure it out. With a small smile, I walked toward her. No matter how important meditation was, I had a duty to protect the Young Lady's mental health as she battled a fly. She'd been a patient just days ago, after all.
"Uuu..."
She'd gotten much better, though. Thankfully, after Malik's check-up, she'd recovered her health in no time. Her energy was back to normal—as if she'd never been sick—and her gluttony had only increased. The jerky in her hand said it all.
"My jerky... Grrr."
"Don't growl."
"But they're sticking to me! It's annoying!"
"Calm down."
"Grrr."
The Young Lady, munching on her jerky bit by bit, saw me approaching and smoothed down her frizzy hair, her face turning sulky. I gave her a gentle smile and suggested she rest inside.
"Young Lady, why not rest in your room for now? It's cool in there, and no flies."
"No way! I wanna watch you, Ricardo."
"It'll be boring."
"That's fine. I'll just watch it fun."
Her straightforward answer left me with an awkward smile as I lightly swatted the fly lunging for her jerky.
-Whiiiiiing.
-Slash.
-Thud.
The fly split in half with a clean slash, and the Young Lady's eyes sparkled as she clapped in delight.
"Eeeeeek...!"
"What's so impressive about that?"
"Human flyswatter...!"
"Is that the best praise you've got?"
"It's amazing! How do you do that?"
"..."
I picked up a stick from the ground and placed it in her hand. Then I showed her the most basic sword technique.
"Here. Grip it like this."
"Ung."
"Exhale sharply."
"Hup!"
"Not hold it in—breathe out."
"Hoo!"
"Good. Now swing it lightly, like tossing it."
"Hyap!"
-Thud.
"...?"
The Young Lady stared at the stick on the ground, a question mark practically floating over her head.
"It ran away."
"..."
"Pick it up."
She really wasn't good at anything but magic. Clutching the stick again, she swung it enthusiastically behind me, burning with determination like she might one day reach Sword Master.
"Eek!"
"..."
"Heek!"
She flailed her hands wildly.
"Having fun, I see."
With the Young Lady as background noise, I focused on meditation again. Time for the real mental immersion. Recalling every battle I'd fought and every crisis I'd faced, I steadied my breathing.
"..."
-Die, you punk!
-...Fuck.
-The little shit should learn humility after a beating like that. Oh? What's with those eyes?
Glass shards swung in the slums to avoid starvation.
-Run...!
-Puhahaha...! This is fun. Try running, kid.
The bloody battle with the archbishop where I'd steeled myself for death. The final moments of all those I'd slain with my own hands. I began shaping the space within my mind—my own dark, deep domain.
The sword was truly difficult. A blade that fell like a key to an ignorant novice. Without a proper master, back when I feared blood, I'd swung it only to survive.
A better future. The disasters from the original story. Swings to protect the precious people. None of it could be called righteous. I wasn't some movie hero or a sacrificial champion.
Pure selfishness drove my blade. To avoid being trampled, to stand beside the shining ones.
No regrets. Without that selfishness, I'd have been swept away by the novel's winds. The story's tone was dark. So many died in battles with archbishops— a world too perilous for an unnamed extra.
What romance fantasy? It could pass for dark fantasy.
Standing in my mental space, I let out a hollow chuckle and poured power into my sword, seeking direction. I'd lost my path.
Mihail had found the holy sword, amplifying his hero's power. Yuria borrowed the saintess's strength for radiant glory. Ruin gained the grimoire of infinite light.
But me...
"..."
Nothing. Limits to growing via the possessor's memories. Sure, ways to get stronger existed, but I'd hit another wall eventually.
I needed a different path. Endless growth, no end in sight. Like Mihail in the novel. Like the heretics' pope.
To avoid being swept by their winds. Honestly, I had no confidence in beating Olaf in a rematch. He was strong. I was weak.
Countless duels in my mind—all ended in my defeat. So many shortcomings, such burning desire.
Trials ahead. People to protect growing.
"Man..."
I was someone no one could beat now, yet...
Still lacking. More than the me from my dreams. Greedier for it.
"Haa."
The sword was hard. I conjured the version of myself from my dreams in the mental space. I didn't know him, but...
...maybe something to gain.
I took a deep breath and raised my sword.
Finishing the mental battle, I wiped sweat from my brow and muttered softly.
"Hoo... Tough stuff."
The Young Lady, who'd been swinging her stick, tossed it to Gomtang and replied.
"What's tough?"
I grinned playfully at her tilted head.
"Solving your gluttony, Young Lady."
"Eek?"
"You keep eating even when full."
"Eeeeeek!"
She scrunched her brow at the sudden bolt from the blue, clenching her fists in protest at being teased while just watching quietly.
"Eek. Don't tease."
"I'm serious."
"Heek?!"
Pointing at Gomtang, she said,
"Bear cub, bite him!"
-Gom?
"Bite!"
-Gom.
"Eeeeeek! Not me! Bite Ricardo!"
"Pfft!"
I burst out laughing at her flailing hands as she shoved her head into Gomtang's mouth. Then my face soured, recalling the fight. Not a single strike had landed.
-...
-Damn.
-...
-Dodging that...?
A monster. The dream me.
"Truly..."
"Ricardo!"
The Young Lady, prying Gomtang off, yelled at my dazed expression.
"Ricardo!"
"Ah...! Yes, you called?"
"Ung. What's for lunch today?"
"..."
At the world's hardest question, I stalled with an "Hmm..." Asking the chef's opinion when she could've just demanded it.
"Good question."
I feigned ignorance, though I knew the answer.
"Paprika pasta?"
"Heek..."
"What's wrong?"
"I hate paprika."
I ruffled her hair as she pouted.
"You'll say meat, right?"
"Heehee! Yeah."
"Then why ask?"
"Feels good when what I want matches what you want."
"What's that, your flirting?"
"Heehee!"
She beamed innocently. Gazing at the bright sun, I stretched lazily. No answers from sword pondering now.
The conclusion? Fight stronger foes.
Troublesome.
Sheathing my sword, I moved slowly to make lunch.
"Shall we head to the mansion then?"
"Ung."
"Body feeling okay now?"
"Of course."
She flexed her arm with a healthy grin.
"Good. Time to show off my skills after so long."
I pushed Perry No. 1 toward the mansion.
In a dark space.
"Kuhhh."
The man wrapped in bandages gritted his teeth, groaning.
"That bastard..."
The man's identity was Yung, the Archbishop of Oblivion.
Yung stared at the wound on his stomach and sneered bitterly. He hadn't expected betrayal from that dog.
-Where are you headed, Archbishop of Oblivion?
-Ah... Isn't that the Archbishop of Greed? Thought you'd failed your mission and returned to the god's embrace, but here you are.
-God still has use for me.
The dim-witted, greed-blinded fool pressed on.
-So where are you going?
-Heh heh heh. Revenge, of course.
-Revenge...?
-My eye. My right arm... He took something, so I take something back.
-Ah... I see.
-Stab...!
Yung groaned, recalling the battle, clenching his fist at his pathetic defeat, his roar echoing in the darkness.
"Puhaha... Haa... Fuck. Too embarrassing to report up the chain."
His eyes blazed with rage, teeth grinding. Then, his eyelids twitched at the pleasure to vent it.
"Come to think of it... That bastard had a favorite toy."
Thinking of the silver-haired boy, Yung grinned wickedly. The fruit seemed ripe now.