Chapter 70
Chapter 70
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 70
Chapter Title: Trust of the Former Supporter (2)
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Valian had spent the most wonderful time with the children.
A time of perfect happiness, like something out of a dream.
But just as dreams must eventually end, even the happiest moments weren't meant to last forever.
"Mister, we're heading out now!"
"Alright. Make sure you eat plenty when you get home."
"Hehe, food's been coming out great lately, so don't worry!"
"That's right, that's right."
"Mm, good to hear."
To Valian, those words felt like the well-deserved reward for all his efforts.
They're not going hungry.
How reassuring was that?
'...Those numbers really do make a difference, after all.'
Those meaningless little digits to him.
Even though he still viewed them skeptically, the children's beaming smiles were proof enough.
Their clothes were clean and new, a far cry from the ragged, patched-up outfits they'd worn when they first met. It was a sight for sore eyes.
'Good.'
This was his way of making up for what he couldn't give his own kids back in Midgard.
Some might call it deception, but to Valian, every one of these heartwarming moments was precious beyond measure.
That's why he couldn't let go of this instant, those tiny hands in his.
Even knowing it was selfish self-satisfaction...!
Thud, thud.
The evening stroll home was peaceful.
It had been bustling on the way there, yet now it was eerily quiet.
He didn't resent his old comrades for leaving first. He just wondered mildly why they'd bothered giving him a ride at all.
'...Luke.'
While his other comrades had stagnated, fleeing in fear, Luke had grown steadily, his limits nowhere in sight. A comrade from the past.
Thinking of him brought back the memory of that fist crashing down on him.
'...Even without using mana, I was overpowered.'
The miraculous first day in this world after leaving Midgard.
Luke had toyed with and subdued the entire party, Valian included.
His physical condition?
He'd been on the run, but he was at his peak.
Carelessness?
Valian had never been careless in battle, not once.
Above all, they'd been on equal footing.
Valian's superhuman senses could detect even the faintest trace of mana in Luke. He was certain.
That day, he hadn't sensed the slightest mana fluctuation!
In other words, Luke had fought with self-imposed handicaps despite his mana reserves—and it had taken less than three minutes to subdue them all, handicaps and all.
This meant a massive gap had opened between Luke and the rest of them.
He was dying to see what kind of decade Luke had endured, what relentless effort he'd poured in.
But even more pressing than witnessing that grind...
'I want to fight him again.'
...was his burning thirst for battle.
For revenge?
No. Valian found fleeing shameful, but defeat was something he could humbly accept as long as he lived.
So his reason for wanting a rematch with Luke was simple.
'It'd be fun.'
A clash with an overwhelmingly superior foe.
What could boil a barbarian's blood more?
'Next time there's an opening, I'll ask for a spar.'
He probably wouldn't agree, but persistence was key. Ten times if not once, a hundred if not ten, a thousand if not a hundred—stubborn knocking would eventually yield an answer...
Valian thought to himself.
With his battle lust ignited, Valian headed straight home and made for the room where Luke would be.
Simple and straightforward: Decide, then act. That was the barbarian way.
But...
"Hm? Everyone's in the living room."
No need to go to the room—Luke and the others were all gathered in the living room.
"Ah, you're back?"
Sylvia's response, the only one who bothered to reply when the others ignored him.
Hearing that, Valian...
"......"
...felt an inexplicable awkwardness.
'...What's this?'
The living room looked no different from usual.
The others were the same.
Ignoring him, focused on their own things; Sylvia being the polite one. Nothing out of the ordinary.
And yet...!
"......"
Valian's instincts picked up on some subtle wrongness, a strange sense of déjà vu.
'I've felt something like this before. Definitely...'
[Have you eaten?]
"...Hm, not yet."
[If you're hungry, I'll prepare some food. Sylvia, care to help?]
"Sure, Aram."
"...Please do."
His train of thought interrupted, Valian dismissed it as imagination.
'Must be fatigue building up.'
Making him have these silly thoughts.
A spar would have to wait.
Fighting in suboptimal condition was foolish.
Deciding to eat quietly, Valian sat at the table. Aram efficiently reheated food using the oven, induction cooktop, and microwave, while Sylvia plated the finished dishes.
All simple fare that just needed warming.
Kimchi stew, spicy pork stir-fry, grilled mackerel, and assorted side dishes appeared in a flash.
'This convenience never gets old.'
Valian smiled, receiving a heaping bowl of rice as he marveled at how effortlessly the meal came together.
"I always say it, but your cooking is delicious."
[It's just stuff from internet recipes. No big deal.]
The AI robot arm linked to Aram fidgeted shyly.
What an astonishing technology.
"...I helped too, you know?"
"You didn't actually cook anything."
"Should I make something then?"
"No thanks."
"......"
While the others made edible food in moderation, Sylvia's cooking was the worst.
Even Valian, who ate like a wild boar and wasn't picky, couldn't stomach it. That said it all.
"I-I'm better now, at least."
"What's edible for humans and beasts are two different things."
"......"
With that rejection, Valian devoured what amounted to ten servings.
"Gotta eat moderately today."
[Is that moderate...?]
"Of course."
He normally needed more to maintain his calorie intake, but overeating was unhealthy.
[Isn't this already overeating?]
"This is eating light."
[......]
Aram gave up on the conversation with a sigh. Valian, polishing off ten bananas for dessert and downing two cartons of milk, finally looked satisfied.
Demonstrating the marvels of the human body, Valian then washed up and prepared for bed.
Work hard, eat big, fill up, then sleep.
A straightforward principle that explained his robust health.
[I think I get why you're always so healthy, Valian.]
"A warrior must always be ready for battle. Conserving stamina is only natural."
[Sleep and meals are definitely key.]
"Mm!"
Valian nodded vigorously, chatting idly with Aram.
Just trivial small talk.
But...
'...Something's off.'
Why was that déjà vu creeping back?
The sensation he'd dismissed returned, a vague unease wrapping around him.
Drip...
"......"
Drip...
...It was a bead of sweat hitting the back of his hand that revealed the source of his discomfort and déjà vu.
Sweat trickling down the bridge of his nose.
Like the instinctive danger signal a beast emits upon sensing a predator...!
Only then did Valian realize what this feeling stemmed from, scanning the living room anew.
At a glance, they looked normal—but he knew better.
He knew.
They were like a picture with subtle flaws, nothing like their usual relaxed selves!
'...No openings.'
His comrades, always slacking off since leaving Midgard...!!
'They're limber and ready.'
Feeling their poised stance, primed for combat at any moment, Valian closed his eyes instinctively.
He'd figured out who they were gearing up to fight.
"Am I the prey?"
"......"
"I see. I've hunted prey into traps before, but never dreamed I'd be on the receiving end. A novel experience."
"......"
No reply. They all clamped their mouths shut, holding their positions.
That alone answered his question. His instincts solidified into certainty.
"But one thing puzzles me."
Valian rose slowly.
His muscles tensed like armor forged from hard stone...!
The barbarian grand warrior, exuding immense pressure and presence, addressed the group's center.
"Why hunt me?"
"V-Valian, I..."
"I wasn't asking you, Leon."
"......"
His gaze was fixed on Leon.
The trickiest hunter of them all.
But the most dangerous, the one he truly needed to watch—the sole figure sharpening his senses—was just one man.
And that man answered.
"Beats me. I'm annoyed as hell about having to do this myself."
The man, visibly irritated by the situation.
While the others radiated flawless tension, the most dangerous man in the house—seemingly defenseless—was merely inconvenienced.
"Well, if I had to give one reason..."
Luke opened his eyes, sharp as an eagle eyeing prey, belying his lazy tone.
"Valian, you're currently suspected of being a 'Devil Worshipper'."
"......"
"You know what that means, right?"
"Mm..."
Valian kept a straight face, but his eyes twitched faintly.
Devil Worshipper. He knew all too well what that label entailed...!
And anyone once suspected as such...!
"By the authority of the former commander of the Allied Forces' 7th Division."
I commence the heretic hunt.
......No human rights guaranteed.
The spar he'd craved had arrived in an unwanted form, but Valian felt no joy.