Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 006
Chapter Title: Living as a Human
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While the knight who had comically tumbled across the ground struggled to his feet, Shan stood motionless, the sword in his hand dangling loosely at his side.
He had realized that the hunk of metal before him was no longer a particularly threatening foe.
Even accounting for the sunset glow on his bearded face, the man's complexion was an absurd shade of red.
When Shan raised his sword again and thrust it through the air with a whoosh, the knight flinched and took a step back.
On the surface, he looked like a battle-hardened veteran who'd seen dozens of fields of combat—yet here he was, trembling at the mere sight of a blade pointed his way.
After all that tension on Shan's end, it almost made him feel like the fool.
Shan let out a sigh of disbelief, and the man's rugged features twisted in shame and humiliation.
Moments later, the knight bellowed and swung his flail with all his might.
"Uwaaaah—!"
The whoosh of air it cut through was fierce, but Shan felt no threat from it whatsoever.
How could he, when the wielder hadn't even shifted his stance, eyes squeezed shut in terror?
Shan didn't even bother swinging his sword. He simply turned and lightly kicked the knight's shin.
Off-balance, the knight toppled forward with a crash.
At the sight, Shan couldn't help but speak up.
"You have to keep your eyes open in a fight."
"I... know that...!"
Even after face-planting, his growling retort had some spirit to it.
Of course, the moment Shan pointed his sword again, the man froze solid—proof his bark was worse than his bite.
Shan watched quietly before sheathing his blade. He could feel the knight's tensed body visibly relax.
It was downright comical.
Armed or not, the power dynamic between them hadn't shifted an inch.
A heavy silence fell, broken soon after by choked sobs.
The knight burst into tears, pounding the ground with his metal gauntlets in frustration.
"Damn it, damn it! Why the hell are you scared of something like that, you pathetic coward?!"
Shan was taken aback by the fearsome warrior bawling like a child, snot and tears streaming down his face.
This wasn't like the enemies from months ago, whom he'd hacked limbs and heads from right in front of him. He'd just tripped the guy with a single kick, and here he was, weeping uncontrollably?
Unsure how to respond, Shan simply watched for several minutes.
Finally, the knight's sobs tapered off, and he muttered under his breath.
"Kill me."
"Pardon?"
"I'm too ashamed to live... just kill me..."
Even then, Shan felt no urge to oblige.
Like any curious cat, he nudged the seated knight's back with his foot, a mix of intrigue and caution on his face.
"Don't do that."
"Why's a knight in full armor afraid of a sword?"
"...I'm not a knight."
"I heard people in iron armor like that are knights."
"Knights wear plate armor, not this chainmail. Totally different."
His sniffles hadn't fully stopped, but he rambled on anyway—and Shan found it oddly amusing.
Crouching to meet the man's eyes, Shan asked the question burning in his mind.
"But sir knight—"
"I told you, I'm not a knight. Just call me Roden."
"Roden, if you're scared of swords, why'd you come to fight me?"
"I figured I'd just yell and look intimidating. It usually worked on people."
Fair enough—he'd seemed like a terrifying powerhouse right up until he drew his weapon.
Even Shan had bought it at first. Any half-baked bandit would've surrendered without a fight, especially with all that talk about protecting the villagers in exchange for submission...
Perhaps the conversation had eased his mood, because Roden's expression softened as he spoke in a deflated tone.
"You might laugh at me showing my pathetic side like this, but stop using that Altoin magic to trick and scare people from now on. You got lucky it was a coward like me this time. A real warrior shows up next, and you could be in real danger. You might even die."
He held back the part about trying to scare off anyone who might come to kill the poor little Altoin kid before they arrived.
That would sound too desperate, like begging for his life.
Shan tilted his head, genuinely baffled by Roden's words.
"But I haven't tricked or scared anyone."
"What?"
"I've never deceived anybody. I just fought my enemies."
"So the stories are all true? You wiped out a whole mercenary band with magic?"
"Yeah. Though I'm not sure if you'd call it magic."
Shan explained his abilities to Roden.
The capacity to move his body more efficiently, rationally, and precisely than others.
The power to perceive the world in slow motion, accurately reading and predicting opponents' movements to counter them.
Seeing clearly in the dark, and the like.
Unlike the villagers who'd dismissed his tale without listening, Roden paid grave attention.
Shan recounted how he'd used these gifts to defeat the mercenaries in the dark forest and earn respect from the Leaf Village folk who'd tormented him.
Roden listened intently before asking quietly,
"I'm not doubting you, but... could you show me that power sometime?"
"Sure, just a sec."
Shan reached for his sword but paused when Roden flinched at the mere touch of the hilt. Instead, he fetched the iron mace from inside.
It was bent from all his playing around with it, but as a blunt weapon, it was still serviceable.
Gripping the mace, Shan demonstrated the techniques he practiced daily in the forest and mountains—skills meant for harming people with weapons.
Even with his growing frame, he was still a slender boy compared to an adult man. Seeing him whirl the mace at speeds too fast to track left Roden slack-jawed.
For a finale, Shan leaped higher than his own height and flipped in midair—Roden looked like his jaw might unhinge.
"That's more or less it."
"This is... really... Oh, Goddess. How..."
His prayerful clasp of hands reminded Shan of Priest Ador, so he mirrored the gesture and prayed along.
He had no idea what to pray for, though.
Roden finished soon after, sighing as he spoke.
"Mind if I stay just one night? I swear on the Goddess and my father—I won't harm you, per the laws of hospitality."
It was an abrupt offer.
Shan pondered briefly before nodding.
He'd been living alone out of fear of being stabbed in his sleep, but a bulk like that? He'd hear it coming even in the dead of night.
Honestly, it had been fun chatting with someone at length for once.
"I can share food, but you can't come inside the house."
Roden took one look at the dinner Shan offered and insisted on cooking himself.
Shan had thought leftover roasted meat, stale bread, cheese, and raw veggies made for a decent spread, but he felt a twinge of offense—until Roden served his meal.
The food was mouthwateringly good.
Using a dusty metal pot and other forgotten cookware from the corner, Roden combined them with his own ingredients to make stew, melt cheese over the meat, and lightly season and blanch the vegetables.
Simple touches transformed the scraps into a feast several times over.
Seated by the bonfire in front of the cabin, Shan shoveled it in and teared up harder than he had at his first proper roast.
"Th-that good...?"
"It's the best! Seriously, I've never tasted anything like this in my life!"
Roden watched his wide-eyed delight before chuckling and sipping the wine he'd brought.
True to the Leaf Village tales, Shan devoured an astonishing amount.
Good food, wine, flickering firelight, and light conversation loosened the mood perfectly.
Mid-chitchat, Shan gasped at Roden's words.
"Nineteen!?"
"Yeah, I know I look way older."
Roden gave a wry, familiar smile.
He even leveraged it to his advantage.
Like in Leaf Village, a deep voice and stern demeanor fooled everyone into thinking he wasn't some fresh-faced kid just out of boyhood.
Shan stared blankly, mumbling,
"That means you're not much older than me..."
"And how old are you?"
"Dunno. Probably past twelve, but not quite fourteen."
Not knowing one's exact age was common for orphans without proper guardians in childhood.
That alone gave Roden a sense of how the boy named Shan had survived.
After more idle talk, Roden sobered up and got to the point.
"So, you planning to keep living like this?"
"Like what?"
"The Leaf Village folk asked me to drive you off. They were suffering because you kept taking their food. No matter how you see it, that's plundering from farmers at swordpoint."
"But living mixed in with others is too hard."
The excuse sounded like something from city thugs too lazy for farmwork.
Roden scowled in distaste, but Shan's next words drew a sigh.
A daily grind of rising before dawn and toiling without rest until everyone else slept.
All the while enduring casual insults and beatings from everyone he interacted with, scavenging crumbs to eat while starving until his bones protruded...
The "honest life" this Altoin boy imagined was several times harsher and crueler than Roden had pictured.
It was a perfect fit for the "slavery" the Faith strictly forbade.
No wonder he figured robbing with a blade was better.
"When I wield a weapon and my demonic power, people fear me. That's better than being looked down on and ignored."
Roden fell silent at Shan's words, saying nothing for a long stretch.
When he finally spoke, it wasn't a rebuttal.
"My father's a merchant."
"Merchants... buy and sell goods, right?"
"Yep. One of the top ones in neighboring Pendia, even."
Roden Webers' father, Kallion, headed the capital's merchant guild and ran the kingdom's largest jewelry shop.
Naturally, his late-born son Roden had been raised with expectations to follow in those grand footsteps.
"As a kid, I thought my dad was the greatest man alive. Everyone respected him. But... one day, I saw him bow his head to someone."
That someone was a knight.
His father, draped in finery, humbly inclining his head to a knight in worn armor—that image burned deep into young Roden's mind.
And there were plenty more.
Royal attendants, his noble clientele...
For merchants, fawning sycophancy and hosting skills were as vital as keen eyes and reading trends.
Even poor nobles or unskilled knights had to be treated as superiors.
Acting otherwise was rebellion against the class hierarchy.
"To earn true respect from the powers that be and stand among them, you need good blood or real skill. And that skill? It's this."
Roden thrust his clenched fist forward.
Twice Shan's size, veins bulging menacingly.
"Dad supported my ambitions and introduced me to a retired knight. Decent reflexes and technique, great build and strength—not bad potential at all. But..."
"You were scared of blades?"
"Exactly."
He'd been fine with wooden swords or blunted foils, but real edges turned him to stone—like a mouse facing a snake.
Even knowing the wielder meant no harm or lacked the skill didn't help.
Forcing exposure only worsened it.
Now, Roden could barely wield purpose-forged blades; he stuck to maces and flails.
"Dad never blamed me. If anything, he seemed relieved. He respected my wishes but really wanted me to quit knighthood and take over the business. I couldn't give up, though."
In the end, Roden donned custom-made armor, packed his bags, and ran off to Libert Kingdom.
Determined to conquer his cursed phobia through perilous wandering.
Solo travel was dangerous, but his intimidating gear marked him as a seasoned warrior. Thugs shied away from risking it, and monsters lacking blades let him shine.
As Roden wrapped up his tale, he fixed Shan with a deep gaze.
"Guess why I brought this up?"
"No clue."
"I'm so jealous and envious of you it hurts."
Jealousy? Shan had never imagined such a thing.
Who in the world would envy a lowly, wicked Altoin orphan?
Roden chuckled at his stunned look.
"I've met Altoins before. What you've got isn't some 'demonic power.' Sure, night vision's from those eyes... but the rest? Pure talent. You could become the greatest knight in the world."
Seeing the gift he'd craved squandered like this—how could he not lament to the gods? His voice carried profound sorrow.
Shan, listening quietly, countered in confusion.
"But I'm an Altoin. How could I become a knight?"
"Libert's Old Faith dominant, so it's tough here. Other countries? Possible."
"Old Faith?"
"You don't know? Makes sense—folks in backwaters like this wouldn't spread it around."
Assuming his ignorance, Roden explained patiently.
Long ago, the west was ruled by the mighty Arman Empire.
Five hundred years back, it fell, splintering into five nations. The Faith split too: conservative Old Faith clinging to ancient doctrine, versus New Faith viewing Altoins not as demonic spawn but ordinary humans originating from an ancient magic empire.
"Plenty of other differences—priest marriage, magic regs... Anyway, point is, my home Pendia's mixed Old and New Faithful, so less discrimination than Old Faith Libert. Not none, but there, an Altoin with your sword skill has endless paths to rise. You could rack up merits and become the first Altoin lord."
Roden's words sounded too sweet, verging on fantasy.
Altoin lord? As mismatched as flying pigs or swimming birds...
Shan, who'd been branded demonic other-than-human, was dumbfounded.
Seeing it, Roden leaned across the fire and gripped Shan's shoulders firmly.
Shan knew a sudden chokehold could be fatal but didn't react right away.
"Come to Pendia with me, Shan. Is scraping by off farmers really what you want? With your talent, you could have so much more. Wealth and fame everyone respects—and maybe beyond that."
Wealth and fame meant little to Shan.
He'd never bartered properly or basked in praise.
But for the first time, he glimpsed a "future" in Roden's words.
Not mere survival—securing food and shelter—but aspiring beyond it...
The desire for positive change, to become a better self—that's what separated man from beast.
The boy who'd reveled in beastly freedom pondered the call to humanity.
Shan finally spoke as the bonfire dwindled to embers.
"Can I eat food even tastier than tonight's?"
Catching him off guard, Roden burst into laughter.
"Of course! Compared to Pendia's capital chefs, I'm nothing!"