Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Secular Return - 5
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"No way!"
Celia shouted, flailing her arms wildly. Nerwen harbored doubts about her words as well.
"Elenor. Even if those words aren't outright lies, they hold not a shred of truth."
The Emperor looked at her with eyes full of pity.
"I know how grueling your training was. I know how earnestly you took your duties. No matter how harsh that training was, it couldn't compare to what you put him through."
But Elenor's senses told her he wasn't trying to embrace her—he was scolding her.
"But back then, you had already awakened to mana, undergone at least basic training, and prepared for cultivation with the finest foods and the most comfortable beds."
Her passion and sacrifice couldn't be denied. But forcing that on someone else? That was madness.
"Reinhardt is, as far as I know, the finest swordmaster there is. He wouldn't have gone there with a wooden sword, so what touched his body must have been a holy sword."
Elenor bowed her head silently. Her words offered no excuse.
"Tell me, Elenor. When you taught him, did you really hold back even a speck of emotion?"
"I held no anger at all. But..."
Elenor struggled to recall that training. His crumpled expression, ragged breaths, and bruised arms flashed vividly in her mind.
"If it was impatience... then yes, it was there."
If he couldn't even endure this much now, he'd die in the next fight.
She hadn't forced training on him from the start. But on the Hero's party's journey, the rear was never a safe position.
Goblin assassins who would normally lie in wait, or packs of wild dogs infused with magic—they all swarmed toward him, the one who seemed easiest.
She could still see him writhing in pain as they bit his arm. Celia had healed it right away, but if they'd bitten his throat instead, it would've been instant death.
He had begged for training first, but even when he wanted to stop, she refused.
Because it felt like he would die. Because one day, after a battle, when she turned around, someone would be dead.
"But... I had to."
She, who always charged at the front, had no time to look back. She could only face forward, slashing and felling enemies without doubt.
Sometimes, even in nightmares. Nightmares where, after she defeated all the foes, four corpses lay scattered behind her in gruesome disarray.
At least the other party members joined the fights. Amid battle, she could feel Nerwen's arrows, Celia's holy spells, and Pashier's occasional bursts of magic.
But she couldn't sense him. In the heat of combat, there was no way to track one ordinary man's life or death.
And if that nightmare became even partially real, it was obvious who the weakest link would be.
Her anxiety and impatience rode straight onto her sword, beating him mercilessly.
"You had to. You had to! How long must I keep hearing that? Aren't you four just parroting the same line like parrots?"
The Emperor, his worries deepening, glanced around at the others.
"That can't be all. He couldn't have broken down over just that!"
The Emperor's eyes met Nerwen's. She stared back with cold, bored eyes.
"You're probably the elf who served as guide. Tell me about the travel plans."
"It has nothing to do with me. We followed Pashier's plan."
"Tch..."
Pashier gritted her teeth.
"It was necessary. It was what the leader—the Hero—wanted, and what we all agreed on."
Even he had agreed to this plan. Perhaps that's why he'd swallowed his massive rage deep inside.
"As quickly as possible."
She opened a sub-space portal and handed him a book. It was worn and rough, but sufficient to read.
"...A journal."
The Emperor took it and began flipping through the pages right there on the spot.
"Yes. This is far more accurate. The reports I get are limited. They're not clear, and mostly focused on victories anyway."
Reports of conquering the next dungeon at absurd speeds, tales of saving villages by crushing monster hordes along the way, stories of dragging weary bodies to hunt more foes.
Naturally, he'd assumed their relationships were fine. Hero parties had conflicts sometimes, but nothing major—and certainly not enough to slow such feats and pace.
The Emperor breezed through the early parts smoothly, but as the records reached the middle, his face gradually hardened. Pages took longer to turn, and his expression darkened.
"This... insane... You're all mad. I misjudged you all. Every one of you here is insane."
The Emperor ground his teeth and glared at each of the women.
"You conquered the Demon King on this deranged schedule?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "You'd better not get cocky for no reason."
As I was about to head back in a good mood after receiving the promised pay, a man grabbed my shoulder.
"...Why are you putting your hand on someone else's shoulder?"
Arrogance oozed from the wrinkles between his facial features. It might be prejudice, but old adventurers didn't leave a good impression in my mind.
To be precise, there was no middle ground.
The passionate ones had endless poise and power through skill, training, experience, and magic tools. The middling ones just quit after scraping together decent money and moved on to other work.
If they had connections in the guild, they might become branch managers. Some became blacksmiths, herbalists, or rarely farmers—but most stepped away from frontline fighting.
Those who remained, excluding the two extremes, were mostly leeches. Talented enough in cunning and meanness to avoid death, but they squandered their momentary luck on gambling, women, and booze before taking the next commission.
But flesh is finite; you can't earn the same money forever doing the same thing. They had to patch their declining income with petty tricks and sleaze.
"Hey, boss. Don't be too harsh. What does a guy who just brought in goblin ears yesterday know?"
A middle-aged adventurer with a spear tried to calm him, then sidled up like we were buddies.
"You're a newbie, so you might not know, but that kind of thing requires extra pay."
"Why?"
"It's an unwritten rule. Guys who want that 'voluntary help' pay an extra 20% per head. That soldier skimped on the money—if we help, it'll spoil him, right?"
I could understand it. Adventurers and employers were never on good terms.
"You're not gonna work here forever, are you? If we get in danger, you think those guys would save us? Unless the front line collapses, they won't give a damn."
He was probably right. But from my position, it didn't resonate.
I didn't know how long I'd adventure, but even if it dragged on, I wouldn't waver over a few coins like that.
The lives of a few soldiers who might die any moment were worth more than the pennies they wouldn't get.
"Ah, sure."
That said, I didn't want to fight right now. Swordplay is labor, fists are labor. No reason to get dragged into nonsense.
"You little shit, that's no way to talk to your elders! When a seasoned senior gives life advice, you at least pretend to listen!"
The old adventurer I'd tuned out drew his sword. Adventurers lounging in the guild hall erupted in excited cheers.
"Wait, is this the usual vibe here?"
"Insolent punk. Your swordplay looked decent, but rude bastards like you need a good lesson!"
The sudden uproar made my head spin.
Fine, strangers might act like this, but the ones I'd partied with before shouldn't.
"Didn't you see me fight?"
I'd cut down those orcs so easily, but apparently, it wasn't that impressive to them.
"Looks like you haven't even learned proper swordsmanship. Probably some noble brat relying on a bit of mana to act tough."
"Well... that's not entirely wrong."
The crowd naturally assumed the old man would win.
Were they using poison? Mass hypnosis or something?
"If you were really skilled, you'd be in a famous party by now, or hired by the Princess."
"Acting all high and mighty like a damn rookie... Teach him a lesson!"
-Yeah! Teach him a lesson!
"No, you can't say that."
I covered my mouth slightly and whispered back to the Holy Sword that had slyly chimed in.
-The subject and object are different! Read the room!
"Jeez... Anyway, sorry about that."
I tried to apologize to the middle-aged man, but the old guy barged in, yelling.
"Who are you apologizing to?!"
It didn't make logical sense, and dragging this out would just tire me more.
"Ah, sorry."
I drew my sword. A light hit wouldn't kill him, so this would save time and let me sleep comfortably.
"Come at me. You said you'd teach me a lesson, right?"