The World Is Not Equal
The status window floated before my eyes, its cold blue letters mocking everything I thought I knew.
Rune of Immortality [SSS]
◎ Recovers from all wounds and diseases.
◎ Never dies under any circumstances.
◎ Nullifies all forms of physical mutilation and mental attacks.
There is no free lunch in the world [SSS]
◎ Amplifies all party members' stats — HP, MP, attack power, defense, and more.
◎ Transfers all EXP gained by the user to party members.
◎ All transferred EXP and amplified stats reset when the buff is removed.
◎ The buff is automatically removed if the user leaves the party.
◎ Revealing the skill's contents or conditions to party members will cancel the buff.
“This… is fucking ridiculous…”
I rubbed my eyes again and again. I kept reopening the status window, checking and rechecking. I simply couldn’t believe it. The fact that skills beyond SS-rank even existed in this world.
Back during the last great war, after we’d won and everyone was in high spirits, Lord Protector Zero got unusually drunk and started bragging to his subordinates without restraint. Atlas happened to be there that night.
Zero asked, “Who’s the strongest person in the world?”
One of the soldiers probably answered, “Wouldn’t it be the monarch of Lydorphia? It’s the only empire among the seven great powers, and they even use the title of Emperor.”
“No, no. I’m not asking in a political sense. I mean in a pure one-on-one fight—who’s the strongest?”
“…Is it you, Lord Protector?”
“Hahaha. I’m not exactly weak. It’s embarrassing to say myself, but even if you searched the entire world, there probably aren’t even ten people stronger than me. Still, I can’t exactly call myself the strongest.”
A handsome young man who still had the softness of youth carefully spoke up. “Then is it His Holiness the Pope? You said you weren’t asking in a political sense, but the Pope isn’t a hereditary position. He’s elected based on a comprehensive evaluation of magical power, popularity, morality, faith, and combat ability. In that sense, wouldn’t the Pope—who wields both personal martial prowess and influence over believers worldwide—be the strongest?”
Zero snorted as he downed another glass of wine. “And who are you, kid?”
“Yes! I am Alex, second son of Duke Bourbon.”
“Oho… so you’re that duke’s son. No wonder you seem sharp. Your father is an impressive man—a duke who has also reached the rank of archmage. While we’re at it, let me give you all a simple explanation of the mage hierarchy. I’ll keep it so even idiots can understand. These are things worth knowing as common sense.”
Zero waved his finger through the air, and letters began to appear.
Apprentice → Low → Mid → High → Archmage → Sage → Grand Sage
“The further right you go, the higher the prestige and the stronger the power. So what’s the decisive factor that separates mage classes? Obviously, it’s how strong and difficult the magic you can use is. Most mages who graduate from the academy dream of eventually becoming an archmage. There’s a limited number of sage positions, after all. Anyway, even becoming an archmage lets you get invited as a chief advisor to a great nation or be treated as an apostle by the church. You’d rise to a position of considerable power across the Pangaea continent. So what criteria must you meet to become an archmage?”
No one knew the exact answer, so everyone stayed silent. At the time, Atlas thought of his grandfather—who had earned the title of sage beyond archmage—and listened carefully.
“Possess at least one S-rank skill, or ten or more A-rank skills. If you achieve either, the Magic Tower will grant you the title of archmage. Right now, they say there are thirty-seven archmages across the entire Pangaea continent. Some might be hiding their power, but officially, only thirty-seven meet the criteria. And of those thirty-seven, over ninety percent earned the title with ten or more A-rank skills. In other words, there are fewer than five people on the entire continent who possess even a single S-rank skill. Personally, I believe one S-rank skill is far more powerful and useful than ten A-rank skills. Any archmage who passed the test with an S-rank skill is a top candidate for the next sage position.”
According to Zero, anyone could learn up to B-rank skills through effort, but from A-rank onward, talent was absolutely required. And S-rank skills were in the realm of natural disasters—beyond what could be considered human power.
“But here’s the thing. They say there are even SS-rank skills that surpass S-rank. My master, the sage Georg Zioberk, spent his entire life trying to master an SS-rank skill. When he realized normal methods wouldn’t work, he crossed over to the Demon Continent, slaughtered ten thousand demons as training, and eventually got caught by the Demon King and was brutally killed. He failed in the end, but if you look through human history, there have definitely been archmages who used SS-rank skills. I don’t know if anyone like that exists in this era… but the stronger someone is, the more they tend to hide their power.”
At that moment, Zero looked at Atlas with deep, envious eyes, as if he coveted the status window that could see through hidden strength.
“Remember this, Atlas. If someone possesses an SS-rank skill, that person is the strongest in the world. I dream of one day reaching that level myself.”
“U-um…”
It would have been better if the conversation had ended there. I don’t know why I asked. But Atlas, as if sucked into a hole, found his mouth moving on its own.
“What if there’s a skill even higher than SS-rank? For example… something like SSS-rank…”
“What?”
Even though Zero had clearly explained that SS-rank skills were already in the realm of legend, Atlas had taken it one step further. Anyone would have called the question stupid and childish. But Zero didn’t dismiss his subordinate’s doubt. He thought about it quite seriously before answering.
“Well… if someone like that existed, wouldn’t they rule the world? An emperor would be nothing to them. With that kind of power… But Atlas. SS-rank is one thing, but SSS-rank absolutely doesn’t exist. It simply doesn’t…”
—It did.
And there were two of them.
No matter how many times I rubbed my eyes, no matter how much I suspected the status window was broken, malfunctioning, or glitching, the undeniable reality was right here in front of me.
Atlas turned toward the carriage that had just entered the base camp and asked,
“W-who the hell are you?”
“…Ha? Who the hell are you? I don’t sense any decent mana from you.”
“But I can feel an insane amount of power coming from you! You! Who exactly are you?”
“I don’t have any official title, but would it help if I said I used to work as the porter for the hero party? Though I consider that a dark part of my past now.”
The hero party’s porter—
Atlas had no talent for magic. He admitted that himself. At fifteen, he had applied to the academy. Thanks to his family’s influence, they would have let him in, but he was told he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the classes and would only regret it. So he immediately gave up on the path of a mage.
But he was quick to assess situations. He switched his focus to the civil service exam at the academy and passed it in just two years. He had a good head on his shoulders.
His mind was rapidly piecing together the limited information he had been given.
The hero party’s porter.
The unbelievable achievements the hero party had racked up until now.
The pathetic state of the actual hero party that didn’t match those results at all.
And the effect of the SSS-rank skill There is no free lunch in the world.
When all that data was combined, only one truth emerged.
“Werther, you son of a bitch!! What the hell are you doing here?! You traitor to humanity!!”
“Oh, Leonhart. I’m seriously regretting coming here too. I should’ve taken my time and camped somewhere. If I had, I could’ve enjoyed a pleasant morning walk while admiring your corpse tomorrow.”
“You fucking bastard… You have no idea how much I’ve hated you. I’ve been waiting for the day I could get my revenge… Ah! That’s right!”
Leonhart suddenly looked like he’d had a brilliant idea. He turned to his comrades—the same ones he had tried to sacrifice to the demons just moments ago—with an innocent expression.
“What if we just say this loss was all because of that traitor? That the traitor sold information to the demons and we had no choice but to lose. Don’t you think His Majesty and public opinion would understand us then?”
“……………………….”
“Leonhart. Before that, how exactly are we supposed to get out of here alive?”
“Werther… You finally came. Ah, I’ve missed you so much!”
“I agree, my lord. We must survive no matter what. Even if it’s just us!”
Teresa remained silent with a worried face. Cynthia let out a sigh as if she found the whole thing pathetic. Sharon didn’t seem to hear a single word Leonhart said; she simply smiled brightly at Werther. Only Jeanne actively supported Leonhart’s suggestion.
“Wait, hold on. In a way, the party has finally returned to normal, hasn’t it? That meat-shield bastard Werther is back. Maybe we can actually survive this!!”
Leonhart’s eyes sparkled like a boy’s as he spoke.
“So here’s the plan! We use that bastard as a meat shield, have Werther buy us time, and we run for it!”
“As expected of my lord! You are truly brilliant! That way we can survive! That’s the correct answer!”
Jeanne agreed with tears almost streaming down her face. The rest of the members showed subtle reactions. Cynthia was the only one with enough courage to ask,
“Werther. What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.”
“…Don’t tell me you came to save us?”
“As if. I’m actually debating whether to team up with those demon king forces over there, wipe you all out, and then go take care of my personal business.”
“…………If we want to survive those demons, we need to work together—”
“—The lord already explained exactly how we’re supposed to work together, Cynthia! If the hero says they’re the enemy, then they’re the enemy! If he says they’re bait, then they’re bait!”
Jeanne drew her arming sword and pointed it at Werther’s throat. In this moment, the knight who had returned to her valiant self gave an order to the former porter.
“Did you hear that, Werther? Be a good meat shield like you used to and help us.”
“…Looks like you didn’t listen to my warning after all. I told you not to do anything you’d regret.”
“I’m desperately trying not to have any regrets. I will never go back to being called a loser like I was in the past. To make sure that doesn’t happen, I’ll do anything to stay in the hero party—even play the role of Leonhart’s lackey. I’m not an idiot like you. I know better than anyone which side I need to stick to.”
“I believe it is quite the opposite, Lady Knight.”
Atlas, who had been watching, finally cut in. Jeanne turned to him with eyes as cold as ice.
“What do you mean by that?”
“The person you should be trying to impress is Werther. If he abandons you, you will lose all your power and fall into ruin.”
“Ha?”
“I will now tell you everything I saw through my status window.”
Atlas finally revealed to the party the truth about the buffs that Werther himself could never have told them. After hearing the entire story, Jeanne’s face went deathly pale. The arming sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground.