The Hero's Path
The Hero's Path?
Raon stared at the message, eyes wide. The words made no sense, and the confusion left him reeling.
What is this supposed to—ah!
He was about to read it again when new lines unfurled before him.
The rank of your soul has risen.
All stats have increased.
A thunderbolt of sensation tore through his entire body. It felt as if lightning had punched through the crown of his skull and raced all the way to the soles of his feet. For a fleeting instant, his soul seemed to have climbed to a higher plane.
"Tsk. You really are a disgustingly lucky bastard."
Wrath glared at the messages, brow furrowed, his round face packed with irritation.
What is all this?
"Exactly what it says. Heroic karma has taken root in your soul."
Why?
"Words carry power. And when those words are a song, the power that seeps into them is stronger still. The pineapple girl's song was filled with your heroic deeds, and that power lifted the rank of your soul."
From just that?
"Of course it wasn't 'just that.'"
Wrath turned his head toward Yua, who was still singing.
"This King told you once before, did he not? That the pineapple girl has a gift for song. Her talent exceeds even what This King anticipated. Because that child composed a song about you and sang it before so many people, your martial deeds gained that power."
So then…
"Yes. The rank of your soul and your stats rose because that child sang of you. Be grateful."
Huh…
"The more heroic you become, and the farther that child's song spreads, the more your soul's rank, your stats, and your traits will surge."
That's insane.
Raon let out a dry laugh. He had sensed it from the moment her singing stirred people's emotions, but Yua's gift for song was a level beyond even the word genius. He had heard that the songs of a truly great bard carried a soul within them. He had never expected to experience it himself.
Yua finished the ballad of martial deeds to perfection and beamed.
"Yeeeeaaaah!"
"Yua! Uncle loves you so much it hurts!"
"Our Yua is wasted here! Send her out to the continent!"
"Yua! Yua! Yua!"
The soldiers who had heard her song surged to their feet in a standing ovation, roaring until the ground itself seemed to shake.
"Thank you!"
Yua bowed in three directions, stepped down from the platform, and came over to the table where Raon and Dorian were sitting.
"How was it?"
"Whoa! That was seriously amazing! I got chills! You're about on my level, honestly!"
Dorian blurted out something ridiculous and stuck up a proud thumb.
"What made you think of writing a song?"
"Grandpa always said we have to be grateful to the people who fight for this place."
Yua giggled and waved at the old man standing to her right — her grandfather, and the manager of Frost Branch.
"He said Sir Raon had a really hard time this round, so I made a song from everything I heard and saw!"
"I see."
Raon dropped to one knee so that his eyes met hers. Her round, rabbit-like pupils sparkled.
"Thank you. I heard every word. Truly."
"Yes!"
Yua's hair bounced as she hopped in place.
"Then later, at our restaurant…"
"You want me to come by and boost your sales, right?"
"Wow, you get it now."
"How could I not?"
Raon smiled, watching her hair flutter.
"Then you have to come later! Promise!"
Yua waved and ran to the manager, who had been waiting for her.
"Raon."
Wrath, who had been quiet until now, poked his head out of the bracelet.
What?
"When a person receives a kindness, they must repay it. That is the way of things."
He wasn't wrong. The fact that it was coming out of a self-proclaimed Demon King's mouth, however, left Raon with nothing useful to say.
"As This King sees it, you owe the pineapple girl a great debt."
He could already predict what was about to come tumbling out of that lump of frost.
"A debt is best repaid quickly. Today. Go to Frost Branch this instant and order every dish on the menu…"
Haa.
Raon shook his head as Wrath's eyes rolled greedily in their sockets.
"And you owe This King a debt as well. A very great one."
What debt?
"Did This King not bestow Glacia upon you!"
We already settled the price for that.
"You would dare call a pineapple pizza fair payment for a power that mighty?!"
How does he never, not even once, step outside what I expect?
Whether Wrath had won his throne in the Demon Realm by playing hopscotch, Raon would never know — the creature was utterly incapable of hiding what he wanted.
"It is not that This King cannot hide it. It is that This King does not. Demons are beings faithful to desire. When we speak of desire, we do not lie. This King, in particular, has not told a single falsehood since his days in the Demon Realm."
That much was true. Wrath might refuse to speak, but he did not lie. It was one of the reasons Raon still believed the little round thing was actually a king.
"If you understand, then let us go. Frost Branch has been packed for four days straight. Today it will be empty!"
Fine. Fine.
Raon let out a thin sigh. He had received help from both Wrath and Yua, so a modest repayment seemed fair. Honestly, settling it with food was getting off cheap.
"A wise decision!"
Wrath cackled and surged up over the bracelet.
"Where are you going?"
Dorian looked up as Raon rose from his seat.
"It's been a while. Thought I'd grab a meal at Frost Branch. You're coming too."
"Huh?"
Dorian didn't stand. He just tilted his head.
"What?"
"They've been open for four days. Today's a holiday. That's why Yua told you to come later."
"Ah. Is that so?"
Raon blinked and looked at Wrath, who had been dancing on top of the bracelet.
They're closed today.
"…What in the world is this."
Wrath raked frost-forged fingers across the table like a furious cat and howled.
"Have you all conspired to starve This King?! Why is it that every time This King tries to eat, something gets in the way!"
It's fate. Let's just go to the soldiers' mess.
Raon snorted a laugh and headed for the mess hall.
"Onion stew and dry bread, overcooked chicken and a sauce that tastes like nothing! Today's set meal is the worst of the worst!"
How do you even know the whole menu…
Wrath had memorized the soldiers' mess rotation, which changed every day. Whether that meant he hated it or loved it, Raon couldn't tell.
Weird little guy, no matter how you looked at it.
Cyan Gorge, said to be packed with savage, powerful monsters.
Like a shattered dam giving way, an enormous tide of beasts poured through the sheer walls of the canyon. On the far side of that flooding rush of monsters stood a wall of humans. Warriors of massive build, gripping double-headed axes and thick greatswords, stood in a single line and stared down the charge.
A magnificent horn blast rolled through the gorge, and the warriors raised their weapons.
"Charge! Kill them all!"
The giant of a middle-aged man at the very front hurled himself into the monster wave and brought down an axe the size of a man's torso.
The beast and the earth burst apart together, and the great war between humans and monsters began.
"Let's goooo!"
"Tear them apart!"
"Don't leave a single one standing!"
"Raaaaagh!"
The warriors wore savage smiles as they hacked and chopped. The dry gorge filled with blood, heat, and the raw thrill of battle.
On a battlefield where neither human nor monster was anywhere near ordinary, one swordswoman stood out.
A black-haired, black-eyed young woman of refined beauty tore through the field. Monsters were reduced to sprays of blood beneath sword strikes of overwhelming force, following a perfectly established combat form. She was the smallest person on that battlefield, and she radiated a courage greater than anyone else's. Her ferocity was such that the monsters flinched back first.
But the black-haired swordswoman seemed unsatisfied even with that. She never stopped moving, grinding monsters into pulp.
The battle that had begun at dawn lasted until evening, and the gorge filled with the corpses of warriors and beasts alike. Even veteran fighters should have been exhausted by then — yet the black-haired swordswoman cut throats and burst hearts with the same body mechanics she had used at the start. It was a savagery that looked like berserker magic, but her eyes were as clear as the light of a full moon.
"We won!"
"We won!"
"Yeeeeaaaah!"
In the end, the battle of the gorge closed on a human victory. The defeated monsters trampled the blood of their own kind as they fled back to their barren lands.
"Hah…"
Only then did the black-haired swordswoman still her blade and lift her head. Her sword had tasted more blood today than anyone else's, and the greatest pile of corpses lay at her feet.
"You were having quite the time of it, Marta."
A middle-aged man who looked to be the warriors' chieftain approached from behind as she caught her breath.
"That was a presence of supremacy even I found satisfying. Planning to catch up to your family head, are you?"
He hooked his blood-soaked axe over his shoulder and laughed, open and easy. This was Beruan — lord of Kamain Castle, which ruled Cyan Gorge, and the man called its strongest warrior.
"I have to. But there's a mountain I need to climb first."
Marta flicked the blood from her sword, her face twisting.
"A mountain to climb?"
"A ridiculously goddamn high one."
"There's someone your age who's surpassed you?"
Beruan's eyes went wide. Marta had already been pulling her own weight from the day she arrived. He had wondered why she trained as if her life depended on it. So she had a rival.
"I've lost three times. No — four."
Marta muttered that after that she had just run away, so she had nothing more to say about it.
"Don't worry."
Beruan grinned and clapped her on the shoulder.
"Since you came here, you've fought more battles than anyone and tempered both body and mind. Whoever that child is, they're below you now."
"No."
Marta shook her head, firm.
"That bastard is the first real one I've ever met. Not the fakes they call geniuses and prodigies — a genuine monster. Even if I trained several times harder than I do now, I still wouldn't catch him."
"That much?"
Beruan narrowed his eyes. Marta's talent sat above even his own son's. He found himself curious about the child who had given a genius of this caliber a sense of defeat.
"I can feel it on my skin."
Marta clenched a goosebumped arm.
"The breathing of that damn bastard, getting stronger even now."
She had trained with everything she had, and still she could not picture herself beating Raon. She wanted to crush him outright, erase the promise that she would take his orders — but she could not even imagine winning. And her true enemy, the White Blood Cult, was incomparably stronger than Raon besides. The idea of tearing down the White Blood Cult and finding her mother when she couldn't even beat him was absurd.
"What's the boy's name?"
Marta looked at the surprise in Beruan's eyes, then turned. She spread an aura barrier so no one else would hear, and opened her mouth slowly.
"Raon. Raon Zieghart."
She clenched her fist tight and went on.
"The benefactor I owe my life to — and the man I have to beat."
"That's not the only reason, is it."
Beruan chuckled.
"Fine. For the time you have left, I will train you myself."
"What? Why so suddenly…"
"In exchange, bring it to me."
He drove the axe on his shoulder into the earth and lifted his chin.
"A victory report that says you beat that Raon."
In the continent's northwest lies a desert called Lewin.
It is an unusual place, paved in white sand, and is sometimes called White Sands instead of Lewin. Sand being white does not make a desert any less a desert — but the land is unexpectedly rich in resources, a strange region where people and monsters coexist.
At the desert's edge, a small village had been raised. It had not always been there. The Maiko Merchant Group, one of the continent's six great trading houses, had built it as a temporary camp for their Lewin Desert development project.
In that village, a sharp-faced young man with blue hair was rushing about.
"Burren! Come over here!"
"Burren! Something's off over here!"
"Hey! Burren!"
The people in the village called the young man's name and waved him over.
"Ah, would you stop calling me! You can handle this yourselves!"
The blue-haired youth called Burren scowled and stamped his foot. Even as he snapped, he went right, packed down the earth, went left, raised a pillar, and helped with every last task.
"Burren! A Sand Scorpion showed up! Get over here, now!"
"Damn it! Why is it always me!"
Burren snarled as if he had no intention of going, then set down the pillar he had been lifting and sprinted for the village entrance. Complaints poured from his mouth. He still helped with every request.
"Hmm."
A man of scholarly looks, wearing a monocle, watched Burren run out of the village and clicked his tongue.
"Not what I expected. Entirely different from first impressions."
"That's all thanks to the Guildmaster's teaching, is it not?"
An old merchant with a turban wrapped around his head smiled.
"Teaching? I haven't done a thing for that boy."
Reniton, current head of the Maiko Merchant Group, lowered his eyelids. Burren had been a child burning with drive from the day he arrived. Fighting monsters or helping the development work by day, personal training by night — it had already been more than half a year. It was a pace no ordinary person could endure, which meant Burren's heart was packed full of the hunger to grow stronger.
"He's a remarkable young man. His temper seems prickly, but he's warm underneath, and his martial skill is far beyond what you'd expect of a sixteen-year-old. Ah!"
The old man clapped his hands as if something had just occurred to him.
"Come to think of it, have you heard about the incident at Habun Castle?"
"The story of a swordsman around Burren's age who held a collapsed wall alone?"
"That's the one. But something even bigger happened after that."
"Bigger?"
"Yes. Eden attacked, leading an Ice Troll Lord. And they did it when Milland and Habun Castle's elites were away. A blond swordsman held them off alone…"
The old man told Reniton everything that had happened at Habun Castle a few months prior.
"That sounds like a lie."
"I thought so too, but it appears to be real. Every soldier at Habun Castle saw it."
"Hmm. In that case…"
Reniton pointed at Burren, who was returning to the village, and wore a sly smile.
"Go tell that boy the whole story."
"Pardon? Why, all of a sudden?"
"I want to see how he reacts."
"Ah. I see. Understood."
The old man seemed to grasp the meaning. He approached Burren and laid out the same tale of Habun Castle he had given Reniton.
"That damn bastard!"
Burren's green eyes glittered like grains of desert sand.
"I knew it! He really can't sit still, can he!"
He trembled, fists clenched, a smile of something like joy on his face.
"Is that child the goal you said you would catch?"
Reniton had come up without Burren noticing, and now stood in front of him.
"Yes."
"And his name?"
"Raon."
"He sounds strong."
"He is. From the sound of it, he's even stronger now than he was before."
"Then why do you look happy?"
Reniton narrowed his eyes at the smile filling Burren's face.
"If the opponent you've set as your goal has grown stronger, shouldn't you be angry? Or in despair?"
"No. He's strong, and he's going to get stronger — that's what makes catching him worth it."
Burren shook his head, unyielding. His eyes, vivid as emeralds, flashed.
"If Raon stopped getting stronger, my goal would stop there too. The higher he climbs, the farther I can go with him."
"Is that so."
The corners of Reniton's mouth curved up. He looked at Burren with a pleased smile.
"Well, honestly, I learned even that from him."
"I'd like to meet this Raon."
"You'd be impressed. Guaranteed."
"Though I find myself more drawn to you."
"Pardon?"
"A fellow who genuinely knows his own shortcomings and still elevates his rival is rare. If I were investing, I would have invested in you."
"Ah…"
Burren's eyes went wide at the unexpected words.
"You two seem quite close, though. Rivals who are also friends — that's interesting."
"Cl—close?! Absolutely not! He's just an enemy!"
"Doesn't look that way to me. That was a smile you can only wear for someone you're close to."
Reniton grinned and lifted his chin.
"I said no!"
Burren bellowed.
"I have no intention of getting friendly with a guy like that!"
A yellow-tinged jungle, filled with the discordant cries of insects, reptiles, and monsters.
A violet-eyed swordswoman with silver hair bound tightly back was running through a jungle twisted like a coiled snake. Her features looked noble, but her movement was so natural it seemed to melt into the jungle itself.
As she tried to cross a swamp, a dark-attribute monster with the form of a crocodile — a Crocodark — erupted from below and snapped its jaws wide.
She drew the sword at her waist and swung as if she had known it was coming. Silver frost unfurled from the blade, skimmed the ground, and froze both the monster and the swamp solid.
The beasts rising after it froze in place halfway up.
The silver-haired swordswoman watched the monsters climbing one by one onto the swamp and stamped a true step. The earth boomed, and from the point her foot struck, silver frost spread and froze everything around her.
She spun in midair and began to run across the frozen swamp. Small birds and insects swarmed overhead like a hive, but her breath, pouring out cold, drove them all back before they could close in.
She ran in a straight line until the village came into view — and a martial artist appeared in front of her, wearing a wooden mask mottled brown and red, spear and shield in hand.
The martial artist thrust a spear packed with crimson aura. As the overwhelming spear-strike shot toward her entire body, a wind of frost whirled over the blade in the silver-haired swordswoman's hand.
Silver frost spread in concentric rings and froze everything around her, the martial artist included.
The masked fighter could not move, arms and legs locked in ice, and could only groan.
The silver-haired swordswoman gave him a small nod and entered the village he had been guarding.
"Wooooaaaah!"
"She broke through the jungle in under six hours!"
"You're first, Runaan!"
"Even among the adults, a record like that is rare!"
"Not adults — you'd have to be war-chief level or you couldn't do it at all!"
"Runaan! That was incredible!"
The people at the village entrance did not attack. They surrounded the silver-haired swordswoman and cheered.
"Thank you."
Runaan bowed to the villagers, her expression as flat as ever.
"At this level, the future looks even better."
"Right? Has there ever been a kid with this kind of power at sixteen? Probably only our chieftain."
The people smiled, saying Runaan would become the greatest woman of her generation.
"There is."
"Hm?"
"Someone much stronger than me."
Runaan, rarely, cut into the conversation.
"M-much stronger?"
"Than you?"
Runaan nodded.
"Then did you come here to beat that child?"
A tall red-haired woman approached Runaan's side. A wooden mask hid her face, but the presence leaking from her was as vast as the sea.
"No."
"No? Then?"
"I want to become strong enough to help from his side."
Runaan let the words fall exactly as she used to say them, over and over, back at the house.
"Is that so."
The masked woman chuckled and slapped Runaan's back, hard.
"Having a goal, whatever it is, is a good thing. But your talent can look farther than that. Don't stare only at what's in front of you."
She said that, then waited for the next jungle-crossing examinee after Runaan.
"Mm."
Runaan watched the back of Ray — chieftain of this tribe, a warrior who had reached Master — and climbed a tree right by the entrance.
It's been a while. Maybe I should have some.
She had completed the jungle crossing, which could be called the trial of Katam Jungle. A little luxury felt earned. Bead Ice Cream, after so long.
But there's not much left now.
She was kicking her feet in the air, turning it over, when a young man's voice drifted up from beside her. It was Ramim, the one who had first guided her here.
"Whoa, where'd you come in from?"
A cry sounded behind Ramim. A crow.
"Huh? Why's this thing stuck to me? You like me or something?"
The cheerful noise of Ramim playing with a jungle crow that had wandered into the village drifted up — they seemed to have taken a liking to each other.
"Alright! I'll raise you, big decision. First we need a name!"
Ramim smacked his lips, then clapped.
"Raon! You're pitch-black like a shadow, so Raon fits!"
The instant she heard the name Raon, Runaan dropped from the tree.
She went toward the voice and found Ramim face-to-face with a jungle crow whose feathers were tangled like vines.
"Runaan? Weren't you in the middle of the trial?"
"It's over."
Runaan answered lightly, then stared hard at the crow.
The crow cocked its head as if to ask why she was looking, and cawed.
"Hmph."
Runaan held a staring contest with the crow, then turned her head to Ramim.
"Hiek!"
Runaan's gaze, heavier than usual, made Ramim step backward.
"W-what's going on. If I did something wrong…"
"What's this one's name?"
Runaan pointed at the crow fidgeting behind him.
"R-Raon, but…"
"Change the name."
"No, I already called it Raon…"
"Change the name."
"It's black as a shadow. Kids who are black often get named Raon…"
"Change the name."
Her violet eyes narrowed until they were frightening.
"Why so suddenly…"
"Change the name."
Under Runaan's steadily rising pressure, the young man's pupils trembled.
What's wrong with her!
Four months had passed since the war with Eden ended.
Whether because so many monsters had died in the Wave and then in the war against the Lord, nothing so much as lingered near the castle anymore. Patrols went out steadily, but no gatherings of monsters were found, and nothing unusual turned up. Habun Castle was spending days of unprecedented peace.
The one who had made that peace, however, was busier than anyone else. The reason, of course, was training.
The moment the arm he had injured recovered at a speed worthy of a troll, Raon planted himself in the training hall and swung his sword from dawn to dusk.
"Hah…"
Today, too, he had trained the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and his swordsmanship until the moon rose. Raon pushed himself up and let out a murky breath.
It's not working.
He had been trying to recreate the swordsmanship of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames that the blond swordsman had used in the battle against the Orc Lord — the clash he had seen when he touched the gem of the White Soul Armor. It was difficult. The swordsman's realm and the level of his aura sat far above Raon's own.
Well. That Orc Lord was terrifyingly strong too.
The Orc Lord who had faced the blond swordsman had carried not the presence of a monster, but of a martial artist who had stepped beyond Master. Neither of them was someone Raon could face as he was now.
Still. I keep going.
In his previous life and this one, he had lived without knowing the word quit. If he kept training the sword and tempering his body, that realm would open its door someday.
"Sir Raon!"
He was about to swing again when the training hall door opened and Dorian's face popped through.
"It's time for night watch."
"Ah."
Raon looked at the moon and let out a breath edged with regret. Time for duty.
"Right. Let's go."
He sheathed his sword and followed Dorian toward the walls.
"Young master, what do you even think about, repeating the same sword forms over and over?"
"Think? I just do it."
"Hahk!"
It had been an ordinary answer, and Dorian's mouth still fell open.
"You say you 'just do it' and it really does sound like you're from another world. Ugh. I couldn't."
He muttered that he couldn't take it, pulled herbal juice from his Belly Pouch, and drank.
"Want one?"
"I'm fine."
Raon waved it off and climbed onto the wall. The night was cloudless, the moon clear. He could even see the white mist wrapping Sterin Mountain in the distance.
Nice night.
Tonight's watch would at least have a view. He circulated Glacia.
There was no reason to waste a watch. Standing still and scanning the surroundings made it the perfect time to expand the Sea of Senses.
That aside.
Raon observed the area through the Sea of Senses and glanced at Wrath, hanging from his wrist.
He's been quiet lately.
Except for the tantrums about going to Frost Branch to eat, the little creature had been strangely calm of late.
I wish he'd pick a fight.
Betting against Wrath or fighting him was an easy way to raise stats. Raon found himself missing the creature's needling.
He was clicking his tongue over it when Wrath rose from the flower bracelet like smoke. The round thing stared for a long moment toward the peak of distant Sterin Mountain, then turned his head.
"Raon Zieghart. This King has something to say."
You can't eat right now. I'm on duty.
"It is not that! Do you take This King for a glutton?!"
You aren't?
"Kkngh! You really are— huu."
Wrath ground his teeth. He glared with narrowed eyes, then let out a sigh.
Then what is it?
"It has been a while. Let us make a wager, you and This King."
A wager?
A wager.
They said the hardest part of a con for a crooked gambler was getting the mark to sit at the table. This was no different from the mark walking over and sitting down on his own.
A red heat kindled in Raon's eyes.
Sucker Wrath, again?