Voices from the Armory

After finishing my first training, my gaze drifted of its own accord to the other weapons still lining the training grounds.

No, this is no place to stop.

Without a moment's hesitation, I set off toward the family armory.

"Ian! So you've finally finished your training?"

"Yes, brother."

"I was worried you'd start seeing hallucinations from overtraining. Go in and rest already—"

"Brother, I'd like to try wielding some other swords. Would that be all right?"

At those words, Kain's expression changed.

"Planning to push yourself again? You only just came out of your room after a year. You need to be all the more careful with your training—"

"I have my coming-of-age ceremony coming up soon, and I've had plenty of rest besides. I started late, so shouldn't I work that much harder?"

"I had no idea……"

My brother stared at me as if the words had caught in his throat, the rims of his eyes reddening.

"I didn't know that was how you'd been thinking. I'm proud of you. Still, don't overdo it—the strain will tell on your body. Rest when you need to."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Yes. I don't intend to train more right now."

With Kain looking at me with such moved eyes, I couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed.

And so I made my way to the family armory and took up a weapon straight away.

The message appeared each time I ran my hand over one well-made weapon after another.

Just as I thought.

The earlier phrase came back to me—how covenants could only be formed according to standing.

And my current standing was Trainee.

Which meant the next step was……

That's the martial rank system from Last Savior, isn't it.

Seeing the word "Trainee" had struck me as familiar, but now that I saw it laid out like this, there was no doubt. The path beyond Sword Master remained unmarked, too.

So my standing is, in effect, my level itself.

Which meant that at Trainee rank, the only thing I could form a covenant with was, at best, a wooden practice sword.

It's speculation, but still.

Either way, for now it seemed I had to grow stronger through repetitive training rather than by acquiring high-quality weapons.

And that much, I was more confident about than anyone.

"Brother, I'd like to devote myself to training for a while."

"Very well. If you need anything, just say the word. Only—please, don't push yourself too hard."

"Then, may I use various different weapons?"

"What a thing to ask! Use whatever you like. If you want, even the sword Father left for me—"

"No, no. This much is more than enough for now."

I set off again, this time toward the training grounds where the soldiers trained.

The moment my feet touched the ground, I heard the voices of the weapons clamoring toward me.

A bundle of skills, all begging to be used. Just looking at them made my mouth water.

How could anyone sit still with this in front of them?

Heh heh. Smiling, I began gripping the swords with trembling hands.

"Is that… Young Master Ian……?"

"He seems to be… somewhere else entirely……"

Even as the soldiers murmured to one another, exchanging glances, not a trace of the smile left my lips.

I will break it.

I would see that damned true ending.

And I would survive—no matter what.

With my mind made up, I took hold of a sword once more.

From the moment I gained Covenant, I trained without pause.

The first skill I ever acquired—Northern Swordsmanship. Its contents were strikingly simple.

Details like this confirm it—this really is the game.

Simple, intuitive descriptions. And yet, of every foundational swordsmanship in the game, Northern Swordsmanship was the sturdiest of them all. It might be F-rank now, but at C-rank it became a style few swordsmen of equal standing could break through.

Of course, the lore says it's that much harder to master… but that handicap means nothing to me.

The reason was simple. As I completed one covenant after another, I came to a new realization.

Not every covenant grants a skill.

Well, fair enough. Items that don't even warrant a proper grade weren't going to keep handing out skills.

The grades were divided into Normal, Rare, Epic, Legendary, and Mythic. And the "–" rank meant it fell short of even Normal.

But completing a covenant raised a skill's proficiency. And as a low-rank skill's proficiency climbed, all sorts of bonus effects were attached to it. Normally, that took repeated training, formal instruction, and a genuine breakthrough of understanding—a massive advantage, then.

"In other words…"

Grinding away at mindless repetition alone was enough to raise proficiency.

Proficiency. My proficiency is going up!

With that single thought driving me back to the training grounds day after day, the reactions around me began to change as well.

"He's really been working hard lately."

"Who'd have thought he'd collapse this far."

The biggest change was in the eyes around me. I could see it in the soldiers and the servants—their gazes were different now. The soldiers especially. Some of them had quietly started betting on when I would give up.

Well, I couldn't blame them. Even a baron of the northern frontier was still nobility. And until a few days ago, I'd been a shut-in sealed inside my own room.

But as they watched me train steadily for days on end, they'd warmed enough to actually talk to me.

"Young Master Ian, training again today?"

"Want to run a lap together?"

"Mind if I join you?"

I'd grown quite close with the soldiers who shared the training grounds, in particular. Whether my diligence had kindled something in them, a few of the more ambitious ones had begun showing real drive of their own.

"Whew……"

And the other change, of course, was my body.

B running. Strength training. Day after day of working through the lists the covenants gave me, and I could gradually feel power and stamina settling into my frame. Muscle had filled out my once-gaunt body, and even by my own eyes, I cut a decent figure now.

My hands have come along nicely too.

The palms that used to split open every time I swung a sword had quietly hardened over with calluses.

"Ian, take a breather."

"Brother."

Kain had appeared at my side at some point, holding out a towel. But before I could take up my sword again, worn down as he looked by his endless duties—

"You're quite the man now. About time you started looking for a matchmaker."

"I'll consider it once you've married first, brother."

"Ahem. I'm already wed to this territory, so I'm exempt."

"I hear you're quite popular, though. Why not lead the way?"

"……"

A short laugh followed. Even after handing me the towel, he kept looking at me—pride warring with something else in his eyes, as if there were something he wanted to say.

"You seem tired, brother."

"…No. It's a burden I ought to carry."

As he kept studying me, I slowly lowered my sword.

"Was there something you wished to say?"

"No, it's just… I find myself wondering what brought about this sudden change."

"I told you last time, didn't I?"

"I know, I know you've turned over a new leaf. I'm asking why—why so suddenly."

He hadn't taken his eyes off me, and his question was spoken in earnest. I gave a shrug and slowly traced my way back through Ian Rashid's memories. His experiences and his memories had already become one with mine.

"…There's something I need to see through to the end."

"See through to the end? What happened? Why wouldn't you tell me—"

"It's nothing like that. I simply found myself curious about where your future leads, brother—and about what this growing territory might become."

Ian Rashid had been young.

Orphaned at a tender age, he'd watched the elder brother he was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠close to become head of the family.

So he never truly applied himself.

He hadn't tried hard at anything. He simply lived moderately, keeping himself comfortably ordinary.

But I couldn't afford that.

"So I decided that trying anything is better than despairing, breaking down, or giving up."

Sitting still and doing nothing was, for all practical purposes, accepting death. This wretched excuse for a game had not one apocalypse waiting beyond the Great Northern Invasion, but three.

Not that the Covenant itself didn't fire up my motivation.

Honestly, when I could feel myself getting stronger day by day, it would've been stranger not to feel driven.

"Ian. You've really changed."

At the grave weight of my words, I glanced at Kain for a moment. Had he noticed the change in me? While I was quietly worrying over that thought—

"Haha! Well, better to train than to sit idle, no?"

The fatigue seemed to melt clean off Kain's face, and he nodded with a smile.

"As it happens, I've been considering something. I want to appoint you a swordsmanship instructor."

"A swordsmanship instructor?"

"Yes. Apparently he's a knight of some renown around these parts."

A swordsmanship instructor. That was bound to give me pause.

A famous knight of the North. Several faces flashed through my mind, but I'd been hesitant to settle on any one of them.

"Thank you."

Honestly, it was an offer I'd been hoping for. Even in the game, training under a good instructor raised proficiency far faster. I'd been meaning to ask Kain myself, so having him arrange it unprompted was a gift.

Proficiency aside, moving your own body is another matter entirely.

If anything, it was a chance to put theory into actual practice.

At this point, I should be able to shake the Trainee label.

I knew because I'd poured more than five whole years into it. Unlike my past self, who knew nothing of swords, I could now see the threshold of Sword Beginner within reach.

"Could you arrange it soon, brother?"

"Of course. Though, about that……"

And as I accepted the offer with a light heart, I saw Kain's expression darken.

"Has something happened?"

"The demonic beasts have been running wild lately."

"Demonic beasts?"

It came out of nowhere.

"Yes. Nothing serious yet, but they've been causing damage near the territory."

"Shouldn't they be subjugated?"

"…Winter is coming."

The northern winter was brutal. Thinking of it, I supposed they simply lacked the manpower to spare on a hunt right now.

"I see."

"So don't go wandering outside for no reason. Not that you seem likely to, the way you bury yourself in training."

He chuckled and clapped my shoulder, and I nodded along.

Not yet.

It simply wasn't time.

And so I kept on training.

The days slipped by.

Since gaining Northern Swordsmanship, my covenants with the wooden swords had centered on endurance and strength training. Thanks to that, while my body was being forged……

My proficiency was growing as well. Small sparks of insight came bundled with rising proficiency, and my form had grown cleaner than before. I was still savoring the feeling of it when a new message bloomed before my eyes.

My standing went up, huh.

Sword Beginner. Exactly what it said—the stage where one had only just begun handling a sword.

Still a long way off.

Even now I could use a sword to a degree, but I couldn't truly wield one. That nagging sense of falling short never left me.

"Frustrating."

To grow further, I needed something more. I was still turning the problem over seriously in my mind when I noticed someone watching me finish my training.

The swordsmanship instructor who had arrived a few days after my brother's offer. The first knight of the household I'd ever laid eyes on who came from outside the family.

Didn't expect it to be him, though.

Grey hair, and a face that seemed expressionless yet somehow sharp-edged all the same.

The knight offered only a brief salute, then simply went on observing my swordsmanship. But knowing exactly who he was, I couldn't very well say a word.

Tarian.

Five years from now, he would climb to the very brink of Sword Master—a knight acknowledged by all, and quite a famous figure in the game as well. His skill aside, he was a drifter bound to no lord or order, wandering wherever his blade took him.

And a man that famous, here in the North……

He's probably here in the North until the Great Invasion.

He'd always left those breadcrumbs in his dialogue.

"Do not go to the North."

"Another hell awaits in the North."

He said things like that constantly. Thanks to it, the community had adopted him as one of the resident North-haters.

"Good."

"……?"

That was after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'd wrapped up the routine I now had with the wooden swords—the covenant work that had become habit.

Tarian, who had said nothing day after day, finally spoke.

"It's time you set aside the wooden sword and took up a real blade."

"A real blade?"

With that, he held out an iron sword, and I slowly took it in hand.

Now I can see it.

Whether it was because my standing had risen, I could now hear the iron sword's voice—and read its covenant. And the content was different from before, too. No more mindless repetition; this demanded the achievement of a concrete goal.

So I just have to succeed once.

The problem was that the target was Tarian.

Land one hit on a knight who had already reached Sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Expert. By any sane measure, that was impossible.

This game really is cursed.

No—should I even call it a cursed game in a situation like this? Without so much as a reply, the iron sword said its piece and went silent. I studied the blade in my hand for a moment.

I'll melt you down.

The moment this covenant was done, I'd turn you into a farm tool.

While I was thinking it, Tarian spoke again.

"Northern Swordsmanship. A fine discipline."

"……"

"But Northern Swordsmanship must be unleashed with a true blade. A wooden sword cannot carry its full weight."

Gripping the hilt tight as he simply stood there, watching me, I answered.

"Then?"

Tarian, for his part, took up a training wooden sword without a word.

And I understood exactly what that meant.

What the……

It was, unmistakably, an invitation to come at him.