The exhaustion that had built and built inside Brain hit him all at once, and
from the moment he entered Gazef's house, he slept deeply for almost an
entire day. When he woke up, he ate a light meal and fell asleep again.
He didn't want to admit it, but the reason he could rest so well inside
Gazef's house was that he felt safe. He knew that if Shalltear attacked, that
monster would easily defeat even Gazef. But still, the fact that he was at his
onetime rival's house, which seemed like the securest place in the world to
him, relaxed Brain in a way that allowed for this much unguarded rest.
Light slanted through the shutters onto Brain's face.
The sunlight shone through his eyelids and woke him from a sleep so deep
he didn't even dream.
After he opened his eyes, he squinted in the bright sun and held up a hand
to block a ray.
Sitting up on the bed, he hurriedly took in his surroundings like a baby
mouse. The plain room contained only the bare minimum of furniture. The
gear he'd been wearing was piled in one corner.
"So this is the room the captain of the Royal Select offers his guests,
huh?" he commented snarkily at the empty room. Relieved no one was
around, he stretched. His joints popped audibly, his stiff muscles relaxed, and
his circulation improved.
He let out a big yawn.
"…He must have one of his men stay over now and then. This room is
probably a letdown…"
The reason nobles lived showy lives wasn't only because they were fond
of luxury. It was to keep up appearances.
Likewise, if a rank-and-file soldier's superior lived in a splendidly
furnished environment, it would spur him on to apply himself in pursuing
promotions.
"Eh, I guess it's none of my business," Brain grumbled. Then he
snickered—not at Gazef but at himself.
If he was capable of considering such trivial things, perhaps he had healed
a little from the two great shocks his mind had suffered.
He remembered the image of that powerful monster and couldn't keep his
hands from shaking.
"Yeah…" The fear clinging to his psyche wouldn't come off so easily.
Shalltear Bloodfallen.
An absolute power that even Brain Unglaus, who had sacrificed
everything he had to study the blade, couldn't begin to approach. A monster
among monsters possessing all the beauty in the world, or so it seemed. A
possessor of true strength.
Just remembering her summoned a fear that permeated his entire body.
As a slave to the terror that the monster would come after him, he'd been
on the run in the capital with almost no sleep or rest. He'd kept moving,
never getting enough rest, ruled by the worries that she would show up while
he was sleeping or slink out of the darkness as he ran down the road at night.
The reason he'd thought to flee to the capital was that if he hid himself in
a place with lots of people, he would be harder to find. But he hadn't
anticipated that the punishing psychological exhaustion of his severe fugitive
lifestyle would find him wishing for death.
He hadn't anticipated running into Gazef, either. Or had the faint hope
that Gazef could do something unconsciously pointed his feet in the captain's
direction? He didn't know.
He had nothing.
He opened his hands and they contained nothing.
He glanced at the pile of gear in the corner and saw the katana he'd
acquired in order to wrench victory from Gazef Stronoff's grip.
But what would be the point in beating him? Now that he knew of a
power infinitely greater than them both, what significance did their low-level
competitions have?
"Plowing fields…probably would have been more meaningful." As he
mocked himself, he sensed someone standing outside the door.
"Unglaus, seems like…you're up?" The voice belonged to the master of
the house.
"Yeah, Stronoff. I'm awake."
The door opened wide, and Gazef walked in. He was fully outfitted.
"You really slept, huh? I'm surprised how well you rested!"
"Yeah, thanks for letting me have a good break. I feel bad."
"No worries. But I have to head to the castle for now. When I get back,
tell me what happened to you."
"…It's an awful story, though. You might end up like me."
"Still, I can't not hear it. If we talk over drinks, I should be able to handle
it… Till then, make yourself at home. If you want some food, just let the help
know and they should feed you. And if you're going out into the city… Do
you have any money?"
"…No, but if it comes to it, I'll just sell some of my items." He held up
his ringed hand so Gazef could see it.
"Are you sure? Those are pretty valuable, aren't they?"
"Yeah, it's fine."
He had obtained them to defeat Gazef in the first place. What purpose was
there in treasuring them now that he knew that all his efforts were pointless?
"Well, sometimes you can't sell expensive items so easily, and it might
take time for the buyer to get their money together. Take this."
Gazef took out a small cloth pouch. When he put it in Brain's hand, there
was a clinking sound of metal on metal.
"…Ah, well, thanks. I'll borrow this, then."
2
3 Late Fire Moon (September) 10:31 AM
Sebas walked, wondering what to do about the five men who'd been tailing
him ever since he left the house. He wasn't going anywhere in particular.
He'd set out with the belief that getting moving would change his mood and
help him find a good idea.
After a little while, he saw a crowd of people in the road up ahead.
There were voices that could be described as neither shouts nor laughs
and the sound of something being struck. People in the mob were saying
things like "He's going to die" and "Maybe we should call a soldier…"
He couldn't see through the throng, but it was clear that some sort of
violence was being committed.
Sebas thought he would take a different street, went to change direction,
hesitated for just a split second—and then proceeded.
He was heading for the center of the crowd.
"Excuse me." With those two words, he wove his way in. Apparently
shocked, in awe of this figure slipping by them with unexpected agility for an
elderly man, the people he passed by stiffened.
There seemed to be others trying to reach the middle of the crowd—he
could hear voices saying, "Let me through!"—but they struggled, unable to
break through the mass of people.
Having propelled himself to the center with no trouble, Sebas learned with
his own eyes what was going on.
There were several poorly dressed men kicking something.
Sebas strode silently forward to within arm's length of the group.
"What do you want, old man?" One of the five men realized he was there
and loudly challenged him.
"I thought you were making a bit of a racket."
"Are you lookin' for trouble, too?"
The men swiftly surrounded Sebas and revealed what they'd been kicking
in the process. Was it a boy? He was lying limply on his side and bleeding
from either his nose or his mouth—it was unclear which. Perhaps because
he'd been getting kicked for so long, he was unconscious but apparently still
alive.
Sebas stared down the men. Their bodies and breath reeked of booze. And
their faces were red from something other than exercise.
You're drunk, so you can't keep yourselves from turning violent? "I don't
know what started all this, but how about you leave it at that?" Sebas asked
with a blank expression.
"Huh?! This kid's food stained my shirt! I'm not about to let him off the
hook!" One man pointed to something. Certainly, there was a faint stain on
the shirt; however, these men's clothes were all grungy anyway. Considering
that, the spot was barely visible.
Sebas looked at the one who seemed like the leader of the five young men
—the butler had the senses of a distinguished warrior, so he could pick up
differences humans would overlook.
"Hmm…this city isn't very safe."
"Huh?" One of the men felt ignored at Sebas's distant comment and made
a noise like he was offended.
"…Leave."
"Huh? What'd ya say, old man?"
"I'll say it again. Leave."
"Why you—!" The leader got red in the face, balled up his fists—and
crumpled to the ground.
Many of the surrounding people were shocked—including the other four
men.
What Sebas had done was simple. He'd made a fist, struck the man's jaw
with pinpoint precision—at a speed on the very edge of human perception—
and rattled his brain with a high-velocity hit. He could throw punches faster
than humans could perceive, but if he did that he wouldn't be able to scare
anyone, so he'd held back.
"Do you still want to fight?" Sebas asked quietly.
His composure and strength had overcome the intoxication clouding their
minds, and they all apologized as they backed away several steps.
Sebas felt they were apologizing to the wrong person, but he didn't say
anything.
He looked away from the fleeing men carrying their unconscious friend
and went to take a step toward the boy, but his foot stopped midway.
What am I doing?
What he needed to do was think of a way to solve his problem. Only an
idiot would make more trouble for himself at a time like this. Wasn't the
whole reason he was in his current predicament because he'd acted so
compassionately without thinking?
I saved him for now. I should be satisfied with that. With those thoughts in
his mind, Sebas approached the figure on the ground. He touched the limp,
immobile boy's back and poured chi into him. A full-powered infusion would
have easily healed him completely, but that would definitely have drawn too
much attention.
He stopped at the minimum and pointed at someone when their eyes
happened to meet. "…Take this child to the shrine. His breastbone may be
broken, so take care when you carry him. Put him on a board and try not to
bump him around too much."
When the man nodded at the orders, Sebas set off walking. There was no
need to elbow his way through the crowd. The wall of people neatly parted
for him.
Right after he left, he sensed that the number of people tailing him had
gone up.
There was just one problem—their identity.
The five who had been following him from the mansion had to be
Succuronte's henchmen. So who were the two who joined after the incident
with the boy?
The sound of the footsteps and stride length indicated adult males, but
Sebas had no idea who they might be.
"Well, thinking about it won't get me an answer. I guess I'll…catch
them?"
Sebas continued walking, turning down dirtier and dirtier streets. He was
still being followed.
"…Are they even trying to hide themselves?" There was no indication
they were attempting to conceal their footsteps. Is it because they don't have
that ability, or is there some other reason? Sebas cocked his head and
decided he should simply find out. Once the presence of other people had
dwindled, right when Sebas was about to make his move, the hoarse—but
still young-sounding—male voice of one of his pursuers called out to him.
"Excuse me!"
3
3 Late Fire Moon (September) 10:27 AM
Climb was thinking as he walked back to the castle.
He replayed that morning's session with Gazef in his mind several times,
ruminating on what he could have done to put up a better fight. Around the
time he decided on some tactics to try if there was a next time, he discovered
a crowd of people making some angry shouts. Two soldiers were watching
awkwardly from nearby.
From the middle of the crowd, he could hear a ruckus. And it belonged to
no normal voices.
Climb took on a firm expression and strode toward the soldiers. "What are
you doing?"
The sudden call from behind startled the soldiers, and they turned to look
at Climb.
They were equipped with mail and spears. Over the mail shirts, they wore
something like a surcoat with the kingdom's coat of arms. It was the typical
appearance of a kingdom guard, but these two didn't seem highly trained.
First of all, their physiques were not particularly built. Plus, their beards
weren't neatly shaved, and their mail shirts weren't polished, which made
them look rather unclean. Overall, they seemed sloppy.
"And you are…?" one of the guards asked in a voice that implied
confusion and anger at the sudden call from someone younger than him.
"I'm off-duty," Climb declared, and the man's consternation showed on
his face. Probably because an obviously younger boy seemed to be
suggesting his rank was higher.
For the time being, the soldier appeared to judge that taking a humble
approach would be smart and straightened up. "There seems to be some sort
of disturbance."
Climb repressed the urge to reprimand them with an I got that much!
Unlike the soldiers guarding the castle, the ones patrolling the city were
commoners, so they hadn't been through as much training. They were
essentially peasants who'd learned to use a weapon.
Climb moved his eyes from the nervous soldiers to the cluster of people.
Rather than expecting these two to do something, it would be faster to act
himself.
Maybe he was exceeding the authority of his position by sticking his nose
in their business, but he wouldn't have been able to explain to his
compassionate master if he stood by while people suffered.
"You guys wait here."
Having made up his mind, Climb forced his way into the mass of people
without listening for a reply. Even if there was a small gap, he couldn't slip
through. No, it would be strange if there were a human who could.
As he desperately elbowed his way through, nearly getting shoved aside,
he heard a voice from the center of the crowd.
"…Leave."
"Huh? What'd ya say, old man?"
"I'll say it again. Leave."
"Why you—!"
This is bad.
They were going to lash out again, this time at an old man.
When Climb popped out of the crowd, flushed after frantically pushing
his way through, the first thing he saw was an elderly man—and the men
surrounding him. There was a child who looked like a tattered rag at their
feet.
The elegance of the well-dressed older man indicated he either was a
noble or served one. The robust men around him seemed drunk. A glance was
all it would take to tell who was in the wrong.
The man who seemed to be the strongest curled his hands into tight fists.
The difference between that man and the old one was overwhelming.
He had a stocky body, bulky muscles, and a violent temperament that
wouldn't hesitate to shed blood. If he hit the older man, he could easily send
him flying. The people around them who realized this released faint screams
at the thought of the tragedy about to befall the old man.
Climb was the only one among them who sensed something was off.
Certainly, the other man looked more robust, but Climb had the feeling
that the absolute power he sensed belonged to the older one.
That momentary distraction meant he lost his chance to stop the violence.
The man balled up his fists—and collapsed.
Surprised voices sounded all around Climb.
The old man had made a fist and whacked the drunk's jaw with terrifying
accuracy—at quite a high speed. It was a punch that even Climb, who had
trained his eyes to follow fast movements, could only just make out.
"Do you still want to fight?" The old man's deep, quiet voice asked the
question.
His composure and sudden display of strength were incredibly sobering
for the drunk men. No, even the spectators were overcome by the elderly
man's drive. The men had completely lost the will to fight.
"U-uhh, we're sorry." They all apologized as they backed away several
steps. Then they picked up their friend from his awkward position on the
ground and fled.
Climb didn't feel like pursuing them. Mesmerized by the old man's
straight posture, he couldn't move.
His spine was straight as a sword. Any soldier aspired to cut a figure like
that.
After touching the boy's back, perhaps palpating to examine him, the old
man asked a bystander to take care of him and walked off. The crowd parted
in a straight line, creating a path, and no one took their eyes off his back. That
was the effect of such poise.
Climb rushed over to the boy on the ground and took out the potion Gazef
had given to him during their training session. "Can you drink this?"
There was no response. The boy had lost consciousness completely.
Climb opened the bottle and sprinkled the potion over his body. Many
people thought potions were only for drinking, but they worked equally well
when they were poured on the target. Such was the extraordinary nature of
magic.
As if the boy's skin was drinking it in, the liquid was absorbed into his
body. The color returned to his face.
Relieved, Climb nodded once.
The bystanders were just as surprised at the use of such an expensive item
as they were at the old man's moves.
Climb had given up a potion, but naturally, he didn't regret it. As long as
taxes were being collected from the people, it was his duty as someone
subsisting on that money to protect them and keep the peace. If he couldn't
do that, he should at least do this.
Since I used a potion on him, he should be fine, but we should still
probably take him to the shrine, just in case. When he glanced at the guards
standing by, there were three more. They must have shown up late.
The guards who had finally arrived on the scene turned a critical eye on
all the people in the area.
Climb spoke to one of the uncomfortable-looking patrolmen. "Take this
child to the shrine."
"What in the world…?"
"He was beaten up. I used a healing potion on him, so I think he's okay,
but I want you to take him to the shrine just to be sure."
"Right. Understood!"
Climb decided he would leave the rest up to the guards. His work there
was done. A soldier from the castle probably shouldn't stick his nose into
other jurisdictions too much.
"Can I ask you to get the details about what happened from someone who
saw the whole thing?"
"Understood."
"Then I'll leave the rest up to you."
The guards were more confident with orders, and after Climb confirmed
that they were taking efficient action, he stood up and took off running. He
heard one of them call, "Where are you going?!" but he ignored it.
When he got to the street where the old man had turned, he slowed down.
He caught sight of his target right away.
Really, he wanted to call out to him immediately, but he wasn't feeling
quite brave enough. He felt an overwhelming amount of pressure, like a
thick, invisible wall.
The old man continued walking, turning down dirtier and dirtier streets.
Climb continued after him. All the time he was following, he couldn't bring
himself to talk to him.
I'm tailing him. Climb despaired at his own conduct. He shouldn't do that
no matter how hard it was to talk to someone. I need to change this situation,
he fretted as he kept walking.
Eventually, about when they'd reached a back alley devoid of human
presence, Climb took a few deep breaths and shouted with all the courage he
could muster, like a man confessing his feelings to a girl he liked.
"Excuse me!"
The old man whirled around in response to the voice.
His hair was completely white, as was his beard, but his back was straight
as the blade of a steel sword. Conspicuous wrinkles in his chiseled features
gave him an air of kindness, but his penetrating eyes were like those of a
hawk targeting its prey.
He even had the elegance of a great noble.
"Did you need something?" The old man's voice was a bit hoarse but full
of a lively, dignified energy.
Climb felt an invisible force pressing in on him, and he swallowed. "Uuh…" Overwhelmed by the power of the old man, he couldn't get proper
words out.
Noticing that, the old man relaxed. "Who are you?" His tone was gentle.
Finally, released from that heavy pressure, Climb's throat could work
normally. "…My name is Climb, and I'm a soldier here. Thank you for doing
what should have been my job." Climb bowed, humble and low.
The old man squinted slightly, thinking, and then seemed to realize what
Climb meant with a little "Oh… It was no trouble. I'll be going now."
Climb raised his head and, as the old man clipped the conversation short
and started walking off, said, "Please wait. Actually…I'm ashamed to admit
it, but I've been following you because—and I hope you'll laugh at my
impertinence—if you don't mind, I'd like you to mentor me about that skill
you used."
"What…do you mean by that?"
"I'm working very hard to get stronger, so when I saw your incredible
movements earlier, I thought it would be great if I could get you to teach me
the skill."
The old man looked Climb up and down. "Hmm…let me see your hands."
Climb stuck out his hands, and the old man gazed intently at his palms. He
couldn't help but feel uneasy. The old man flipped his hands over, glanced at
his nails, and then nodded in satisfaction. "They're thick and sturdy—good
warrior hands."
The smile and the compliment made Climb feel warm inside. The rush of
happiness was on par with the one he felt when Gazef had praised him.
"No…I'm barely a soldier."
"No need for modesty… Next, may I see your sword?"
The old man gazed first at the grip, then at the blade, of the sword he was
handed. "I see… Is this a spare weapon?"
"How did you know?!"
"So it is, then? There's a dent here."
When he closely examined the place the old man was pointing at, sure
enough, the blade had a slight ding in it. It must have struck something in an
awkward way during training.
"How embarrassing!" Climb was so mortified he wished he could
disappear.
Because Climb was aware of how unskilled he was, he paid an obsessive
amount of attention to his weapons to gain even a little bit of an edge. Or at
least, up until that moment, he'd thought so.
"I see. I have a rough understanding of your personality now. Hands and
weapon are mirrors of a warrior's character. You've made a very favorable
impression on me."
Climb, beet red to his ears, looked admiringly at the old man.
What he saw was a gracious, good-natured smile.
"Okay. I'll train you, but just a bit. However"—he stopped Climb before
he could thank him—"there is something I want to ask. You said you're a
soldier, right? Well, the other day I saved this woman…"
After hearing the old man Sebas's story, Climb was furious. He couldn't
hide his disgust at the fact that someone would abuse the emancipation of the
slaves Renner had proclaimed and that nothing had even changed yet.
No, that wasn't right. Climb shook his head.
The law prohibited the buying and selling of slaves. However, it wasn't
uncommon to have people working off debts in poor conditions. That
loophole had become a free-for-all. Actually, it was probably precisely
because there was a loophole that the law managed to get enacted at all.
Renner's law is nearly meaningless. The thought flitted across Climb's
mind, but he shook it off. What he needed to consider right now was Sebas's
circumstances.
He furrowed his brow.
Sebas was at a total disadvantage. Certainly, it would be possible to
investigate the terms of the young woman's contract and counterattack, but
he couldn't imagine the opposing side wasn't prepared for such a tactic. If
they appealed to the law, Sebas would surely lose.
The fact that the other men hadn't already done so had to be because they
felt they could rip him off even better some other way.
"Do you happen to know anyone who isn't corrupt who could help me?"
Climb knew only one person. He could say with confidence that there was
no noble with more integrity than Renner. He knew she could be trusted.
But he couldn't introduce her.
If these people were capable of skirting the slave-trafficking prohibition,
they were sure to have connections within various power structures.
Naturally, the nobles they were affiliated with probably had a fair bit of
authority. If the princess, a member of the king's faction, invoked state
authority to investigate, enact a rescue, and cause losses for the nobles'
faction, it could lead to an all-out war.
Exercising authority wasn't such a simple matter. One wrong move could
trigger a civil war, especially in a case like their divided kingdom's.
He couldn't let Renner be responsible for the downfall of the state.
Lakyus felt the same way, which was why their earlier conversation had
gone as it had. That was why Climb hadn't said anything—no, couldn't say
anything.
However Sebas had interpreted his anguished silence, he murmured, "I
see," and then offered additional news that shocked Climb. "…From what
she told me, there are still others held captive in the building, men and
women alike."
What the heck? So does that mean there is another brothel besides the one
run by the slave-trafficking org? Or…is it the same one?
"If it's a matter of allowing them to flee somewhere…I would have to ask
my master, but she has some land, so maybe they could go there…"
"Would that be possible? …Would you be able to shelter the woman I
saved as well?"
"My apologies, Sir Sebas, but I can't promise anything without asking my
master. That said, she is a very compassionate person. I think it'll be all
right!"
"Hmm! If you have that much faith in your master, she must be a
wonderful person."
Climb nodded emphatically. He had a more admirable master than
anyone.
"I'm changing the subject here, but if we could prove slave-trafficking
activities were taking place at the brothel, what would happen to it? Would
even that get covered up?"
"There's a possibility they would be forced to close up shop if we turned
in the evidence to the proper authorities… At least, I want to believe the
kingdom isn't that corrupt."
"…Understood. Now then, allow me to ask you a different question. Why
do you want to get stronger?"
"Huh?" Climb let out a foolish-sounding yelp, caught off guard by the
sudden topic change.
"You just said you want me to train you. I've judged that I can trust you,
but I want to know the reason you are pursuing power."
Climb squinted as he pondered.
Why do I want to get stronger?
Climb had been abandoned as a child and didn't know either of his
parents' faces. In the kingdom, this wasn't such a rare thing. And it wasn't
uncommon to die facedown in the mud, either.
It had been Climb's fate to die in such a way in the rain that day.
But instead, he had met the sun. After crawling around in the dirt and the
dim his entire existence, he was enthralled by its brilliance.
When he was young, he had admired her, and as he grew, the feeling
assumed a stronger form.
Love.
He had to destroy that emotion. A miracle like in the sagas the bards sang
would never happen in the real world. Just as no human could reach the sun,
Climb's feelings would never reach her—no, he couldn't allow them to.
The woman Climb loved was fated to be another man's wife. There was
no way a princess would end up bound to someone like Climb, whose status
was lower than a peasant's and whose origins were unknown.
If the king suddenly collapsed and the eldest prince assumed the throne,
Renner would surely be married off immediately to one of the great nobles. It
had probably already been decided between the prince and the noble. Or it
was possible there would be a strategic marriage to someone in a neighboring
country.
It was strange that she was of age but had no husband or even a fiancé.
It was a golden moment, and he would have given anything to stop time.
If he didn't have to train so much, he would have been able to relish it a little
more.
Climb was an ordinary person with no innate ability. Still, thanks to his
hard work, he'd managed to get fairly strong as a soldier. So deciding he was
satisfied with that, quitting his workouts, and spending a little more time next
to Renner would be a better use of his time, wouldn't it?
But…could he really do that?
Climb admired her brilliance. That was no lie nor was it mistaken. It was
just a feeling from his heart.
But…
"I'm a man, so…" Climb laughed.
Yes, he wanted to stand next to her. The sun shone up in the sky. A
human could never stand next to it. Still, he wanted to climb as high as he
could, be someone who could stand even a little closer to her.
He didn't want to be forever looking up at her in admiration.
These were the silly feelings of a boy, but they were good for a boy to
have. He wanted to be a man suitable for the woman he admired, even if they
would never be together.
It was because he had those feelings that he could endure his friendless
life, his difficult warrior path, and the studies that chipped away at his
sleeping time.
If anyone wants to laugh at my foolish ideas, let them.
Only a person who had truly loved someone could understand.
Sebas squinted as he intently observed the boy, wanting to comprehend the
countless meanings contained in the short reply. Then he nodded in
satisfaction.
"Based on your reply, I've decided what sort of training to give you."
Climb was about to thank him, but a hand moved out to stop him.
"But I'm sorry to say, it appears you have no innate aptitude. If I were to
really commit to training you, it would take a long time, and I don't have that
luxury. I'd like to train you in a way that is effective and possible in a short
amount of time, but…it's quite intense."
Climb gulped.
Sebas's eyes sent a chill up his spine.
They were the piercing eyes of someone whose power surpassed Gazef's
best efforts, as impossible as that seemed. That was why he couldn't answer
immediately.
"I'll be blunt: You could die."
He's not kidding. Climb sensed that. He didn't mind dying if it was for
Renner's sake, but he definitely didn't want to die for his own selfish reasons.
He wasn't a coward—no, maybe he was.
He swallowed and wavered. For a little while, it was so quiet they could
hear a far-off commotion.
"Whether you die or not depends on your spirit… If you have something
precious to you, if you have reason to cling to life even if you're brought to
your knees, you should be all right."
Wasn't he going to teach me martial arts? Climb began to wonder in the
back of his mind, but that wasn't the issue at this point. He considered the
meaning of Sebas's words, digested it, and then replied, "I'm ready. Please
train me."
"You mean you're confident you won't die?"
Climb shook his head. That wasn't it.
He wanted to cling to life even if it was on his knees—because he always
had a reason to.
Having perhaps read these feelings in Climb's eyes, Sebas nodded
emphatically. "Understood. Then let's begin the training."
"Here?"
"Yes. It will only take a few minutes. Prepare your weapon."
What in the world are we going to do? Climb drew his sword and faced
the unknown with a mixture of apprehension and confusion, as well as a tiny
bit of anticipation and curiosity.
The ring of the blade sliding against its sheath echoed in the narrow alley.
Climb pointed the sword at Sebas's eyes, and Sebas stared at him.
"Okay, here I go. Do your best to stay conscious."
And the next moment…
…it was almost like blades of ice had shot out from him in every
direction.
Climb had no words.
What was really swirling around Sebas was a killing intent.
A thick, dark presence surged over Climb like a wave, almost enough to
crush his heart at that moment. He thought he heard a scream like someone's
soul being broken. It could have come from close by or far away, or it could
have spurted out of his own mouth.
Tossed on the murderous black torrent, Climb felt his consciousness
beginning to white out. There was so much fear that his mind was trying to
let go of consciousness to avoid it.
"…Is this how much of a 'man' you are? I'm just getting warmed up."
Sebas's disappointment echoed loudly within Climb's fading awareness.
Those words cut Climb deeper than any blade could. It was enough to
make him forget the terror coming at him, even if only for a moment.
Ba-bum. His heart thumped once, loudly.
He exhaled sharply.
He was so scared, wanted to run away. But he desperately stood his
ground with tears in his eyes. His hands shook and the tip of his sword
wobbled crazily. His mail shirt was making a racket he was shaking so hard.
Still he desperately clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering and
tried to withstand his terror of Sebas.
Sebas snorted at Climb's unseemly state and slowly began to ball up his
raised right hand. In less than a few blinks, it had become a round fist.
Then one of them slowly began moving back, as if it were being drawn
like a bowstring.
Realizing what was about to happen, Climb shook his head, trembling.
Sebas, of course, would not entertain his wish.
"Well, then…please die."
Like an arrow released from a fully drawn bow, Sebas's fist zoomed
forward with a roar of ripping air.
This is instant death. Climb sensed it in slow motion. His mind was seized
by the perfect image of death—an iron ball much taller than he was zooming
straight for him at a furious speed. If he shielded himself with his sword, the
fist would smash through like it was nothing.
His entire body could no longer move. He was so tense he'd frozen.
There's no way to escape the death I'm facing.
Climb gave up but then got irritated at himself.
If he wasn't going to die for Renner's sake, then why didn't he just give
up back then? He should have died shivering all alone in the rain.
He saw Renner's beautiful face.
They say a person's life flashes before their eyes when they're on the
brink of death. Supposedly, that's the brain groping through the memories of
the person's entire past for a possible way to escape, so Climb found it
strange that the last thing he would see was the smile of the master he loved
and respected.
Yes, she was smiling.
She hadn't smiled for him when she was young right after she saved him.
When did she start smiling for me?
He couldn't remember. But he did remember her timidly doing so.
Would that smile become a frown when she heard he'd died? Would thick
clouds blot out the sun?
Dammit!
Climb's heart flooded with rage.
His life had been tossed into the street, and she had picked it up. That
meant this life was not his. He existed for Renner, to make her even a little
happier…
There has to be some way to escape!
The fierce emotion shattered the chains of fear.
His hands moved.
His feet moved.
The eyes he'd been trying to squeeze shut flew open and frantically
shifted to the fist rushing at him with incredible speed.
It was like all his body's senses had been sharpened to extremes, as if he
could detect the slightest vibration in the air.
It's said there exists a phenomenon known as hysterical strength. It's the
unbelievable potential people are able to exhibit in extreme situations because
their brain releases the limiter holding back their physical power.
The brain secretes large volumes of hormones, concentrating the mental
faculties all for the purpose of survival. Suddenly, the person can process a
vast amount of information at high speed in order to discern the appropriate
course of action.
Climb entered the realm of the best warriors for a brief moment. But
Sebas's attack was still faster. Surely it was already too late. He probably
wouldn't have time to dodge the fist. Still, he had to move. There was no way
he could give up. He could tell he was moving like a tortoise in this intensely
compressed period of time, but he desperately twisted his body.
Then—
Sebas's fist blew by Climb's face. The ensuing wind pulled out a few of
his hairs.
A quiet voice reached his ears.
"Congratulations. How does it feel to have conquered the fear of death?"
…
Climb stood there with a dazed expression, not understanding what he'd
just been asked.
"How was it? How did it feel to face death? And how does it feel to have
overcome it?"
Breathing hard, Climb stared at Sebas with an empty expression, as if
he'd lost something. It was like his intent to kill had been nothing more than
a lie. Sebas's words sank into his brain, and he finally felt relief flooding him.
As if the violent drive to kill had been propping him up, Climb crumpled
to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Flat on the road,
he voraciously sucked fresh air into his lungs.
"…You're lucky you didn't die of shock. It happens sometimes. People
become convinced they will actually die and give up on life."
Climb still tasted something bitter in the back of his throat. He was sure it
was the taste of death.
"If we repeat this a few times, you should end up able to overcome
ordinary fear. We need to be careful, though, because this stimulates your
survival instincts. If they grow numb to it, you won't be able to recognize
clear danger. You always need situational awareness."
"…F-forgive me, but who or what are you?" Climb gasped from below.
"What do you mean?"
"Th-that killing resolve was not the sort a normal person can project. So
what in the world—?"
"For now, let's say I'm just an old man who has confidence in his
strength."
Climb couldn't take his eyes off Sebas's smiling face. The expression
seemed to be born of kindness, but it also seemed like the fierce grin of one
with absolute power far surpassing even Gazef.
A man who might far exceed Gazef, the strongest warrior from any of the
nearby nations…
Climb decided his curiosity would be satisfied with that. He didn't think it
would be right to press the issue.
Still, the question of who this old man Sebas was lingered stubbornly in
his mind. He even wondered if he might be one of the Thirteen Heroes.
"Then I think it's about time to get goi—"
"W-wait! There's something I want to ask you!"
A terrified voice echoed out from behind them, interrupting Sebas.
4
3 Late Fire Moon (September) 9:42 AM
Brain left Gazef's house.
He turned around and, thinking ahead to his return, took mental note of
what the building looked like. When Gazef had brought him here, he'd been
only half-conscious due to his low body temperature, so he didn't really
remember it.
The location of Gazef's house he knew because he'd been gathering
information on him in order to challenge him to a duel in the future. But that
was just secondhand information, and there were slight discrepancies with the
truth.
"Psh, there's no sword stuck in the roof." Cursing the information dealer
who told him such half-baked rumors, he took a close look at the house.
It was far smaller than the mansions nobles lived in and seemed more like
a place for regular citizens with a little extra money. Still, it was more than
big enough for Gazef and the elderly couple who served him.
Having memorized the image, Brain set off.
He wasn't going anywhere in particular.
Before, he might have wanted to go hunting for weapons, armor, or magic
items but not anymore.
"I wonder what I should do…" His grumbles disappeared into the air.
He thought he wouldn't mind just vanishing somewhere. He was still
actually attracted to the idea of dying.
When he searched his heart for what he desired, all he found was a gaping
hole. His goal had been completely destroyed. Not even a husk of it
remained.
So why…?
Glancing down at his right hand, he saw his katana. Under his shirt there
was mail.
He'd been holding his katana so tightly on his way to the capital out of
fear. Even though he knew it would have no effect on the monster Shalltear,
who repelled his full-strength attacks with a fingernail, he was anxious
without it.
So why am I holding it now? I should have been able to leave it behind.
Am I still anxious? Brain thought but then shook his head.
No.
But in the end, he couldn't figure out what motivation caused him to bring
the sword.
Brain walked along, remembering the way the royal capital was the first
time he visited it. Some buildings, like the wizards' guild and the castle,
hadn't changed, but he also saw lots of new edifices. As he enjoyed the stroll
down memory lane, he came upon a disturbance happening down the road.
He frowned at the commotion. He could sense the bristling sensation of
violence from the center of the crowd.
Guess I'll go somewhere else, he thought, but just as he'd turned his feet
in a different direction, an old man caught his eye. He was approaching the
center of the crowd with such fluid motions he seemed to be gliding.
"…H-huh? What the heck? How does he do that?" The words slipped out
of Brain's mouth in spite of himself as he blinked several times. The way the
old man moved was just too unbelievable. Brain thought he must have just
seen a waking dream or the workings of some kind of magic spell.
Brain probably couldn't do that himself. It was a skill that required a
complete grasp of another's consciousness as well as the overall waves of the
pushing and shoving crowd.
It was the pinnacle of movement itself.
With zero hesitation, Brain's legs carried him toward the crowd of people.
After pushing and shoving his way through to the center, Brain emerged
just in time to see the old man swiftly whack the other man's jaw.
What the heck? Would I even be able to block that? Seems…tricky? Was
he manipulating the guy's attention and gaze? Maybe I'm thinking too hard.
Still, that punch was clean enough to be included in a training manual. As
Brain ruminated on the attack he'd just witnessed, an impressed grunt
escaped his lips.
It wasn't as if he'd seen it clearly, and it was extremely difficult to
evaluate fistfighters and swordsmen on the same scale. Still, from just that
short amount of time, he'd understood that the man was terribly strong.
It's possible he's stronger than me.
Biting his lower lip, he compared the old man's profile to all the strong
people he could remember, but there wasn't a match. Who in the world is this
guy?
A moment later the old man had left the circle of onlookers. A boy walked
off after him. As if tempted by the boy's actions, Brain followed behind him.
The old man seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, so Brain
couldn't bring himself to trail directly behind him, but he didn't have that
worry with the boy. He also shrewdly considered that even if the boy were
found out, he would be safe.
As soon as he started after them, he realized there were multiple people
shadowing either the old man or the boy, but Brain didn't care.
Eventually the two of them turned down dimmer and dirtier streets. Brain
became concerned. It was almost like the man was leading them somewhere.
Just as he started to question if the boy didn't wonder where they were
going, he called out to the old man.
Fortunately for Brain, they began having a conversation immediately
around a corner, so he hid himself behind it and listened.
To sum up their conversation, the boy wanted lessons from the old man.
There's no way. An old guy that strong would never take this little turd as a
disciple. Comparing their ability levels, Brain figured that if the boy was a
pebble, the old man was a huge gem. Their worlds were too far apart. How
sad. How incredibly sad that he can't even see the gap in their abilities.
Leave it at that, kid, Brain whispered silently in his head.
It was meant for the boy, but at the same time he was mocking his foolish
old self, who had been convinced he was the strongest.
As he listened—he couldn't have cared less about the brothel—the old
man appeared to offer the boy some training this one time. He had no idea
what the old man saw in him.
What could it mean? Or am I missing something? Nah, that can't be. That
brat has barely any ability as a warrior and next to no potential!
What kind of training would it be? He could hear from his current
position, but he couldn't see. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he
moved, concealing his presence, to peek around the corner. That was when—
A horrifying presence pierced his entire body.
He let out a wordless shriek.
His entire body froze.
It was like the breath of a gigantic carnivorous beast. The world was so
coated in an overwhelming sense of impending death that he couldn't blink,
much less move. He felt like even his heart had stopped.
This presence could have rivaled that of the one Brain believed to be the
most powerful in the whole world—Shalltear Bloodfallen's.
Far from seeming to stop, a weaker man's heart would probably have
actually failed.
His legs shook so hard he fell back onto his butt. If this is what it's like for
me, that kid's probably dead—passed out if he's lucky!
Scared though he was, Brain crawled into a position from which he could
see the two figures, and what he saw was so unbelievable he completely
forgot his fear for a split second.
The boy was still standing.
The same fear assailing Brain made the younger man's legs tremble, but
he was still standing.
Wh-what the heck? How can that kid still be on his feet?! Brain couldn't
understand how the boy could stand if his own legs had humiliatingly given
out under the fear.
Does he have a magic item or martial art that protects him from fear? Or
is he a talent holder?
Those things weren't completely out of the question, but seeing how
helpless he looked, Brain sensed it was something else. It was an impossible
conclusion, but it was the only one he could come up with: The boy was
stronger than him.
No way! There's just no way that can be true!
He was probably working out, but he wasn't anywhere near big enough.
Judging from his footwork and his technique as he'd tailed the old man,
Brain didn't think he could have a terrible amount of ability. The boy didn't
seem to be made of much, but this outcome said otherwise.
Wh-what is going on? Am I really that weak?
His vision began to blur.
He realized he was crying, but he didn't have the energy to wipe away the
tears.
"Wagh, ngh…ngh…" He frantically stifled his sobs, but the tears fell one
after the other. "Why…? Why?"
He clenched the dirt beneath him and stood up. Still, he was immobile
under the desire to kill pummeling him. It was like his feet were under
someone else's control—they were paralyzed. It was all he could do to look
up and observe the old man and the boy.
He could see the boy's back.
The boy was still standing.
He was still facing the old man projecting all that bloodthirst. He'd
thought the boy was weak, but now he seemed so far beyond him.
"Am I…"
…really this weak?
He was irritated at himself. Even when the killing urge vanished, he could
barely stand.
It seemed like the boy and the old man were going to continue their
training but, unable to hold himself back any longer, Brain mustered his
courage and jumped out from behind the corner. "W-wait!"
In his current state, Brain didn't have the wherewithal to consider that he
shouldn't interrupt them or that he should wait for a better moment.
The boy whipped around with a jerk of his shoulders, startled at the
panicked voice. If Brain had been in his position, he probably would have
reacted the same way.
"First, please accept my heartfelt apology for interrupting you. I couldn't
wait."
"…Do you know him, Sir Sebas?"
"No, I do not. So you don't know him, either…?"
They regarded him suspiciously, but he had expected that. "My name is
Brain Unglaus. Please allow me to apologize again for interrupting you. My
deepest apologies."
He bowed even lower than the first time and sensed the pair shift slightly.
When enough time had passed to properly express his regret, Brain lifted
his head. He could tell they were a little less wary of him now.
"And what is it you want?"
At the old man's question, Brain flicked his eyes to the boy.
"What could you possibly want with me?"
It was difficult for Brain, but he asked the puzzled boy, "Why…how…
were you able to stand in the face of such murderous pressure?!"
The boy's eyes widened slightly. Because he was holding a neutral
expression, even that small of a change implied a large emotional shock.
"I want to know. That was beyond the realm of what a normal person can
handle. Dammit—excuse my language—it was beyond what even I could
take. But you're different. You did it. You stood. How did you do it? Up
against something so powerful?!"
He was so agitated, it slipped into his speech. But he couldn't hold
himself back. He'd fled from the overwhelming power of Shalltear
Bloodfallen. This boy had stood there when faced with an equal thirst for
blood. Where does the gap come from?
He just had to know.
Perhaps his intention had gotten through. The boy seemed flustered but
still gave the question careful consideration before replying, "…I don't know.
I have no idea why I was able to stand my ground in such a murderous storm.
But it might have been…because I was thinking about my master."
"…Your master?"
"Yes. I was thinking about the person I serve…and I managed to hang
on."
Brain wanted to shout, There's no way that's all you did! But the old man
began to speak.
"So your loyalty is so great it overcomes fear. Sir Unglaus, people can
display unbelievable power if it's for someone they hold dear, like how a
mother can lift the beam of a collapsed house to save her child or how a man
can hold his wife by one hand if she's about to fall. That is, I believe, human
strength. This boy was able to tap into that power. And he's not the only one
who can do that. If you have something you could never give up, you can
probably display power beyond what you think you have, as well."
Brain couldn't believe it. His thirst for power that he'd thought he could
never give up had turned out to be meaningless, hadn't it? He'd easily
broken, become frightened, and run away.
His expression had been clouding over, but he snapped back to attention
as Sebas continued.
"…When you cultivate something on your own, it's weak—because if
you bend, that's the end. If instead, you build something with another person
or for someone, you may bend, but you won't break."
Brain wondered, Do I have anyone like that?
But he didn't. He'd decided they weren't useful to him and thrown away
those relationships. So the things he'd abandoned in his craving for power
were actually the most important?
Brain laughed. His whole life was mistake after mistake. And so he ended
up grumbling, "I threw them all away. Do you think there's anything I can do
about it now?"
"You'll be all right. I don't have any innate ability, and I was able to do it.
I'm sure you can do it, Sir Unglaus! It's never too late."
They were the baseless words of a boy. Still, Brain felt some warmth in
his heart. "You're kind…and strong… I'm sorry."
The boy answered the sudden apology with a blank expression. He was so
strong, but Brain had been looking down on him as just a "turd."
I'm a fool. I'm just such a fool.
"By the way, you wouldn't happen to be the Brain Unglaus who once
fought Sir Stronoff, would you?"
"…You know your stuff, huh? Were you watching the fight?"
"Oh no, I didn't see it. I just heard the story from someone who did. They
said you were a fantastic swordsman, certainly one of the best in the
kingdom. The way you carry yourself, your balanced movements, make me
think it's the truth!"
With the pure goodwill weighing heavily on him, Brain stammered out a
reply. "…Uhh…th-thank you. I—I don't think of myself like that at all, but
to hear you praise me…makes me kind of happy."
"Hmm. Sir Unglaus—" began the old man.
"Sir, just Unglaus is fine. I'm not worthy of being treated with such
respect by someone with such strength."
"Very well. My name is Sebas Tian, so please call me Sebas… Now then,
would you mind instructing Climb here in swordsmanship? I think it would
benefit you as well."
"Oh! Please excuse me! My name is Climb, Sir Unglaus."
"Sir—excuse me—Sebas, won't you be training him? It seemed like you
were going to before I interrupted."
"Yes, I had intended to, but we have company, so I think I will deal with
them—oh, here they are. It must have taken some time to arm themselves."
A moment later, Brain turned in the direction Sebas was looking.
Three men slowly showed themselves. They wore shirts of mail, and in
their hands, protected by thick leather gloves, were their naked blades.
Their mood had already gone beyond hostile and was simply murderous.
It was directed at the old man, but it didn't seem like they had a fraction of
the mercy necessary to leave any witnesses alive.
Brain was shocked and shouted hoarsely in spite of himself. "Of all the
ridiculous—! They felt that bloodlust and still want to come over here? Are
they that strong?!"
If that were the case, they each had to be equal to—no, stronger than—
Brain. Maybe the reason they were so bad at stealth was because they had
specialized so intensely in warrior abilities.
But Sebas dismissed all of Brain's worries. "I only directed that at you
two."
"…Huh?" Brain knew he sounded like an idiot.
"For Climb, it was training. For you, it was to smoke you out, or I suppose
to discourage you from fighting or taking a hostile stance, since I didn't know
who you were and you refused to show yourself. I knew these men were
enemies from the beginning, though, so I didn't direct any at them. It would
have been problematic if they had gotten scared and run away."
Listening to Sebas's horrifying explanation, Brain gave up on being
surprised. The ability to control that much power to exclude targets
transcended common sense.
"I—I see. Then you know who they are?"
"I have a guess, but there's no conclusive evidence. So I'm thinking to
capture one or two and get some intelligence out of them; however—" Sebas
lowered his head. "I do not wish to involve you in these matters. Could I ask
you to please get away from here immediately?"
"Before that, I'd like to ask you something. Are they…criminals?" Climb
asked.
"…They sure seem like it—the type with something to hide."
Brain's comment saw flames leap into Climb's eyes. "I don't mean to
intrude, but I would also like to fight. As a keeper of the peace in the capital,
it's only natural for me to protect the people."
It's not like we know that Sebas is representing justice, thought Brain.
Sure, compared to the guys who had just shown up, anyone would think
Sebas and his mien that practically screamed integrity were in the right, but
there was no guarantee. This kid's so green…
But he knew how the boy felt.
Comparing a man who would protect a child from a bunch of drunks to
these guys, Brain knew which side he would choose. "Not that I think you
need reinforcements, Sebas, but I'll be damned if— Er, I mean I'll help out as
well."
Brain stood next to Climb. Sebas didn't need assistance—really, there was
no point for them to even be there. But Brain figured he would follow
Climb's example and try fighting for someone else, choosing the option he
wouldn't have taken before. He would protect the boy whose heart was
strong but whose skill with the sword wasn't enough to match it.
Brain peered at the weapons the men were holding and furrowed his brow.
"They're poisoned…? If they're using something they could end up hurting
themselves with, they must have some experience… Could they be
assassins?"
The grooved daggers, called mail breakers, glistened with some kind of
slimy, abnormal liquid in the depressions. What affirmed Brain's murmured
hypothesis were their nimble movements, which prioritized mobility more
than a swordsman's would.
"Climb, be careful. Unless you have a magic item that will protect you
from poison, consider even a single hit bad news." When one's physical
ability was at Brain's level, it was normal to have built up a resistance to the
most common poisons, but Climb probably wouldn't be able to withstand
anything very potent.
"The reason they're facing us head-on but not immediately attacking is
because they're waiting for the other two to flank us, correct? If we have the
chance, why don't we just break straight through?" Sebas had purposely
spoken just loud enough for their opponents to overhear, and they froze for a
moment. They were startled that he'd seen through their plan to surround
them.
"That seems like the safest move. It's probably even safer to crush the
vanguard first and then take on the ones behind." Brain affirmed Sebas's
idea, but then Sebas himself shot it down.
"Oh, but they'd run away if we did that. I'll take the three in front, so
could you take on the two coming around?"
Brain confirmed, and Climb nodded yes. This was Sebas's battle. They
were just forcing him to allow them to help. Unless Sebas was about to make
a fatal error, their role was to act in accordance with his plan.
"Okay, let's go!" Brain told Climb, turning away from the men. He was
able to show his open back to the hostile enemies because Sebas was there.
Letting Sebas cover him gave him peace of mind, like the protection of a
thick castle wall.
"Now then, unfortunately for you gentlemen, I'll be your opponent. Oh,
but please don't get distracted by these two."
Brain looked over his shoulder and saw three daggers between the ringed
fingers of Sebas's right hand. When he spread his fingers, the daggers the
men had thrown at the defenseless Brain and Climb fell to the ground.
The men's will to fight shrank visibly.
No kidding. Anyone would lose the motivation to fight after watching their
daggers get caught. Did you finally figure out how strong Sebas is? But it's
too late now…
They wouldn't be able to escape this old man, even if they scattered.
"Amazing." Climb moved in line with Brain.
"Yeah. If someone said Sebas was the strongest in the kingdom, I would
agree."
"Even stronger than the captain of the Royal Select?"
"Stronoff? Yeah, to be frank, if Gazef and I took Sebas on two to one,
we'd still have no chance—oh, here they come."
Two men appeared and circled around the outside. As could be expected,
they looked much like the other three. At the sound of a sword being drawn
next to him, Brain followed suit.
"The reason one of them isn't hiding in the shadows throwing daggers
must be because Sebas was onto them."
An ambush was effective because it was hidden. If it was revealed, all it
did was diffuse their muscle. They must have figured that since they'd
already been discovered, they had a better chance of victory if they each took
one man.
"They have no idea… Climb, I'll take the one on the right. You take the
left," he instructed the boy after judging which of their opponents was weaker
from his movements. Climb nodded and assumed a stance. His unhesitating
manner was that of someone who had been in a life-threatening skirmish
before. Brain was relieved he wasn't a battle virgin who had done only
training exercises.
Climb should be able to win against this guy…but considering the
enemy's coming with poison, it might be a pretty close shave.
Even if Climb had experience in actual combat, Brain couldn't imagine
that he had walked a bloody gauntlet that included frequent battles against
poisoned weapons. It might even be his first time.
Even Brain was overly cautious against monsters who used corrosive
acids or deadly poisons. It made it hard to fight at his full potential.
Should I kill this guy right away…and support Climb? Would that actually
be good for him? Or would it just mess up his effort to help Sebas? Should I
step in and fight for him? No…if it came to that, Sebas would probably save
him. If Sebas doesn't seem like he's coming, then should I intervene? I never
thought I'd worry about stuff like this…
Brain gave his head a self-conscious scratch with his free hand and stared
down his opponent.
"Okay. You're gonna be a human sacrifice to make up for lost time."
Three blows.
Sebas charged, and before the men could react, much less defend, he'd
thrown three punches. That was the end of it.
Of course it was. Among all of Nazarick, Sebas was the most skilled in
battle, so he could defeat this level of assassin with his pinkie finger. He
shifted his eyes from the men crumpling to the ground unconscious, limp like
octopuses, and checked on the fight behind him.
Brain was keeping constant pressure on his opponent, so he didn't have to
worry about him. The assassin fighting him seemed to be searching for an
opportunity to run away, but Brain wouldn't let him, like he was toying with
him. No, rather than that, it seemed to Sebas like Brain was trying to remove
his own rustiness by testing out various attacks.
Come to think of it, I did hear something about making up for lost time.
And he must seem a little distracted because he's worried about Climb and
wants to be in a position to help him right away if need be. He appears to be
a fairly good person.
Sebas turned from Brain to Climb. Well, he's probably all right.
It was an unstable exchange of offense and defense. He was a little
concerned about the poison weapon, but it didn't seem like he needed to
jump in and save him immediately. It pained him to involve kind people in
his problems. But—
If he hadn't told me he wanted to get stronger, I would save him… Real
combat is good training. I'll step in if it comes to that.
Sebas stroked his beard as he watched over Climb's fight.
Climb parried a stab with his sword.
His back was drenched with cold sweat. A moment too late and his armor
would have been punctured. For a split second, he saw discouragement on his
opponent's callous features.
Climb thrust with his sword to put some space between them, but his
opponent's quick steps back and forth didn't let him. Climb generally fought
by blocking with a shield and then attacking with his sword, so using just a
sword was a mentally and physically taxing experience. The poison-drenched
blade was also a major source of stress. Since a mail breaker was a stabbing
weapon, he knew quite well that he had to worry about only thrusts, but still,
the idea that he couldn't get so much as a scratch made his movements more
conservative.
He reined in his erratic breathing, a product of his general exhaustion.
He's panting, too. I'm not the only one who's tired. His opponent's forehead
was also slick with sweat. He kept Climb at his mercy with his agile,
assassin-like fighting style. That was why if Climb could injure at least one
of his limbs, his advantage would be obliterated, and the balance in their
abilities would be disrupted.
One blow would decide the battle.
That fact was the true nature of the tension between them. Of course,
that's how it always was in a clash between equal powers, but it was
magnified in this encounter.
"Shi!" With a sharp exhalation, Climb struck. It was a small swing
without too much power behind it. He was worried about the potential
opening a larger swing would create if its target dodged.
The assassin, who easily avoided the swing, put his hand in his breast
pocket. Climb, anticipating the assassin's next attack, kept a close eye on that
hand.
When the dagger shot toward him, Climb batted it away with his sword.
He'd been lucky. He'd been able to repel it because he was paying such
close attention.
But before he could even sigh in relief, the assassin launched himself,
gliding toward him in a low posture.
Crap!
A chill went up his spine.
He had no way to defend against this follow-up. He'd swung too widely
when he'd batted away the dagger, perhaps because he was frightened. Since
his sword was still in the follow-through, he'd never get it back in time to
attack. He wanted to devote all his energy to evading, but the assassin was
too quick.
He was cornered. At least he could use his arm as a shield—
Climb had made up his mind when the assassin in front of him suddenly
put a hand to his face and leaped aside.
A pebble no bigger than a bean had nailed him right above his left eyelid.
Climb had been able to see it with his enhanced consciousness in these
extreme circumstances.
He knew even without turning around who had thrown it. As proof, he
heard Sebas's voice. "Fear is an important emotion, but you can't let it
constrain you. I've been watching for a while, and you're fighting too
monotonously. You're not putting enough into it. If you were really going to
sacrifice an arm, you would have died. If you're losing on the physical side,
then please win with your spirit. Sometimes the mind surpasses the flesh!"
Yes, sir, Climb answered in his head and was surprised to find himself
feeling calmer. It wasn't the entirely dependent relief of being rescued but the
comfort of having someone watching over him.
He couldn't entirely shake the fear that he might be killed. And yet.
"If…if I die, please tell Princess Renner—tell the princess that I fought
bravely."
He let out a long breath and slowly brought his sword back up.
Climb sensed a different kind of light in the assassin's eyes. It had been
only a short while, but had they come to understand each other as they risked
their lives in this battle?
His opponent, who sensed Climb's determination, also made his own
decision.
The assassin charged. It was only natural, but he closed the distance
between them in an instant, without a word.
Once his opponent had come into range, Climb brought his sword down.
That instant, the assassin jumped back. He'd read the speed of Climb's swing
and used himself as a lure to pull off a feint.
But he'd overlooked one thing.
Maybe he'd seen through most of Climb's sword techniques, except one.
The one move that Climb had confidence in, his overhead swing, was faster
and harder than all his others.
The sword came down on the assassin's shoulder, but the mail shirt
stopped it from cutting off his arm. However, it easily snapped the man's
clavicle, tearing through his flesh and breaking his scapula.
The assassin flipped as he fell to the ground. He was in so much pain he
was drooling, and he let out a soundless howl.
"Magnificent."
Sebas approached from behind Climb and casually kicked the assassin in
the stomach.
That was enough for him to go limp, like a doll. He'd probably lost
consciousness.
In the corner of his eye, Climb could see Brain, who had already defeated
his assassin, raising his hands to celebrate for him.
"Very well, now we'll begin questioning them. If you have anything
you'd like to ask, please don't hesitate."
Sebas dragged one of them over and jolted him back to consciousness.
Then he put a hand on his forehead.
It took less than two seconds. He didn't even push very hard, but the
man's head bent way back and returned like a pendulum.
And with that, the man's eyes had changed. Now they were unfocused,
like a drunk's.
Sebas began the inquiry. The assassin, who should have known how to
keep his mouth shut, blabbed everything.
Climb found the scene so strange that he asked, "What did you do to
him?"
"It's a skill called Puppet Palm… I'm glad it worked."
It was a move Climb had never heard of, but he was more concerned
about the leaked information itself.
He was an assassin trained by one of the Six Arms, the strongest members
of the Eight Fingers security division, and he had been tailing Sebas in order
to kill him.
Brain turned to Climb. "…I don't know much about the Eight Fingers, but
they're a pretty big criminal organization, right? They must have some
mercenary connections…"
"Yes, that's right. And the Six Arms is a name for the strongest members
of the group. I remember hearing that each of them is equal to adamantite
rank. I don't know who they all are, of course, since it's an underworld
matter."
Apparently, Succuronte, who had shown up at the mansion where Sebas
served, was one of the Six Arms and had the nickname "Illusion Maniac."
His plan had been to kill Sebas and take his beautiful master back with him to
do with her what he wished.
Having heard that much of the man's story, Climb was assailed by chills.
The source was Sebas.
He stood up slowly, and Brain asked, "What are you going to do, Sebas?"
"Now I know exactly what to do. First, I'll go get rid of the place at the
root of all these problems. He said Succuronte is there, too. It makes sense to
brush away the sparks before there's a fire."
His resolute answer made Climb and Brain catch their breaths. If he was
going to raid the place, that meant he was confident he could win against
people with adamantite-rank ability—the pinnacle of human strength.
Of course, it made sense.
He made swift work of those three assassins even though they were so
tough, and Sir Unglaus respects him. Who in the world could Sir Sebas be?
Maybe a former adamantite adventurer?
"…And he also said there are still others held captive. We should
probably act as soon as possible."
"Aha. If the assassins don't return, they'll know something is amiss, and
we won't be able to save the captives if they relocate them," Sebas
commented.
Letting time pass would put him at a disadvantage and give his opponents
the upper hand. That was Sebas's predicament.
"Okay, my plan is to march in there now. I'm terribly sorry, but I don't
intend to change my mind. If you two would please drag these two to a
guardhouse…"
"Please wait, Sebas! If it's all right with you, I'd like to go along and
teach these bastar—guys a lesson. Only if it's all right with you, of course."
"Me, too. As one who attends Princess Renner, it's a matter of course for
me to keep the peace. If any of this country's people are suffering, I'll rescue
them with this sword."
"…Unglaus may be able to handle it, but I think it might be a bit
dangerous for you."
"I know it'll be dangerous."
"Climb…I think he means you'll be in the way. Well, from Sebas's point
of view, we might both be in the way, but…"
"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried about you. I don't
want you to be misled into believing I would be able to protect you like I did
before."
"I understand."
"You and your master may not get any credit for what we're about to do,
you know. There is most likely a more suitable place for you to risk your
life."
"Averting my eyes from injustice because it's dangerous would make me
a worthless man unfit to serve my master. As much as I can, I would like to
reach out my hand and aid those who suffer the way she does." The way she
reached out to me…
At Climb's steely resolution, Sebas and Brain looked at each other.
"…So you've made up your mind, then."
Climb responded to Sebas with a single nod.
"I see. Then I will say no more. Both of you, please lend me your
strength."