Chapter 100.5: Excessive Pampering?·The Massacre in the Sword Village
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As Ash, Fern, and Frieren traveled quickly through the harsh blizzard, Frieren gradually drifted into a comfortable sleep.
Occasionally, she would open her sleepy eyes and mumble softly, guiding Ash with a lazy but trusting attitude through the storm.
By late morning, a village hidden deep within the mountains slowly came into view.
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It was supposed to be just a simple village, yet this snow-covered settlement exhibited a scale and level of defense far beyond expectations.
The village was encircled by a sturdy stone wall, not particularly tall but impressively solid, giving it the appearance of a miniature fortified city-state.
Numerous stone watchtowers stood within the perimeter, evidence that the residents placed great importance on safety and had taken meticulous precautions.
As the three approached the village, the howling wind and snow gradually subsided. To avoid drawing unnecessary attention or creating misunderstandings, Frieren and Fern tacitly dismounted from Ash's back.
Crossing a small bridge, they passed through the city gate guarded by several hunters clad in sturdy, weathered clothing. A little girl with pink hair soon appeared before them, her clear eyes sparkling with curiosity and innocence, brimming with interest in these three strangers.
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"You've finally arrived, Lady Frieren." The little girl stood on tiptoe, as if trying to make herself appear taller. Spotting Ash, her expression turned to one of surprise. "And… Master Ash! You're still alive after all. Welcome back to Sword Village!"
"…What? You know me?" Ash asked, scrutinizing her familiar-looking attire. "Wait, are you the current village chief?"
"Yes, I am the 49th generation village chief… It's hereditary," she said proudly. "And your magical image is hereditary too! It's always displayed in the village hall."
After bowing respectfully, she turned to Frieren with a faint pout. "Lady Frieren, you're so excessive! You said you'd return in fifty years, but you never showed up. Master Ash, on the other hand, came by twenty years ago and helped us so much. Thank you!"
"I was just passing through. Don't mention it," Ash replied nonchalantly.
"Even so, you were amazing!" The young chief's admiration was genuine. "You were much more reliable than Lady Frieren. If you weren't older and already had a husband, I'd want to marry you! Really, Lady Frieren is just too much!"
Her sudden, odd remark left Fern dumbfounded until she added with a playful smile, "Those were the last words of the previous village chief—my grandmother."
"Oh, I see…" Fern sighed in relief, patting her chest.
Frieren, who had been subtly criticized by the previous chief's words, looked entirely unbothered. "Well, I did say I might come back eighty years later. That's still within reason."
"But an agreement is an agreement!" The young chief puffed her cheeks in frustration before pointing at Ash. "Master Ash came without any appointment! Why couldn't you do the same?"
"As a village tasked with guarding the Hero's Sword for generations, you should be more than capable of protecting yourselves, no?" Frieren replied coolly.
"Even so, a promise is a promise!" the young chief exclaimed, clearly exasperated. She turned to Ash with pleading eyes. "Master Ash, can you please do something about her?"
"It's pointless," Ash replied with a wry smile. "If her laziness could be fixed, it wouldn't have lasted this long."
He crouched down to gently pat the head of the young chief, offering a kind but resigned expression. "You should give up on chasing something so futile."
It was difficult for Ash to explain why he had come to the village before—especially since his true intention had been to test the holy domain barrier that protected the holy sword.
Fern, who had been quietly observing, couldn't hold back her curiosity. "Master Ash, what agreement are you talking about? What exactly is this village?"
"Oh? You don't know?" Ash replied casually. "As Frieren mentioned earlier, this is the village that guards the Sword of the Hero. In the sanctuary—well, actually a nearby cave—there lies the Sword of the Hero, said to have been bestowed by the goddess. That sword attracts monsters, who fear it and seek to destroy it. Frieren had promised to return here half a century later to check on things."
"But the last person to come was you, Master Ash! As expected of you—so kind and dependable!" Fern beamed with pride, as if Ash's actions were a reflection of her own good judgment.
However, after a moment of reflection, her expression shifted to confusion. "Wait a second... Master Ash, I remember something different."
"From the past to the present, countless heroes have tried to draw the Sword of the Hero, but none have succeeded," Ash explained, his tone matter-of-fact.
"No, no... In the stories I've heard, wasn't it the brave Himmel who wielded the Sword of the Hero?"
"That's just a fabrication," he replied bluntly.
"...What?"
"People in power like creating legends, so they invented a perfect version of Himmel. It's that simple."
The stark contrast between the story and the truth left Fern momentarily speechless, unsure of the purpose behind such fabrication.
Frieren, meanwhile, glanced at Ash with an amused smirk. "I have to admit, it's surprising you came here specifically to protect this village. Could it be that you've taken a liking to the village chief?"
"When I arrived, the village chief already had one foot in the grave," Ash replied dryly.
"But wasn't I rather attractive in my younger years?" came a playful voice from the young village chief, watching the exchange with interest.
"Indeed," Ash admitted without hesitation.
The moment he said it, Fern, who had just been praising him, turned to glare. "Master Ash—!"
"I was joking, don't look so terrifying." Ash sighed helplessly, then turned his attention back to the pink-haired village chief. "Anyway, there have probably been more monsters around here lately. Since I'm already here, I'll help clear them out."
"Thank you, Master Ash! Just as my grandmother always said, you're so kind and gentle!" The young chief's face lit up with joy as she rushed forward to hug him.
Ash returned the gesture, patting the girl's head affectionately. "Good, good~"
The scene might have seemed heartwarming, but Fern, standing nearby, broke the mood with a cold remark.
"Master Ash, while I don't think it's likely... I need to confirm something."
"Huh?" Ash raised an eyebrow, his posture becoming defensive as he positioned himself slightly in front of the young chief. "What's with that scary look?"
"You're not… interested in children, are you?"
"…What?!" Ash froze, his expression turning incredulous. "You think I'd do something weird just because I was being a little friendly? Have I ever given you a reason to suspect me before?"
"Well…" Fern hesitated, recalling their shared past. "You were cold to me when we were younger, but you were always gentle when it mattered."
"Don't twist things out of context," Ash shot back. "Even now, I haven't exactly been cold to you, have I?"
The peculiar argument between Ash and Fern seemed to amuse Frieren and the young village chief. They observed with great interest, as if it were some kind of entertainment.
However, their lighthearted exchange was soon interrupted as they arrived at the cave known as the sanctuary for the Sword of the Hero.
A large number of wolf-like monsters had gathered near the cave. The moment they noticed the group of outsiders, the monsters immediately began to encircle them.
"…Since Lord Ash likes the village chief so much, you can handle everything here by yourself," Fern said, her tone sharp as she pushed him forward, clearly still upset.
"Kids these days, honestly... Ah, well."
Ash sighed in resignation, but as soon as the wolves charged, he dashed forward without hesitation.
Fern, despite her outward nonchalance, couldn't help but prepare her wand in case she needed to intervene. However, before she could lower it to cast a spell, the scene unfolding before her left her utterly speechless.
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Ash didn't even bother to draw his sword. Like a cannonball, he launched himself at the wolves, relying solely on his fists and feet. It was as if the monsters were no more than shadows to him.
The wolf-like monsters, known for their coordination and ability to terrify even seasoned adventurers, were reduced to fragile paper dolls. With every swing of his fists, skulls shattered, limbs snapped, and bodies crumpled as though made of glass.
The disparity in power was staggering. What should have been a vicious battle looked more like a casual game played by an unchallenged giant.
The overwhelming force quickly crushed the morale of the demon wolves. Any resistance they tried to muster was futile, and even their attempts to howl in defiance were silenced instantly.
Those fortunate enough to escape Ash's immediate blows abandoned the fight altogether, scattering into the wilderness with terrified whimpers.
It was the first time Fern had ever seen monsters flee so desperately.
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Perhaps this was the most striking difference between a magician and a warrior.
Magicians, while capable of devastating large-scale attacks, were inherently fragile, with their bodies as delicate as porcelain. A single misstep or well-timed strike could expose their vulnerability.
But top-tier warriors like Ash? With magic coursing through their bodies, they became living fortresses, impervious to blades, spears, or even the crushing jaws of dragons. For monsters, there was no opportunity to exploit, no weakness to exploit—just the certainty of destruction.
To Fern, there was only one word to describe the scene before her: massacre.
As demon-like creatures, the wolves left no corpses behind when they perished. Only the traces of the battle remained—the disrupted snow and torn earth bore witness to what had occurred.
The pristine white snowfield had become a chaotic mess of scattered debris, though even the blood that splattered from Ash's blows faded into nothingness along with the wolves themselves.
It was as though none of it had ever happened. All that remained was a peaceful yet disordered snowfield.
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"—Oh! That was amazing! Really amazing!"
The young village chief clapped her hands enthusiastically, her pink hair bouncing with excitement. Her innocent admiration contrasted sharply with the gruesome battle she had just witnessed.
"As expected of Master Ash! It was incredible! Even better than the legends!" she said with an admiring smile, her voice filled with childish awe.
"…The differences between worlds are staggering."
Ash's gaze lingered briefly on her beaming face, a ripple of thought stirring in his heart.
If children in the 21st century witnessed such carnage, they would likely be horrified, breaking down in tears. Yet here, in this harsh world, it had become a feat of heroism, worthy of celebration in a child's eyes.
Perhaps it was the constant danger in their environment that shaped their admiration for power. Here, strength wasn't just respected—it was a necessity for survival, even for children.
Before Ash could dwell further on the thought, the ground beneath his feet suddenly darkened.
Fern's voice rang out, sharp and urgent: "—Above! Watch out—!"
But before she could finish her warning, Ash was already moving. He turned sharply, his body twisting mid-step, and in a flash, his blade was unsheathed.
The moment Ash drew his sword and the moment he sheathed it were so swift that neither Fern nor Fern could follow the movements. All they could perceive was a translucent slash erupting from the blade, instantly cleaving a towering, wolf-like beast—over ten stories tall—cleanly in two.
The massive creature didn't even have time to emit a dying howl. Its enormous body, severed in half, crashed to the ground on either side of Ash, propelled by the sheer force of his strike.
Boom!
The two halves of the beast smashed into the earth with a deafening rumble, sending a cascade of snow and debris into the air. The impact was so powerful that Fern lost her balance and fell to the ground.
In the center of this awe-inspiring scene, with snowflakes swirling through the air and blood raining down on either side, Ash turned calmly and walked back toward the group as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
His composed expression made the overwhelming feat appear almost mundane. The speed of his attack had been extraordinary, far outpacing even the fastest spellcasting.
From start to finish, it had taken less than a second. The swiftness of the event left Fern stunned, unable to catch her breath, let alone fully process what had just unfolded.
"Is this Lord Ash's true strength...?" Fern murmured, her voice filled with awe.
For a moment, she simply stared blankly at the familiar figure walking away, her heart overwhelmed by a mixture of disbelief and reverence. The shock she felt was beyond words, and it took her a long time to regain her composure.