Chapter 78: I Dream of Something Grabbing Me by the Scruff of My Neck

“You’ve been watching.”

I had experienced the idea of memories remaining in objects or places before, but this was different.

This memory was undoubtedly something the sword had seen.

—You alone are unworthy of wielding me.

A voice echoed.

—Even if you prepare yourself to sacrifice something precious. Even if you offer your own life as collateral. I will not permit you.

“…….”

After those words, only the sound of the wind remained, growing louder and more hollow.

I couldn’t tell if the voice had actually resonated from the sword or if it was merely an auditory hallucination.

The voice cut off abruptly.

As I stepped back from where the sword had been, the old man who arrived next gripped the sword and remained bowed for a while, mumbling as if offering a prayer.

“Unworthy, huh.”

On what grounds did it conclude that?

I grew curious.

But it specifically said you were not allowed.

As if it were identifying me specifically.

And it refused even sacrifice or the offering of my life.

If what I heard wasn’t a hallucination or a mistake, it was a clear expression of rejection.

“…….”

I moved to a desolate cliff, a place where one could look down upon the village and where no listening ears would be present.

Immediately after reaching this void of a place, which felt like the edge of a precipice, I asked.

“What do you think?”

—I wouldn’t know.

An indifferent and irresponsible response, as usual.

“The fact that it rejects me means it’s expressing that refusal based on some knowledge, doesn’t it? And… why is the sword speaking?”

—If something is dwelling within it, that might happen. Or perhaps something came to dwell in it. Haven’t you heard of such things existing occasionally?

Not the answer I wanted.

Nor an answer that resolved my curiosity.

“…Am I the one who has to find the answer? No. I’ve wasted my breath asking something that doesn’t need asking.”

—If you know, then use your head. Maybe the stakes aren’t high enough? Or maybe you haven’t met the required qualifications? There are many reasons. As always.

Who was it again that urged me to obtain this thing?

I exhaled the rising irritation and remained in that spot for a while.

‘Qualifications.’

What does that mean?

More importantly, what is that sword so dissatisfied with that it rejects me?

…Let’s change my perspective.

The reason for the rejection.

Or the purpose.

It had been held in Grandeus’s hand and used until the very end; with his death, it was liberated from that duty.

Liberation.

Or was it a parting, or a bereavement?

Does it mean the only master it recognizes is him?

But if so, the premise is strange.

‘You alone are unworthy of wielding me.’ That’s what it said, right?

Those words imply that someone can wield it.

Does that mean it is rejecting Kariel specifically? Is that the meaning?

Or is it waiting for a true master or companion?

Having been stuck for nearly twenty years, is the sword still looking for an opportunity?

For someone with the proper qualifications to arrive?

Perhaps in a few years.

Or decades. Maybe only after more than a hundred years will the desired being visit this place.

Does that mean now is not the time?

“…….”

If so.

Is it appropriate for me to simply accept that story and leave this place, this spot, in loneliness?

Then what? What comes next?

What is left for me?

‘Nothing.’

No, there is one thing to do.

Hiding away somewhere to build my body and the process of firmly mastering what I’ve acquired.

But.

By doing that, could I truly contend with my father?

With just that.

Could I defeat those who hate and despise me?

Could I carve out a life for myself, without any humiliation or submission, without any regrets?

The answer is no.

Especially in this situation, where I’m filthily entangled with things like the Demon King.

I don’t think Alessia would have put herself in a difficult position by leaking this.

…No, even if she did, I don’t intend to resent her.

In the end, revealing it was my own choice.

I must fully bear the consequences of that choice.

Even if she comes to oppose me because her mind changed upon hearing he is the Demon King.

…That would be inevitable.

That is why, even when I learned through Philbar’s letter that this news was spreading everywhere.

…I didn’t particularly suspect her.

Because there was no need to suspect her in the first place.

Then, let’s change the premise.

If not her, then who?

Someone overheard the words I spoke?

That is a possibility.

But if I exclude even that?

“…….”

What if there is someone who knows my circumstances without me realizing? Or a specific person?

Right here.

That damned bastard who discussed the prophecy immediately comes to mind.

But it’s not him.

Venus.

That guy is a blade and a sword sharpened to the limit.

Therefore, he is not the type of person to be insidious, calculating, or flexible enough to plot such a conspiracy.

“The answer is.”

Precisely when the answer is most desperately needed.

The answer hides deep and rarely shows its face.

Furthermore, if one does not think, agonize, or even prepare.

One will be manipulated or drift according to the intentions or purposes of another, whether it be fate, destiny, or someone’s will.

Such a state.

A puppet, a slave.

A prisoner who has lost their freedom, or whatever it may be.

Regardless of which it is, the state and position one is placed in are not much different.

“The answer was obvious after all.”

—What is it?

“…If I were the type to obediently listen just because a piece of steel rejected me, I shouldn’t have struggled in the first place. I should have just quietly accepted fate or whatever, lived moderately, and died moderately.”

Do not hand over your fate to others.

Entrusting it is even more absurd.

It is a very obvious truth.

And yet, despite being told by some damned bastard that the sword wasn’t his, what did Venus boldly spout?

Did he say he’d just kill the bastard who pulled the sword and take it?

A truly clear answer.

It is an idea so simple that it is almost absurdly far-fetched.

But because of that, it is closer to the truth.

“…….”

Of course.

I had no intention of trying that.

On the contrary.

If you ask if I should cling piteously to someone who clearly hates me.

…I chose to fight, to resist, and to oppose because I find that absolutely repulsive.

I didn’t grip the sword.

…To submit and obey.

I didn’t push for that damned contract of my own volition.

“I will stay until tomorrow.”

If it doesn’t enter my hand even after tomorrow passes.

“…Then, I will be the one to reject it.”

—That’s unexpected. You had the option of not giving up until you won its heart or gained the qualifications.

“Do I look so relaxed that I can afford to be optimistic?”

There is no time.

This wasn’t a metaphor; it was the reality.

My situation is not so leisurely that I can wait peacefully without the awareness that I am being hunted.

Someone could pop up today to do something about me.

And.

If news regarding my whereabouts has reached the upper echelons of the Empire in any way.

“Whoever it is, they’ll be on their way.”

If Elhermina truly intends to hold onto me this time.

Would I be able to escape her grasp?

However, the risk of her appearing in person is far too great, no matter how I think about it.

In that sense, the Empire is overflowing with talents who can act as agents of her will.

No matter who among them comes, would I be able to shake off their unfair proposals?

And in the worst-case scenario.

…If you, Father, were to arrive.

“…….”

A laugh escaped me unconsciously.

If we were to reunite in such a manner.

I wondered how we would even begin a conversation.

It was somewhat intriguing.

But on the other hand, along with cold sweat seeping through my skin.

I am engulfed in an absurdity that feels like it’s strangling me, as if I have to squeeze out whatever courage I don’t have.

The moment we face each other, unless he unilaterally gives up.

Escape or departure is impossible.

There are absolutely no other answers.

The result is so obvious that it’s almost amusing.

“Certainly. Looking back, I really don’t have any time.”

Even if that sword were to be gripped in my hand.

…It would be meaningless if I faced you, Father.

Of course, I wouldn’t die.

But the moment I am unilaterally dragged along by his intention.

I would have to face everything again.

All the things I had abandoned and given up with my resolve and terrible state of mind.

I absolutely cannot endure that.

What was the reason I shook off Elhermina’s indiscriminate coercion and pleading back then?

“…….”

I have not yet been able to throw anything away.

I haven’t overcome it, nor have I even prepared myself to face it.

Therefore, I cannot face them now.

Even if only to support myself, as me.

Because they are still.

The wounds and scars located in my deepest and darkest parts.

And my most terrible nightmare.

Even now.

…I dream of them grabbing me by the scruff of my neck.

====

The woman rummaged through the corpses strewn across the plain.

In any era, rummaging through corpses is a deed deserving of a curse, but as long as you aren’t caught, it’s fine, isn’t it?

Moreover, since she was the one who turned those who were living beings into corpses and remains, her movements were even more unrestrained.

“Is it this?”

Pale platinum blonde hair and blue eyes that were clear and almost transparent.

Her fair skin was reminiscent of a fairy’s, and her appearance was so refined that she could be compared to them.

A sharp bridge of the nose.

Thinly lined lips.

Her eyebrows and the shape of her eyes were perfectly proportioned, and even without expression, her appearance was extremely neat, like a well-crafted stone statue or a piece of art.

Her platinum blonde hair was barely long enough to tickle her shoulders.

Perhaps because she found it unpleasant to have hair fluttering around her eyes, her bangs were cut particularly short, barely touching her eyebrows, which further emphasized her clean and neat impression.

Such a woman pulled a piece of leather paper from the chest of a man who looked particularly sturdy, wrapped in layers of leather and chains.

“Deerskin paper, is it?”

Depending on the region and country, the durability and use of paper vary wildly.

Within the Empire, there are several paper-producing regions, so it’s used commonly, but that’s their situation.

She carefully examined the contents, rolled the deerskin paper back up, tied it, and tucked it inside her purple cloak.

“If a request was accepted even by these scumbags… is this some kind of bounty hunt?”

There is a specific person tasked with the capture, but just in case, they spread manpower to act as hands and feet in various places.

Naturally, this requires an astronomical cost, so it is not a method anyone can attempt.

“Still, it’s a relief there’s no other significant content.”

“Why are you talking to yourself so much?”

“You startled me.”

Her words reacted as if she were surprised, but her tone was flat.

A man with a wolf’s head asked, stroking his thick brown fur.

However, the fur below his jaw was white, not brown; perhaps because it was partially stained with dust, ash, and blood, or perhaps because it was so white, it felt quite dirty.

“Are you here? How was it over there?”

“How was it? Same as everywhere else.”

The wolf-man gestured toward the corpses lying beneath the woman.

“The scale is pathetic for a mercenary corps.”

“This area isn’t a war zone. If you want to find a renowned mercenary corps, you should look in conflict zones or active theaters.”

“…What if I go there now and the battles and wars are all over?”

“That’s why the latest information is important, isn’t it?”

As she smiled brightly, the wolf-man let out a careless, hearty laugh.

“So, is looting these guys profitable?”

“Of course. Just disposing of the equipment would be worth several years of a serf’s income.”

“Of all things, why is the standard a serf?”

Whether to laugh or argue at this.

“It’s a fitting punishment for sinners, and I make extra income from their equipment and belongings. I’m claiming the full price.”

“…It would be a blessing if the corpses don’t wake up again out of resentment.”

“Then I’ll just kill them again.”

For something said with a smiling face, it was incredibly chilling.

There was no malice, no hostility.

Yet, the fact that she could commit such killings without batting an eye meant she was quite twisted.

Furthermore, if that twisted being also possessed outstanding skill?

That is truly nothing short of a disaster.

“That Somern Village over there? What’s there that all these mongrels are flocking to? Isn’t it about time you told me?”

“Are you curious?”

As she smiled with her eyes while shaking the tied deerskin document, the wolf-man snatched it, pretended to read it, and asked.

“…What does it say?”

“It says the degenerate son of the Great Hero is there, and if his person is secured, a generous reward will be given. That’s the gist of it.”

“Great Hero. Are you talking about the Nine Heroes? The child of one of those bastards?”

“Yes.”

The wolf-man whistled.

“Did a princess or prince come here? To this place? Why?”

“I wouldn’t know. And… it’s not the Golden Bloodline, but the Bloodline of Radiance.”

“Bloodline of Radiance? That… huh? No way?!”

“Yes. That’s right.”

She smiled brightly.

“The Knight of Radiance. If it’s his child, it’s obvious who it is, right?”

“…The one who was called a heaven-sent genius in childhood but grew up to be an unparalleled degenerate? That one?”

“Who knows. Rumors are bound to be exaggerated.”

“Ases. Are you perhaps aiming for that too?”

The wolf-man asked with a serious face.

Ases. She opened her vivid blue eyes and smiled.

“Hardly. If anything, it’s the opposite.”

“Huh? Opposite?”

“Gehven. To make a fortune, one must move in the opposite direction of others.”

Before long, dwarves and Beastmen pulling carts arrived and began rummaging through the corpses, sorting and packing useful items.

The corpses were stripped bare in an instant, returning to their primal state.

The rest would be handled by the beasts wandering or circling the area as their territory.

And the woman watched the scene, as if enjoying it.

At a glance, she looked young enough to be mistaken for a girl, but.

“And. It’s not as if I have no connection to that side.”

With an ambiguous smile, she spoke as she received the reins of a horse brought by a grey rabbit-headed Beastman.

“If things go well, you’ll be able to make a decent profit. I guarantee it.”