Chapter 10

Luxurious golden chandeliers were strung in a row on the ceiling that soared so high it could easily swallow a building or two.

“I have returned from battle with the Archlord.”

A massive round table occupied the center of the conference room. Upon it, golden candelabras and decorative daggers were piled high.

At the ornate table sat the leaders of the four races comprising the Allied Nations.

The Elven Queen, the Dwarven King, the Orc Great Chieftain, and the Human Emperor.

The Elven Queen possessed a beauty so pure and ethereal it was hard to believe she was over a thousand years old, and the Dwarven King had a beard as thick and bountiful as beer foam.

The Orc Great Chieftain was so large and rugged that he made onlookers instinctively flinch, his body covered in countless scars.

The Human Emperor had hair streaked with silver, falling long to his shoulders. He wore clothing befitting his title, and in his eyes was a brilliance that even the luxurious garments could not conceal.

“You have returned! Tell me, what of the Archlord…?”

The Dwarven King spoke first, sipping wine from a golden goblet as he addressed the Swordsaint.

“I missed him, but I managed to obtain some of his flesh and blood. I intend to provide this to the Blood Technicians to locate his hiding place.”

“Oho… finally! After three years without a single clue, we’ve found the rat’s tail.”

The Dwarven King raised his goblet, his booming voice filling the chamber, seemingly moved by the Swordsaint’s report.

“You never seem to know how to speak calmly.”

The Queen, leader of the Elves for over 3,000 years, glared at the Dwarven King and retorted sharply.

“Heh heh, you are as rude and without manners as always!”

The dwarf king simply chortled, a booming laugh sent towards the elven queen.

“Tch…”

The elven queen, regarding the dwarf king, clicked her tongue lightly, as if any further words would be wasted, and turned her head away.

“Why was he not killed? I received word that Grand Warlord Maltiel himself revealed his presence. Not just a variant, but him, personally. With your skill, it should have been an impossible situation to escape, no?”

The elven queen questioned the Sword Saint with her characteristic sharp and discourteous tone.

“My subordinates were in danger. Thus, I had no choice but to let him go.”

Her eyes sharp, exuding a regal aura, the elven queen led me and fixed her gaze on the Sword Saint, seated at the round table, and let out a soft groan.

“…Just to be sure, what was the number of these subordinates?”

“Five subordinates and one civilian.”

“Were they so strong that they needed to be saved over the death of the Grand Warlord?”

“With the exception of one… honestly, I cannot say that they were.”

“Then you made a foolish judgment.”

The queen’s venom was laced with unrestrained sharpness. A voice filled with annoyance chilled the vast meeting hall.

“Do you even realize how many continental citizens die each day due to the existence of one Grand Warlord?”

“…I, too, question this judgment. Those on the battlefield were also warriors. Warriors are those who willingly sacrifice their lives for the weak. They, too, would have wished for you to pursue the Grand Warlord, rather than their own safety.”

The orcish grand chieftain, who had been maintaining a composed silence while seated at the round table, offered a word of support from the side.

A sonorous voice, emanating from his heavy and immense form, filled the conference room in a different manner from the dwarf king.

The Sword Saint, as if troubled, rolled his eyes before letting out a sigh and finally speaking.

“…Well. Yes, I apologize.”

…?

Next to the Sword Saint, slumped as though on a bed of nails, I twisted to look, doubting my very ears.

Was that tone not a touch too light?

“Well, what can I do? I’m not that bright a man. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I just can’t walk past someone who needs help right in front of me. That’s all there is to it.”

The Sword Saint seemed utterly without shame for his actions.

Each leader of the races took their turn to berate him, calling his decision foolish, but his eyes did not waver.

“This is hardly something to brush aside so lightly! You let the Archduke slip through your fingers! You threw away a chance to save countless lives, and *that’s* what comes out of your mouth? I’ve warned you time and again that you need to weigh the gravity of things when you act!”

At his brazen attitude, the Elf Queen unleashed her characteristic sharp voice, but the Sword Saint didn’t seem to register it in the slightest.

“Well… It doesn’t always work out that way. My apologies. I’ll do my best to save as many people as I can.”

The Sword Saint gave a genial smile, dipping his head lightly to the Queen.

It was like watching a middle-aged man apologize to someone he bumped into on the street.

Apologizing in appearance only, with no hint of remorse, nor any intention of it – precisely the manner of middle-aged men.

“… I know your character well. But you are the one who holds the future of this continent in your hands. You must act with a broader perspective. On this occasion, I, too, must agree with the Queen’s words.”

The Emperor, having silently listened to the other leaders’ remarks, cautiously added his voice in support of the Queen.

“Ha! If you’re so dissatisfied, why don’t you go out there and fight in the Sword Saint’s stead?”

The Dwarf King was the only one to stand up for the Sword Saint.

“You…!”

“What, if you’re so unhappy with the Sword Saint’s choices, why don’t you go out there and shoot some arrows yourself?”

“Are you even serious right now?”

The Elf Queen stared at the Dwarf King, blinking as if genuinely dumbfounded.

“We’re only managing to stave off all-out war with the Demonic race thanks to the Sword Saint! Are you really going to pile on him for making a slightly too generous decision? Letting the Archduke escape is regrettable, of course, but! Does our Sword Saint deserve this treatment? The answer is no! Am I wrong?”

The dwarf king, with his characteristically gravelly voice, openly sneered at the queen. It wasn’t exactly behavior befitting a meeting of race leaders and the Sword Saint, but his words clearly struck at the heart of the matter.

“No matter how strong the Sword Saint is, humans are still just humans, aren’t they? To abandon subordinates when their death is certain if you don’t save them—isn’t that an inhuman demand?”

“There is validity in your words, but…”

The debate raged on, a storm of opinions regarding the Sword Saint’s decision to let the Grand Warlord go free.

Me.

I don’t know why I’m even here.

Can I just, like, leave?

“…Enough, let us continue this discussion later. The Sword Saint does not have as much time as we do.”

It was the human emperor who mediated the squabble between the race leaders. Since the conversation would clearly not be short, the story more or less concluded with the Sword Saint being dismissed, and they would then discuss amongst themselves further and formulate a plan.

“Today, there was one more matter on the agenda, wasn’t there?”

“Yes, didn’t I mention saving a civilian earlier?”

“And?”

“That civilian is the boy sitting beside me. Vin.”

“So?”

The elven queen glared at me with her characteristically sharp eyes.

The Sword Saint began to explain me to the four leaders seated at the round table.

As described through his lips, I was a genius, a street urchin who had never formally studied magic, yet possessed the mana of a 4th-circle mage.

And a genius with the potential to stand on equal footing with the Grand Warlord, despite only possessing the mana of a mid-ranking mage.

A super-duper genius of the century, whose magical completion and power were so great that the Grand Warlord himself had deemed it necessary to appear in person to deal with me.

…This is getting bigger and bigger, isn’t it?

“That the Archlord revealed himself… only to kill this boy?”

“For three years, the cunning b*stard didn’t leave a single trace, no matter what…”

“To think his magic was complete enough to be mistaken for a 7th Circle mage… Fascinating. There’s never been a case like this in history.”

“If what you say is true, this boy is undoubtedly a genius that will be etched into the annals of time.”

The kings seated around the round table began to regard me with eyes filled with something akin to interest.

I feel like I’m going to die.

Is this what it’s like to have dinner sandwiched between the heads of state of the United States, Britain, China, and Russia? My mind is a jumbled mess, and not a single word makes it through to my ears.

I… stayed damn still, yet again.

“Even if I were given the chance to turn back time, I would make the same decision. This isn’t just because of my values. It’s because I am certain that by saving this boy, he will save more people than the Archlord would have killed.”

*Bang!*

The Sword Saint, believing now was the time, struck the round table hard with his hand, his eyes flashing.

What the hell are you doing, you madman?

“You save anyone and everyone, regardless of their worth, don’t you? What was it last time? You chased after a variant to save some worthless private, and nearly let a high-ranking demon, one we needed to kill, get away?”

“Indeed, don’t try to bury your mistake by subtly bringing up the boy’s potential. Your judgment was clearly a misstep. A recurring one, a mistake you never correct. This matter will be discussed again later in the disciplinary committee.”

The Elf Queen and the Orc Chieftain saw right through the Sword Saint’s sly maneuver.

“…Well, yes.”

The Sword Saint clicked his tongue as if regretting his words and sat back down.

“Come on! Let’s not be so rigid! Even if the Sword Saint acted without much thought… like this! The result isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Certainly, if all that the Sword Saint says is true, this child will save countless lives in the future. Limitless potential, wouldn’t you agree? If, in the future, this boy reaches the level of the current Sword Saint…”

The Emperor trailed off, glancing sideways at the Sword Saint as if offering him a chance.

“This war’s tide will turn, I tell you! The Demon King, of course, and maybe even that damned devil spawn can be shoved back into hell where they belong!”

The Sword Saint, convinced this was truly the moment, slammed his hand on the table again with force.

“……”

At the Sword Saint’s words, the leaders began to stir, a low murmur spreading through the room.

The end of the war.

The death of the Demon King and the devils.

That long-awaited desire, beginning with the small, fragile, white-haired boy the Sword Saint had brought.

…The anticipation is so immense, my heart feels like it might burst.

“It won’t take him long to reach my level. He’s a blank slate, hasn’t learned anything yet, so at most, three years. Within three years, this boy will reach where I am. I refuse to let a genius like this slip through my fingers.”

Could he grow to the Sword Saint’s level? In just three years?

I’ve played this game countless times, and even with the best builds, it took at least ten years to reach max level.

In the real world, it had only been a month, maybe three weeks, but still.

‘…So, you’re telling me I have three years to become as strong as the Sword Saint?’

The Sword Saint’s party members were the best experts in their fields, but compared to the Sword Saint, they were insignificant.

The Sword Saint was, quite simply, like a weapon of human resolve forged by the gods themselves.

A joke circulated that if there were two Sword Saints, this wearying war that had lasted thirty years would end in three days. If there were three, the Demon King and devils would hang themselves and return to hell without a war even happening.

A mere three years.

In three years, I have to take a level 1 character and bring him up to almost level 90.

No rapid experience farming spots, no glitches or exploits to take advantage of.

Because this is a wretched reality.

“Grand General formally requests this. That the boy at my side, Sir Bin, be appointed as a formal General of the Allied Forces, and that his growth be supported in every way possible by the Empire.”

Study diligently, train relentlessly, cultivate painstakingly, practice endlessly.

In this mad world, that is the only path to becoming strong.

I must become humanity’s ultimate weapon, mk.2, in just three years.

“Truly, are you capable?”

The Human Emperor stroked his beard in thought, then asked me with a cautious voice.

“…Hoo.”

All I could do was steady my breathing.

And no matter how much I shout that I am not a genius, they would not believe it.

The Grand Master misunderstood me, that much is true. And it is also true that I fought against him and somehow managed to survive with all my limbs intact.

Clearly, no matter what I say to clear up the misunderstanding, they’ll just start making excuses of humility and whatnot, and bother me even more. Just like the Sword Saint did.

If I were to clear up the misunderstanding, what would happen then? I would be a homeless vagabond, sitting on the streets of the capital with nothing.

‘…On top of that, I have to remember that Maltiel is still after my life.’

Grand Master Maltiel will still be misunderstanding me as some magical genius.

Given his stubborn, paranoid, and terrifyingly cautious personality, he will surely return to try to kill me.

If I reveal the misunderstanding, that I’m just a ‘wizard with a strange build,’ I would have to start over like any other average wizard, with nothing.

Without the protection of the Sword Saint, without the support of the Empire.

…Probably, my head would be flying in three days or less.

So, in reality, I had no choice.

I had to exploit this misunderstanding to its fullest.

Since they seem to mistake me for a genius of the century, they’ll spare no expense in supporting my growth, both materially and otherwise.

With their wholehearted backing, I can advance my character at an unprecedented pace.

A risky misunderstanding, but the rewards are just as substantial.

“Well…”

As I steeled myself to speak, the image flashed before my eyes: a cart piled high with the corpses of soldiers.

The livid, bloated skin, the skeletal hands still clutching their weapons – so vividly etched in my mind.

“…What the hell.”

For me to present myself as some half-baked mage with a bizarre build would be an insult to their sacrifice.

Those who gave their lives for me in that forest, on that day, could not be remembered as ‘idiots who died in vain, mistaking a hipster with a weird build for a magical prodigy.’

I couldn’t tarnish the honor of those who risked everything to save a mage they could have easily abandoned on the roadside, a mage with no connection to them.

They had to remain ‘true heroes who rescued a talent destined to shape humanity’s future.’

“Let’s give it a shot. It can’t be that hard, right?”

And with those impulsively uttered words,

I decided to live as a genius from this day forth.