Chapter 56

One week.

Yes, I had a reprieve of one week before my dispatch to Valorrland.

Veteran mages would use this time preciously. Researching any imperfections in spells they’ve developed, purchasing new robes or trinkets, preparing grimoires.

…And how am I spending it, you ask?

Firstly, I’m striving to extract myself from the shock of it all.

“…”

Valorrland.

Even in this wretched medieval age, it’s an overwhelmingly dreadful place.

The Sword Saint’s party, having located Grand Duke Maltiel’s traces, led a massive force to invade the land known as ‘Valorrland’, where Maltiel’s stronghold resided.

Bell Artua, hailed as the strongest mage and pride of the Flame School, and Grisha, the saintess of the Astella Order, a war heroine who saved countless lives from death’s door with her formidable healing abilities.

An elite force of 20,000 strong, spearheaded by these two heroes.

Every single soldier boasted skill surpassing that of Rex; this operation, launched by the Empire’s finest, seemed perfect – as most operations do – until the unforeseen variable detonated.

‘Who would’ve imagined three Grand Dukes would arrive as reinforcements?’

Maltiel, aware his location had been compromised, laid a trap in Valorrland, one step ahead.

Consequently, the army led by the 9th Circle mage Bell and the saintess Grisha were ambushed by not one, but four Grand Dukes the moment they set foot in Valorrland.

Mutants crawled up from beneath their feet, and mutants rained down from the sky.

They lost half their infantry on the first day alone.

The two heroes and their soldiers, suffering devastating damage from the Grand Dukes’ coordinated assault, dug trenches, established front lines, and fought back.

As if mocking the soldiers desperately defending the front, the Grand Dukes retreated behind their mutants, smiles playing on their lips. Bell, Grisha, and their subordinates were too overwhelmed just maintaining the current front to pursue them… and thus, a terrible localized war began.

Having achieved success with the surprise attack, the Grand Dukes now lurked in hiding throughout Valorrland, only sending their mutants to wear down the Sword Saint’s party and the soldiers.

To that land, where once twenty thousand had marched, now remained but four thousand soldiers.

Yet, with four Grand Lords revealed, surrender was not an option.

This current phase of Valorland was nothing short of hell, where spirits and lives were ground away in meaningless skirmishes.

“…Haa.”

The ceaseless tide of Variant masses, the soldiers fueled by fury, wielding blades and shields, unable to sleep or eat – they flicker before my eyes.

“Ah, damn, I really don’t wanna go…”

The very words “desertion” surfaced, with utmost seriousness, in my mind.

With my current stats, surviving a battlefield teeming with four Grand Lords seemed utterly impossible.

But even if I fled, how far could I truly get? In this pathetic body, I’d collapse from exhaustion before even escaping the capital, that much was certain.

And even if, by some stroke of luck, I slipped past the capital unnoticed, then what?

The Mazoku would know the moment I broke away from the city, alone, and they would hunt me down, seeking my death. I’d resist for maybe five minutes before my magic faded, leaving me unconscious.

Then, upon waking, I’d be treated to the sight of my own body, horrifically mutated.

“Haha, shit, I’m screwed.”

In the end, the best option left to me was to head toward Valorland. Arrive there, and somehow fight the Grand Lords with Bell and Grisha on my back.

…The more I consider it, this choice doesn’t seem quite sane either.

“Let’s think positive.”

Isn’t playing Russian Roulette with an automatic pistol more reasonable than playing it with a revolver?

Desertion is a guaranteed death, while heading to Valorland is ‘a suicide with a sliver of potential survival’. If I had to pick one, choosing the latter would be the logical choice.

To put it in perspective, it’s like hanging yourself with a rope that’s been rotting in a warehouse for twenty years.

You slip your head into the noose and just pray the rope snaps.

“Haa…”

Tap. Tap.

A sigh escaped me, my head still pressed against the desk. Then came a knock, so faint you’d miss it if you weren’t listening closely.

“Yes… I’m here…”

Only one person I knew knocked like that. I answered without bothering to lift my head.

“Um… Mister Bin?”

Lir entered, a worried look on her face as she saw me slumped at my desk.

Unlike her usual self, wrapped head-to-toe in robes and a hood, she was wearing a simple, thin dress.

It was plain white, without frills or lace, and stitched in places with clumsy handiwork. She must have torn off any fancy ornamentation herself.

Considering her shy nature, simple, unadorned clothes suited her far better than any showy dress that might draw attention.

“…What’s wrong?”

She wore a floppy hat of the same white fabric. The blonde hair peeking from beneath the hat, combined with her fair skin, gave her an air of elegance and refinement.

Lir looked like the cherished daughter of some noble house.

Usually, I’d compliment her on how well it suited her… but I wasn’t in the mood.

Right now, I felt like a pig being led to the slaughter.

“What’s wrong, you ask? Maybe it has something to do with being dragged off to the battlefield next week?”

“You seem awfully listless, though. You’ve always completed every mission without a word.”

“…”

The reason I went on expeditions to the Dragon’s Nest and the Akiliptus Forest without complaint—no, the reason I volunteered to go in the first place—wasn’t some sense of duty as a soldier.

It was because a substantial reward awaited me there.

The crimson crystal would bolster my utterly lacking basic attack, and the blessing of the spirit would both elevate my peak potential and reinforce my very survival.

In this era, where people drop dead like flies every other day, the ability to cultivate the strength to protect oneself is a considerable merit.

But what about Valarrand?

There, there is nothing.

Materials for crafting the rangers’ endgame bows may drop, but that’s it; those who nurture mages, it’s practically dogma that they don’t even set foot in this region.

Though following dogma now is as foolish as it gets, in any case, from the perspective of one born a mage, there’s not a single reason to tread the perilous land of Valarrand.

“It’s an order, we have no choice. Still, we’re soldiers, after all.”

Lir lightly stroked the back of my head, which was buried in the desk, as I slowly raised it.

…It felt like being comforted by a cousin, and the sensation wasn’t particularly pleasant.

“You’re awfully nonchalant. Considering we’re about to go to a living hell.”

“Well, Bin-nim is with us. I’m sure he’ll handle it.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re being dragged to a living hell yourself.”

Ninety-nine percent of the time, Lir will suffer even more than I will.

If she were to realize, even now, that I can only use one spell, would a sliver of tension crack that carefree demeanor?

Should I just spill it all? Reveal who I really am?

“It doesn’t matter, be it hell or wherever. Somehow, I feel like Bin-nim will figure something out.”

“No pressure.”

Lir lightly tapped my crown with her palm, and a small smile played on her lips. Because she was so weak, my head tilted forward slightly each time she tapped it, only to slowly return to its original position.

“Well, that’s that. How about we drop by the city together? You slept all day yesterday.”

“…Did you have something you wanted to buy or something?”

“There are things to buy, sure, but we should eat too.”

How can she be so carefree, really?

Does she have some kind of trump card hidden up her sleeve? Can I trust you and just relax too?

Unless she has a special move where her hair spikes up and rays shoot out of her palms, I can’t imagine being this calm in this situation.

“Well… fine then. There’s no point in just moping around, locked up here, anyway.”

I got up and threw a light jacket over my t-shirt and cotton pants. It was a fleece jacket, but crafted by dwarves, so it was unbelievably light, even on my delicate shoulders.

Rirr followed me, never ceasing to pat the crown of my head, right up until I stood and put on my coat.

A faint humming escaped her, she seemed rather cheerful.

At this point, I was beginning to suspect she was just plain out of her mind, not just calm.

“Where are you planning to go?”

I asked, swatting away her hand, which was still reaching to tap my head, forcing me to stand on my toes.

“…?”

Her humming ceased the moment I grabbed her wrist. A frown immediately creased her brow.

“…”

What is with her? She’s suddenly serious just because I stopped her from patting my head…

“You said you’d look into things.”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t forgotten, have you? That you were buying me a meal?”

It was as if a cold wind was blowing from Rirr’s face. For some reason, a shiver ran down my spine, and the hairs on my arms and legs stood on end.

…I politely released Rirr’s wrist and took a step back.

What now, I supposedly offered to buy him a meal?

Him?

When?

“…….”

“…….”

Three seconds.

A brief, frigid, weighty silence descended for three seconds. Never in my life had I experienced such heavy, brutal quiet.

“Ah, of course I remember. Why so serious? Can’t even crack a joke anymore.”

I must survive…!

Right now, a faint instinct for self-preservation is screaming louder than ever.

“When did you say you’d treat me?”

Rire scrutinized me up and down with a dubious gaze, then fired the question straight to the core.

…It’s as if songs of Chu are ringing from all sides. My mouth is parched, cold sweat trickles down. I can feel my breathing faltering, my pupils faintly trembling.

“A little disappointing you have to ask. Testing the trust between us, are we,”

*Kkwak…!*

Rire’s slender fingers pinched my cheek.

“Ah! Really, really hurts. Ah, wait! Hey, hey!”

With the grip of a vise, I thought my skin was about to be ripped clean off.

Elves were a race specialized for Rangers; their thumbs and index fingers, used for drawing bows, possessed a strength three or four times that of ordinary humans.

Never imagined I’d realize that fact quite like this…

“Ah! Ah, I remember! I remember now!”

First, I have to survive…!

“You’re, you’re lying again!”

Lyr, as befitting an elf, had a good eye. Enough to grasp whether I was lying or not by watching the movements of my pupils.

This is bad.

There’s no escape.

* * *

Lyr, until the very end, wouldn’t tell me when I’d promised to buy her a meal.

Judging by her expression and tone, I thought she wasn’t just making things up… but still, it would be nice if she’d at least tell me when I supposedly said that.

Anyway, the carriage, with Lyr and me aboard, sped along for quite some time before arriving at a bustling district.

Lyr didn’t say a word inside the carriage.

She seemed angry… but the moment the carriage arrived at the busy street and the aroma of bread and coffee filled the air, her sharp demeanor quickly softened.

“What would you like to eat?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Then, coffee and bread?”

“Please, a place that also sells tea. Coffee doesn’t agree with me.”

I’ve never actually had coffee in this body, but if I dared to put it to my lips, I was sure to experience caffeine shock.

No joke, I might actually die from caffeine shock.

I’d rather not be used as the subject of a sensational article like, ‘Unprecedented Genius Mage Dies of Cardiac Arrest After Drinking Coffee, Shock…!’

“I don’t really know this area either, you know? You were supposed to figure out a place, Bean-nim…”

She grumbled, turning her head, letting her gaze drift over the shop signs and menus lining the street.

“What kind of bread are you thinking of? They say the sliced bread here is quite popular.”

“So cliché. Sliced bread is what I eat every morning. We’re out, might as well try something new.”

“Then… corn bread?”

“Doesn’t really grab me, no.”

“Well, maybe we should forget bread altogether? What about over there? They make noodles with flour, apparently? And the owner’s a dwarf, so the skill is guaranteed…”

“Flour’s not good for you.”

“…Bread is flour, you know?”

“All the same, not good for you.”

“You said anything was fine.”

Lirr glared at me with a look that said she sincerely wanted to rip my cheeks apart.

“Anything that I like is fine.”

Wasn’t the word ‘anything’, as used by the one paying for the meal, a short and sweet abbreviation of ‘anything that I like’? Did I really have to spell this out for her? Absurd.

The difference in common sense between a medieval person and a modern one tripping me up again…in a place like this!

“Then go ask some of the people walking by what’s good around here.”

“You go ask, Lirr. I’m the one paying, after all.”

“How am I supposed to talk to strangers…? Sir Bin, you’re saying some really strange things.”

“…?”

It makes sense for me to talk to strangers, but it doesn’t make sense for you to talk to strangers?

“Fine, fine. But in exchange, there’s one place I want to go. If you find out what’s good around here, you have to come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“A music shop.”

Last time, I couldn’t make it to the music shop due to getting caught up in a senseless ruckus. This time, I absolutely have to buy a piano or guitar and bring it into my room.

The past two months had been a fierce sprint of building credentials and pretending to be a genius, so I was under a considerable amount of stress.

Even a genius needs leisure time and something to entertain himself, right?

With this body that can’t enjoy cigarettes, alcohol, or even coffee, the only form of entertainment I can indulge in is music.

“Alright, just hurry back, I’m hungry.”

“Hungry? It’s barely past eleven… Didn’t you eat breakfast?”

“…….”

Rire furrowed her brow and, instead of answering, placed her thumb and index finger on my cheek.

“No, sleep… what? Is there something on my…”

Despite my frantic voice, she paid me no mind and pressed down harder with her thumb and index finger.

“Ah! Ah! Why! Why are you doing this! At least tell me the reason before you start pinching!”

She remained silent even through my desperate plea, focusing solely on pinching my cheek.

The people around us, seeing Rire’s attire, assumed it was the usual scene of a noble tormenting a commoner and paid little attention.

…This era is truly trash.