Chapter 9

The sun hung high overhead. The brighter light only served to render the devastation in sharper relief. The stench of blood still saturated the air.

Soldiers, having taken a brief respite, were stirring from sleep, among them Rex, who had lost an arm.

Rex’s wound had been cauterized to staunch the bleeding. Proper antiseptic was not to be found on such a battlefield; it was an unavoidable choice.

In the end, five soldiers had survived the previous battle.

The Sword Saint had kept watch throughout the night so that the soldiers could at least find a little peace in their rest. No simpleton would dare challenge the walking continental power that was the Sword Saint.

Rex and his soldiers, they gathered the shattered pieces of the wrecked carriage, crafting a crude cart. There, with care, they began to lay the bodies of their comrades.

Rex, grinding his teeth, plucked each arrow from the crimson Herion’s body. To Balder’s face, melted by poison, he gently tore strips from his own clothes, covering it.

Of the thirty-odd soldiers, a mere five survived, and even they were in dire straits.

An orc who lost his arm, a soldier who cut off his leg, infected with poison, another burned nearly beyond recognition…

“You’ve all suffered grievous wounds, making it difficult to fight as soldiers any longer. I’ll speak to the higher-ups on your behalf. After all, it was this unit that discovered a lead on the Archduke.”

The Sword Saint, noticing the soldiers’ grim expressions as they looked upon the cart, now piled high with the corpses of their brothers, gently patted their shoulders.

“…What are you saying?”

Rex spoke, his jaw cracked from clenching too hard.

“Their lives all rest on our backs. If we retire now, what becomes of those lives? I, at least, will not retire until the Archduke we faced yesterday is dead.”

Blood trickled from between Rex’s lips. In his eyes, fixed on Balder and Herion, tears threatened to spill at any moment.

On the shoulders of this massive orc sat more than twenty specters. His eyes burned with fury, his arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, unable to contain his resentment.

Rex felt a revulsion towards his own inadequacy.

He had failed to properly protect the men who trusted and followed him.

Even the protection of the white-haired boy had come not from him, but from the Sword Saint’s timely arrival on the battlefield.

All he had accomplished was a desperate, close-run victory against a disgustingly large variant, a victory bought at the cost of an arm.

‘I am weak.’

Never before had he felt that truth so acutely.

‘…I am truly, terribly, disgustingly weak.’

Five minutes of agonizing realization.

Rex’s eyes, once brimming with rage, now flickered with the bitter sting of disappointment in his own impotence.

The Sword Saint met his gaze, and then slowly nodded.

“The moment one realizes their weakness… is also a ripe moment to grow stronger.”

The Sword Saint slowly reached inside his coat, withdrew a short dagger, and laid it upon the neatly arranged corpses.

“A dagger blessed by the Saintess. It shall guide the souls of the departed to Astella.”

It was a ritual dagger, shaped like a cross.

The blade’s tip was blunt, offering little in the way of practical lethality – little more than a decoration, truly.

“May Astella watch over you.”

* * *

I assessed the situation, then followed those bowing in reverence, inclining my head as I saw the cross-shaped ritual dagger resting on the pure white blanket.

The battlefield had been far too chaotic; to be honest, I didn’t fully grasp what they had done.

But one thing was certain.

Since the start of the tense standoff with the Grand Warlord, not a single volley of poisoned arrows, nor any other mutant attack, had come my way.

It was likely thanks to them, sacrificing themselves as they wrestled with the mutants.

Had the Grand Warlord’s mutants interfered in the duel between him and myself, I surely would have met the same fate as those fallen.

“……”

They could have abandoned me.

The moment they realized I was the Grand Warlord’s target, had they made a swift decision and fled, most of the soldiers would have likely survived.

They had no obligation to protect me.

To them, I was merely a nameless mage of vagrant origins, someone they’d simply given a ride in their carriage because we shared the same destination.

Yet they drew their swords, bravely roared, and pressed their blades against the mutants.

The honored soldiers, without a sliver of hesitation, had thrown their lives away for a magician whose name they didn’t even know.

They must have known that their courage would drive them to their deaths.

…A tangle of emotions weighs heavily on my shoulders.

People die, get hurt… change.

This place is real.

The stench rising from the corpse cart seemed to remind me of that fact, relentlessly.

“Boy, we should be moving along.”

The Sword Saint waited for me to finish my silent bow, then spoke in a quiet voice.

“Are you leaving already?”

“Yes, I have many things to take care of, so I must go ahead. I’m afraid I won’t be able to accompany you all the way to the capital. My apologies.”

“You must be busy, but thank you for guarding us, even for this short respite.”

“Give your thanks to this one instead. Because of him stalling for time, we were able to save at least five.”

Finishing his words, the Sword Saint grabbed my clothes and hoisted me up like some kind of doll. My withered arms and legs dangled in the air.

“…Thank you, Magician. Just one last request.”

Lex looked at me with reddened eyes, opening his mouth carefully.

“Please, ensure our deaths were not in vain by surviving as long as possible. Survive long enough to unleash your talent to its very limit.”

The red hand clutching the handle of the corpse cart trembled. His back seemed to hold a complexity of emotions that couldn’t be expressed in a single word.

“Become a magician so great that we can proudly tell our dead comrades that we sacrificed our lives to protect a magician talented enough to overturn the world.”

“…”

I couldn’t bring myself to look directly into Lex’s reddened eyes.

I could not confess, ‘I am not the talented magician you believe me to be.’

“…Well then, we shall be on our way.”

Rex, without waiting for my farewell, bowed once more to the Sword Saint, then slowly began to pull the cart laden with corpses towards the capital.

The cart rumbled, a mournful sound as it departed the forest, now only ash and clots of blood remaining.

I simply stood there, blankly watching them disappear into the distance, towards the road.

“…”

…It was the first time I had seen human corpses in such detail.

I had seen them when I was first born into this place, but back then, it hadn’t registered.

But now.

It was unsettling, nauseating, and even though they were strangers, a sorrow simmered within my chest.

Was it irritation? Anger?

I didn’t know precisely what the emotion was. I felt confused.

“…Boy?”

I was in a favorite game, using magic according to a peculiar build I had created.

When Blooming activated, I felt nothing but joy. It was like…playing a game with an impossibly vivid VR rig.

After the duration of Blooming ended and I opened my eyes inside the barracks, I was somewhat surprised.

Because I felt the pain of my broken arm.

Even then, however, I didn’t recognize it as reality.

Perhaps because the appearance of everything around me perfectly matched the in-game models. Maybe subconsciously, I was considering what was happening to be an illusion.

That all of this was a fantasy or a dream… and that when my character lost its life, I would wake up in my cramped one-room apartment and continue another day, like any other. That unfounded expectation was lodged somewhere deep within my heart.

But such a flimsy, complacent hope utterly vanished the moment I laid eyes on the corpses of the soldiers who’d shared my day.

The unseeing eyes of those soldiers, who had willingly thrown their lives away to protect me, still seemed to flicker with fighting spirit. Their hands clutched shields and swords they couldn’t bear to relinquish, veins still taut in their necks.

That they fought desperately in the forest to protect me and stand against the Variants was reality, and that they lost their lives in that fierce battle was also fact.

‘This is reality.’

Where people die in an instant,

where they swing swords and thrust spears at monsters to protect each other, a filthy and wretched reality.

“…What is the boy’s name?”

If I hadn’t accepted this reality, I would have introduced myself by the ridiculous nickname of my character, ‘One Shot’.

Because I had thought of this world as a ‘game’.

But it’s different now.

This is a damn reality, and the white-haired boy standing here isn’t a character, but ‘me’.

“My surname is Kyung, and my name is Bin.”

Kyung Bin. I told the Sword Saint my real name. I don’t know what meaning it holds, though.

“Bin Kyung. Speaking your full name feels like addressing a noble.”

I must live in reality. A deeply cruel and dangerous one, at that.

“You can just call me Bin, if you’re comfortable.”

I had to assimilate completely into this world.

Because with a complacent and clumsy mindset, one cannot survive in this harsh world.

* * *

Until thirty years ago, this continent was divided into four camps.

Centered upon the colossal empire forged by humankind, westward lay the Elves, eastward the Orcs held their ground, and in the north nestled the kingdom of Dwarves.

Though daily disputes arose from petty territorial squabbles and trade imbroglios, the advent of the Demonic horde and the peril threatening the continent’s very survival compelled the leaders of each race to unite their lands, forming a vast coalition.

After protracted deliberations, the kings of each race acclaimed the human king as Emperor of the Allied Nations.

For the Elven Queen possessed a pride too fierce and a nature too domineering, the Dwarven King knew not the meaning of earnestness, and the Orcish Chieftain was, for all intents and purposes, utterly ignorant of matters political beyond the military.

Furthermore, the human empire held a vast territory at the continent’s heart, and their numbers so eclipsed all other races combined that their military might, born of sheer population, was overwhelmingly superior.

And so, at the very center of Estterdam, the Allied Nations’ capital, stood a gargantuan fortress encompassing a total area of 120 square kilometers.

…120 square kilometers, the castle, that is? Not the area including the walls, but the area of a single building measured 120 square kilometers.

Gangnam District covers 40 square kilometers, and this castle alone is 120 square kilometers.

Reading this passage in the setting compendium, I’d thought, “They’re just spouting whatever comes to mind,” and, “Does this game company even understand how big 120 square kilometers really is?”

I vividly remember scratching my belly in my room, scoffing, “Well, what else can you expect from a liberal arts major?” since I assumed the compendium writer was one…

That insane castle.

It now sprawls before my very eyes.

“…What in the world is this?”

It resembled less a building and more a colossal mountain range.

The sheer size of the ramparts encircling the castle rivaled, and surpassed, most mountains, and the main gate was grand enough for even a dragon to pass through with ease.

And, not even two minutes after parting ways with Rex, the Sword Saint and I stood before the main gate of this ludicrous citadel.

How did we cover a distance that would normally take three days and nights by carriage in a mere two minutes, you ask?

…The Sword Saint simply picked me up and ran.

Swiftly.

Through the air itself.

… Truly, with a goddamn blinding speed.

When I asked him why he was running through the air, the Sword Saint replied that running on the ground would hurt the deer-like animals or the trees.

The intent of my question was, ‘No, but how can a person run through the air without using magic?’ …

It seems that, for him, the sky is perceived as a place one can run.

Perhaps it is my fault for expecting common sense from a monster who single-handedly sways the tides of war.

“You have returned!”

“And who is this you’ve brought with you!”

The Sword Saint lightly scaled the fortress wall and arrived at the massive main gate, where the guards stationed there greeted him with a loud salute. Despite the sudden appearance of a person falling from the sky, they showed not even a flicker of surprise.

Probably because it wasn’t the first or second time.

“This boy is my guest. I wish to introduce him to the representatives of each race immediately. Can you summon a meeting? If I ask, they will comply swiftly, as I must also deliver a report regarding the Archduke.”

“…Now? You mean right now, sir?”

The guards scrunched their faces, questioning if they had misheard.

“Inform the Emperor that I’ve found a wizard worthy of joining the party, and the meeting will be summoned quickly.”

“…Sir?!”

…?

I furrowed my brow, watching the Sword Saint spout madness with an impassive expression.

What in the hell did this guy just say again?

The event to become the Sword Saint’s party member is a very late-game event that only unlocks when your character level is at least 90.

An event that appears right before the game’s ending, where you go with the Sword Saint to defeat the Demon King and his devils,

But why the hell is that event coming to me, a level 1 throwaway wizard?

“I-I shall inform them of this at once!”

The guard, glancing between myself and the Sword Saint, seemed to belatedly snap to attention and hurried past the gate, disappearing from sight.

I… I simply stared blankly at the Sword Saint’s face.

The situation had shifted so drastically, my brain simply couldn’t keep pace.

“It might be a burden, but I believe you possess the greatest talent as a mage in history. I can say that with certainty.”

A burden.

A burden, you lunatic.

And aren’t you no mage either? How can a man who can’t cast magic be so sure?

“The Grand Warlord, Maltiel, whom you fought, is among the strongest of the Grand Warlords. Even 7th Circle mages couldn’t last five minutes against him. But a mage who faced such a powerful Maltiel evenly is… what? Not even 7th Circle, but 4th Circle?”

“…”

“Imagine it. What will happen when you grow and become a 5th Circle mage? What will be possible when that training accumulates, passing 7th, 8th Circle, and reaching 9th Circle? You are young, you could even become the first mage to break the wall of the 10th Circle.”

Hmm.

Yes. I’ll be able to use an unbelievably strong Bloom, if that happens.

For five minutes, I’ll be truly powerful.

For five minutes, that is.

“…Madman.”

My brain, having gone slightly haywire, caused me to utter the word I was thinking without realizing it.

“If you still lack confidence, then simply trust my eyes. I have a remarkable eye for talent.”

But this deranged fellow, as if oblivious to my insult, simply smiled and lightly patted my shoulder.

“Crazy b*stard.”

I downgraded this madman, who wasn’t bound by the frame of common sense, to just plain mad, then pressed my temples with both hands and sighed.

…Maybe it would be better to stop thinking.

Because my brain just couldn’t comprehend this insane situation.