Chapter 34 – If you have the qualifications, it’s not arrogance.

“I’ll say this beforehand. I despise drawn-out talk. If you have something to say, just condense it and say it clearly. I don’t understand why you all go around and around.”

“I understand.”

“Honey Deus. I’ll tell you straight away why I sought you out like this.”

Yes, yes. Let’s hear it. I’m ever so curious, myself.

Like why you’d sneak into the Cradle in broad daylight, hooded like some bandit, and start a fight out of the blue.

“You absolutely need a mentor. That’s certain!”

“…?”

“But worry not. I will, in particular, take you as my disciple!”

“…??”

This is strange. Did we perhaps have a different conversation earlier?

Something about being stuck during training, and thus needing a mentor?

No matter how hard I think, I can’t recall such a thing. Not even a similar word was uttered, I’m sure of it.

“Excuse me, Shavel-nim.”

“Speak!”

“Perhaps… do you wish to take me as your disciple?”

—*Twitch!*

“Ha, hahaha! What is this nonsense! I merely thought that you seem to need a mentor….”

“I don’t need a mentor.”

A razor-sharp reply without a second of hesitation.

And once again, Shavel’s body *twitched.*

“Haha, hahaha. It’s not something to take so lightly. I know well. Even with great talent, walking the path is different. The help of one who has walked it before is sometimes—”

“I won’t accept a mentor.”

The romanticism of dual swords is charming, yes, but I don’t even use swords in the first place.

What use is a swordsman as a mentor to a guy who can only fight with his bare hands?

“Disciple? I’ll pass.”

“…”

Coldly, decisively, he delivers his verdict.

Shabel’s head droops, sinking low. After a moment spent like that–

“Why! Why! Why, tell me why?!”

As if something were deeply unjust. And a little frustrating, too.

Shabel, having jumped to her feet, keeps raising her voice, repeating, “Why!!”

“Why! For what reason! Won’t you become *my* disciple?!”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“But! Why! I, *I’m* offering to be your master?! Huh? Master! Your *master*?!”

“I said I don’t want to.”

No! That’s not enough! Not enough! I can’t accept it!

Shabel shouts wildly. Thanks to that, the hood she’d been wearing slips back slightly.

“…Eh?”

Wait a moment. What is this?

“I can’t understand! Why, why don’t you want to! How great am I?!”

“No….”

This is, unexpected. Deus sighs inwardly.

A world where abilities exist. However, everything visible is ‘human.’

He’d assumed it was a fantasy with only abilities and no other races.

—Perk!

“It won’t do! You must become my disciple!”

Each time she throws a childish tantrum, those pointed ears shoot up with her.

It’s not a subtle, barely noticeable point. They’re entirely different from human ears.

Which makes him all the more certain. The true identity of the ability user, Shabel.

‘Kkan—’

No, more like…

“An elf?”

As if sensing the bewilderment in Deus’ voice,

“Ahem. Yes. Now you know the truth about me.”

Her ears twitching repeatedly, Shabel pokes her chest.

“I am of the Forest Clan. Humans call us elves.”

“Elf…!”

This really is a fantasy! Of course! A fantasy wouldn’t be complete without elves!

“Our Forest Clan is a race with a glorious history and a time-honored tradition.”

“Ooh.”

So, an elf, but also a *Kkanpeu*? Possessing the mindset that they’re the best…

“Although, at present, we’re a withered old tree. Even if you gathered all of my kin, we wouldn’t even number a few tens of thousands, a species on the verge of extinction, you know.”

“…”

Never mind the *Kkanpeu*. They’re quite self-aware, these ‘elves.’

“Say now. You only realize I’m an elf *now?*”

“How would I know, when you’ve been hiding under that hood the whole time?”

“Don’t play coy. You were fighting me. No, you must have sensed it from the moment we met. If you’re as skilled as you seem, you’d have picked up on it then, wouldn’t you?”

…Ah. Could that inexplicable feeling I had back then have been…?

That inexplicable cleanness. Like the scent of a refreshing breeze.

“See? You knew all along.”

Shabel smiled, continuing.

“All the more reason for you to become *my* student. That sense of yours needs to be sharpened. And only someone with more experience can help you with that.”

“Your persuasion isn’t entirely without merit.”

“Oho. Then?!”

“Still not becoming your student.”

“Ah, why! Why! Why why why!!”

Elf-ssi. Please, just abandon that ridiculous stubbornness.

Is it really right to cling to someone who says no and whine like a child?

Actually. Before that. How old *are* you, acting like that?!

“Why are you so insistent that I become your student?”

“Would you actually do it if I told you the reason?!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Tch.”

Shabel plopped down on her seat, gesturing toward Deus.

“My disciple.”

“Luciel-sunbae, you mean.”

“Yes. I’ve heard you’re supporting his dream. His romanticism.”

Could *that* be the only reason? Just that? Deus wore an expression of bewildered disbelief.

But Shabel’s expression was more sincere than ever before.

“Don’t belittle it. Don’t call it ‘just that.’ Someone who can wholeheartedly support another’s romanticism without ridicule or doubt is, in the end, someone who also possesses a similar romanticism.”

“…”

“Do you know why *I* support my disciple’s romanticism? Because he’s my disciple? Because he’s a swordsman? Of course, that’s part of it. But that’s not the whole story. It’s because *I*, too, dreamed such a foolish dream. A romanticism no one could understand.”

Deus knew instantly what that romanticism was.

The leather case that had been following Shabel around like a shadow from the very beginning.

And resting carefully inside. Her two swords, like her other self.

“From ancient times, our forest clan was skilled in magic and archery. Thus, those two became what defined our Elven race. But at some point, those became the only acceptable paths.”

“…”

“I loved swords. And among them, wielding two swords. Dual blades were so beautiful. So I wanted to achieve that. As an elf, not magic, not archery, but swords.”

The story that followed was one everyone could have predicted.

The other elves didn’t understand Shabel. But Shabel didn’t give up.

As her skills steadily improved, she even awakened her unique ability.

Her affection and romanticism for dual blades had stubbornly reached that point.

“That’s what romanticism is. In the end, it’s inefficient. It’s frustrating when you know the reason. To those who can’t understand it, it always seems like something is lacking. But those who dream of it can never give up, no matter what. Running with all their heart, focused only on that one thing.”

“…”

“He who champions that harbors his own sort of romance. I wish to see, the romance you possess. The romance of this youth called Deus. And if possible, I wish to help.”

Because he who first embraces romance, who first strives for it,

is ultimately the only one who can offer what the first achiever of that romance can.

“…Lady Shabel.”

“Indeed. Does my proposal finally pique your interest?!”

“I have a question.”

“Oho! Pray, speak!” Shabel’s eyes gleam with expectation.

“How is it that someone who can be so earnest also acts so… unhinged normally?”

Of course, Deus had just tossed her expectations into the gutter.

“W-what! I am always earnest!”

“Has the meaning of the word ‘earnest’ changed without my knowledge?”

What absurd nonsense.

“So you still refuse to become my disciple.”

“Yes.”

“Hmph! What a wicked fellow! Hmph!!”

Hmph? Hmmph?? Just how old are you? If you’re over a century old, I might have to throw a punch.

“Perhaps… Will you not reveal the reason?”

“…”

“Hmph! If you don’t wish to answer, then don’t! You churlish knave!”

That was originally my intent, but it seemed like she would latch on and never let go.

So, Deus hastily fabricated a reason.

One that Shabel, who knew romance and strived for it, would have no choice but to accept.

“I will forge my own path, alone.”

“…Foolish words. Even I do not act so.”

Shabel shakes her head, dismissively.

“Strength and duty are separate things. And they must remain so. No one knows my capabilities better than I. Yet, I always prioritize my duty first. Alone, you will be slower. More endangered. And that also applies to the Gate and monster disposal….”

“I can fulfill my duty, even alone.”

“That is called arrogance. You will eventually be defeated by the very thing known as fate.”

Arrogance. Arrogance, you say. Come to think of it, there was a line related to that, wasn’t there?

Wasn’t it what the protagonist said in ＜The First Day at the Mercenary Corp: The Gate Opens＞?

“Then I shall use my arrogance to laugh even at that fate.”

“…?!”

Ugh. So cheesy. Should I not have said that? I really do regret it.

Well, now. What did this rascal just say? Wow. That romance is insane!

Shabel desperately tried to appear indifferent.

But in her heart, she was repeating ‘Insane! Truly insane!’ over and over.

One who seeks to end all things with only their own two hands.

To banish this long night, and the trumpet’s call will ring in the dawn.

That alone. Is the highest romance a man can possess!

‘The arrogance of one who is qualified, is no longer arrogance.’

*Haa.* Fine. I’ll admit it. This, I must admit. Shabel breathed out a sigh.

That man. That romanticism. It was something even *she* couldn’t dare to harbor.