But it stopped before touching her skin.
“Wha?”
Davis’s goat eyes widened, and a foolish, human sound passed his lips.
Ruti hadn’t used a sword to protect herself from the ax. Not armor, nor even the palm of her hand. She’d just pinched it between the pointer and middle fingers of her left hand.
Those two fingers alone had stopped the ax swung with the muscles of a demon.
“Someone could get hurt if you swing a weapon around,” Ruti said reprovingly.
“Gah, damn you… Hrrrn!”
Davis held the ax in both hands, his face turning red as he dug in and tried to pull it back. But it didn’t budge in the slightest from between Ruti’s fingers.
“I’m confiscating this.”
With just those two fingers, Ruti lifted the ax and Davis’s body along with it, then spun him around over her head.
“Eeeek!”
Letting out a pitiful shriek, Davis flew toward the back of the house.
He stood up, eyes wide, and then…
“…I’m so sorry,” he apologized, kneeling on the ground.
“I can understand things around you getting put off when you’re busy, but it’s important to understand and engage with your neighbors.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ruti was giving him a talking-to.
What she was saying was entirely reasonable, but a three-meter-tall goat-headed creature kneeling and slumped over in front of a girl like that was a pretty surreal scene.
“Please be careful in the future. This man here’s a professional when it comes to medicine, so he’ll teach you how to dispose of any waste,” Ruti said, pointing to me.
“Thank you very much,” he said, politely greeting me.
In terms of blessings, though, he seemed to be the real professional. Still, a blessing can’t teach you how to clean up after yourself.
“As long as you understand, then this matter’s settled.”
“Wait just a second there.”
There was a lot more that needed to be said here.
But Ruti just cocked her head.
So cute.
Instead, I decided to pick up the thread of the conversation.
“Umm, you’re Davis, right? Why do you look like that?”
“Correct, I am the alchemist Davis. Six years ago, I was a researcher in the Kingdom of Avalonia, but I was banished when I suggested researching into the ultimate invincible dark demon elixir after the demon lord’s armies began their invasion.”
“Ah, so the reason you look like that is because of that ultimate whatever-you-called-it elixir?”
“The ultimate invincible dark demon elixir. By drinking it, one can gain the strength of a devil. With this, we can fight on equal terms with the demons of the demon lord’s army.”
“Oh wow.”
“However, its success rate is just ten percent. Nine out of ten people who drink it die.”
“I’m amazed you took such a dangerous elixir!”
Did that mean nine people had already died?
“I am very sorry for causing any trouble. Six years after being banished and ending up here in Zoltan, I was simply excited to finally complete my elixir. However, I will be going to report the success of my research to the palace, so I shan’t be causing any more problems.”
“…If you report that elixir, won’t they hang you?”
“Hehehe, by my calculations, the demon lord’s army should be closing in on the castle right about now. They’ll have no choice but to rely on my elixir.”
Davis smirked devilishly with his goat’s head.
It was just so sad to see.
“This is hard to say, but…”
“Yes?”
“The war with the demon lord’s army is over. The alliance of humanity was victorious, and the demon lord’s forces have been crushed.”
“…Really?”
“Really.”
“What about the fruit of my six years of research, my ultimate invincible dark demon elixir?”
“I imagine it won’t be needed in an era of peace.”
Honestly, even during wartime, I doubt anyone would use something with a 90 percent death rate.
Davis slumped over.
What should I do?
“It’s all right,” Ruti said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’re strong, so you should try farming.”
“Huh?”
“I’m running a medicinal herb plantation. When you’re working in the fields, strength is must.”
“You’d have me out there plowing when I look like…like this?!”
“Mhm. I think you’d be perfect for it.”
Ruti gave a thumbs-up, her emotions fleetingly showing across her face.
“……”
Davis stared quietly at his furry arms.
“Plowing fields, huh?” he murmured.
This…had turned out to be an interesting little adventure!
Night, two days later, in a village near the border of the Republic of Zoltan.
The town was half a day’s walk from Zoltan itself, and travelers and merchants spent the night there on their way to the city. It was in a nice location along the road. If it were anywhere else, it might have become a prosperous town for lodging, but with only Zoltan at the end of the road, it couldn’t expect to get enough guests to build much of an economy around lodging.
As such, there was only one inn.
Ordinarily, it housed just a few traveling merchants and donkeys, but right now, it was bustling with some twenty guests.
Of course, there weren’t enough rooms for everyone. The inn had set out blankets on the floor in the hall for people to sleep on, but none of the guests looked unsatisfied.
Everyone was filled with joy now that home was in sight.
They were members of Zoltan’s volunteer force who had joined the war against the demon lord’s army. They raucously drank cheap ale and apple cider, sitting on the floor because there weren’t enough seats.
The innkeeper didn’t tell them off for being so loud; instead, he generously served alcohol and food to everyone. He stood up to change the candles, seeing the light starting to fade.
Just then, the door to the inn opened, and the wind blew in.
The candlelight flickered.
“Welcome. I’m sorry, but as you can see, we’re quite crowded today,” the innkeeper said, looking at the new arrival.
It was a soldier with a sword at his hip, wearing light traveling armor. On his forehead was a distinctive scar from an arrow.
“Harmon! You’re Harmon Pearlman!!”
The other volunteers rushed over.
“You’re alive! Thank God!”
Hands thumped him on the back and shoulders as Harmon was drawn inside, and a big mug of ale was placed in front of him.
“You were a volunteer, too, right? You did well to make it back! First drink’s on the house,” the innkeeper said with a smile, before going to change the candles.
Harmon looked down at the ale, then grabbed the mug and downed it in one big gulp.
“Look at you, all grown up!”
There was laughter and applause.
Harmon pulled out a silver from his pocket and put it on the counter, then poured himself a second ale from the cask.
“Where’d you spring up from? There’s only one road into town, so how’d you not run into any of us this whole time?”
The man who’d struck up the conversation with him looked around the room.
No one there had seen Harmon on the way.
“I flew in,” Harmon said with a smirk.
Even if he told them Taraxon had dropped him off nearby in a flying ship, no one would have believed him. Harmon could barely believe something like that existed himself.
“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re a ghost who just popped up here.”
“There’ll be someone missing come tomorrow morning.”
“That ain’t funny!”
Raucous laughter echoed around the room.
The inn was filled with joy at being alive.
But Harmon looked depressed.
“Why the long face? Actually, what happened to the guys who went to fight with you…?”
“They died. I have to let their families know when I get back to Zoltan…but it’s scary.”
“Ah… Yeah, it is.”
A solemn mood gripped the inn.
One of the biggest reasons why Harmon had taken the long way home with Taraxon and Bui was because he was scared of going back to Zoltan as the only survivor.
After leaving the previous Hero’s Tomb, the impromptu party had shared a breakfast together before disbanding. Harmon had discussed his situation as they ate, feeling sentimental after exploring the tomb of a great man like the previous Hero.
He’d told them how he didn’t have the courage to go home and that he was running away from his friends’ deaths…sharing these small, pathetic emotions he’d been hiding with four heroes.
They’d had nothing but words of encouragement for him.
“We all know you’re a brave man,” Taraxon had said, firmly gripping Harmon’s shoulders.
Bui, Yarandrala, and Baba Yaga all agreed.
The heroes had listened quietly without rejecting his feeble whining.
When he asked them for advice, they had thought about it seriously.
At Yarandrala’s suggestion, they’d given Harmon the compass used by the Hero, which they’d taken from the tomb.
“This compass doesn’t have any special magic power, yet it guided the Hero on his journey. That’s why I’m sure it will guide you home without fail.”
Looking at the hefty, old-timey compass Yarandrala had given him, Harmon felt courage well up inside himself.
Those heroes had called a man like him “brave.”
Harmon drank in moderation, knowing he would reach Zoltan tomorrow.
The man they believed in wouldn’t flee into his cups.
So he decided that’s who he’d be.
First thing the next morning, a soldier had come on a riding drake to spread the word that the volunteers were coming home, and people had gathered at the gate.
“We got the banner ready in time!!” Galatine from the Adventurers Guild shouted.
I was running behind him, holding up the other end of the banner.
“I can see people in the distance! Hurry!!” the captain of the guard, Moen, yelled from atop the watchtower.
“Red, we need to do this fast!”
“Got it!!”
Not slowing down, Galatine and I unfurled the banner and ran up a couple of trees near the gate. I quickly tied the banner to the tree, not forgetting to make eye contact with Galatine to adjust the banner so it didn’t droop.
“Perfect!”
Looking up from the ground, Mayor Tornado gave us a two-handed thumbs-up, and Galatine and I returned the gesture.
The banner was filled with kindness and joy, and simply said WELCOME HOME.
““Raaaah!!!””
A cheer rose, as even people at ground level started to see the figures walking toward the town.
“I can see him! Camus! I see my son!”
“Emilia! Thank God! Thank God she’s alive!”
“Big Bro!! Big Bro!!!”
The noise must have reached them, because the people walking in the distance started cheering and running.
It was an emotional reunion.
I quietly moved toward the back of the crowd.
I didn’t know any of the volunteers, but even so, I was glad to have been able to help set the stage for that reunion. Seeing the soldiers and their families hugging and crying made it sink in that the war was actually over.
“Harmon.”
Mrs. Cotton called out upon seeing one of the soldiers.
The man with an arrow scar on his forehead appeared visibly surprised, but he looked straight at the woman without averting his eyes. He slowly walked over to Mrs. Cotton and her husband, Lonsdale.
“Wh-what happened to your head?”
“An enemy arrow on the battlefield… I was badly injured, but fortunately I was saved by a nearby comrade.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
For a moment, the two fell silent, as if afraid of their next words.
“Harmon… Is Thomas not with you?”
The man handed her something wrapped in cloth.
Mrs. Cotton unfolded it with trembling hands.
Inside was a lock of hair and a silver ring.
“Thomas died four years ago.”
“Ah… Aaahhh…”
Lonsdale quickly supported Mrs. Cotton as she collapsed, but his face was also a mess of tears.
Thomas Pearlman was the name of their son.
Harmon was a cousin who’d looked up to Thomas.
“I’m sorry. I—I was the only one…”
“Thank you.”
“Uh, wh…?”
“Thank you for telling us. Thank you for surviving.”
“B-but I didn’t…”
They both hugged Harmon.
“Thank you for bringing our son back.”
Harmon gritted his teeth at hearing that. He squeezed his eyes shut, but even then, he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.
Everyone was crying.
I watched from a little distance away.
Their homecoming was filled with joy and grief…but there would be no more tragedies.
The war was over.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login