From Old Country Bumpkin to Master Swordsman: My Hotshot Disciples Are All Grown Up Now, and They Won’t Leave Me Alone - Volume 5 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: An Old Country Bumpkin Surmounts a Wall

“Hup... There we go.”

Several days after returning to Beaden, I left the village to enter the Aflatta Mountain Range to investigate the saberboars’ current state. The mountains were relatively tall, and the path into them was rather harsh. Even if things were perfectly peaceful, it would be backbreaking to climb this area for a picnic or something. We were ascending the mountains to investigate an overabundance of monsters, so it was pretty exhausting.

“You two okay?” I asked.

“Yes, this climb isn’t unreasonable.”

“I can totally keep going!”

“Ha ha, just what I’d expect.”

Henblitz and Curuni were currently accompanying me. I wasn’t intentionally working them hard, but they’d come along on my return to Beaden knowing what my objective was, so I figured they could pick up some slack.

Either way, despite a march through such mountains being a rare experience, the knights seemed to be fine—they were living up to the reputation of the Liberion Order. Besides, they must’ve gone on expeditions to all sorts of places. I wouldn’t go so far as to claim I was used to mountainous terrain, but I had decent experience from growing up in a village right next to one. Anyone who could keep up with me and have stamina to spare was plenty impressive.

“I’d like to reach our objective within the day,” I said.

We weren’t in the Aflatta Mountain Range to defeat the saberboars or anything. It would be unrealistic to try and hunt a specific monster in this ridiculously vast mountain range without any prior investigation.

Our only objective today was reconnaissance. Ideally, we would get extremely lucky and find the saberboar pack. That was far too optimistic an outlook, though. The weather was supposed to be stable for another two days, so I wanted to get the preliminary inspection done in the meantime.

There was no way we would figure everything out on a single trip. Luck was indeed a factor. We couldn’t explore the mountains nonstop for an entire day either, and I absolutely wanted to avoid being in the Aflatta Mountain Range after sunset. That would definitely end in disaster.

“Are we certain about the weather?” Henblitz asked. “Not that I’m doubting you, but still...”

“Yeah, not a problem,” I told him. “My mom’s forecasts are pretty much never wrong.”

“That’s rather impressive...”

The reason we’d chosen to enter the mountains at exactly this time was because it’d been determined that the weather would remain calm for a while. The one who’d made that call had been my mom. She hadn’t done anything special—it wasn’t like she could use magic. However, for some reason, she was capable of figuring out the weather for the next few days by examining the sky. I’d heard her mysterious weather forecasts ever since my childhood, and she’d never gotten it wrong.

Naturally, she was sometimes slightly off—maybe she would predict that a cloudy sky would hold but a light drizzle would come down or vice versa. Regardless, when she said there would be clear skies, it never rained. And if she said it was going to rain, it wasn’t going to be a sunny day. I couldn’t remember a single instance of her being wrong.

According to her, she somehow knew based on sight, smell, and the sensation of the air on her skin. Her accuracy seemed abnormally high. Still, her forecasts were a big help to everyone in Beaden, so no one was going to nitpick about it, but the more we heard about it, the more mysterious this ability seemed.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the same special skill, so it was more of a personal trait than a hereditary one. Well, in all likelihood, my good eyes had come from my mom rather than my dad. He didn’t have bad eyesight or anything, but he couldn’t hold a candle to my mom in that regard.

“Look, droppings,” I remarked. “Hmm, they’re closer than I expected.”

“Are those saberboar feces?” Henblitz asked.

“Probably.”

After walking for a while with such thoughts in mind, we found some dark brown balls scattered around an area of sparse vegetation. I wasn’t a biologist, so I couldn’t say for sure that it had come from a saberboar. Still, I could at least see whether it was from a carnivore or herbivore—even if we were well within the mountain range, finding a carnivore’s feces this close to the village was a bad sign.

During my past hunts, it’d been rare to find any traces so quickly. Normally, it would take several days to maybe find something like this. Wild animals and monsters were generally very good at hiding. The animals here, except for the apex predator, were always on the hunt or being hunted. And at least within the Aflatta Mountain Range, saberboars weren’t at the top of the food chain. If I had to guess, they were somewhere slightly above the middle.

Taking that into consideration, finding traces of their presence so easily was a little unusual. I could think of three possibilities on the spot: a pack of saberboars or some other similar carnivore had their turf somewhere in this area, the pack had gotten big enough for them to come this far down the mountain, or the mountain’s ecosystem was in the middle of collapsing.

The first possibility wasn’t really a problem. It was a threat, but we had gathered enough of a force to eliminate it. The second was an issue, but manageable as long as the pack wasn’t too large. The third would definitely be bad. I didn’t think that could happen so quickly, but if it was, things would get out of control.

At present, I couldn’t say for sure which answer was right, but I prayed it wasn’t the third case. If the ecosystem of such a vast expanse of nature was collapsing, a small gathering of humans wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. So, I discounted that possibility for now. If we had more circumstantial evidence, it would be a different matter, but there was no point worrying about it now.

“Hmmm... It hasn’t decomposed yet, so it doesn’t seem that old,” I observed, turning some droppings over using a random branch.

The feces were very stiff but hadn’t turned into soil yet, so they couldn’t have been here that long. It was highly probable that one or more animals were somewhere close by. I could see why Randrid thought the scale was relatively large this time around. It would’ve been a trivial matter for him to patrol the area surrounding the village between lessons. Maybe he’d even gone into the mountains on his own.

“What else is out here other than saberboars?” Curuni asked.

“Well...”

That was a pretty hard question to answer. There were endless varieties of animals in such a large mountain range, many of which I knew nothing about.

“I guess there’s a bit of everything,” I said. “You won’t see goblins and the like, though.”

“Wow...”

In terms of animals, there were deer, boars, and bears. As for smaller critters, there were surely rabbits and weasels too. However, when it came to monsters, small species like goblins were pretty much nowhere to be seen. Some worm-type monsters popped up every now and then, but they weren’t really threats.

The Aflatta Mountain Range was vast, but it wasn’t thick with greenery. It wasn’t exactly barren, but the Azlaymia Forest was far denser—it was a mature woodland everywhere except for the routes adventurers used. This was probably because of the mountains’ elevation and climate. Or maybe the soil here simply didn’t have enough nutrition for an abundance of trees.

Anyway, the mountain range’s ecosystem was certainly different from that of a plain or forest. That was why goblins, the quintessential small monster, couldn’t be found here. Not that I really wanted to be reminded, but griffons were far more common in this kind of locale. There weren’t many eyewitness accounts of them near Beaden, though—it would be a major problem if griffons were spotted with any frequency.

“I must say, you seem rather accustomed to marching through the mountains,” Henblitz commented.

“Not really. I guess it’s just this area specifically,” I replied. “I happen to have a rough idea of the terrain here.”

I wasn’t really doing anything impressive. I’d just hiked through this area frequently over the years to deal with saberboars, do some hunting, or even just test my skills, so I happened to have some familiarity with the local geography.

I wasn’t, however, going to foolishly let my guard down because of that. A single misstep on a mountain could mean immediate death. This area wasn’t that far from Beaden, plus I had a decent grasp of the terrain and an extremely accurate weather forecast to rely on. My success here had nothing to do with me being impressive.

“Found some...” Henblitz muttered cautiously.

“Hm? Where?”

“To the right. Not many, I think.”

The creatures native to the Aflatta Mountain Range were generally ferocious. It was pretty rare for humans to enter this territory, so those who did without preparing adequately were pretty much always attacked by something. We were nothing more than prey to the predators here.

“Oink.”

“Ah, there.”

We advanced carefully for a while, our hands on our weapons, and stayed grouped up to cover one another’s backs. Just as Henblitz said, there was a saberboar to the right.

“So that’s a saberboar...” Curuni muttered.

“First time seeing one?” I asked.

“Yup.”

There was only one of them. Judging by its size and tusks, it wasn’t a baby, but not quite an adult yet either. It’d probably been weaned for a while and had just started hunting for itself not too long ago.

Much like normal animals, a saberboar’s age could largely be determined by its size, but it was even easier to tell based on its tusks. The bigger the tusks, the older the individual. If they were broken or chipped, then it was a pretty dangerous specimen—that meant the saberboar had a lot of experience, having survived despite the damage to its weapons.

The saberboar before us had adequately sized tusks. However, they were relatively unscathed, so it couldn’t have much combat or hunting experience. That didn’t mean we could be careless, though. Even if it wasn’t quite an adult, getting rammed by it head-on would still be fatal.

“Now then, did this one get lost or driven out?”

Saberboars generally formed packs as families. They were pretty similar to wolves in this respect, so it was rare to find one alone when it’d yet to reach full maturity. It’d either been separated from its pack or had been driven out. They were unexpectedly humanlike in this regard. Being careless or impudent could get one segregated from the group.

“Curuni, give it a go,” I said.

“Huh? Me?”

From the looks of it, there weren’t any other saberboars around. These animals functioned in packs, but they didn’t have the intelligence to leave one of their own in the open as bait, so I was certain that this saberboar was alone. Given the opportunity, I wanted to see Curuni adapt to fighting against a monster. Getting experience in relatively safe environments was pretty valuable.

“Henblitz and I will keep an eye on the surroundings,” I told her. “If it gets dangerous, we’ll support you.”

“Y-Yessir!”

Curuni readied her zweihander and steadily approached the saberboar.

“Grrr...”

When the young saberboar spotted her, it let out a menacing growl. These things were ferocious and lacked the intelligence of humans—they never ran away unless their opponent was overwhelmingly larger than them. This was especially the case among younglings who’d yet to experience failure. The saberboar was sure to attack. This was one reason it was dangerous when such monsters descended the mountains and invaded human territory. Our solution was obviously to cull their numbers periodically.

“Grawr!”

“Bring it!”

I thought for a moment it would turn into a staring match, but the saberboar suddenly charged. Curuni yelled, matching its fervor. It was a good battle cry, but monsters and wild animals weren’t going to falter because they heard one. Getting startled by fighting spirit was reserved for those with intelligence.

Now then, it was time to see what she was made of. That said, I planned on intervening the moment it got dangerous.

“Hnnngh!”

A stiff clang resonated through the Aflatta Mountain Range. Curuni stood her ground and stopped the saberboar’s ramming attack. Charging was essentially a saberboar’s only weapon. It sounded simple to describe them as brainless beasts who only knew how to run with their tusks forward, but the damage they could inflict was no laughing matter. Even if you succeeded in blocking an attack with a sword or shield, if you didn’t have enough physical strength, you would easily be pushed back. Actually, a normal person wouldn’t even try to block. It was far easier to dodge.

“Mrrrrrgh...!”

“Oink?!”

“Ooh, amazing.”

However, Curuni had braced her little legs and killed the charge’s momentum entirely. Her feet had dug trenches into the ground for the length of a few paces—this showed the tremendous force behind that ramming attack. It also showed how staggering Curuni’s strength was. She was able to stop such a charge while only being pushed back a little. I could probably do the same if forced, but it wasn’t something I wanted to test.

“Mrrrrrrrrrgh!”

Curuni gradually pushed back the saberboar. Is this girl seriously taking on a wild monster in a straight up muscle contest? Scary.

A typical human’s strength was insufficient to compete with a saberboar like this. Having two legs to brace versus four made a huge difference, and the amount of muscle mass at their disposal was like the difference between heaven and earth. That was why the typical strategies were to evade the charge and slash at its flank, use a spear or other weapon with reach to nullify the charge, or eliminate it at long range with bows or magic. Saberboars were reckless too, so setting traps was also effective.

When I hunted them, I would get them face-to-face, then dodge their charge before attacking. It would be pretty dangerous to receive a charge from the side, after all. However, the sight before my eyes ignored all those standard tactics.

“Ooooooh!”

“Oink...”

Having stopped the saberboar in a contest of strength, Curuni stomped her foot on its tusk. She raised her zweihander and rammed the blade straight into its head. The young saberboar let out a somewhat pathetic death cry, then perished.

“Wow...”

Hang on, aren’t you being a bit too wild? I hadn’t expected her to challenge a saberboar in a contest of strength before delivering a blow to its brain. I’d figured she would stave off the ramming attack and then slash at it, but her strategy was far more muscle-brained.

That’s weird, I don’t remember our dojo teaching that kind of fighting style. Even making allowances for her using a heavy two-handed sword, she’d bulldozed her way through... It’d been a bit much.

“Is...Curuni always like that on missions?” I asked Henblitz.

“No, she’s supposed to be...somewhat more composed,” he answered, bewilderment clear in his voice too.

This was apparently different from her usual behavior. Curuni might have been beefy, but she wasn’t a meathead. So why did she choose to go with such a boneheaded approach?

“Aw yeah! I won!”

Ignoring our concerns, Curuni was greatly delighted by her victory over the saberboar.

“Curuni, why did you fight like that?” I asked.

I felt bad about putting a damper on her mood, but a part of me needed to know. She was skilled enough that I hadn’t ever expected her to lose against this saberboar. She’d been slightly unreliable during her time as my pupil, but when I’d reunited with her in the Liberion Order, her naivety had died down and she’d grown considerably. That was why I’d allowed her to accompany me on my return to Beaden.

However, her choice of tactic here had sacrificed not only her safety but had even lowered her chances of winning. There were times when it was necessary to gamble in a fight, but this hadn’t been one of them.

To give an example, during the recent royal assassination attempt, I hadn’t been able to prioritize my personal safety during the fight. Had I done so, Prince Glenn and Princess Salacia could’ve died. There were no such circumstances this time around. Curuni could’ve fought however she’d liked, but she had chosen to jump into the jaws of danger.

“Erk... Well...” Curuni said, scratching her head awkwardly. “I couldn’t fight them back in the days at the dojo, so...I wanted to test my current strength. I wasn’t thinking...”

“Hmm...”

I understood where she was coming from. Regardless, what had she planned to do if she’d lost the contest of strength? I guess Henblitz and I would’ve flown to her aid...but it was still a dangerous strategy.

“I get how you feel—I do,” I told her. “But there’s a limit to testing your courage. Ignoring safety and getting caught in an unfortunate accident has nothing to do with mastering swordsmanship.”

“I know... I won’t do it again...”

I decided to reprimand her. If I offered praise, she could end up charging in like that more and more in the future. It was important to find a path to victory but far more valuable to avoid defeat.

“Still, it’s honestly impressive that you won with a brute-force approach,” I added. “You can have confidence in that.”

“Yessir!”

An average swordsman would’ve been thrown back and defeated if they’d tried fighting like that. This had demonstrated Curuni’s growth, so I left it at that.

“What do we do about it now?” Henblitz asked, looking down at the saberboar.

“Hmm...”

Good question. I honestly hadn’t expected to come across one on this trip. That said, we’d defeated it and couldn’t just leave it out here.

“Let’s take it with us and head back,” I decided. “I’d leave it if we were in danger, but it seems like it was alone.”

From what I could tell, the tusks were in good condition, and given the single strike to its brain, its hide was unharmed too. Draining the blood would take some work, but the meat was still edible. A backwater village like ours wasn’t exactly wealthy, so it was best to take everything we could get.

“Curuni, can you carry it?” I asked.

“No problem! One should be a cinch.”

“A cinch, huh...”

Curuni hefted the saberboar up, and it really did look easy for her. She had the muscle strength to casually carry around such weight without even using a cart.

At any rate, my plan was to take it back to the village and ask someone to butcher it. If a peddler happened to be paying us a visit, we could sell the tusks and hide immediately, but merchants very rarely came to remote regions like ours. After all, even if they visited, there were too few people living here to expect a decent profit. If we asked a village hunter to butcher it and tan the hide, we could sell the parts at a later time.

“I’ll keep an eye on the front,” I said. “Henblitz, you watch the rear.”

“Understood.”

Curuni’s hands were full, so we couldn’t count on her to fight. I kept a careful watch as I led the way, and I entrusted the rear to Henblitz. Curuni stayed between us.

Man, I hadn’t planned to do any hunting today. I guess the best plan of action is to do what reconnaissance we can on the way back...? It would be fortuitous if we could find any traces of the pack or get an idea of its scale, but things didn’t tend to be that easy. Still, I hadn’t thought our investigation would end in a single day, so maybe it was best to see this as a good omen.

“Curuni,” I said, “if it gets dangerous, throw that thing down immediately.”

“Yessir!”

Everything would come to naught if she threw away her life because of a fixation on the spoils. In the worst-case scenario, Henblitz and I could at least buy some time, so I wanted her to quickly get rid of that saberboar while we did.

“Can saberboars normally be found so close to the foot of the mountains?” Henblitz asked.

“Normally, no,” I said. “That’s what we’re here to investigate, so— Oh.”

“Oink?”

As I was answering Henblitz, I spotted another saberboar. It hadn’t been that long since we’d killed the first one. This one was similar in age to the one Curuni had defeated. It was still too early to say for sure, but perhaps this generation of saberboars was particularly numerous. It was a problem that they’d encroached upon the village instead of staying deeper in the mountains.

Huh? That’s pretty bad...

◇

“Phew, that was rough...”

Eventually, we decided to end our expedition into the Aflatta Mountain Range for the day. We hauled back our spoils, and the path soon changed from craggy mountain terrain to a smooth plain. Once Beaden’s defensive perimeter was in sight, we finally felt the tension leave our bodies, only to be replaced with fatigue.

“This is actually getting kinda heavy...” Curuni grumbled.

“Sorry. Just hang in there a little longer.”

She was now carrying two dead saberboars. One was heavy enough, and here she was with two. Her strength was nothing to laugh at. Still, it seemed even Curuni was having a hard time with it—she wore a clear expression of exhaustion. It would be entirely possible for me to take one of them, but by doing so, we would no longer be able to guarantee our safety, so that was a last resort.

“That was some harsh terrain,” Henblitz commented nonchalantly. “If we could come out this way, the order could use it for training.”

“I don’t really want to recommend it...” I said.

He seemed perfectly fine. While he was probably experiencing some fatigue, it wasn’t enough to show on his face. He was considering using this mountain range for training, though I personally didn’t want him to try it. I wasn’t underestimating the order’s abilities—my reasoning was more about the bigger picture.

If any of the kingdom’s institutions entered the Aflatta Mountain Range, they risked causing an eruption of international problems with our nation’s neighbor. If Liberis decided it was worth bearing that risk to conquer the mountain range, there was nothing I could do about it. However, the ones who were most likely to get the short end of the stick were those who lived closest to the border. Beaden could be put in a bad situation. I wanted to avoid getting caught up in the ravages of war, especially when the conflict had nothing to do with us.

“By the way, what are we gonna do with these?” Curuni asked as we walked toward the village. She was referring to the saberboars.

“We’ll ask the villagers to drain the blood and butcher them,” I answered. “Just maybe, tomorrow’s dinner will be a little more luxurious.”

“Meat?! That sounds great! I suddenly feel motivated!”

I wasn’t an adventurer or a hunter, so I had no idea how to drain an animal’s blood. Perhaps I could make an attempt by mimicking others, but considering the risk of damaging the goods, I didn’t really want to try. It was best to rely on the experts. Discounting amazing geniuses, there was a limit to what each individual could do, and people were best off utilizing their own skills and outsourcing the rest.

“Anyway, what’s the plan for dealing with this situation?” Curuni asked. “It looks pretty bad, right?”

“Yeah, sure seems that way...” I agreed.

After finishing the first saberboar, we’d encountered three other stragglers on the way back to the village. I didn’t know if we should’ve rejoiced over avoiding the pack or whether we should’ve lamented over only encountering individuals. Either way, the saberboars had come pretty far down the mountains compared to last year.

Maybe this was a coincidence caused by the saberboars just happening to have a lot of young this season. We were capable of dealing with the increased workload. However, it would be frightening if that weren’t the case. If there were too many boars, we would have to ignore international friction, gather a significant force to march into the Aflatta Mountain Range, and uproot the monsters within. That was the worst of worst-case scenarios, though. I wanted to believe such a fate didn’t await us.

“For now, let’s just get back and take it easy,” I said. “We’ll be searching again tomorrow, so keep that in mind.”

“Yessir!”

“Understood.”

We could figure out the cause of their increased numbers later. For now, we needed to keep up our reconnaissance. If things seemed too dangerous, we could retreat and even evacuate the village, but we didn’t have enough information to make that decision yet.

We planned to continue exploring tomorrow. Consecutive trips in the mountains were pretty rough, but without someone who knew about the local geography, scouting would be useless. No one can act as a substitute in my stead, so I’ll need to keep going into the mountains.

With such thoughts in mind, I continued walking toward the village.

“Oh, if it isn’t Beryl. What’s up? Back from hunting?”

“Hi there, Rob. Just who I was looking for.”

Right as we reached the village’s defensive perimeter, an older man called out to me. He had a nice thick beard and was the same age as me or a little older. Rob was one of Beaden’s oldest hunters. He didn’t take risks and rarely brought back a big haul, but he had a high success rate catching small and occasionally larger prey.

“Hm? Aaah... You mean those saberboars?” he asked.

“Exactly. I was hoping you could butcher them.”

He was just the man I was hoping to ask. Our village focused more on agriculture, so there weren’t many hunters like Rob. There was plenty of prey in the Aflatta Mountain Range, but it was dangerous, so hunters didn’t go there often. With the shortage of hunters, and excluding any provisions we got from merchants, Beaden’s meat supplies were largely in his hands.

“All right, leave it to me,” he said. “Carry them over to that hut over there.”

“Thanks. Curuni, you got that?”

“Yessir!”

Now that we had Rob’s okay, I directed Curuni to deliver the saberboars. In Baltrain, there were probably specialized companies for importing, transporting, butchering, and whatever else needed doing. However, out in the sticks, you couldn’t expect any grand enterprises like that. We largely relied on individuals with specialist skills.

The same went for our armed forces. The capital had the knights, and the royal garrison was deployed all over urban areas, but out here, we could only rely on self-defense. We were blessed with some fighters due to the dojo, but we couldn’t match a true martial force—not in terms of quantity or quality. At most, we could repel a few small monsters and beasts, but we would be forced to give up against large groups of monsters.

Some of our pupils and graduates did possess outstanding talent. However, it was unexpectedly hard to flourish as an individual in a fight where numbers were to your disadvantage. That was the stuff straight out of fairy tales and legends—not reality. A heroic figure like Lucy might be able to turn the tide of a battle on her own, but there had to be a limit to that too.

So, the only thing we could do now was use what forces we had to reduce the threat little by little. At least this wasn’t a conflict between humans—it made things far easier for us. Even if our opponents swarmed together, it was unthinkable for them to form a large organized mass. That gave humanity a chance to win.

“Okay, I’m gonna go set this down!”

“Thanks.”

Curuni zoomed off to set down the saberboars. Despite mentioning her exhaustion earlier, she was now brimming with energy.

“She’s carrying two whole saberboars...” Rob said, his mouth agape. “That girl’s pretty strong.”

“Ha ha, she’s a pupil I can be proud of.”

That was definitely an impactful first impression. A grown man would find it difficult to carry even one of those things around.

“Well, I’m grateful to have someone strong about,” Rob said. “I’ll bring the meat over later.”

“Thank you.”

Saberboar meat was pretty tough, but with proper cooking and preparation, it was perfectly edible. I was looking forward to adding it to the menu starting tomorrow. My mom would handle it fine.

After giving his impressions of Curuni, Rob headed after her toward the hut. He was probably going to get started with draining the blood or something. I was going to leave the hide and tusks to him as payment—he would be able to sell them at the next opportunity. My personal finances were pretty good, so if the villagers could live a little easier, I could ask for nothing more.

“By the way, are the three of us going again tomorrow?” Henblitz asked.

“Yeah, and I also plan to have Randrid join us,” I replied. “The dojo’s closed tomorrow.”

We were going to go as a group of four. It was a little too dangerous to bring our pupils for a march through the mountains, so only our strongest were taking part in reconnaissance. My dad could go if he wanted to, but on top of his stamina deteriorating with age, his hips were liable to give out.

Randrid had taken part in the saberboar hunts before and had some knowledge of the local geography. The plan was to cover a wider area this time and get much more information. To add to that, he’d been an amazingly talented adventurer until not too long ago—he was probably more familiar with marching through a mountain than the rest of us. I had high hopes for him.

“I see, how reassuring,” Henblitz said.

“Yeah, I can’t think of a better helper,” I agreed.

We still couldn’t be careless, but Henblitz and Randrid weren’t the types of amateurs to let down their guard. It would be ideal if we could strike down a few groups tomorrow. Even if we couldn’t, I wanted to get a broad grasp of the pack’s scale and the location of their breeding ground. Henblitz and Curuni must’ve figured out what scaling the Aflatta Mountain Range was like by now too, so tomorrow would go far smoother.

“Master! I’m gonna go wash off!” Curuni yelled, dashing back to us after setting down the saberboars.

“S-Sure.”

It seemed she wanted to soak off the dirt and fatigue from today’s reconnaissance. Makes sense—that animal stench will seep into her clothes otherwise. That’s pretty unappealing for a woman. Also, playing in the water like we had before wasn’t quite possible in Baltrain. If you really wanted that kind of experience, there were public bathhouses, but they cost money and could get pretty crowded. Having a nearby source of water was one of the few advantages that Beaden had over the city.

“We’ll go back ahead of you,” I said. “We’ve got to report to my dad and Randrid.”

“Understood,” Henblitz agreed.

Watching Curuni dash off yet again, I returned to my house. It was a little unexpected to find multiple saberboars so far down the mountain, but things weren’t beyond our control. I could only pray that the situation didn’t get more complicated.

◇

“More droppings... Do you suppose the main pack is nearby?”

“Here’s hoping.”

The next day, we once more challenged the Aflatta Mountain Range—now with Randrid added to our ranks. The weather was still good, but the mountains were hotter and more humid than the plains. We’d prepared enough food and drink, but I honestly didn’t want this to drag on too long.

Also, according to my mom, the weather was going to take a turn for the worse tomorrow. I trusted her words more than any fortune teller’s. We were all hoping to achieve the majority of our goals that day.

So, with the addition of the veteran Randrid, we were able to scout the area more aggressively than before. We’d now ventured far enough that we could no longer see the landscape surrounding the village. This was pretty deep into the mountains, but it looked like it was all worth it.

“Anyway, to come this far and still only find strays...” Randrid muttered. “It’s rather unexpected.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Hard to tell what’s going on.”

It was a good thing we were finding traces of saberboars. That helped us narrow down where our prey had built their base. However, despite coming far enough to discern that, we’d still failed to detect any presence of the pack.

“How many did we get so far?” Curuni asked.

“Five,” I answered, “but each one was alone. That’s why we’ve given up on retrieving the corpses.”

That was right—despite the sun only now reaching its apex, we’d already encountered five saberboars. The good news was that each had only taken a single blow to finish, but we had to question why we’d encountered them all individually.

Why couldn’t we find the pack? The answer to that question remained a mystery. Saberboars generally formed packs as families, but that didn’t exclude the possibility of lone animals. Still, it was bewildering that we’d yet to find at least two of them together.

“I doubt the pack was destroyed,” Randrid said. “Something must be going on.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Hopefully, it’s something we can handle ourselves...”

A creature’s nature wasn’t liable to suddenly change. Monsters who’d formed packs until a generation ago weren’t going to start functioning as individuals out of the blue. We could pretty much discount that possibility.

Even if we assumed the saberboars had changed lifestyle in one generation, that wouldn’t turn into a major problem. Much as I mentioned before, saberboars posed a decent threat, but they weren’t the apex predator of the Aflatta Mountain Range—if every saberboar was acting independently without a pack, they would get hunted by other monsters. It could even turn into a turf war between fellow saberboars. This was less a matter of intelligence and more about instincts, so it was hard to imagine that the behavior change was intentional. All this together would gradually kill them off, and that was a situation the saberboars would want to avoid. At the same time, by being more dispersed across the entire mountain range, they would have less of an effect on human settlements.

“The only possibility I can come up with is some kind of human interference...” Randrid said. “But I can’t think of anything to gain from that or what they could’ve done.”

“Yeah, same here.”

From a deeply twisted perspective, someone could be experimenting on monsters, and this could be a secondary effect. That was pretty unrealistic, though. After all, there was far too little to gain from doing something so bold and risky in the Aflatta Mountain Range.

“For now, all we can really do is continue our search...” I grumbled.

We could only come up with baseless theories, so if we wanted to discover the truth, our only choice was to continue onward—and thin out any saberboars we found in the process.

“Where were the largest concentrations last year?” Randrid asked.

“They were pretty scattered, but not too far into the mountains,” I answered.

I definitely didn’t want to go into the depths of the mountain range—neither did other humans, animals, or even monsters. A named monster could potentially have its nest there. Even if there wasn’t one, there were plenty of large monsters like griffons and king allosauruses. There was probably also a great variety of other large monsters I knew nothing about.

I could never have enough lives to charge into such a place. The same went for the saberboars. Even if they’d mutated, they had no chance against large monsters. So, I estimated that, just like last year, they were loitering somewhere between the foot of the mountain and just a little farther up.

The best outcome would be for them to be concentrated far away from Beaden. That meant we would be able to ignore them this year. Still, finding so many strays lurking about was pretty bothersome. Even one was a significant threat to a regular human.

“There are more animal trails, so I’d like to believe we’re getting closer,” Randrid muttered.

“We definitely are,” I said. “I don’t know if we’re just unlucky or if they’re being extra cautious, though.”

We weren’t randomly wandering around this vast mountain range. We’d located easy-to-spot traces like feces and had gone down a series of animal trails. Curuni had no experience with this kind of reconnaissance, but Randrid and I had plenty of experience hunting saberboars, and Henblitz likely had a similar resume.

I doubted it was possible, but it would be pretty rough if the saberboars’ leader was clever and had the pack on the move after detecting our presence. That sounded pretty unlikely. Actually, maybe this is a bit rude, but I’m thinking of too many possibilities—they’re just saberboars. It’s starting to irritate me.

“Maybe a scholar would be able to figure out this mystery,” Curuni grumbled.

“I wonder about that,” I said. “I’ve never met a scholar who studied monsters.”

We had experience hunting saberboars and generally knew what kind of monsters they were, but that didn’t mean we had specialist knowledge. All of this was just empirical data. Experience was often better than knowledge, but it didn’t account for irregularities. You had no precedent to refer to, so you had no choice but to build your information from scratch.

At any rate, while the world was vast, I doubted many people researched monster ecology for fun. It would be a different matter if there was money to be made in that field.

“Now that I think of it,” Henblitz joined in, “when will your pupils be taking the stage?”

“Hm? Oh, right...”

He was asking a good question. How were we going to let my pupils participate in this situation? Last year, my dad and I had gone ahead to discover the saberboar pack. We’d driven them back while reducing their numbers, and when they’d reached the base of the mountains near the village, we’d had the pupils finish them off. Bringing those inexperienced kids into the Aflatta Mountain Range was far too dangerous. There were even years when we’d done so well that not a single saberboar had made it out of the mountains. This was lucky for the village as a whole, but a bit of a letdown for our pupils, who’d been looking to gain valuable experience.

“They’re generally there to defend the village,” I told him. “We’re the only ones entering the mountains.”

“I see. We can’t put them at an unreasonable risk,” Henblitz said.

That was exactly it. No matter how much wisdom you had or how much of your outstanding talents you could put on display, the world of swordsmanship—or fighting, to be precise—was one where a single accident could lead to death. There was no such thing as leaving too large of a safety margin.

Fortunately, we’d yet to lose a pupil to the saberboar hunts. Yet injuries were not only possible, but they had, in fact, happened. No matter how much you practiced or struck a wooden dummy, it was no match for practical experience in a real battle. All who chose to walk the path to mastery had to place themselves in danger’s path at some point.

We’d thoroughly selected only those with sufficient ability and motivation. Nonetheless, accidents still happened. I wanted my adorable pupils to grow in their swordplay, but I also didn’t want to put their lives at risk. Maybe this was a dilemma all swordsmanship instructors faced.

“Hm...? Looks like we’re finally getting close,” I said.

“Oh, a territory mark?” Henblitz asked.

As I walked on with such thoughts in mind, I found an animal trail that was far more firmly tread upon than the others, and there were some damaged trees around it. These marks on the trees hadn’t come from anything like claws—they were holes, pierced by something far larger driving straight into the wood. This meant we were finally closing in on the pack. However, one question still came to mind.

“Isn’t that...kinda big?” Curuni asked.

“It is,” I agreed. “Whatever made that must be absolutely huge.”

One of the trees had an exceptionally large scar on it. Tusks were part of a saberboar’s body and were relative to the animal’s size. It’d be extremely unlikely for only the tusks to grow abnormally large, much like a human wouldn’t exclusively grow huge teeth. In other words, large tusks meant a large body to match, and judging by this mark, the saberboar was huge.

“If I had to guess, a powerful individual must be leading the pack,” Randrid surmised.

“Well, you’re probably right,” I said. “A mark this big is pretty unheard of.”

It wasn’t uncommon for a mutated individual to dominate a group—it happened in every world. This was especially the case in the world of monsters, where power was often the deciding factor. Having a large body made an individual much stronger because the size of the skeletal frame defined the limits of how much muscle mass could be supported. The only exceptions to this power rule were wizards...and maybe Curuni too. How did such a petite girl have so much strength? It was a mystery.

“Stay alert as we proceed,” I told the others. “Be careful of ambushes.”

“Right!”

If the pack was close, it meant we were likely to find saberboars loitering around. Even if things were more open than a forest, visibility was still poor here. We couldn’t afford an attack from the flank or rear, so we had to keep our eyes open. I was more confirming our plan than telling them what to do. Randrid and Henblitz were experts, and even Curuni wouldn’t commit such a blunder. I could put my faith in all of them.

We advanced carefully for a while, and then Curuni suddenly said, “Ah! Master, there.”

“Hm? What is it?” She’d been watching our right. Judging by her tone, she’d discovered something. “Well done, Curuni,” I said, keeping my voice down to avoid being detected. “I’m surprised you spotted it.”

“Heh heh heh. Just takes a little effort, that’s all.”

Curuni understood our situation and was quieter than usual. She was pointing at a gap between some of the sparsely scattered trees and weeds. That spot of land seemed to be a bit of a depression, and it would be difficult to spy on a normal march. Inside the clearing was a pack of ten saberboars. They were loitering about, circling the depression in the ground, their noses and tusks moving about warily. In the center was a single saberboar, cockily relaxing. That’s definitely the boss.

Well, we’d predicted there would be a pack leader, so this wasn’t unexpected. The problem was the saberboar itself.

“Uhhh...”

Isn’t that thing a little too big?

“It’s crazy huge...” Curuni muttered, shock clear in her voice.

“Yeah...”

It looked at least twice as large as a normal saberboar. We hadn’t expected it to be this huge. There was no questioning how it’d become the boss—no average-sized saberboar could win against it.

“It’s dangerous,” Henblitz said, his voice penetratingly cold. “Shall we bring it down?”

“Hmmm...”

There were about ten saberboars around the boss. That meant each of us would need to take down three or four, which was technically doable. However, it was a considerable risk to take on such numbers all at once. In general, humans weren’t made for one-on-two fights. We had a tendency to lose when attacked from the front and back at the same time. That was part of the logic behind war strategy—numbers meant violence.

However, you could see real-life examples of masters taking on multiple opponents at once. The mechanism behind this was simple: opponents were incapable of perfectly coordinating with each other. If there was a timing error of just a few fractions of a second, then the fight could be broken up into two separate instances of one-on-one combat—just fractions of a second apart. That was the key to victory. Adel and Edel losing against Henblitz could be summed up this way.

I’d once described Henblitz as being superior to a hundred normal people. This was the difference in their cumulative strength when taking all facets of their combat skills into consideration. Setting aside the physical logistics, no one could actually win against a hundred adult males simultaneously. However, this was an ideal situation for the other side too—it depended on a superiority in technique and being in the right environment.

With the unstable footholds and poor visibility here, the environment wasn’t suitable for combat. I didn’t believe that Henblitz and Randrid, the proud elite of the order and adventurer’s guild respectively, could lose in a place like this, but that was neither here nor there. We didn’t need to take risks and place our hopes on wishful thinking.

“No, let’s not attack today,” I decided. “Finding this place is good enough.”

“Is that so...?” Henblitz muttered.

We had plenty of force gathered here: me, Henblitz, Randrid, and Curuni. We might not be able to get every last one, but if we fought seriously, we were likely to win.

“Huh? We’re not fighting?” Curuni asked.

“If we were guaranteed to wipe them all out, we would,” I replied. “But that’s not the case. If even one gets away and heads toward the village, it’ll be bad.” Our objective wasn’t just to defeat as many saberboars as we could—we wanted to remove any threat to the village.

And besides, I’d never fought a saberboar this large. The same probably went for the others. There was no telling how much damage it could take before going down. In the worst case, it could get away wounded and charge right for Beaden. That would be a disaster we couldn’t allow to happen.

Also, as things stood, we hadn’t prepared Beaden enough to intercept any incoming monsters. It wasn’t exactly defenseless during peacetime, but the village didn’t possess a force that could calmly deal with a sudden saberboar charge. If the royal garrison or the order were there in numbers, it wouldn’t be a problem, but that wasn’t the case.

Curuni was probably the fastest on her feet among us, but even so, it would be difficult for her to catch a saberboar in full flight over this terrain. There was much to gain from trying to finish them now, but it didn’t balance out the risks. It was less a matter of any harm coming to us and more the possibility of the damage spreading to the village.

“Hmm, I guess you’ve got a point...” Curuni said.

“This isn’t a normal monster-killing quest,” I told her. “If we could just kill it and be done, I would go right ahead.”

If this had been a request for the adventurer’s guild, then we would throw everything at it, defeat the boss, and call it a day. But the situation here was a little different.

“It would also be terrible if another pack made a move while we were dealing with this one,” I added.

Henblitz nodded. “I see. I didn’t think of that.”

It was hard to imagine there being only a single saberboar pack. That stupidly big one was definitely the leader of this group, but there could be others. To add to that, there was no guarantee the ten or so saberboars here constituted the whole pack. Taking all of this into consideration, attacking now wasn’t wise.

“Let’s check out the surrounding area while avoiding their attention,” I said.

“Understood.”

We now knew this was one of the bases we had to destroy, so we would prioritize searching around here. When it came time to deal with them, it would be ridiculous and inconvenient to trip up over the terrain, so we had to get a good grasp of the area.

From what I could see, the boss was pretty confident in itself. Even if a few humans were sniffing around, it wasn’t going to move its base so easily. It would still be problematic to be discovered and attacked by the saberboars though, so we had to be careful while scouting.

The four of us dispersed somewhat, approaching the beasts little by little as we searched around. We’d discovered their base, so now it was time to figure out how to attack it.

On the assumption that this was the full scale of the pack, my plan was to surround them and attack from every direction. That made it difficult for us to support one another, but if we tightened our formation, the saberboars were more likely to run away.

“Over there...looks too unstable.”

On one side of the depression, as if to make up for the rockfall, the terrain was particularly steep. It would be possible to climb and move over it, but I wasn’t sure whether I could get over it quickly in the heat of battle. I could imagine getting charged from behind while trying to scale it and getting a big hole in my back. From another perspective, the saberboars wouldn’t be able to scale it quickly either, so cornering them there seemed like a good idea.

“Hrm...?”

As I continued looking around and building a strategy in my head, the sky suddenly darkened. The source of the sweltering heat that had been pouring down on us was now blocked by a dense cloud to the west.

“I thought it’d just barely hold out for the rest of the day...”

We still had time before it started raining, but even dense cloud cover could be pretty dangerous. A downpour could start out of the blue, even if it didn’t happen immediately. This was unlikely because my mom had predicted it would somehow remain stable for the whole day, but there were no absolutes, and it was unreasonable to ask her to get things correct down to the minute.

“Master, the sky is looking pretty bad,” Randrid said. Being a former adventurer, he was the fastest to realize it.

“Yeah, I just noticed too.”

He had rushed to my side quickly but silently, avoiding detection by the saberboars. In the dojo, we taught pupils how to erase all sound and presence while closing the distance, but that was on the flat ground of a training hall or on even soil. It wasn’t used in an area of unstable footing like where we found ourselves now.

Randrid seemed to have used our swordsmanship as a base, but he’d definitely made adjustments to his technique during his activities as an adventurer. Allucia was extraordinary at techniques like this, but perhaps on bad terrain, Randrid was actually better. That was how splendid his movements were.

“Shall we link up with the other two and fall back?” he suggested. “It’ll be dangerous if it starts pouring.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We didn’t bring anything to weather a storm.”

Randrid properly understood the dangers of a sudden deterioration in weather. I wasn’t implying that Henblitz or Curuni would make light of it, but it seemed to me like adventurers had far more practical experience in the field. A greedy part of me wanted to keep going because the rain would affect the beasts’ sense of smell. However, we hadn’t packed any gear to deal with rain. Continuing would be just a little too dangerous.

Hunting monsters was part of a knight’s job, but they spent far more time escorting VIPs and going on expeditions to maintain public order. To put it nicely, they were a systematic authority. Put less nicely, they weren’t used to fighting dirty—that was the territory of adventurers and mercenaries. You could sum it up as “the right person for the right job.” It was fortuitous that we had Randrid with us.

Just as we started moving toward the other two, they also noticed the change in the sky and came over to us.

“Mr. Beryl, the weather seems to be taking a turn for the worst.”

“Master! It’s getting kinda dark!”

Hmm, these two really are good. Even if there was a difference in their degree of comprehension, they’d made the right choice to link up with us rather than continue the search.

“We just noticed too,” I told them. “It’s possible it’ll start raining, so let’s get out of the mountains quickly.”

“Understood,” Henblitz acknowledged.

No one raised any objection. If we were on the open plains, we could keep going somewhat if it rained, but unfortunately, this was a mountain range. It was already dangerous out here as it was, so it was best to get out now. I absolutely didn’t want to go down these slopes if they turned muddy from rain.

“There we go...” Randrid muttered, marking particularly conspicuous trees and rocks with a knife as he went.

“Randrid, what’s that?” Curuni asked.

“Something like a landmark,” he answered. “If it sticks out too much, the local wildlife will be on alert, so we keep it small enough for only us to notice.”

“Ooh, I get it.”

This methodology was effective in dense forests and caves too. There was no changing the actual scenery, so he made marks just big enough for those looking out for them to see. We’d identified one of the saberboars’ lairs, and his marks were a means of leading us back to the area. Frankly, this would prevent a disaster. Getting lost in the middle of a mountain range was pretty much as bad as it could get. These marks were pretty useless once the sun set, though—not that we would ever enter the Aflatta Mountain Range after dark. We didn’t have to worry about that.

At any rate, this was the difference between knights and adventurers. In terms of pure combat ability, it was difficult to say if Henblitz or Randrid was better, but in terms of survival skills, Randrid very likely had the edge. These skills were difficult to pick up without spending a long time living in such environments. Adventuring was also a world where those who didn’t acquire them tended to die. Those who took command of harsh environments gained fame and riches as top-class adventurers, so they were pretty valuable skills to have. Doesn’t have anything to do with me, though.

“Whoa, it’s getting darker and darker,” Curuni remarked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Let’s pick up the pace a little.”

It looked like the clouds covering the sun to the west were getting even thicker. I wanted to get to the foot of the mountains before it began raining. It wasn’t pitch-black, so we weren’t going to get lost, but no one wanted to descend a mountain in a downpour.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

“Eeep!”

I urged Curuni from behind. She was the least used to marching through the mountains among us. It was important to keep an eye on our surroundings, but we had to prioritize speed for now. If things took a turn for the worst, this party could manage pretty much any opponent in a fight. It was more dangerous for us to go too slowly and get caught in the rain before we were clear of the mountains.

“Bwah?!”

“Curuni?!”

Randrid was leading the way, followed by Henblitz, Curuni, then me, but Curuni suddenly vanished from my sight. She’d lost her balance on the unstable ground and had pitched forward face first.

Wow, that looks like it hurt. Not only had she fallen, she’d done so on a slope—her body slid down from the momentum.

“Ooow! That hurts like crazy!” Curuni yelled, shooting back up to her feet in tears.

“Y-You okay?” I asked.

She didn’t have any noticeable wounds on her face, so that was a relief. It seemed she’d reflexively used her arms to protect herself.

Falling was pretty common in the mountains, so we had to be careful. It was pretty hard to trip just from running across a level surface, but it happened easily on the uneven ground of the mountains. At least this had happened on a somewhat familiar path. Had she gone headfirst off a cliff...

“Curuni, are you all right?” Henblitz asked.

“It was just a small slipup! A total gaffe!”

“Good. Be careful.”

“Yessir!”

It didn’t seem to be a big deal, so Henblitz returned his focus to the fore. Normally, you’d think he would be more worried, but he lived up to his role as a knight—scrapes were everyday occurrences to them. I almost felt like he’d call a fracture no big deal so long as she could still move. That was a frightening thought, especially since I knew Curuni would push through the pain. That was just the kind of girl she was.

Still, it was good it wasn’t raining when she tripped. A wet slope was even easier to slip on, and the resulting injury was far more likely to be worse. Accidents could happen no matter how careful you were, so I wanted to hurry while one was least likely to occur.

“Sorry, but we’re keeping up the pace,” I said. “It’s far riskier to still be in the mountains when the rain starts.”

“Got it!” Curuni replied. “Not a problem!”

I didn’t have the same nonchalant attitude about her pain as Henblitz, but as long as she said she was fine, I was good with it. I continued hurrying her down the mountains, praying that it wouldn’t start raining.

Did the heavens answer my meager prayer? By the time the sound of rain drizzling against the soil was audible, we’d reached the base of the Aflatta Mountain Range.

Curuni was greatly delighted to play in the water and wash off the dirt, but she immediately wailed about it stinging her wounds.

I get it. Water on a fresh wound definitely hurts. But you gotta get the dirt out of it, so put up with it.

◇

“All right. Is that everyone?”

“Yes!”

Several days after finding one of the saberboars’ lairs, the sky was cloudless, just as my mom had predicted. It was absurdly hot first thing in the morning, but that was better than rain. It was the perfect day to carry out our plan.

Today, we were going to do away with any threat to the village. We’d gathered twelve members for our hunting party—not that I’d done much of the gathering.

“I’d love to see this stupid big saberboar for myself...” my dad grumbled, “but I guess I’ll yield the trophy to you youngsters.”

“Please just stay put,” I told him. “You’re our last line of defense in case anything happens.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Despite always complaining about his stamina and hips and whatnot, he was still the strongest swordsman I knew. In the worst-case scenario of us getting annihilated and the pack of saberboars attacking the village, he would be able to at least buy the time for everyone to evacuate. Maybe it was even possible for him to beat them all. That was how much trust I could put in his swordsmanship, if nothing else. It would actually be difficult to find a swordsman I trusted more. Maybe Allucia or Surena, but we couldn’t exactly get them to come here now.

“I want to go into the mountains too!” Adel protested.

“Ha ha, if you get some experience this time, maybe you’ll be able to go next year,” I told her.

“I-I don’t really mind staying here...” Edel mumbled.

“Oh, come on!” Adel yelled.

I had no intention of letting my pupils into the Aflatta Mountain Range. They were going to be stationed at the foot of the mountains, a little more to the front than where my dad was going to be waiting.

This was actually a considerable concession. By all rights, my dad should’ve been within reach of our pupils. However, Adel and the others had protested that they wouldn’t get any experience that way, so I’d reluctantly allowed them to get closer.

I understood how they felt: they finally had the chance to test their swords, so it would be vexing to have my dad as a babysitter watching them from within the village’s defensive perimeter. There was a precedent for having our pupils close to the front lines too. Those had been students like Allucia and Randrid though—people we’d had significant trust in them, even as children.

Aside from Adel and Edel, Randrid and I had selected two other kids. The pupils’ first battle was going to take place as a group of four. In truth, I’d wanted to leave Randrid with them as a supervisor, but our target was dangerously large, so I had him going with us to defeat it instead. That said, as long as we could defeat the boss, it wasn’t a bad idea to have at least one person with the students. Henblitz or Randrid could fall back in that case.

“To repeat myself over and over,” I told the pupils, “the moment you think it looks bad, just accept it and fall back to the village. My dad will manage one way or another after that. Especially you, Adel. Be careful.”

“I can properly judge the situation!” she protested, before adding, “Probably...”

“Edel, keep an eye on her,” I said.

“R-Right!”

Adel was the foolhardiest among the pupils here by a long shot. If she got too into the battle, she was liable to try to take down a saberboar at the cost of her own life. I left command over the students to Edel, who would be able to keep a calm appraisal of the situation better than the others. It would be nicer to have them within reach, but it was too dangerous to bring them with us into the mountain range. The terrain was just that frightening.

“Um... Good luck,” Mewi said awkwardly to close things off.

“Yeah, leave it to me.”

Mewi seemed to give me unlimited strength, and I felt more motivated than ever before. I couldn’t look lame in front of her. Mewi was going to be watching the house with my mom and Randrid’s family, so she wouldn’t be witnessing my fight. Nonetheless, her words of support granted me great strength.

“Okay, let’s get going.”

Having fired myself up, I led the group toward the Aflatta Mountain Range. I wanted to get things done by the end of the day. We’d made preparations to that end, and though I still had misgivings, we had enough information to put up a proper fight. The rest was up to our own efforts.

“At any rate, I’m glad the pack itself is pretty small,” Randrid said on the way there. He seemed to be cataloging what information we had about our foes.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess we have the boss to thank for that.”

After discovering what appeared to be the saberboars’ boss, we’d spent one more day searching the mountains. We’d figured out that, aside from the boss’s pack, the saberboars weren’t really gathered in groups.

There could be many causes for this, but the one that made the most sense was that stupidly huge boss. There were far fewer packs than last year, but to make up for that, we’d found far more isolated saberboars. If I had to guess, the pack had been much larger at first, but the boss had taken control and had exiled all the saberboars who’d challenged it.

As a result, there were fewer saberboars forming packs and more wandering around in isolation. The fact that all the saberboars we’d found on their own had been so young supported this theory. In other words, they hadn’t been in a position to lead a pack.

The young saberboar population had increased, and as a result of challenging that abnormal boss and losing—or just being forced out—they hadn’t had the flexibility or the time to form new packs. That meant we didn’t have to do as much hunting, which made things easier for us.

“We’re lucky none of the lone saberboars ended up reaching the village,” Randrid muttered.

He had a point. The saberboars who’d refused to obey the powerful boss could’ve caused harm after being exiled. Lone saberboars didn’t really have any defined turf. Their field of activity was limited to an extent, but they could wander much farther than a pack. We’d simply been lucky that none of them had come out of the Aflatta Mountain Range and onto the plains.

“We got to strike down a bunch of strays, so there are plus sides to it too,” I said.

“True,” Randrid agreed. “I suppose we won’t be wanting for meat for a while.”

We’d collected what saberboars we could during our reconnaissance. It had been unreasonable to try to bring back any that we’d found too deep into the mountains, but we had the best courier we could ask for in Curuni.

We’d left all the saberboar corpses to Rob. This had left him hollering in joy, but he did have to skin and butcher each one for the village to benefit. The saberboars were definitely a source of income for us, and we made use of everything we could. We just had to wait for a merchant to coincidentally pass by Beaden so we could sell all the tusks and hides. Maybe we were asking for too much luck in that case, though.

Either way, unlike the meat, the tusks and hides could be preserved, so having something we could always sell for money was good for our mental health. The meat was also a treat for the whole village—we weren’t planning on saving any of it.

“At that size, I bet the boss’s tusks will fetch a great price,” Curuni commented.

“Ha ha ha, I guess we’ll want to try to keep them intact,” I said.

She had a point. If we could keep tusks that large undamaged, they would probably sell for a considerable sum. That did make finishing the boss somewhat harder, but it wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, to harvest the tusks, we had to win. Getting them wasn’t our ultimate objective, but it was something else we could strive for.

The hide would also sell for a higher price the less damaged it was, but it was pretty hard for a swordsman to finish their prey cleanly like that. Our opponents tended to move around a lot and resist. Archers and spearmen were more suited to the task, but I didn’t know any. I was a swordsman, so all of my acquaintances were swordsmen—plus a few wizards.

“Oh, here we are.”

After a while of casual chatting on our way to our destination, the grand Aflatta Mountain Range towered before us, and the plains stretched out behind us. We were near the boundary between the two regions.

“You kids keep on alert around here,” I told the pupils. “Don’t even think of entering the mountains.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Adel said, disappointment clear in her voice.

Is she really going to be all right? I mean, I have to trust her, but I’m still anxious. A part of me wanted to tell her to go back to the village, but there was no way she was going to listen.

“It’ll be fine,” Randrid said. “She’s stubborn but not disobedient.”

“Well, I guess you’re right...” I said.

I decided to just go with the initial plan. Just as he’d said, I wouldn’t have brought her here if she was just some unruly child. We’d placed an emphasis on sword skills when selecting which pupils would come with us, but we hadn’t decided purely on those merits. And she was here now, so we couldn’t turn back—we could only trust in our prior judgment of her.

“This’ll be different from our scouting trips,” I said. “We’re actively eliminating any threats as we make our way to our objective. Got that?”

“Yes!” the others responded.

Our goal was the depression where the saberboar boss was. Unlike before, we were actively hunting any targets we found along the way. We had more than enough of a force gathered for that. The plan was to crush anything we found on our way to the depression, check the situation once we arrived, decide on a strategy, and then attack.

It was a pretty crude plan, but it was the only thing we could do considering how vast the mountain range was and how few people we had on hand. If we’d had an army, things might’ve been different. Though I had no idea how to command an army, so that would pose its own challenges.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” I said.

“Yessir!” Curuni replied.

I turned to look at the Aflatta Mountain Range once more. It was time to begin the hunt.

◇

“Hiyah!”

“Oink...”

Curuni’s zweihander caught the head of a charging saberboar. She brought it straight down, dead center on her target, halting its momentum and crushing its cranium. It died instantly. I never want to try to block an attack from that zweihander head-on. She puts such strength behind it... Is anybody in this world strong enough to directly block her strike?

“A saberboar’s skull is supposed to be pretty tough...” Randrid said with a strained smile.

“Well, that’s Curuni for you...” I muttered alongside him.

It was definitely a shocking sight. There were probably other adventurers who fought like that, but her strength still seemed extraordinary. Randrid had considerable strength too, but he would probably be hard-pressed to duplicate such a feat. I doubted I could.

The only one who could probably give Curuni a run for her money was Henblitz, but he made full use of his strength in a sound and steady style to defeat his opponents. It was somewhat different from Curuni’s way of doing things.

“Still, it was a good strike,” I said. “On the assumption you’re hitting the opponent, a downward swing is very powerful.”

“Yessir!”

She got a passing grade for making the right decision based on my earlier lecture regarding the use of two-handed swords. She wasn’t just mindlessly swinging it around. This also reinforced my opinion of Balder—Curuni’s sword skill was splendid, but a weapon capable of matching her strength and style was equally magnificent.

“It’s mostly easy ’cause they come right at me, though,” she said.

“I think there’s something wrong with calling that easy...” I muttered.

She made it sound like she wouldn’t lose to anyone in a straight up contest of strength. To be honest, there were probably very few beings out there who could win against her. But Curuni technically had a point. Assuming you weren’t completely outclassed, it was generally easier to fight an opponent who was coming at you rather than one who turned their back to run. A fleeing enemy meant you were unlikely to suffer any injuries, but it also made it hard to deal a telling blow.

Saberboars pretty much never ran away as their first move, so you could say they were the ideal foe for Curuni’s style. Wild animals and monsters were typically ferocious. Excluding those with intelligence or small bodies, their first impulse was to attack. Even though it was mentally tiring to be on guard for constant ambushes, if you could place them right in front of you, it made things relatively simple to handle. To add to that, being able to deal certain death to a foe who was directing their hostility toward you was a big boon. A wounded beast was a lot of trouble, and it would be problematic for them to escape with information on how dangerous we were. There was nothing easier to handle than an opponent who lacked caution, be they monster or human.

“At any rate, there sure are a lot of strays,” I said. “How many exiles are there?”

The saberboar that had just attacked Curuni had been yet another stray. I checked the area just in case, but there were no signs of any others. We’d taken out a fair number of them the other day, but it didn’t feel like there were fewer of them now. There were just a lot of saberboars this year, and plenty of them had been driven out of the pack. How tyrannical was this boss? I was starting to feel sorry for the other saberboars.

“At least we aren’t getting surrounded,” Randrid said. “Strays also keep our fatigue down.”

He was right. Facing lone opponents meant we had time to rest. I had the least stamina in this group, but even I had energy to spare. The others could probably keep going far longer. At this rate, we would reach our destination with plenty of stamina in reserve. There was no telling how much time that ridiculously large boss would take to defeat, so I wanted us in as good a condition as possible.

“This place really is suitable for training,” Henblitz commented, nodding in satisfaction.

“I-Is that so...?”

He’d been mowing down not only saberboars, but other beasts and monsters who’d made their home in the Aflatta Mountain Range. I was glad he seemed to be having a fulfilling experience, but I really didn’t want him to make this place the order’s campground. Even ignoring the international problems, I felt like the mountain range’s ecosystem would change drastically if such a martial force were to stay for too long.

While we were mainly hunting saberboars, if other monsters or beasts got in our way, we dealt with them too. It was unwise to cull too many of them without a good reason, but we had to ward off whatever attacked us. Still, due to the increase in saberboar activity in this area, we didn’t really find many other beasts.

Most of the larger monsters were located deeper into the mountains. I still didn’t understand why Zeno Grable had been where we’d found it. In terms of fighting ability, saberboars were far inferior to any named monster. The boss’s size was indeed a threat, but it wasn’t going to fly through the skies or use magic or anything. Considering our forces, it would be odd if we lost.

The terrain was our greatest obstacle. If we’d been in an open field, I would’ve taken the dojo’s pupils with us. Things just never seemed to line up, and I was beginning to wonder why that was. There was no point in grinding my teeth over it, but it was hard to say whether I’d always made the best choices. Well, that’s all in the past—I have to focus on the present.

“Master, what’re we gonna do after finishing the big one?” Curuni asked during a break between killing saberboars and other small creatures.

“Hmm... Carrying it back seems unreasonable, so maybe we can call Rob over to collect it later.”

At that size, I couldn’t imagine Curuni hefting it back to the village all on her own. It would take several of us to transport it, but that would make our journey back too risky. Depending on how exhausted we were after the fight, we could possibly call in reinforcements to come and collect it.

Unfortunately, even with escorts, we couldn’t allow regular villagers into the mountains, so the only people available were Rob and the other hunters. Maybe after we were done scattering the saberboars, we could bring my pupils to help too. Their task would be less about defeating monsters and more about simple physical labor, though.

Randrid pointed to a cut on the tree he’d left last time. “There’s a mark,” he said. “We’re getting close.”

“Got it,” I confirmed.

We were almost at the depression in the ground—we could only hope the boss was still there. If it wasn’t, I wanted to keep searching, though I needed to keep in mind how long it would take us to get out of the mountains. No matter how many saberboars we hunted, the threat would remain if the boss was left at large.

“Ah, over there...”

Visibility was poor, but a while after discovering the first mark, I spotted a unique feature of the terrain through the trees.

“The boss...is right there. It’s kicking back and relaxing,” I said.

“It kinda looks full of itself,” Curuni said.

“Well, it’s the hotshot of its pack.”

Much like last time, the boss saberboar, who was twice the size of the others, was lounging about in its base. It really was cocky. It had probably exiled all the saberboars who hadn’t taken to its attitude.

There was a benefit to kicking out all those who didn’t obey, but going too far would make it impossible to maintain a community. In all likelihood, if we simply sat back and observed the situation, the pack would eventually fall apart. A part of me wanted to see this, but that would scatter saberboars all over, leading to potential collateral damage. Too bad for the boss—we have to finish it here.

“What’s the plan? Shall we charge in?” Henblitz asked.

“That’s the idea, but we’ll spread out first,” I said. “I want everyone to corner them near that steep incline over there.”

“I see...”

In a one-on-one fight against a saberboar, no one here was going to lose. Their accomplishments to date had proven that. So, rather than making a tight formation and creating an escape corridor for the saberboars, I wanted to surround them and crush their chances of fleeing.

“Once I see everyone in position, I’ll throw this rock,” I added. “Use that as the signal to charge in. What do you think?”

“Understood,” Henblitz said. “That sounds good.”

The pack was a little bigger than what we’d confirmed the other day. At least from what I could see, there were somewhere around twenty saberboars. If you looked only at the numbers, it seemed bad for us—four against twenty was unreasonable. That was why I wanted to take the initiative with a violent surprise assault and reduce their numbers a little.

We couldn’t shout to one another while spreading out and coordinating, so I’d chosen a stone as a signal, which was confirmable by sight and didn’t have any lag. Though it was somewhat primitive, it was enough to declare the start of the battle.

“Haaah...”

The others dispersed, and I was now alone. I took the time to meditate.

This is an opponent I can beat. I’ve beaten saberboars a ton of times. But that doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed to win today. If I show the slightest bit of carelessness, arrogance, or conceit—these things could easily overturn the victory I should achieve.

“Okay...”

I clenched the large stone in my left hand. Using this as a signal to start the fight might seem lame from an outside perspective, but I didn’t care about that. It didn’t matter how cool it looked. Taking the best option available to achieve victory was what fighting was about.

“Hup!”

I wound my arm back and threw the first and last ball of the game. A dull thud resounded inside the depression as four figures—including me—leaped out from the trees at the same time.

“Haaah!”

“Oink?!”

The first to strike was Henblitz. A saberboar just happened to be in his path. It had registered the sound of his approach, but it hadn’t been able to react to his swift blade. A splendid horizontal slash severed both its forelegs in one strike. A smart decision. There’s no need to deal immediate deathblows—we only have to disable them. The forelegs had been the easiest thing to hit in that situation.

A ferocious monster’s bones and muscles were in no way soft. Even if they were relatively easier to cut compared to the cranium, Henblitz had severed two limbs in one considerably powerful blow. His longsword was also a splendid piece of smithing, having withstood such force with ease.

“Ooooh!”

“Hiyaaah!”

Randrid and Curuni also slashed at the first saberboars they encountered. The former went from a thrust to an upward stroke to split his opponent’s nose and fighting spirit, then aimed a return stroke at its neck. The latter used a downward swing to once more finish her target in a single blow.

Curuni’s attack had terrifying power behind it, but I was a little worried this experience might give her some bad habits. A downward strike straight from above as an opening move was pretty much only good in a successful ambush or against an opponent who was already off-balance. It was only succeeding now because she was faced with monsters who possessed no intelligence or technique. In a fight between skilled combatants, it wouldn’t go this well. I’ll have to warn her about it later.

“There we go.”

“Oink...”

I couldn’t just watch the battle—I had work to do too. I dodged the saberboar who charged at me, then delivered a single strike to its abdomen as it passed. My sword tore through half of its torso without any resistance, sending a spray of blood into the air.

No matter how many times I used it, my sword’s edge was nothing to laugh at. It performed at ridiculous levels, living up to the fact that Balder had poured his soul into this one blade. I was constantly reminded of how I had to one day live up to the quality of this sword. Will I ever truly feel like I deserve it?

“Oink! Graaaaaawr!”

After our successful initial strike, the ridiculously big boss roared in anger. Well, uncouth intruders had suddenly barged into its territory, so its anger was reasonable. That didn’t mean I was going to let it get away, though.

“Oink!”

Contrary to my expectation, the boss’s order was to attack, not flee. Even though our initial strike had gone well, they still had more than ten healthy saberboars. Turning tail and running would muddy the boss’s dignity, so we didn’t have to worry about our opponents fleeing. That was good—it meant there was no current threat to the village.

“Here they come!” I yelled. “Just make sure not to get flanked!”

“Right!”

Our ambush had gone well, but now it was time to start the real battle. Though the objective was the same as before, the difficulty had gone up. Our opponents now saw us as the enemy, and they were coming at us all at once in greater numbers. Not only did we have to stay on the offensive, but we had to endure attacks from multiple sources. This was the time for a swordsman’s skills to shine.

A saberboar charge involved a mass far greater than any human, and they closed in at tremendous speed. No matter how great your technique, it was all too common to freeze up when faced with such a threat. Experience and knowledge were the most important factors in a fight like this.

“Haaah!”

“Oooh!”

Good thing the people by my side were elites with mountains of experience. None were rookies who would falter in the face of a saberboar’s charge. Our opponent had speed, and their strength was immense, but they had no strategy or intelligence. We weren’t soft enough or trained so poorly that we would lose to such meager opponents. We just have to keep our eyes on what’s happening. They’re all going down here.

“Graaaaaawr!”

“Oh, looks like the boss has decided to personally step in.”

Around the time we finished two or three saberboars each—seeing its pack reduced to half its number—the boss seemed unable to endure witnessing the slaughter. It roared and charged.

“Graaah!”

“Whoa there!”

Perhaps seeing me as the frailest of the four, the stupidly huge saberboar made a beeline for me.

Oh man, aren’t you a bit quick for your size? Not only that, its deadly tusks were ridiculously large and seemed very sharp. A single hit could lead to instant death. Also, considering that its tremendous mass far surpassed mine, even a collision that didn’t involve the tusks seemed very dangerous. This wasn’t just some small fry who was all show—it definitely lived up to being the leader of the pack.

“Grawr!”

“Guess you won’t just...go down quietly!”

The saberboar boss shook its head left and right as it charged, swinging its huge tusks. Its momentum alone was troublesome, but it was also capable of stopping suddenly. And it did just that—the moment it got within striking range, it halted and changed directions, still swinging those tusks. Despite being a monster, it was pretty smart.

Due to the beast’s sudden braking and the shaking of its head, I couldn’t deal a decisive blow. It was a bit of a pain. Against a normal opponent, I could circle around to the flank and cut it down. However, this saberboar’s tusks were far too big, so I had to dodge far enough away that my blade could no longer reach it.

I definitely didn’t want to resort to throwing my weapon. I could probably hit it, but I wasn’t confident I could take it down in one blow, and a move like that would leave me unarmed.

“Mr. Beryl! I’ll supp—”

“I’m fine!” I yelled, cutting Henblitz off. “Use this time to whittle down their numbers!”

There was no need to fight this thing two-on-one yet. The boss was focused solely on me, so the three others didn’t have to worry about it and could take out its underlings.

Now then, how to break this deadlock? The saberboar boss was huge and fast, but its strength, speed, and agility were all inferior to the named monsters I’d fought before. Zeno Grable had been far faster and more agile. Lono Ambrosia had been more of a pain to deal with, and the victory conditions had been far harsher.

Things were relatively easy on me this time around, but in a contest of stamina, I would definitely lose. I couldn’t mess around and drag things out for too long. The safest and most reliable approach would be for me to stall, preserve my stamina, and wait for the others to exterminate the saberboars—then we could take the boss four-on-one. There was no need to take unnecessary risks. I understood this from a logical standpoint. I also had the confidence to dodge all of its attacks until this choice was possible. I was still a little concerned about my stamina, but I hadn’t exerted myself much before this, so it was probably okay.

“Haaah... I guess I really am a swordsman at heart.”

“Oink!”

But that wouldn’t be fun. Not fun at all. I had nothing to say in my defense if someone called me crazy for thinking this in such a tense situation. It simply wasn’t the time for such thoughts.

Have I always been this much of a thrill seeker? Wasn’t I the type to prioritize safety and certainty? I couldn’t really fault Curuni now—that would be like the kettle calling the pot black. Had I remained as nothing more than a dojo instructor in Beaden, I wouldn’t be thinking such things. But my life plan had changed drastically ever since Allucia had shown up out of nowhere and thrust the title of special instructor for the Liberion Order into my hands.

Well, maybe I hadn’t really had a proper plan before that. Nonetheless, my time in Baltrain had been filled with fascinating events—some a bit stormy, and none of which I could’ve experienced in the sticks. That was both good and bad.

Just maybe, these colorful days reminded me a little of the dreams I’d had as a child. To sum it up briefly, I was reminded of the curiosity I’d had about how close I could get to the summit of swordsmanship, my desire for plain and simple strength, the pursuit of technique, and the groundless confidence that I could accomplish it all. I could feel it all bubbling up to the surface. My heart was screaming at me and asking why I was being stalled by such a weak opponent.

How could I forget? Creatures known as swordsmen were selfish by nature. We believed we were better than all others, and we competed ruthlessly with our lives on the line. We happily threw ourselves into a never-ending vortex of battles. Wasn’t that the lifestyle I’d wished for with all my heart as a child?

“Haaah...”

“Graaawr!”

I didn’t rebel against this smoldering emotion within me. Instead, I lowered my stance. I wasn’t positioning myself to dodge—if I failed here, I was sure to suffer a serious injury. I could even die. But mysteriously enough, I didn’t feel any fear of death. I wasn’t worried about failing.

I emptied every last bit of air in my lungs and absorbed everything with my eyes. Holding in all my vigor, I felt my nostrils flare open.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaah!”

I screamed, putting all my fighting spirit behind my conviction.

Man, it feels surprisingly good to unleash all my spirit in the face of a charge. I was supposed to already know this. I’d done it in the past. When had I forgotten? My last memory of it seemed so far away. That was how much I’d distanced myself from the mental state of an ideal warrior, and I’d made excuses all the while.

“Graaah!”

As if hailing my roar, the saberboar boss charged at me. A pair of tusks thicker than my arms closed in right before my eyes. I wasn’t going to dodge. It was already too late to try. The moment I’d taken this stance, there’d been no other choice but to meet the boss head-on.

“Shhh!”

With my sword held before me, I stretched one leg back. I didn’t use my strength to lunge forward. By bracing my entire lower body from the hips down and shifting my weight backward, I used my opponent’s momentum to throw forward a sufficiently powerful slash as the distance closed. This was a reversal.

“Oink?!”

Serpent lash—this was a technique that coiled around the opponent’s charge, sealing it and retaliating with a strike in the process. The saberboar and I had intersected for an instant balanced on a knife’s edge. Its charge had even torn a fragment from my clothes. However, my sword had cleanly severed one of its great tusks right at the root.

“Shaaah!”

“Oink?!”

Without sparing a glance at the severed tusk, I swept my blade up, cutting the saberboar’s neck with pinpoint accuracy. In my hands, I could feel definite feedback from the blow.

“Graaaaaah!”

“Guess you’re not going down in one hit!”

However, its massive frame was a tremendous threat on its own. I’d stepped in more than usual for the strike, but one hadn’t been enough to finish it. A flashy spray of blood shot out, so it was indeed bleeding considerably. Given time, the saberboar would no longer be able to move, but it had proven to be too difficult to neutralize immediately.

“O-Oink...”

The saberboar who’d been charging in heedlessly seemed shaken—its tusk was gone, and there was damage to its neck.

“To cut it off without breaking it... Just what I’d expect!”

I could hear Henblitz voice his admiration. He’d apparently seen my strike by coincidence. The tusk hadn’t snapped off—I’d severed it cleanly at its root. This was made possible not only because of my technique, but thanks to the sword made of Zeno Grable’s materials. Even so, it felt pretty good.

In terms of simple feedback, Lono Ambrosia’s core had been much harder. Unlike the core’s abnormal material, this was nothing more than an animal’s tusk, even if somewhat large. This was only clear after the fact, but it wasn’t all that hard to cut.

“Grrrr...!”

“If you’re just gonna sit back, then I’ll make the move.”

Having quietened down significantly from its initial display of bravado, the boss gradually stepped back. Maybe it was hoping for reinforcements, but unfortunately for it, most had already been cut down. I’d taken it one-on-one but only with the help of the others. Though I’d ended up repelling its charge, if another saberboar had attacked my flank, I would’ve been helpless.

“Hah!”

“Oink?!”

I closed in with a single lunge and started by robbing my opponent of its mobility. I thrust my longsword straight into the saberboar’s right foreleg.

My emotions were running high. The long-dormant pride I had as a swordsman was being stimulated—this was very clear to me. Still, I wasn’t going to yield to such emotions and let down my guard. I couldn’t lose myself to it.

My opponent was wounded, and judging by the amount of bleeding, it didn’t have long to live. Nonetheless, I couldn’t let it be. There was no guessing what a desperate monster would resort to.

“All right, let’s end this.”

I wasn’t generous enough to show pity to an animal who’d lost the use of a leg.

“Oink...”

Without really giving it the time for a death cry, I thrust my sword up into the saberboar’s mouth, piercing its brain. I’d managed to cut its tusk, so I could probably do the same to its cranium. Still, there was nothing better than a finishing thrust that took minimal effort. The insides of most living creatures’ mouths were very tender, so piercing that spot was a very efficient way of dealing a fatal blow without having to go through the skull. You did need to aim carefully, though.

“C’mere!”

After finishing off the boss, I checked the situation around me once more. It seemed the extermination was pretty much over. Curuni was energetically chasing the last saberboar.

Ah, she caught up to it and chopped off its back leg. Well, that’s the last of them. Anyway, it’s pretty crazy to catch up to a fleeing saberboar... She’s way too fast on her feet.

“Mr. Beryl, we’re done here,” Henblitz said, swinging the blood off his beloved longsword.

“Yup, well done.”

Every last drop of animal blood flew off his blade. Damn, that’s cool. The gesture really suits a man like Henblitz.

“Master, your serpent lash was perfect,” Randrid said. “Truly amazing.”

“Oh, you saw that? Thanks.”

This was one of our dojo’s techniques, so all of our graduates could use it too. This naturally applied to Randrid as well. It felt kinda nice having my skills praised by a former pupil.

“Now then...” I muttered, taking another look around.

It was a pretty ghastly scene. There were around twenty saberboars scattered about and bleeding all over. Just leaving things as they were was liable to create some other problems, which was a somewhat frightening thought. If possible, I would’ve liked to collect all the bodies, but we had nowhere near enough people to pull that off. We’d expected this, at least.

“Just to check, did any get away?” I asked the others.

“Not likely,” Randrid answered. “I believe all those that were here are dead.”

“Splendidly done.”

It seemed our swift attack had gone well. This had likely been the result of Randrid and Henblitz participating. Curuni was also a fine fighter, but everything from the search to the ultimate subjugation of our targets had gone smoothly because we had the strength of two veterans.

“Curuni, think you can lift that thing?” I asked.

“Uhhh... I’ll give it a go.”

I just wanted to see whether or not we could bring back the stupidly big saberboar. It was probably impossible—guaranteed impossible, some would say—but a part of me felt like she might be able to pull it off.

Curuni gave it her all, but she ultimately conceded. “Nope... It’s too big.”

“Oh well.”

Yup, no good. Guess that was pushing it. Even if Curuni could actually lift the thing, it would be physically impractical to transport it. Our only option was to come back later with more helping hands.

“At any rate, there are still no signs of another pack making a move,” Randrid said.

“True,” I agreed. “I’d like to check the area a little more, just in case, but...”

This had been a pretty flashy raid, but at least during the battle, no other saberboars had come this way. Even now, there were only small critters in the area. Though we couldn’t be certain, it was possible that this had been the only pack. That was something to be extremely grateful for. And considering the rapid increase in lone saberboars, it made sense.

“For now, how ’bout just taking the tusk back?” Curuni suggested.

“Yeah, let’s,” I said, nodding.

I didn’t really want to go back empty-handed, so taking the boss’s tusk sounded pretty good. It was big, so it would serve as proof of what we’d done.

“It’s been severed so brilliantly...” Henblitz observed.

I picked the tusk off the ground. “Ha ha, not too bad, if I do say so myself.”

The blade really had sliced through it cleanly. Anyone who saw it without any explanation would never guess it’d been cut off using a sword in the midst of battle. I ran my finger along the cross section—it was extremely smooth. This result was likely only possible because of the sword made of Zeno Grable’s materials.

I really was endlessly indebted to Balder and my sword. I was also starting to feel like no other sword could satisfy me. Was I a little late coming to this realization? A part of me felt like it was more than I deserved, but I also doubted I would ever let it go willingly. It was like some messed-up love affair.

“Anyway, that battle cry was pretty amazing, Master!” Curuni said.

“Ah, well, ha ha ha ha...”

It was only natural that everyone had heard me shouting so loudly—it was a little embarrassing for her to bring it up. My emotions had been running high at the time, so it did feel a little out of character. Still, those emotions hadn’t been a trick of the mind. They were truly a part of me. I wanted to be sure not to lose them again.

“Heh heh, have you broken free of some kind of shackles, Mr. Beryl?” Henblitz asked.

“Hm... I wonder about that,” I said. “Well...I think I’ve made a change for the better, at least.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Randrid and Curuni saw me as their master in swordsmanship. Henblitz, on the other hand, wasn’t my pupil. He saw me as a fellow swordsman. His sharp senses had somehow detected my emotional change. His eyes are keen as ever.

I didn’t think I’d made a bad change. Naturally, self-restraint was important, and I planned to keep mine, but it wasn’t good to keep a swordsman’s instincts too dormant either.

“Okay, not to say we’re making a grand and triumphant return, but shall we head back?” I said. “We did finish some big game, after all.”

“Yes!”

The fruits of battle were as sweet as we could ask for. We had no noticeable injuries, and none of us were exhausted. It was pretty much the ideal result. The only remaining concern was whether my pupils stationed at the foot of the mountains had gotten caught up in any unnecessary trouble. Still, we’d dealt with the majority of the saberboars, so things were probably fine...

“Oink?”

“Curuni.”

“Yessir!”

Or so I’d thought, but we bumped into yet another lone saberboar on the way back.

Seriously, how many of them are there? Haven’t they bred a bit too much this year?

◇

“Ah, Master Beryl!”

A while after eradicating the saberboar pack, we safely made our way out of the Aflatta Mountain Range. It was somewhat disconcerting that we’d bumped into several lone saberboars on the way, though. Still, all things considered, we’d culled their numbers in the vicinity significantly. I didn’t know whether they would have a breeding season again like this next year, but things were probably fine for now.

“Adel, everything fine over here?” I asked.

“Yes! I’m here, after all!” she responded energetically.

“Glad to hear it.”

We linked up with my pupils at the foot of the mountains. Not that I really cared, but even when we’d been a fair distance away, I’d spotted her in a noticeably imposing stance. Perhaps she’d been doing that during the entire operation. Her attitude was in no way inferior to that of the saberboar boss.

“U-Um... G-Good work everyone...” Edel said, being rather considerate.

“Mm. Thanks for your hard work too, Edel,” I told him.

Despite being Adel’s twin, his personality was so very different from hers. It was somewhat strange, but it gave them individuality, so it wasn’t a bad thing.

“Hmm... Did no saberboars come this way?” I asked, taking a cursory look around.

There were no signs that any fighting had taken place. I couldn’t see any blood, and my pupils were completely unharmed. I was relieved to see that the damage hadn’t extended beyond the mountains, but this might have been an unsatisfying day for my pupils, especially Adel.

“One did!” Adel responded. “But it ran away immediately...”

“Oh, is that so?”

So it hadn’t been completely uneventful. One saberboar had gotten close enough for both sides to notice each other. It was hard to imagine a saberboar withdrawing upon spotting a human, though. There had to have been some kind of circumstance behind that.

“We were being pretty flashy on our way there, so maybe it learned to be wary of humans...?” Randrid suggested.

“Aaah... That’s entirely possible,” I agreed.

It was true. We’d been actively mowing down saberboars, so perhaps one had witnessed that and had run away. Upon spotting more humans, it had chosen to flee yet again. While monsters didn’t possess intelligence, they did have a capacity to learn through instinct. A young monster with little to no combat experience was liable to recognize the threat a human poses and ultimately choose to run away.

“In short, it freaked out due to my strength!” Adel declared.

“Ha ha ha.”

There was a glimmer of truth to that—it had definitely returned to the mountains after seeing humans. Still, Adel’s confidence was astounding. She had a strong will and supreme confidence in her own skills—or perhaps, in her future. This self-important behavior was important if one wanted to live on as a swordsman. I was supposed to have settled my feelings and given up on that long ago, but it was difficult to stop dreaming about it once you started.

Randrid and I had to guide these young sprouts so that they could chase their dreams. We couldn’t tug them along from the front—that wouldn’t lead to their personal growth. We could only show them the path. Whether or not they walked it was up to them. That was how one became both a splendid person and swordsman. At least, that was what I believed.

“Th-That tusk... W-Were you the one to defeat the saberboar it came from, Master Beryl?” Edel asked.

“Hm? This?” I said. The thing was rather conspicuous—it was too large to carry in my hand. I’d lugged it back over my shoulder instead. “Well...yeah.”

“You really are amazing!” Adel exclaimed in high spirits.

I was half happy and half embarrassed. This was only one of the tusks, so if we went back to the site of the battle, there was another to retrieve. That was under assumption that no one pilfered it, but humans rarely went that deep into the mountains, so it was probably all right.

A hunter would keep one of the tusks in their home as a trophy, but I had no such fixations. It was a magnificent tusk with very few scratches on it, so it was bound to fetch a good price. At this size, it could even be popular with nobles and the like too—so depending on the merchant’s sale, it had great resale value.

“Oh, right,” I said. “The saberboars are largely dealt with, so I’d like to retrieve the spoils. The four of us aren’t enough to do it on our own, though.”

“I’ll do it! I’m in! Me!” Adel shouted immediately.

I couldn’t forget about postbattle looting. All the bodies would eventually return to nature, but given the chance to secure a source of income and meat, I wanted to do what we could to retrieve it all.

We were lacking in manpower, but Adel was ridiculously motivated. This was better than her refusing, but I didn’t see the reason for her to be so excited over collecting some carcasses. Well, as long as she’s having fun, I don’t mind.

The dangers of the Aflatta Mountain Range weren’t completely gone, but with the saberboars exterminated, it was relatively safe now. We would be returning along the route we’d already cleared, so that would considerably reduce the effort and time needed to get back to the boss.

We still had to be careful about selecting who would go into the mountains with us, though. It was too dangerous to go there acting like we were on a picnic. I wanted to ask Rob and the other village hunters, and if we were lucky, any adventurers who happened to be staying in the area. We could use the saberboar parts to pay them, and since there wouldn’t be any fighting involved, people were sure to sign up. Luck was definitely still a factor, though. It would be hard to retrieve everything.

Speaking of adventurers—it wasn’t prohibited to bypass the guild when making requests. However, the guild’s stance was that they weren’t taking any responsibility whatsoever. That meant if the adventurer took part in any crimes or were scammed, they were on their own. That said, fulfilling a simple request where they happened to be staying was pretty common for adventurers. We’d asked adventurers who’d coincidentally been in Beaden to do things before. Nothing had ever been worth going through the guild to call someone over, but if someone was already around, then there was no harm in asking.

“Looks like everyone is safe,” I said. “Shall we head back to the village?”

Henblitz nodded. “Yes, I’d like to clean up and calm down.”

Even though no one had taken any visible wounds, we all stank of sweat and animal stench. There was also quite a bit of saberboar blood on us. I definitely wanted to wash up and get changed.

“Master! Can I try holding that tusk?” Adel asked, brimming with interest.

“Yeah, sure. It’s pretty heavy, so be careful.”

I handed it over to her. The moment the weight left my shoulders, both of Adel’s arms sank momentarily. However, she toughed it out and held it up to her chest—the tusk filled her arms completely.

“Whoa... Heh heh! One day, I’ll take down something just as big!”

“Ha ha ha, I’m sure you will,” I told her. “Even I managed to.”

She was seeing a vision of herself achieving the same thing one day. Randrid and I had to do our best to guide her so that her dreams wouldn’t end as delusions. I had my job as a special instructor, so at present, this was Randrid’s duty.

“The next generation’s growth is always something to celebrate,” I said. “This really reminds me of that.”

“Indeed,” Henblitz said. “But I don’t suppose you have any intention of letting them catch up so easily, right?”

“Of course not,” I replied. “We must grow too.”

He had his pride as a swordsman and his pride as one who stood above others. Back when I was his age, I’d had my hands full just trying to be an instructor. It really highlighted how amazing he was, not only in skill but in mental fortitude as well.

“Huh? Back already?”

“Hm? What’re you doing out here, dad?”

It was a short while after linking up with my pupils and starting our walk back to Beaden. A fair distance away from the village’s defensive perimeter, we bumped into my dad. He had his sword at his waist, so it didn’t seem like he’d been on a pleasure jaunt.

“The weather was nice, so I was taking a stroll,” he said.

“Uh-huh. With your sword?”

“Oh, this? It’s like a chronic disease.”

He was probably worried about the pupils and had come out a little closer. He was strict as a father and extremely strict as an instructor, but he could also be awkwardly affectionate like this. Any kind of compliment would go straight to his head though, so I’d never said anything.

After verifying that everyone was safe, my dad’s eyes settled on the tusk in Adel’s arms.

“Hmm, that’s pretty big,” he said. “I doubt the little tyke was the one who took it down.”

“She wasn’t,” I said. “I’ve never seen one that big before.”

Unexpectedly, Adel didn’t react to what he’d said. She probably understood that she didn’t possess the ability to win against the beast that had grown that enormous tusk. She was unyielding and rowdy but not foolish.

“I guess I don’t get a turn after all,” my dad grumbled, huffing like a child.

“Don’t be like that,” I told him. “We were able to charge in precisely because you stayed back.”

If it hadn’t been for him protecting the rear, we wouldn’t have taken all our main combatants into the mountains. Randrid probably would’ve stayed behind, at least. In that case, the battle might’ve gone somewhat differently.

“You didn’t bring back any meat?” my dad asked.

“How can we possibly bring back such a huge carcass?” I said.

“Oh man, how pathetic. Back in my day—”

“You’re a senior now.”

“Shut it!”

My dad was in a great mood. His company made the walk back to Beaden rather lively.

◇

“There’s plenty of meat left! Eat up! Eat up!”

“Yahoooo!”

About a week after subjugating the saberboars in the mountains and settling all manner of affairs, the village was in a festive mood. All the saberboars we’d laboriously retrieved had been butchered, their tusks and hides sold, and Beaden was now feasting on the surplus of meat.

You could technically call this a yearly tradition, and the revelry tended to continue for several days. It was rare to be able to fill your stomach with as much meat as you could ever want, so everyone’s spirits were through the roof.

What was more, with extremely fortuitous timing, a merchant happened to be visiting the village. Thanks to that, we’d quickly been able to cash in the tusks and hides, as well as buy some alcohol and other goods for entertainment.

“Mm... That’s delicious.”

I gazed at the celebrating villagers and knocked back some lukewarm ale we’d gotten from the merchant. Out here, there was no way to get chilled ale like in Baltrain’s taverns. Nonetheless, for a village lacking in luxuries, alcohol was extremely welcome.

As I loitered around with a wooden tankard in hand, a plump man called out to me.

“Yo, Beryl. You got quite the haul this time.”

“Hi, Fuphil. Yeah, it was great. You really helped us out again.”

This was the key figure behind the curtains of the festivities—the merchant Fuphil. He was the same age as me, and he was originally from this village.

As the word “again” implied, he’d dropped by with impeccable timing more than just once or twice. Since this was his hometown, he naturally knew about the saberboar problem. In other words, he knew when he could get a large haul of cheap goods to turn into profit.

Saberboar hides and tusks went for a pretty good price. However, considering where you had to hunt them, very few adventurers bothered. It just wasn’t worth the effort. Things were different for our village, though. We took down a fixed number of saberboars every year without relying on outside help. Fuphil didn’t have to pay adventurers or mercenaries to do the hunting. Instead, he traded directly with the village and took zero risks.

“This is a profitable time of the year for me,” he said. “And there was a real big one this time too. You’re the ones helping me out.”

“Ha ha, think you’ll get a good price for that tusk?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping to make a hefty sum.”

Fuphil was a merchant but not a villain. He had plenty of affection for his hometown. That was why he sold luxury goods like alcohol as well as everyday necessities to us wholesale at pretty cheap prices. Taking that discount into consideration, the village had no need to make things difficult by haggling. Besides, we had no connections with the outside to sell them ourselves, so it was only natural for the profits to fall to him.

“You’ll have to treat those kids you got as guards,” I told him.

“Of course. It ended up being a worthwhile job for them.”

Transporting the saberboars had been a laborious task. This was a consequence of there being far more lone saberboars this year that had dispersed from that stupidly huge boss’s base. So, we’d had the four adventurers Fuphil had hired as guards for his trip here help with the work. They were all young, but they were silver ranks with the abilities to match.

It was apparently pretty much unheard of for white and bronze ranks to be hired as guards on a journey. You couldn’t entrust your life to a novice who possessed no accomplishments or abilities, so that made sense. It was the path of a newcomer to slowly build trust by taking on relatively safe investigation requests or suppression requests for small monsters—much like Porta and Needry now did.

“Pwah! Ale after a job well done really hits the spot!”

“Curuni, try not to drink too much,” I told her.

“Yessir!”

She’d once confessed to being a lightweight, and here she was, knocking back tankard after tankard. This wasn’t a mission for the order or anything, so it was fine for her to let loose—to an extent. Still, I wondered whether she would be all right tomorrow if she kept drinking at that pace. I’d given her a warning, but it didn’t really look like she was going to listen.

Either way, I hoped this trip to Beaden had served as a good breather for her. Even if she did get wasted, we could just let her rest and recover in my house. If she collapsed, the least I could do was carry her there.

“Okay, I’m going to join the adventurers,” Fuphil said.

I nodded and repeated my warning to him. “All right. Try not to drink too much.”

“I’ll be careful. Neither of us are young anymore.”

Fuphil’s belly shook as he cackled, and he walked off in a great mood. It was hard to believe we’d swung wooden swords together back in the day. We were the same age and from the same village, but the paths we now walked had diverged so much. One wasn’t better than the other, of course. I had my way of life, and he had his. It was rude to decide whether one was a success or failure. Besides, he was doing pretty well as a merchant.

With Fuphil gone, I was on my own again, staring at the festivities. Mewi soon came over to say hello.

“Hey, old guy... Thanks for the hard work...”

“Yo, Mewi. You eating your fill?”

This was an unfamiliar place and lifestyle to her, so she’d been really nervous at first. However, thanks to my dad, mom, and Curuni’s gallant efforts, she seemed to have loosened up significantly.

“The meat...is really good,” Mewi said.

“Glad to hear it.”

We had as much meat as we wanted, but there were no real cooking facilities or any kind of specialized seasonings. So we simply roasted the meat, and the only things we could add for flavor were salt and some herbs we’d procured. We could also smoke some meat to preserve it for later. Regardless, it was still meat, and it was apparently enough of a treat for Mewi’s palate that she had felt the need to be honest about her delight.

“So, how do you like Beaden?” I asked. “Not that there’s anything out here to be proud of.”

From the perspective of a student attending the magic institute in the big city, the backcountry had to be pretty boring. Still, getting away from the hustle and bustle of the capital for a slow and easy life was time well spent. Especially considering Mewi’s background and upbringing, I wanted her to let loose without having to worry about all the eyes around her.

“Mm... I think it’s nice,” she said.

“That’s good.”

The villagers had welcomed Mewi warmly. In such a small community, newcomers were generally accepted or ostracized by everyone at once. Mewi had the advantage of coming with me, so there’d been no ill feelings toward her at all. Also, my dad’s influence in this village was tremendous. On paper, Mewi was his family, so the villagers couldn’t treat her poorly. Not that Mewi needed to know any of this. She just had to understand that she was welcome here in Beaden.

“Is that ale?” she asked after a while of staring at the festivities in silence.

“Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

It was pretty rare for her to show an interest in things, but it seemed she was wondering about the contents of my tankard. My drink was nothing special, though—just lukewarm ale. Regardless of whether a child like Mewi could have alcohol, the drink didn’t seem all that eye-catching to me.

“I...want to try some,” she said.

“Whaaa...?”

Is she at an age where she’s interested in alcohol? What do I do? A reasonable adult should refuse her. But plenty of people try a drink or two before coming of age. Should I let it happen in front of me?

“What? I can’t?” she asked, pouting.

“Ah, um, well... Hmmm...”

Crap, what do I do? Personally, I wanted to let her. Mewi was rarely self-indulgent, but here she was, pleading with me. However, on the off chance she got addicted to the taste... The thought was rather frightening.

Such experiences were meant to be taken step-by-step with the passing of one’s years. However, given the way she was speaking, she’d already considered my refusal. Still...she was the one who’d brought it up. Could I really say no and ignore her courage? My desire to meet her expectations as a parent clashed violently with my common sense telling me I should refuse as an upstanding adult.

“Just...a little, okay?”

“Mm.”

Aaad common sense lost. Whatever. It’s fine. Nobody else is looking. I just have to make sure she doesn’t have too much. Yup. That settles it.

Mewi accepted the tankard and started by sniffing it. Ale had a low alcohol content, so the smell wasn’t too harsh. It seemed that the first barrier preventing her from trying it was cleared. She timidly brought the tankard to her lips and tilted it back. The slightest amount of the flat, lukewarm ale entered her mouth and assaulted her tongue.

“Erk... Bitter...”

“Ha ha ha ha!”

Mewi’s taste buds immediately threw up the white flag. Her expression matched her “Erk” perfectly. She never really smiled for anyone, and this rare grimace was also precious.

“I’ve had enough...” Mewi shoved the tankard back into my hands.

“Heh heh, looks like it’s a little early for you.”

“Hmph.”

To be fair, I hadn’t always favored ale. My first memory of trying alcohol had been back when I’d just become an adult, and I’d wondered why anyone would drink it. Nonetheless, perhaps admiring an adult’s tastes, I’d continued drinking the stuff and had eventually gotten used to it until it had become an indispensable pleasure of life.

In other words...the same thing was happening to Mewi. She hated being treated like a child. However, regardless of her own feelings on the matter, Mewi was just a child in the eyes of the public. I wanted to cherish her rebellious side, to an extent, but that was the objective truth. That was why, even if only superficially, she was trying to become an adult by trying the alcohol I enjoyed on a daily basis. It also could have been out of genuine curiosity, but I believed I’d been a definite influence.

“There’s no need to hurry,” I told her. “You’ll develop a taste for it one day.”

“That so...?”

I understood how she felt, but either way, she would one day become an adult and her sense of taste would change. Once she grew up, those around her would also naturally come to see her as an adult.

Yes, one day, it would be natural to see her as an adult. Growth in body and mind would change the public’s perception of her. On the surface, I was also a proper adult. I’d ended up in a position to send tons of pupils out into the world, and now I even had a splendid title. I believed I was doing my best.

But had I truly matured? Had I become an adult by pretending to be one? I’d never even questioned it before, but lately, it seemed like I was constantly conscious of it. This had been on my mind ever since Allucia had taken me from Beaden.

Some people could probably sense this in me, much like Henblitz had. Still, I didn’t think this was a bad change—I could see it as still having room for growth. I couldn’t do much about my deteriorating stamina, though.

“Ooh, Beryl. So this is where you’ve been.”

And as such thoughts ran through my mind, a new voice called out to me. It was my dad. Judging by his tone, he’d been looking for me. Has something happened? I didn’t think I had anything in particular to talk with him about.

“Mewi,” he said, “mind lending me this guy for a sec?”

“Mm... Sure...”

“Ha ha ha! Thanks!”

“Wh-What? Something happen?” I asked.

“Just be quiet and come with me,” he said.

“Whaaa...?”

Guess I have no right to refuse? I mean, isn’t this weird? Why ask Mewi for permission before asking me? I’m right here. This old man is the same as ever...

“So? What do you want?” I asked. “Something you don’t want Mewi to hear?”

“Now, now, just come with me.”

I figured it was something he didn’t want to say in front of a child, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I really had no idea what this could be about. He just kept pestering me to come along without telling me why. It made no sense.

“Here...?”

“This is a rare opportunity,” he said. “Keep me company for a while.”

Still not knowing what was going on, I found myself in the place where my swordsmanship had been fostered—the dojo.

“Keep you company with what?” I asked.

“There’s only one thing two swordsmen can do once they’re in a dojo, right?”

I couldn’t figure out what he was getting at. I understood what he meant but not why.

Ignoring my bewilderment, my dad took two wooden swords that were leaning against the wall, then threw one to me. “I wanna check on my brat’s skills now that he’s finally gotten off his ass and gone to the city... Is that so strange?”

“Not really...”

He was technically making sense—it wasn’t that unreasonable. But if that were the case, we could’ve done this at any time during my stay in Beaden. I still couldn’t tell why he’d chosen now. Even though the village had welcomed her, I didn’t really want to leave Mewi alone. Maybe I was being overprotective.

At any rate, since he wasn’t being unreasonable, I couldn’t really refuse. It’s useless to try and figure out what’s going through this old man’s head. Probably just his usual whimsy. He sounded pathetic every time he grumbled, “Oh, my hips, my hips, they hurt,” but I understood how important the hips were to a swordsman.

There were differences in the human body from person to person, but once you passed your peak, it was all downhill from there. The best you could do was try to maintain the status quo. Even then, it got harder and harder as the years went by. I knew this very well. My dad was older than me, so it had to be very hard on him.

Ironically, I’d only learned that after getting old myself. I hadn’t had any problems with my body during my youth. However, even taking that into consideration, I didn’t feel like I could win against my dad. I’d never won against him. It’d always ended with me being toyed with and beaten black and blue. I had a better technique now than during my youth, but this absolute conviction remained rooted within me.

“All right, now that you’ve accepted, let’s get to it,” he said.

“I don’t remember saying yes...”

He really didn’t listen to anything I said. My objection fell on deaf ears, and my dad readied his wooden sword before him, his hands at waist level and the tip of the blade held up diagonally. This was our dojo’s standard stance. Well, it was standard for pretty much any style.

“Haaah... Fine.”

Just as always, he wasn’t going to listen, no matter what I said. I could only go along with it. Not one part of me thought of holding back because he was an old man—I had to give it my all if I wanted to even stand a chance. If I did hold back, I would just be beaten to a pulp like always. I wanted to avoid losing pathetically, even if no one was watching. I did have some pride.

“Shyah!”

The moment my dad saw me take a stance, he kicked off the ground.

What?! No starting signal?! C’mon! This is all too sudden! My dad’s opening move was a thrust to gauge his opponent’s reaction. Among all sword strikes, this required the least preparatory movements and left very few openings.

Block or dodge? In the smallest fraction of a second, I chose to sway my upper body to evade. As I did, I swung my wooden sword up from below. My timing was supposed to be perfect, but my dad pulled back his weapon immediately and blocked my counterattack.

“Heyaaah!”

Using the momentum of repelling my sword, my dad stepped in and launched a chain of attacks. Horizontal slash, thrust, upward slash, downward strike, switching the grip, another horizontal slash, counterattack, thrust—

“Hmph!”

I dodged all of them. My dad’s sword was fast and flowed like water. No matter how much he withered with age, the techniques he’d fostered hadn’t vanished. He was likely putting in effort out of sight so that the light of his techniques wasn’t snuffed out. These weren’t the strikes of a man who’d set aside his sword for many years while constantly lamenting about back pain. If I had to guess, I’d say he was only a little slower than Allucia...

“Haaah!”

Right. My dad is strong. He’s unmistakably strong. An average swordsman would’ve already lost in this exchange. But I can see everything. I’m dodging. I’m counterattacking. These attacks are just a little slower than Allucia’s. My brain can keep up. It’s become able to keep up.

Up until now, I’d never been able to properly follow my dad’s sword strokes. My eyes were supposed to be better than his, but he was abnormally good at weaving his attacks through gaps in my awareness. A blade’s speed was definitely important, but an attack that had nothing but speed going for it was actually relatively easy to read. In other words, the crux of my dad’s strength wasn’t supposed to come from simple speed.

“Shyaah!”

My dad stepped in with fervor, closing the gap splendidly with no unnecessary movements. But I could see it. It wasn’t easy, but I could handle it.

“Dad, are your hips—”

“You dare insult me like that?!” he shouted.

His expression showed that his stamina had in fact deteriorated with age, but he wasn’t worn out. He didn’t show any signs of an aching back either. Only a short while had passed since the beginning of this bout. Only a failure of a swordsman would be exhausted at this stage.

I understood all this. I really did. My dad—Mordea Gardenant—wasn’t in bad condition. Well, he wasn’t suffering from any condition at the moment. I could tell at a glance—he was facing Beryl Gardenant with every ounce of strength he had.

And I, Beryl Gardenant, could win against Mordea Gardenant.

“Shhh!”

I repelled his thrust, stepped in, and slid my wooden sword along his blade. I held nothing back. I swung my sword with all the might I could muster. The tip of my blade went unerringly for my dad’s neck. And just as it was on the border of touching his skin, I pulled it to a stop.

“Gaaah!” he hollered, his voice raspy. “I couldn’t win!”

I looked at the tip of my sword near his neck, and he quietly set his own sword down onto the floor. “Dad...”

I didn’t sense anything tragic in his behavior. It was as if it had been perfectly natural for him to lose—as if he’d never intended to win from the very beginning.

“Dad... I...”

I had no idea how to explain this feeling inside me. I was, of course, happy that I’d beaten my dad. My eyes had perfectly captured the sword strokes I’d spent years being unable to see. It had been a tremendous performance, and it was no exaggeration to say that this was the outcome I’d been dreaming of for years. What else could I be but happy?

“Hah? You won, but you still have some kinda problem?” my dad asked.

“Ah, no...”

However, a vague sadness kept running through my heart.

“Thank you...for the bout...” I said.

“Yeah... You’ve gotten strong, Beryl.”

“Huh?!”

It was weird. Why did I feel like crying? Beating my dad had been my goal for many, many years. And here, I’d bested him with no room for argument. I’d won against Mordea Gardenant, the father who was always so irritatingly easygoing but so ridiculously strong with a sword. I was supposed to be happy. I should’ve been cheering. No one would’ve faulted me for saying things like “Yeah! That’s for making fun of me all these years!” or getting on my high horse with some resentful complaints. I was the victor, after all.

Also, my dad’s behavior was unusual. Wasn’t he vexed about losing to his son? He’d done nothing but win against me before this.

“You know...I’ve definitely gotten old,” my dad said. “Both my stamina and muscles have deteriorated.”

His tone was so light and easygoing—it was as if he were possessed. I couldn’t hear a hint of regret in his voice, and I didn’t know what kind of face he was making. My body was still bent at the waist, and my head hung low. I didn’t want to imagine what kind of face I was making.

“However, not once have I ever considered my caliber as a swordsman to have degraded.”

I was shocked into silence. In other words, if he was so inclined, he could still move as he had during his prime. He hadn’t considered that a good thing, though. He’d yielded the dojo to me—the next generation. I’d been nothing more than a fledgling at the time. I was able to beat him now, but I couldn’t imagine my younger self accomplishing the same. In truth, I’d done nothing but lose.

“You thought I gave you the dojo simply because I was starting to deteriorate, right?” he asked.

“Didn’t you...?”

“Of course not, dumbass.”

I could tell my voice was trembling a little, but my dad didn’t point that out. Normally, he would’ve taken joy in teasing me. However, the important thing right now was that, contrary to what I’d believed for years, he hadn’t bowed out due to his aging body. So why had he?

“It’s ’cause I thought you were stronger than me,” he explained. “What other reason could I have possibly had for handing it over? Well, I admit I missed the opportunity to tell you that for quite a while.”

I’m...stronger...than my dad? I couldn’t bring myself to say, “You should’ve told me that right away!” Back then, I doubt I would’ve believed him no matter what he said. I would’ve just continued brushing it off, telling him he was being ridiculous or that he had to be joking. I never would’ve taken him seriously. Part of this was because of my dad’s personality. I knew him well, and it must’ve been really hard for him to honestly tell his son that. As a result, we’d ended up dragging this strange misunderstanding on for many years.

I felt so pathetic.

“Beryl.”

A weight suddenly fell on my bowed head.

“You’ve gotten strong,” my dad repeated. “You’ve definitely gotten strong. Take pride in it.”

“Y-Yesh...!” I replied, fumbling over my words.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. A rugged, rocklike hand covered in calluses patted my head. Something within me ruptured.

On that day, I, Beryl Gardenant, finally inherited the legacy of my predecessor in the truest sense. I was released from the emotional restraints—the curse—that had been binding me for years.