Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 11 - Chapter 2

2. Why Was I Born?

Quietly.

First and foremost, quietly.

Don’t let my footsteps make noise.

Inch forward.

Ranta wasn’t a thief or a hunter, but his creeping had to be top class by now. Was this a case of Big Daddy being the father of development?

What? That wasn’t how the saying went? Was it necessity was the godmother of invention? Well, whatever, it was a skill he desperately needed, so of course he was going to improve as he did it.

Good, good.

Just a bit further.

It’s in the grass.

Its slimy skin was spotted green and brown. Its rear legs were bent, and its front legs were lifting up its body. Its round eyes weren’t looking his way.

It’s okay, Ranta told himself. It’s not moving. That means it hasn’t noticed me yet.

Still... it’s huge.

No matter how you cut it, that thing looked like a frog. He’d have given eight to nine out of ten odds that it was definitely a frog, but it was a fist-sized—no, a baby-sized frog.

It’s a big one, he thought. Yeah. No matter what, isn’t that too big...?

Suddenly, a doubt crossed his mind. Is it really a frog?

Could there even be such a large frog? He was no expert on frogs, but it wouldn’t be that strange if there was. That was the feeling he got. Even with dogs, there were small breeds and large breeds. With such a froggy silhouette, it had to be a frog. It was just huge, that was all.

But what about poison?

Poison, huh... He hadn’t been thinking about that at all.

He didn’t remember clearly, but weren’t there poisonous frogs, too? Well, most living beings that were poisonous looked poisonous.

Right? Maybe not, huh? Like with snakes, poisonous or not, they didn’t look all that different, did they? Mushrooms, too. The mushrooms that looked poisonous could be surprisingly edible, and the ones that looked like you could totally eat them were sometimes bad news, too. Not that mushrooms were animals. Still, they were living beings all the same.

No, no, no! he told himself. Don’t waver. Yeah, this is no time to be indecisive. I’m hungry here.

If he didn’t eat it, he’d die. Well, maybe not, but he knew it would be best to eat something now while he still had the strength to do so.

Once he could no longer move properly, even securing food to eat would become difficult. He could move around now, but he wasn’t an expert on surviving in the wild like a hunter, so it wasn’t that easy to find edible things.

Birds and beasts were stupidly cautious, and when he tried to get close, they ran away. He could probably get bugs, somehow, but if possible, he wanted to avoid eating them, so he’d be keeping that as a last resort.

So what about frogs? When he thought about it, he didn’t have any misgivings. In fact, they seemed like they might be a real feast.

If he just jumped on the frog that was about a meter in front of him and bit into it whole, that’d be gross, but if he skinned it first, couldn’t he make it tasty?

His mouth started to water.

All right, he told himself.

If it was poisonous, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. If his tongue tingled, he could just spit it out. He had confidence in his danger sense and his reflexes.

I’m gonna eat, he decided. I’ll catch it, and eat it. I’ll eat it good.

He came close to shouting his skill name out of force of habit, but he forced himself not to.

Here I go. Without a word! Silent Leap Out!

He leapt straight forward, and reached out with both hands. That was exactly when it happened.

It jumped, too.

“Wha...?!”

His left and right hand grasped nothing as they collided with one another. How could this be? Had he let it get away?!

Its quick reaction to perceived danger and incredible jumping ability shocked him. With one leap, it had moved a full two meters. It was no ordinary frog, after all.

“Dammit! You’re not getting away!” he shouted.

If that’s how this is going to be, I’ll get serious. Yeah. Without realizing it, I was underestimating it. Huge though it might be, I thought it was just a frog. Don’t think of that thing as a frog. Think of it as an enemy to be struck down.

“Ngh! You’re dead! Leap Out!” He jumped.

“Leap Out!” He jumped.

“Leap Out!”

“Leap Out!”

“Leap Out!”

He jumped, not giving it, or himself for that matter, time to breathe. “Leap Out, Leap Out, Leap Out!”

He jumped, and jumped, and jumped after it. Each time he closed in with Leap Out, he reached out to capture it. However, each and every time, it dodged him at the last possible second. It wasn’t even looking at him. It always had its butt turned his way. It was like it had eyes in its back.

The moment he thought that, he realized that on its back, what had looked like spots near its butt were actually eyelids.

No doubt about it. Those were eyelids. It had eyes in its back, or more like in its butt, too.

“Gross!” he shrieked. “Leap Out is what I’ll feint with, and then...?! Then...?!”

When he went to jump and then didn’t, the frog also started to jump and then stopped.

“Heh! Got you!”

He threw off its timing, then used Leap Out. This would clinch it.

It would—or it was supposed to, but the frog still slipped through his fingers and got away.

“Just how good are you?!” he raged.

This isn’t just any enemy, he fumed. What a powerful enemy it is. I have to see it as my fated rival now. I won’t let it get away. I swear I’m going to take it down. I’ll eat it, no matter what. How could I live without eating? I’m so hungry that my stomach’s pressed damn flat. What does that even mean? I don’t know, you damn frog! Damn you, frog! You’re just a frog! A damn frog!

Thus he leapt tens... no, hundreds of times. Seriously.

Man, he was tired. Seriously, seriously. Of course he was tired.

“But thanks to that, man,” he muttered... “Bwah!”

He tried to let out a big laugh, but only a small one came out.

In the hot, humid forest, he was all alone, sweaty, standing there with a much-too-large frog clasped in his hands. What was one to make of this situation?

“Damn, I’m cool...” he muttered.

Huh?

Was that it?

It was hard to say, but whatever the case, he’d reached his objective. The big frog that had been flailing all of its legs until a moment ago had finally gave up and was being quiet now. However, having eyes in its butt was creepy, to say the least. They were blinking, too. Staring at him.

“D-Don’t look,” he said. “I’m gonna eat you now...”

The big frog croaked. Was it begging for its life? That was futile, of course. In the end, this world was built on survival of the fittest, and the food chain. He couldn’t fight on an empty stomach.

“Don’t hold this against me... Nah, I guess it’s okay if you do. If you want to resent me, resent me. I’m A-okay with that. It’s not like I’m trying to act tough or anything.”

With that cool and cute line, he used his spare knife to quickly end the frog’s life, skin it, pluck out its eyeballs, remove the internal organs, and—what was he to make of this? It was shaped like a frog, albeit a big one, but inside it, there was a lump of delicious-looking light pink meat. He wished he could cook it, but it’d be bad to start a fire. He had no water to wash it with, either.

Looks like I just have to chow down like this, huh? Here goes. Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing to be scared of. The world is all one?! No spice is better than hunger! I’m gonna eat. Eat. Eat it. Eat!

Theeeeeeere! How’s that?!

He ate it. Ate it good. He spit out the bones, but the rest he completely devoured.

“Honestly, yeah,” he muttered.

Throwing both his hands down on the ground, he squinted in the faint light the streamed through the leaves.

“The taste... Yeah. It wasn’t good, or anything like that. It felt more like, ‘Well, I ate something, at least.’ That’s important, huh. Yeah. It didn’t make my tongue tingle, and my belly doesn’t hurt. For now, that is. I’ll bet I can move for days on this. It probably—”

He burped, and it made him scowl despite himself. It had a froggy, raw stench to it.

“...It’s proof I’m still alive.”

Yeah.

I’m alive. I want to shout it out loud.

I’m alive!

I’m living like crazy!

How do you like that?!

Look how my life seems to shine!

He wasn’t gonna shout it, though.

“Ranta!” a voice shouted.

Hearing his name called, Ranta nearly jumped up, but no, he absolutely couldn’t do that. In times like this, rather than scramble around in a panic, it was better for him to be prepared to move right away if he needed to.

He wouldn’t stand up. He’d stay a little more than half crouched, his upper body leaning forward.

Where had that voice come from?

Not nearby. From the way it sounded, the speaker was tens of meters away, maybe about a hundred meters.

He’d been lurking around Thousand Valley for over ten days now. He had no clue where he currently was. He’d gotten out of the thick fog, at least. This area had morning mist, but that was all, and right now there was hardly any haze at all. However, the thick trees and uneven topography made visibility bad.

“Ranta! I know you’re there, Ranta!”

There was that voice again. Was it closer than last time? Well? He couldn’t say for certain.

“Damn that old man,” Ranta muttered, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.

I know you’re there, Takasagi had said.

Really? That wasn’t a bluff? Unlike the frog he’d just eaten, this was a shrewd old man. His intuition was sharp, so he might have a vague idea of roughly where Ranta might be, but he probably hadn’t pinned down his exact location.

If he knew exactly, there would be no need to shout out and alert Ranta. He’d just have to creep in. If he wasn’t doing that, it meant Takasagi hadn’t found Ranta yet.

Also, it was guaranteed that Onsa wasn’t working with him. That goblin beast master had tamed black wolves and nyaas. Onsa’s nyaas had been devastated, and there were only a few left, but the pack of black wolves led by his big black wolf Garo was intact. If Onsa were around, the black wolves would have already sniffed Ranta out and be closing in.

This was just Takasagi and some orcs or undead. He could get away. Or, at the very least, he still thought he had some chance to slip away.

He had to take action calmly. That was the main thing.

They were waiting for him to panic and come out. So he wouldn’t move. He was just going to stay put for now. Then he’d watch the area around him.

Open his eyes wide. Perk up his ears.

About three meters in front of him, there was a tree that was awfully twisted, to the point that it looked like a mass of tangled tentacles. Ranta walked next to that tree, keeping his footsteps silent. Was it a single tree? Or was it a mass of many different trees? Well, what did it matter?

Ranta leaned against that tree. Quietly, he took a deep breath.

“Ranta!” Takasagi shouted. “Come out, Ranta! Do it now, and I won’t kill you, Ranta!”

This time, it was a little closer—maybe?

Takasagi was probably closing in little by little. But he wasn’t super close yet.

Do it now, and I won’t kill you, Takasagi had said.

Was he going to forgive Ranta for joining Forgan and then escaping? If Takasagi forgave him, Jumbo probably wouldn’t say anything. He might even accept him as a comrade again.

No, no, Ranta told himself. Takasagi only said he wouldn’t kill me. Even if he doesn’t take my life, he’s still gotta plan on doing something terrible to me, right? There’s no way he’s going to laugh it off and let it slide. Well, of course not, right? I mean, I betrayed him, after all.

“Ranta...!”

How many times had that voice yelled at him? He thought back...

“I’ll use this scrap of wood,” the old man said, and then picked up not just any scrap of wood, but a thin, dry, twisted old branch, before gesturing to Ranta with his chin. “You use your own sword, Ranta.”

“That’s a pretty big handicap, old man... You think you can underestimate me!”

It made him angry, but Ranta drew RIPer like he was told to and prepared himself.

He had gotten his hands on this weapon at Well Village in Darunggar, or rather he’d bought it from the blacksmith. It was a two-handed sword, but the blade wasn’t that long, and it was lighter and easier to use than it looked. The ricasso at the base of the blade had a protuberance, and he was fond of its vicious appearance. It would be no exaggeration to say that Ranta had cut down many enemies with this beloved sword of his.

You think you can take it on with that branch? Don’t be full of yourself, old man— was not a thing he thought, though.

Takasagi lowered his left hand, which he was holding the branch with, slightly, and stood up straight with his knees unbent.

He was about two meters away from Ranta.

If Ranta stepped into it, a slash or thrust would hit. What was more, Ranta was a dread knight, someone who specialized in high speed movement. He could reduce that distance to nothing in an instant.

Takasagi didn’t even have his arm up, and all he had was a branch anyway. Even if he hit Ranta, it wouldn’t hurt at all. It shouldn’t have been scary at all.

Yet his breathing had grown strained. His feet... no, his whole body was cowering.

The old man could kill me at any time.

No, that couldn’t be right. It was a branch, you know? A branch. That, and a look on the guy’s face. His single eye was half open, his neck slightly tilted, and his jaw slack.

It was an expression that made Ranta want to complain. I humiliated myself asking you to train me, and you agreed, even if it was only reluctantly. Come on, man, take this seriously. Shape up.

Had this man just woken up? Was he hung over or something? Despite that, why...?

Ranta couldn’t win.

No matter how he had attacked, he couldn’t win.

Did it only feel that way? Takasagi could see through Ranta completely. Was that overrating him?

Ranta could test it. If he did, he’d know for sure.

“What’s wrong?” Takasagi lifted up the branch, finally, but then all he did was move his wrist and twirl it around. “Come at me, Ranta. You want to get strong, right? If you stay there cowering, you’re never gonna make any progress.”

“...Yeah, I know that.” Ranta’s voice quivered slightly when he responded.

“Do you really understand?” Takasagi wore a slight smile. “That’s doubtful.”

Now’s the time!

It wasn’t something he decided. You could say it was his wild instincts. Ranta’s body sensed something and reacted.

It had felt perfect. Leap Out followed by Hatred. Basically, he’d jumped in and slashed downwards. It was simple, but a one-hit kill. He didn’t hold back at all.

If Takasagi had been holding a sword, he might barely have been able to block it. But not with a branch. He couldn’t hope to avoid it, either. This one strike was unavoidable. Ranta could say with confidence that it was a perfect Hatred.

Takasagi took a step to the left, and simply let RIPer go by. He stroked RIPer slightly with his branch, then struck Ranta in the face with it.

“Gah?!”

Did he see it coming?!

“It’s written on your face.” Takasagi planted a kick on the back of Ranta’s knee to throw him off balance, then pushed him in the back with his foot.

Ranta pitched forward. “Whoa!”

“You’re weak.”

“Urgh!” Ranta rolled forward. “Dammit!” He instantly turned around, only to be hit in the face with that branch again. “Ack!”

“You’re easy,” Takasagi said.

Ranta had taken a whole lot of punches and kicks before falling over, and when he tried to get up again, he was punched and kicked. RIPer was no longer in his hands. He’d dropped it at some point. He couldn’t lay a hand on Takasagi.

He flipped over, hitting his back and rear end, and as he lay flat on his back writhing, Takasagi sat down on his stomach.

“Gwuh!” Ranta yelped.

“You don’t have it together at all. What do you mean, you want to get stronger? Don’t make me laugh, you pissant.”

“You said yourself... that you weren’t always strong... didn’t you...?”

“Well, yeah,” Takasagi said, sneering. “But, thinking about it, I don’t think I was as bad as you.”

“If it were the you of ten years ago... you said... even I could’ve beaten you...”

“Don’t take that nonsense seriously, you moron. Even the me of ten years ago was obviously a hundred times stronger than the you of right now.”

“Th-That’s... harsh...”

“You make a lot of extraneous moves.” Takasagi tossed the branch, put his pipe in his mouth, and started smoking.

There he goes, puffing away while sitting on someone else’s stomach. Who does he think he is, damn it? If I tried to throw him off, it’s not like I couldn’t. But I bet I’d take another pounding right away. What should I do...?

“There’s something losing an eye and an arm taught me,” Takasagi told him. “Humans—well, I guess this goes for orcs and other races, too, but we end up carrying all these things we don’t need without realizing it. Getting stronger isn’t about increasing the number of moves you make. It’s about trimming the fat, and polishing what you have. It’s about how much you can do what you need to do, without doing anything unnecessary. Ranta, you don’t seem like you’d be good at that.”

“Don’t say that... like every part of me... is unnecessary...”

“After losing my arm...” Takasagi blew smoke, and wound back his left arm. Then he silently swung it down.

Oh, crap!

Takasagi had only swung his left arm. However, the katana in his left hand, its arc... Ranta could imagine it vividly. It didn’t exist, but Ranta could see it.

“I did nothing but swing my katana,” Takasagi said. “I was right-handed, after all. I realized that if I was going to live with just my left arm, I was going to have to break it in. Every day, every single day, I swung and swung and swung until I collapsed.”

“Work hard, you’re saying?” Ranta asked.

“Hard work is worthless.”

“No, but you were just saying...”

“Why did I keep swinging my katana so much? Simple. In the beginning, I couldn’t do it as well as with my right hand, and that pissed me off. But, you know, at some point, it started getting interesting.”

“...Seriously?”

“Seeing what was wrong, how I could do better, and such. Noticing things, fixing them, testing things out. That repetition was interesting.”

“That’s one warped fetish,” Ranta muttered.

“Do you think that without thinking, just continuing to swing, I could get my left arm as good at using a katana as my right had been? Sure, even if that was the only thing I did, like an idiot, I’d get some degree of growth out of doing it. Only to a certain degree, though.”

“You’re saying I’m not thinking?” Ranta accused.

“Not enough, that’s for sure. Normal people have to use their bodies until they collapse, and then they can finally see the difference between them and a genius.”

“Even I know that,” Ranta muttered.

“You must know a really strong guy or two,” Takasagi said. “But the way you are now, all you know is that they’re awesome. How exactly are they different from you? What could you do to trip them up? You have no idea, right?”

“I’ve got an idea, at least...”

“I’ve thought up a thousand ways to beat our boss, and three of them I’m confident would work.”

“Beat Jumbo?” Ranta asked, dumbfounded.

“The boss knows this, but my goal is to kill him.”

Ranta couldn’t believe it. “Why would you want to kill Jumbo?”

“The boss’s the one who lopped my arm off, you see. I don’t hold it against him, but if I can, I want to kill him before I die. If I could kill the boss, that’d have to feel pretty great. I’d be happy, with no regrets left. It’d be amazing, and—I’m sure all that’d be left after that is to die.”

“You really are crazy.”

“You think?” Takasagi asked. “It’s my life’s goal. Having one gives me something to strive for.”

“...Life’s goal...”

Do I have one of those? Ranta wondered.

When he asked himself that... faces came to mind.

Not one. Several faces.

No way, he thought. Why their faces? That’s crazy. They’re my life’s goal? What the hell? It makes no sense.

I only met them by chance, and was only working them for a brief time in the long, long life ahead of me. Sure, in Darunggar, I thought at times I might be with them until the day I died. But that was simply because the situation made it appropriate to think so. There were some friendly folks in Darunggar, so I might have found myself a partner like Unjo did, and I might have broken up with them. Who would hang out with those guys forever by choice? Moguzo was different. He was my partner, but the others, they were only comrades.

You could say we only knew each other through work. With them, I never felt at ease, or that they were where I belonged, honestly. We had a basic level of trust, but I didn’t like them, and they didn’t like me. It was less mutual recognition, and more that we compromised and put up with one another.

This place isn’t like that. Forgan’s different.

Only a few of them understood the human language, and they didn’t get clingy, and he was mostly left to his own devices, but it was strange how rarely he felt ostracized. Naturally, there had to be some of them who were less than fond of Ranta. He wasn’t trusted. Despite that, he was being accepted.

What was he to make of this? He couldn’t be trusted, and there was no way they did trust him, but they treated him like an ordinary comrade. Maybe this openness, this depth, was what was creating this unique sense that it felt good to be here.

Probably it was all up to how he acted from here. He just had to act in a way that said, I’m definitely one of you guys. If he did that, everyone would gradually grow to trust him. He’d eventually join their circle of friends. It was a shame there were no women, but that also meant he didn’t have to be considerate of any women’s feelings, so there were ups and downs to it.

He closed his eyes.

He could easily imagine a future here.

He’d fit in more and more, living every day with good humor. Even if he rebelled occasionally, there were people who’d hold his head down and make him apologize. He’d have chances to go as wild as he wanted, too.

That outfit Jumbo wore, he liked it. It was cool. If he got his hands on that, he’d wear it over his armor.

Nah, maybe he wouldn’t even need armor. Jumbo didn’t wear any, after all. Yeah. Mobility was his greatest asset, so he was better off without heavy armor, honestly.

No matter what the attack, if it didn’t land, he was fine. He just had to dodge, right? He could learn to dodge. What would he need to do to get to that point? There were people here he could ask about that.

What he had always wanted... He couldn’t quite put into words what it was, but whatever it was, he felt like it was here.

“Ranta!” Takasagi called his name.

“...Yeah?”

No matter how he looked, it had never seemed like he’d be able to have it. That’s why he’d half... no, mostly given up on it.

There was no place for him, and no one could ever understand him. Why did he feel that way? He didn’t know. Had there been some trigger, and after that, he’d started to think it? Even if there had been a trigger, it must have been before coming to Grimgar. He couldn’t remember it.

It doesn’t feel right, he thought. Nothing ever does. No matter where I am. My heart’s on edge. Or it was, huh. Now, maybe not so much.

“What?” Ranta asked.

“Do you really want to become strong?”

Was that his life’s goal? That was what Takasagi was asking.

For instance, if he wanted to get stronger, was that the goal? Or was getting stronger only as a means to an end, and he wanted to accomplish something with that strength? Or was the desire to get stronger an escape, and he was just trying to avert his eyes from what he needed to be facing?

What do I want to do? What’s my wish? he wondered. I have no idea. Like I ever would.

“Get off me already, old man,” he muttered. “How long are you going to sit on my stomach? I’m not a chair, okay?”

“Not gonna happen.” Takasagi laughed a low laugh. He put leaves in his pipe and lit it with what looked like a lighter. It took skill to do that with one arm. “Whatever the case, if you want to get stronger, I don’t mind training you, but—”

“Please do.” Ranta was surprised to find he said those words easily, and without hesitation.

Takasagi seemed a little surprised, too, but after a short silence, he said, “Well, fine then.”

It was a response that maybe made sense, or maybe didn’t.