Nozomanu Fushi no Boukensha (LN) - Volume 13 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Strange Monster and a New Find

“Things have gotten a lot more lively...”

After purging the village of skeletons, I spent a night keeping watch to ensure no more of them could enter. In the meantime, Rivul and the village headman Jiris were going around to all the other villages and towns to inform the evacuees that the skeletons had been taken care of.

Day broke and, come noon, they made their return. To my surprise, they weren’t alone: the village’s original occupants had tagged along with them, teary-eyed and weeping. It wasn’t everyone from the village, of course—just the young, able men and their wives—but they planned for the children and elderly to trickle back in as the village recovered.

Jiris commented that some evacuees likely wouldn’t return, choosing instead to settle in the towns or villages they’d escaped to. The majority would come back, though, which spoke to how much they loved their home.

Currently, I was helping them bring the village back to life. That being said, it was just simple work for the time being: repairing the fencing around the area, gathering the debris from damaged buildings, and sorting out what was still usable, that sort of thing. It looked like we’d be able to get enough done to at least ensure everyone who returned today would have a roof over their heads tonight.

“It’s all thanks to you, Rentt,” Rivul said, carrying a plank into the village’s center plaza. It had probably been part of some house’s wall.

“Just doing my job,” I replied. “Besides, the real recovery effort is just beginning. It won’t be easy...but seeing how many people came back today, I guess you’ll be fine.”

Around twenty or so people had returned so far. That was a quarter of the village’s original population of around eighty, and more would come tomorrow. Naturally, it wasn’t realistic to expect everyone would return after only a day or two—it was surprising enough that a full fourth of the population was already back. If someone told me the village would make a full recovery, I’d believe them.

“Luckily, most of the houses weren’t majorly damaged, and the fields were left unharmed too,” Rivul said. “We’ll do just fine. Did we escape more serious destruction because it was only skeletons?”

“That’d be my guess,” I agreed. “If it had been mainly wolf-species monsters, your fields would have gotten torn up, and goblins or slimes would’ve done a number on the houses.”

The monsters I’d listed were the most common types that assailed human villages. Wolf-species monsters came in many shapes and sizes, but generally they were all motivated by finding food, and to accomplish that goal they would uproot fields or even devour the villagers themselves. Goblin-species monsters acted similarly, raiding food stores and dismantling houses to find materials for their own dwellings. If they managed a complete takeover, they’d usually strip the village down to its bones.

Slime-species monsters didn’t raid in the same way, but since they could dissolve and eat anything and everything, they could consume a whole village—fields, houses, and all—and reduce it to a barren wasteland.

All of these monsters could be described as humanity’s natural enemies. That was why there was a long history of people learning how to fight them.

One might think that dragons or chimeras were the more dangerous types of monster, but large creatures like those rarely left their own domains. Looking back through the ages, it was actually the small fry such as goblins that were always at odds with humanity, fighting over places to live.

That was how humanity had managed to survive to the present day. If dragons and chimeras had been attacking us every day, we would’ve gone extinct a long time ago.

Of course, in the modern age, humanity had ways to fight back. That hadn’t been true of our ancestors, though. The only reason our species had managed to claw its way to survival despite its weak physical abilities was that we possessed slightly more intelligence than the other animals of the world.

Humans really were fundamentally weak creatures, huh...

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Rivul said. “I’ve heard what other monsters can do to a village. Sounds like we were pretty lucky, then.”

“In that sense, I guess you were...” I replied. “Though, from a timing perspective, you could call yourself unlucky too, given all the trouble you went through trying to hire an adventurer in Maalt.”

“Not at all! You ended up accepting, didn’t you? I count that as good luck, especially now that you’re going out of your way to help when you don’t need to.”

Rivul was talking about how I was assisting with repairing the village. He wasn’t wrong—none of that had been included in the details of the commission, so I would be perfectly within my rights to kick back and laze around the headman’s house right now. I couldn’t imagine myself actually doing that, though.

“No, I consider this part of the job too,” I said.

“Huh?”

“Sure, I cleared out all the skeletons, but I’m fairly certain this isn’t over. There’s a good chance more will come knocking. We need to shore up the village’s defenses in preparation.”

“I...guess you’re right. There were more skeletons when we arrived compared to when I left to submit the commission. They’ve gotta be coming in from the outside.”

“There you have it. That means there’s a source somewhere out there, and it needs to be shut down. But there’s only one of me, and I couldn’t bear it if the village were overrun again while I was out there looking, so I want to do what I can to prevent that.”

“You’d really do all that for us...?”

“Of course. Why else do you think I’m killing these monsters? It’s so you all can live here. There’s no point in doing all that work if they’re just going to come back tomorrow...so let’s do our best to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Yes, sir!”

◆◇◆◇◆

“I’ve got all sorts of things—just tell me what you want,” I said. “Ah, though...you’ll have to pay, of course.”

Spread out in the village plaza was an arrangement of various foods and sundries. They were the contents of my magic bag, and all told, it amounted to several wagonloads’ worth of goods.

There were also a number of odds and ends that I always kept in the bag, the kind of items that always made Lorraine say, “Why do you even keep this thing in there...? Not that I’m not going to use it, mind you. It’s just the thing for this situation.”

I’d forgotten why I originally put some of this stuff into the bag, but being an adventurer meant that unexpected things could come in handy at unexpected times. Others might’ve called me a hoarder, but I didn’t see any problem with my little habit.

It was important to keep everything organized, naturally, but as it happens, I was quite the orderly person when it came to this. After all, I’d been in charge of cleaning Lorraine’s place for a long time. While she’d since matured into an individual capable of doing that herself, it just took one new research project that grabbed her attention a little too much for the mess to start piling up.

All of that actually made me wonder if the amount of concentration or self-control a person could use in one day was fixed, just like mana or spirit.

Whatever the case, I wasn’t laying out the contents of my magic bag in the village plaza for no good reason. Given that the village had been damaged in a hundred and one different ways, I thought that some of my collection might be able to contribute to the repair effort.

Of course, I had no intention of handing it all out for free. I needed to make a living too...or, that’s what I would say if a lot of what I’d laid out wasn’t random bric-a-brac that I never used. Mostly, I just knew the villagers would refuse to take any of it if I didn’t ask for any compensation. Strange purchases made on the cheap could seem suspicious and not worth the trouble. With items like these, it was easier to just make a straightforward transaction.

That was the thing about random junk, I guess. It was almost worthless and I would be happy to give it away for free, but nobody actually wanted things like that. The only reason it wasn’t completely worthless was because one man’s junk was sometimes another man’s treasure. For any given item, you could always find an eccentric out there who wanted it...like me, for example.

“I didn’t know adventurers could fit so much in their magic bags...” Rivul was half taken aback, half amazed as he hunted through my odds and ends. “You’ve got even more quantity and variety than traveling merchants.”

He was focused on the tableware: plates, cups, forks, and the like. Actually, most of the villagers were focused on that too, which made sense—those were the kinds of items the skeletons had broken the most of. As one might expect, the villagers hadn’t possessed any actual glassware, but they’d had a lot of ceramics, and all of that had been the first thing to go once the monsters started rampaging about.

That said, the damage wasn’t all-encompassing—the majority of their tableware was wooden, after all—but whether you were in a big town or a little village like this one, people always wanted fancier pieces that they could break out for celebrations. On such occasions, it was common to use colored ceramics.

Ironically, it was actually popular among the aristocracy and big merchant families in cities to use finely carved wooden tableware, and they treasured such pieces. The fact that supply and demand differed everywhere was the backbone of the traveling merchant’s trade.

“Just between you and me, my magic bag’s bigger than the ones you usually see,” I explained. “Normal ones can only hold as much as three or four leather rucksacks, and those still sell for hundreds of gold.”

That was exactly the sort of magic bag I’d used in my human days. My current one would probably be priced in platinum, not gold... If it hadn’t been for Nive, I could’ve gone my entire life without being able to purchase one like it.

If you’d asked me back then, I would’ve wondered if I’d actually get my money’s worth out of it. These days, though, I could definitively say the answer was “yes.” Platinum coins were above the pay grade of a Bronze classer like me, but I had no regrets about my purchase. I saw this bag as an investment in my future. Besides, I saw no point in banking platinum coins anyway. My sights were set on becoming a Mithril-class adventurer, not getting rich. I’d spend every coin I had to accomplish that goal if that’s what it took.

“Hundreds of gold?!” Rivul exclaimed. “I’d heard that adventurers earned a lot, but to think you were so wealthy...”

“Hey, don’t get the wrong idea. It took me years to save up,” I said. “It’s true that adventurers make more than your average laborer, though. The thing is, we’re constantly risking our lives to do so.”

Rivul gulped. What I’d said was the blunt truth—adventurers were the kind of people who thought the risk was worthwhile.

That wasn’t a normal way of thinking, though. To the average person, all the coin in the world wasn’t worth one’s life. In their minds, those who chose to be adventurers all had a screw or two loose.

In fact, if you asked me how loose mine were, I’d take a while to get back to you with an answer. Unlike most adventurers, who often bragged in taverns about their exploits and how many times they’d brushed up against death, I actually had died once—more, depending on how you counted it. I wouldn’t have ended up like this if my screws weren’t at least a little out of alignment.

“I can’t tell you how much I admire adventurers,” Rivul said. “Especially ones like you, Rentt. You could be out there making that kind of coin, but you still chose to accept my commission.”

“The work comes and goes, though. It’s not as if I’m never troubled for coin.”

“I suppose not. Oh! But isn’t this...?”

Rivul had been browsing as we talked, and it looked like he’d found something that caught his interest. He wasn’t looking through the tableware, but the items I’d taken from monsters.

As for the specific item that had caught his eye, it was a spear that had been wielded by one of the skeleton soldiers.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Is something the matter?” I asked, watching Rivul pick up the spear.

It wasn’t unusual to see him pick up a weapon in and of itself. The headman had called him a skilled hunter, so it only followed that he would have more of an interest in weapons than most.

The strange part was why he’d immediately gone for the spear. The lineup only consisted of a number of knives—some cheap, mass-produced ones and others meant for cooking—and the spoils from slaying the skeletons the previous day, including their bows. The bows weren’t bad either, quality-wise, and would probably sell for a decent amount. Given his own archery skills, Rivul would have been able to see that, so I would’ve guessed that his attention would be drawn there first. However, he’d picked up the spear, piquing my interest.

After scrutinizing the weapon, Rivul satisfied my curiosity. “I’ve...seen this spear before. No, saying that doesn’t do it justice. I know this spear. It...it was my father’s.”

Ah. That would explain it.

There were a number of different ways in which skeletons came to be, but the most skin-crawling one was when they, for one reason or another, emerged from a deceased person’s remains.

To be fair, it wasn’t just skeletons: that was a possible origin for undead in general. Circumstances changed when you got to undead of a higher order, like vampires and such, but it was quite common for bottom-feeders like skeletons and zombies to originate from dead bodies. That was why religious organizations strictly managed graveyards, and why small villages like this one reduced the risk by holding seasonal festivals during which they entreated the spirits of the dead to move on.

Well, thanks to the Kingdom of Yaaran’s scepter, things were a little different here. The risk of undead rising was low to begin with, which in turn was why religious organizations had less influence.

In any case, since that was a possible origin for undead, it wasn’t unusual for some to wield the weapons they’d used in life. In short, a skeleton soldier wielding Rivul’s father’s weapon meant...

“That skeleton soldier was your...”

“It was probably my father, yes... I doubt he ever expected that he’d end up ravaging his own village after he died. I...can’t thank you enough for what you did, Rentt. Truly.”

I’d lost count of the number of times he’d thanked me at this point. “You really don’t need to keep thanking me,” I said. “That aside...can I ask when your father died?”

I wasn’t asking because I was insensitive. Well, maybe I was, a little, but definitely not to the extent that I felt the need to reopen other people’s old wounds. I had asked the question because it was necessary for me to know—it could lead to finding out more about the source of the skeletons.

“About three years ago,” Rivul said. “He spotted a goblin wandering the area and gathered the villagers to slay it before it could call its brethren over. A single goblin is well within a group of villagers’ capabilities to fight, you see. Not only that, but my father was a skilled hunter—far more so than myself. He knew how to use a sword and spear too, on account of being a city soldier in his younger days. It was he who taught me how to use a bow.”

So Rivul’s father had been a city guard during his teens and twenties, then married and returned to his hometown to support his parents. It was a common story, even among adventurers. In fact, that was pretty much how it went for the majority of them who’d moved to the city from the countryside, seeking fame and fortune.

Only a small fraction could succeed, after all. The rest learned their limits and place in the world, and headed back to where they could find a modest sort of happiness for themselves.

Rivul’s father must’ve had a similar story. But returning to your hometown, teaching your son the skills you’d mastered, and watching him grow up into a fine man? That was by no means a bad life. When someone has a legacy, they can feel at ease. That was the kind of thing happiness came from.

“It sounds like your father was a great man.”

“Rentt... Yes. As far as I’m concerned, he was the best dad anyone could ask for. In the end, though, there were some things even he couldn’t do. Especially when it came to monsters...”

“By that, do you mean...”

“Yes. It was that goblin that killed him. Except it wasn’t just one—there were more than ten of them. According to the other villagers who barely escaped with their lives, he took up the rear guard by himself to ensure everyone got away. Thanks to him, they all made it back, albeit heavily injured. I can’t count the number of times they apologized to me. They still do, sometimes.”

It was no wonder—put bluntly, it wouldn’t be incorrect to say that they had left Rivul’s father to die. The guilt must have weighed on them quite heavily. That might’ve been the better outcome, though; given the circumstances, there was every possibility they could have criticized Rivul’s father instead and justified their own actions to themselves.

The reason that hadn’t happened probably came down to who Rivul and his father were as people, as well as the villagers’ inherent natures. After all, when I had fought the skeletons, they had sworn to back me up, going so far as to say they’d even use themselves as shields for my sake.

Perhaps the villagers who had been rescued by Rivul’s father were the very same ones who’d been keeping watch over the village from behind the hill.

“That’s all in the past, though,” Rivul said. “I don’t hold a grudge against them at all. If I’d been in their place, I doubt I could have done anything different. And as sad as I am about his passing, I’m also happy that my dad was a great man until the end.”

“You’re a fine man yourself. I think I’d have held a grudge, had it been me.”

“You wouldn’t, Rentt. I can tell.”

“You think too highly of me... Back on topic, though, the fact that your father’s weapon is here means that he became a skeleton soldier. And that means there’s a possibility that the skeletons are coming from the place where your father passed away. In regard to his burial...”

“We weren’t able to give him one. The goblins were handled by an adventurer we hired, but since it was a good distance away from the village, the risk of monsters was too high to make the trip. I couldn’t persuade the adventurer to help either...”

“Really? Maalt’s adventurers wouldn’t have minded helping out for something like that.”

“The adventurer we asked was just a wanderer. I don’t mean to speak ill of them, but they weren’t particularly concerned with anything other than slaying the monsters...”

◆◇◆◇◆

“Well...I can’t confidently say they did a bad job,” I said. “I don’t know what their circumstances were, after all.”

“As far as we were concerned, we were just grateful that they’d slain the goblins,” Rivul agreed. “Still, when I think about how that might have been the origin of the skeleton attack... We should have asked them to do more.”

Rivul was talking about his father’s burial. If they’d buried him properly back then, the recent skeleton attack might not have happened.

In many cases, once a single skeleton appeared, the number would gradually increase—either others gravitated toward the location from elsewhere, or old bones buried in the ground would reanimate, drawn to their former comrades. If Rivul’s father had been the starting point, then a proper burial would have prevented all of this.

“Well, we don’t know if your father really was the reason. I wouldn’t worry about it so much.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yeah. Regrets come as part and parcel of life. When they show up at your door, the most efficient way to go about things is to quickly forget them and move on to whatever’s next. This goes double for us adventurers—we’ve got more regrets than you can count.”

Regrets like: if I had done this or that differently, would that villager, comrade, or friend still be alive? I doubted there were very many adventurers who hadn’t had that thought at least once. Many of us, however, also instinctively knew that if you allowed those emotions to overwhelm you, they’d drag you down into the underworld yourself one day.

So, to forget, we drank wine like water, told stupid stories about our friends who had journeyed so far away, let the painful memories slip from our minds, and from time to time stopped by their graves to pour them a drink of their own.

The wounds didn’t really heal, but in our day-to-day lives, we grew used to forgetting that they were there. That was the only way people knew how to move on.

“Returning to practical matters, Rivul, while we haven’t pinned down the exact reason for the skeleton attack, we have figured out something we need to do.”

“Um...you mean we have to go to the place where my father died, right? Because there’s a high chance it could be the source?”

“That’s right. The issue is, I don’t know where it is. I guess I could ask you to mark it on a map...but one wrong step in a forest like this will send me off track. I’d rather have a guide come with me, if possible.”

Though I hadn’t specified, it was obvious who I was talking about. My gaze met Rivul’s—it looked like he’d picked up on my implication.

“You mean me, don’t you? Okay. I’ll go. I haven’t been to the place myself...but I’ve heard about it more times than I can count.”

I did not doubt that Rivul had thought about going to search for his father’s remains and mementos himself in the past. However, he had likely decided against it after taking his own abilities into consideration. As someone who’d be going with him, knowing he had that sort of composure was reassuring.

During the fight with the skeletons, he too had been the only one of the villagers to maintain his calm while the others had been nervous and hasty. Perhaps seeing the monsters had reminded them of when they’d left Rivul’s father behind.

In the end, no matter how people’s scars faded, they were still there...

“That settles it, then. Don’t worry about your own safety—I’ll protect you at the cost of my own life.”

If nothing else, I could serve as a meat shield for him any number of times. I might have some trouble coming up with explanations for my resilience, but as long as the wounds weren’t excessive I’d probably be able to explain them away as being less serious than they looked.

If they were excessive...well, that was what I had divinity for. I could brute force the issue with my divine blessing. It likely wouldn’t hold up in the face of multiple observers, but if it was just Rivul, I could pull the wool over his eyes. At least, I was pretty sure I could...

Of course, the best outcome was neither of us running into trouble and both returning unharmed. Still, one had to be prepared for the worst.

“I’ll do my best to not take any unnecessary risks,” Rivul said.

That was a relief to hear. The other villagers being willing to risk their lives had actually done more harm than good. “Glad to be traveling with you,” I said. “Shall we set out tomorrow, first thing in the morning?”

“Okay, I’ll get everything I can ready. First things first—it’d be best if we told the headman about our plans before the end of the day, right?”

At the moment, I was primarily what stood between the village and any more skeletons that showed up to attack. I couldn’t up and leave without any warning; I’d have to give a proper explanation.

“Yeah. After I wrap up here, let’s go to the headman.”

“Okay.”

As for what I was wrapping up, it was Rentt’s Impromptu Emporium. There were still people browsing, so it’d be remiss of me to suddenly declare that I was closing for business. We weren’t departing until tomorrow, so we could leave persuading the headman until after I’d originally planned to be done hawking my odds and ends.

“By the way, Rivul, don’t you want this bow?”

I held out the archer skeleton’s weapon to Rivul. Its make was pretty decent—enough that it was several notches above the ones Rivul and the villagers had used during the battle. Since he was an archer too, I figured he’d be interested in it.

“I’m interested, of course, but...the spear’s more important to me,” Rivul said. “I don’t have enough to buy both, so...”

He wanted his father’s spear, huh? I’d been considering it his from the moment he’d explained its origins, but it appeared that he thought of it as something he’d have to buy from me.

Strictly speaking, he was correct. The spoils from slain monsters belonged to the adventurers who slew them, even if they had originally belonged to other monsters or people, adventurers or otherwise. Technically, the spear did belong to me.

However, that was just a general principle, not a hard rule. There was room for bargaining and negotiation—there pretty much always was when it came to the rules of adventuring. As long as everyone agreed to it, nobody really minded if the rules were bent—the exception, of course, being attempted murder and the like. Besides, that was the purview of a country’s laws rather than adventuring rules.

All of which was to say that as far as I was concerned, the spear already belonged to Rivul, and I wouldn’t be taking any payment for it.

“While this might have been something I won from a monster, it’s a memento of your father. I can’t take your money for that.”

“But...”

“Just take it. That’ll leave you with enough to buy the bow, right? I’ll even give you a discount.”

“Rentt... But then you won’t earn—”

“I’m not that bothered about a small difference in coin here and there. I’m not even a merchant in the first place. We’ll be risking our lives together tomorrow, so it’s in my best interest that you’re as well equipped as you can be. Come on, take them.”

I pushed both the spear and bow into Rivul’s arms. He looked troubled for a few moments, but it appeared that my last reason had been enough to persuade him.

He nodded and bowed his head. “I...understand. Then I gratefully accept.”

◆◇◆◇◆

Rivul and I left the village first thing in the morning. Our objective, naturally, was to discover the source of the skeletons that had attacked the village.

After consulting the headman, Jiris, we’d decided that the village’s defenses would hold for the time being—the fences had been partially rebuilt, and the young men would be making rounds of the perimeter. It couldn’t put up much resistance against anything more than a few skeletons, but at least with the patrols, the villagers would have early warning, allowing them to run.

Skeletons were monsters that could fight in the dark, but that didn’t mean their range of vision was particularly good. If the young men acted as the rear guard and let the women and children escape first, withdrawing from the village wouldn’t be impossible.

Jiris had wanted me to stay in the village at all times, but he also understood that would expose them to danger after I returned to Maalt. In the end, he agreed to the plan, recognizing that discovering the source of the skeletons and dealing with it would be safer in the long term. A little risk in the meantime was necessary to achieve that end.

“This way, Rentt.”

I advanced deeper into the forest with Rivul. You could really tell he was the village’s best hunter—he walked like he was right at home, taking silent footsteps and concealing his presence, all the while maintaining his bearings. I was confident in my own abilities when it came to traversing forests, but if this had been an ordinary hunting trip, I doubt I could have matched him.

As if to prove my suspicions, the few times we spotted deer or wild boars, none of them seemed to sense he was even there. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve taken them down in one shot.

I hunted on occasion too, when I was staying outdoors and needed to secure food, but I wasn’t as skillful as he was. At the end of the day, I was an adventurer, and my trade was fighting monsters.

After a while of walking, we finally reached our destination.

“That should be it, Rentt.”

Rivul was hiding in the shadows of the undergrowth. I followed his line of sight and saw a cave, its entrance gaping like an open mouth. It was dark enough that I couldn’t see farther in, so it was hard to tell how deep it went.

Makes sense, I thought.

Rivul had told me about times when goblins had appeared near the village in the past. Those monsters commonly used these kinds of natural caves as dens. Unlike skeletons, they increased their numbers via ordinary breeding, meaning they needed places like this. Although goblins multiplied at a terrifying rate and matured to adulthood in a single month, their offspring were still defenseless and tiny, making them easy prey for other monsters—or even regular animals. That made defensible dens a necessity.

The goblin tribes that traded with humans built small settlements for this purpose, albeit crudely, and the ones who couldn’t mainly used natural caves like this one. If you asked me what the difference was between the goblins that built settlements and the ones that lived in natural caves and attacked humans, I wouldn’t be able to give you a good answer. I supposed even goblins had their individual differences. It was like how some people were townsfolk and others bandits. That was why it was impossible to make the sweeping generalization that all goblins were evil.

There were a number of monster species like that, and they were often treated like demihumans as a result...but the distinction was hazy at best. Their relationship with humans depended on what part of the world you were in. Some places followed a doctrine of zero tolerance for monsters, while others were happy to engage in mutually beneficial trade.

Yaaran’s policy was relatively loose, as these things went, and leaned more toward allowing trade—but perhaps it was more accurate to say the Kingdom was just not the strictest place in a lot of ways. The people’s view of monsters wasn’t particularly prejudiced either.

If attacked, however, they’d retaliate without mercy. That was only to be expected.

“Your father’s in there?” I asked.

“From what the others told me back then, that’s where they left him,” Rivul confirmed. “Though...maybe that wasn’t the nicest way to put it. It was how he was able to buy everyone time to get away, they think.”

“That’s probably right. It doesn’t look like there’s much room in there,” I agreed. “They wouldn’t have been able to surround him. If they’d managed to cut him off though, that would’ve been it. An ambush waiting outside for him would’ve led to a pincer attack.”

Goblins were almost as intelligent as humans. They were dumb in their own ways, but when it came to hunting, they had a sort of cunning, or perhaps natural instinct, that was more than a match for a person’s. Things like pincer attacks and traps were a common part of their repertoire...though, their lack of technical finesse meant the efforts were often crude in nature or construction. That didn’t go for their whole species, however. The goblins who could build settlements were capable of pretty detailed craftsmanship. That was likely why they were said to be a monster well worth researching.

Whatever the case, it didn’t seem like I’d be facing any goblins this time around, so I didn’t have to worry about their tricks. There was a chance that their traps still remained from when they’d settled here, but even if that were the case, I doubted they’d be durable enough to have remained active after several years. It wasn’t as though your common goblin could build anything on par with a magical item, after all.

“Skeletons won’t suddenly come out of nowhere and surround us if we go in, will they?” Rivul asked uneasily.

“There don’t seem to be any skeletons nearby,” I replied. “Or any other monsters, for that matter, so there’s no need to jump at shadows. Of course, that doesn’t mean we can let our guard down.”

Though I couldn’t sense any monsters around us now, there was always the chance that they’d come crawling out of the woodwork later. It was dangerous to enter caves without keeping a close eye on your back. In any other circumstance, I would’ve preferred to leave several other adventuring companions outside to keep watch, but it was just Rivul and me here.

I couldn’t leave Rivul outside alone, and neither could I send him in by himself. I wasn’t some heartless demon—just your everyday pseudo-vampire.

That being the case, I was left with only one option.

“We won’t get much out of more surveillance,” I said. “We’re going in.”

“Yes, sir!”

We set off into the cave.

◆◇◆◇◆

“It really is as dark as it looked in here,” I noted. “Let’s make some light.”

I didn’t have a problem with it being dark, but the same wasn’t true of Rivul. It’d be dangerous for him to keep going blind. I retrieved an enchanted torch from my magic bag and set a small magic crystal into it, creating a soft light that illuminated our surroundings for several meters.

“Oh, we can see a lot better now,” Rivul said.

“Uh-huh...”

Actually, not much had changed for me. Light or no light, I could see inside the cave as if it were the middle of the day. I couldn’t tell Rivul that though, so I just nodded along and moved on to establishing what we’d be doing with the magic torch.

“I’ll hold on to this for now,” I said. “If any monsters come at us from the front, they’ll be drawn to me. Once I start fighting, though, I’ll have to pass it to you. Is that okay?”

“Y-Yes, of course.” Rivul sounded a little frightened to hear that holding the torch would draw the monsters’ attention.

“No need to be scared. I’ll be sure to keep any monsters from getting close to you. It’ll actually be easier for me to fight if the torch is drawing them to us—it’ll be just like the fight in the village. You were the only one who kept his cool back then, so you’ll be fine now too, right?”

I couldn’t say for sure exactly how “fine” he would be, but there was no point pressuring him about it. Still, it looked like remembering the village battle had steeled his nerves. His trembling stopped, and he nodded confidently.

“Right. I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Oh, and don’t feel the need to do anything reckless. If it looks like they’ll get me, just run. Don’t bother trying to help.”

I was worried Rivul would get worked up and try to save me, even if it was pointless. He kept his composure better than the other villagers, but his father’s death no doubt lingered in the back of his mind. When push came to shove, I could see him standing his ground and refusing to abandon a comrade.

Of course, I had no intention of letting things get that bad. If it looked like I was about to bite it, I’d pick Rivul up under my arm and make a mad dash for the exit. Failing a commission was far preferable to death.

If there was a foe I couldn’t beat here, I’d just have to call for backup from Maalt. Lorraine would come, even if no one else would, and with her around things would work out. My instruction to Rivul about recklessness applied to me too.

I couldn’t tell if that had gotten through to Rivul, but he nodded in response. “Okay,” he said. “I understand.”

Figuring that was good enough for the time being, I led the way deeper into the cave...

◆◇◆◇◆

“Ah, here we go. Looks like I was right about this place.”

The sound of rattling bones reached us from up ahead.

I handed the magic torch to Rivul and readied my sword. Before long, two skeletons shambled into view. They carried no weapons and I couldn’t sense any mana from them; they were as run-of-the-mill as skeletons got.

In other words, they weren’t a problem.

After checking to make sure there wasn’t an ambush waiting in the wings, I swiftly advanced and decapitated the skeletons before crushing their skulls to retrieve the magic crystals from within them. Their bodies fell apart in short order, scattering bones across the ground.

Skillful work, if I do say so myself.

“Incredible...” Rivul murmured.

That made me a little bit happy—not that I’d get puffed up about it and lower my guard, of course. I was planning on ascending to Silver-class, for one. If I couldn’t take down two skeletons in a few seconds, I might as well give up before the exam.

As things stood, I was only achieving the bare minimum. I couldn’t let myself forget that.

Adventurers who forgot their humble origins grew arrogant or let their guard down, and then they’d end up losing everything in a single moment. They would only realize their mistake when it was too late, and they found themselves on the riverboat to the realm of the dead.

Stuffing the magic crystals into my bag, I took the torch back from Rivul.

“It was no big deal,” I said. “Let’s keep going.”

“Ah, right!”

Perhaps to distract himself from his fear, Rivul spoke up as we walked. “So...it’s pretty much confirmed now that the skeletons were coming from here, right?”

“Hmm... It’s looking very likely, but I can’t say for certain. There’s a chance they’re just searching this place and their actual origin is somewhere else.”

“Why would skeletons be investigating a place like this?”

“There used to be goblins here, right? If another group of goblins settled in this cave, well, the skeletons could be here to attack them when that happened. It’s not as if monsters always get along. Even in dungeons, you can see them fight and kill their fellow monsters... In fact, it might be inaccurate to call them ‘fellows’ in the first place.”

That was how monsters went through Existential Evolution, developing into monsters of a higher order. The number of individuals who’d actually witnessed such a scene wasn’t all that large, but it wasn’t zero either. As for why it happened, well...nobody knew.

Was it a monster’s natural instinct? A fundamental law of the world? Or something else entirely?

It was the sort of question that seemed impossible to answer, but humanity was all about solving those kinds of riddles. Perhaps we would, one day.

Maybe it would even be Lorraine who did it. With her intelligence and a rare specimen like me around, there was every chance she could get closer to the heart of the matter, even if she didn’t make it all the way there.

The part I usually tried not to think about was that if she didn’t, I might never be able to return to being human. Whenever that thought managed to surface, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Was it even possible for me to become human again? Was I just going to be a monster forever? For the sake of argument, I didn’t think I’d mind too much if I was. What did scare me, however, was the prospect that my mind would become more monstrous too, one day turning me into a creature that viewed human beings as something to resent.

As long as that didn’t happen, I could make my peace with staying a monster. Not knowing was the scary part.

Still, beings like Isaac and Laura were proof that even if I did become monstrous, it probably wouldn’t be anytime soon. All I could do for now was make a steady effort to improve, one step at a time.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Hmm?!”

Suddenly, something came flying toward us. It wasn’t an arrow or a stone—I could sense from the presence of mana that it was a spell of some kind.

Channeling mana into my sword, I cut the projectile down just before it reached us, extinguishing it. Since magic spells imposed an effect on the world after they were cast, you could make contact with them using physical attacks. However, because their existence was sustained by mana, simply cutting or hitting them wouldn’t do a thing to actually disperse that mana.

That was why, if you wanted to forcibly extinguish an opponent’s spell after they’d cast it, you needed to meet it with a weapon that was also channeling mana.

Naturally, there were people who could snuff out a spell without relying on such crude methods. One example was Fuana the Spellwise, a member of Jean Seebeck’s organization in the royal capital. She was able to instantly spot the weakest point in a spell’s construction and destroy it.

In essence, spells had a core, and if you struck that core in the right way, you could extinguish it. Even without Fuana’s unique talent, there were people who understood the theory and practiced the technique.

Of course, it was no easy feat—even Fuana couldn’t do it perfectly. Pinpointing the core of a spell flying at you at high speeds and striking it required an expert’s touch, not to mention that failure could mean suffering a fatal wound. It was truly a risky move, so as options went, it was one to be avoided if possible.

If I had been alone I might have tried it, but I had Rivul with me. Therefore, I’d gone with the surer method.

“Rentt! Are you okay?!” Rivul yelled, after seeing me extinguish the fireball—a Fotiá Volídas—that had been launched at us.

I nodded. “I’m fine. You should get back—this’ll be dangerous. We’ve got a mage on our hands.”

It would’ve been nice if all we’d had to deal with were run-of-the-mill skeletons, but it looked like matters wouldn’t be proceeding so smoothly. I could sense a strong mana signature from the presence that was approaching. It was no match for Lorraine’s, of course—at a rough estimate, it had a bit more mana than a skeleton soldier.

Skeleton-type monsters with more mana than a skeleton soldier... There were only a few creatures that fit that description.

When it stepped into view, possibly to check whether its spell had landed, my suspicion was proved correct. Standing before us was indeed a skeleton-type monster. Unlike the usual specimens of its kind, though, it was clad in a shabby—actually, make that ragged—cloak, and it held a wooden wand in its hand. Peeking out from beneath the hood of the cloak were dull lights in its eye sockets, glimmering with intelligence.

It was a monster known as a lesser skeleton mage—the weakest kind of skeleton monster that could still use magic. That didn’t mean I could underestimate it, however.

Mages had high offensive ability, and were capable of killing a person with a single spell like it was nothing. You only needed to look at Lorraine to see that. I had personally known several adventurers who had taken such monsters lightly because they were just skeletons, and had lost their lives as a result.

Adventurers overall tended to be cautious about skeletons, but you got arrogant people wherever you went. Incidentally, the reason they were usually so careful with them was that being killed by a skeleton often led to your corpse joining their ranks not long after—and unlike an ordinary person, adventurers usually had large reserves of mana or spirit, meaning they turned into skeletons even faster.

Joining your killers and attacking the village or town you were initially supposed to protect was a fate anybody would want to avoid, hence why nobody wanted to be done in by a skeleton.

There was also what had happened to me, but of course that had been an exception among exceptions. In the first place, it hadn’t even been a skeleton that killed me, and I’d become one anyway. What a scam.

Still, I was lucky that I’d gotten away with my life...but maybe I was unlucky from a broader perspective. It was hard to say.

At the very least, I was glad I hadn’t become a monster that went around attacking human settlements. Now all I had to do was go back to being human...which really was a lot easier said than done.

I held my sword at the ready as I faced the lesser skeleton mage. It wasn’t alone: a skeleton soldier accompanied it, standing in front as the vanguard. Looks like they’d thought this out.

I’d have to get past the soldier to get to the mage, but I couldn’t let the latter cast spells at Rivul in the meantime. I’d have to draw its attention before that happened.

Pulling a dagger from my magic bag, I threw it at the mage. It flew with the force of my strength as a monster, reinforced by the physical enhancements I’d applied to myself with spirit, audibly whistling through the air.

For a moment I thought that one strike would be enough. It wasn’t that easy, unfortunately: the skeleton soldier smacked the dagger down before it could reach the mage.

The mage began to chant a spell, pointing its wand toward me—though “chant” was probably the wrong word. My time as one had made me very aware of the fact that skeletons didn’t have vocal cords.

Still, magic spells needed a chant of some kind, so the skeleton was using the time to silently recite something at me. According to Lorraine, spell chants didn’t need to be vocal. As long as you could express the mana in the right way, just thought would suffice. Humans just placed a lot of value on the spoken word, leading to an unconscious bias that made nonverbal chants difficult for them.

This was proved by how some individuals were capable of chantless magic—which wasn’t wholly chantless, strictly speaking. The chants had been shortened to their utmost limit.

The concept of running through an entire chant in your mind in the span of an instant was difficult for me to wrap my head around, but the point was: the lesser skeleton mage could actually chant spells. And perhaps because its chants happened at the speed of thought, it was only a few seconds after the skeleton soldier parried my dagger that the next spell was flying toward me.

◆◇◆◇◆

The lesser skeleton mage’s Vráchos Volídas—an earthen projectile—flew straight at my face. Was it getting revenge for me throwing my dagger at its head? Since the cast time had been relatively short, it lacked potency, but it still had enough power to blow a person’s face off if it hit.

In my case, I’d be just fine with a torn-off face, but I couldn’t show a gruesome scene like that to Rivul. Bending at the waist as far as I could go, I dodged the flying chunk of earth. From the angle my back was bent, some would probably be suspicious of how flexible my body was, but not so much that they’d accuse me of being inhuman. I was in the clear!

They probably would call me “creepy,” though...

I straightened up and advanced toward the lesser skeleton mage. Dodging the soldier’s sword slash from the side, I brought my blade down on the mage’s head.

A thrust would have been the fastest move to end the fight, but because of the mage’s cloak, I couldn’t tell where the magic crystal that served as its core was located. It was most commonly in a skeleton’s head, but that was by no means a guarantee, especially when it came to higher order specimens like skeleton soldiers or lesser mages. That was doubly true if their armor or cloaks hid the magic crystal, which was otherwise easy to spot in their bodies. It made them more difficult to slay—there was a big difference between having your weak point in plain sight versus having it completely hidden.

Still, a skeleton was a skeleton. If you smashed it apart, it wouldn’t be able to move or act—which was why I’d aimed for the head.

Fortunately, the lesser skeleton mage was unable to dodge my blow, and my sword struck its target. I felt its skull give way with a crack as I followed through with my swing, and the majority of the skeleton’s body collapsed to the ground.

A small fireball still managed to fly from its wand, but I simply sidestepped the spell and crushed the implement, along with the limb that held it. That would do for the mage.

Its bones were still twitching slightly, suggesting that its magic crystal was somewhere other than its head, but it wouldn’t be able to do anything in its current state. Maybe it would pull itself together in a day or two, but I wasn’t going to give it that long. After I slew the skeleton soldier, I was going to extract its magic crystal and bury the remains.

Speaking of the skeleton soldier, it was coming straight for me. Seeing me take down the mage hadn’t...angered it, exactly, but it was giving off a slightly more menacing aura than before. It had kept its distance before, preferring to fight defensively, but it looked like it was done with that—probably because it had been protecting the mage before, and now there was no need.

Although the mage was still alive—uh, for a given definition of alive, anyway—it had zero ability to contribute anything further to the fight. The skeleton soldier must have recognized that too.

Its strikes were swift. I parried them one after the other, then aimed for its head. Unlike the mage, the soldier’s body was on full display. I couldn’t see a magic crystal tucked within the bones anywhere, so it had to be inside the skull.

Evidently, however, it had seen through my intentions; it deflected my thrust. The combat skills of skeleton soldiers varied wildly, but it looked like I’d run into one that was a fair hand with a sword.

I focused even more mana than I was already channeling into my body and thrust forward again, feinting for its head before moving to strike at its torso. It seemed like my ruse had worked, because the skeleton soldier responded far too slowly.

My strike only managed to smash a few ribs, so I swept my blade to the side. It hooked the skeleton’s spine, snapping it with a crack, and having lost its support, the upper half of its body crashed to the ground. The lower half lost its cohesion when it was separated, so it followed shortly afterward, crumbling to pieces.

Just because it had been reduced to an upper half didn’t mean the skeleton had lost the will to fight, though. It kept a grip on its sword and swung it at me.

Skeleton soldiers didn’t have emotions. They couldn’t feel despair. As long as their bodies could move, they would continually attack humans with a relentlessness that only the undead possessed. Watching that phenomena occur before my very eyes evoked a kind of deep pathos within me—if I had taken one wrong step, this was how I could have ended up.

Nevertheless, that didn’t mean I could just leave it be. Briskly, I stepped up to the skeleton soldier and crushed its skull. Its magic crystal rolled out, consigning it to an eternity of never moving again.

After picking up the crystal, I moved over to the still-moving lesser skeleton mage, pulled its cloak away, and extracted its magic crystal too. It went still and fell apart, leaving only bleached bones rolling around on the ground.

“Rivul. It’s over.”

Rivul lowered his bow—he’d been holding it ready at a distance—and ran over. “Rentt! I’m sorry I couldn’t shoot. I thought it would only get in the way, so...”

He was talking about how he hadn’t fired a single arrow during the fight. That was completely fine, though.

“I was trying to hold their attention as we fought,” I explained. “You made the correct decision. Firing would’ve made things worse.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I worried I was doing the wrong thing. When I saw the lesser skeleton mage fire off that spell at point-blank range...”

He was talking about the Vráchos Volídas. From Rivul’s point of view, that must’ve looked like a close call.

“I figured it would cast something at me the moment I approached,” I said, “so I was ready to dodge whatever came. It wasn’t as dangerous as it might have looked.”

“Really?! You were confident you could dodge something like that right from the start?! Y-You’re a real daredevil, Rentt!”

His momentary hesitation was probably because he thought calling someone a “daredevil” didn’t exactly make for high praise. Still...

“Speaking as an adventurer, I’m happy to hear you say that. Preserving your life is important, of course, but not acting when you see the opportunity is a critical flaw. It just so happens that I spotted an opportunity at that moment, so to me, it wasn’t dangerous. I guess you could say that’s results-based thinking, but...”

“To tell you the truth, working with you made me think for a moment that I could make it as an adventurer too—but now I know how wrong I was. I don’t think I could do anything that terrifying.”

“Oh? You thought about becoming an adventurer?”

“It wasn’t anything I gave serious thought to. More like an old dream of mine that reared its head again...though it was probably too farfetched to even be called a dream.”

“It sounds like you haven’t given up on it entirely yet.”

“No, really. I couldn’t do it.”

We advanced deeper into the cave, talking. We were almost at the end of our journey. I didn’t know what awaited us, but a lesser skeleton mage had popped up when I’d only been expecting ordinary skeletons.

I had to be ready for anything.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Looks like this is as deep as the cavern goes.”

How long had it taken to get to this point? I wasn’t exactly sure, but it must have been a decent chunk of time. All the regular skeletons we’d encountered periodically along the way hadn’t helped us get here any faster either. Their presence, along with the lesser skeleton mage and skeleton soldier we’d run into earlier, was mounting evidence that this cave was the source of all these skeletons. And now that we had reached the deepest part, I was certain of it.

“Is...this where they’re all coming from?” Rivul asked. He was standing a short distance behind me, like I’d instructed him to. We didn’t know what was waiting for us in here, so it paid to be careful.

“There’s no doubt about it,” I said. “I don’t know if you can sense it, Rivul, but the air here’s laced with malice.”

The term “malice” had a number of meanings, but in this case, I was talking about stagnant mana. It was widely known that if mana continued to congeal and gather in a single location, it would become a source of monsters. We adventurers frequently encountered this phenomenon, so it was usually our first suspect in cases like this. It appeared that my suspicions had been proved correct.

“Malice...” Rivul said. “I knew this place felt unpleasant. I had just chalked it up to how claustrophobic it is, though.”

“You need to be able to sense mana to tell,” I explained. “You’ve got a little bit of mana yourself, though, so you might be able to pick up the knack with some training.”

“I didn’t know I had any at all... I guess there might’ve been more to that unpleasant feeling I had after all.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “Whatever the case, though, once I disperse the malice, you shouldn’t get any more skele—”

Suddenly, a potent amount of mana began to converge in the center of the area.

“What’s happening?!” It appeared that even Rivul had sensed the change.

“Get back, Rivul!” I ordered. “A monster’s forming!”

Although the way monsters formed from malice resembled the way they were constructed by dungeons, they were distinct phenomena. After all, in the dungeon, a monster could truly pop into existence out of nowhere. Both were the kind of thing that only adventurers tended to see, though, so in a sense Rivul was getting tickets to a rare show—even if it was hard to say whether seeing a monster form was really something to be happy about.

Rivul nodded at my command and retreated far back. He’d probably be fine. The cave was mostly a single path, so the chance of any skeletons coming up from behind us was low. I’d also made sure Rivul knew to keep an eye on our rear, so he’d at least be able to buy some time if one did show up.

That aside, I wondered what monster was going to form. It’d be somewhat anticlimactic if it was just a regular skeleton—but since it would be easy to defeat, that was one case where I’d be grateful about being let down. Still...

“Looks like we won’t be so lucky...” I muttered when I saw what the congealed mana had created.

The monster that crawled out of the gathered malice with a clatter was no ordinary skeleton—it was clad in armor, and it wielded a sword and shield.

Before us stood a skeleton knight.

◆◇◆◇◆

Clang!

My blade bounced off the skeleton knight’s shield. I backstepped, dodging the sword that flashed out, and put distance between myself and my opponent.

Damn. Not good enough, huh?

Monsters were often the most vulnerable just after forming, so I’d attempted a preemptive attack. It hadn’t worked, though. I wasn’t particularly surprised; a skeleton knight was far superior to mere skeleton soldiers.

Perhaps I should have evolved into one of those instead. I wondered what kind of strength I would have had, and how different it would be from the strength I possessed now...

Just kidding—my goal was to go back to being a human. Jumping from one bag of bones to a stronger bag of bones wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere. In the end, I’d still have been a skeleton who’d freak people out if I stepped into town.

But back to the matter at hand—how was I going to approach this? As monsters went, skeleton knights had a great balance of offense and defense, and the ones with shields were particularly troublesome.

Like skeleton soldiers, a skeleton knight’s arms and armor varied. Their bodies—uh, I mean bones—usually came with whatever they’d wielded in life. Of course, they could also change their equipment by picking up anything they found lying around.

Since this skeleton knight had formed with its arms and armor, my guess was that it had originally been the corpse of someone who fell in this very cave.

As for why it was this cave specifically, there was no surprise there: many monsters had made a home of this place in the past, like the goblins Rivul had mentioned. Perhaps something stronger than them had resided here before that, and someone who’d come to defeat it had found themselves at the end of their rope.

That someone had then become a skeleton, with the strength they had possessed in life making them a particularly powerful one who’d retained their skill with a shield. It went without saying that this monster would be a tough opponent.

With regular skeletons, the bones holding up their body were exposed and easy to aim for, but it was a different story when they were clad in armor and fending off attacks with a shield.

Still, that didn’t change what I had to do. Since this was the end of the cave, I considered using up my divinity to solve the problem through brute force...

But, no—it was better to keep it in reserve. The job wouldn’t be finished until we returned, and there was no telling what might take us by surprise on the way back to the village. We weren’t in trouble yet, so I’d just fight normally for the time being.

I wasn’t just being stingy, I swear.

◆◇◆◇◆

Right now, I had three cards in my hand: mana, spirit, and mana-spirit fusion. You know, the usual.

I had an ace up my sleeve in the form of divinity, which I’d break out with no hesitation if necessary, but I wanted to defeat the skeleton knight without using it. I decided to save it for now and attack with my other three cards.

As that generalized plan formed in my head, I started by channeling mana into my sword—and enhancing my body, naturally. Then, I dashed forward.

I closed the distance faster than on my previous attempt. The skeleton knight, perhaps because it was more wary now, shifted its foot back to brace itself and brought its shield to bear, hiding as much of its body as it could.

Yeah, it didn’t look like ordinary methods were going to cut it here.

Once again, my overhead swing was repelled by the skeleton knight. Then, it advanced, as though it had predicted that I was about to make some distance again.

Although my strike had been faster, it had still only been a rehash of my initial one. Though it was said that skeleton knights possessed no thoughts or emotions, that didn’t mean they couldn’t learn—even a creature like that could grow stronger with experience. Just now, it had remembered my strike and came up with a countermeasure on the spot.

Of course, it wasn’t the only one who could learn and grow.

I’d gotten a good idea of the skeleton knight’s ability from my initial strike, and I hadn’t been foolish enough to place all my bets on the second. So why had I just repeated the same attack again?

Because I wanted to limit the skeleton knight’s movements.

More often than not, the same attack would elicit the same response. That wasn’t only true of living things, but undead monsters like skeletons too. It was difficult to have perfect control over your own reflexes. Martial training allowed you to correct your own habits with endless drilling and eventually overcome those flaws, but skeletons weren’t known for their daily training regimens.

Of course, gaining skeletal bodies allowed them to make movements that would otherwise be impossible for an ordinary human, so it was no easy feat to predict what their reactions would look like, even if you knew they were coming. For example, skeletons could fully rotate their neck and arms and bend so far back at the waist it looked like they’d snapped in half—in other words, all the stuff I did when nobody was looking.

However, I had fought enough skeletons to last me a lifetime—not to mention how long I’d spent as one myself. I knew their capabilities and movements like the back of my hand.

That was how I knew that after the skeleton knight blocked my strike with its shield, it would step in closer to me and attempt a thrust...and it would move faster than it had before.

Even if it was nothing but bones, the laws of physics still applied. In order to increase its speed, I knew the skeleton knight would have to slam its foot against the ground as it advanced to build momentum. Otherwise, it would never be able to catch me, even though I was just backstepping.

A skeleton knight was clad in armor, because it was far stronger than ordinary skeletons. That meant it would have to put an unusual amount of strength into its step to propel it forward.

But there was a pitfall waiting for it.

I didn’t mean a figurative pitfall either—I meant a literal pitfall.

At the exact moment the skeleton knight brought its foot down, I used my mana-charged sword to excavate the ground it was about to step on.

I still wasn’t used to this technique, so I wasn’t sure how much mana to channel, but I was familiar enough with it to create a localized hole as deep as the creature’s shin. The floor of the cave was nothing but soil and sediment, which made it that much easier.

Sure enough, the skeleton knight stepped into the pitfall, losing its balance with a loud clatter. I had to give it credit though—it hadn’t lost its balance too badly. As soon as it sensed how deep the hole was, it shifted its position and the strength it was putting into the foot, then immediately began to use its other leg as leverage to push itself out.

However, that single moment was all the chance I needed.

Although I’d stepped back, this was what I had been aiming for the entire time, so I was immediately ready to shift into an attack. Using mana, I hardened the dirt beneath my feet to make for a better kickoff point and charged straight at the skeleton knight.

Though it looked like the situation had taken it by surprise, the skeleton still managed to bring its shield up to intercept my attack. I knew it didn’t have a good grip, though, so I channeled mana and spirit into my sword.

It was still difficult to charge my weapon using mana-spirit fusion, but maintaining it was far easier than it used to be. I made a sweeping slash with my blade aimed at the skeleton knight’s shield—and the moment it made contact, an explosion blasted the shield away, taking the skeletal arm with it.

My sense that its grip wasn’t secure had been correct, and now the skeleton knight had lost a layer of protection. It still had its armor though—and its sword.

Here, I had the choice of pressing the attack or retreating to a safe distance—but I had already made my decision. If I backed off, it would only come up with some kind of new countermeasure. This skeleton knight definitely had the learning capability to do that.

Since that was the case, I redoubled my attack, stepping in even closer. I realized that my choice had been the correct one when I saw a chink in the skeleton knight’s armor, large enough to thrust my sword into. Peeking through the gap was the magic crystal that formed the skeleton’s core. A simple thrust wouldn’t have been a fatal wound, but if I managed to hit that...

Without hesitation, I stabbed my sword into the opening, aiming straight for the magic crystal. I was still channeling mana and spirit, so the moment my blade made contact, there was an explosion from within the skeleton knight’s armor.

All that armor trapped the energy inside it, so all it could do was ricochet around. A little bit did manage to leak out, but it was through the neck hole—a convenient turn of events for me.

The energy of the explosion ripped the skeleton knight to pieces within its armor. Outside, its skull and spine cracked and shattered in several different places. Finally, its magic crystal shot out like a cannonball, slamming against the wall of the cave and rolling to a stop on the floor.

I knew I had won, but the feeling didn’t begin to set in until Rivul approached, cheering.

“Rentt! You did it!”

◆◇◆◇◆

“There won’t be any more skeletons attacking our village now, right?”

Rivul looked a little uneasy. It was no surprise that that was the top priority as far as his village was concerned. His unease likely stemmed from his lack of knowledge about monster ecology and how they spawned—he didn’t know enough to tell if this was going to be the end of the skeletons or not.

There was no helping that; even most adventurers only knew the broad strokes when it came to this stuff. The world still had a great deal to learn about monsters, and what knowledge we did have was less fact and more a web of theories that changed on a regular basis.

Even with geniuses like Lorraine conducting serious research—wait, could I really call it serious when she had snacks and tea to one side and regularly paused for naps? No, yeah, I guess it still counted—our knowledge of monsters was still plagued by mysteries.

Many adventurers scorned any form of learning and would never bother remembering the specifics of all that stuff. The fact that Maalt’s adventurers were relatively well educated was a result of the value Wolf placed on knowledge. Even the younger ones weren’t slacking in that regard, since I’d taught them a lot of things too. Still, when it came to adventurers, they were the exception rather than the rule.

All that aside, I knew enough about this situation that I could explain it to Rivul.

“There’s still malice built up here. It’s not safe yet.”

“Does that mean...?”

“If we leave it alone, more skeletons will form.”

“But that’s...!” The look on Rivul’s face was full of despair.

I had no intention of leaving the situation alone, though. “Don’t panic, Rivul,” I reassured him. “I said ‘yet,’ didn’t I? I’ll take care of it.”

“O-Oh... Right. I’m sorry for panicking. But how are you going to...?”

An ordinary person would have no idea how to disperse malice, but it wasn’t actually a terribly complex procedure. I dug around in my magic bag and pulled out a particular object.

“Is that...a flask? What’s in it?” Rivul studied the finely crafted bottle closely.

“Holy water,” I explained. “The religious organizations in Maalt give it to you in exchange for donations.”

It was honestly more accurate to just say that you purchased it, but leave it up to the churches to call that sort of thing a “donation.” Sure was a crooked racket they were running—not that they’d ever catch me calling it a “racket” out loud.

Still, I supposed the term “donation” wasn’t completely inaccurate. Certain individuals who’d made enough contributions or done some kind of service for the churches might have their donation amounts lowered, so it wasn’t a set thing. Of course, that also meant the churches could ask for ludicrous sums from the people they didn’t like.

In my case, you’d think my status as a monster would bar me from getting any holy water no matter how charitable I was, but I had a pretty influential bit of leverage with the Church of Lobelia in the form of an acquaintance called Nive. Thanks to that connection, I could stock up from them on the cheap.

There wasn’t a single thing I liked about the Church of Lobelia itself, but their holy water was excellent quality, so I often found myself begrudgingly buying it anyway.

Other than that, Lillian of the Church of the Eastern Sky had regained her strength as a saint, so the quality of the holy water from their branch in Maalt would probably improve before long. I’d been purchasing it occasionally for a while, but its efficacy had been on the weaker side, so I was looking forward to the change.

Once their holy water improved, it would be nice if I could get a friend’s discount, but I wasn’t going to force the issue.

Even with the Church of Lobelia, I was only getting a discount because they didn’t want to offend me. I was really curious what kind of dirt Nive had on them, but trying to find out would mean having to see her again, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d be happy staying in the dark for the rest of eternity, honestly.

Rivul easily accepted my explanation about the flask. “Oh, holy water,” he said. “Traveling merchants bring it to town sometimes. We sprinkle it around the village once a year, on the day of the harvest festival.”

“To ward off monsters, right?”

“Yes. Though, it’s my understanding that it’s only a temporary measure...”

“It would be,” I agreed. “It does the job just fine, but it’s going to evaporate eventually. A particularly potent batch might work for a few months, but that’d eat into the budget pretty fast.”

The income of a small village couldn’t support the constant usage of holy water as monster repellent. Their once-a-year thing sounded like it came from some long-standing tradition that they still clung to as part of a ritual at harvest festivals and the like.

These days, there were a number of different things you could use as a monster repellent, but according to Lorraine, in the past, holy water had been the only option. In short, divinity was all the people of the time could rely on to protect them from monsters.

Mana and spirit existed back then too, of course, but it all came down to the inherent nature of divinity. Mana and spirit were latent resources that could be perceived and trained by people who possessed them to improve their ability in combat, but divinity was different. It was bestowed by gods or spirits as a blessing, and you could use it the moment you got it.

You could improve divinity with effort too, of course, but I had no doubt that in the distant past, the sheer ability to fight back against monsters without needing theory, logic, or effort was incomparably more important than it was today.

After all, that was why those who possessed divinity were venerated by religious organizations as saints.

“But, Rentt, how are you actually going to use that holy water?”

“Holy water is highly effective at dispersing malice. It’s true that it won’t last long—keeping the village safe the whole year round is probably too big of an ask—but it’s just the thing to handle a gathering of malice potent enough to spawn skeletons.”

Technically speaking, there was also the option of using my divinity instead of the holy water, but since the former was of more use in a fight, I wanted to save it. If holy water could do the job too, then that was just fine.

There was a hint of doubt in Rivul’s expression, though.

“Just watch,” I said. “Hmm. Where should I sprinkle it...? The skeleton knight spawned around...here, right?”

Rivul nodded. “Yes, it was around there, I think.”

“Then this’ll do.”

I began to scatter the holy water.

◆◇◆◇◆

Not to spell out the obvious, but I had to be careful with how much holy water I used. It wasn’t cheap, after all—especially when it came from the Church of Lobelia.

That being said, it wasn’t the most expensive thing around either, and the Nive discount meant I got it cheaper than the market price. Still, being reckless with it would blow through the pay for this commission and leave me worse off than I was before I’d accepted it.

On the other hand, being too tightfisted with the holy water wouldn’t have the desired effect on the lingering malice, leading to the possibility of more skeletons spawning eventually. I had to be careful to use just the right amount...

To ensure that, I needed to ascertain where the malice was the thickest. Fortunately—or maybe it was more of a silver lining in something unfortunate?—I had been able to spot it when the skeleton knight had spawned.

That exact area would be where the malice was gathered, so if I focused my purification efforts there, it should have the greatest effect. If I hadn’t seen the skeleton knight spawn, I would’ve had to go through all the investigative work of walking around and carefully examining every part of the cave.

Of course, someone with magical sight like Lorraine would be able to pinpoint the source of the malice immediately. People like that were rare though, and those who could use their magical eyes to their fullest potential were even rarer. That only made Lorraine’s usefulness stand out even more.

Whatever the case, I couldn’t worry about that kind of thing now, I had malice to purify. I uncorked the flask of holy water and began sprinkling it around in small amounts.

The unpleasant sensation I was feeling as a result of the gathered malice slowly began to dissipate. Even Rivul, who hardly had any mana, seemed to notice the change.

“Is it just me, or does the air feel more...cheerful, now?”

“It’s because the malice is dissipating,” I explained. “There, that should do it. Now, if I just do a brief exorcism...”

This time, instead of scattering the holy water in all directions, I drizzled some onto my sword and shook it as I walked around the cave. This would get rid of any lingering malice that might have stuck around. Even if there wasn’t enough to spawn monsters, leaving any malice at all would allow it to build up over time again, so this step was necessary to ensure a clean job.

Continuing to just scatter the holy water around would’ve been an unnecessary waste, though, which was why I was using my sword.

After a while of doing that, the surrounding air had been thoroughly purified. It even felt like that clammy atmosphere unique to caves had gone with it—though that was definitely just my imagination.

And then, it was done.

“You shouldn’t get any more skeletons bothering you,” I said, then paused. “Probably.”

Rivul’s expression became one of relief. “Really?!”

“Really. Though, I suspect this cave might be a place where malice gathers easily, so I’d recommend hiring an adventurer once a year to scatter holy water around. The cheap stuff will do.”

“I see... I’ll inform the headman when we return to the village,” Rivul said, before suddenly stumbling forward with a cry. “Ah!”

“Whoa, hey. What are you doing? Don’t tell me that was you jumping for joy.”

“No, um...I tripped over something.”

“You did? Let me see...”

Upon closer inspection, I saw that Rivul was right: there was some sort of object sticking out of the ground near his feet. His foot must have caught on it.

Curious, I dug it out. “It’s...a cup?”

“Looks like it,” Rivul agreed. “What’s that doing in a place like this?”

The cup was small, and it had a dull sheen to it. It didn’t look particularly high quality.

“I guess it could’ve belonged to an adventurer or warrior who came here before—maybe even that skeleton knight I just fought. It’s certainly in the right place for it.”

“Oh, I see. That would make sense. It doesn’t look particularly valuable, though.”

“You never know—it might take on a nice shine if you polished it. Whatever the case, I’ll bring it to Maalt to have it appraised. I can sell it for some coin if it turns out to be worth something.”

“You saying that makes me remember that you really are an adventurer, Rentt. It’s kind of refreshing, actually. You didn’t seem all that concerned about money.”

“Hey, come on. I like money as much as the next person. I love finding treasures like this one.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it treasure, given what it looks like...”

Rivul was looking at the cup as though it were nothing more than a dirty piece of tableware—which was probably exactly what it was, so I couldn’t blame him, really.

“Well, in any case, our business here is finished,” I said. “Let’s head back to the village.”

“Yes, let’s. I want to tell everyone the good news as soon as I can. I’m sure they’ll have something delicious ready for us when we get back too. We’re not done rebuilding yet, but the hunting was going just fine.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

We headed for the cave’s exit, chatting. Then, a sudden thought occurred to me.

“That skeleton knight was unusually strong...”

Skeleton knights varied greatly in terms of their strength. Even the weakest was far above a regular skeleton, of course, but the one I’d just fought had been no small fry.

Still, I’d kept my guard up and managed to defeat it, so I supposed everything had turned out all right in the end.

“Is something the matter, Rentt?” Rivul asked, curious as to why I had suddenly stopped walking.

I hurriedly began moving again. “No, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about how glad I am that I managed to beat that skeleton knight.”

Thus, Rivul and I headed back to the village.

◆◇◆◇◆

After Rentt and Rivul had made their departure, two figures appeared at the back of the cave.

“All that work, and this is how it ends?” One of them said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “With nothing to show for it?”

The other’s voice was laced with hatred. “I didn’t expect an adventurer to come along now of all times. To begin with, didn’t I tell you to keep contact with the outside to a minimum, and not to bother the villagers?”

“And I did exactly that, thank you very much. Imitating a traveling merchant was a huge pain, but I completed all the work you asked of me. None of this was my fault, so could you lay off?”

A pause. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“There you go. Knowing when to apologize is one of your good points. Look, you were just unlucky. You saw how that fight went. It’s rare that adventurers of such skill show up here in the middle of nowhere. And if you had to be foiled anywhere, this is as good a place as any. It was only a spare, after all.”

“Yes, but I was also getting the best results here... I managed to make the evolution get as far as a skeleton knight. But now I’ve lost the cup.”

“That was ‘Existential Evolution’? It looked like a regular spawning.”

“What are you talking about? You saw how the base product transformed into malice and gathered to give form to the skeleton knight, didn’t you? It might have looked like a regular spawning, since the cup was artificially encouraging the process along, but—”

“Ugh, enough with the complicated stuff. I can take that to mean you did what you needed to do, right?”

“More or less. It’s a shame it wasn’t able to reach the final stage, but the results I have now will suffice. The cup is a sore loss too, but they won’t get anything out of appraising it. We’re done here. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where to, next? Welfia?”

“There’s raw materials ripe for the picking there. It’s sure to advance my research.”

“It’s nothing but research this, research that with you. Whatever. I’ve got orders to follow you, so I guess I will.”

“Then stop complaining.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The two figures vanished, leaving nothing behind.