Rokka no Yuusha - Volume 1 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 
A Departure and Two Meetings 

Three months earlier, Adlet Mayer had been in the Land of Bountiful Fields, Piena, situated in the center of the continent. It was the greatest nation by every metric—in landmass, population, military strength, and also the prosperity of its inhabitants. Regardless of the category, no other country surpassed its grandeur. The royal family’s influence echoed throughout the entire continent, and it was fair to say that Piena was the preeminent power in the land, effectively reigning over all. 
At that time, the annual Tournament Before the Divine was being held in the royal capital of Piena. Since the greatest country in the world was hosting this tournament, the scale was of course grand. Competitors included knights of Piena, tough-guy infantrymen, well-known representatives of every nearby nation, famous mercenaries, and finally, Saints bestowed with the power of Spirits. Even unaffiliated fighters and city dwellers with confidence in their abilities were participating. The tournament opened its doors to all sorts of people, with the number of competitors exceeding fifteen hundred. 
However, Adlet Mayer’s name was not on the tournament list. 
“And for the semifinals! On the western side, Batoal Rainhawk, captain of the royal guard of the Land of Bountiful Fields, Piena!” 
An old, gray-haired knight emerged from the western side of the coliseum. The arena filled with cheers. 
“And on the eastern side! Representing the Red Bear mercenaries, Quato Ghine of the Verdant Land, Tomaso!” 
A man so gigantic he could have passed for a bear emerged from the east to face the knight. The cheers for him were no less enthusiastic than those for the old knight. 
The monthlong tournament was finally approaching its finale. There were only three competitors and two matches remaining. The stands were packed with an audience of more than ten thousand. 
The coliseum sat in a temple adjacent to the royal palace—in fact, you might even say that this arena was itself the temple, where the Spirit of Fate was worshipped. A statue of a holy woman holding a single flower stood at the southern wall, warmly watching over the two warriors. 
“To both combatants: Know that this is not a regular duel. You battle before the great king of Piena, and before the Spirit of Fate that safeguards the peace of our world. We wish for a fair and noble battle, one worthy of the Spirit’s witness,” the high chancellor instructed them, facing the pair. 
But neither of the warriors paid any heed. They glared at each other with enough intensity to generate sparks, or so it seemed. As the audience looked on, they, too, were gradually drawn into the tension. This year’s tournament had special meaning. There had been plausible-sounding rumors that the winner would be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. 
“As you know,” continued the high chancellor, “he who wins this battle will fight the victor of last year’s tournament, Her Highness Princess Nashetania. The cowardly and the base are unworthy of facing her. So both of you must…” The high chancellor of Piena droned on for quite some time. Few noticed the rather quiet, unusual event that occurred as he spoke. 
A single boy approached from the coliseum’s southern gate. The guards made no attempt to stop him. The high chancellor’s personal retinue scrutinized the boy but didn’t make a move, either. Nor did the audience pay him much mind. His demeanor was so casual, people believed stopping him would have been out of line. 
Long red hair spilled off his head. He wore plain clothes—no armor, no helmet—and a wooden sword was slung over his back. Four belts were strapped about his waist, with a number of little pouches fastened to them. The boy wedged his way in between the two warriors and said, smiling, “Pardon me, guys.” 
The high chancellor, shocked at the sudden intrusion, berated this interloper. “Who are you?! This is beyond rude!” 
“My name is Adlet Mayer,” the boy replied. “I’m the strongest man in the world.” The two warriors who had been about to fight the decisive semifinal match glowered at this upstart—Adlet Mayer. But Adlet paid them no mind. “I’m here to notify you of a change in the matchups. It’s gonna be Adlet, the strongest man in the world, versus you two.” 
“Just who do you think you are?! Are you mad?!” The high chancellor’s face was turning red. 
But Adlet ignored him. At this point, the audience broke into murmurs, finally noticing that something was amiss. 
“Come on, hurry up and kick this idiot out,” said the mercenary, irritated his fight had been interrupted. Finally, the high chancellor’s personal guard remembered their duties and lifted their clubs. 
Adlet grinned. “Aaand the match begins!” His hands moved faster than the eye could see. Something flew from his fingertips, hurtling at the faces of the four guards. The soldiers clutched their faces and began moaning in pain. 
“You guys really are good,” said Adlet. He wasn’t looking at the honor guard. His eyes were on the old knight and the mercenary who stood on either side of him. Both of them held, pinched in their fingers, the poisoned needles Adlet had thrown. The points had been dipped in a nerve toxin that stimulated pain receptors. The poison was mild, but it would cause pure agony for about thirty minutes. 
The mercenary and the old knight drew their swords simultaneously. It seemed they had finally realized that the intruder was not just any idiot. The mercenary swung at Adlet, holding nothing back. Though his weapon was simply a dull practice sword, the blow would most certainly mean instant death if it connected. 
“Heh!” Adlet chuckled, ducking the attack. Without waiting even a second, the old knight charged him from behind. But Adlet reached into the pouches on his belt with blinding speed. He produced a tiny bottle with his right hand and turned to toss it. 
The old knight grunted, slapping away the bottle with the flat of his sword. The little bottle had only contained water, but it was distraction enough to give Adlet an opening. The old knight and the mercenary went on the defensive, putting some distance between themselves and Adlet as they occupied positions to his front and rear. If this were a regular fight, the situation would have spelled inevitable defeat. But Adlet had found a sure way to win. 
He pulled a small ball of paper from one of his pouches and threw it on the ground. Instantly, there was an explosion at his feet. Smoke surrounded Adlet, concealing him. 
“What the hell?!” 
“What trick is this?!” 
The old knight and mercenary simultaneously voiced their astonishment. 
Of course, neither of them would be undone by mere sleight of hand. Adlet moved fast. Exceptionally so. Within the cloud of smoke, he extracted another tool from one of his pouches. While his two opponents were still baffled by the smoke, he laid the groundwork for his victory. First, Adlet leaped at the old knight, pulling out the wooden sword at his back as he struck. 
“Not good enough!” the knight yelled. 
The moment the old warrior blocked his attack, Adlet released the wooden sword. He used both hands to hold down the old man’s arms, moved his face close, and then clacked his teeth together. 
Perhaps the old knight hadn’t seen the striking flint set on Adlet’s teeth or the spray of high-purity alcohol that spurted from his mouth. 
“Gah!” the old knight cried out as flames erupted in his face. 
Still grasping one of the old man’s arms, Adlet turned his back to his adversary, then hurled him over his shoulder. The knight’s back hit the ground, and he could move no more. Adlet immediately spun around, but not to face his remaining opponent. His attack was already done. 
Slowly, the haze of the smoke bomb cleared. The mercenary was crouching low within the cloud, holding his legs as he shrieked in anguish. 
“Sorry. Those poison needles hurt, don’t they? I would’ve preferred defeating you with different methods, if I could.” Adlet furrowed his brows as he smiled audaciously. 
Something resembling large thumbtacks was scattered in the spot where Adlet had been standing scant moments earlier. They weren’t really noticeable unless you were looking for them—they were painted a pale gray, the same color as the ground in the coliseum. The points of the tacks were coated with that same nerve toxin that inflicted horrific pain. The mercenary had charged through the smoke, intending to catch Adlet from behind, only to step on those spikes. Had he been wearing iron leggings or sturdy leather footwear, the attack might easily have been deflected. However, it seemed the mercenary valued quick footwork in particular, as he wore light and nimble cloth shoes. When Adlet had first sized up his opponents, he had paid special attention to their feet. 
“How do you like that? I win!” Adlet yelled. 
The audience was dumbstruck. Just hearing his announcement apparently wasn’t enough to make them believe that some nameless interloper could come in and defeat two top contenders at the tournament in under ten seconds. 
“Wh-what are you all doing?! Come here, now! Surround him! Surround him and capture him!” The high chancellor, panicked, yelled at the soldiers encircling the arena. The soldiers needed no additional prodding—they removed the covers from their spears, advancing toward the center of the coliseum. 
Right before their attack, Adlet turned to the holy statue that watched over the battle and shouted, “My name is Adlet Mayer! I’m the strongest man in the world! Do you hear me, Spirit of Fate? If you don’t choose me as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, you’re gonna regret it!” 
The guards charged Adlet. At this point, the audience finally seemed to realize what was going on. “Royal guard! Draw your swords! Catch the boy!” The audience in the spectators’ seats spilled into the arena as well. The fallen knight and mercenary rose and faced Adlet once more. This arena for sacred battles, where warriors demonstrated their strength before the Spirit, was now host to a chaotic brawl. 
And so, from that day forth, Adlet Mayer’s name resounded throughout the land…as the Wicked Trickster Adlet, the Cowardly Warrior Adlet, the worst Brave candidate in all of history. 
One thousand years ago, a monster appeared on the continent. Little was known about the creature, such as where it came from, why it was born, what it felt, what it wanted, or even if it had will or sentience in the first place. No one even knew if it was actually alive. The beast just appeared suddenly, without warning. 
Some testimonies remained from the very few who had encountered the creature and survived. The monster was a few dozen meters in length. They said that it did not have a static form, but rather resembled living, shifting mud. It was the only one of its kind that had ever appeared in the world. Its body emitted toxins; acid that melted everything it touched oozed from the beast’s tentacles. Then it began attacking humans. It did not eat them or play with them. It simply killed for the sake of killing. It divided its own body, creating monsters to serve as its minions, and killed even more. This foul pestilence had no name, because there was no need to give it one. There was no other creature that could even occupy the same category. This monster was simply called the Evil God. 
At the time, the continent was ruled by the great Eternal Empire of Rohanae. The empire dominated the whole world, but even after bringing the strength of its entire army to bear, it had been unable to defeat the Evil God. The nation was laid to waste, its royal line died out, and its towns and villages were razed to the ground. 
Just as the people despaired, accepting that it was their fate to be destroyed, a Saint came to them. With a single flower as her only weapon, the Saint stood against the Evil God. She was the only one in the world who could fight it. 
It was a long, long battle. Finally, the Saint chased the Evil God to the westernmost tip of the continent and defeated it. When she returned, the Saint said, The Evil God is not dead. One day, it will awaken from its slumber in the west and transform the world into a hell. And so she prophesied: When it reawakens, six Braves will appear to inherit my power, and they are destined to subdue the Evil God once more. She described how the crest of a six-petaled flower would appear on the bodies of the chosen warriors. And that is why they were called the Braves of the Six Flowers. 
Twice the Evil God rose from its dormancy, and twice, six Braves appeared—just as had been foretold—and sealed it away once more. 
To be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, there was a condition: A Brave-to-be had to demonstrate his or her power at one of the temples to the Spirit of Fate that the Saint of the Single Flower had constructed. There were thirty of these temples across the continent. Easily more than ten thousand candidates would come from all over the land to demonstrate their strength at these temples. When the Evil God woke, the best six among them would receive the Crest of the Six Flowers. To be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers was the greatest honor for a warrior. They all dreamed of being chosen as one of the Braves, and Adlet was no exception. 
Rumor held that the Evil God’s resurrection was nigh. Over the past few years, a number of omens had been observed. It could happen as late as the end of the year or as soon as the very next day. 
“……I regret my actions. I accept that I’ve done wrong.” It was three days after the semifinal match of the tournament, and Adlet was imprisoned in a jail for the most heinous of criminals. The high chancellor stood on the other side of the bars, a sour look on his face. 
Adlet was seriously injured. His head, shoulders, and both legs were wrapped in bandages, and his right arm hung in a sling. Even Adlet couldn’t have escaped unscathed when so outnumbered. He took a seat on the cold bed, faced the high chancellor in front of his cell, and spoke. “Just so you know, I did want to enter the tournament legitimately. But there were these rules and stuff, and they just wouldn’t let me into the arena,” he grumbled. The Tournament Before the Divine had rules. The weapons allowed were limited, permissible tactics were restricted, and foul play or attempts to catch one’s opponent by surprise were forbidden. Had he followed the rules, Adlet would have been useless. “As you know, I’m the strongest man in the world, but those rules kinda cramped my style. So I had no choice but to ignore them and invite myself in.” 
“What is your goal?” demanded the high chancellor. 
“Duh. To be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers.” 
“A Brave? You? A scoundrel like you, chosen as one of the honorable Braves of the Six Flowers?” 
“Oh, I’ll be chosen. Of course I will. ’Cause I’m the strongest man in the world.” Adlet smiled, and the high chancellor struck the iron bars. This old guy sure lacks self-control , thought Adlet. 
“You feel no remorse at all!” the old man accused. 
“Yes, I do. I really do. I injured a lot of people, like the soldiers in your personal guard and the royal guard.” 
“And how do you feel about having made a mess of this sacred tournament?” 
“What does that matter?” 
The high chancellor emitted an incomprehensible sound and drew his sword. His bodyguards desperately restrained him as he attempted to pry open the lock of Adlet’s cell. “Listen, you! You’ll stay in here forever! You’re headed for the noose! Absolutely!” With his soldiers escorting him, the high chancellor exited the jail. 
Adlet sprawled out on the bed and shrugged as if to say, What a mess. 
He remembered his confrontation with the old knight and the mercenary three days earlier. Both had been terrifyingly strong. If Adlet had made even one wrong move, he would most likely have lost. But he’d still managed to pull off a victory. It hadn’t been a pretty fight, but still, he had won. That was proof enough that he was the strongest man in the world. 
“Now that I think of it, that was the only letdown,” Adlet muttered as he rolled around on his bunk. He was thinking about Princess Nashetania—Nashetania Rouie Piena Augustra, the crown princess of the Land of Bountiful Fields, Piena. She was of noble birth, first in line to inherit the crown, and also the strongest warrior in Piena. He had heard she was a Saint, wielding power she had received from the Spirit of Blades, and capable of conjuring blades from thin air at will. Nashetania had been the victor of the sacred tournament the previous year. The winner of the match that Adlet had interrupted would have competed with her in the final round. Adlet had wanted to battle Nashetania. Even if he couldn’t fight her, he’d at least wanted to see her face. He’d figured that if he defeated the two men, with any luck, she might have turned up. But in the end, she was a no-show. Well, it doesn’t really matter, anyway , he thought, yawning. 
“Oh. I found you.” Just then, a voice addressed him from the other side of the bars. The person standing there looked out of place in the somber prison. 
“Who’re you?” asked Adlet. 
The maiden was beautiful and blond with a wonderful, soothing smile. She wore a maid’s black uniform, but it didn’t suit her. It would have been more fitting on a plainer girl. “You’re Adlet, right? Pardon me, but could you come over here?” His visitor beckoned him to come close. 
Confused, Adlet got up, moving toward the bars. When he approached her, a sweet smell like apples wafted toward him. It was a pleasant, enchanting scent that he had never smelled before. 
“Please, shake my hand.” Suddenly, the girl passed her hand through the space between the bars. 
“Huh?” 
“I apologize for the sudden intrusion. You put on such a show in that fight three days ago. It left quite an impression on me. You’ve made me a fan.” 
“…Huh? What?” The girl’s scent had melted all the circuits in his brain, and that was all the reply he could muster. 
“Please shake my hand. Come on.” 
Adlet did as he was told and lightly grasped the hand she extended. It was so soft, he marveled that such suppleness could even exist. 
Lightly pressing her palm in his, the girl said, “You’re really anxious, aren’t you, Adlet? Is this perhaps the first time you’ve ever held a girl’s hand?” She covered her mouth as she gave him a mean smile. 
Adlet panicked and released her hand. “Wh-what’re you talking about? I’m totally calm. I’ve held girls’ hands lots of times.” 
His guest giggled. “You’re blushing.” 
When she laughed, it felt like the apple scent she exuded became even stronger. Adlet looked away, covering his flushed cheeks. 
“You’re such a great fighter, but you can’t handle girls?” she teased. 
“Come on. Adlet Mayer is the strongest man in the world. There’s nothing the strongest man in the world can’t handle.” 
“I’m glad I came down here. You really are interesting.” She laughed. “I want to know more about you. Can we talk?” 
Adlet nodded. The apple-scented girl gave him a mischievous smile. Suddenly, Adlet realized that he still hadn’t asked her name. 
Adlet Mayer was turning eighteen that year. He hailed from a small, remote country in the west, the Land of White Lakes, Warlow. When he was ten years old, circumstances had caused him to leave the village he called home. He had no lover and no friends. His parents had passed away when he was young. For a very long time, he had secluded himself in the mountains with his master, spending his days training to defeat the Evil God. He had refined his swordplay, honed his body, and learned how to make and use all sorts of secret gadgets. He practiced a unique form of combat that combined swordsmanship with the employment of various tools. He was affiliated with no organization and followed no leader. He was an autonomous warrior, his only goals being to fight the Evil God and the continued improvement of his skills. That was Adlet’s background. 
Those who lived by the sword would normally be affiliated with an order of knights or a mercenary band, as fighting with those groups could earn money and prestige. But Adlet had no interest in either of those things—all he cared about was fighting and bringing down the Evil God. There were very few completely unconnected warriors like him, even across the entire continent. 
After completing his long training, Adlet had descended the mountain and attempted to enter the martial tournament in Piena to make sure that he was indeed the strongest man in the world, he told her. 
The girl who smelled of apples listened to Adlet’s story enthusiastically. He didn’t know exactly what she found so fascinating, though. “So that’s why I came to show the Spirit of Fate that I’m the strongest man on earth. Sorry, it’s not very interesting,” he said, finishing. 
The fruit-scented girl applauded by way of reply. Adlet had felt embarrassed at first, but gradually, he’d gotten acclimated to talking to her. Besides, it really was nice to have a cute girl listen to him. 
“No, it was interesting,” she insisted. “I really am glad I made the effort to come down here to meet you. Now I kind of feel like I’ve heard the phrase ‘the strongest man in the world’ enough for a lifetime.” 
“Oh?” Adlet had a habit of describing himself as “the strongest man in the world.” Whenever he talked about himself, he always added that line. “Well, it’s an undeniable fact that I’m the strongest man in the world, so I’m gonna be proactive about saying it out loud.” 
“But can you really claim to be the strongest so easily? You still haven’t beaten Nashetania, have you?” the girl asked with an edge of challenge. 
But Adlet paid that no mind. “I hear she’s pretty strong. But I’m stronger.” 
“There are lots of other strong people out there.” 
“Of course. But I’m convinced there’s nobody out there stronger than me.” 
“What basis do you have for that conviction?” 
“I know I’m the strongest man in the world. That’s all.” 
“That’s all?” she pressed. 
“I know it. The Spirit of Fate knows it, too. Now all I have to do is show it to the Evil God and everyone else in the world.” 
“You really do have amazing self-confidence.” 
“It’s not confidence. It’s unmistakable fact.” 
The girl smiled, not quite sure how to reply. 
Well, I’m not surprised she’s confused , Adlet thought. This was her first time meeting the strongest man in the world, after all. “By the way, can I ask you something?” 
“Of course. What is it?” she replied. 
“I’d like to get out of here. Do you have any good ideas?” 
“You want to escape? Why?” 
What an unflappable girl , thought Adlet. He’d been expecting a slightly different reaction from her. Adlet told her about how the high chancellor of Piena had been wailing about putting him to death. The prison sentence had been inevitable, but the death penalty would pose a bit of a problem. 
The girl put her hand to her jaw and deliberated. “I believe you’ll be all right. The high chancellor is angry, but I doubt he can put you to death since there were no serious casualties.” 
“Oh, well, that’s good.” Adlet was relieved. Escaping from prison in his condition would have been a bit rough. “What happened with the tournament after I was taken away? Was it called off?” 
“No. It is as if your incident had never happened. Yesterday they had a rematch, and the mercenary Quato won the semifinals by a narrow margin. Nashetania scored an overwhelming victory in the final match.” Adlet had the feeling she’d just invoked the princess’s name without using her title, but that was probably his imagination. 
“That’s surprising,” he said. “So the mercenary won, huh? The old man was a little better, though.” 
“It seems you injured Batoal’s shoulder with that throw.” 
“I tried to hold back, but I guess it wasn’t enough. I feel kinda bad about that.” 
After that, Adlet and the girl’s conversation turned to more trivial things, like how seeing the magnificence of Piena’s capital had left him awestruck and about his troubles on account of how expensive everything was there. The girl was friendly and easy to talk to, and they became absorbed in the conversation. 
“Oh!” A serious expression suddenly overcame his visitor, as if her memory had just been jogged. “I forgot. I came to tell you about something. This isn’t the time for chat.” 
“What is it? Sounds like it’s nothing good.” 
The girl held her breath, speaking in a whisper. “Do you know about the Brave-killer?” 
“What’re you talking about?” 
“Have you heard of the knight of the Land of Golden Fruit, Matra Wichita?” 
“Yeah, I know the name.” There were a lot of rumors going around about who would be chosen to be the Braves of the Six Flowers, and that name had come up many times. They said he was a prodigious young knight and the greatest archer in the world. 
“And do you know Houdelka of the Land of Silver Sand? And Athlay, the Saint of Ice?” 
Adlet nodded. Both were the names of famous warriors. “Did something happen?” 
“They were killed. And we don’t know who did it.” 
“Fiends?” 
“Probably.” 
The creatures known as fiends, minions of the Evil God, prepared for the revival of their lord by secretly readying themselves to attack the Braves of the Six Flowers. They infiltrated the continent, carrying out all kinds of plots—and now it seemed one of them was going around eliminating anyone likely to be chosen as a Brave. 
“They’re not the kind of people who’d be taken out that easily by some fiend,” mused Adlet. “How the hell would they—?” 
“I don’t know.” 
“What a pain in the ass.” 
“Adlet, I think it would be best for you to stay here,” she said. “It will be dangerous no matter where you go, but here, you will be heavily guarded.” 
“That’s true. Then I’ll stay put until I’m all healed up.” 
As she looked out the window restlessly, it seemed the girl had finished delivering her warning. “I’m sorry. If I don’t go now, they’ll be angry with me. Well, they will be angry regardless, but it will be even worse if I stay any longer.” 
“I don’t mind. Go on.” 
The maiden bobbed her head and was about to leave when Adlet stopped her. “If you do meet the princess, tell her…” He paused. “She’s sure to be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. Tell her I’m looking forward to the day we fight together.” 
“…Huh?” The girl’s mouth hung open. And then, for some reason, she giggled. 
“What?” 
“No, sorry. I’ll tell her. If I get the chance to see her.” She walked to the door, turning back for a moment to stick out her tongue. “Adlet, you’re quite the fool, aren’t you?” 
Adlet wanted to ask what the girl was talking about, but she was already gone. He wondered what that might have been about, but having no clue, he decided to forget it. He lay down on the bed and gazed up at the ceiling, thinking about this killer who was after the Braves. 
“A Brave-killer, huh? Once I’m chosen, I guess I’ll end up fighting whoever that is, too.” The cheerful, happy-go-lucky expression disappeared from his face. Now, a quiet anger lurked in his eyes. 
Just as his guest had predicted, for Adlet’s sentence, they settled on an indefinite imprisonment. Well, that’s that , he thought, not bothering to object. Alone in his jail cell, the warrior waited for his wounds to heal. 
A few days later, Adlet discovered a gift in his cell—a sword small enough to hide in his bed. He figured this meant that when the time came, he should use it to protect himself. He didn’t know if the girl had arranged it or if he had some other fan. 
A month passed, then two. He continued training in his cell so as not to get out of shape. This Brave-killer he’d heard about didn’t turn up. 
After three months, his wounds were completely healed. Right around the time Adlet was starting to consider breaking out, something strange happened. One night, the fierce pounding of his heart woke him. His entire body felt hot, and his chest seethed with indescribable excitement. The feeling passed after about ten seconds, and then a faintly glowing crest appeared on Adlet’s right hand. The Evil God had awakened, and Adlet had been chosen to be one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. 
“Huh,” Adlet muttered, looking at the crest. “That was surprisingly simple.” He had imagined that his entire body would be enveloped in light or that the Spirit of Fate would appear and order him to defeat the Evil God or something. Feeling a little underwhelmed, Adlet stared at his hand. After a moment, he realized this wasn’t the time. “Hey! Somebody come over here!” Adlet banged on the iron bars of his cell as he called the guards. Once they knew he had been selected as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, they couldn’t keep him locked up. But if the guards didn’t come, he wasn’t going to get anywhere. “Isn’t anyone there? I was chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers!” 
The interior of his cell was strangely silent. He couldn’t detect the presence of any guards at all. Oh, well , he thought, I guess I’ll bust out , and that was when a sudden commotion sounded from the foot of the stairs. 
“Why have you come to a place like this? What on earth are you here for?!” 
“Batoal! I’m in a hurry! Please, don’t get in my way!” 
Both voices were familiar. One of them belonged to the girl who smelled of apples. Adlet figured the other one was the old knight he’d fought in the coliseum. He could also hear the thumping of many footsteps coming from behind the two. 
“Adlet! Were you chosen?” the girl cried, running up to Adlet’s cell. She wasn’t wearing the maid uniform from before. She was clad in magnificent white armor, a slim sword belted at her waist. On her head, she wore a helmet in the shape of rabbit’s ears. Adlet had heard somewhere that wearing helmets with animal motifs was a tradition of Piena’s royal family. 
The moment he saw her, Adlet understood who she really was and also what a fool he’d been. Most people would’ve figured that out , he thought with a wry smile. 
Standing before the cell, the girl said, “It’s been quite some time since we last saw each other. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Nashetania Rouie Piena Augustra, the crown princess of Piena and the current Saint of Blades.” 
The apple-scented girl—Nashetania—lifted up her breastplate and showed him the Crest of the Six Flowers near her collarbone. “I have now been selected as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. I’m very pleased to meet you.” 
“I’m Adlet Mayer, the strongest man in the world. Pleased to meet you, too.” Adlet showed her the crest on his right hand. 
“Princess! What are you doing?! You don’t have the time to be talking to someone like him!” The old knight ran up to the two of them, but then Adlet showed him, too, the Crest of the Six Flowers on his right hand. The knight’s eyes widened, and he fell silent. 
“We must go now. Our time is limited.” Nashetania unlocked the door of Adlet’s cell, and he stepped out. Ignoring the old knight’s cries as he tried to stop them, the pair broke into a run. 
“Did you get us horses?” asked Adlet. 
“They’re over this way!” 
The two of them leaped out a window and landed on the grass. There, a woman who looked to be Nashetania’s maid was awkwardly leading two horses toward them. 
“You’re all prepared, huh?” Adlet observed. 
“Yes,” replied Nashetania. “Let us be off!” 
Together, they straddled their horses and set off at a gallop. The old knight and the soldiers shouted after them, clamoring about a departure ceremony, an audience with the king, and other trivial matters. Looking at Nashetania’s profile as she rode beside him, Adlet smiled. It looked like he was going to get along with this girl. Apparently, she was thinking the same thing, as she turned to him and grinned. 
One thousand years ago, a woman known as the Saint of the Single Flower defeated the Evil God and sealed it away on the westernmost edge of the continent, a land called the Balca Peninsula. Presently, the area fell under the territory of the Land of Iron Mountains, Gwenvaella. The peninsula was shaped sort of like a flask, with the narrow end attached to the continent. The plan was for the Braves of the Six Flowers to gather at the base of that peninsula. Every warrior who demonstrated his or her power before the Spirit of Fate at a temple surely knew that. No matter from where in the world each of the six Braves hailed, if they waited at that point, they would inevitably meet the others. 
After the Evil God awakened, it would take a while for the creature to regain its full strength. Before the Evil God’s powers were replenished, the six Braves would have to make it to the very tip of the Balca Peninsula to seal the beast away once more. It would take the Evil God at least thirty days from the time of its awakening to reach its peak strength. Though that seemed like more than enough time, in actuality, it was not. Over ten thousand fiends lay in wait on that peninsula for the Braves of the Six Flowers. Only six warriors would step into that realm. It was bound to be a long and difficult battle. During the past two conflicts, over half of the six Braves had sacrificed their lives. But those who feared death would not be chosen to begin with. 
The Balca Peninsula was rarely called by its formal name. This expansive swath of earth, eagerly awaiting the revival of the Evil God, resounded with the wailing of fiends. That was why the place was called the Howling Vilelands. 
After leaving the royal capital of Piena, the two Braves first stopped by Adlet’s hideout. There, the eager warrior equipped himself. He stuffed a variety of secret tools into the pouches at his waist and packed explosives, poisons, and concealable weapons into the large iron box that he carried on his back. This vast array of instruments would be invaluable in defeating the Evil God. Without them, Adlet would have been unable to declare himself the strongest man in the world. The iron box was sturdy and heavy. A regular person would become short of breath just bearing it on their back. But for Adlet, it was no great burden. 
After that, the companions galloped for a whole day out of the Land of Bountiful Fields, Piena. Now, they were in the Land of Golden Fruit, Fandaen. 
“They won’t chase us any farther, will they?” 
“I’m sure they’ve given up by now, Nashetania.” Looking over their shoulders, they were of course referencing the crowd from the royal palace in Piena that had been chasing after Nashetania. “Don’t you think that was a little cold of you, though? They’re your vassals, aren’t they?” 
“They are, but dealing with them is still trying.” 
Adlet was purposely not addressing his partner as a princess. It was his intention to treat her entirely like a comrade on equal footing, and Nashetania seemed fine with that. 
As they proceeded down the road, the two of them slowed their pace a bit in order to give their exhausted horses a break. Orchards surrounded them as far as the eye could see. The Land of Golden Fruit, as indicated by its name, was a country that grew delicious fruit. 
“It’s so pretty,” remarked Nashetania. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen so many cultivated fruit trees.” 
“Really?” said Adlet. 
She seemed to be enjoying herself as she took in the scenery. Adlet thought the trees were nothing special, but he supposed it must have been an unusual sight for her. A horse cart stacked with lemons passed by them, heading in the opposite direction. 
“Pardon me,” called out Nashetania. “May I have one?” 
What’re you doing? Adlet wondered. 
Without even waiting for the coachman to reply, Nashetania grabbed a lemon. She crushed it in her hand and drank the juice with relish. “That was delicious!” She wiped her mouth and tossed the squeezed remains of the lemon into the cart. It seemed this princess was a little strange—though this was not news to Adlet. “It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it?” she commented, licking the juice off her hand. “I thought the Evil God’s awakening would be so much more serious.” 
“This is how it is. The last time the Evil God awoke, and the time before that, the world was at peace. You only see disturbances once you’re close to the Howling Vilelands,” said Adlet. “It only stops being peaceful if we lose.” 
“Indeed. Let’s do our best.” 
Next, it was a cart stacked with carrots that came down the road toward them. Nashetania hopped off her horse again and took one without asking. There’s no way she’s gonna eat it raw , thought Adlet, but in fact, she did. Nashetania summoned a narrow blade out of thin air. The blade moved too fast for the eye to catch, cleanly peeling the carrot in only moments. 
“Is that the power of the Spirit of Blades?” asked Adlet. 
“That it is. Fantastic, right? Since I’m a Saint.” Nashetania puffed out her chest as she chomped on the carrot. “And I can do this, too,” she said, raising her index finger. A blade sprouted from the ground, one over five meters in length. It was slender and frighteningly sharp. If it pierced either human or fiend, its victim would be done for. “And even this.” She directed her index finger toward Adlet, summoning blades about thirty centimeters long around the digit. One after another, they shot at Adlet’s face. 
“What’re you doing?! You idiot!” 
“This is easy enough for you to dodge, isn’t it?” Nashetania cackled as she continued peppering him with projectiles. 
Though he dodged them easily, he was privately amazed by the power of the Saint of Blades. 
Saint was a general term for warriors who controlled supernatural powers. There were fewer than eighty of them in the world, and all of them were, without exception, women. They said that within the body of each Saint resided a Spirit that governed the providence of all things. By borrowing the abilities of the Spirit within, a Saint could wield powers beyond human capacity. Among the many Spirits, the one that inhabited Nashetania’s body was the Spirit of Blades. Each Spirit had only one Saint. No one else besides Nashetania could currently utilize the power of the Spirit of Blades. If she were to die or relinquish her power, someone else would be chosen as the Saint of Blades. In addition to Nashetania and her power of blades, there were also the Saint of Fire, the Saint of Ice, the Saint of Mountains, and others with a variety of powers. A few of these people were bound to be chosen as Braves of the Six Flowers. The Saint of the Single Flower, the one who had defeated the Evil God in the past, had hosted the Spirit of Fate. 
“Cut that out!” Adlet grabbed one of the projectiles and threw it back at Nashetania. It hit her helmet and fell to the ground. 
“I’m sorry. I got carried away.” 
“No kidding.” 
“Are you angry?” 
“I am angry. Absolutely furious,” he said, and Nashetania suddenly wilted. With a sad look on her face, she bit into her raw carrot. I’m not that mad , Adlet thought, now regretting what he’d said. 
“I apologize.” Sounding depressed and completely different from before, Nashetania said, “I’m a bit strange. I’m always making my father and the maids cross with me.” 
“Hey, I’m not that mad.” 
“Maybe I’ll just be an annoyance no matter where I go.” 
She’s kind of hard to categorize , thought Adlet. She had dressed up in a maid’s uniform and visited him at the jail, fooled around on the road here, but then immediately gotten upset just because he was a little angry at her. It was uncomfortable. How should he deal with this? Grasping his horse’s reins, Adlet looked down. Still unable to come up with something to say, he rode along with her in silence. I’m the strongest man in the world, so why am I worrying over something so trivial? Adlet wondered, and he was about to say something to Nashetania when he noticed her glancing at him from the corner of her eye. 
“Did you seriously think I was upset?” she asked. 
“…Hey.” 
Nashetania put a hand to her mouth, a teasing smile on her face. He’d forgotten…she really loved mischief. 
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! You really are fun, Adlet.” 
“Damn it. My concern was wasted on you.” 
“I wouldn’t get upset over something like that. Relax.” 
Adlet looked away and slapped his horse’s rear, galloping away to leave Nashetania behind. 
“Please don’t be angry!” she pleaded. “I just got carried away.” 
“No kidding.” 
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m usually more restrained. This is just so nice, I cannot help but enjoy myself a little.” 
“We’re heading out to go fight the Evil God right now. Do you get that?” 
“I do. It’s just for now. I apologize.” Nashetania bowed her head, smiling. “This is a first for me. I know there will be fighting, but still, I can’t help myself.” 
“A first? A first what?” he asked. 
“First time being with someone like you.” Nashetania’s expression changed. Her smile turned from puckish to something kind and affectionate. She had a number of different smiles. Adlet suddenly felt shy. 
“Being able to speak as equals like this, to talk honestly about what I think and feel—you’re the first person I’ve been able to do that with,” she confided. 
Adlet went beyond shy to outright embarrassed. He glanced at Nashetania from the corner of his eye. Maybe she’s just amusing herself by embarrassing me , he considered, but that did not appear to be the case. 
“Oh, look—a wagon. I’ll go get myself another carrot.” Maybe she realized he was feeling self-conscious, or maybe she didn’t, but regardless, Nashetania began chomping on another raw carrot. Adlet’s shoulders slumped as he watched her. 
Following that, Nashetania continued to act as she pleased. Before long, the sun set, and night arrived. The two of them tied their horses by the side of the road and began setting up camp. Adlet wondered if Nashetania would be able to handle sleeping outdoors, having been raised in a palace, but she said she had done it many times, so she’d have no problems. Once Adlet was done laying out his bedding, he scanned the area, checking to see if there were any blind spots or cover where an enemy might hide. It was always best to be ready for a surprise attack. 
“What’s wrong?” Nashetania asked him. Her eyelids were drooping, and she looked quite sleepy and carefree indeed. 
“Hey, before we go to sleep, I’d like to ask you something,” said Adlet. “What happened with that killer who’s after the Braves?” 
“Oh yes, I haven’t told you about that yet, have I?” Nashetania’s expression grew grim. It seemed the news was not good. “I didn’t tell you before, but in fact, six months ago, Goldof left on a journey in search of the Brave-killer.” 
“Goldof…that’s a knight of yours, right?” Adlet knew the name. Goldof Auora: captain of the Black Horns knights. A prodigious young fighter and the pride of Piena’s royal army. He was the strongest knight in Piena, purported to rival Nashetania in strength. 
“Unfortunately, I haven’t heard anything heartening. The last communication I had from him was a month and a half ago, and all he said was that he had no leads.” 
“The killer might’ve taken him out.” 
“I think not!” Unusually for her, Nashetania’s voice rose. “Goldof is strong. I’ve never beaten him.” 
“What about that tournament last year?” he asked. Nashetania had been the victor of the Tournament Before the Divine the previous year. Adlet had heard that she had faced Goldof in the finals, and at the end of a desperate struggle, she had defeated him. 
“At the very end, he went easy on me. But there’s no helping that…because of my position. But I’ve never been so frustrated in my life. That’s why I made him promise me—he’s not allowed to die until I can defeat him in a rematch. That’s why Goldof can’t die. He wouldn’t.” Nashetania deliberated for a bit. “…I think.” 
“Do you have confidence in him or not?” 
“I have confidence in him. But he’s a little too young. He’s still only sixteen.” 
“That’s young, all right. Not like we can talk, though,” said Adlet. He was eighteen, and he had heard that Nashetania was the same age. They were rather young to be shouldering the fate of the world. 
“But Goldof is strong. He’s just a little unreliable in certain ways,” she said. 
“Well, I hope he’s as good as you say. So he hasn’t got any leads. Any other news?” 
“Yes. The Saint of Sun, Leura, disappeared a month ago.” 

“Leura? The Saint of Sun?” Adlet paused. That was another familiar name. That Saint was a living legend reported to wield the power of the Spirit of Sun. About forty years ago, during a war, she had displayed the full extent of her power. She had burned down a besieged castle by shining down rays of heat from the sky. Adlet had heard that she’d conquered over ten fortresses, all on her own. Once she was older, she’d taken over the role of the elder who governed the Saints, but by now, she should have retired from that job, too. “She’s famous, but she’s too old to be fighting, isn’t she?” 
“Yes, she’s over eighty,” replied Nashetania. “No matter how powerful she might be, I don’t think she’s in any state to be joining the battlefield.” 
“That’s weird, though. There should be others the killer would go after instead. Like me, or you, or Goldof. There’s even the Saint of Swamps, Chamo. There’re tons of powerful people out there.” 
“I think it’s odd, too…” Nashetania furrowed her brows. Sitting here talking wouldn’t change anything. 
“Well, whatever,” said Adlet. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll find out about this Brave-killer sooner or later.” 
“Sooner or later?” 
“We’ll end up fighting them. No doubt about it.” 
“Do you think the killer is a fiend? Or could it actually be a human?” 
“I don’t know.” 
Nashetania lay down on her bedding. Adlet closed his eyes, holding his knees to his chest. In that position, he could rest his mind and body while still staying alert. The evening went by without event, and so did the next day, and the next. The fact that nothing was happening only made Adlet more uneasy. 
The two of them continued their hurried journey for ten days. They swapped their horses out for fresh mounts multiple times, sleeping less than three hours a day as they progressed. At a normal pace, the trip would have taken nearly thirty days. They ended their long travels as they finally crossed the border into the Land of Iron Mountains, Gwenvaella, beyond which the Howling Vilelands lay. The road twisted through the ravine between steep mountains, and the whole area was covered in deep forests. 
Gradually, they started hearing more and more rumors about the Evil God. The closer they got to the Howling Vilelands, the grimmer the expressions of the people they encountered became. Once they reached the Land of Iron Mountains, here and there they began seeing families packing up their things to flee. 
“Let’s hurry,” said Nashetania. Her excitement had ebbed now that they were nearing their goal. She may have been innocent, but she wasn’t stupid. 
“Watch out. Fiends will probably start attacking us soon,” Adlet warned her. 
“How do you know?” 
“The enemy plans to strike before we can all get together. That’s what they did with the previous generation of Braves.” 
“You sure know a lot about this.” 
“My master pounded into my head everything there is to know about fiends,” he explained. “The different types, the environments they live in, their weaknesses, and behavior you can expect to see from them.” 
“I’ll be counting on you, then.” 
After that, Adlet and Nashetania continued down the road, and Nashetania spoke less and less. Finally, she stopped talking completely. 
Unable to take it anymore, Adlet broke the silence. “Nashetania.” 
She didn’t respond. Nashetania was clutching the reins of her horse, a brooding expression on her face. 
“Nashetania!” 
“Y-yes?!” 
“Are you feeling anxious?” he asked. 
The Brave’s knuckles were white from her grip on her reins. She released them to rub the sweat off on her thighs. It was evident that she’d lost her composure. 
“Calm down,” he said. “The fight hasn’t even started.” 
“Y-you’re right. I wonder why I’m so anxious.” 
This bothered Adlet. “Have you ever been in a real fight before? Have you ever experienced a serious battle, where people are trying to kill each other?” 
“I…” She trailed off. 
Guess not , thought Adlet. There was no helping that. She may not have been a model princess, but she was a princess nonetheless. 
“Am I really that powerful, Adlet? What if all this time, everyone has been going easy on me?” Nashetania fretted, looking at her palms as they dripped sweat. 
“Calm down. Don’t think about that.” 
“We haven’t even encountered any fiends yet… I have to calm down…” The way Nashetania was trembling, it was as if her earlier enthusiasm had never existed. Or no, perhaps her cheer thus far had been an attempt to stifle her anxiety. But Nashetania was no coward. Everyone felt nervous before their first real battle. That was always the case, regardless of strength. 
“Nashetania,” he said. “Smile.” 
“Huh?” 
“Smile. Start with that.” 
Nashetania stared at her hands, saying, “I can’t, Adlet. My hands won’t stop shaking. I can’t smile.” As she spoke, she lifted her head to face her companion. Adlet pressed up his nose with a finger while smooshing both his cheeks. Hnerk. Nashetania snorted, then covered her mouth, averting her eyes. 
“So you can laugh. Have you calmed down?” Adlet asked. 
Nashetania considered her palms again and then touched her neck, checking her pulse. “I feel a lot better. Thank you.” 
Seeing Nashetania’s expression, Adlet nodded. She would be okay. While she was still innocent and inexperienced, she was a fine warrior at heart. “That was the first thing my master taught me. To smile.” 
“You had a good teacher.” 
Adlet shrugged as if to say, I dunno about that. 
Now from that point onward, they headed directly for the entrance to the Howling Vilelands. Their primary goal was to unite with the others, but Adlet figured there would be other trials ahead of them first. 
It was then that a man carrying a child and a woman with an injured leg came running toward them from farther down the road. 
“What’s wrong?!” Nashetania dismounted and approached the trio. 
The woman clung to Nashetania and began to cry. “We tried to run away! We tried to run, before the…before the fiends came!” 
“Please, calm down!” said Nashetania. 
The woman began wailing, unable to continue. Nashetania looked at the man. 
“The people of our village were planning to escape to the capital together with the soldiers,” he explained. “But on the way, we were attacked by fiends, and we…left behind…our friends…and our youngest…” 
As Nashetania listened to the man’s story, her hands began trembling faintly again. Adlet put a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her quietly. “Stay calm. With your power, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.” After reassuring her, he hurried his horse, setting out at a gallop. “Nashetania! Follow me!” 
“C-coming!” 
As Adlet held his horse’s reins, he considered the situation. This was just as he had expected. The fiends were aiming to eliminate each of the Braves individually. That was why they were burning villages and attacking people in this area—to lure out the six Braves. Last time, falling for that tactic had cost one of the Braves their life. If victory were their singular focus, then the correct choice would be to ignore this and move on. But in Adlet’s mind, that “correct choice” was a load of bull. Why were they going to fight the Evil God? To protect the defenseless. 
“There they are!” shouted Adlet. 
Ten fiends were attacking a cluster of wagons. The monsters were about ten meters long and shaped like leeches. A single horn and a few tentacles grew from their head segments, and on the end of each tentacle was a very humanlike eyeball. 
While fiends were all of the same species, sharing a common ancestor, they varied infinitely in form. Some, like these, resembled leeches. Others looked like gigantic insects, still others looked like birds and beasts, and some even looked human and could speak. The only thing they shared in common was that they all had a horn somewhere on their heads. That was it. 
About a dozen soldiers and farmers with their families were under attack. Many were wounded, and a number had already succumbed. Adlet leaped from his horse and rushed the hoard of fiends. “I’ll slow them down! You finish them off, Nashetania!” he yelled as she ran behind him. In a flash, Adlet whipped an iron bottle from one of his pouches, removed the cap, and poured the contents into his mouth. 
“…!” A few of the fiends spotted Adlet. They raised their heads and spat liquid at him. 
Adlet dodged it with a forward roll. As he regained his feet again, he struck the flint in his front teeth. The iron bottle contained a specially mixed, concentrated alcohol. Flames spewed from his mouth into the fiends’ faces. The heat was low enough that most could escape unscathed by batting the flames away, but these fiends writhed in pain. It was just as he had guessed: This breed was vulnerable to heat. 
Most of Adlet’s secret tools were not powerful in and of themselves. Their true value lay in their versatility, allowing him to take advantage of the fiends’ weaknesses in a variety of circumstances. 
“I knew you were good!” exclaimed Nashetania as she employed the power of the Spirit of Blades. Blades sprouted from the ground to quickly decapitate three of the creatures. 
The remaining seven paid them no mind as they continued attacking the farmers. Adlet immediately withdrew his next tool—this one a small flute. He put it to his lips and blew. 
“…?” 
No noise. But the fiends that had been assaulting the villagers turned all at once toward Adlet. This flute emitted special sound waves that attracted fiends. 
Adlet calmly dodged the charging monsters, and Nashetania did not let that opportunity go to waste. She stabbed another five to death, and Adlet dispatched the two remaining with his sword. Now that it was over, the battle had actually elapsed very quickly. Killing all ten fiends had taken less than a minute. 
“Phew.” Adlet wasn’t tired, but he had broken a sweat. Though this wasn’t his first time, real combat still made him anxious. Nashetania was panting. Adlet put a hand on her shoulder and said, “That was perfect. I wouldn’t have known it was your first fight.” 
“I was able to fight more calmly than I had imagined. If this is how it’s going to be, I think I can be useful.” 
“I’ll be counting on you.” 
Nashetania smiled. 
After that, the two of them assisted in treating the farmers’ wounds. The villagers piled the bodies of their fellows into the carts. It was difficult, seeing these deaths, especially those of parents who left children alone in the world. 
“Is everyone here? Was anyone too late getting away?” Adlet asked as he treated one of the villagers. 
They all looked down as if struggling to respond, exchanging looks with one another. 
“What’s wrong?” he prompted. 
“Well…” The villagers seemed hesitant to speak. 
Adlet quickly picked up on what was going on. “Someone got left behind, huh.” 
“Th-there was a traveling girl all alone in the village,” one of the villagers said, and Adlet immediately mounted his horse. 
He was about to hit his horse’s flank when Nashetania, looking panicked, asked him, “Adlet, where are you going?” 
“They said a girl’s still there. I’m gonna go get her.” 
As he tried to slap his horse, Nashetania grabbed his wrist. “Wait, please. Do you plan to go alone?” 
“Yeah. You handle things here.” He snapped the reins to signal his mount to move, but this time, Nashetania grabbed its tail. “Why are you stopping me?” he demanded. 
“It’s too late, Adlet. You won’t make it in time.” 
“…” 
“There are only two of us. We cannot save everyone.” 
He was a little taken aback. Nashetania’s attitude struck him as surprisingly cold. “You’re right,” he said. 
“It’s a shame, but we should give up on that girl and move on.” Nashetania looked down sadly. She likely wanted to help out as much as he did, but she was right to prioritize defeating the Evil God. 
“Defeating the Evil God, saving people… It’s hard to manage both,” said Adlet. 
“This is difficult for me, too. But right now, let’s think first about joining the other Braves.” The princess, having secured her partner’s agreement, released his horse’s tail. 
The instant she did, Adlet whipped the reins. The horse whinnied and broke into a gallop. “Sorry, but I’m going. ’Cause I’m the strongest man in the world!” 
“Just what is that supposed to mean?!” she yelled after him. 
I’ll defeat the Evil God, and I’ll save people, too. Being able to pull off both is what makes me the strongest man in the world , Adlet silently answered to himself. 
After about half an hour of galloping, the fence that encircled the village came into view. The streets were quiet. Adlet saw no one, be it human, fiend, or animal. The village was completely desolate. Maybe the fiends had yet to come, maybe they had already finished the job and left, or maybe it was a trap. 
Adlet dismounted, drew his sword, and proceeded with caution. There was something strange lying by the entrance to the village—the corpse of a fiend that resembled a giant snake. It was big—a far more powerful specimen than the fiends he and Nashetania had killed. Adlet approached the corpse to get a better look. Some extraordinary power had smashed its head in. Closer investigation revealed an iron ball about two centimeters in diameter buried inside the wound. 
“A slingshot? No. It couldn’t be…a gun?” Adlet tilted his head. 
The gun was a weapon that had been developed about thirty years earlier—a miniaturized version of a cannon. While these devices were gradually becoming more common, they couldn’t really be called powerful. At most, they could enable a person with no armor to bring down a boar. Adlet had never heard of any gun capable of killing a fiend. 
The Brave entered the village. The bodies of fiends were strewn everywhere. Every last one had been brought down by a single shot to either the heart or the head. That was when Adlet finally realized that the female traveler who had been forsaken in the village…hadn’t been forsaken at all. She’d stayed behind to battle the fiends here. And a lone warrior on a journey at a time like this, with the Evil God freshly awakened from its slumber, could have only one purpose. Adlet searched for the girl in houses and the center square, finally approaching a charcoal maker’s hut near the fringes of the town. 
“Oh.” He spotted someone. Raising his hand, Adlet was about to call out, but he stopped midmotion, his voice catching somewhere in his throat. The moment he saw the girl, he froze. 
She was alone, walking toward the delapidated hut. She was probably about seventeen or eighteen. Her hair was white, and she wore a cloak with a frayed hem. In her arms, she cradled a puppy, affectionately stroking its neck as she walked. Adlet realized at a glance that this was the girl who had defeated the fiends, thanks to the gun peeking out from underneath a gap in her cloak. But Adlet didn’t care about that. The girl was carrying a puppy. The mundane sight left Adlet completely unable to move. 
“There you are,” she said. 
A lone dog was chained to a post in front of the hut. It was probably the mother of the one in the girl’s arms. She lowered the puppy at her breast to the ground. It leaped toward the other dog, wagging its tail and frolicking about. 
The girl pulled a knife from beneath her cloak, severing the mother’s collar and freeing her. “Fiends only attack humans. You can be at ease and live here.” 
The two dogs romped about the girl’s knees and then ran off to disappear into the forest. Adlet stood stock-still as he watched the scene. 
The girl was striking. Her face looked rather young. Her right eye was covered with a patch, and her left was a clear blue, heavy lidded, and cold. Her leather cloak obscured the leather clothes underneath that clung tightly to her body. A black cloth wound around her head. 
This girl was powerful—Adlet could tell that with a glance. She moved with precision, her bearing reminiscent of a honed blade. It told him she was a near-flawless warrior. Just approaching her would be enough to make him feel as if his heart might stop. 
But the way she’d petted that puppy confused him. Her hands had cradled the dog, comforting it. They were kind hands. It was as if she’d been teaching it what affection was. The girl stared in silence at the forest into which the two dogs had disappeared. To Adlet, the light in her eyes, her expression, seemed terribly ephemeral. She looked like a flower on the verge of wilting, a star about to sink at any moment. Like something fragile. Adlet didn’t get her. She was cold but also warm. Terrifyingly strong yet simultaneously frail. This contradictory first impression was confusing. 
“Who’s there?” The girl turned toward Adlet. 
His heart jumped. His mind went blank, and he had no idea what to say. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. It wasn’t that he was shocked by her beauty. He wasn’t moved by emotion and probably wasn’t in love. He just didn’t know what to do. All he could manage was panic. “Do you like dogs?” Adlet finally squeezed out the wrong thing to say. 
Her mouth agape, the girl stared at Adlet in astonishment. “I like dogs. I hate people, though.” 
“…Oh. I like both.” 
“Who are you?” the girl demanded as she pulled her gun from beneath her cloak, pointing it between Adlet’s eyes. He felt absolutely no sense of danger. “Have you come to kill me, too?” On the back of her left hand was the Crest of the Six Flowers. Adlet gazed vacantly at the girl’s face and her crest. “You don’t care if I shoot?” she inquired. 
Those words brought Adlet to his senses. Panicking, he raised both hands, showing her he wasn’t hostile. “Wait, don’t shoot. I’m Adlet Mayer. I’m one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, just like you.” When he displayed the symbol on the back of his hand to the girl, she eyed him suspiciously. 
“I’ve heard of you. You’re the cowardly warrior from the martial tournament in Piena. They say you’re a genuine sleazebag.” 
Adlet was flustered. “W-wait. Who said that? I’m the strongest man in the world. I am absolutely not a ‘cowardly warrior,’” Adlet stammered, attempting to calm his pounding heart. 
“You’re one of the Braves of the Six Flowers? There’s no way I’d believe that,” she scoffed. 
He could sense no kindness or transient fragility in the way she leveled the muzzle of her gun at him. The girl who stood there was a cold, cautious, natural-born warrior. Her attitude immediately dispersed Adlet’s confusion. “The rumors are wrong,” he said. “I’ll do whatever it takes to win, but I’m not a coward.” 
“…” 
“I’m Adlet, the strongest man in the world. A coward wouldn’t be capable of calling himself the strongest in the world. So don’t point your gun at me,” he said confidently. 
But the girl’s expression only showed disgust, and she gave no indication that she would lower her weapon. “Where are your allies?” 
“Nashetania is nearby. You know her, don’t you? She’s the princess of Piena and the Saint of Blades.” 
“Nashetania…I see. So she was chosen as well.” She still made no move to lower her weapon—though she should have known that Adlet wasn’t her enemy. She stared at him with jaded eyes. At the very least, it wasn’t how most people would regard a future comrade-in-arms. “Tell Nashetania and the others you are about to meet…” 
“…Tell them what?” 
“My name is Fremy Speeddraw. Saint of Gunpowder.” 
The Saint of Gunpowder. Adlet hadn’t heard the title before. It was said that the Spirits dwelled in all things, governing over the providence of all existence. But he had never heard of a Spirit or Saint of Gunpowder. What bothered him more than that, though… Why should there be any need for him to tell the others? 
“I will not be accompanying you,” she explained. “I will be fighting the Evil God on my own. I won’t interfere with your business, so don’t get involved with mine.” 
“What are you talking about?” asked Adlet. 
“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I’m saying that I’ll be operating separately from your group. Do not get involved with me in the future.” 
Adlet was dumbfounded. Wasn’t working together what made them the Braves of the Six Flowers? What could one warrior hope to accomplish alone? 
“Tell them exactly that. You can manage a basic errand, can’t you?” Fremy asked, lowering her gun, then turning and sprinting off. She was quite fast. 
“Hey, wait!” Of course, mere words had no effect. Fremy disappeared in a blink. “Damn it!” Adlet scanned the area. His horse was approaching. He drew his knife from the scabbard on his chest and carved into the horse’s saddle: Nashetania. Met another Brave. I’m following her. Don’t worry about me—head for our goal. Then he turned the horse around toward the village entrance and sent it galloping back. “Wait! Where’d you go, Fremy?!” he shouted, but there was no reply. Adlet dashed into the trees. 
Running in the forest always left traces—broken twigs, footprints on leaves. If Adlet followed those, pursuing Fremy shouldn’t prove too difficult. Adlet climbed the mountain and descended the other side, running all the while. At various points, Fremy’s footprints suddenly cut off, as if she was erasing evidence of her passage. Someone used to fleeing would run that way. 
“What is up with her?” Adlet muttered as he searched the area with his telescope. When he detected the faint moving shape of a person, he ran off in that direction. 
He considered giving up on tracking her and going back the way he had come. He was worried about leaving Nashetania behind. But Adlet kept on chasing Fremy. His intuition as a warrior instructed him. Something whispered deep in his heart, telling him he had to follow. He couldn’t just leave her alone. 
He caught sight of her back as she ran through the forest. Apparently, Adlet was gaining ground. At this rate, he could overtake her. He chased her for about another hour, then finally circled around to cut her off. “Just cut this out,” he said. 
“I can’t believe you caught up to me,” said Fremy. The two glared at each other, panting. She drew her gun and pointed it at Adlet. “I told you what you needed to know. Don’t follow me anymore.” 
“What did you say?” 
“If you keep following me, I’ll shoot.” 
Simmering anger welled up from the pit of Adlet’s stomach. After saying all that crap about him, now she was going to shoot him? “Stop screwing with me! You’re being stupid. What are you thinking? You can’t defeat the Evil God all on your own!” 
“You’re in the way. Move.” 
“And there are fiends, too. All six of us have to work together, or we’re done. Are you too stupid to understand that?” 
“I can fight alone. I can win alone. If you want proof, I can show you.” 
“Oh yeah? Just what do you plan on showing Adlet, the strongest man in the world?” 
Fremy’s fingertip touched the trigger. Adlet threw the iron box off his back and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t back down now. The two of them squared off for a while. Neither would initiate a fight now, not even Fremy. It was a test of wills until one stepped aside. 
“At the very least, tell me why,” said Adlet. “Tell the Braves why you’re going it alone.” 
“I can’t.” 
“Why not?” 
Fremy fell silent. 
“Say something,” he insisted. She didn’t respond. 
“Just so you know, I’m a stubborn guy,” Adlet continued. “I’ll follow you until I get an answer. And then once I do, I’ll follow you until you tell me to go away. The strongest man in the world is the least likely to know when to give up.” 
“You’re a character. ‘Strongest man in the world’—yeah, right,” she said. 
“Why are you going alone? Why won’t you meet up with the other Braves? You’re stuck here until you tell me.” 
Fremy ground her teeth. Her finger trembled on the trigger. Then she lowered her eyes and whispered, “If I meet them, they will most certainly kill me.” 
Adlet was stunned. What she was saying was unbelievable, but she was serious. “That’s ridiculous. We’re all Braves of the Six Flowers. Why would we kill an important ally?” 
“They won’t consider me ‘an important ally.’” 
“Why not?” 
Fremy’s visible eye abruptly went cold—and it was nothing like her earlier glaring. She had the look of someone ready to fire. “If I tell you, you’ll try to kill me, too.” 
Adlet weighed the situation. If he pressed her any harder, they’d end up trying to kill each other. 
“You can hear why, and then we can try to end each other, or you can not hear why, and we can do the same. Pick one,” she said. 
“…” 
“Or you can say nothing and withdraw.” 
Adlet returned his sword to its sheath and picked up his iron chest from the ground. 
Fremy lowered her gun, looking relieved. “I will fight the Evil God by myself. You do as you please. If possible, I would like to avoid seeing you again.” Fremy stashed her gun beneath her cloak and turned her back to him. 
Adlet agonized. Was it okay to let her go like this? He decided it wasn’t, based on nothing but instinct, and made a fierce leap at the renegade Brave. The moment she turned toward him, he threw a smoke bomb. Under cover of the smoke, he wrenched away her pack. 
“What are you doing?!” she demanded. 
“You told me to do as I please, so I did.” 
“Give me back my things.” Fremy drew her gun once more. 
Adlet clasped the pack he’d snatched from her against his chest. It most likely carried bullets and tools for gun maintenance. It looked like she also had travel rations and a map. 
“Is this some kind of joke? Or are you an idiot?” she asked. 
“I’m not an idiot, and I’m not fooling around. I’ve made up my mind. I’m gonna follow you.” 
“What?” 
“Now that that’s decided, let’s get going.” Adlet gave the frozen Fremy a backward glance and started walking. 
“Who said you could decide anything? Give me back my pack.” Fremy’s expression shifted from confusion to anger. Her finger moved to the trigger of her gun. 
“Whoa, there,” said Adlet. “If you attack me, I’ll run away—with all your stuff. Then you’ll be the one in trouble.” 
“Do you want to get shot?” 
“Or are you gonna steal it back and then run away? You should have figured out by now that you can’t outrun me, though.” 
“What the hell are you thinking?” Fremy demanded. 
Adlet pondered for a moment, and then spoke slowly, warning Fremy, “I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, but it looks like you’re in some kind of trouble. You’re heading off all by yourself to the Howling Vilelands, where the Evil God and its fiends are waiting, and you say that if you run into the other Braves, they’ll kill you. I think most people would define that as being in trouble.” 
“So?” 
“I’m not the kind of guy who can just abandon one of my own when they need me. The strongest man in the world is kind. So I’ve decided to help you out.” 
“Are you kidding me? If this is some kind of joke, you can knock it off.” 
“No complaints. Let’s get going.” Ignoring Fremy where she stood with her gun trained on him, Adlet began walking again. 
“I can’t believe it. What? What the hell? What is up with you?” Fremy seemed at her wits’ end, but ultimately, she followed him. The two strolled through the forest in silence. 
I’ve been acting on impulse here, just taking things as they come , thought Adlet. Is this really a good idea? He had abandoned Nashetania, and he would never know when Fremy might seriously try to kill him. He glanced back at her. The expression on her face was more than confused—she looked scared. Well, whatever. It’ll work out somehow. “Hey, Fremy.” He turned to her as she trudged behind him. “I don’t know your situation, but right now, I’m serious about protecting you. You’re one of the only five allies I’ve got.” 
“Shut up and walk. This is uncomfortable,” Fremy spat, averting her gaze. 
Meanwhile, Nashetania was battling fiends in the village where Adlet had met Fremy. 
“…Hungry…want…meat…drink…blood!” 
Her opponent was what looked like a gigantic wolf. The fact that it could speak human language, however imperfectly, was proof that it was particularly powerful. A small trickle of blood oozed from Nashetania’s cheek. The fiend lifted its front leg, attempting to crush her. A blade shot up from the ground, intercepting its body. “Hungry…hungry!” Though impaled, the fiend still writhed. 
Nashetania swiped away the blood on her cheek using her slim sword. She then lengthened the blade, thrusting its tip into the fiend’s mouth. 
The demon squirmed in agony, vomiting. “Can’t…eat Saint’s blood… Can’t have Saint’s blood!” Fiends ate people, but the bodies of Saints like Nashetania were deadly poison to them. 
“This was frightening at first,” Nashetania muttered, summoning blades from thin air to chop up the beast. “But I’ve gotten quite used to fighting fiends now.” She divided her victim into three, four parts, and then finally, it stopped moving. 
Once the fight was over, Nashetania surveyed the area. It was deathly still—she saw no fiends and no Adlet. Disappointed, Nashetania picked up a saddle that had fallen on the ground and read the words carved into it. 
Nashetania. Met another Brave. I’m following her. Don’t worry about me and head for our goal. 
“What’s going on?” Nashetania cocked her head. “If he’s following her, does that mean that she’s running away from him? Why would she run away? Just who is this other Brave?” She murmured to herself as she scanned the village once more to see if Adlet had left anything else behind. 
That was when a black horse galloped into the village bearing a man of large build clad in black armor. 
When she saw him, Nashetania cried out, “Goldof!” 
The man—Goldof—dismounted at Nashetania’s side and put one knee to the ground before removing his helmet and bowing his head. “Your Highness. I apologize for my belatedness. I have hastened to your side.” 
Goldof Auora. He was said to be the strongest of the knights of Piena. His face was permanently severe, and most would never guess he was younger than Nashetania. His black armor was heavy and durable, and his helmet was designed to resemble the curled horns of a goat. He carried a large iron spear in his right hand, connected to his wrist by a sturdy chain. His imposing appearance suggested he was a veteran of many battles, but something in his expression bespoke a lingering immaturity. 
“So you did come after all. I knew you’d be chosen.” Nashetania greeted him kindly. 
“It is an honor.” 
“I’m grateful the Spirit of Fate chose you. I have nothing to be afraid of with you by my side.” Nashetania spoke with dignity, but there was something awkward about her tone. It lacked the casual ease with which she’d chatted with Adlet. 
“I will protect you with my life, Your Highness,” pledged Goldof. “It is my intention to slay the Evil God and escort you safely back to the king.” 
That statement elicited a bit of a frown. “Goldof.” 
“Yes, Your Highness?” 
“From now on, we are equals. Comrades-in-arms. You won’t simply be protecting me; we will protect each other.” 
“But Your Highness…,” he protested. “You are a distinguished individual. I cannot allow the worst to happen to you.” 
“…I see. I understand. Fine.” Nashetania gave him a small nod. “In any case, we have a problem. A fellow Brave who was with me until just a while ago disappeared somewhere.” Nashetania showed him the saddle. 
Goldof read the text and tilted his head. “I don’t understand.” 
“Neither do I.” 
“Who was this companion of yours who wrote it?” he asked. 
“Adlet Mayer. You know him, don’t you?” 
When Goldof heard that name, his expression changed. He must also have heard what had happened during the holy tournament. 
“Don’t give me that look,” said Nashetania. “He’s a reliable man.” 
“Even though he abandoned you to go who knows where?” Goldof’s eyes were sharp, as if he was wary of the absent Adlet. 
“That’s why we’re going to look for him now. I wonder which way he went,” she mulled. 
Goldof reexamined the writing on the saddle. His expression said he was not only thinking about where Adlet had gone but considering the matter further. “He must have started toward the Howling Vilelands already. If we continue on, I believe we will encounter him.” 
“Perhaps that’s our only option, but I am worried. I hope he’s all right,” said Nashetania. Goldof did not reply, simply offering up the horse upon which he had arrived. Nashetania refused, saddling and mounting the horse Adlet had been riding. As they galloped down the road out of town, she said, “Goldof. Adlet is a good person. He’s quite odd, and I’m sure you’ll find him confusing at first, but I think once you talk together a bit, you can be friends.” 
“Yes, Your Highness.” 
“It’s a big world out here. I think it’s a good thing I came out on this journey. I never would have met as curious a person as Adlet if I had stayed at the palace.” 
“Is that so?” 
“And also…he’s so much fun to tease,” added Nashetania, sticking out her tongue with a grin. 
But Goldof seemed to have mixed feelings. He angled his face downward so as to hide his expression. “Pardon me, Princess, but…” 
“What is it?” 
“About this Adlet, do you, um…” He started saying something, then faltered. Still looking down, he fell into a long silence. 
“What’s wrong? I don’t really know what you’re implying. Perhaps you have changed, too, during the time we’ve been apart.” 
“Perhaps that is so. I apologize. Please forget about it,” he said. 
Nashetania cocked her head, then clapped her hands together and cried, “Oh yes. What about that killer who’s been going after Braves? Have you found any leads?” 
Goldof shook his head as he rode. “I am ashamed to say that, as of yet, I have failed to dispose of the killer. But I do know her name, appearance, and abilities.” 
“So you do have a lead. And this information is trustworthy?” 
“Yes, Your Highness. I obtained this report from someone I believe to be trustworthy who personally fought the killer,” he said. 
“So who is this assassin?” asked Nashetania. 
Goldof’s voice grew tense. “The Saint of Gunpowder—a silver-haired girl who wields a gun. Her name is Fremy.”