Chapter 41

To say that people held Cody Luzial in high regard would be an overstatement, even by the most generous of standards. On paper, his title was impressive enough; serving as a platoon leader in the Knight Order at such a young age made it seem as though he were cruising down the fast track of the elite.

In practice, however, his attitude toward duty was anything but diligent. Coupled with a naturally blunt personality, he had earned his fair share of detractors among his colleagues.

The reason someone like him could be considered best friends with Vice Commander Vincent—a man showered with praise from every corner of the kingdom—was rooted in their shared past.

They had been born and raised in the same rural town. They were childhood friends in the truest sense of the word.

Both had been born into unremarkable families, spending their early years living freely in a town surrounded by nature.

That peace was shattered when they were seven years old.

Without warning, the town was attacked by mercenary-turned-bandits. Food and valuables were looted; many were murdered, and many more were kidnapped.

The tragedy didn't end there. A horde of monsters swarmed through the defensive walls that had been breached during the bandits' assault, likely lured by the scent of blood and the stores of food.

With the town’s defenses already crippled, there was no way to stop the invasion.

What remained of the town after the double onslaught of bandits and monsters was the thick stench of blood, the screams of the dying, and red flames roaring in every direction. It was a literal hellscape.

Cody and Vincent survived by sheer luck, but they had lost their families, and the town had been so thoroughly destroyed that it could no longer function.

All they had left was the crushing sense of loss. As orphans, they could do nothing but wallow in their grief.

However, a life of grief would eventually lead to dying like a dog in a ditch. To the Cody of that time, that had actually been a viable option. He had considered simply dying so he could be with his family again.

The only thing that stopped him and gave him the resolve to live was the boy standing beside him: Vincent. He was Cody's only friend—a timid, crybaby of a boy who used to hide behind Cody’s back at the slightest provocation.

Cody wanted Vincent to live, even if he himself didn't.

But he knew that if he died, this boy—the very picture of a weakling—wouldn’t last long on his own.

Of course, even with Cody there, they were still just children. Their odds of survival were slim at best.

Even so, he couldn't choose death if it meant abandoning Vincent.

And so, he had asked him:

"Things are so hopeless that it would probably be easier to just die, but what do you want to do? Do you want to end it all now, or do you want to keep living?"

"...I want to live. Dying... is scary!"

That was Vincent's answer. Even in the depths of that despair, he was afraid of death.

To be honest, Cody couldn't quite wrap his head around that feeling. To him, death seemed like the simplest way to escape the hopelessness towering over them.

But he also felt that it was okay for Vincent to feel that way. Because Vincent was a pathetic coward, he understood the perspective of the weak; he was a boy who knew what pain felt like.

Looking back, Cody realized that the desire to live even in that situation might have been Vincent's true strength. Without it, both of them would have surrendered to death then and there.

And so, Cody and Vincent joined hands and stood up. But this was no heartwarming tale of resilience.

They were two children with no one to rely on and no protection. They did anything and everything to survive.

In their hometown, which had been a vibrant community only days before, they scavenged from corpses. When their food ran out, they raided farmers' fields. They turned to theft to get money. In the slums where they eventually sought refuge, they killed people—even if it was only in self-defense.

To Cody, killing a person didn't feel much different from slaughtering a monster that attacked them.

They spent those bleak days running desperately just to stay ahead of death. By the time they were ten, they had begun to play at being mercenaries, proactively seeking out battlefields and monster extermination jobs.

By the time they were capable of such things, Cody—and even the cowardly Vincent—had grown strong. Perhaps "completely changed" was a more accurate description.

Vincent, in particular, seemed to possess a natural talent for the sword. Every time he survived a battle, his skill improved by leaps and bounds.

They spent their lives day-to-day, fulfilling nothing, simply wasting their energy to survive until the next sunrise. It was a wretched existence.

Before he knew it, Vincent had stopped both crying and laughing. This wasn't the life Cody had wanted for his best friend.

Maybe it would have been better if we had died back then. By that time, Cody had started to think that way.

About three years after they began working as mercenaries, Cody suffered a grievous wound on the battlefield due to a lapse in concentration. It wasn't an instant kill, but it was an injury that made it impossible to keep fighting.

But logic like that didn't matter in the heat of war. Seeing an opening, an opponent raised his sword for the killing blow.

At that moment, Cody lacked both the strength and the will to dodge.

With hollow eyes, he simply waited for the blade to descend and tear his life away. But an instant before the sword reached his head, two flashes of steel crossed his vision.

The first stroke severed the opponent’s arms; the second cut through his torso before the man could even scream.

As Cody was drenched from the head down in the blood spraying from the corpse, Vincent looked back. For some reason, his blood-stained friend looked like a completely different person.

Without a word, Vincent lent Cody his shoulder and retreated from the front lines to a safe zone. Only then did he finally speak.

"Are you all right, Cody?"

"Well, mostly... but that’s the first time you’ve ever had to protect me."

"...Now that you mention it, I suppose it is. Surprisingly, it isn't so bad."

"Huh? What isn't?"

"Protecting a friend."

"..."

"Even with hands as filthy and blood-stained as mine... I can still protect someone."

As he spoke, Vincent clenched his fist. Cody couldn't tell if the emotion behind the gesture was joy or regret.

Even so, the thought crossed his mind that protecting others might become the signpost Vincent needed to guide his life.

"Then why don't you try doing it for real?"

"Eh?"

It was the first time in a long while that Cody had seen Vincent make such a stupid face.

It was so absurdly funny that he had to fight back a burst of laughter as he made his pitch.

"If you join the Knight Order, you can protect more than just me. You could protect hundreds, maybe thousands of people."

"But vagrants like us could never get into the Knight Order..."

"That’s a fair point, but compared to the hell we’ve gone through to survive this long, getting in should be a walk in the park."

"Cody..."

"Besides, Vincent, you’re already stronger than me. To be blunt, you’re so strong it’s actually a little creepy."

"C-Creepy...?"

"Forget that part. The point is, if you're as strong as you are, your birth and upbringing shouldn't matter. Probably."

"..."

"Make a choice, Vincent. Do you want to keep living like this, or do you want to set your sights on the Knight Order?"

"...This feels just like that time."

"That time" referred to the moment they chose between life and death in the ruins of their hometown.

Looking back, six years had already passed since then.

"Cody, I want to change things. I want to change this world where the weak are trampled by the strong."

"Change the world, huh? You're certainly dreaming big."

"Yes. It's impossible for me alone. Without your help, it’s nothing but a pipe dream."

"The Knight Order really isn't my style, you know? I’m not cut out for leading people, and more than anything, I’m lazy."

"I don't care. I want to aim for it with you. A world where children like us no longer have to exist."

"...That sounds like it’ll be a massive pain in the ass."

"Then you don't have to answer right now. First, we have to finish this battle."

After delivering Cody to the relief workers, Vincent immediately headed back to the front.

Watching his retreating figure, Cody chewed over the dream his usually taciturn friend had just shared. Vincent had asked him to come along, but with his skill, Vincent was already strong enough to make it on his own.

But that wasn't what he meant.

Because Vincent had said "changing the world" with such a deadly serious expression, the memory made laughter well up in Cody even now.

Every chuckle sent a jolt of pain through his wound, but he couldn't stop.

"I guess if I'm with him, this shitty life might turn out to be worth something..."

That murmur, leaked to no one in particular, and the sight of Vincent's back as he returned to the fight remained seared into Cody’s mind, never losing its color.

◇

(I wouldn't admit it even if my life depended on it, but Harold-kun’s silhouette looked exactly like his.)

That was why Cody was standing before Harold now.

He had no evidence for it—it was nothing more than pure intuition—but he felt it nonetheless. He saw a trace of Vincent in Harold.

He saw a boy who might be able to carry on that nonsensical pipe dream.

God, I really am the worst. No matter how many fine words he used to justify it, he wasn't considering Harold's feelings at all. He was simply trying to save him unilaterally.

Worrying on his own, placing his expectations on the kid on his own.

To want to entrust his and his best friend's dream to Harold’s shoulders was incredibly selfish. He couldn't complain even if the kid punched him right in the face.

Their blades met with a high-pitched metallic clang.

Cody had wanted to see Harold's true strength eventually, but facing it head-on, it exceeded his expectations. The sharpness of his slashes, his speed, and the sheer variety of his magic—Harold was completely superior to Cody at the same age.

Even in the heat of combat, Harold used somersaults to dodge and launched kicks from handstands. His movements were chaotic, yet they had been refined into a legitimate combat art.

It was a fighting style where you never knew what was coming next. It was an absolute nightmare to deal with.

Still, Cody couldn't afford to be knocked out this early.

As they exchanged high-speed blows, Cody called out to him.

"This is a bit sudden, Harold-kun, but do you have a dream for the future?"

Cody knew he was being completely random.

However, Harold didn't seem particularly rattled by the question.

"I live for myself. That is all."

A concise answer. He lived for himself.

It was the exact opposite of Vincent, who had chosen the path of protecting others.

And yet, for some reason, he felt the two were remarkably similar.

"Another question, then. Do you have any best friends? Comrades?"

"Such things are unnecessary!"

Cody retreated to dodge a mid-level kick launched during their blade lock.

Neither side could land a decisive blow. He likely wouldn't win unless he went all out, even if it meant risking an injury to the boy.

"Then take some advice from your elder. If there's something you want to achieve, find someone you can trust with your back. They'll be your support when things get tough."

"That is the logic of the weak!"

Cody didn't deny it. Humans were weak creatures to begin with. That was why they gathered in groups and sought connections.

It was okay for humans to be that way. It was okay to be weak.

Because they were weak, they could support each other, be supported, and grow stronger through those bonds.

But Harold had discarded all of that. He was trying to become strong alone, trusting no one but himself.

He was far too lonely. Cody couldn't imagine how much of a "normal" life Harold had sacrificed to attain this level of strength.

Harold had walked a path of thorns different from his or Vincent's. Perhaps he was still only halfway through it.

Cody didn't know what Harold was trying to achieve, but he knew the boy wouldn't stop. Not until his life was spent.

Even if their circumstances were different, and even if their goals were polar opposites...

The way Harold looked as he resisted the world overlapped uncontrollably with the way Vincent looked when he vowed to change it.

In that case, Cody had to help him.

"A world where children like us no longer have to exist."

That was the oath Cody and Vincent had sworn that day, and he intended to keep it.