“Well now? Look at you, coming out to watch as well.”
“Indeed. And thank you for your cooperation during the judgment the other day, Lord Fyuji.”
From the corner of a passage leading to the training ground, two figures watched Wolka and Ramsey confront each other, hidden from the public eye. One was Roschehart, out today in his usual low-ranking knight’s attire, and the other was Fyuji, as listless and evasive as ever.
From their position, Wolka was clearly visible, yet they remained hidden from the gallery gathered at the arena. The two stood in the shadows at a perfect vantage point, suppressing their presence so completely that not even a ripple of their aura leaked out.
“Why not get a closer look? I assume your Perception Inhibition is working properly.”
“Without fail. However, a knight’s silhouette is still somewhat conspicuous even with magic. I am content watching from here.”
“If you say so.”
Rosche had first heard of the commotion yesterday. After finishing his guard duty for the Saintess at the tribunal, he had been out in the Holy Court District enjoying dinner with some ladies. “Did you hear, my dear?” “Oh my, how scandalous.” The neighborhood network of madams, well-versed in every scrap of gossip in the city, always provided Rosche with the most interesting news.
According to them, a young adventurer with a prosthetic leg had gotten into a scuffle with a drunkard, and they were set to settle it at the guild at noon today.
Consequently, having received an imperial command—or rather, a desperate, tearful plea—from Anze, who was unable to leave her duties at the Cathedral, Rosche had come to keep a clandestine eye on things.
Fyuji seemed to have guessed the circumstances, as he didn't bother to press the issue of Rosche’s presence. Both men turned their attention back to the training ground.
“Man... still, Wolka-kun is really something, isn't he?”
“Yes. He is truly peerless.”
They both broke into small smiles simultaneously.
An extraordinary, flawless aura swirled around Wolka as he faced the man named Ramsey. It wasn't just Rosche; everyone gathered in the training ground felt a chill run down their skin, left overwhelmed and speechless by the sheer pressure.
It was, unmistakably, the State of No-mind.
It was the spiritual pinnacle of martial arts, the ultimate state that anyone dedicating their life to the sword would spend their entire existence pursuing.
Rosche couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling upward. An indescribable sense of rapture filled every corner of his heart. This was the realm reached by the man who had forced open the "door" at the brink of death and destroyed even a reaper. To stand here and witness it so clearly—he could find no word for it other than "bliss."
“Lord Fyuji, the Projection Magic here...”
“It's running, of course.”
During duels, a barrier was erected around the training ground to prevent stray attacks from hitting the crowd. In the Holy City Guild, that barrier also incorporated a "Projection Magic" formula. Essentially, the duel's progress could be recorded as a magical image to ensure there were no issues if someone later claimed foul play. Since it involved an extremely high-level formula, the Adventurer's Guild only possessed this technology in two locations: here and the Royal Capital.
Rosche’s smile deepened.
“Then, when the duel is over, could you copy the footage onto a Magic Stone for me?”
“Eh? Copying is a lot of work and a real pain, you know...”
“It is a command from Lady Anjesheit and Lady Restardia.”
“Ugh...”
Anze was likely so worried right now that she couldn't focus on her duties as a Saintess and was probably being scolded by Dia. If he brought back a copy, she would surely be overjoyed and play it every time she found a spare moment.
And once her feelings became uncontrollable, Anze would surely go around showing the recording to everyone. Not just Dia, but also Yulirius, the Saint of Star Eyes, Arcasiel, the Saint of Fortune and Woe—and even the other two Holy Knights.
Fyuji scratched his head.
“...In other words, you don't have the slightest doubt about Wolka-kun winning.”
Rosche replied instantly, without a second's hesitation.
“Naturally. It is merely a question of how he wins.”
“Hahaha, that’s some heavy trust right there.”
Just then, Ramsey let out a powerful roar in the center of the arena.
“Try to suppress me, then! To the point where I can't say a damn word! To the point where I can't help but be mesmerized! If you're all talk, I'll blow you away!”
In the silent training ground, Wolka and Ramsey applied Heartless to their weapons. It was a convenient spell used daily by many knights and adventurers during training, converting physical impact into magical shock to eliminate lethality.
The atmosphere of the training ground, which already seemed to swallow the audience, grew sharply tense, making them hesitate to even breathe. Since duels held under guild certification required the use of Heartless, there was almost no danger of sustaining serious injuries.
And yet, the swirling fighting spirit was exactly like that of two warriors crossing blades for their lives on a battlefield.
“—Ah!”
From somewhere in the audience, a girl’s small, stifled scream was heard. It was followed by the hard, dry sound of a rod-like object hitting the floor. Perhaps one of the mages, overwhelmed by Wolka's battle aura, had let their hand slip and dropped their staff.
That served as the signal to light the fuse, and a gale erupted across the training ground.
Ramsey instantaneously exploded his Strength and charged in a direct line with blunt honesty. It was a head-on charge with no maneuvering—perhaps he disliked trickery because it was a formal duel, or perhaps he underestimated Wolka, thinking this was enough for a man missing a leg. Either way, Wolka's response was as fast and accurate as pure flowing water.
Ramsey’s sword, swung with vertical force, slipped right past Wolka’s body.
“Oh.”
Fyuji’s short exclamation was one of admiration. Of course, the blade hadn't actually passed through him. Wolka had parried Ramsey’s sword backward so smoothly that it created the momentary illusion of the blade ghosting through him.
Against Ramsey’s downward swing, Wolka held his sword at a shallow angle, letting the opponent's steel slide along his own blade and pass by at the closest possible distance. To Ramsey himself, it likely felt as if he had hit nothing at all, as if he had truly swung through a phantom.
“...!?”
Pulled by the momentum of the downward strike that hit only air, Ramsey’s body lurched forward. However, his recovery was extremely quick and precise. He swung back instantly as he turned, narrowly parrying Wolka’s sword, which was already closing in for a counter.
Ramsey took some distance to reset his stance. He clicked his tongue with a fearless smirk.
“Tch... is that a technique a seventeen-year-old brat can actually pull off?”
A small stir rose from the audience. Holding the sword at the optimal angle against an attack and parrying while utilizing the opponent's own momentum—expressed in words, it sounded like a relatively simple principle.
“Does Wolka-kun not have a sense of fear...?”
“Ordinary people wouldn't even dream of trying to imitate that.”
After all, he was letting the opponent's blade pass so closely it practically grazed his skin. If he misjudged the intensity or timing of the force even slightly, he would take the full brunt of the hit. It was a feat that could only be achieved through preternatural skill and a mind in a state of no-mind, free from all hesitation.
However, there was no surprise in Rosche's heart. Rather, he felt it was only natural for Wolka to pull that off—after all, this was the man who could fight to a draw with a Holy Knight using a single sword.
“I won't fall for the same trick twice!”
Ramsey stepped in again. True to his word, this time Ramsey’s stance didn't break even when his sword was parried, and he delivered one sharp continuous attack after another. At first glance, it might have seemed like he was just swinging haphazardly, but Rosche could tell it wasn't self-taught swordsmanship.
The combination of the continuous attacks resembled the sword styles widely studied in the kingdom. Those were the strokes of someone who had once properly mastered the path of the blade.
He asked Fyuji.
“How much have you investigated regarding that man, Ramsey?”
“Hm? No, no, there are plenty of things an old man like me doesn't know.”
“Don't be modest.”
There was no one eavesdropping nearby, so Rosche spoke bluntly to the feigning investigator.
“To you, a Special Investigator of the Chryscles Holy Church, there is nothing in the Holy City that you cannot uncover.”
“...You overestimate me.”
Special Investigator—someone who belonged to the Chryscles Holy Church but was neither a clergyman nor a knight. They were agents who lurked among the civilians, following the Church's orders. In times of emergency, they were given commanding authority equal to a knight captain, carrying out investigations or information gathering without being bound by the Church's typical bureaucracy.
There were currently six Special Investigators in the Holy City: one was a lazy employee of the Adventurer's Guild, one was a major merchant, one was a trade official, and one was even the master of a hidden tavern. They had all integrated into the daily life of the Holy City under temporary guises. They were the most mysterious and unfathomable group within the Church.
To be honest, even Rosche, a Holy Knight, did not know the details of their inner workings.
Was the man known as "Fyuji," ridiculed as the greatest slacker in the guild, truly existing right in front of Rosche, or was he nothing more than a carefully crafted persona designed to blend into the city?
“Well, I’m a guild member, so I’ve checked the basics. Apparently—”
“Ora ora, what’s wrong? Are you too busy just defending?!”
Just as Fyuji started to say that, Ramsey’s provocation rang out across the training ground. Ramsey’s continuous attacks grew even more ferocious, but Wolka parried every single one without a hint of disorder while backing away one step at a time. It was as if it were a choreographed dance with a predetermined flow.
He had completely read Ramsey’s sword.
“Tch, annoying...!”
Ramsey grew impatient and launched a vertical strike from a high position with forced strength.
But that didn't change anything. A common adventurer wouldn't have had the time to notice that the strike was slightly over-extended, nor that the sword path was consequently a fraction off-balance. But before Wolka, who possessed extraordinary skill derived from Quick-draw Techniques, that momentary flaw was a fatal opening.
A high-pitched metallic ring echoed as sword struck sword.
“—!?”
Ramsey’s blade suddenly leaped upward. Against the flawed sword stroke, Wolka had delivered a God-speed upward slash, striking the base of the opponent’s blade with absolute precision.
Ramsey’s body, his swing killed at the start, was left wide open, and in that same instant, Wolka was already in a quick-draw stance within the man's reach.
“...!”
A chill ran down Rosche’s skin. Even for Wolka, that movement was uncanny—to already be in a quick-draw stance the moment he finished the upward slash. With speed that neither an ordinary person's eyes nor thoughts could follow, Wolka had reversed offense and defense with incredible ease.
A flash.
Of course, it was a restrained draw, so as not to shatter his prosthetic leg. It was one that even an ordinary person could just barely react to. In fact, Ramsey’s reaction was barely in time, as he tried to catch the horizontal flash of the blade with the flat of his sword.
A violent metallic impact shook the training ground, and Ramsey’s body was blown back.
“Gua...!”
Ramsey narrowly held his ground, though his stance was heavily broken. Even so, the grown man couldn't maintain his footing and only managed to stop after sliding nearly half the distance of the arena.
The murmur of the audience grew even louder. At this point, even from Rosche’s position, several voices of surprise and confusion could be heard.
“Hey, is that guy really disabled?”
“H-He’s too fast to follow. I’d heard rumors, but...”
“I mean, that upward slash was impossible. How can he strike at that timing? Is his sense of fear broken?”
On one side was a healthy veteran adventurer; on the other, a man who had lost an eye and a leg. Many had likely thought this wouldn't be a contest at all.
(Ah, yes... that is exactly who you are.)
Indeed, normally such a duel shouldn't even be possible. The fact that Wolka could fight Ramsey so respectably was entirely due to the immense amount of training he had accumulated. His figure, throwing himself into soul-crushing training after being nearly killed by a reaper, burdened with the heavy shackles of losing an eye and a leg, yet still trying to carve out his own path with his own sword—that was the very essence of the man.
It was Wolka's way of life—and it was what wouldn't stop shaking the heart of Rosche, the former "Sword Prodigy."
“Ha! Looks like you can hold your own if it’s just crossing blades!”
“Yeah.”
“Then, how about this?!”
He must have already felt the difference in skill, but Ramsey showed no sign of flinching. He reset his sword and stepped forward again. At first, it looked like a repetition of the same continuous attacks as before.
—Until he suddenly made the sword’s trajectory plunge, attacking Wolka’s prosthetic leg.
“...!”
Wolka quickly pulled back his prosthetic leg to dodge. However, the sudden reaction backfired, and his center of gravity momentarily wavered. Predicting that, Ramsey immediately swung back with a flash.
“Sha!”
Of course, although he was caught off guard, Wolka’s body control had room to spare. He successfully warded off the attack targeting the prosthetic.
But for the first time, Wolka "received" Ramsey’s sword rather than parrying it. Ramsey’s mouth twisted into a smirk.
“You won't call it cowardly, will you? When you’re leaving a weakness exposed so obviously, it’s only natural to target it!”
“Y-You drunken idiot old geezer! Do you not know the words 'fair and square'?! You dummy, idiot, coward!”
Shannon's fierce protest immediately flew from the audience, followed by harsh heckling from the younger adventurers. While striking an opponent's weakness was a tactic, it was an attack that raised questions about whether it was appropriate for a formal duel. At the very least, Rosche would never do such a thing.
Fyuji narrowed his eyes in exasperation.
“Ah, that idiot, doing things like that...”
“He’s quite a daredevil. If it were me, I’d be far too terrified of the retaliation from Lady Liesel and the others.”
The fact that the three furious girls hadn't charged in and turned Ramsey into a floor rag suggested that their patience was barely holding.
“Oh, I thought you’d be a bit angry.”
“Of course, I wouldn't stay quiet if he were a person unworthy of being an adventurer.”
A sword is a mirror that reflects the user's heart. No matter how much one polishes their skill, the sword of a person living with a wicked heart will appear ugly and distorted.
In that regard, as far as Ramsey’s sword strokes were concerned, Rosche's impression was that at least it wasn't a filthy sword. Even considering the words he had asked Wolka before the duel, it seemed this man hadn't challenged Wolka out of pure malice.
“Next is this!”
Ramsey kicked off the ground and began changing the distance. Even though he had been fighting bravely from the front until now, he began moving to take the left side—the blind spot of Wolka’s lost right eye.
Of course, Wolka reacted quickly, but—
“There!”
“!?”
The moment he turned, something flew at Wolka’s face. Sand. Ramsey had hidden sand in his jacket pocket.
Even Wolka probably couldn't have predicted that sand would be thrown in a duel.
Wolka’s left eye was incapacitated. His vision stolen, he was thrown into darkness.
“Losing one eye means this! If someone circles into your blind spot like this and throws sand, it’s over! You’ve got no choice but to be taken down!”
Wolka’s stance broke, his prosthetic leg slipped, and he fell to one knee.
Without missing that opening, Ramsey swung his sword in a merciless horizontal sweep.
A scream echoed. Was it Shannon, Liesel, or perhaps Yulitia or Atri?
Ramsey never realized until the end that even as his stance was broken, Wolka's body had taken a quick-draw position. No, even if he had noticed, he likely would have tried to swing his sword down just the same.
Ramsey’s sword flew into the air.
“—,”
At that moment, Ramsey likely didn't understand at all why the sword had suddenly vanished from his hand.
And in that fraction of a second, multiple sword flashes had carved through him.
“Ga—”
The sound of the atmosphere vibrating echoed. Pierced by the impact of magical power converted by the Heartless, Ramsey was blown away and rolled across the ground, finally stopping near the edge of the arena.
The training ground fell into a profound silence.
“—Hehe. Hehehehe...”
“...Hey, Rosche-kun? Your laugh is getting creepy.”
Rosche covered his mouth.
“My apologies. ...I just happened to witness such a beautiful technique, I couldn't help myself.”
Ah, truly, how far did this man intend to shake Rosche's heart?
The reason Ramsey's sword had suddenly flown into the air was simple yet impossible. Utilizing the property of Heartless where lethality is suppressed, Wolka had struck through the gap in Ramsey’s fingers holding the sword. He had accurately blown away only the weapon—with a flash like light, in the darkness where his vision had been stolen.
This was something even Rosche couldn't imitate.
(Really, you truly are...)
Therefore, Rosche was convinced once again from the bottom of his heart. It wasn't the fact that he was gifted with such talent to be hailed as a "Sword Prodigy," nor was it his appointment as the youngest Holy Knight in history.
The light that colored Rosche’s life most strongly was, without a doubt, this man.
“Ugh, sand got in my mouth...”
And the person to whom such heavy friendship was directed was currently brushing sand off his face with a grimace.
“You bastard, you shouldn't have been able to see...!”
“Yeah. I was lucky.”
Ramsey, who had been blown away, put strength into his trembling arms, struggling to get back up. Having finished brushing off the sand, Wolka looked at the man, neither boasting nor acting proud, but simply saying quietly,
“Do you still want to go?”
“—”
The winner of a duel is decided when one side admits defeat or becomes unable to continue the fight. As far as Rosche could see, even without bias, Ramsey’s loss was clear. Although the lethality was suppressed by Heartless, the fact that he was struggling just to stand meant he must have taken considerable damage.
“—Yeah, not yet.”
However, Ramsey still wouldn't admit defeat. He lifted his uncooperative body with only the strength of his arms and got to his knees.
“With just this much, I still can't understand a damn thing!”
He stood up while staggering. A fierce smile appeared on his face.
“I told you, didn't I? Try to suppress me to the point where I can't say a word! I can still talk back, don't arrogantly hold back your full power!”
The cheap provocation seemed as if he were wishing to be struck down by Wolka just like this.
“...Continuing from what I said earlier.”
Fyuji scratched his head and began to speak as if reciting from memory.
“This is a story from more than ten years ago. There was a certain adventurer party in the Holy City. They were promising youngsters who climbed to A-rank at quite a speed... a party just like Wolka-kun and his group.”
Rosche said nothing, keeping his eyes forward while listening to Fyuji’s words.
“But one day, they were unlucky enough to be attacked by a demon, and the party was wiped out. There was only one survivor, and he also suffered a major injury, losing a leg.”
“...”
“It seems he tried to get revenge for his companions. But in the end, he was killed by a monster that should have been nothing to him if not for the injury—”
He cut off his words there, sighed, and said,
“It’s a disgusting story like that. ...Ramsey was an old friend of his.”
What Ramsey was doing was certainly not right.
Ramsey must have known that too.
But humans aren't clever enough creatures to live their lives purely by rational logic. Behind the worn-out thought that injured people should just quietly step down, there was also a part of him that wished for his current self, who could only deny the path his friend once tried to take, to be thoroughly crushed.
That was why Ramsey was trying to stand before Wolka until the end.
Rosche gave a wry smile. Only about four days had passed since he returned to the Holy City; why was that man being obsessed over by someone with such twisted, troublesome feelings? He could only think that Wolka was born under such a star.
“I’m continuing!”
Ramsey roared. Without picking up his fallen sword and without bringing out a new weapon, he began constructing an attack magic formula with released magical power. A large magic circle floated behind Ramsey, beginning to glow with a purple light.
“Next is magic! There’s no guarantee the enemy will always fight within your reach! With that leg that can barely move, how are you going to fight an opponent who won't get close?!”
“...”
In response, Wolka was silent for a moment.
Then, he laughed softly.
He laughed and said,
“—Man, you really are twisted.”
“Man, you really are twisted.”
“Are you looking for a fight, you bastard?!”
He got angry when I pointed out the truth. That's exactly what I mean.
No, but it's true, isn't it? After crossing blades this far, I could tell you also have your own thoughts on the matter. But this is just me being a collateral victim, right? Your method is way too roundabout; couldn't you have done it a bit better?
...Just kidding. I wasn't really that offended. Rather, it felt like something stuck in my chest had finally cleared away.
I’m pretty weak to this kind of "thought he was a jerk but actually isn't" pattern. Because I’m a "Happy End" extremist, I feel relieved thinking, "Ah, so there really weren't any bad guys." In both my previous life and this one, it’s best if there are no villains.
I spoke up.
“Actually, I think it's exactly as you said.”
“Ah?”
Ramsey’s magic construction stopped. I continued.
“You said it, right? That I'm someone who has no choice but to cling to the sword. That's right. I only have the sword. I'm bad at socializing, I'm not smart, and even with magic, my mana amount is just slightly above average. I also think about what would be left of me if the sword were taken away.”
In the end, I suppose I am clinging to the sword. In this world, it’s the only power I have left to protect someone. If I lose it, I really won't be able to do anything. It’s not a lie that I like the sword, but behind that, there’s certainly the feeling of struggling, refusing to be broken.
Meeting the girl named Ruerie made me realize that from the bottom of my heart.
“If the sword were gone, I wouldn't even know how to live.”
Perhaps because I could understand Ramsey’s heart a little through the duel, I was in a mood to spill some of my true thoughts.
“You probably understand... in this world, there are no gods who will help you when you’re in trouble. You have to move your own legs. If you don't, you can't protect anything.”
“...”
After all, the protagonist of the original work was like that.
“The only reason not to give up is that... ah, so, that is, well.”
However, I immediately felt embarrassed, so I stopped. Yeah, I’m really bad at talking about my true feelings. If Master or the others heard this, it would probably lead to another misunderstanding, so that's enough of that.
I took a stance. My right side forward, sword settled on my left hip—in the quick-draw position.
“—I'll show you it’s not just talk. Come.”
“...Ha.”
Laughing with a breath, Ramsey resumed constructing the formula. Lightning attribute attack magic. I could see the purple lightning gathering above Ramsey’s head, forming into the shape of a spear.
I was impressed by his skillful work. Magic in this world is a type of academic discipline, and its proficiency is largely influenced by one's intelligence. Was this guy actually the type who was good at studying? Sorry, Master, I might have lost in terms of magical skill.
“Then suppress me! If you do that, no one will have a complaint!”
“Yeah—”
At any rate, my chest felt clear. Without me even having to think about it, my sword and consciousness merged within a sensation like calm breathing.
The sword's perspective—yeah, let's call it the Sword Domain.
A world where only two things exist: white that can be slashed, and black that cannot. It was the first time I’d entered the Sword Domain in actual combat. Ramsey was "white," but I wouldn't do something boring like slashing him from here before the magic activated. I would crush it head-on. My sword was showing me clearly within my consciousness that it was not impossible.
“Blixt!”
Ramsey’s magic activated. A spear of lightning larger than my height, along with countless small lightning strikes branching from it. Normally, it wasn't a level that an injured person with one eye and one leg could intercept without magic. In the first place, magic was fundamentally dealt with by magic, and I, who was trying to do something about it with a single sword, was fundamentally wrong.
“Wolkaaaa!”
Master was shouting my name.
Surely, I was making her look like she was about to cry again. Yulitia and Atri too—but that was exactly why I...
In this world where there are no gods, with this body that has lost an eye and a leg, I have been given a reason to keep struggling without breaking.
White.
To describe what happened at that moment as it was, it would be telling a story a bit like a troubadour's: "Silver lightning slashed through purple lightning."
Every person gathered at the training ground undoubtedly saw it.
Everyone felt a white world for a mere moment, devoid of any noise or movement. The instant Ramsey's Blixt was released, what they heard was not the crashing thunder, but only the small sound of the sword guard clinking as Wolka sheathed his blade.
The serenity shattered.
By the time color returned to the crowd's vision, the silver lightning had cut through the purple bolt multiple times.
And the silver lightning crossed the space, reaching Ramsey and slicing the magic circle deployed behind him in two.
The magic circle, the formula itself.
A formula is originally something interfered with by magical power and is not something that can be cut physically. Or so it should be.
He had cut something that shouldn't be physically cut—how many people in this place were actually able to understand that?
“—K, kuhahaha... man, what the hell is that.”
Ramsey, who had collapsed on the ground, was laughing with his mouth wide open as if he’d seen something truly ridiculous. The scattered, broken lightning became faint remnants of mana, melting into the void while leaving stardust-like sparkles behind. When I emerged from the Sword Domain, which had been almost entirely white, the training ground appeared a little brighter and more vivid than before.
Phew, that worked.
I wasn't surprised by my own technique. I had an absolute conviction that it could be slashed. So, I slashed it exactly as intended.
To convert the future where I had slashed it, which was in my head, into reality.
Yeah, that's right... I remembered perfectly; this was the sensation when I slashed the Life Reaper. The feeling of it being revived in its complete form was permeating my entire body like blood flow.
Ramsey was still laughing.
“Rather than just withstanding it, you slashed the magic itself... Why the hell have you gotten even stronger after losing an eye and a leg...”
“Well, a lot happened.”
With that, I broke my stance and asked Ramsey.
“Do you still want to go?”
“...No.”
Ramsey slowly got up. Sitting down with one knee up, he raised both hands in a sign of surrender.
“It's my loss! A complete defeat I can't say a damn word against!”
Looking around the audience, with a voice that reached every corner of the training ground, he shouted.
“All of you saw it too! After seeing that technique just now, there's no way anyone can make a pathetic complaint against this guy! If you have a problem, say it after you can do the same thing!”
He was suddenly acknowledging me. So stop it, I told you I’m weak to that kind of thing!
“Wolkaaaaa!”
“Wol-kuuuuun!”
“Whoa.”
At that moment, Master and Shannon, who were crying like characters in a manga, came rushing down from the spectator seats. Master dived straight into my stomach, while Shannon took my right hand and shook it vigorously.
“I was worried about you! I was worried about you, you dummy, dummy, dummy!”
“That’s right! I didn't understand a thing, but I’m so glad Wol-kun won!”
“Whoa, whoa!”
Hey, wait, careful, I’m going to fall! I have a prosthetic leg... Hm? Did the prosthetic just creak?
Also, the area around the base of the prosthetic felt a little painful. I intended to fight carefully so as not to put too much strain on it, but it seems things didn't go quite that well.
Well, it was already an improvement that it didn't just snap.
“Good work, Senior. You were cool. Really.”
“Mm. As expected, Wolka is amazing.”
Yulitia and Atri also praised me. But was it just my imagination, or did their eyes seem to hold somewhat heavy emotions? Yulitia pressed her hands against her cheeks, which seemed slightly flushed.
“Ha... I wonder if I'll be able to sleep properly tonight.”
“...Very difficult.”
What do you mean?
And voices praising me also came from the spectator seats.
“Wolka, that was stunning! You really are an amazing guy!”
“That was so refreshing! Good work!”
“Teach me the sword next time!”
I saw parties I knew whistling and clapping for me. From there, the circle gradually spread from person to person, and eventually, the entire training ground—even the middle-aged adventurer who had apparently been speaking ill of me—was filled with warm sounds.
Is this a case of "all’s well that ends well"?
“Kukuku, wasn't that good? You probably hate becoming a strange rumor, but if you're this strong, don't skulk around. Just be proud.”
“...”
There was no sign of Ramsey feeling regret for losing; if anything, he gave the impression of being clear-headed.
Suddenly, a question occurred to me. To what extent was this duel a scenario Ramsey had drawn up?
“Hey, did you perhaps intentionally—”
“No way, you idiot.”
Ramsey immediately became defensive.
“Don't get the wrong idea; did you already forget what I said yesterday? I was planning to crush you with everything I had.”
“...Well, I guess that's fine.”
Apparently, he intended to stick to being the nasty senior adventurer. Fine, fine, I get it.
And then, Master, who had sniffed her nose, let go of my stomach. She stood in front of me and turned to Ramsey, glaring intensely.
“Hey, you.”
“...What.”
“Apologize.”
Ramsey’s eyebrow twitched—no, it jerked.
“You said many mean things to Wolka. Just now, you targeted the prosthetic and threw sand... Apologize.”
Immediately, Yulitia followed with a smile. It was a smile that held no laughter within, carrying a pressure unbefitting of a thirteen-year-old girl.
“That's right, please apologize. You acknowledge Senior, don't you? Then you can do it, right? Because you're an adult, right?”
“...”
Ramsey tried to look away and escape, but as a finishing blow, Atri shaped her right hand into a claw.
“If you can't, I'll teach you how to apologize. By force.”
“............”
The sight of Ramsey losing his escape route while being cornered by three girls was, I’m sorry to say, quite funny.
There was no way a man could act nonchalant at this point; Ramsey looked up at the ceiling with an extremely sour face for a while, then sat back down.
“I was wrong, I admit it. I swear, I won't interfere with you guys ever again.”
“O-Oh.”
He lowered his head and apologized quite sincerely. That actually makes me feel more out of place.
But well, I guess this means the matter is settled. Master also nodded as if satisfied.
“Then, we'll settle for one slap each.”
Ah, so that’s a separate count from the apology.
Ramsey had already realized the futility of resistance.
“...Do as you like.”
“That's the spirit.”
Everyone lined up in a row. First, Master rolled up her sleeves with plenty of motivation.
Slap!
“Then, I'll do it on behalf of the guild. Here I go, uryaa!”
Slap!
“E-Err... I’m going to do it for real. Prepare yourself! Ta!!”
Slap!
“I'm last. Gritting your teeth.”
Crack!
“Phew, that felt refreshing!”
“Hawawa, I really slapped a man...”
“Everyone, those were great hits.”
“Honestly, don't do bad things anymore!”
Having received a rapid-fire sequence of four slaps from the four girls, Ramsey flew through the air while spinning. He landed in a heap.
“Ramsey!”
“Look, he’s turned to ash with a face like he’s accomplished everything... doing such a stupid thing...!”
“Ramsey, we won't forget you!”
“...”
Middle-aged adventurers who seemed to be Ramsey’s acquaintances were lamenting his noble sacrifice with passionate manly tears. It seemed it ended with a nice punchline.
Master came walking over.
“Wolka, let's go home. You're not to push yourself today; you're going to rest well at the inn!”
“Yeah, I'll do that.”
I nodded. After all, the base of the prosthetic leg hurt a bit, and so as not to worry them any further, I decided to spend the rest of the day quietly. I took Master’s hand and stepped forward with my left leg—
At that moment, I heard an extremely unpleasant snapping sound, and my vision overturned.
“—Wolka!”
Fortunately, Atri reacted immediately and caught me. However, I couldn't even say a word of thanks; I simply realized everything along with a pale sensation of dread.
I’d done it again.
“Wolka?!”
“Senior?!”
“Wol-kun?! What suddenly happe—”
Master, Yulitia, and Shannon all noticed it immediately and stopped moving. They couldn't have missed it. Before them lay a fact so obvious that no one could make any excuses.
The prosthetic leg was broken.
“...Ah—wait, everyone. This is, you see...”
I wanted to make an excuse. I was careful to fight without putting too much strain on it, you know? I’d been testing what kind of movements were okay during my daily training. It definitely wasn't on purpose. It’s just, well, my excitement got a bit too high at the very end.
Look, it was about to end as a very nice story until just now, wasn't it? Master said it too, right? That we should go back to the inn and rest well. I think so too. So everyone, let’s just calm down for a bit. First, get that light back into your eyes... I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Hey, wait—
“Hey, Wolka.”
And about two hours later, in a bed in a white, clean hospital room at the Cathedral.
“We need to talk.”
“Wh-What is it?”
Directly in front of me and slightly to the right, Master was sitting on the bed. She had a strange smile that looked pleasant but wasn't, making a chill run down my spine.
Moving my gaze further to the right...
“Regarding Wolka-sama’s replacement prosthetic, it seems it will still take a few days... I am truly sorry.”
“I-Is that so? I’m the one who should be sorry, for making things a hassle.”
Anze was leaning in close at the edge of the bed. Leaning forward significantly, she took my right hand, radiating an almost bursting aura of bliss.
“But please do not worry! This is the Cathedral... until the prosthetic arrives, we will take care of Wolka-sama with all our heart and soul so that you face no inconvenience!”
“...”
To the front and slightly to the left, Yulitia, who was also on the bed, was smiling radiantly.
To a worrying degree.
“Senior doesn't need to do anything, okay? From 'Good morning' to 'Good night,' just leave everything to us.”
“...Ha, haha.”
“We’re serious, you know?”
My lip twitched a little. Was it my imagination, or was this situation returning to how it was when I was recuperating in the town of Luther? No, the pressure from everyone was even greater than it was then.
“Wolka.”
Finally, leaning her face in from the left side of the bed, Atri summarized the current situation where the four of them had me completely surrounded.
“Granny said it. A man's job is to take responsibility.”
What are you talking about?!