My name was Pirika Winup. I held the title of Sword Saint.
However, it was not a title I could take pride in. I was the one who knew best just how inexperienced I truly was. Had my senior fellow disciples still been with us, I would never have been allowed to claim such a name.
The previous Sword Saint and my seniors had been warriors worth a thousand men. They were powerhouses, the kind of people who could charge into a band of a hundred bandits alone and emerge victorious. Thanks to them, it was said that bandits and corrupt officials had vanished not only from the area surrounding our dojo, but from the entire Fullhart Kingdom. The kingdom had been a better place back then.
By some twist of fate, the title eventually fell to me. I told myself I had to work twice as hard to avoid bringing shame to the memory of my master and my seniors, but I was painfully aware of my own inadequacies. While I had confidence in my ability to fight other people, I was hopeless at everything else.
I understood why. It was the negative consequence of only ever practicing against the same opponents within the dojo. I might have been undefeated within those walls, but the world outside was a different story. I learned that the hard way from the trouble I had dealing with the monsters I encountered on the road.
I knew I couldn't go on like that. My master, the previous Sword Saint, used to say that strength was the foundation of all things. I needed to become stronger.
With that goal in mind, I headed for Shashato City. I had initially considered traveling through the countries neighboring the Fullhart Kingdom, but the title of Sword Saint carried too much weight there. I was told I had to formally greet royalty—a task that far exceeded my social capabilities. Dealing with guard captains was stressful enough; I couldn't handle parties. I didn't know how to dance, and I didn't even own the right clothes.
I chose Shashato City because it was a place where the title of Sword Saint held no meaning. To put it simply, it was a city belonging to a nation currently at war with the Fullhart Kingdom. Free from the shackles of my title, I intended to start my training over from scratch.
As for my immediate living expenses, I managed to scrape by by selling materials from the monsters I defeated along the way, though it was a precarious existence. When I heard a martial arts tournament was approaching, I decided to enter to win the prize money. Under those rules, I felt confident. Looking at the potential winnings, I even told myself it was okay to treat myself to curry that day.
I was utterly defeated.
My opponent in the final match utilized a sword and magic fusion technique. I hadn't trained so poorly that I would lose to magic alone, but my opponent happened to have six arms. They were a member of the Multi-arm race, and it was my first time facing such a foe. I was toyed with by the unique, erratic rhythm of six blades and eventually fell. For a moment, I considered asking them to train me, but I only had two arms. Seeking their tutelage would likely have been a waste of time.
Fortunately, I found someone I could truly call a master soon after. The victor who had beaten me immediately challenged one of the judges to a match. He was a beastman and the winner of the previous tournament: the God of War Galf. I learned his name from the cheers of the crowd, but I had actually met him briefly before.
He had seen me acting alone near the Adventurer Guild and, perhaps out of pity, had offered me various bits of advice. At the time, I had worried he might be a con artist because he asked so much about my family, and I had spent that night filled with regret. Seeing him now, I realized he was a truly honorable warrior. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing he had been genuinely concerned for my well-being.
And he was incredibly strong. He defeated the tournament winner without breaking a sweat and gave him some casual advice. He pointed out that the training of the opponent's bottom-right arm was lacking—something I hadn't even noticed.
I knew then that if I could convince him to train me, I would finally grow. Casting aside my pride, I begged to become his disciple. At first, he refused. He told me there were plenty of people stronger than him and that he was in no position to take on students. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was just an excuse to turn me away, but I had circumstances that wouldn't allow me to give up. I followed him desperately.
It turned out my master was telling the truth. People stronger than him really were everywhere. It was a complete shock. Master was one thing, but a Lizardman named Daga carried an aura identical to my senior fellow disciples. I was told he was even stronger than Master. Still, Master was the only one I could call my teacher. I didn't have a tail, nor did I have the talent for magic. I could only hope for his continued guidance.
As for the Village Head... well, no matter what anyone said, he only looked like an ordinary man to me. At best, he had a certain noble air about him, perhaps like someone of royal blood. At worst, he seemed detached from the world, as if his feet didn't quite touch the ground. Of course, I shouldn't be the one to judge, having lived my entire life in the narrow confines of a dojo.
Regardless, Master and Daga-san strictly warned me never to defy him. Was he truly stronger than them? I couldn't tell.
Then there was the matter of the Demon Spiders. In my world, encountering one was synonymous with death, even if it was just a spiderling. We were taught to never approach them. Yet, the Village Head called them his family. When I encountered one, he was more worried about the spiderling than he was about me, even though I was the one who had fainted from terror. It was hard to believe, but since I was still alive, I suppose they really were family. Demon Spiders were mysterious creatures; perhaps it wasn't impossible for them to bond with a human. I knew I had to apologize for drawing my sword on it.
But what kind of person was the Village Head if even a Demon Spider recognized him as family? Was he a god or something?
The "God"—no, the Village Head—eventually asked me why I wanted to become strong. I told him the truth. I wanted to be strong so that I could be free. While I could move about, I was not truly free. The Fullhart Kingdom held the disciples at my dojo hostage to keep me under their thumb. If I didn't return periodically, I didn't know what would happen to them. To break that cycle, I needed power—enough power to force the kingdom to let us go.
He asked if I wanted revenge. I told him I had a grudge, but no interest in vengeance. He asked if I could throw away my title if it meant being free. To be honest, I didn't want to. It was a title my master and seniors had spent their lives protecting.
The Village Head nodded and told me that Galf and Daga were working hard to help me. I knew that already; I couldn't thank them enough for the daily training. Then he said he had been thinking about what he could do for me as well, but since it involved another country, there were limits to what he could do voluntarily.
He told me that to do more, he needed a reason. Or rather, a "reward."
I panicked, thinking he wanted my title, or perhaps even my body. He got genuinely angry at the suggestion and told me he had enough in that department, threatening to kick me out if I said it again. He admitted that "reward" was a misleading way to put it.
He explained that while he, Galf, and Daga had been acting on their own because they cared, they couldn't go any further unless I explicitly stated what I wanted. He wasn't the type to meddle where he wasn't wanted. I realized my mistake, corrected my posture, and bowed deeply.
I looked him in the eye and said, "Please, help us."
Two months later, the results were clear. All the disciples who had been held hostage, along with their families—three hundred people in total—had been relocated to the settlement under construction known as Village Five.
On the day of the operation, the Fullhart Kingdom had been thrown into a panic by the arrival of a dragon. The Village Head said he had simply "asked" the dragon for a favor. When I asked how, he said the dragon was his wife's sister's husband. I didn't understand that at all. Wasn't that the legendary Evil Dragon, Marksbergark?
The site where our dojo once stood was transformed into a field in a single night, leaving only the graves of my master and seniors untouched. The Village Head did it all himself. When I asked what he would plant there, he said that since it was near the graves, beautiful flowers would be best. I was moved to tears.
The method we used to move to Village Five was a closely guarded secret. I had no intention of telling a soul. Apparently, it involved a very precious item, as one of the Village Head's wives had been crying and protesting its use. I felt truly sorry for the trouble we caused.
We began our new lives in Village Five. Since the city was still being built, they told us that adding three hundred people didn't change much. We lived in tents for a while, but we were moved into proper houses soon after. Work was arranged for us as well; they said as long as we weren't picky, there was plenty to do.
Now, my disciples and I spend our days hunting monsters and magic beasts at the foot of the mountain to earn our keep. There's talk of us becoming the official guard for Village Five in the future, but every day is a reminder of how much more we have to learn.
I see Master about once a week, and Daga-san as well. They continue to look after all of us. I truly look forward to what the future holds under their guidance.
As for the title of Sword Saint, I've decided to seal it away for a while. Part of it is to avoid diplomatic friction with the Fullhart Kingdom, but mostly, it's because the title is still too heavy for the current me. I will work until I am a swordsman worthy of that name.
Marriage? Eh? Well, I suppose I am getting on in years... I am twenty-five, after all. Master? W-with Master? I don't have those kinds of feelings... though I do think he's a wonderful person. If there's a possibility...