“Well then, I’m counting on you.”
“Gob!”
Upon returning home from the town of Gimul, Ryoma immediately gathered the goblins. He gave them their instructions while eating a quick meal, then bathed to wash away the sweat and went straight to his bedroom, hoping for a nap.
However, sleep refused to come.
Between firefighting, rescue operations, medical treatments, and the hunt for kidnappers, he had spent the day racing across town, pushing his magic to its limits. He had also made frequent use of Sensory Link with his slimes, leaving him physically and mentally drained. Yet, despite the exhaustion, the urge to sleep eluded him.
Instead, a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts kept surfacing and vanishing in the back of his mind.
Even when he did drift into a shallow slumber, he would wake almost immediately. Eventually, he gave up and sat up.
(It’s no use. I can’t sleep.)
Ryoma slowly climbed out of bed and took a cup and a small pouch from the bedside shelf. He took a single scoop of the pouch’s contents with the enclosed spoon. As the brownish-red powder trickled into the cup, he poured in boiling water produced by magic.
“Whew... at times like this, nothing beats this.”
It was a traditional medicinal brew his family had favored since his previous life. It was a blend of roasted dandelion roots, mugwort, ginkgo leaves, and several other wild plants—a concoction he had managed to recreate in this world by gathering the necessary herbs.
(In the past, I always... No, this has been happening more often lately...)
Ever since the town had fallen into unrest, Ryoma found himself reminiscing about the past more frequently. While it wasn't every night, there were times like tonight when sleep was impossible. On such occasions, memories of his former life almost invariably drifted into his mind.
Everyone remembers the past now and then. He had told himself it was just fatigue and hadn't given it much thought, but tonight felt different.
"On the night three days before the end of the year, if you stay at the abandoned mine alone, your doubts might clear up."
He recalled the words spoken to him by the god Selerepta, and a question took root.
“Was he talking about this?”
Once one question was born, others followed in rapid succession.
If the "doubts" referred to his habit of dwelling on the past, then what did it mean for them to "clear up"? What was he actually doubting? What was the cause? Was he remembering the past because of his doubts, or was he doubting because he remembered the past?
His thoughts wouldn't coalesce, weighed down by physical and mental fatigue. Ryoma sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly as he sipped his tea.
(In the first place, why did Selerepta tell me that? The other gods were right there, yet he waited for a moment when only I could hear him...)
Considering Selerepta’s whimsical personality, Ryoma felt the god wouldn't be easy to read, yet he also held a strange trust that the deity wouldn't tell a pointless lie. He continued his fragmented train of thought.
“...Heh.”
He found no answer. Instead, a smile played across his lips.
(I don’t get it. But I suppose it doesn't matter. I might remember the old days, but those are just stories from the past. I can say for certain that my current life is nothing but pure happiness.
I have no trouble with food, clothing, or shelter, and my income from adventuring and running the shop is more than enough. My life isn't just stable; I have a fulfilling hobby in slime research that serves a practical purpose. I have more acquaintances now, and while not everyone I meet is perfect, I am surrounded by kind people... I can’t possibly think of this as anything other than happiness.)
As he took a sip of the tea, he remembered that the ginkgo leaves had been gathered with the young adventurer, Beck. On the shelf where he kept his cup, there was a stone on display that he had received from young Niki upon returning from his expedition to the Fatma Territory.
His room was filled with an increasing number of items that connected him to others.
Back when he was a hermit in the Gana Forest, he had many things, but they were all items he had fashioned himself. Everything had been self-sufficient; his world had begun and ended with him alone.
“No, thinking like that makes me sound like a lonely guy, which I don't like. Even then, I had the slimes, so strictly speaking, I wasn't alone... though I suppose it’s a stretch to count slimes as people. If anything, that just makes me sound even lonelier.”
Perhaps it was a habit from living alone, or perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Ryoma laughed at his own monologue, his mood slightly more elevated than usual.
(In the past, I never imagined I could live like this. It was something out of a light novel, like a dream... Wait, is that what he meant?)
The moment he stopped trying to force it, it hit him. The "doubt" Selerepta spoke of. Perhaps the cause wasn't dissatisfaction, but the very fact that he found his current life so incredibly happy.
(If that’s the case, I can understand it. If this was all a dream, and I had to return to my old life when I woke up... I wouldn't want to go back.)
Ryoma remembered the first time he met Gain and the others. When he was told of his own death, he had felt that whether it was a dream or reality, "either was fine." He had felt so little regret for his previous life that he had readily chosen reincarnation, which had led him to this point.
(It was a life where I felt like I’d been thrown into the middle of the ocean, forced to keep moving because I’d drown if I stopped, with no vision or hope for the future. It was "better than nothing" because I could at least survive, but I was always terrified, knowing that everything could shatter if one thing went wrong.
Whenever I saw news of crimes, I couldn't help but feel that I would eventually follow that same path. I have no intention of defending criminals, but when I saw the comments on those news stories, it felt like I was being blamed, and it made me sad.
I didn't want to die by choice, but I wondered if it wouldn't be easier if I were dead. I wondered if I should just die quickly so I wouldn't be a nuisance to society. That thought was always lingering in the corner of my mind... Protecting my daily life was just a cycle of grinding down my body and soul.)
Then, Ryoma recalled the words of Oresto, the young head of the slave trading company.
"I felt that, in order to protect your precious daily life, you are unconsciously trying to be a 'good child' who listens to what adults say. ...You look very happy now, but you also look stifled."
“Haha, he really hit the nail on the head... Yeah. I understand now. Because the people around me are kind and my life is going well, I truly intended to be a new person. But on the inside, I haven't changed much at all.”
He murmured the words, and while they sounded pessimistic, he said them with a profound sense of clarity. His heart was more serene than ever before, and the smile on his face was not one of self-deprecation. By the time he finished the tea, the chaotic thoughts in his mind had vanished. Ryoma was about to head back to bed—
“Ah, they actually came.”
—at that exact moment, the Stone Slimes he had hidden around the abandoned mine signaled the approach of a group.
“This is part of the 'doubts clearing up' too, I see. I get it now... but this is definitely going to make everyone worry about me again.”
In the dimly lit room, Ryoma wore a troubled yet strangely happy smile as he reached for the katana leaning beside his bed. His physical condition was far from perfect.
However, his presence now radiated a surge of spirit unlike anything he had shown before.
The sky was heavy with clouds, blocking the light of the moon and stars, and the road leading from the abandoned mine to the town was buried under deep snow.
Malice crept through the forest toward this isolated mountain island in the middle of the night. There were thirty-two of them.
Thirty of them, the bulk of the force, wore equipment painted black to blend into the shadows. They carried boxes like backpacks on their shoulders and moved with practiced caution, eyes scanning the terrain.
The remaining two individuals walked through the forest with ease, despite wearing heavy armor and carrying greatswords known as Zweihanders on their backs.
Anyone who saw them would recognize them as a highly suspicious group. Just as they reached the foot of the mountain—
A casual voice echoed through the area.
“Ah—”
“!!”
“Test, test. Can you hear me? This is Ryoma Takebayashi. To the people approaching from the forest: You’ve come to kill me, haven't you? I won't run, so just come out already. I'm right here.”
Immediately after, lights flickered on in a section of the pitch-black abandoned mine.
It was the square that had been used during the previous subjugation mission, serving as a hub for past mining yields. Now, numerous signal fires were set up in a wide circle, and Ryoma himself stood in the center.
“Activate them!”
Though there was still a fair distance between them, the light source and the target were now visible to the naked eye. One man squinted and gave a calm instruction; the black-clad men all reached for the boxes on their backs, quickly activating the magic tools within.
“There's no point in hiding anym—”
Ryoma’s voice was cut off mid-sentence.
The waves of mana generated by the magic tools had neutralized the Wind Magic he was using to carry his voice.
Silence returned to the forest for a fleeting moment, only to be broken by the command of a black-clad leader.
“Hurry.”
Following the short order, a portion of the black-clad group moved ahead. If there were ambushes or traps, they were prepared to sacrifice their lives to clear them, ensuring the main force reached the target even a second faster. They possessed that level of resolve... but it proved meaningless.
They reached Ryoma without encountering a single ambush, trap, or any form of interference. Furthermore, the target had not fled. He stood in the center of a ring of mown grass where the snow had been melted, inside the circle of signal fires, holding a drawn katana.
His composure only served to heighten the caution of the black-clad group.
“Welcome. Not that I'm glad to see you. I'll ask just in case, but do you have any intention of surrendering quietly?”
“Don't be absurd. Do you not understand the situation?”
“I'm well aware that my life is the goal. I was told to run away immediately if anything happened... but it would be a problem if you headed toward the town, so I decided to deal with you on my own.”
Ryoma’s words were a declaration of war.
The atmosphere was thick with the threat of immediate violence, and yet—
“Fu-ha! This is entertaining! Isn't it, elder brother?!”
“Indeed, younger brother. To think he would come to face us head-on.”
“Wait, there might be a trap.”
The ones laughing were the pair in heavy armor. They drew their man-sized greatswords and strode forward. A nearby black-clad operative tried to stop them, but the armored men waved him off.
“We are not amateurs. Besides, finishing off the brat is our job.”
“You lot stay back and watch the perimeter for any tricks.”
At those words, the black-clad men took a step back.
“Are only two of you going to be my opponents?”
“Hmph... it seems you’ve been quite the nuisance. We were told to target you while you were exhausted from the turmoil in town and kill you without fail.”
“The roles of the fellows behind us are primarily to set the stage and act as a cleanup crew to ensure no interlopers interfere.”
“My, what a cautious response for just one child. Is that why I can't use magic anymore?”
“We also laughed at first. But now that we see you for ourselves... what do you think, brother?”
“It looks like I might enjoy this more than I expected, elder brother. Just standing boldly before us without running away takes considerable grit... and the fact that it doesn't seem like a bluff makes it even more interesting.”
At this point, Ryoma let out a deep sigh.
“It would be much easier if you were the type of ruffians who charged in shouting, ‘A brat like this will be an easy win!’...”
“We’ve gathered what information we could beforehand. Surely you have some idea as to why you're being taken so seriously?”
When the man addressed as "elder brother" spoke, Ryoma made a slightly troubled face.
“Ah... I have some ideas, but I’ve done so much lately that I don’t know which specific thing triggered it. My magic has been sealed—was it because I thrashed those delinquent adventurers?”
“We wouldn't be on guard over someone who just put a few arrogant brats in their place.”
“You finished off the bandits in the Gana Forest, didn't you?”
At the younger brother’s words, the pieces clicked into place for Ryoma.
“Are you their comrades?”
“There is no direct connection. People like us often travel through mountains and forests where ordinary people don't go. Information on such 'back roads' is shared within the Dark Guild. According to that info, several bandit groups have gone missing near the Gana Forest over the last few years.”
“If you were living in the Gana Forest and collecting bounties on those missing bandit groups, it's only natural to assume you were the one who did them in. Above all, when someone is pouring out such dense killing intent right in front of us, even an amateur would realize it.”
Though they appeared to be having a calm conversation, the three of them were constantly emitting an overwhelming sense of intimidation.
The pressure was enough to give chills to the black-clad operatives, men who had committed numerous crimes and survived many life-and-death situations. If they hadn't felt it, they would have moved to take Ryoma’s life immediately; even if their assigned role was cleanup, they wouldn't miss an opening.
“It's strange. A brat who looks like he hasn't lived even a quarter as long as we have, yet he reminds me of a seasoned veteran.”
“I’ve cut down more people than I can count, but this is the first time I’ve seen a brat who doesn't wail in fear when we draw our swords. Let me ask before I kill you. Why face us alone? Are you not afraid of us, or of death?”
“Hmm... well, I'm aware this isn't the smartest choice. But before I know it, I always end up meddling where I shouldn't. I’ve failed many times and been hated for it since the old days, and I keep thinking I should stop, but I just can't seem to help it. As for death... well, begging for your life from a wild beast or from nature is pointless, so death felt close when I lived in the forest. And besides, I’ve died once already...”
“Died once?”
“What are you talking about?”
Whether they took it as a joke or assumed he was being evasive, their voices were laced with displeasure. Ryoma added with an ambiguous smile:
“Just think of it as a figure of speech. It’s hard to explain... but personally, I know of a life that was worse than dying, and right now, I'm satisfied. That's why, in a different sense than before, I have no regrets even if I die here. If I die and get to go back to those gods, that might not be so bad either.”
With a gentle smile, Ryoma spoke without hesitation.
“Though, the biggest reason is that I have absolutely no intention of dying here. I still want to stay in that town, and above all, I don't want to make the people who looked after me sad.”
“I'm afraid that’s impossible. We’ve accepted the contract, and we can’t go back empty-handed. If there are people you don't want to sadden, you should have run away as fast as you could.”
“No, considering that he’s preventing damage to the town or his companions, one could say this was the best decision.”
Even in the face of the brothers' death threats, Ryoma’s smile did not falter.
“That’s only if your side wins, isn't it? I appreciate you going through the trouble of preparing magic tools to seal my magic, but actually, I'm better with a sword than I am with magic.”
“Then show us that skill. We are the assassins known as the 'Mighty Sword Brothers'.”
“No one has ever faced us and returned alive.”
The brothers finally stepped into the ring of grass—and in the next instant, their movements accelerated unnaturally, flanking Ryoma from both sides.
There were no signals in a real battle; the fight to the death began abruptly.