Chapter 139: Bondalles’ Famous Delicacy (1)

“How is it?”

Risir asked.

“Ah—! it’s still there…!”

Pallarg, checking Felix’s condition, shouted.

Risir sighed in frustration.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you? Why are you so weak now? Are you really the same hand that destroyed a city and nearly ruined us?”

At his reproach, the Asking Left Hand answered.

—Because. You didn’t pay the price. Because of you. My power. Has greatly waned.

“Oh, is that so? Got it.”

—A little late, but. I’m glad you understand.

“I demand.”

—What!? You said you understood!

“That’s that, and this is this. First we put out the fire in front of us, right? Our friend, the world’s hope, one of the Hero Candidate is in danger. You won’t help?”

—That’s. None. Of my. Business.

“By that logic, your business isn’t mine either.”

—You… vile… thing.

“Now, now, don’t make me out as some villain. Let’s just keep this civil, yeah? How about it, can I make the demand? If you say no, I won’t.”

Risir asked kindly, as if the pale flame blooming his left hand had nothing to do with kindness.

—…

Tremble.

The Asking Left Hand shuddered, joints creaking as it painfully forced out its power.

Crack. Crack.

Those watching felt conflicted.

What had once seemed utterly ominous now looked almost like an old man being worked to exhaustion, stirring pity of those who watched the exchange.

Then—

Snap.

Its ring finger bent backward unnaturally and locked in place.

At the same time, Pallarg shouted.

“Risir! It’s gone! The aura on Felix is gone!”

The pursuit aimed at the Hero of Insight was blocked.

And the first to express joy—

—At last!

Was the Asking Left Hand itself.

A monstrosity of curses and ruin, genuinely rejoicing at a hero’s reprieve.

“Heh. You’re that happy?”

—Then. Your demand. Has been fulfilled. Right?

“Yes, yes. Well done.”

—Ah… ahh… I’m glad. So glad. I survived.

Someone in the group murmured.

“…So that’s how.”

It was a Devil, but now it’s a elemental.

They realized how to accept such impossible sentences.

Their minds had stepped one pace further from common sense.

“Then.”

Risir, watching Felix carefully, asked.

“Does this mean their pursuit is over?”

“…”

Felix’s party couldn’t answer.

Jane stepped in.

“Better to watch for a while longer. Felix, until this ends, move with me. That way they won’t act rashly, and if anything happens, we’ll handle it more easily.”

“…No.”

Felix shook his head firmly.

“I don’t even know who’s chasing us. I can’t drag you in. If you and your companions got hurt because of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

“…”

Their expressions grew heavy.

Felix’s refusal carried the pride and resolve of a true hero.

Heroes chosen by Holy Swords, showered with the world’s praise, could not hide behind others in fear.

It was unthinkable.

Who could break such resolve?

Though they knew he was being stubborn, none dared press him further.

—You dare say that, after bringing some strange relic and troubling Mastah!!!

…Except a certain not-quite-Devil.

—Don’t overestimate your petty judgment! All the more so when the great Radiance and Guiding Light Himself is right beside you! I, Dan’Galeon, who lead the blind to the Holy Radiance, shall show you the right path! Seek Mastah’s counsel now! Follow it, and bright future will follow you!!!

Dan’Galeon’s voice carried tremendous force, thrilled by Risir’s display of power.

Too much force, shaking the room as if to hammer in his point.

“…”

How was a hero supposed to react when lectured with such flawless logic by a Devil?

Not even the Hero of Insight knew.

Felix glanced shyly at Risir.

“…What should I do?”

“Why not take Jane’s offer.”

“…Alright.”

—Well done! Now pay respects to Mastah!

“…Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

—You there! Shake his hand! It will bring Mastah even greater joy!

“…Felix.”

“…Yeah, Jane. Thanks for the offer.”

—Kahaha!!! I can already see Mastah smiling in joy!

“…I’m happy too.”

A not-quite-Devil solves the heroes’ quarrel.

—…What even is this.

The Holy Swords groaned as if with headaches.

They’re still in their sword from, yet the swords somehow look tired.

After resonating with the Sword of Enhancement Zarak, Risir returned to his original lodging at Goose Mansion, having ceded his room at Jane’s estate to Felix’s group.

Risir found himself wondering.

Am I overstaying my welcome?

Walking with him, Drey caught his thought.

“No need to feel awkward. The mansion’s owner owes you much.”

“…Me? What did I even do?”

“Because of you, me, Lord Pallarg, Tua, even the heroes, all kinds of people are drawn here.”

“Ah.”

“And for a merchant, connections are everything. This is a huge opportunity for him.”

“Come to think of it, why are you and Lord Pallarg still here? Weren’t you just planning a short stay in Bondalles?”

“Didn’t I just say? Because of you.”

“…What?”

“Staying with you means seeing rare things daily. How could we leave? Just look.”

Pallarg pointed to the relic in Risir’s hand.

The Asking Left Hand, wrapped in purple cloth.

“Even in all my years, I’ve seen few relics as wondrous as that.”

“And–

Drey pointed at the Holy Sword at Risir’s hip.

“Unbelievable, but you really did become a Holy Sword’s master. Should we start calling you a hero now?”

“A hero, huh…”

Risir gave a bitter smile.

Drey burst out laughing.

“My god, Risir. You must be the only man in the world who reacts like that after becoming a Holy Sword’s master.”

“Well, considering your ability, it makes sense you wouldn’t cling to it like others. Becoming a Holy Sword’s master means inheriting the Hero’s will, after all.”

“And a hero’s mission is never light. Just like today—getting dragged into trouble because of the sword. Just think of how you got the Sword of Enhancement—”

—Enough!!!

Zarak cried, unable to endure.

—Please, don’t shake my master’s heart any further! If Risir abandons me, I—I…!

“What? Plenty of folks want to be your Master.”

—No! I can’t live without him now!

“…That wording could use work.”

Watching with amusement, Drey and Pallarg said.

“See, Risir?”

“This is why we can’t leave you. Where else could we see a Holy Sword act like this?”

“…”

Risir pondered their words, troubled by the implications of it, until someone approached.

“Ah, Risir. You’re back.”

It was Tua, the Knight Order captain.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Me? Don’t tell me? Another incident?”

“I heard from Drey. You followed the heroes and got dragged into another mess? Care to tell me the story?”

“… Is this tied to the Knight Order?”

“Nope. I’m just curious.”

“…?”

Risir stared blankly.

“What’s the matter?”

“Not sure if this counts as a problem…”

He wondered how to take being treated as the local celebrity by such powerful people.

“…But Tua, aren’t you supposed to be back with the Knight Order? They must be in shambles.”

“That’s an odd way to put it.”

“Just a feeling.”

“Well, don’t worry. Thanks to you.”

“…Me again?”

“You resolved the Face Thief incident so quickly, it gave us breathing room. We can finally recover from the strain of chasing it. So we’ll be sticking near you a while.”

“…Near me? That phrasing’s odd.”

“What’s odd about it?”

Then—

“Risir!”

Magnus, the vice captain of the Knight Order, ran up with other members.

“The Captain told me! You followed the heroes and got into another incident!? Are you okay!?”

“Ah! Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking!”

Finally, a normal conversation.

Risir answered with heartfelt relief.

“Really!? That’s great! So! Tell us all about it!”

“Whoa!”

“Calm down, Magnus. You’re overwhelming him.”

“Sir Drey…!”

“Let’s move somewhere else first. Stories can wait. Right?”

“Ugh, fine!”

Only after being wrung dry of stories did Risir finally escape.

“Sigh…”

That evening, Risir finally had some true private time.

His gaze fell first on the purple-wrapped bundle in the corner.

The Asking Left Hand.

What do I even do with this thing?

Others had shown envy and interest in the relic, but to Risir it was just a troublesome burden.

A relic for cursing people, what use is that?

He tried asking the dwellers of his inner world.

“Verdande… su. You there?”

—Nappy, nap time!

“Oh—sorry for disturbing you. Then… Dan’Galeon?”

—At your call, Mastah!!!

“Any thoughts on how to use that relic?”

—Of course! My knowledge of curses eclipses that paltry thing’s!

“Reliable as ever. Truly a Devil—”

—Please forget that word!!!

“…?”

—Because I am no vile Devil! Curses! Ah! The very thought disgusts me!

“What are you on about. Just answer the question.”

—Mastah!!! Withdraw this order! If I use curses, my pure white flame will be defiled!!!

He flared a blaze to prove his point.

“…That’s gray.”

—It only looks that way in the dark!!!

“But there’s literal white fire right there.”

—Ah! Blast!

“Whatever. Clana? You there?”

—I’ve been waiting. Speak.

“I wanted your advice on how best to use it.”

—You know it doesn’t suit you.

“…Right.”

For some reason, the Murder Fiend’s voice sounded unusually gentle.

“You’re right. I’m too soft to use it, aren’t I?”

—Don’t belittle yourself.

“…?”

—Soft? Nonsense. You’ve got the iron will to resist even a Holy Sword’s will.

“…Creepy. Why so sentimental all of a sudden?”

—Enough. Enter the inner world. I’ve much to teach you.

“Not now.”

Risir ignored her, unwrapping the purple cloth.

The withered, branch-like horror revealed itself.

“…Hm?”

He tilted his head.

“Something’s changed.”

It wasn’t just his imagination.

Last time, only its little finger had been bent backward.

Now its ring and middle fingers were bent too.

“Don’t tell me… is this thing dying?”

—It must’ve poured all its power into fulfilling your orders, Mastah! A death to be aspired to by all creation!

Risir frowned.

Not out of pity.

The thing had ruined countless lives with curses.

But still.

He couldn’t accept it being destroyed so meaninglessly.

If it dies like this, what of all the people it killed?

After a moment’s thought, Risir asked Dan’Galeon.

“If I share my energy with it, will it recover?”

—For such a wretch, it’d be an undeserved luxury!!!

“Good. Then—”

He pressed his hand to the relic.

Energy flowed through the contact.

“That should do.”

He watched for a while.

No real change.

He shrugged.

He’d done what he could.

If it still perished, so be it.

Rewrapping it in the purple cloth, he returned to bed.

Time passed—

In the dark room—

Twitch.

Twitch, twitch.

Faint sounds stirred the silence.

All through the night.