Chapter 6: 6. The Adventure Begins

Attack.

There was no time to think of anything else.

Goosebumps rose as my body moved beyond my control.

Seeing that choice being selected, I screamed loudly.

Though my body wouldn’t obey my will, I could at least shout a warning.

“Grandfather! Dodge!!!”

My throat tore from the scream, and my body moved immediately afterward.

The sword was drawn.

Never before had holding a sword and attacking someone felt so natural.

The old man showed no hint of doubt at my shout, drawing the sword he’d always carried since beginning my training.

We clashed.

Clang-! The unpleasant metallic sound echoed through the antique shop.

The old man instinctively pointed his sword at me.

Though flustered, he remained composed.

He wanted to observe the situation first, but such complacency was dangerous.

Despite having autonomy, I still hadn’t fully regained control of my body.

I bit my lip.

Gripped the sword in reverse.

Placed my hand on the table and slammed it down.

-! With a horrific sound, the back of my hand was pierced. Pain surged, making me want to scream.

But I knew screaming here would doom us both.

I bit my sword arm’s forearm to stifle the scream.

Tears flowed. Cold sweat and blood dripped steadily, soaking the floor.

[This autonomy thing really sucks.]

The voice carried slight annoyance and disappointment.

It seemed displeased by my disobedience yet treated it as trivial.

[That NPC’s weapon looked really good… Shame. Wanted to kill him and give it to my main.]

I wanted to curse at this utterly inhuman remark, but pain choked my throat.

[Well… I came to change my nickname anyway! Shouldn’t dwell on it!]

Disgust surged at how casually it dismissed failing to attack Grandfather for the sword.

[My main should use the name Rie, right? Compared to a kid like this.]

My grip tightened on the sword at how naturally it renamed me.

But I was powerless.

There was nothing I could do.

Grandfather cautiously approached, sword still pointed at me.

Though it wasn’t my will, I’d attacked first – being countered was inevitable, yet it felt unjust.

[What’s up with this one? Swordsmanship F is no joke. My three-day-old character already has Swordsmanship B. This one was hopeless from the start.]

A playful tone and irritating laughter followed, as if enjoying this situation.

I didn’t want to hear it.

Wanted to tear that mouth apart if possible.

Who turned me into this, only to spout such nonsense?

Grandfather took another step forward.

[Neglected1? Too lazy even for a name. Should at least be person-like.]

[Just reverse it – Eri. Hmm… Lame… How about Ellie?]

Grandfather took another step.

Reached out toward me.

[There… Done! You’re Ellie now. Won’t see you again anyway.]

With those words, I felt control return to my body.

The voice was gone.

Seemed it had moved on.

Grandfather approached, pulled the sword piercing my hand, and threw it to the floor.

Examining my injured hand, he sighed while looking down at me.

“…Ellie.”

He called me “Ellie” as if it were natural.

I hated it so much.

Furious at my own helplessness, but more than that, overwhelming guilt consumed me.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

I hadn’t attacked by choice.

But knowing apologies would sound like excuses made the injustice burn hotter, tears flowing freely.

Nothing uglier than a grown man crying,

yet the more I fought tears, the more pitifully they streamed down.

“I know this wasn’t your will… but.”

I feared what came next but bowed my head to accept it.

“Intentional or not, I cannot live with someone who stabs at me with a sword.”

“…I understand.”

This sudden turn – had Grandfather not reacted, he’d be dead.

Killed meaninglessly, his weapon greedily taken by that newly created being.

Hatred bloomed for that unseen creation.

Being unfavorably compared mattered little – attempting to harm my lifesaver was unforgivable.

Yet still powerless.

“But casting you out now would be sentencing you to death. I’ll teach you my all these coming weeks.”

“…What?”

“Frankly, it’s hard to justify. This might be sharpening a murderer’s blade.”

He spoke while lifting my bloodied sword.

The stained blade emitted no light.

“But seeing you endure pain to restrain yourself – I’ll trust that once.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Let’s treat your wound first.”

He fetched a medical box and bandaged my hand.

Though unintended, since I’d struck flesh not bone, the injury wasn’t as severe as feared.

That day passed in silence.

We slept, maintained silence the next day, and began training without words.

No questions exchanged.

We simply acted as if performing inevitable duties.

His promise to train me enough to not die meaninglessly within weeks proved sincere.

Grandfather’s teachings grew heavier, no longer gentle.

Harsh, even frightening.

But I endured.

Knowing he trained me not from dislike, but guilt over being unable to stay together – I gritted my teeth.

Our initial meeting stemmed from his kindness, as did our time together.

Even now, he helped me out of goodwill.

Thus, no complaints were warranted.

Being no beast but a grateful person, I gripped my sword despite bleeding hands. By week three, results shone.

-Military Swordsmanship F ▶ Military Swordsmanship E

[Military Swordsmanship E]

Your small frame and difficulty gaining muscle make swordsmanship unsuitable, with talent shallower than others, lagging in all aspects.

Yet through effort and exceptional teaching, you’ve progressed one stage, finally qualifying to bear the name ‘swordsmanship’.

“At this level, at least you won’t die to some street thugs.”

His words signaled departure time.

That evening, Grandfather began packing my belongings.

I owned nothing – these were all his preparations.

“Listen well. Carry your sword as usual, but if questioned, claim you’re delivering it as an errand when possible. If unavoidable, say it’s simple self-defense.”

Few would harass a delivery runner risking unknown consequences.

Essentially, don’t reveal my swordsmanship.

“Drawing your sword should be a last resort – whether strong or not. Once you wound someone, you forge grudges rarely shed.”

He recited this like past experience. I nodded.

“Travel money is three silver coins. Meant to give more, but Ellie, you know my shop isn’t prosperous.”

“N-no! It’s fine!”

Truly fine.

If anything, shouldn’t I be paying him?

Helping in the shop repaid food and shelter, but swordsmanship training was different.

“Packed jerky and bread for five days – replenish before they run out.”

“…Grandfather.”

“Something on your mind?”

“J-just one thing… Why are you being so kind?”

“…Simply… you remind me of my daughter.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Apologizing hastily for the intrusive question, he blinked before smiling faintly.

“For what? She married and had children.”

“Huh?”

“My son-in-law established this antique shop. What were you imagining?”

“Then why mention missing your daughter…?”

“She miscarried. Had the child lived, they’d be your age now…”

I’d asked what shouldn’t be asked.

As heavy air settled, Grandfather continued packing rather than blaming me.

Dawn came. Early morning.

“Well, I’ll go now.”

“Start at the Adventurer’s Guild. A rookie adventurer identity beats slum origins.”

“Grandfather.”

I looked at him, forcing open reluctant lips.

“Your name, please.”

“…Leon.”

“…Seven months together, and only now I learn your name.”

“Sorry it must end this way.”

Protecting and teaching me despite my attack was an unforgettable grace.

“It’s fine… I’m the one who’s sorry.”

I bowed farewell and walked briskly away.

Lingering would breed attachment.

Two adventure goals:

Find escape from this damned situation.

And kill that damn player’s newly created character.

Preferably the streamer too.

The townspeople’s unpleasant stares now felt utterly familiar.