Chapter 74 – If You’re Upset, Try Keeping Up (3)

“My teacher should have seen me in action!”

Since I already knew that the child was an orphan staying at the chapel,

I decided to head there instead of returning to where the sword was embedded. Sure enough…

“Even I was surprised when he smashed through that building wall with just his body!”

Luciri recounted with an exasperated tone, while Leo simply laughed and nodded in agreement.

With hands planted on her hips and chest puffed out, Luillin resembled a plucky, innocent child her age.

She had even quickly befriended several of the children gathered at the chapel.

…Though Luillin herself didn’t seem to see it that way.

“It’s only natural for the weak to be drawn to the strong! Besides, I’m a promising young female!”

…Remarks like that.

After overhearing this, Luciri sighed in disbelief and dragged Luillin to a corner of the chapel.

“If you don’t have suitable accommodations… though it’s humble, you’re welcome to stay here…”

After checking on the children, Luines returned and repeatedly expressed her gratitude before making this offer.

“Would that really be all right?”

Luciri’s face brightened at the suggestion.

Despite the village of Somern having two inns, both were fully booked, leaving Leo and Luciri without a place to rest.

“We can use a room at the Edenrevan Regiment branch, so please don’t worry about us.”

Luillin, perhaps trying to ease their burden, cut in with this explanation—but her blunt delivery came across poorly.

“Luillin. Even with good intentions, how you express something affects how it’s received. In situations like this…”

Luciri gently pointed this out while explaining, resembling an older sister guiding a younger one.

Though Luciri herself might have seemed overly confident or proud to some, she appeared quite self-aware.

“Then at least join us for a meal… It won’t be anything special, but I truly want to treat you all.”

“Well…”

Unfamiliar with such hospitality, Luillin glanced our way as if seeking guidance.

“We’d be delighted. But since there are many of us, we’ll bring the ingredients ourselves.”

“Oh no, you don’t need to go that far…”

Only after considerable effort persuading Luines, who repeatedly tried to decline, were we finally able to leave the chapel.

“Still enjoying your charitable streak, I see.”

“Because for someone, that kindness becomes joy, comfort, and a cherished memory.”

Bread given to the hungry,

Compared to bread handed to the well-fed, is like the difference between gold and a common stone.

…That’s something Mother often said while devoted to her volunteer work and donations.

She insisted we should never treat even a single loaf of bread carelessly.

Those who have plenty often forget, or never realized,

That even the smallest kindness can bring immense happiness to someone else.

But those who receive must also never forget,

How precious that gift truly is.

That it isn’t their right or something to be taken for granted.

That it represents someone’s precious blessing, infused with dedication and effort.

That they must use that grace to build a better tomorrow.

“But when people grow accustomed to receiving help… when are they supposed to become self-reliant?”

“Accept that not everyone matures at your pace. Not everyone is as exceptional as you.”

“That sounds like a compliment, but somehow it feels backhanded.”

“It is a compliment. But just as there are modest wildflowers and dazzling blossoms, everyone is different.”

Some flowers take longer to bloom, while others blossom overnight.

Some endure every storm without faltering,

While others wither quickly in extreme heat or cold—just like plants and flowers.

“If you can’t accept those differences, all that remains is constant conflict. Ultimately, imposing your will and opinion means suppressing someone else’s.”

“You’ve gone serious on me again. Does this really warrant a lecture?”

“…Do as you please.”

Perhaps he’s right.

Maybe I am treating her too much like an adult.

Perhaps unconsciously, I had expectations and was pushing her toward them, disguised as casual lessons.

“……”

Is this arrogance?

Or pride?

Or something else entirely…

…

Upon arriving at the Edenrevan Regiment’s branch building, I finally acted on what I’d been contemplating.

“So you’re finally planning to repair that sword?”

Luillin remarked as I picked up the bent sword.

“…Yes, I should.”

There’s no special significance behind it.

…But if I intend to keep carrying it, I might as well have it fixed.

Or simply discard it altogether.

***

Far beyond the village of Somern lay a burial ground, with a small cemetery and columbarium sharing the same area nearby.

Originally, after a single cemetery was established, people began burying their dead in this area as if by unspoken agreement, leading to its current function.

Since burial customs varied by religion, the cemetery had naturally subdivided into distinct sections, despite technically being one site.

The local lord governing this region was known for his relative tolerance in such matters.

Called a Yarl in their culture, he would be equivalent to a Count in the Empire’s hierarchy.

But one cannot view him entirely through that lens.

Even though the Empire pioneered and systematized the noble hierarchy, those standards remain specific to the Empire.

For these people, a Yarl—representing chieftain, lord, war leader, and warrior simultaneously—was a crucial title forming the bedrock of governance for the Ice Sea Sand peoples.

Because of this, despite having a monarchy, the kingdom was often mistakenly characterized as a tribal society rather than a feudal state.

While the Dabass Kingdom officially rejected this characterization,

Metran, interestingly, neither confirmed nor denied it outright.

Regardless, Lutengar, the Yarl ruling this region, was a generous lord who generally tolerated each village’s autonomy and cultural practices.

As long as taxes were paid, respect shown, and conscription orders followed when necessary.

Naturally, they too conducted periodic hunts for monsters, during which they mustered forces and reaffirmed loyalty.

This explained why, beyond the vigilante corps, Somern Village maintained a formal guard force.

Though fewer than a hundred in number, they were recognized as professional soldiers—career military personnel.

Venus headed toward one such place.

A weathered hut located some distance from the cemetery.

Upon entering, rather than warmth, a chill greeted him.

“Haa…”

Though the sun hadn’t fully set, the interior was gloomier than expected.

“You’ve arrived?”

A man, just lowering a wooden cup from his lips, habitually tapped his gray mustache with his knuckle as he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Did you expect me to get knocked down somewhere?”

“Tch, you simply cannot endure polite speech, can you.”

“Just say what you need to say.”

“What did you think?”

“……”

Venus’s expression contorted sharply.

“Yousef. Don’t deliberately provoke me. Just state your business.”

“This is part of my business.”

“Perhaps you should be more selective about whom you antagonize.”

“Hmm? That’s antagonizing you? I merely asked your impression. How does that qualify as provocation?”

“……”

The balding, pot-bellied man played dumb, rubbing his head.

“He’s nothing like us.”

“Well, obviously.”

“He’s fundamentally different. And that sword, as I’ve maintained all along, belongs to me.”

To this, Yousef responded not mockingly, but with what seemed like genuine curiosity:

“Yet you can’t even draw it.”

“If it’s drawn, I’ll simply cut off whatever hands hold it and take it for myself.”

“What are you, a child throwing a tantrum over a lost toy?”

“What did you just say?”

“Hahaha.”

He laughed as he drank, feigning ignorance.

As much as Venus longed to kill him on the spot…

Even that man had once followed the same master.

Some had recognized the truth and turned away.

But scum like him, knowing the truth, still chose to remain in place.

…If not for that connection,

Venus would have killed him long ago.

“Why was Luelde’s son chosen?”

“That’s for the gods alone to know. Or perhaps Lord Grandeus foresaw it.”

“……”

“If even Rupert doesn’t know, what chance do we have?”

Even Rupert, who had directly inherited tools for glimpsing the future from Grandeus himself, understood only fragments.

And even then, he frequently erred.

Even when receiving prophecies and visions, his interpretation and understanding were… lacking in many respects.

That’s precisely why Yousef, a ten-year companion, remained by his side.

Not merely to worship him, but to ensure the prophecy manifested in the desired form.

That was Yousef’s role.

Simultaneously, he had amassed considerable wealth through that prophecy.

Using that wealth, he extended his eyes, ears, and hands throughout various places.

“Everyone has their assigned role.”

Even Grandeus himself once declared:

I am but a messenger.

I am one who passes knowledge forward.

I could never become an executioner, revolutionary, or judge.

But my successors, should they desire it, may become such.

“……”

However,

That excluded Yousef, Rupert, and their associates.

Even among the remaining Relief Knights, each likely had a designated role,

But perhaps they differed little from the beasts that pulled carts and wagons.

“You provided sufficient warning, I trust?”

“…Yes.”

Normally, news wouldn’t have reached here so swiftly.

But it had, because someone arranged it.

The man before him.

And now he asks what? That they should provide ample warning to allow preparation? That they should exchange pleasantries while they’re at it?

He’s clearly deranged.

“Why is that bastard connected to the Demon King? And which Demon King is it this time? There’s news of Demon Kings emerging across the continent!”

“I know no more than you on that matter. I’ve merely pieced together rumors that reached me.”

“Let’s assume that’s true. Why are there suddenly rumors of Demon Kings surfacing throughout the Middle Realm? Is that your doing as well?”

“Don’t be absurd. Don’t cast me as some grandiose conspirator. You’re young, so perhaps you don’t understand—what a single person can accomplish is severely limited. Even getting that boy to leave the capital… I consider that miraculous.”

“……”

“Seeing how many collaborators emerged… perhaps even without my intervention, it was simply his destiny. Personally, I pity the child. That’s genuine.”

Venus snorted with disgust.

“How pathetic.”

“Still… I genuinely cannot fathom why the boy came here specifically. Without some form of guidance, how would he know to seek this place? Is this also prophecy’s influence? It makes little sense.”

Yousef’s words contradicted themselves even as he spoke them.

But for those damned individuals who navigated by prophecy’s light, such self-contradiction was hardly unusual.

After Grandeus’s death, the Relief Knights splintered.

Now only three factions remained.

Venus belonged to the First Star faction, while Yousef and Rupert were part of the so-called Snake Eye faction.

And finally, those lunatics who, despite knowing the truth, claimed to perpetuate the noble will—

The Redeemer faction.

Including the Redeemers among the Relief Knights seemed ridiculous, but what could be done if they insisted?

No, more precisely, they claimed that they alone were the true Relief Knights—utterly absurd.

Unless every last one of them were eliminated, silencing their nonsense would remain impossible.

…And since they hadn’t been purged, they continued to exist prominently among the various factions.

Yet even they anxiously awaited the prophecy’s fulfillment,

That Grandeus’s sword would soon be drawn, and his successor would emerge.

…From the perspective of someone like Venus, stuck in this region like a native, desperately attempting to draw the sword with each cycle, they were all contemptible, irritating vermin.

“The Redeemers appear genuinely pleased with Cariel’s progress and chosen path.”

“…I should have annihilated them completely.”

Those insufferable hypocrites.

With their narrow-minded conception of justice.

Pretenders who fancy themselves righteous while believing they perform good deeds—outlaws wrapped in their own pathetic delusions.

Utterly contemptible. Genuinely repulsive.

“It seems your ideals have grown as warped as ours, if not more so. Perhaps it’s time you acknowledged that.”

“What exactly is wrong with my determination to eradicate the privatization of force?”

Corrupt power structures.

The atrocities of invading Demon King armies.

They’re identical in essence.

Shouldn’t corrupt authority be dismantled precisely as we deal with the Demon King’s forces?

Without leaving a single trace.

“Power and authority are instinctive drives shared by all living beings, humans included. Even if you suppress one manifestation, another will inevitably arise. Thus, your crusade ultimately accomplishes nothing.”

Even while astonished by beliefs more twisted than their own, Yousef couldn’t help but marvel at the absurdity of such futile ambition—like attempting to empty the sea with one’s hands or clear a desert grain by grain.

The child who should have become a Hero met Grandeus, and after witnessing his savior’s death at the hands of the era’s greatest Hero,

He grew to despise heroes.

That’s why that boy could never become one.

Despite possessing, more than anyone, the qualities necessary.

…This too,

‘Must be fate.’

Yousef tilted his cup.

Though empty for some time,

He continued the motion habitually, almost ritually.

‘My apologies…’

But it cannot be helped.

Cariel. Whether soon or eventually,

When that boy inevitably uncovers the truth behind all the malice and conspiracies directed at him,

And recognizes that Yousef and Rupert played their part,

Should he come to hate them and ultimately kill them,

Yousef had already resigned himself to accept it.

‘If that’s what it takes to realize our wish…’

He would gladly die a hundred times over.

Having lived through the most horrific era and lost everything because of it.

To him, the world—then and now—remained stained with blood, covered in ash.

What difference would one more drop of blood make?

There was nothing left to fear.