Chapter 78 – I Dream of a Hand at My Nape (1)

“So you’ve been watching.”

Objects and places retaining memories, he had experienced that before.

But this time, it was surely the memory the sword itself had seen and heard.

– You, of all people, are not worthy to hold me.

A voice rang out.

– Even if you resolve to sacrifice something precious. Even if you’re ready to wager your own life. I will not permit you.

“……”

After that, only the wind howled in his ears.

He wasn’t sure if it was the sword that had spoken or if it was simply a hallucination.

The voice had vanished.

When he stepped away from where the sword was, the next to arrive was an elderly man who clutched the sword and bowed his head as if in prayer, mumbling something under his breath.

“Worthy, huh.”

What gave it the authority to make that judgment?

He was curious.

And yet it had said, you, specifically, were unworthy.

As if it had identified him alone.

It rejected even the notion of him offering his life or making a sacrifice.

If it wasn’t a delusion or a hallucination, then that was clearly a rejection.

“……”

From a desolate cliff overlooking the village, where no ears could listen, 

Almost the moment he arrived in this hollow place that felt like an edge, he asked:

“What do you think?”

– I don’t know either.

Still indifferent. Still irresponsible.

“It rejected me because it knew something. And… why does the sword even speak?”

– If something’s dwelling inside it, maybe that’s why. Or maybe something came to dwell in it. Haven’t you heard stories like that?

Not the answer he wanted.

It didn’t solve anything.

“…So it’s up to me to find the answer? No, I shouldn’t have asked something I knew would be pointless.”

– Well, if you know, then rack your brain. Maybe your bet wasn’t big enough. Maybe you haven’t met the requirements. There could be lots of reasons. There always are.

Who was it that told him to retrieve it in the first place?

He exhaled through clenched frustration and stood there for a while.

‘Worthy, huh.’

What did it mean?

What was that sword so dissatisfied with that it would reject him?

…Let’s change the way we think.

Why reject?

Or rather, for what purpose?

That sword, once wielded by Grandeus until the end, had been freed of its duty with his death.

Was that freedom?

Or was it parting? Bereavement?

Does it mean it only ever had one true master?

But then that premise would be strange.

‘You, of all people, are not worthy to hold me. That’s what it said, right?’

Those words, 

Don’t they imply that someone is worthy?

That the rejection was aimed at Cariel specifically?

Or is it waiting for its true master or companion?

The sword that had been stuck in place for nearly twenty years, was it still watching, waiting for its chance?

Waiting for the one who possessed the proper qualifications?

Maybe years from now.

Maybe decades. Maybe not until after a hundred years.

If that’s true, then this simply isn’t the time?

“……”

If that’s the case, 

Then should he just accept that and quietly leave this place, this spot?

Then what?

What would he have left?

‘Nothing.’

No, there was one thing.

Find some hole to hide in, train his body, and fully master what he’d gained.

But, 

Would that alone let him stand equal with his father?

With just that, 

Could he defeat those who loathed and opposed him, and carve out a life of no humiliation, no submission, with no regrets?

The answer was no.

Especially now, when he was tangled up in this vile mess involving the Demon King and everything else.

He didn’t believe Alessia would’ve revealed it and caused him trouble.

…Even if she had, he didn’t intend to resent her.

Confessing had been her own choice.

And the consequences were her to bear.

Even if she changed her mind because of the “Demon King” revelation and turned against him, 

…So be it.

That was why, even when he read in Philbar’s letter that the rumor was spreading everywhere, 

…He hadn’t suspected her.

There was simply no need to.

So let’s change the premise.

If not her, then who?

Could someone have overheard him?

That was possible.

But if he ruled that out too?

“……”

What if, someone knew about him without his knowledge? Someone specific?

And from there, 

That cursed bastard who spoke of prophecy came immediately to mind.

But it wasn’t him.

Venus.

He was a blade. A weapon honed and ready to strike Cariel.

Which meant he wasn’t the kind to weave schemes, manipulate information, or move with cunning.

“Then the answer is…”

When you want the answer the most, 

That’s when it hides the deepest.

And without thought, without preparation, 

Whether it’s fate or destiny or someone else’s plan, you’ll end up pushed along like a pawn.

That role, 

Is no different from a puppet. Or a slave.

Whether prisoner or scapegoat, it’s all the same.

“Guess the answer was obvious.”

– What is it?

“…If I had the kind of heart to just accept rejection from a mere sword, I wouldn’t be struggling like this. I’d have accepted fate, lived however, and died however. That would’ve been enough.”

Don’t leave your fate in someone else’s hands.

Surrendering it is even worse.

That’s a fundamental truth.

What had Venus said, even after being told that sword would never be his?

If I kill the one who draws it, then it’s mine. Wasn’t that what he said?

A bold answer.

So simple, it bordered on absurdity.

And because of that, it came closer to the truth.

“……”

Of course, 

It wasn’t like he intended to try something like that.

Quite the opposite.

If asked whether he was the type to cling to something that didn’t want him, 

…Then no.

He’d rather fight, resist, and defy.

Because submission and obedience, 

…Were never why he reached for the sword.

“I’ll stay only until tomorrow.”

If it still doesn’t come to me by then, 

“…Then I’ll be the one to reject it.”

– That’s unexpected. You could’ve chosen to keep trying, to win its heart or prove your worth.

“Do I look that optimistic to you?”

There was no time.

Not figuratively, literally.

He wasn’t in a position to wait around without worry, unaware of being hunted.

At any moment, someone might leap out to decide his fate.

And, 

If word of his situation had somehow reached the upper echelons of the Empire, 

“Then someone will be on their way.”

If Elhermina was truly serious about taking hold of him this time, 

Would he be able to escape her grasp?

But for her to appear in person would come with considerable risk.

That’s why the Empire had no shortage of talents to act on her behalf.

If any of them came, would he be able to refuse their unfair terms?

And in the worst-case scenario, 

…If his father were the one to arrive.

“……”

A quiet laugh slipped out.

If they were to reunite like that, 

What kind of conversation could they possibly have?

It stirred a hint of curiosity, sure.

But more than that, with cold sweat trickling from beneath his skin, 

He was wrapped in a suffocating absurdity that squeezed what little courage he had left.

If they ever came face-to-face and that man didn’t simply give up, 

Escape would be impossible.

There would be no other option.

The outcome was so predictable, it was almost comical.

“Yeah. Looking back, I really don’t have much time left.”

Even if he did manage to grasp that sword, 

…It would still be meaningless if he had to face his father.

He wouldn’t die, no.

But the moment he was dragged along by that man’s will, 

He’d have to face everything he’d given up on, with bitter resolve.

All the things he’d cast aside, suppressed, and tried to forget, 

He’d have to confront them all again.

That, above all else, was unbearable.

Why had he so firmly rejected Elhermina’s indiscriminate pressure and pleading back then?

“……”

Because he hadn’t truly let go of anything.

He hadn’t overcome anything. He hadn’t even steeled himself to face it.

That’s why he couldn’t face it now, either.

Not yet.

To keep being himself, to stay standing as Cariel, 

They were still, 

His deepest, darkest wounds. His scars.

His most horrific nightmares.

Even now, 

…He dreamed of them grasping the back of his neck.

* * *

A woman was rummaging through the corpses scattered across the plains.

Looting bodies was a cursed act in any age, but as long as no one saw, it hardly mattered.

Besides, she was the very person who’d turned those living men into corpses, so she moved with even less hesitation.

“This must be it.”

She had pale platinum hair and clear, transparent blue eyes.

Her skin was so fair it evoked thoughts of elves, and her beauty rivaled theirs.

A tall, well-formed nose.

Delicate lips.

Well-shaped brows and eyes. Even without expression, her appearance was as pristine and orderly as a finely carved statue or work of art.

Her platinum hair just barely brushed her shoulders, but her bangs had been cut short, likely because she didn’t like hair around her eyes, barely grazing her brows and further emphasizing her tidy impression.

From the chest of a particularly burly man clad in layers of leather and chains, she pulled out a sheet of leather parchment.

“Vellum, huh.”

Paper’s durability and use varied depending on region and nation.

Within the Empire, paper production was widespread and common, but that was their business.

She carefully scanned the contents, then rolled the vellum back up and tucked it inside her deep violet cloak.

“If even scum like this are receiving requests… then this is more like a bounty hunt.”

While someone else would do the actual capturing, hands and feet had been scattered far and wide just in case.

Naturally, this kind of operation required astronomical funding, something not just anyone could afford.

“Still, good thing there wasn’t anything unusual.”

“What’re you mumbling to yourself about?”

“Gah,”

Though she reacted like she’d been startled, her tone was as flat as ever.

A wolf-headed man brushed through his thick brown fur as he asked.

Though the fur beneath his chin was white, not brown, possibly from dust, ash, or soaked blood, it looked rather grimy, or maybe just unnaturally pale.

“You’re back? How was it over there?”

“How else? Same as this lot.”

The wolf man gestured with his eyes toward the corpse beneath her.

“For a mercenary company, they were pitifully small.”

“This area isn’t in open conflict. If you want a big-name company, you’d have to search a war zone.”

“…And what if the war’s already over by the time we get there?”

“Then that’s why staying updated matters, right?”

She smiled sweetly, and the wolf man let out a halfhearted, gruff laugh.

“So looting this lot was worth it?”

“Of course. Just selling their gear would probably earn a few years of a serf’s income.”

“Why’s your standard always serfs…”

He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or argue.

“This is rightful punishment for those who’ve sinned. And getting bonus income from their gear and possessions? That’s proper compensation.”

“…Let’s just hope the corpses don’t get so resentful they come back to life.”

“Then I’ll kill them again.”

Her words, despite the pleasant smile, were alarmingly ruthless.

No malice. No hostility.

And yet she could commit acts of such brutality without blinking, she had to be twisted.

And if such a twisted being was also powerful?

Then she was nothing short of a disaster.

“So that’s Somern village over there? What is it that’s drawing all these half-breeds like flies? Isn’t it about time you told me?”

“Curious, are you?”

As she playfully shook the vellum document, flashing a smile, the wolf-headed man snatched it from her and pretended to read before asking:

“…What’s it say?”

“That the disgraced son of the Great Hero is in that village. If we secure him, the reward will be hefty. That sort of thing.”

“Great Hero. You mean one of the Nine Heroes? One of their brats?”

“Yes.”

The wolf man whistled.

“So what, did a prince or princess show up there? Why? To that place?”

“I wouldn’t know. And… it’s not a royal bloodline. It’s the Blood of Radiance.”

“The Blood of Radiance? That’s… wait, don’t tell me, …?!”

“Yes. That’s right.”

She smiled gently.

“If it’s the child of that Knight of Radiance, it’s not hard to guess who it is, right?”

“…The one they called a heaven-sent prodigy in childhood, only to become a complete disaster as he grew up?”

“Who knows? Rumors are always exaggerated, after all.”

“Ases. Don’t tell me you’re going after him too?”

The wolf man asked seriously.

But Ases only widened her vivid blue eyes and smiled brightly.

“Of course not. If anything, it’s the opposite.”

“Huh? Opposite?”

“Geheven. To make a fortune, you have to move opposite from everyone else.”

Before long, dwarves and beastkin arrived pulling carts, sorting through the corpses and loading anything useful.

The bodies were stripped bare in an instant, returned to a near-primal state.

The rest would likely be dealt with by the wild beasts that roamed nearby or claimed the area as their territory.

And she, stood watching the scene with a look of quiet amusement.

She looked young enough to be mistaken for a girl at a glance.

“And besides… it’s not like I have no ties to that person.”

With a cryptic smile, she took the reins of the horse led over by a gray-furred rabbit beastkin and added:

“If things go well, you could end up with quite the haul. I guarantee it.”