Chapter 4: Congregated Men
Part 1
Lower Fire Month (9th Month) 3rd Day 04:01
Brain’s accumulated fatigue hit him all at once, and so he slept for almost a full day upon entering Gazef’s home. He woke up to eat a little, and then went right back to bed.
He did not wish to admit it, but he could rest easy in Gazef’s home because he felt safe there. He knew that even his rival Gazef could not endure a single blow from that Shalltear, yet the home of his former nemesis was now the safest place in the world for him. It relieved his tension and allowed him to sleep soundly.
Light fell across Brain’s face through the slats of the louvred window.
The light woke Brain from his dreamless sleep.
He opened his eyes, but the piercing rays made him squint them again. He reached his hand out to block the sunlight.
Brain propped himself up on one arm and then swung his legs over so he was sitting on the side of the bed. He looked around the room like a frightened mouse. The plain room only had the bare minimum of furniture in it, and Brain’s wargear was piled up in a corner of the room.
“Is this the room which the Kingdom’s Warrior-Captain uses to receive guests?”
As Brain looked around the empty room, he let a few biting words fall from his lips as the lack of people put him at ease. Then, he stretched himself, and his joints made cracking noises as his stiff body relaxed and the blood circulated through his body once more.
A huge yawn escaped him.
“…He must have let his people stay the night here in the past, no? They must have felt so disappointed.”
The reason why royalty and nobility led such luxurious lives was not simply because they enjoyed it. It was also for vanity’s sake; to protect their image.
Similarly, when the men saw their leader’s opulent lifestyle, it would spur their desire to make a name for themselves and give them motivation.
“…No, it’s not my place to say such things,” Brain mumbled. Then he snorted; but it was directed at himself and not Gazef.
It must have been because he had been pulled back from the brink of madness, the place where he had nearly been driven by those twin mental shocks. To think he would actually be thinking about such trivial matters.
As Brain thought about that powerful monster, he found that he could not stop the tremors in his hand.
“As I thought…”
The terror which clung to his heart had not been removed yet.
Shalltear Bloodfallen.
A figure of absolute power, one whom even Brain — who had abandoned everything else in pursuit of sword skills — could not possibly match. She was a monster among monsters; yet one whose looks were the sum total of all the beauty in the world. She was a person who wielded true power.
A thrill of fear shot through his heart at the mere memory of her.
He had lived in constant terror of that monster’s pursuit, and once he had reached the road to the Royal Capital he had not slept or even rested, only fleeing for his life. The spectre of Shalltear appeared before him when he did sleep, and the night seemed to take her shape as he ran along the roads. Crushed under this disquiet, he had not been able to get a good night’s rest. All he could do was run like there was nothing else in the world for him.
He had chosen to flee to the Royal Capital because he believed that he could lose himself among the masses of people there and throw her off his trail. However, he had not expected the heavy toll which his gruelling flight had taken on him, or the lack of self-preservation which had developed as a result.
Meeting Gazef was an unexpected development. Perhaps Brain imagined that Gazef could eliminate Shalltear, and so his legs had unconsciously brought him in search of his rival. Yet, he had not found his answer.
“What should I do now…”
He had nothing.
He opened his hands, and they were empty.
He looked at his wargear in the corner of the room.
He had obtained a 「Katana」in order to triumph over Gazef. Yet, what would he do after beating Gazef? He now knew that there was a being several orders of magnitude more powerful than himself. If he could not defeat said being, what was the point of triumphing over those who were beneath it?
“I should probably go take up the plow instead… it would probably be more meaningful.”
Then, Brain sensed someone outside just as he was about to mock himself.
“Unglaus, are you awake? …You should be, right?”
That voice belonged to the owner of this home.
“Ah, Stronoff. I’m up.”
The door opened and Gazef entered the room. He was fully outfitted in his battle panoply.
“You sure slept for a long time. I was shocked by how deeply you were sleeping.”
“Yeah, thanks for letting me be. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it. However, I need to head out to the Palace right now. Tell me about what happened after I come back.”
“…It’s pretty bad, you know? You might end up like me.”
“Even so, I have to listen. I guess it ought to be better if we drank while we talked to lighten the mood… Treat this place as your home until I get back. Ask the household help if you want to eat anything, they ought to be able to throw something together for you. And if you want to head out… you’ve got money, right?”
“…No. But… If I need anything, I can sell my magic items.”
Brain showed Gazef the rings he was wearing.
“Is that really okay? They’re not cheap, right?”
“It’s fine. I don’t care.”
He had bought these items to defeat Gazef. Now that he knew there was no point in doing so, what meaning was there in treasuring these trinkets?
“High-priced items can be hard to sell at times. The buyer does need to raise the money, after all. Here, take this.”
Gazef tossed him a small cloth pouch. Brain caught it, and heard the sound of metal clinking from inside.
“…Sorry about this. I’ll be borrowing this for now, then.”
Part 2
Lower Fire Month (9th Month) 3rd Day 10:31
Sebas strolled leisurely as he pondered how to deal with the five people who had been following him ever since he had left his home. He believed that moving his body would lift his mood and help him think of a good idea.
Soon, he saw a crowd of people jamming up the road in front of him.
The sound coming from them was either vicious cursing or mocking laughter, accompanied by the sound of something striking something else. Cries along the lines of “Someone’s going to die” and “Better get the guards” rose up from them.
The crowd blocked his line of sight, but he was certain that some kind of violence was in progress.
Sebas thought that perhaps he should change his path and take another path. He hesitated for a moment — and then he continued straight onwards.
His path took him into the center of the crowd.
“Excuse me.”
Sebas wove through the onlookers with those words and reached the center of the crowd.
The sight of an old man moving with a bizarre, fluid grace shocked and unnerved the onlookers, and the people who saw Sebas passing before them were stunned with surprise.
There seemed to be someone else trying to get to the heart of the crowd other than Sebas. Said person went, “Excuse me”, but he could not advance through the throng of humanity and was stuck, unable to advance or retreat.
Sebas stepped into the center of the congregation with no difficulty, and there he saw what was going on with his own eyes.
Several unkempt-looking men were kicking and stomping on something.
Sebas moved on without a single sound, stopping only when he was within arms’ reach of the men.
“Fuck you doing, old man?!”
One of the five men had noticed Sebas approaching and snarled at him.
“This place seemed a little noisy so, I came to take a look.”
“You want a piece of this?!”
The men ran over to surround Sebas. As they left their original positions, they revealed the object they had been kicking around all this time. It looked like a boy. He was curled up on the ground and bleeding from his face. It was unclear if the blood came from his mouth or his nose.
Apparently the boy had passed out after being brutalized for so long, but he still looked like he was breathing.
Sebas looked at the men. The smell of alcohol hung about their mouths and bodies. Their faces were flushed red, but not from the exertion of physical activity.
Had they lost control of their violent impulses because they were drunk?
Sebas had a blank expression on his face as he asked:
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but don’t you think it’s time to stop?”
“Hah?! This punk got his food all over my shirt! How could I let that slide?”
One of the man pointed to a spot on his shirt. It did look like a stain. However, the men’s clothes were filthy to begin with. That being the case, the stain was hardly obvious.
Sebas looked at the one who seemed to be the boss of the five young men. The difference might have been too subtle for an ordinary human being to detect, but Sebas — who had a warrior’s keen sensory perceptions — was able to pick him out.
“Still… public safety in this city is quite bad.”
“Ah?!”
Sebas spoke as though he had just confirmed something he had observed from afar. The men thought he had trivialized them and made noises of displeasure.
“…Begone.”
“Ah? The fuck you say, old man?”
“I’ll say it again – begone.”
“Damn geezer!”
The boss-like man flushed red and clenched his fist — and then he collapsed limply to the ground.
Sounds of shock came from all around them, including the four remaining men.
What Sebas had done was simple enough. He had simply formed his hand into a fist and struck a blow at the man’s chin — albeit at a speed which humans would be hard-pressed to even see. That had given the man a high-speed brain concussion. He could also have sent the man flying with imperceptible speed, but that would not have served to frighten the others. Thus, he had held back in his strike.
“Do you still wish to fight?” Sebas quietly said.
His calm and strength cut through the men’s intoxication. They backed several steps off and chorused an apology.
Sebas thought, you’re apologizing to the wrong person, but he did not actually say it.
The men grabbed their unconscious colleague and fled. Sebas did not bother watching them and instead went over to the fallen boy. However, he stopped in his tracks halfway.
What was he doing?
Right now, he ought to be dealing with the problem he was facing. Only a fool would go and take more problems onto himself at a time like this. Had he not ended up in this precarious state because he was too sympathetic and acted without thinking?
In any case, the boy had been saved. He would have to be satisfied with that.
That thought crossed Sebas’ mind, but he still headed toward the boy. He touched the immobile boy’s back and infused a bit of ki into him. Channelling the full measure of his ki would probably heal all his wounds immediately, but that would be far too eye-catching.
Thus, Sebas did the bare minimum necessary, and then he pointed to someone who happened to meet his eyes.
“…Please take this boy to the temple. His ribs might be broken, so please take care when loading him onto a board for transport, and don’t shake him too much.”
The man Sebas had ordered nodded, and then Sebas strode forth. He did not need to push to the crowd, because they cleared out of his way when he took a step forward.
Sebas continued ahead once more. Before long, he sensed that the number of presences following him had increased.
However, there was one problem — namely, the identity of his tails.
The five people who had followed him from the house were most likely Succulent’s men. In that case, what about the two who had joined them in stalking him after he had saved the boy?
They seemed to be grown men by the sound of their footsteps and their pace, but he had no idea who they were.
“I can’t think of an answer. In any case… I should probably apprehend them first.”
Sebas turned a corner into a dimly-lit region. His followers remained on his trail.
“…Still, are they really hiding themselves?”
They had not concealed the sounds of their footsteps. Did they lack the ability to do so, or was there some other reason? He decided not to think overmuch on the matter. After all, he could verify the truth after capturing them. Sebas decided to make his move once he could no longer sense the presence of others around them.
Just then, a hoarse — but youthful — male voice came from one of the people who had been following him.
“—Excuse me.”
Part 3
Lower Fire Month (9th Month) 3rd Day 10:27
Climb was thinking on his way back to the Royal Palace.
He thought about the battle he had fought with Gazef that morning, replaying the fight in his mind over and over again and considering how to fight with greater skill. What tactics will I try if I get another chance, he thought.
Just as Climb slowly reached his conclusion, he saw a group of people huddled up in front of him. Angry cries came from them, and two guards watched from afar, unsure of what to do.
The sounds of an argument came from the center of group, and it did not sound like an ordinary squabble.
Climb’s expression turned cold, and he walked up beside the guards.
“What are you doing?”
The guard jumped in fright, given that someone had called out to him from behind, and he turned to look at Climb.
The man wore a chain shirt and carried a spear. He wore a surcoat emblazoned with the Kingdom’s crest on top of the chain shirt. This was the standard uniform of the average guard in the Kingdom, but Climb could sense that neither of the people in front of him was well-trained.
To begin with, neither of them had honed physiques. For that matter, they were also unshaven and their chain shirts had not been polished. A faint air of grime hung about them and they seemed quite slovenly in overall appearance.
“You are…”
Climb was younger than himself, so the guard responded to him with a tone that was a mix of bafflement and annoyance.
“I’m off-duty at the moment.”
Confusion spread across the guard’s face as he heard Climb’s staunchly insistent voice. Perhaps it was because he radiated an aura of superiority despite being younger than them.
The guards seemed to have concluded that they could not go wrong by taking a submissive posture, and they straightened up.
“Seems to be a civilian disturbance.”
Climb resisted the urge to castigate them by saying I knew that already. Unlike the Palace guards, the guards who patrolled the city were drawn from the civilian populace and were not well-trained. In truth, they were merely civilians who knew how to use weapons.
Climb turned his eyes from the nervous guards to the crowd. It would be quicker to settle the matter in person than wait for them to do anything.
While poking his nose into guard business might be considered an overstepping of his authority, he would not be able to face his beloved mistress if he simply stood by while a citizen was being ill-treated.
“You wait here.”
Without waiting for their reply, Climb firmed up his resolve and pushed into the crowd, forcefully thrusting his body in. While there were spaces between each person, he was unable to get through the through. No, it would not be normal for anyone to be able to do it.
He was nearly shoved back out, but he struggled to shove his way forward. This was when he heard a voice from the center of the crowd.
“…Begone.”
“Ah? The fuck you say, old man?”
“I’ll say it again – begone.”
“Damn geezer!”
This was bad.
Those thugs were not satisfied with the beating they had administered; now they wanted to strike an old man as well.
Climb’s face flushed red as he desperately shoved his way forward, and when he got through the crowd, he saw the figure of an old man before him. He was surrounded by a group of younger man. At their feet was a boy who had been beaten so badly he looked like a crumpled rag.
The old man was elegantly dressed, and gave off the feeling of being nobility or the servant of nobility. The men surrounding him were muscular and looked drunk. The villainous side was apparent at a glance.
One of the men — the one who looked the most muscular — clenched his fist. Compared to him, the old man seemed far inferior, be it in the sturdiness of their bodies, the bulging of their muscles, or their bloodthirsty brutality. Surely the younger man could easily send the old man flying with but a swing of his fist. The people around them realized this, and gasped in horror at the tragedy which was about to befall the old man.
Amidst all this, only Climb felt that something was strange.
Indeed, the younger man looked stronger. Yet, Climb could sense an aura of absolute power coming from the old man.
He froze for a moment, and lost his chance to curb the younger man’s violence. The man raised his fist—
—And then he collapsed limply to the ground
The people around Climb exclaimed in shock.
It would seem that the old man had made a fist and struck the other man square on his chin, at incredible speed. Even Climb’s honed vision could barely keep up with the swiftness of that blow.
“Do you still wish to fight?”
The old man directed this calm and grave question at the remaining men.
The combination of his inscrutable exterior and his calm tone broke through the men’s drunkenness. No — even the people around them had been frightened by his presence. The men had lost all will to fight.
“Er, um. We, we’re sorry.”
The men backed up and chorused an apology, and then they grabbed their colleague — who had been disgracefully laid out on the ground — and fled with their tails between their legs. Climb did not think about following those men. After all, the old man’s ramrod-straight posture, with his chest upthrust, had stolen his heart and left him frozen in place.
He looked like a masterwork blade. It was a sight that would fill any warrior who saw it with reverence. Small wonder that he could not move.
The old man patted the fallen boy’s back, as though examining his wounds, and then he ordered a passer-by to get the boy to treatment before striding off. The crowd cleared a path for the old man to walk. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on his back, such was the allure of the old man’s presence.
Climb hurried over to the fallen boy and then took out the potion Gazef had given him after their training session.
“Can you drink this?”
There was no answer. He had fainted dead away.
Cimb opened the bottle and poured the liquid on the boy’s body. Many people believed that potions had to be drunk, but the fact was that it would work even when splashed on the flesh. Magic was truly great.
The boy’s skin seemed to absorb the liquid as it disappeared into his body, and the color returned to the boy’s face.
Climb nodded in relief.
As the crowd realized Climb had just used an expensive item like that potion, they were every bit as awed by him as they were by the old man’s preternatural skill.
Climb did not regret using the potion. Having taken the people’s taxes, it was only natural that he — as one who lived on said taxes — should protect them and maintain public order. He felt that he ought to be able to do that much, even if he could not defend the people.
The boy ought to be alright now that Climb had given him the potion, but it would be best for him to go to the temple just to be safe. He looked to the guards standing by and noticed that the pair had become a trio. Apparently someone had arrived late.
The crowd had been tossing critical glances at the guards ever since just now.
Climb addressed a very uncomfortable-looking guard:
“Take this boy to the temple.”
“What happened to him…?”