“It’s a nice view.”
Kyle, who had taken a seat by the window, smiled at the scenery outside. His cheerful voice caught the attention of Ruon, who was sitting across from him. Ruon glanced through the slightly open window.
Under the red sky where the sun was beginning to set, a lush road and a stream were visible. The leaves of the majestic birch trees, which stretched their branches as if to touch the water, swayed with the wind.
It was a peaceful landscape that suited the tranquil evening.
Strabo, who was too short to see well outside, craned his neck and said.
“Are those birch trees? Should we peel off some of their bark later? If we dry it and brew it into tea, it can act as a painkiller.”
Kyle shrugged his shoulders.
“Do we need a painkiller when we have Igor? All he has to do is put on a bandage and say a prayer. Right?”
At that, Igor, who had been resting his chin on one hand, glared at him with wide eyes.
“That’s a reckless thing to say. How can you compare asking Mother for a miracle to haggling for fruit at the market?”
“Really? I don’t know any better.”
Kyle, who scratched his head awkwardly, turned to Ruon, who was still looking out the window, and asked cautiously.
“Hey, Ruon?”
Ruon turned his head, who had been watching a young woman holding a lyre in her arms walk along the road toward the inn.
“Did you call me?”
Kyle bit his lower lip, as if he was unsure what to say.
“Is there still no reaction from the holy sword?”
At that question, Igor and Strabo stopped talking and turned their heads slightly.
Before Ruon could answer, the owner came over and put some drinks and food on the table.
The owner pointed to the cooked pork with a gleeful expression.
“This is a dish made with fresh meat that I got from the butcher today. The meat is tender and the taste is of course…”
He backed away with a sheepish expression when he saw that the group had no interest in his food.
Then Ruon opened his mouth.
“I’m glad there’s no reaction.”
He untied the sword sheath from his waist and leaned it on the table. Then he lifted the handle slightly.
Igor made a low sound as he saw the sword blade that was slightly exposed above the sheath.
“…It’s gotten worse.”
The sword blade, which should have been faintly glowing, was stained with a sinister gray.
At that moment, a malicious whisper that Ruon couldn’t understand pierced his ear.
BringmetheheadsofyourmotherandfatherandfeastontheirweakfleshandIwillgiveyouunbelievablepower…
What a load of crap.
Ruon snapped the sword back into the sheath.
He secured the sword, which could no longer be called a holy sword, to his waist and quickly recalled the past few days.
It hadn’t started badly.
They had managed to get out of Bern safely, thanks to their quick movement before the situation got complicated.
The soldiers, who had been yawning all the time before the shift change, only threw a few formal words at the group who said they would pass through the gate as soon as dawn broke, and didn’t try to stop them.
Only one soldier, who was worth his pay, noticed the blood on Ruon’s face, who was wearing a cloak, and tried to say something, but Kyle gave him a few coins and he swallowed his doubts and shouted.
Pass-
The real problem erupted from an unexpected place. It was the holy sword.
The holy sword, which had absorbed the power of the apostle, seemed to have increased its power at first, but soon the sword blade began to cloud, and in the end it started to spew all kinds of profanities whenever he held it.
It was needless to say that it had lost its role as a guide.
It was a difficult situation for the group, who had believed that the holy sword would point to the location of Belthucias this time.
Igor bit his lip as he looked at the holy sword with a dismal expression.
“Even if it’s a holy relic blessed by Mother, was it too much to keep accumulating the power of the great demon? To fall so suddenly…”
“I don’t know.”
Ruon raised his hand to the owner, who was peeking at the group. The owner, who hesitated, came over and Ruon gave him a few silver coins.
“Do you have any strong liquor?”
“Uh, yes and no. Just wait a moment!”
The owner ran into the kitchen and soon came back with a bottle of pale yellow liquid.
“It’s a drink that helps you know how your organs are doing with just one sip. It’s incredibly spicy. The ingredients alone…”
Ruon pulled out the cork and drank the bottle without anyone stopping him. The pale yellow liquid was sucked into his mouth without a pause.
As soon as he finished the drink, Ruon slammed the empty bottle on the table with a bang, and the owner muttered with a stupid face.
“Are you okay? It’s a drink that makes people drunk with just two sips.”
Kyle laughed awkwardly and said.
“Ha ha… This friend is not in a good mood today. That’s why. Don’t worry too much and go do your work.”
“No, no, that’s not the important thing…”
The owner, who looked at Ruon’s face that didn’t change color at all, was startled when Ruon looked at him with cold eyes, and ran to the kitchen.
Kyle asked.
“Did you feel better?”
“Not really.”
Ruon shook his head lightly as he grabbed the hilt of the holy sword. As expected, a whisper came to his ears as if it had been waiting for him.
It was the same nonsense as before, about how he should skin him alive while he was still fresh.
He didn’t know if it was because of the [Demon Judge]’s influence, but he didn’t feel any direct impact from that voice. Still, it made him feel disgusted.
Ruon said.
“If I leave it alone any longer, it might as well be called a demon sword. I need to do something about it before that happens.”
Igor nodded in agreement.
“It would be hard to get help from a small church. We should go to a temple or a large church. Even if it’s not the place where we honor Mother, we can’t be picky.”
That’s when Strabo, who had been silent until then, coughed loudly.
At that sound, Ruon turned his gaze to Strabo and noticed that the meat was getting cold. He opened his mouth.
“Let’s eat first.”
“Ah, no, that’s not it…”
Strabo waved his hands hastily and sighed as if the ground was collapsing. He stuttered.
“…That sword, there might be a way to fix it…”
No one in the party expected to hear such words from Strabo’s mouth, so they all opened their mouths at the same time, as if they were shocked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Strabo, are you serious?”
“Are you lying?”
The dwarf, who enjoyed being the center of attention, closed his eyes tightly as if he felt the pressure of their gazes.
He pressed his temples lightly with his thumbs and licked his lips slowly.
“My family runs a forge that’s about ten days away from here…”
He trailed off, sounding unlike his usual self. Ruon asked him without hesitation.
“Are you talking about Roverduke?”
“Ah, do you know it?”
Ruon nodded.
“I went there once to get some equipment. I couldn’t get in because I didn’t qualify, though.”
As he said that, Ruon recalled the dwarf city he had visited a long time ago.
Unlike other cities where various races lived together, Roverduke was mostly inhabited by dwarves.
Of course, Ruon didn’t know why that was.
But he did know that the equipment made in Roverduke was of exceptional quality.
There was a saying that you could easily see artifact equipment in Roverduke, which was hard to find even if you searched with your eyes wide open in other places.
Ruon, who had relied a lot on the performance of his equipment before he became superhuman, had also visited Roverduke with the hope of getting some artifact equipment.
Of course, he was turned away at the entrance because he didn’t qualify.
As time passed and he became strong enough to crush rocks with his fists, he naturally forgot the name of the city. He said to Strabo.
“Go on.”
Strabo gulped down his beer as if his throat was burning. He said.
“There’s nothing more to say. Even if they have a weird temper, my family is skilled enough to fix that sword that’s gone crazy. That’s all.”
Igor looked puzzled.
“Strabo, I don’t mean to disrespect or belittle your family’s skills, but… the holy sword is not in a state where it can be improved or worsened by hammering. This is a result of the divine power and the demon’s power intertwining…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Strabo snorted.
“Igor, just like you can draw on Mother Tivela’s power as a priest, we have blacksmiths who can wield Duermyr’s flames! They’re not just ordinary heroes who melt metal and pour it into molds and hammer it like crazy.”
He said so much that Igor had nothing more to say. He shrugged and closed his mouth.
Then, Kyle tapped Strabo’s drooping shoulder lightly and asked.
“Then isn’t that a good thing? Why are you so gloomy? You can see your family and fix the holy sword. It’s killing two birds with one stone.”
At that, Strabo shuddered as if he had been struck by lightning.
“Shit, shit.”
He spat out a curse word and then giggled.
“The problem is, even if the sword is fixed, I might die. Ah, I thought I would die gloriously in the hands of the demon lord… but I’m destined to be hammered until my head breaks.”
Igor tilted his head.
“Didn’t you say that before? You ran away from the forge… Is it related to that?”
Did he know how to make that face?
Ruon chuckled as he watched the dwarf nodding his head silently.
He had never seen Strabo show any signs of depression until now, so he was sure there was something going on.
Come to think of it, he was the protagonist of an absurd combination of a dwarf and a druid, so it would be strange if he didn’t have any stories.
He had been babbling about adventure and romance and whatnot.
Ruon said in a joking tone.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll help you avoid being famous for hammering. You’re right, we should die by Velducias, right?”
“…Ruon, are you trying to comfort me right now?”
Strabo shouted as soon as Kyle’s worried words ended.
“That’s right! We should die by his hands! That’s romantic!”
Kyle shook his head.
“I was worried for nothing.”
Then, a pleasant ringing sound filled the inn.
They turned their heads to the source of the sound and saw a woman standing on a small stage with a lute in her hand. She smiled faintly as she felt the people’s eyes on her. Then, she plucked the strings with her slender fingers and started to sing in a soft voice.
Strabo, who was soaked in the lyrics that praised the great deeds and tales of the old heroes, murmured with moist eyes.
“…If we kill Velducias, will our deeds become a song?”
He nodded his head as if he had made up his mind.
“Friends! Our next destination is Roverduke! Let’s go and fix the holy sword first. Damn it!”
