Four silver coins.
Having paid for a week’s stay at the inn, indulged in a bath and laundry, and even acquired some worn clothes, I still found myself with a surplus of coins.
I ordered the cheapest meal available at the inn.
What arrived was a watery, insipid soup, accompanied by a loaf of bread that had clearly languished unsold for days.
While far from delicious, dipping the unyielding bread into the thin soup rendered it somewhat palatable, even if each bite sent an ache through my jaw.
The crust, as tough as bark, scraped against my throat with each swallow.
A sigh escaped my lips as I stretched languidly, my mind drifting back to the previous day’s events, prompting a quiet murmur to myself.
“There was so much I didn’t know…”
My time with Ban had starkly illuminated the profound depths of my own ignorance.
Having embraced the perilous life of an adventurer, I understood that future endeavors would inevitably involve working alongside various individuals, even if such collaborations were not always my preference.
It became clear that accumulating a foundational base of knowledge was paramount, lest I become a hindrance to others in those inevitable moments.
“While I learned a great deal from my grandfather, it wasn’t as if he had taught me everything.”
Grandfather Leon had been a soldier.
Even to my inexperienced eyes, he had never struck me as a typical soldier, though he had always introduced himself as such.
Consequently, his vast reservoir of knowledge inevitably leaned heavily toward his military background.
While he had imparted some wisdom regarding the life of an adventurer, much remained unsaid and unknown.
In this era, there was no internet.
The inherent limitations of an individual’s accumulated knowledge were starkly evident, making this reality an unsurprising one.
“What Ban taught me was largely ‘don’t trust people’—a rather extreme philosophy, yet undeniably useful.”
A thought began to coalesce: Ban might not be the villain I had initially perceived him to be.
Had he truly harbored ill intent, he would never have meticulously calculated the funds and left them for me yesterday, despite his palpable disdain.
Reflecting on my harrowing experiences in Diran, I knew that most would have not only withheld any payment but would have likely beaten me, perhaps even tossing me into a pit teeming with goblin corpses; Ban, however, had refrained from such cruelty.
Though he had choked me and unceremoniously tossed me aside, it seemed to be the extent of his anger, indicating a surprising degree of self-control.
Should our paths cross again, I might not dare to acknowledge him, yet my gratitude would undoubtedly persist.
For had I not been with Ban at that critical moment, I would almost certainly be enduring the harsh realities of homelessness by now.
“For now, I’ll rest today… and try hard again starting tomorrow.”
My skin felt raw and stung from where it had scraped against the ground when Ban had so unceremoniously thrown me yesterday, and I suspected that overexerting myself on the steep downhill during our escape was also to blame.
My ankle, in particular, was noticeably swollen.
“Are you finished? May I clear the table now?”
The innkeeper’s daughter drifted quietly to my side, posing her question, and I granted her permission with a slight nod of my head.
After this, I made my way to the inn’s rear entrance, and once I had confirmed the area was deserted, I drew my sword.
“…My foot aches, but…”
Even so, I couldn’t afford to skip sword training.
I had no talent.
Thus, I was compelled to exert myself commensurate with my complete lack of natural aptitude.
It was an undeniable truth, one known to all, yet few possessed the resolve to truly embrace it.
Lacking innate talent, most did not persevere; instead, they simply surrendered.
This wasn’t a mark of weakness, but rather a consequence of their inability to perceive the tangible rewards of their sustained efforts.
For individuals blessed with talent, their endeavors were akin to traversing a moonlit street at night.
The moon’s gentle glow pierced the encroaching darkness, clearly delineating the path ahead.
In stark contrast, those devoid of natural talent found themselves merely stumbling through an impenetrable darkness.
Devoid of any sense of direction, they remained oblivious to whether they were even progressing forward.
It was entirely possible they had lost their bearings and were, in fact, retreating.
“But I am different.”
While my inherent lack of talent kept the immediate path shrouded, the ultimate destination I was striving for shone with an unparalleled clarity.
This unique trait was what had forged my resolve.
[Military Swordsmanship E]
[Due to your small stature and a constitution that struggles to build muscle, you are ill-suited for swordsmanship, and your talent is shallower than others, leaving you lagging in all aspects.]
[However, through your perseverance and the guidance of an exceptional master, you have advanced a single stage, thus finally acquiring the rudimentary qualifications to employ the name ‘Swordsmanship.’]
This trait had once grown.
From F-rank to E-rank.
Where could there be more certain proof of growth?
Where could there be a more certain demonstration of the value of effort?
Armed with the undeniable knowledge that effort invariably yielded growth, I found no conceivable reason to abandon my pursuit.
So, I swung my sword.
I swung, adhering to my grandfather’s precise instructions, meticulously following the prescribed sword path.
“Ugh…”
My sword wavered.
Whether from yesterday’s intense exertion, my entire body creaked in protest, each joint and muscle screaming with fatigue.
When the adrenaline finally receded this morning, I found myself paralyzed, unable to move for nearly forty minutes.
A throbbing, pervasive muscle ache consumed me.
My various injuries stung, smarted, and throbbed with persistent discomfort.
Yet, to rest would be to allow my sword to rust, a consequence exacerbated by my complete lack of natural talent; thus, I had no alternative but to press on.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I tightened my grip on the sword, my knuckles whitening.
The tip of the sword held steady.
The most rudimentary principle of swordsmanship dictated that the blade’s tip remain perfectly still.
Only once the blade ceased its trembling could one even contemplate advancing to the next stage of mastery.
Since my condition wasn’t good today.
Gripping the hilt, I resolved to concentrate solely on preventing the sword’s tip from wavering.
They claimed that a talented individual’s sword tip would remain perfectly still even upon their very first grasp, yet here I was, still struggling with this fundamental principle.
A sigh of deep regret escaped me, disrupting my breathing and causing the momentarily still blade to tremble in my grasp.
“Grandfather always looked so sharp when he held his sword.”
Even at an age where his muscles had long since withered, the moment he gripped a sword, he seemed to meld with it, emanating a sharp, formidable presence.
Time and again, I reflected on it, certain that he was far from an ordinary soldier.
Having been tutored by such a man, I could at least take pride in possessing a robust foundation, despite my inherent lack of talent.
“Aside from my lack of talent, I have only one other problem.”
I lacked muscle.
My insufficient musculature meant I couldn’t maintain a proper grip on the sword, nor could I execute a truly effective swing.
If one were to argue that muscle mass constituted a component of talent, I would find myself with little rebuttal, though I could certainly offer a valid excuse.
With such meager sustenance, the notion of developing any significant muscle mass was utterly preposterous.
“The earnings from yesterday will be allocated to immediate living expenses, with a portion set aside for emergencies, leaving me no more to spend for now.
However, going forward, when I acquire more funds, it would be wise not to skimp on food.”
Although I remained uncertain of my precise age within this world, I refused to believe that 139 centimeters was the full extent of my growth.
Clinging to the hope of further growth, I reasoned there could be no detriment in consuming ample nutrients now.
“I’m not even hoping for 160cm, but I genuinely wish I could reach at least 150cm.”
To contend on the front lines with a body that felt as though a mere kick could send it flying was utterly unacceptable.
With a flash of irritation, I swung my sword.
Even to a casual observer, the sword’s trajectory was erratic and uneven, resembling a child’s haphazard scribble.
A dull ache settled in my arm, accompanied by a prickling numbness.
I retrieved my sword, then sought the cool respite beneath a nearby tree, settling down to rest.
“To be this exhausted after doing just that little bit yesterday…”
All I had accomplished yesterday was a three-hour ascent up a mountain, followed by two hours of meticulous trap scouting, then deliberately drawing the attention of goblins, only to conclude with a perilous leap down a near-vertical incline.
“…Huh.”
‘Come to think of it, I actually accomplished quite a bit yesterday; perhaps this level of exhaustion is entirely warranted?’
No sooner had this thought formed than I found myself succumbing to the flimsy temptation, ‘Having done all that, wouldn’t it be right to rest today of all days?’
I shook my head, but the undeniable heaviness and fatigue in my body made the temptation sound impossibly sweet.
I trembled for a moment, then let out a shout.
“Uwaaaaaaah-!”
“Quiet!”
“My apologies!”
I had attempted to break free from my lazy thoughts with a battle cry, but shouting behind the inn caused the innkeeper to appear and scold me.
Hastily apologizing, I used my sword as a makeshift cane to force myself to stand.
I had been repeating to myself that I needed to exert effort, yet how much effort had I truly put in to be resting beneath a tree’s shade like this?
I picked up my sword again.
When Rie had briefly logged in last time, he had compared me to the new character he’d created.
‘The character I made three days ago already has Swordsmanship B,’ he’d said.
Whether that meant the character had achieved B-rank in swordsmanship in just three days, or had merely grown an existing B-rank skill, I couldn’t be sure, but the colossal disparity between us was certainly real.
“Moreover, he said he started not as an orphan like me, but as an upper-class character, so his status must be at least commoner, or perhaps even noble?”
For a ghetto-born orphan to cry for revenge, the worlds we inhabited were simply too far apart.
While this didn’t break my resolve, a sigh still escaped me, a reaction I couldn’t help.
“If I try hard enough, I’ll be able to reach it.”
I knew full well how hollow my words sounded, yet I had no choice but to believe them.
If I didn’t believe that, what else could I possibly do?
I swung my sword, just as Grandfather had taught me.
I moved my legs, just as Grandfather had taught me.
That was the best effort I could possibly make.
My entire body was bruised and scarred, creaking and groaning, refusing to obey my commands perfectly, yet I managed to endure.
Indeed, I believed I had to endure if I was to accomplish anything at all afterward.
“…If only there were internet broadcasting in this world, I could probably get by on my cute looks alone.”
My body’s exhaustion was clearly leading to all sorts of wild fantasies.
“But that’s not the case.”
I gripped my sword and extended it high towards the sky.
Then I brought it down forcefully.
The sword’s trajectory was still a mess, of course, but the sheer force behind it was magnificent, I thought.
“You know that training when your body is not in good condition is only going to hurt you, right?”
The voice was familiar.
I immediately recognized who it was, so I sheathed my sword and slowly, without looking back, curled my body into a ball.
Like a pill bug.
“…What, uh?”
A bewildered voice reached me, and I, feeling rather perplexed myself, voiced my own question.
“You’re not here to hit me, are you?”
It was Ban.
Ban had come looking for me.
This time, to ensure our eyes wouldn’t meet even by accident, I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered in a small, almost inaudible voice.
“Me? Hit you?”
“Yes, Ban, you, me.”
“…The unpleasant feeling hasn’t gone away, and I still feel it, but I came here to apologize, asking around until I found you.”
“…Huh?”
“That eye of yours, it’s a type of curse, isn’t it? That’s why you kept hiding your gaze to avoid eye contact, and then, because of my mistake, our eyes met and that incident happened? It seemed strange no matter how much I thought about it, so I pondered it deeply and came to that conclusion. How about it?”
“…Oh.”
Could this truly be called a curse?
Uncertain, I remained silent, causing Ban to click his tongue in irritation before speaking again.
“Since you haven’t denied it, I’ll take that as a confirmation. I apologize. My emotions surged uncontrollably in that moment, and I lost all sense of reason.”
“…It’s alright.”
This was the first time I had ever encountered someone who apologized to me.
Just as I was thinking, ‘This alone is enough,’ Ban continued.
“However, an apology with mere words feels rather hollow. So, I came to tell you a prevailing rumor that’s been circulating recently.”
“…A rumor?”
A prevailing rumor, he said.
“They say a Saint has appeared.”
“A Saint…?”
“It’s been quite the buzz recently. They say he suddenly rose to prominence a few months ago, excels with a sword, possesses extraordinary divine power, and can cure any illness or curse.”
A mysterious genius who had suddenly risen to prominence…
A strong sense of unease settled over me.
My silence must have been interpreted in some way, as Ban continued to elaborate.
“They say he’s so kind-hearted he can’t pass by anyone in distress. If your eye is indeed a curse, I recommend you try meeting the Saint.”
“…Thank you. Do you happen to know the Saint’s name?”
“…Hmm, it was ‘Rie,’ I believe? Quite a feminine name for a man. Well, I’ll be going now; I imagine my presence here makes you uncomfortable.”
With that, Ban vanished as if fleeing.
The sudden influx of information caused all sorts of thoughts to flood my mind.
