by Akira Kareno
On the other hand, Rhantolk was trouble in a different way.
Whenever Willem put a finger to her back and applied pressure, the girl exhaled with an oddly alluring noise. She had an adult air about her that didn’t really match her age to begin with. Whenever he heard the voice, he felt like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, and he lost his touch. It almost took twice as long to finish the treatment than he had originally estimated.
During treatment, Chtholly’s pointed gaze into the back of his head hurt his heart considerably.
When he asked, the faeries explained there were sporadic attacks from Beasts even after the Saxifraga fell. Though none of them was a major threat and all were easily disposed of, Willem knew there was a possibility, so he checked to find out that, just as he thought, both of them had minor venenum poisoning.
Venenum conflicted with a person’s life force in the first place. Activating venenum was essentially causing one’s own life force to malfunction on purpose. And activating too much of it at once, or keeping it activated for long periods of time, or reactivating it over and over in a short period of time, could make the crippled condition easier to keep coming back again and again, and that made it even harder to fix.
He had just now applied one of the ways of dealing with that on the two girls. First he stimulated the applicable points on the body, adjusted the blood flow, then forcibly relaxed the rigid muscles. In the old world, it was known as a practical battlefield medical technique.
“Phew. How’s that? Feeling better?” Willem asked, tired after all that, and the two girls glanced at each other.
“Uh… My body feels real light. It kinda feels wrong.”
“I don’t think it’s easy to relax if we’re not still exhausted after a fierce battle.”
The treatment itself produced the proper effect, but regardless, he was met with somewhat spiteful responses.
The two girls had been acting like this ever since Willem introduced himself the day before.
He somewhat understood how they felt.
To them, the man who was Second Officer Willem Kmetsch was an unknown character who suddenly appeared before them and started acting like he owned them. Even though his identity was confirmed and both Chtholly and Nephren vouched for him, he hadn’t done anything to show he was trustworthy, nor had he taken any time to build up their trust. It was natural they would be cautious around him, and he understood that to an extent.
He understood, but…he felt like that wasn’t the whole story.
“But you’re an emnetwiht, right?”
When he asked them directly, Rhantolk readily gave him the reason why they were cautious around him.
“It would be sweet if you were just a role player, but Chtholly and Nephren vouched for the truth. That means you are the deadly race that broke the world. I don’t know if I can accept you so easily.”
That made sense. Of course that was it. Even though none of the people he had revealed his own race to acted in that way, it was a second, careful thought that told him he had just been lucky. Her line of thinking was rather typical.
“But it’s not like I did anything on my own…”
“Now that you said that, if someone said you were suspicious, then that carefree posture, that lax attitude, would make you look even more suspicious. It’s like you’re trying to hide what you’re really thinking. You’re like a man who’s used to deceiving women… Though I know there’s no end to it once I start questioning you.”
If you know, then stop questioning me.
The world should be viewed through a simpler lens.
But wait, what did she mean by “used to deceiving women”? That was a terrible misunderstanding. He wanted her to take that back.
“I give you my thanks for saving Chtholly from her planned death. And judging by the quality of the skill you used to heal us, I know that your abilities themselves are worth praise. It must be true that you were a…Quasi Brave in the old world, a battle-capable individual. You, on your own, are much more specialized for battle than we are, who are born and die to fight. But that is not enough data to determine whether or not you are dangerous.”
If she was willing to recognize his skills to that extent, then all he needed was just one more step.
“Do you know how the emnetwiht spread the Seventeen Beasts throughout the world?”
He’d heard a bit from the Great Sage. An anti-Imperial organization at the time, called True World, developed the Beasts; they were a kind of biological weapon.
“A biological weapon?”
Yeah. That’s what he’d heard.
“Then there must have been a living creature that acted as an elemental base for it. Does that sound familiar?”
No. He didn’t think it was that important. He thought they’d probably captured some new kind of monstrous being.
“I see.”
“I see”? Really? That’s it?
“Yes.”
…I see.
“I don’t really hate people like you.”
Nopht’s answer was an easy one.
“You don’t act high and mighty at all. You look kind of poor, actually. If Ithea and Nephren trust you, then you’re probably not thinking about doing bad stuff. You actually look like you’re not thinking about anything.”
He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad about that.
“But, nah, not for me. I trust Rhan’s eyes the most. Sorry, but if she says she can’t trust you, then neither can I.”
So that’s where it was going in the end.
“You shouldn’t worry too much about it.”
He must have looked pretty bummed about it because Nephren approached him.
“Those two are always like that. They’re not usually the type to truly hate people, so I’m sure they’ll be nicer to you before long.”
“Yeah… I guess so.”
They didn’t seem like bad people. Rhantolk was just going through things in her own logical manner, and Nopht just trusted her and her process.
He didn’t feel like he should hate them.
“Thanks,” he said with gratitude, and Nephren tilted her head. “You’re always on my side, aren’t you? It’s a big help.”
“Hmm… That’s not really the reason why,” she responded with her usual hard-to-read expression. “You just look like you might break if I leave you alone.”
“…Do I really look that helpless?” he asked, a slightly hurt tone to his voice, but Nephren stayed silent and did not respond.
It sounded like the reloading of artifacts was going smoothly. One crate after another was stuffed into the lowest part of the airship—the hold, which was filled with the pungent scent of metal and oil.
Willem received permission from the operations manager and popped open one of the crates. He pulled out the inside article, wrapped tightly in a dirtied, tattered rag.
“You better be careful there. If ya don’t watch out, you might find yourself with an emnetwiht curse!” an orc worker warned him with a charismatic smile.
“Thanks for the consideration, but no worries here. I’m an emnetwiht.”
“Ha-ha! Mate, stuff like that doesn’t embarrass you at your age?” With a laugh, the worker left.
“…He probably thought I was having teenage delusions.”
Whatever the truth was, the emnetwiht was a legendary race, the embodiment of evil. Anyone would normally think it an embarrassing fantasy if he suddenly announced himself to be one. He would have to be more careful in the future.
He turned his attention back to the thing in the cloth, the large sword made up of tens of different pieces of metal, and lifted it to his eye level. There was no doubt about it—this was the pure-grade Carillon Lapidemsibilus.
He didn’t know why they had excavated it here, of all places. Navrutri was from West Garmando, and he didn’t think very well of the Empire. Willem couldn’t think of a reason why Navrutri would come all the way to this remote part of the Em
pire after his fight with the Visitors and Poteau.
“Eh, whatever.”
Navrutri probably had some good reason. Willem wouldn’t think too hard on it. Right now, the question of how the sword itself was faring was much more important.
He glanced over the veins of enchantment to see how they were doing. They were spectacularly tattered. It was practically unusable in this state, and he was unsure if he could repair it to its original state with his skills. He would have to take it apart and examine each piece carefully.
“—Why are you here? What are you doing?” Nopht poked her head out from behind a crate. “If you wanna steal that stuff and sell it for profit, it has to pass through the Alliance anyway, so there’s no point, y’know.”
“Huh, I’m kind of offended you’d treat me like some scoundrel.” He wagged his finger. “I’m a terrible, evil emnetwiht. If I’m gonna be plotting stuff, it’d be on an even bigger scale.”
“For real?”
“For real.” He cackled.
Nopht seemed genuinely intrigued.
“So…like what? Like crashing this airship or something like that?”
“Nah, I’d die, too.”
“But carrying out evil deeds without any care for your own safety does sound kind of cool.”
“You’re too sentimental. True evil doesn’t need stale pride and stuff like that. Always be easy on yourself—and kind to nature while you’re at it. That’s the most important thing if you’re gonna call yourself evil.”
“For real?”
“For real.”
He cackled.
“Oh yeah, I remember now. I’m going to be adjusting this one, so I may as well do you guys’, too. Can I borrow ’em?”
After this and that, Willem borrowed the girls’ swords.
Then he found an empty storage room.
Steel, copper, and tin sheets had been thrown together like a mosaic to create a makeshift wall. On it was hastily written, improper graffiti. There were small cracks here and there in the underbelly of the pipes that ran across the ceiling. There was only one clasp left on the grate over the air vent, and it seemed like just one good shake would make it fall. There were a number of tools, probably brought in when they were working on the Wessex Bordering, sitting by the wall.
An indescribable, foul odor assaulted his senses the moment he stepped into the room.
It wasn’t a very comfortable place. But at least here he wouldn’t have to worry about the wind and the sand, and more importantly, it was quiet.
“I’m not really in the position to ask for a nice room anyway.”
He untied the string that kept the two swords on his back and placed them by the wall.
He picked one of the two back up, sat on the floor, and slowly began to loosen the venenum that ran throughout the blade.
“—Initialize adjustment.”
About half of the thirty-eight metallic fragments drifted through the air one at a time, finding their own spots and stopping in place.
Unlike the other time when he fixed Seniorious, this room wasn’t very spacious. It would be difficult to take this sword apart completely to adjust it. He figured he would do a proper adjustment after they got back to the faerie warehouse, and for now he would just go with a simple inspection and repair. Luckily, there was no one else here, and if he could immerse himself in his work, then it would be over fairly qui—
“Oh, there you are.”
Chtholly poked her head out from the other side of the door.
She wore roughly hewn working clothes. Her hair was tied back so it wouldn’t get in the way.
Ever since they’d boarded the airship, Chtholly had made herself known in different parts of the ship and continued diligently helping with little jobs here and there. She was, after all, assistant to the enchantments officer, who really didn’t have any work. There were no tasks they had to attend to in the first place, so if she wanted to be of use to someone, then she had to find work herself.
“Sheesh, you can’t just disappear on me like that. I’m your secretary! I have to at least know where my presiding officer is at all times.”
“…Uh, well…” It was so sudden, his working hand stopped in surprise. “Your ‘secretary’ position is nothing but a title; you know you don’t actually have to do any work, right?”
“It’s not very convincing at all when you say it.”
He had nothing to say in return.
Why did she want to work so badly?
“If I don’t do anything, then you’d actually become someone who abused his power to bring his useless lover onto a battlefield. And you know, I don’t like the sound of that.”
“’S not something you need to worry about.”
“But I do worry about it.” She puffed out her cheeks like a child. “Hey, can I watch you?”
“I don’t mind, but it smells bad in here.”
“That’s fine. There are plenty of other rooms that smell much worse on this airship.”
Nothing seemed fine about it at all. The thought crossed his mind, but if that made her feel better, then he wouldn’t bother raising a fuss. He casually waved her in and took in his audience.
“Is that Nopht’s sword?”
“Yeah.”
With the tip of his finger, he gently tapped one of the metallic fragments—a talisman. The piece slid through the air, and once it reached the place where it belonged, it froze.
There was a clear metallic sound, like a metallophone.
Chtholly lowered herself onto a nearby toolbox.
“It is beautiful, but it’s not very romantic in here.”
“Way better than a sandstorm, though. Just bear it for now.”
“I guess so.”
A question suddenly crossed Willem’s mind. “You still remember the night I adjusted Seniorious?”
“Yes, I do.” Chtholly nodded. “I’m taking care not to activate any venenum, so it doesn’t really feel like my memories are chipping away right now. It might just be that I don’t realize it, but at the moment, it doesn’t feel like an inconvenience. I still remember Nephren, and Nopht, and Rhantolk, and…Ithea. I’m not very confident when it comes down to details, though.”
“Uh…huh.”
She hadn’t mentioned Willem Kmetsch’s name just now because she probably didn’t need to reconfirm who he was. She probably hadn’t forgotten him. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here, talking like she was now.
The talismans quietly sang their terrible song.
They wordlessly spent a few moments like this.
“…Hmm?”
An odd feeling overcame him.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s not broken.”
“Of course not. If it was, then Nopht would be having a hard time right now.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is…” How should he explain this? He spent a whole two seconds thinking. “One of the elements that shows a Carillon’s abilities is something called its slayer level. It’s a thing that establishes what kind of enemy the sword is especially effective against.”
“O-okay.”
Chtholly seemed briefly perplexed by the sudden onslaught of jargon, but she was going along with it anyway.
“As it keeps cutting down enemies of a certain type, it develops a peculiarity or a murderous specialty that starts sticking to the blade. You ever heard of the Dragonslayer? Titles like that are given to swords whose slayer levels have tipped far in one direction.”
“O-okay…”
It probably didn’t make much sense to her, since all they did was use their swords against the Beasts. It’s not like she’d ever seen a dragon anyway.
He kept going.
“This sword is the Kinslayer.”
“…The what?”
“Its specialty is killing kin. This sword exists only for emnetwiht to kill emnetwiht, and it’s not really used for anything outside of that.”
“Wait, that’s weird. Nopht
uses that sword to fight against the Beasts.”
“Exactly, it’s weird. That’s why I thought that maybe its functions associated with its specialty were broken or something.”
Upon checking, he found that the sword Desperatio was worn out as a whole and its functional efficiency was low, but the functions themselves were operating normally, almost to the point where it was hard to believe that its last maintenance was over five hundred years ago. The spinal root was healthy, and the veins of enchantment still had some strength in them.
“Well, today I’m just doing some emergency repairs. We can save mystery solving for another da—”
“Then there must have been a living creature that acted as an elemental base for it. Does that sound familiar?”
Chtholly looked at him in doubt again when he suddenly fell silent.
“…Now what?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head.
An awful supposition sat square in the middle of his mind and wouldn’t move.
He was thinking too much. He would convince himself he was.
Sure, if he thought of it that way, then it would solve many mysteries at once—the reason why the Seventeen Beasts destroyed the world with such frightening speed.
According to the history books, two entire countries disappeared from the map in just a few days.
By the beginning of the following week, five countries, four islands, and two oceans disappeared.
And by the beginning of the week after that, maps themselves had become pointless—
“……”
No. That couldn’t be it.
Of course it couldn’t. If that was the truth, then it was impossible that Great Sage Suowong hadn’t realized it. And if he was aware of it, then why didn’t he tell him…?
“If you wish to say something, then you must tell him everything. The man’s attitude may change if you expose one or two secrets of the surface that you’ve kept hidden.”
There was a reason why.
What kept him quiet, what kept him from saying anything was none other than Willem himself.