Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The Flow of the Original Story

There is one rule shared by romance fantasies, academy stories, and various other works.

No matter how solid the defenses are, they will eventually be breached.

The method varies. Sometimes the story prepares a proper explanation, and sometimes it simply says the place was breached without bothering to explain how or why.

But the important thing is that the breach allows the story to move forward.

And I should have remembered that.

***

“The subjugation should be starting around now.”

Rose had gone home, and everyone else was asleep.

Only the mercenary band was moving. They had already climbed the mountain and were heading for the bandits’ hideout.

“It’ll end well.”

It was disappointing, in a way. I had learned a lot, and even in such a short time I could feel myself improving, so I wanted to keep learning.

I could have suggested that the Mercenary King let Rose and me travel with the mercenary band. But I abandoned the idea.

“I might grow faster if I stayed with the mercenary band and learned from the Mercenary King.”

But then we would ultimately be tied down to them. We needed to explore freely. We had to exploit Rose’s ability to attract fortuitous encounters to the absolute limit.

Together... together.

When my thoughts reached that point, my body stopped for a moment.

Did we really have to go together?

Reaching the latter half of Stage 2 with cheap methods was undeniably the result of talent and effort. The Mercenary King had praised me for that too.

Compared to others, I was fortunate, someone whose rare talent could even draw jealousy. But the person I had to keep pace with was Rose.

“Can I really catch up to Rose?”

Inside our hideout on the outskirts of the village, I slowly swung an iron sword. I wanted to clear my head.

There had been no special reason I reached Stage 2. I simply fought Rose again and again, trained constantly, and desperately tried to catch up to her.

I had taught Rose about romance fantasy and tried to guide her. But in the end, I was the one being led, and hadn’t I already told her everything?

“My head’s a mess.”

If I’m being honest, I can’t claim I had no greed or vanity. Because I knew this was a romance fantasy and understood clichés, part of me thought I could exploit them perfectly.

Like protagonists in other web novels, I even expected that someone like me who came from outside might monopolize all the opportunities and enjoy a happy fantasy life.

I was human too, so apparently I didn’t possess some perfect sense of justice.

“So what do I want? What do I actually want?”

Paradoxically, the reason I could declare this place reality was because I had a previous life. I had accepted the death of my past life and understood this was my second life, so I could firmly call this reality.

And in this life, I intended to carry my own desires in my heart and move forward beside Rose, the protagonist of this story.

Because being the protagonist of a romance fantasy was difficult. She would receive hatred because she was loved, and responsibility because she was strong.

That was why I wanted to shoulder part of her burden. Because we were old friends, and because she had treated an orphan like me as a friend without caring about our difference in status.

“But can I really share that burden?”

My sword moved faster. Rougher. Without order, lashing out wildly in every direction.

In the end, the question returned to where it started. Rose cared about me a great deal. She looked after me as a friend and did many things for my sake.

Then what if I were in danger? Rose would abandon everything and come save me. Then I would become a burden.

Rose’s growth was fast, while mine was slow. Even approaching Stage 3 felt like walking toward a wall so distant I might never reach it.

I had come this far thanks to the protagonist buff of a romance-fantasy heroine, yet if I still couldn’t overcome that wall, then what was the meaning of my existence?

The sword trembled. Just like my eyes shaking from side to side, my body trembled and my sword path lost its shape.

Wouldn’t I just be dead weight? Even as I was, I could probably enter the academy since I was a commoner nearing Stage 3. But could I become special like the other male leads?

Wouldn’t it be better to stay one step behind Rose, giving her advice and offering her a little emotional comfort?

Wouldn’t it be better to send Rose with the mercenary band, let her train there, work as a mercenary, and gather opportunities?

“I guess I’m more of a coward than I thought.”

As I mocked myself, the strength drained from my body and the sword lowered.

The moon poured light over me as if laughing at the sight. It really was ridiculous.

“I wish I’d known the original story.”

Then I could have stolen just a tiny opportunity or two.

As I laughed bitterly at myself and raised the sword again, I suddenly sensed someone nearby.

Not from the direction of the village. Someone was coming this way quickly, carrying an ominous presence.

“Who’s there!”

“Hah, what are you?”

There stood a blood-soaked man with crimson light blazing from his eyes. Blood ran down several parts of his body, and a sword was in his hand.

The problem was his presence. Like a cornered beast, it poured outward in a wild, unrefined, completely unconcealed flood.

Put the information together, and he was a bandit who escaped from the subjugation. But an ordinary bandit couldn’t possibly radiate that level of pressure. Which meant...

“Stage 4.”

“You can tell, kid? Damn. You’ve got good eyes. Yeah. Bad luck too.”

Why had a bandit appeared now? Why? Wouldn’t escaping deeper into the mountain make more sense than running toward here?

“This big brother ran away... Haa, and I’m hurt this badly. I happened to need a hostage. Want to be one?”

“A hostage, my ass. I’d rather die.”

I raised my sword and prepared to fight. He was injured, while I was unharmed. I should at least be able to endure for a while.

“You? Beat me? You think you can!”

As moonlight struck him, I finally understood the source of the light in his eyes. They had turned completely red and were actually glowing.

And that was a very famous sign of demonic transformation. A drug created by dark mages granted tremendous power, but destroyed judgment and gradually turned its user into a mindless demon.

Had that drug clouded his judgment and made him flee down toward the village?

Why was this appearing now? Dark mages were rare, and drugs like that were even rarer. Was there something I had missed? Or... something I hadn’t been thinking about?

In the next instant, he swung his sword and leapt toward me.

“Damn it! Couldn’t you give me time to think?!”

The ground where he had been standing exploded with a boom, and dark-red energy wrapped around his sword.

If I met sword with sword, mine would be cut apart. So I threw myself aside and rolled, doing everything possible to avoid the strike.

It was the right answer. His aura-covered blade tore through the ground with a sharp crack. The only good things were that he was wounded and that the drug had reduced his intelligence.

The problem was that I still couldn’t see any way to win.

His sword cut through the air again. All I could do was endure. I rolled and rolled, barely avoiding each strike.

But fundamentally, he was an adult. There was already a gap in our physical ability. And he was a Stage 4 swordsman. There was also a gap in realm. Compared to him, even injured and drugged, I was overwhelmingly inferior.

Simply watching his sword and dodging consumed all my concentration. And then, in one brief instant, his foot connected with my stomach. With a bang, my body flew through the air.

“Guh!”

Pain. Incredible pain surged through me. I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t even force a scream up my throat.

Why? How? Why did something like this appear? Because the Mercenary King was here? But even then, wasn’t this too strange?

Countless questions and screams flashed through my mind through the pain. And eventually, I reached the answer I had known all along but refused to face.

This was the ‘original story.’

The original Rose was a tomboy. Even if she knew the Mercenary King was impressive, there was no reason she would learn swordsmanship. Then how had she formed a connection with him?

Because of his mistake, one bandit escaped and killed her childhood friend. Leaving him indebted to her.

Then why hadn’t Rose’s personality changed?

Because in my final words, I would have told her it wasn’t her fault, and asked her not to lose that personality.

Then why did Rose attend the academy?

Because she learned that the cause of my death involved bandits and a dark mage’s drug, and wanted to grow stronger so she could take revenge on dark mages.

Then it all made sense. Everything made sense.

I could see the man approaching me with his sword. Moonlight glinted along the blade.

Maybe... maybe this is better. If my death helps Rose, then perhaps I can pay the price for teaching her about romance fantasy, revealing a horrible secret that doesn’t belong in this world, and leaking the future. I...

“Henry!!”

I heard a familiar man’s voice in the distance. The Mercenary King.

Ah, is he coming to save me?

You sure took your time.

My back suddenly felt cool. No, not cool. Had it been cut?

“Step away from him.”

I could hear anger. Hah... how kind. Worrying about a commoner like me.

“Hmm, a kid the great Mercenary King personally cares about. Sounds like a pretty valuable hostage.”

“If you know who I am... then you know what I can do, don’t you?”

“I do. Which is exactly why I know the moment you attack me, I can take this brat down with me.”

Why was the Mercenary King trying to save me? Because of his principles? Then what were my principles?

If I just died here... would I be satisfied?

Death was visible. Death was close. I was afraid. More afraid because I had already died once. I was afraid there might not be another life, that this might truly be the end.

I was sad I might never talk to Rose again. Bitter that I might never speak to the director again. I had grown far too attached to the bonds I made here.

Was I really going to give up here? This was my second life. Last time I died for no reason at all. Was I going to die just as pointlessly again?

What did I want?

I...

***

The sense that something was wrong came during the bandit subjugation. The attacks were far too powerful for a Stage 4 mage.

So he immediately charged forward, cutting down everything in his path, and took the mage’s head.

What he found afterward was proof that the mage had used a dark mage’s drug.

“Have the dark mages begun moving?”

If so, perhaps the boy was right and this really was a romance fantasy. Wasn’t the timing of all this far too perfect?

Over the last three days, he had heard many stories from the two children. Stories from the boy’s previous life, and stories about romance fantasy.

Combined with the instincts of an old mercenary, he knew this wasn’t some ordinary incident.

A strange feeling. Something felt wrong.

The bandits were all being exterminated under the command of the knights and mercenaries.

Everything was going smoothly. That was why something felt wrong. The Mercenary King’s instincts were warning him.

“Eril!”

And by the time he understood what that warning meant, he was already preparing to race down the mountain.

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“I’m leaving command to you!”

The other Stage 4 bandit was nowhere to be seen. Then where had he gone?

He quickly followed the trail and found dead mercenaries and knights. And those traces led toward the village.

Henry had spoken about sacrifice in romance fantasy, about the heroine’s past.

Then wasn’t this exactly like what he had described?

No. That could not happen.

He had sworn an oath. For the boy and girl who trusted him.

Watching that hardworking boy, watching the two of them laugh and talk about everyday life, had reminded him why he had cultivated strength in the first place.

The time they had known each other was short, but their existence was not insignificant. That was why he could not allow the boy to die.

And when he arrived, he saw Henry with a sword pointed at him.

Could he save him? One mistake and Henry could die. His martial arts emphasized strength and weight, not speed.

Even so, would he trust his realm and take the gamble?

No. This was not a gamble. It was something he had to do, and something he had to succeed at.

As he lowered his stance, his eyes caught Henry.

The proud moon shone down on the boy. The flow of energy moving through Henry’s body was changing.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you moving? Are you afraid of me?”

“No. I’m not afraid.”

The Mercenary King slowly straightened, planted his axe into the ground, and assumed an immovable stance.

The only thing he needed to sense was anyone approaching nearby.

“Giving up?”

“No. I am not giving up.”

The inner demon is an egg, and the egg is the world. The moment one breaks free from that world, one can become a Sword Master. Of course, there are rare people whose eggs are layered several times over.

For them, advancing is even more difficult. But those who do advance become even stronger.

“I am watching a hero break out of his shell.”

“What are you talking about?”

The bandit never finished speaking. The person beneath him rose and shoved him away.

The hero who had overcome adversity calmly gripped his sword, aimed it toward the bandit, and took his stance.

“Hoho. If that isn’t a hero, then what is? Looks like I truly backed the right side.”