This Whole ‘minimum Standard Of A Decent Life’ Thing.

The next day. In the Contaminated Region’s forest, Kikori brought his axe down onto a goblin’s head.

By now, he did not feel anything about the sensation of taking a life.

It was a little late for that… but what Kikori was thinking about was the weapon-destruction spell Sword Breaker, which he had somehow managed to learn last night.

After that, he had ultimately succeeded in breaking the broom… but first of all, Sword Breaker was hard to use.

How often, in the middle of a fight, did you ever get into a situation where you could directly touch the enemy’s weapon?

He was not about to lock axes with a monster, and if he ever got forced into a situation like that, it would mean the monster was far stronger than him…

—and Kikori would, without question, get chopped down in no time at all.

“Did I learn the wrong spell…? No, but…”

To begin with, was it not strange that a weapon-destruction spell could break a broom?

A broom was obviously not a weapon. Even if you stretched it and said, “Well, you can hit someone with it…”

…then what about a stone you could throw and use as a weapon? What about a brick?

The answer was probably, “You can break it.” But if that was true, then the reason that reincarnator called Hero Shou had named it “Sword Breaker” was probably nothing more than his own image of it.

In other words, the true nature of this spell was not Sword Breaker at all—

“Giiiiii!”

Maybe it thought Kikori stopping was the perfect chance.

Kikori smacked away the goblin rushing him with a crude axe, knocking it flying with his round shield.

“…What if… this spell can break anything?”

Of course, it should not be something that convenient.

Like Aria had compared it to trading punches with muscle strength, magic was trading punches with mana.

Just because the “kind of muscle” changed did not mean it would lead Kikori to an overwhelming advantage—absolutely not.

But he still thought it. This could become a new weapon.

“Hah. I’m such a kid. It’s not like this is some new toy.”

Thinking like that would get him killed. He knew it. Of course he knew it.

And yet, he still thought: I want to earn more.

He did not want to end as a petty coin-grubber.

He wanted to become a man who could earn big.

“Hey, you think so too, right?”

Walking toward him was a large goblin… a hobgoblin.

Of course. There was no way yesterday’s one was the only one.

He only went a little deeper than yesterday, and already this “thing” showed up.

“Even if I’m going to live shamelessly and filthy… I should still be allowed to want at least that ‘minimum standard of a decent life.’ Nobody would call something like that heroic action, would they?”

“GOOOOOOOOO!”

“Die! Die and… become my earnings!”