Chapter 14

A change came just as he had grown sick of the repeated days. The bright, positive swordsman, the protagonist who stood at the center of the heroes who saved the world in the game—Van Freak.

The color had vanished from his eyes. Even when spoken to, he gave no response. Van, who had become like an empty shell, had stopped holding his sword and spent the entire day with his head hanging.

He ate and drank only the bare minimum, and was indifferent to everything else. He did not stay alert for monster attacks, nor did he maintain his sword, which seemed to have been part of his daily routine. Perhaps his heart had completely broken, for the current Van looked very weak. It would be no surprise if someone judged him to be a different person.

(Did I really push him too hard after all?)

Just because Van would not fight, Hiroto could not let himself sink with him. As usual, he entered the forest and devoted himself to the survival competition against the monsters. He defeated every monster that controlled a territory, then took that territory as proof. By endlessly repeating that, stronger monsters appeared from deeper within the forest, leading to more battles. This was the special training menu Hiroto had devised. He had thought it was a brilliant plan himself, but things did not go quite so smoothly.

(…I did prepare an escape route, though.)

As before, he covered the territory with ice walls at night and released the magic during the day. In other words, at present, there was nothing separating Van from the outside. If he wanted to run away, he was free to leave. Hiroto felt uneasy leaving the utterly exhausted Van alone, but perhaps because the monsters had learned, they apparently decided that their first target would be Zeke, or rather Hiroto. Of course, he continued searching for enemies as much as possible, so he wanted to believe nothing would happen to Van. The dense mana still threw off his senses. Since Hiroto himself had no leeway at all, he could not focus only on Van. If Van left the Forest of Death, then that would be his own responsibility.

(Even so… he really was completely distraught.)

Several nights ago, on the day Hiroto had gone outside the ice wall alone and fought the monsters. Monsters active at night were stronger and more vicious than those active during the day. When he had been fighting with that in mind, Van appeared. While crying, he desperately struck the ice wall and seemed to shout something, but Hiroto had not been able to hear it properly.

(Did he misunderstand and get angry because he thought I was getting ahead of him? That’s way too emotionally unstable.)

He did not think that was the reason, but since Van gave no reaction no matter what he said, there was no way to confirm it. To begin with, with Zeke’s communication ability, it was impossible from the start. Communication Skill Level 1. Far too unfortunate.

Waiting for Van to recover like this might be close to a gamble. Less than two weeks remained until the new moon, the time limit. If safety was the priority, switching to the final plan and relying on Luke would be best. Judging from Van’s current state and ability, Luke was stronger. Even without favoritism.

Normally, Hiroto would prioritize certainty, but… what should he do?

(Should I bring one of the heroines here? Or Luke after all…)

There was no rule saying the protagonist had to be the one to defeat the final boss, but if Hiroto were in Van’s position, he would absolutely regret it. He did not even want to think about killing one’s parent, but overlooking it would be even worse.

He had been lost in thought about the relationship between the protagonist and the final boss. He had completely pushed it out of his mind because they should not have been here. Because of the dense mana, he had treated the fact that enemy detection was useless as if it had nothing to do with him. This world was not a game. Irregularities were bound to occur.

“We meet again, boy of Lagias.”

(Ah… this really is the worst.)

The sound reached his ears from behind. It was the voice of the final boss, one he had heard many times, unchanged from the game. In order not to let his agitation show, he slowly turned around. There stood the strongest swordsman of the current age, Elzen Freak, and the only spirit existing in this world.

The two sides faced each other. In the original work, both sides were enemies.

Zeke, the worst villainous noble in the story. Elzen, the final boss. And Pariaach, the spirit contracted to Elzen. It was an encounter in the Forest of Death, which could be challenged after clearing the game.

“Honestly, anyone could figure it out, not just me. You know… you’re rampaging way too much.”

Pariaach gave a wry smile. Perhaps referring to the disastrous state of the forest, he shrugged.

“Apparently it’s causing an uproar in every country, you know? They think it might be a sign of a stampede or a dungeon collapse.”

“And you went out of your way to come tell me that? Well done, brat. Shall I give you a sweet?”

“…Yeah. It really is impossible after all. I hate this human.”

“What a strange thing to say. A piece of trash that cannot even open the gate without borrowing human power. Do not let a lesser spirit get carried away.”

“…”

Judging that he could not win in a war of words, Pariaach quickly raised the white flag. He moved behind Elzen and took the stance of an observer.

“So… what business does an atrocious wanted criminal like you have here? This is no place for an elderly man.”

“My foolish son appears to be in your care.”

He had accurately grasped the presence of a person other than Zeke in this forest, where one’s senses were easily disturbed. Whether that was because of Elzen’s ability or the spirit’s power was unknown. Either way, Zeke felt wary, knowing he could not let his guard down.

“I do not intend to interfere. That thing cannot become a threat.”

“Hah, don’t make me laugh. The fact that you left him alone without turning him into a key shows your limits. Can you not lay a hand on your beloved son?”

“There is no need to do so. Unlike you, who killed your parents.”

The two scattered sparks without moving. Neither of them fought precisely because they both understood each other’s abilities and strength. There was nothing to gain.

“—Do you understand pain now, Lagias? The current you should understand. This absurd reality. That this world, smeared with hypocrisy, has no value.”

Elzen knew not only about the Lord and Lady of Lagias becoming Watchmen, but also that Zeke was the one who had slain them.

“Diabalet forced sacrifice only upon Lagias. Those fanatics remade the world for their own convenience. Why do you side with Diabalet? —Wake up already.”

“…”

This was not like some swindler skillfully leading someone astray. These words came precisely because Elzen knew pain and understood the structure of this world.

“Lagias. Your place is not there. Come to this side. Submit to me. I will free Lagias.”

“…”

A hand was extended along with words filled with absolute confidence. The executor who would pass judgment on the long-lasting hypocrisy.

Zeke of Lagias, who had been oppressed and conveniently exploited, could understand. He could understand the meaning and weight of those words.

As if being drawn in, Zeke took a step forward. His destination was Elzen.

Zeke took Elzen’s hand.

That did not happen.

“You…”

“How foolish.”

A cold sword manifested in Zeke’s hand. The ice blade created by magic had pierced Elzen’s heart. Zeke then delivered a powerful kick. Elzen was blown backward.

“Are you insane? To begin with, you people are the ones who turned the lords of Lagias into Watchmen.”

Something black wriggled in his heart. In an instant, the wound closed, and Elzen stood up.

“So you know this world’s contradictions and still play the clown…”

“You are the clown. Is clinging to the past like a weakling forever your way of life? Wake up already.”

Perhaps intending to return the favor, Zeke insulted Elzen with the same words. A twisted smile appeared at his lips. He was clearly mocking him.

“Submit, you say? As if I would listen to the orders of someone who would have died countless times without that lesser spirit’s protection.”

“…That’s why I told you. This guy is strange in all kinds of ways. He’s a tyrant who won’t obey others.”

Pariaach sighed while shaking his head. Elzen looked at Zeke with cold eyes.

“Then what will you do? Enjoy killing each other for eternity? Against me?”

“Are you an idiot? …There is no such thing as eternity. Nor do dead people come back to life.”

How much time had passed by now? Van spent what felt like an eternity doing nothing. The sword he had held every day was no longer in his hand. He felt something wrong with that, but his body would not move. His heart rejected taking up the sword.

Zeke said nothing in particular to Van, who had stopped fighting. Whether he was disappointed or looked down on him, Van did not know. The days when he had been forced to fight felt like a lie.

Leaving aside the nights, he was not surrounded by the ice wall during the day. If he wanted to, he could flee at any time. But Van’s legs did not move. Lack of energy was likely one reason, but the awareness that if he ran away here, he could never return held Van in place.

(What do I want to do…?)

Even though it concerned himself, he thought about it as if it were someone else’s problem. Was looking away from the reality before him a form of self-defense?

Masfelt, Elzen, and the world. Problems were piled up, and every one of them was difficult. For an ordinary person like Van, they were far too heavy a burden. Van, who had failed to become a genius, could do nothing.

“! …What is this feeling?”

He lifted his lowered face. There was nothing around him. All that entered his sight was the cleared land. The forest had retreated to a position quite far away. This was because Zeke called forth storms every night and carved away at the forest. The monsters that had originally lived there had been defeated by Zeke, and their territory had been taken.

As if being guided, Van began walking through that cleared Forest of Death. Little by little, he broke into a jog, and then, as if certain of something, he started running.

(He’s here! I don’t have a reason or proof, but he’s definitely here. My father is!)

The dense mana caused the difficulty of detection to soar. Van himself was certainly not especially good at sensing presences. Even so, he felt it: the presence of his own father. The presence of Elzen, whom he had not seen once since Masfelt collapsed.

His body, exhausted in both mind and body, moved as if that exhaustion had been a lie. Perhaps because of the results of his training, he ran through the forest faster than ever before. Whether by coincidence or not, not a single one of the many monsters was there. Without anyone getting in his way, he advanced through the giant trees and finally caught sight of them. Elzen, the spirit who called himself Pariaach, and Zeke were facing one another.

(Are they talking about something?)

He slowed down, quietly approached as close as he could, then hid behind a tree and watched the situation. His heart pounded violently.

Fortunately or unfortunately, neither Elzen nor Zeke noticed Van’s presence. The mana flowing through this land was so abnormal that even the senses of these two powerful people were disturbed. However, the spirit Pariaach was different. There was no way he would overlook the approach of an inheritor of a key. …And yet, for some reason, he showed no reaction.

“That thing is third-rate. No matter how much you train him, there will be no return. You should understand that very well.”

(Is he… talking about me?)

Judging from the situation, was Elzen talking about Van? What did he intend by coming all the way to such a remote place?

“The dead Sword Saint personally instructed him, and that was all he became. He has zero talent for magic. His handling of mana is below average. And most fatal of all, his talent with the sword is ordinary. The fact that he is alive now is nothing more than coincidence.”

“…”

Cold words. From a certain point onward, warmth had vanished from Elzen. He had been that way ever since. …Even so, Van had still been able to feel a parent’s kindness toward his child. Now, that was completely gone.

“If I had inherited the Freak Style… I would have expelled him without fail. A weak swordsman has no value.”

Long ago, Masfelt and Elzen had trained together. The young Van had often watched their matches, and sometimes he had received instruction from Elzen. He still remembered those very gentle eyes.

(I see… So all of that was a lie too.)

Van had held a faint hope inside him. Perhaps Elzen was trying to destroy the world for a reason that could not be helped. Perhaps he had intentionally said nothing in order not to drag Van into it. That thought was crushed all too easily.

“Those without power have no value. Those who live in inertia without thinking in a false world are no different from the dead. You, no, as a Lagias, you should be able to understand.”

Elzen’s words rejected Van. That fact opened a hole in Van’s heart.

“I will say it as many times as necessary. That thing is defective.”

“…I suppose so. He is hopeless trash.”

(! So that’s how it is after all. You too, you think I’m…)

His vision would not settle. The sensation that the ground beneath him was swaying brought nausea with it. Van weakly sank to the ground.

“He has no power and no sense. His thinking is still that of a child, and he is endlessly naive. He is nothing more than a weakling who tries to preserve himself by looking away from inconvenient reality. Truly unbearable to watch.”

“Then what you are doing is—”

“For now.”

“…What?”

“It is true that right now, he is nothing but useless trash. A third-rate swordsman who does not reach even your feet. However, the one who will crush you is Van Freak.”

(…Huh? What did he just…)

A strong light pierced the vision that had nearly gone dark. Heat lit in his cold body.

“No return no matter how much I train him? Are you an idiot? I am here because there is a prospect of victory. I do not intend to end this with ‘you tried your best.’”

A storm of strong words gave Elzen no opening to argue back.

“If you had inherited the Freak Style, you say? What a worthless delusion. How disgusting. Do not speak of the Sword Saint after throwing away the sword. It makes me sick.”

“…”

Insults exploded without mercy even against Elzen. A verbal attack that would have broken Van’s heart under normal circumstances was, for the current Van, nothing but strong words that pushed him forward. His vision blurred with tears.

“The Sword Saint was a true swordsman. You are a fake victim-complex bastard. In that case, what do you think that failure is?”

“…Say it.”

“The hero who will bury you.”

(What is with that guy? Why would he go that far for me…)

Van’s face was a terrible mess of tears and snot. When was the last time he had cried this much? If he did not grit his teeth, sobs would leak out.

“If it is only sword talent, he is above you, and even above me. Someday, he will become a Sword Saint who surpasses Masfelt.”

“I wondered what you would say, but that is precisely convenient delusion. —Did losing your parents tear out your fangs? You are strangely meek.”

“Hah. You are quite good at self-analysis. Are you tormented by guilt at this late date? …No, I suppose that is only natural. You could only target him while he was weakened by illness. It must be unbearably shameful.”

Zeke began laughing loudly. Van could sense Elzen catching his breath.

“You could not see that failure’s talent. That is why you are worthless. I will say it as many times as necessary. The one who will crush you is Van.”

(I… was a complete idiot. I decided on my own that I had no talent and gave up on everything. Even though Zeke had higher expectations for me than anyone.)

Now he understood. He understood why people gathered around Zeke. He understood Luke and the others, who placed absolute trust in him. He understood Eris and the others, who had risked their lives to protect him even if it meant opposing the country.

“Father!”

“!?”

Without thinking about what came next, Van leapt out. He had no sword, and his body was battered. Even so, his heart was strong. If he did not convey his feelings here and now, he felt he would never be able to speak to him again.

Elzen and Zeke’s eyes widened for an instant in surprise.

“I’m not strong, just like you say. I might be defective. …Even so, I’ll fight. I will absolutely… defeat you, Father. Because that is what I have to do.”

“What can you do when you have continued to look away from reality?”

“It isn’t about whether I can or can’t. I’ll fight. I absolutely won’t run.”

“This is kind of different from the development I expected.”

“…You knew, didn’t you, Pariaach?”

Elzen glared at Pariaach, who laughed innocently.

“Well, fine. If you say you will challenge me, I will show no mercy. I will meet you on that land.”

Elzen was enveloped in Pariaach’s ancient magic. It was the same as when Tret kidnapped Atri before. In other words, the next time they encountered Elzen would be at the site of the final battle.

“In the end, what did you people come here for? Have you lost your minds?”

“…You truly are an interesting boy.”

Space split open, and Elzen and Pariaach vanished. The atmosphere of the forest, which had been filled with an abnormal air to begin with, returned to normal. The existence of a spirit must have been that abnormal.

“I’ll chase you no matter how far you go. I’ll protect the world.”

Van felt as if his dimmed vision had cleared.