Episode 5

Instruction had begun, and two months had passed.

Ordinarily, you would start with practice swings and make getting used to the sword the first objective, but Zeke didn’t need that, so the training emphasized live-combat formats.

With every bout he felt growth, and he showed smooth, sharp blade-work again and again.

Naturally, the lessons grew heated, and only while he was swinging his sword each day did he feel a sense of fulfillment. It was a feeling he hadn’t known since his son collapsed.

“—That’s enough. Let’s take a short break.”

“Hmph. Your stamina seems about what it should be for your age.”

His mouth was still foul, but lately Brink had come to think that wasn’t all there was to him.

Training varied by day, but was basically conducted for half a day. Breaks were scheduled during the process, and sometimes water and light snacks were provided.

It might have been out of consideration for the instructor, but Brink couldn’t imagine the Lagias couple—with their strong elitist mindset—taking that kind of approach.

When he casually checked with the servants, it seemed Zeke was the one giving the orders. For some reason, he also made sure his parents wouldn’t notice.

“Thank you as always, Zeke-sama.”

“What are you talking about? Stop spouting nonsense and take your break already.”

Even when he offered thanks, he didn’t get a proper reply; still, Brink had lived by the creed that courtesy should be answered with courtesy. It didn’t matter if the other party was a child or the ill-reputed House of Lagias.

“You’re coming from the Rent Domain… Hmph, the likes of you shouldn’t come near the Lagias Domain.”

“I have a son… Once your business is done, get lost.”

“You’ve got unavoidable errands? Your presence hardly changes anything. Don’t show your face until you’ve wrapped them up.”

To some ears, those sounded like harsh words—but Brink could sense that, in his own way, Zeke was showing concern for him.

What lay behind that overbearing attitude? By pretending to be someone else in front of his parents, what was he trying to accomplish?

Not just the talent with the sword—what was this boy’s essence, and what future was he heading toward?

For better or worse, Brink couldn’t help being preoccupied with him.

(Not a joke! If he quits on me, who knows when the next one will come!?)

For Hiroto’s part, he had done nothing more than take painstaking care not to hurt Brink’s feelings. It was all for the sake of his own life.

Lately, his son’s condition had worsened. The boy had been bedridden, but as long as he didn’t put heavy strain on his body—chatting in daily conversations or reading books—it hadn’t been a problem.

Now, even moving a little had become difficult, and if he forced himself, pain flared through his entire body. Liquid food had become the basic diet, and at night he fell asleep as if fainting, groaning in pain.

They couldn’t identify the cause of the illness, and the physician declared he didn’t have long.

Brink said he would pay any amount and sought collaborators, but gained no favorable results.

He stood on the brink of despair.

“—You. What is that disgraceful state?”

Before he knew it, Zeke’s sword was at his throat.

“My apologies, Zeke-sama. I was lost in thought.”

“Does the order you served in allow daydreaming during training? Sounds like a very convenient workplace.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then do something about that idiotic face.”

What Zeke said was perfectly reasonable. He had no business bringing private matters into this. But Brink had grown so weak in body and mind that he had lost the ability to judge clearly.

“…What are you fretting over? A fool’s shallow thoughts do nothing but waste time.”

“This is a private matter.”

“Speak. That’s an order. Or do you defy your employer?”

Some might have flared up at Zeke—but Brink no longer had anyone to cling to. Even if the listener was a twelve-year-old boy, the same age as his son, he wanted someone to hear him out.

Brink spoke—about how his son had collapsed about a year ago. He described, holding back tears, how they’d shown him to many doctors, yet he weakened day by day, and now pain kept him from moving at all.

“It hurts when he moves… Give me more details.”

He was bedridden, but conversation and eating had been fine. Then it had suddenly worsened; even turning over was impossible from the pain. It was as if his body were turning to stone.

“—Are you an idiot? Showing him to ordinary doctors won’t cure this.”

“…What exactly do you mean?”

“I can’t be definitive without seeing him directly. But judging by the symptoms, the likelihood is high that it’s mana sclerosis.”

“Mana sclerosis”?

In “Wish Soul,” everyone was born with mana, though there were individual differences.

Mana circulated, just like blood circulated through the body. If blood flow were cut off, cells rotted and eventually necrosed. So what happened in the case of mana?

If for some reason the internal flow of mana stopped, the surrounding areas hardened bit by bit. At first it was only a sense that the body was off, but the symptoms worsened and movement became impossible. In the end, the hardening spread through the entire body and death followed.

“Mana sclerosis? I’ve never heard of such a disease. And we tried recovery magic many times… but it didn’t work!”

“Recovery magic has no effect on mana sclerosis. That’s all.”

“Then what should I have done!? I only wanted to live quietly with my son. How did it come to this…”

“You talk as if he were already dead. Are you giving up?”

“I… I have nothing left…”

He had searched over and over, stealing from sleep. He had juggled grueling duties as a knight while turning to doctors, magicians, and the written word. Even so, his son hadn’t recovered.

“…If I told you there was a specific remedy, what would you do?”

“A specific remedy? I asked apothecaries; such a thing—”

“Idiot. If it doesn’t exist, make it.”

“Even a noble can’t produce a specific cure so easily.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Will you let him die?”

“…Do you know something?”

“The basilisk. It’s the key to the remedy.”

“—! A basilisk… The poison dragon?”

The poison dragon, the basilisk—one of the monsters that appeared as a boss in the story.

Its wings were vestigial, so it couldn’t fly, but in return it had powerful talons. A single hit inflicted huge damage, but the most troublesome thing was its breath attack, laced with venom.

There were other enemies that inflicted the poisoned status, but basilisk venom could not be cured by a single recovery spell. Only after using it multiple times would the poisoned status lift.

Until recovery, damage over time continued, and the damage increased exponentially as time passed.

“Why the basilisk? And if we’re talking about slaying it, the risk is far too high.”

As for “why,” Hiroto could only answer: because that was how the game worked. As he remembered it, you synthesized the basilisk’s poison sac and scales with a peculiar medicinal herb to make a remedy. He couldn’t possibly understand the principles, but he pushed through regardless.

“Quit squawking over every little thing. Do you have any alternatives?”

“That’s…”

“Bedridden. Pain even from slight movement. It’s already terminal.”

Brink’s face twisted in anguish.

“If we fail, he dies—and if we do nothing, he dies. —Of course, it could also be that we’ve misidentified the illness.”

It was the first concrete clue to a treatment. He didn’t want to lose anything ever again.

“Choose, Brink. If you want to change an absurd reality.”

Zeke’s sharp gaze pierced him. Those cold blue eyes seemed to declare that fence-sitting would not be allowed.

“…Zeke-sama. Please, help me save my son.”

He clung to a boy the same age as his child. Normally, it was an unthinkable choice—but it was no longer a situation where he could pick and choose his means.

“Hmph. Then get ready. Now.”

“When you say ‘get ready’… First we must learn where the poison dragon’s lair is.”

Having played “Wish Soul” many times, Hiroto knew not only the basilisk’s habitat but also the strategy inside and out. His only concern was whether knowledge from the original would be useful in this world.

“You really are low on intellect. Why would I hand out information without purpose? It’s asleep in a cave in the Talk Mountains.”

Hiroto had set his sights on a basilisk that wasn’t tied to the main story.

Conveniently, the Talk Mountains weren’t far from the Lagias Domain.

“—! If you’ve pinpointed its lair, we should hurry and call for reinforcements—”

“Are you stupid? Who would deliberately wake a sleeping dragon? Besides, we don’t have that kind of time.”

Even at the request of a former regimental commander, the order of knights wasn’t likely to cooperate for an unproven cure. At worst, civilians could be harmed.

“Then…”

“Obviously. The two of us will do it.”

He wasn’t saving Brink out of pure goodwill. This was a chance to gain his first real combat experience and a perfect opportunity to learn how this world worked. Above all, he couldn’t afford to lose the instructor he had finally secured.

“Listen. Gather everything I’m about to list and come tomorrow. We’ll take a carriage straight to the mountain’s foot.”

“Understood. But how will you explain this to your parents?”

“Easy. Tell them it’s for combat experience. Besides, it’ll be done in a day.”