[Rudeus POV]
I already know that Claude will focus on the Metastasis Event, as I also want to search for my family, but I'm thinking of bringing Eris back to Roa first before beginning my search. After returning Eris to her homeland, I likely won't need to continue the search myself—it might already be accomplished through Claude and Mike's cooperation.
As we continue our journey along the path, I notice Geese still trying to distance himself from superstitions.
"It doesn't seem like they're helping you much, considering you ended up in prison," I remark.
He shrugs with practiced nonchalance. "Well, if they're not planning to attend the party, then it's fine if they're not."
Our traveling party has grown by two since we started. We've entrusted the carriage to our tireless steed as we continue moving past the Great Forest.
The road ahead is remarkably straightforward—a path stretching right over the horizon, leading directly to the capital of the Saint Milis Kingdom.
I find myself wondering about the nature of this peculiar path. There are no monsters whatsoever, and the water drainage is surprisingly efficient for what appears to be an ancient construction. Just as these questions form in my mind, Geese begins explaining.
"The one who created this road," he says, gesturing widely at the perfect highway beneath our feet, "was the founder of the Milis Church—the world's largest religious organization."
"Saint Milis?" I ask.
"Exactly. This path is supposedly the result of a single swing of Saint Milis' sword." Geese describes how it sliced straight through mountains and forest, reportedly even cutting down a Demon King on the Demon Continent.
"Since that story spread," he concludes, "this road became known as the 'Holy Sword Highway.'"
There's no way that can be true, is what I want to think, but I can't deny the evidence before me. Even now, Saint Milis' magic power lingers in the air—a faint shimmer visible at dawn and dusk if you know what to look for.
As proof of this lingering power, we've had absolutely no encounters with monsters, and our carriage has never once gotten stuck in mud despite recent rains.
Full sails, favorable wind. It's truly a miracle.
I understand now why the Milis Church wields such tremendous influence across the continent. However, I'm also wary of the potential negative effects such concentrated magic power might have on the body.
What we call "magic power" is undeniably convenient, but it also causes animals to transform into monsters and enabled the catastrophic teleportation of countless people—including two children from the Central Continent to the Demon Continent. The abundance of magic power here is both awe-inspiring and somewhat terrifying...
Well, at least we can travel with relative ease knowing no monsters will attack us. Along the sides of the highway, there are designated points at specified distances intended for camping. At these spots, we make our preparations to rest.
Ruijerd ventures into the forest and returns with whatever game is convenient to catch. There are no real problems with food acquisition here.
Occasionally, a beast race merchant from a nearby village emerges to sell goods, but we have little need to purchase anything.
The Great Forest boasts an abundance of vegetation. Many plants growing alongside the highway can be used as spices—I gather these using the Plant Encyclopedia I once studied as reference. Despite this bounty, my cooking skills remain mediocre. Even though they've improved considerably over the past year, my cuisine has merely shifted from "bad" to "slightly bad."
The quality of ingredients in the Great Forest far surpasses those of the Demon Continent. Here, we encounter not just monsters but regular animals as well—rabbits and boars that are ordinary, non-magical creatures.
The meat from these animals is delicious enough on its own, but given such quality ingredients, I find myself craving even better-prepared food. The quest for good food should always be approached with a healthy appetite for improvement.
It's here that Geese reveals another of his talents. He proves to be a master of camp cooking—using the grasses and berries I've gathered to create spices that, almost as if by magic, magnificently enhance the flavor of our meat.
"I told you, didn't I?" he says with a self-satisfied grin. "I can do anything."
It wasn't just idle boasting. The meat he prepares is truly delicious—so much so that I nearly embrace him in gratitude.
"Amazing! Hold me!" I exclaim, immediately regretting my overenthusiastic reaction.
It feels awkward for both of us.
"It's boring."
Eris mutters this as we prepare today's meal yet again.
Our roles have settled into an efficient pattern: Ingredients: Ruijerd Fire and Water: Me Cooking: Geese
Eris has no part in this perfect distribution of responsibilities. Even Claude contributes little, mostly tinkering with his enchantment items.
At best, Eris might collect firewood, but here in the middle of a forest, such a task is completed quickly.
Therefore, she is understandably bored.
Initially, she occupied herself by practicing sword swings. Since Ghislaine and I conditioned her through repetition training, she can swing a sword for hours without tiring. Even so, if you were to ask whether that's an interesting way to pass time, the answer is evidently no.
Currently, Ruijerd is hunting, Geese is preparing soup, and I'm working on carving a small figurine. Claude, as usual, is absorbed in manipulating his artifacts—a complex array of tiny tools and magical components spread before him like a watchmaker's bench.
I still have quite a way to go before completing this 1/10 scale Ruijerd figure. It should sell well though. I've already planned the marketing: "You will never be attacked by the Superd race if you possess this. Instead, you will be able to befriend them." Or something along those lines.
Putting that aside, Eris has clearly reached her limit with boredom.
"Hey! Geese!" she calls out suddenly.
"What is it, young lady? The food's not ready yet," Geese responds, turning while testing the flavor of his simmering soup.
Eris assumes her usual commanding posture, hands on hips and chin raised slightly.
"Teach me cooking!"
"No way."
His reply comes instantly, without a moment's consideration. Geese simply continues his cooking as though nothing had happened.
Eris stands dumbfounded, blinking in the afternoon light. However, she quickly recovers and raises her voice.
"Why?!"
"Because I don't want to teach you."
"Like I said, WHY?!"
Geese releases a deep, weary sigh.
"Listen, young lady. Swordsmen are best off thinking of nothing but fighting. Trying to cook is pointless. It's fine as long as you can eat it."
Incidentally, this man's cooking far exceeds the "fine as long as you can eat it" level. His skill approaches professional quality—good enough that he could open his own establishment.
His dishes wouldn't make royalty swoon with ecstasy, but they'd certainly earn a reputation in any neighborhood.
"But, if I can cook... umm... you know?" Eris stammers, stealing glances in my direction, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
What is it, Eris? What are you trying to say? Please feel free to speak directly.
"I don't get it at all," Geese states coldly.
I'm puzzled by his demeanor toward Eris. He's unusually harsh with her, while treating Ruijerd and me with relative warmth. Something about Eris specifically seems to make him create distance.
"Doesn't the young lady have talent with the sword? Something like cooking you don't need."
"But..." Eris begins to protest.
"Being able to fight is something to be happy about, you know? There's nothing more than what you need to live in this world.
Learning too many skills will just make your well-polished talent lose its focus."
Eris makes a slightly unpleasant face, but remarkably, she doesn't resort to hitting Geese as she might have done months ago. For some reason, Geese's words carry an odd power of persuasion.
"Though that's just my front excuse," he adds unexpectedly.
Geese nods to himself and stops stirring the soup. He begins serving it into the stone bowls I crafted—another small contribution to our traveling household.
"You know, I decided long ago never to teach anyone cooking again."
As we settle with our meals, Geese reveals he was once part of a six-member party that cleared labyrinths.
Everyone besides him could perform only a single specialized skill—they were all remarkably clumsy people outside their areas of expertise.
The Geese of that time had a pet phrase: "You guys really can't do anything besides that."
Despite this imbalance, the party managed quite well. However, one day, one of the women from the party approached Geese wanting to learn cooking.
"If you want to catch a man, start by grabbing his stomach," she had told him. The strategy seemed sound.
Geese reluctantly agreed to teach her. Whether because of her newfound cooking skills or for other reasons, the woman successfully won over one of the men in their party. Soon after, they married and left the group.
When two key members suddenly departed, the party's dynamics crumbled. What remained devolved into a spiral of arguments and apathy.
They failed to complete jobs properly and quickly disbanded.
Despite this setback, Geese—being a man of many talents—believed he would quickly find another party.
The result was a crushing defeat.
Though Geese had built something of a reputation as an adventurer, no party would accept him. The reason eventually became clear: Geese could do anything... but everything he could do, others could do as well. In high-ranking parties, members typically specialized in distinct roles.
Geese finally realized the truth. He had found his place in that particular party precisely because it was filled with specialists who were clumsy outside their expertise. His versatility complemented their limitations.
After this revelation, Geese abandoned adventuring midway through his career. He decided instead to live as a player—a gambler.
"That's why, you know," he concludes, staring into his soup, "women are no good for cooking."
"It's a jinx," he adds softly.
If you were to ask me, Geese's superstition seems baseless. Teaching cooking skills shouldn't bring misfortune. This soup alone is evidence of that—just a single spoonful creates a "fireworks" sensation throughout my mouth. I find myself wanting to learn from him as well.
Hoping to convince him, I offer a different perspective.
"I understand the unfortunate outcome for your party," I say carefully, "but the woman who learned to cook ended up happy, right?"
Since that's the case, I think silently, teach us.
Geese shakes his head slowly.
"I don't know if the woman ended up happy or not. I haven't seen her since."
But then Geese laughs quietly to himself, a sound tinged with melancholy.
"As for the man... he might have been happy. Or maybe not."
Therefore, it's a jinx, I suppose.
Seeing his suddenly dejected expression, I feel unable to press the matter further. The soup that should have been delicious somehow loses a portion of its flavor.
I glance toward Claude, who has paused his tinkering and drawn closer to our conversation circle.
"That's an interesting story," Claude interjects, "but couldn't you simply have found another job besides adventuring?"
"Nah, I'm not interested in staying in one place," Geese replies. "Don't you see that adventuring is a man's Romance?"
"I get that!" I exclaim enthusiastically. "A man's Romance!"
"Why are you agreeing?" Claude asks me with an arched eyebrow. "Someone who was too afraid to leave their home until being dragged out by their teacher wants to embrace an adventurer's life? Seriously?"
Claude, damn you...
Well, I can't deny the truth of his observation.
"What? Senpai had that kind of past too?" Geese inquires, suddenly interested.
"Claude, tell me more about tiny Rudeus!" Eris demands eagerly, her earlier frustration forgotten.
Hey, don't call me tiny. It hurts my self-esteem...
With that opening, Claude begins recounting embarrassing chapters from my past. Geese listens attentively while Eris alternates between laughing loudly and shooting daggers at me when Claude mentions the incident where I took Sylphy's clothes...
Ruijerd, won't you hurry back and save me from this torment?
On a certain day during our journey, we discover a strange stone monument beside the road.
Standing about knee-high, its face is carved with an unusual emblem—a single letter surrounded by seven distinct symbols. If memory serves, the central character in Fighting God's language corresponds to "seven."
The other emblems seem vaguely familiar, though I can't place them precisely. I decide to consult Geese.
"Hey, what is this stone monument?"
Geese examines it briefly before nodding in recognition.
"That is the marker of the [Seven World Powers]."
"Seven World Powers? What's that?"
"It refers to the seven warriors acknowledged as the strongest in the world."
Geese explains that around the conclusion of the second great human-demon war, an individual known as the Technique God established this ranking. The Technique God was reputedly the most powerful being of that era.
This person selected seven names considered the strongest in the world, and these stone monuments were placed to commemorate that determination.
"If I remember correctly," Geese adds, "Danna should know more about it. Danna!"
At Geese's call, Ruijerd, who had been supervising Eris's training nearby, approaches us.
Behind him, Eris collapses to the ground, limbs splayed and chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath after an intense training session.
"The [Seven World Powers]," Ruijerd murmurs, eyes narrowing as he studies the monument. "That's nostalgic."
"Are you familiar with it, Ruijerd?" I ask.
"When I was young, I was among countless warriors who trained with the aspiration of being included among the [Seven World Powers]."
As he speaks, Ruijerd gazes into the distance, his eyes focusing on something far beyond our present surroundings. Exactly how far back is he remembering?
"It should be approximately 400 years old," Claude interjects. "Around the time of the Laplace War, correct?"
"What exactly do these emblems represent?" I inquire.
"Those are the crests of each individual," Ruijerd explains. "They still display the current seven names."
Ruijerd points to each symbol in turn, identifying the current seven titleholders:
Position One: "Technique God" Position Two: "Dragon God" Position Three: "Fighting God" Position Four: "Demon God" Position Five: "Death God" Position Six: "Sword God" Position Seven: "North God"
"That's impressive," I remark. "Though I've never heard of the [Seven World Powers] before."
"The [Seven World Powers] were widely recognized until around the time of the Laplace Campaign," Ruijerd explains, the weight of history evident in his voice.
"Why did people stop acknowledging them?"
"Major casualties occurred during the Laplace Campaign, and half of the titleholders vanished."
With the exception of the Technique God, all of the [Seven World Powers] participated in the Laplace Campaign. The outcome was devastating: three died, one disappeared without a trace, and another was sealed away.
The only one who survived relatively unscathed was the Dragon God of that era.
In subsequent centuries, new individuals rose to claim the vacant titles, but those who eventually occupied the positions of the [Lower World Powers] fell far short of embodying the word "strongest."
Even more significantly, the whereabouts of four of the highest-ranking titleholders remain unknown:
Technique God: Missing Dragon God: Missing Fighting God: Missing Demon God (Laplace): Sealed Away
With those undisputedly recognized as the strongest in the higher ranks absent, the concept of the [Seven World Powers] gradually faded from collective memory.
Interestingly, the Demon God Laplace was never removed from the ranking because he wasn't killed—merely sealed away.
"How many people are still alive from that era?" I wonder aloud.
"Even 400 years ago," Ruijerd notes, "the existence of the Technique God was becoming questionable."
"Why did the Technique God create this ranking system in the first place?"
"It was said to be 'to find someone who can defeat me,' but I don't know the precise details."
So it wasn't particularly profound after all.
"This monument is obviously ancient," I observe, running my fingers over the weathered stone. "Couldn't the rankings have changed by now?"
Geese shakes his head emphatically.
"No, they automatically update through magic."
"Really? How does that work?"
"How would I know?" he responds with a shrug.
Apparently, the inscriptions on the monument change autonomously. I wonder about the magical mechanics behind such a phenomenon. There's still so much about this world's magic I don't understand.
Perhaps if I attend the Magic University someday, I'll learn about such sophisticated enchantments.
In any case, the [Seven World Powers]... Further evidence that many individuals in this world possess abilities that seem like cheating. I'm not sure I can ever catch up.
Well, it's not as though I'm striving to become the strongest in the world. I'd rather avoid entanglement with such overwhelmingly powerful beings altogether.
It takes us one month to traverse the Great Forest—just a single month. We manage to pass through the entire expanse in that relatively brief time.
The path never deviates from its straight course, and we encounter not a single monster. This allows us to focus entirely on forward progress—one reason for our swift journey—but the exceptional performance of our horses also contributes significantly.
The equines of this world seem impervious to fatigue. They can gallop for ten hours daily without rest, showing no signs of exhaustion the following morning.
I suspect they draw upon some form of magical energy.
We pass through the forest with remarkable smoothness. If I were to mention any mishap, it would only be the hemorrhoids I developed along the way—which I naturally healed in secret using magic, telling no one.
Eris, in the name of training, frequently stands atop the moving carriage. Despite my warnings about danger, she displays a balancing ability that makes my concerns seem foolish.
Claude remains... well, Claude. What exactly he does during our journey isn't always clear, but I can sense the steady accumulation of power in his creations.
It's peculiar seeing something akin to a battery in this medieval world, but he's managed to craft one.
"It's for emergencies," he explains when I inquire. "A storage device for excess mana. I developed the concept after studying the mana stones in the dungeon, then implemented it."
I attempt to replicate his technique but fail miserably.
Creating this mana backup system is evidently not a universal skill. It requires several prerequisites:
First, exceptional control over one's mana—precise manipulation approximating the finesse needed to form a mana thread for magical surgery.
Second, remarkable pain tolerance. For reasons I don't understand, channeling mana into Claude's container causes excruciating pain.
I can't comprehend how he endures it. Perhaps he harbors masochistic tendencies?
Finally, there's the container itself—a specialized vessel Claude crafted during our journey. It's composed of a unique stone created through the combination of several magical elements. The material exhibits high mana conductivity without being fragile and minimizes leakage.
According to Claude's estimates, what he terms a "Mana Storage" can preserve energy for approximately one year without use. It can also be recharged repeatedly.
While not particularly fragile, it incorporates safety measures preventing accidental breakage. However, Claude mentions that if deliberately shattered, it would "go boom!"—serving as another offensive option.
Apparently, the Mana Storage can power nine beginner spells, six intermediate spells, or three advanced spells based on his trials.
Using the device's full capacity will cause it to break, so one must cease drawing power before completely depleting the stored mana.
Despite my interest, my enchantment skills remain rudimentary, so I must explore alternative methods. It's a notable innovation—storing excess daily mana rather than wasting it—but such a technique seems applicable only to someone of Claude's capabilities.
Unlike him, I can't afford to deliberately deplete my mana reserves, then find myself without magical resources during an emergency...
Setting aside Claude's arcane tinkering, I find myself intrigued by Eris's carriage-balancing training. When I attempt to imitate her, my legs tremble uncontrollably the following day.
Eris truly is remarkable.
We reach a valley passage through the Blue Dragon Mountain Range. Its entrance features a town with an inn district.
The Dwarf race manages the local accommodations. There's no adventurer's guild here, but the settlement is renowned for its blacksmithing.
Weapon and armor shops stand shoulder to shoulder along the main thoroughfare.
Geese informs us that the swords sold here are both affordable and high quality.
Eris's expression suggests she wants everything in sight, but our finances don't permit such indulgence. After all, crossing from Milis to the Central Continent will incur significant expenses, especially with a Superd accompanying us.
We cannot afford frivolous spending.
The sword Eris currently wields is perfectly adequate—a weapon Claude crafted during our stay in the village.
Still, I remain a man at heart. Seeing these formidable swords and armor arranged in gleaming rows stirs excitement regardless of age.
That said, the issue of age-appropriate attire remains problematic.
The dwarf shopkeeper laughs as he says, "I don't think that suits you, boy?"
When I inform him that, appearances notwithstanding, I've achieved the intermediate level of the Sword God style, he expresses mild surprise.
Without money to spend, however, the interaction concludes with some good-natured teasing.
According to Geese, this location marks where the highway branches into multiple paths.
Continuing east along the mountain supposedly leads to a major dwarf settlement. Northeast takes travelers to elven territories, while northwest reveals sprawling halfling regions.
This town lacks an adventurers' guild, likely due to its remote location.
Additionally, heading toward the mountain apparently reveals hot springs.
Hot springs.
Now that's a topic of considerable interest to me.
"What's a hot spring?" Eris asks, unfamiliar with the concept.
"Natural hot water emerges from the mountain and collects in pools," I explain. "Bathing there feels extraordinary."
"That sounds interesting," she remarks. "But isn't this Rudeus's first time here? How do you know about hot springs?"
"I-I read about them in a book," I stammer, avoiding her questioning gaze.
I wonder if hot springs were mentioned in the travel guide [Walking the World]. If memory serves, they weren't featured.
Nevertheless, hot springs sound wonderful. This world likely lacks yukata, but...
My imagination conjures an image: wet hair, skin flushed pink, Eris relaxing in steaming water...
So hot springs do exist here. Though I doubt they feature mixed bathing. That would be different, wouldn't it?
Although in the one-in-ten-thousand chance mixed bathing is practiced, I wonder what might happen. It's something I absolutely must investigate.
"Since the rainy season just ended, the mountainside is probably treacherous right now," Geese interjects as I hesitate.
He explains that for those unaccustomed to mountain terrain, the journey would consume excessive time.
Given these constraints, we must abandon the hot springs plan.
How unfortunate.
Meanwhile, Claude expresses interest in learning from the dwarven craftsmen but restrains himself, recognizing his obligations to assist Mike and the Arbalest.
"I can always return later," he remarks casually, presenting Eris with a new sword—which she accepts with obvious delight.
The Holy Sword Highway enters the Blue Dragon Mountain Range through a narrow passage where only two carriages could travel abreast.
The path cuts directly through the mountain, following the valley floor. Perhaps thanks to Milis's divine protection, rockslides rarely occur here.
Without this route, travelers would face a massive detour to reach northern destinations.
While Blue Dragons seldom appear in these mountains, numerous other monsters inhabit the range, making any alternate passage extremely hazardous.
The shortcut created here—where no monsters manifest—further demonstrates why Saint Milis commands such devotion.
After three days, we successfully navigate the valley.
Just like that, we leave the Great Forest behind and enter human territory.
[Claude POV]
It's painfully obvious that Eris harbors romantic feelings for Rudeus. Her attempt to learn cooking from Geese—clearly intended to appeal to Rudeus—met with puzzling rejection.
I question Geese's motivations for refusing Eris's request. His story about past misfortune seems unconvincing, especially since he's expressed no desire to remain with our party long-term.
My own reluctance stems from my obligations to Arbalest, but Geese continues wandering without apparent purpose.
I know with unsettling certainty that he maintains contact with Human God. This doesn't necessarily make him dangerous, but it certainly makes him someone to watch carefully.
Although Geese demonstrates kindness, his zealous devotion to Human God's commands indicates questionable judgment. It's a mindset that Alex Cromwell would recognize immediately—the blind faith of a believer who will follow their revered figure's orders without question.
Not that I can take action against him. So I focus instead on developing the magic circle formula for enhancing my weapon box enchantment.
I've attempted to help with cooking previously, but my culinary efforts proved catastrophic—allegedly bad enough to render Ruijerd unconscious and send Geese running for the bushes for several days afterward. Since that incident, I've concentrated silently on magical development.
On multiple occasions, I've subtly hinted to Eris about Rudeus's relationship with Sylphiette in Buena, but my comments fall on deaf ears.
Sigh...
Is this the legendary luck of a harem protagonist? Their women remain untroubled by additional romantic entanglements?
Well, Paul clearly doesn't qualify as a harem protagonist after all, considering the perpetual discord in his love life.
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