Witnessing the ruthless public harassnt of soone calling himself a "Hero" with my own eyes, the Librarian's words hamred into my head like a nail.
"That conceited son of a bitch..."
"ssin' with inspired young blood like that..."
"Just 'cause he happened to be blessed..."
Right after, the subdued comnts of the knights around , flowing from fellow trainees and higher-ranking seniors alike, reverberated in the air as a sea of low rumbles.
From all the way at the back of the crowd, I pierced the "Hero" through with my eyes.
Subconsciously, I clenched my fists.
'You want to kill that guy...?'
That so-called "Hero", his nostrils flaring in contempt at the victim's submission, raised a hand slowly into the air. Would he strike that squire? That kid, who was apparently training to beco a royal knight despite being a couple of years younger than even ?
Surely, he would have done―were he not disturbed at that mont.
"-!? Who dares--"
"Now, what do you think you're doing to my squire, fledgling Hero?"
An older man of extraordinarily large stature, built like a human tank or a gorilla even without donning a suit of armour, gripped the "Hero's" arm tight. His deep voice resounded throughout the entire training area, putting a deafening silence to those furious murmurs of the audience.
I, too, had my eyes widen at the sight.
After all, that man... Didn't he just appear out of nowhere?
"...Tsk!"
Without even giving a single word of retort, the "Hero" simply clicked his tongue and batted the newcor's arm before turning away.
"And where do you think you're going now?"
At the tank's call, it was apparent the "Hero" couldn't resist talking back.
"Hh-! What, you expect to stay and train your silly little 'sword arts' with these peasants? I've had enough."
"Oh, no. I'm afraid you aren't going anywhere."
"Huh...? Is a lowlife like you going to order the Hero around? I don't need sothing useless like your inane swordsmanship―the Goddess' favour is all I need to make a mockery of those demon scum! You, too, are no more than an oversized pig rat from the slums, right?! Don't even think of getting in my way, Knight of the Lard!"
Despite having an-spirited words spat out at him and being called nas like that, the older man, stroking his short brown beard with an expression as if this was an everyday occurrence, calmly replied.
"I believe you've already been told that my na is George, Hero. Maybe we should get that mory checked out for you. In any case, if you desire to skip training so, prove to here that it is of no benefit to you. If you can do that, I'll let you go with no questions asked. However, if you cannot land a single strike, then you will undergo the sa training as everybody else. Understand?"
At those words, George, who evidently sat in a higher position than any ordinary knight, drew the sword at his waist. Ah, he actually had a sword positioned on both sides of his waist, but the one he unsheathed was a wooden sword, evidently purposed for sparring.
Just like that, a duel had been initiated.
'...Wait. Isn't this a bit unfair? That guy is bloody massive.'
My first assumption was that he wielded a training sword because using a steel one could lead to serious harm, but after thinking about it, it's also probably because this tank of a man didn't even need to use a steel sword to deal with that asshole in the first place.
If I were to make a guess just by looking at the situation thus far, he was a "Hero" in na only, and though he might possess so amount of power, the vast majority of it probably lied in his status rather than physical prowess...
In that case, then, there's surely no way he would accept a duel with George, right?
"Grh! You asked for it, so don't back down now!"
My expectations were thus dashed as without an ounce of hesitation, the "Hero" drew his sword.
The sheathe alone, snow white with an ornate pattern of gold sprawling across its surface, was undoubtedly sothing of impressive craftsmanship, but the contained weapon itself was even more worthy of note. Albeit unquestionably superior to the one I possessed―with a sleek, elegant design and fancy engravings throughout the peculiar, white blade―it didn't at all look like sothing soone as young as him should be handling.
To be precise, it bore the appearance of an item more along the lines of a ceremonial or ornantal blade. Gilded edges, a large dull jewel socketed at the base of the blade, and most prominently, the fact it emanated a luminescent glow―similar in essence to that of my new invisible tattoo, I suppose.
That thing, which I could only view as being comparable to an end-ga rare item in so RPG.
It was, truly, a legendary blade.
'But, even if he has that...'
Indeed, one person's weapon was of far, far, far greater 'rarity' than the other, but it didn't look like it made even the slightest of differences.
It was obvious what the outco would be before anyone had even made their first move.
Even if it weren't for the looks on these knights' faces, who seed to desperately wish for the "Hero" to be taken down a peg, the human tank George exuded this indescribable pressure that pushed down on even the spectating like an invisible weight.
Bearing that pressure, so overflowing it affected the surroundings in such a manner, I peeled my eyes open.
"Feel free to co at whenever you wish. For fairness' sake, I allow you the first move."
"Shut it, lardo. I'm concentrating."
The two remained still for a few monts, with the Hero being the only one looking tense. Then, just as I was thinking the fight was never going to begin, sothing flashed―I couldn't make sense of it, but there was no ti.
"Aaaaarrrgghhh...!!"
The Hero's war cry resounded as he charged, brandishing that glamorous blade. In a matter of monts, he reached the other, standing over a dozen tres away.
But then.
Thud-!
The Hero collapsed―
"A-ahh, gaaaaaahh...!"
―And imdiately began to bawl in pain, clutching his body.
"Woaaaaahh...!"
"Nice one, Captain!"
"Hit him in the dick next ti...!"
All around , as if they had just watched their favourite team score in the finals, the observing knights erupted with great vigour. anwhile, I gawked with an open mouth at the scene, snapping my gaze repeatedly between the lightly smirking tank and the defeated Hero.
That knight, he...
'...Didn't move?'
I couldn't understand it.
When the Hero charged, the tank―George had definitely stood with the sword held loosely at his side, as if he wasn't even part of the duel to begin with. Then, when the Hero reached him and swung, it absolutely should have connected... But, he just fell to the ground instead?
Without a single hair on his body having even been touched?
There really was no movent from George in the slightest, not that I could tell.
There was no swing of the blade, no punch, no kick―nothing that could have indicated a defensive, offensive, or any other kind of retaliatory manoeuvre from the one on the defensive. He was, still, standing in the sa position, in the sa spot, with the sa subtle smirk on his face.
Of course, it was obvious that sothing must have happened for the Hero to lose, and hearing the knights' reaction to it, they probably knew what it was...
But, although I didn't notice it myself, I also soon began to realise the truth of the matter.
It wasn't that he didn't do anything.
Rather, it was that my eyes couldn't perceive his movent.
He was simply too fast for to be aware of it. I was sure―There was no other explanation, so that had to be it.
'Is that even possible...?'
I questioned myself, but I didn't need an answer. Because I watched it all happen right in front of . I didn't blink or anything like that. I didn't think my kinetic vision was that bad, and it's not like I needed glasses, but after that, I was beginning to doubt myself.
At least, the only thing I understood was why he was only using a wooden sword.
"Ghh... Son of a... bitch..."
Watching the Hero writhe around on the ground for a while, bearing possibly the scariest scowl I had ever seen, I was abruptly reminded.
[Enki... Please, with all of my being, I implore you.]
Reminded―by that voice.
[I-it may be sudden, and I sincerely apologise for the blunder, however, I have no choice but to ask for your assistance... We have almost entirely run out of energy due to the recruitnt, and because the Illusory Spirit is dormant, you are the only person I can rely on...!]
That voice, which had turned solemn, pleading.
[O-once we return you from the Illusory World, we can find another hire, I'm sure... I-if you grant the ti to extract the Authority of the Library from your body, I'll be able to send you ho for good and find soone else to replace your position, so please... Just this once...]
'Just this once'.
She wanted to kill a person. To rob a life. To end a soul.
Just this one, singular ti.
Frankly, I couldn't even laugh at how absurd a request that was.
As a reward, what would I get? To go ho? To see my friends, my family?
Commit murder――To be free.
"..."
...To be honest, I don't think I have much of a decision to make, do I?
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