After the funeral, the lord’s speech was brief.
“Let us all rejoice in having survived. And let us give thanks to those who helped us survive. By honoring the spirit of the heroes who stood firm, risking their lives for us, let us live more earnestly from this day forward.”
Though calm, his resonant voice seemed to seep directly into the brain rather than merely vibrate the eardrums. Each commonplace word sank deep into the consciousness with weight.
“The calamity is not yet over. However, as they have shown us, if we unite as one, we will surely overcome this crisis and return to days of joy.”
Without standing on a platform or using amplification magic, the force of his words was undeniable. The strength of the bloodline he inherited and the experience he cultivated emanated from him. His efforts in stabilizing the manor in a single generation were truly appreciated as he now helped soothe the hearts of the manor’s people.
At the very least, we don’t have the capacity right now to also console the villagers. Showing our faces while conducting our duties as lookouts and guards is the best we can do — anything more would exceed our limits.
“To welcome that day, let us endure together for a little while longer. Let us give thanks to our steadfast defenders, and glory to our fallen compatriots who protected us.”
As the lord extended his hand, his eldest daughter stepped forward with a wine bottle. The transparency of the glass bottle and its stylish label indicated it was quite an expensive item.
“Until we can erect a monument to ensure this battle is never forgotten, let this suffice.”
The cork was removed, and the fine wine was unhesitatingly poured onto the graves of the fallen and the burnt altar. Unprompted, applause arose, gradually spreading like waves to encompass everyone.
Beneath the presence of the God of Night Shadow, which was almost hidden, the hands raised in honor to those who fell in battle remained extended for a long time, showing no signs of stopping.
Finally, the lord raised his hand to conclude.
“Now, we have the mission of living the tomorrows that they gave us. Let us return today and remember them before we sleep.”
I was slightly surprised. I was prepared in case he would ask me to say something, but he appeared to be content to end the ceremony without forcing anyone.
Had he noticed my gaze? He gave a slight nod.
As if to say, “Leave the manor’s affairs to me.”
I watched the people of the manor disperse, leaving only the members of the Sword Friends Association. Those coming from outside were those replacing the vigilante group and watchmen. I had requested earlier to gather everyone here for a little while after the funeral was over.
I stood alone before the gathered adventurers. Now that the lord had done his duty, it was time for me to fulfill my responsibility to them.
“First, to our comrades who fell in battle — Lembach of Marsheim and Martain of Kilchel. To their struggle and sacrifice. Also, to Archy and Enzo of Mottenheim, who fought alongside us, became souls tied by brotherhood, and then passed on.”
I drew my sword and pressed it to my forehead; each member drew their own blades or, if devout, invoked the holy symbol of the main god, showing the highest respect.
Closing our eyes, we prayed for a moment. On confirmation that everyone had straightened up after the gesture, I began to speak.
“We are adventurers. We chose this job knowing full well the possibility of death after every battle. To be nibbled on by rats in a gutter, forgotten in the mud, or scattered across the forest to become fodder for beasts—these were the deaths that we accepted becoming adventurers. None among us are the weak-hearted souls who foolishly believe they alone will never die. This is clear from our shared work up to now and, more importantly, from the fact that no one left their post during the hellish events of last night.”
Their fighting that night was truly remarkable. Even in the dire situation we found ourselves in, no one abandoned their weapon and fled. People who become paralyzed with fear and are eaten away by cowardice will, regardless of whether they escape or not, instinctively drop their weapons and turn their backs.
Also, those who joined us in the siege did not shame themselves by attempting to run away or by hastily leaving their posts to rush in for rescue attempts. Those who cannot see beyond the immediate circumstances during both peacetime and emergencies are common, but they held firm and never underestimated the importance of remaining in their positions.
I am confident that few adventurers are so blessed with such a capable group. While it’s true I spent a great deal of skill points on leadership and morale-boosting techniques, the fact that they were able to win the battle last night was entirely thanks to their own abilities and pride.
“The two who fell in battle were no different. To the best of their ability as adventurers, they fought and ultimately passed. Their deaths were the result of choosing to protect their comrades and the people of the manor behind them with everything they had… but I am their leader. They fought and died under my command, and therefore, I refuse to shirk responsibility. I hereby renew my vow to reward their efforts.”
I thrust the Sending Wolf into the ground and placed both hands on the hilt, standing tall even without a proper sword. My gaze remained unwavering, dignified as a leader should be, ensuring that no hint of the self-pity that threatened to overwhelm me would show.
They chose to follow me, and I accepted the responsibility of their decision.
I must convince them that following me will not result in failure.
“I will attend to the regrettable matters of those who lived proudly. Reward distribution will be carried out according to the rules, and I shall personally deliver them to their next of kin. From my own pocket, I will provide慰问 money and do everything within my power.”
No matter who dies, know that I will handle things the same way, so rest assured. Though I didn’t say it outright, I know they understood. It’s something they’ve seen me consistently do. A few of those closely acquainted with the two who perished are visibly relieved, patting their chests.
“But words can always be embellished no matter how much you say. If anyone believes I cannot be trusted based on this mission and what they see of me now, please step forward. I will not pursue those who choose to leave and will arrange for you to go without further danger.”
Silence followed my words. Lips remained shut, and only the warm night air, growing still after the funeral, continued to flow.
It’s not an easy thing to say. Some might approach me in secret later. In that case, I’ll let them go without harboring any grudges and hand them off with some money to ensure their safety. We have plenty of horses to spare — a horse or two wouldn’t hurt.
“Now, let us conclude this matter with one final statement… Revenge will surely be exacted! May righteousness reside in our swords!!”
“““Acknowledge!!”””
A satisfyingly synchronized response followed. Then, each person shouted their own thoughts, raising a fist and stamping their feet.
“Kill them! How dare they take our precious friends!”
“They’ll make a fine feast for wild dogs once we’ve strung them up with their own intestines!”
“Let’s put them right next to the highwaymen we’ve already hung!”
I’m reassured by the intensity of their anger. It’s a good sign they are still bristling at the unjust situation we were thrust into. It doesn’t matter how optimistically we look at it — things won’t be over if we simply hunker down here, call it a day, and move on.
The GM, composed of countless human whims that run this world, has an abysmal taste that makes things particularly cruel.
Once the members had their fill of shouting and settled down, I transitioned to the next topic.
“Well… I owe the group an apology. As you all saw last night…”
I spent half the day pondering after the cleanup effort and ultimately decided the best course of action was to “tell everything outright.” Given that the reason I had kept my identity as a sorcerer secret no longer seemed tenable—I’ve settled on a slightly softened version but deemed it best to be open about it all.
It would be difficult to keep it hidden now, so it’s preferable to deal with the members openly and rebuild trust.
“Master…”
A hand went up, and Etan stepped forward.
He checked with his compatriots, who nodded in agreement, confirming their intent. He seemed to represent the group in wanting to say something.
“I hear ya, Master… if I may… we discussed it during lunch.”
Go ahead. I’ll listen if they want to complain. I have no intention of refuting or excusing myself; if venting helps them feel better, it’s my duty as a leader to…
“We don’t care if the master is possessed by a cursed sword! We’re still following you as usual!”
“…”
“We saw it yesterday… how a horrifying cursed sword possessed you. Of course you’d hide something like that from someone unfamiliar. People would only jump to awful conclusions if they didn’t know the situation.”
“Wait, hold on…”
“It’s terrifying, with fire and floating and shaking sounds. A sword like that you’d want to show only in desperate times. That you drew it for our sake, we’re truly grateful.”
“But what are you saying… Mmph!?”
I tried to correct Etan’s misunderstanding only to have my mouth covered. The shock and confusion must’ve temporarily disabled my brain, but what in the world does Siegfried and Lady Kaya think they’re doing covering my mouth?
“We’ll settle on this! We’ll tie up one annoying problem!”
“And we can keep the magic a secret! If there are two sorcerers in one group, it only invites more nasty jobs!”
Yet… Isn’t that dishonest? But, I had to admit it was convenient. Though the source of my magic isn’t the cursed sword, the fact remains that I hid my possession by such a perilous sword, so nothing substantial changes.
This delay due to my hesitation only left me frustrated as I remained unable to speak while everyone seemed fine with things proceeding this way.
“Man, that was intense when the master drew that cursed sword… of course, it had to be hidden.”
“I’ll never forget the sound it made when it was swung. Magic swords show up in a lot of stories, but that one was likely a prime cursed blade.”
“If we held it, it would surely take over us… I’ve heard stories, a cursed black sword that makes the wielder go mad, slashing indiscriminately.”
“Ah, what was it, Ruinbringer, right? The legendary cursed sword from Northern tragedies?”
The members started talking, making their own assumptions. Ruinbringer is indeed a cursed sword from the Northern tragic hero saga that grants unparalleled swordsmanship to its chosen wielder but ultimately leads them to destroy themselves and bring ruin.
At that moment, the space creaked; an awful grinding sound struck the mind like nails on a chalkboard.
The Sword of Desire was screeching.
The overwhelming sense of grievance and dissatisfaction resonated loudly and unfiltered. If translated, it was likely protesting the ridiculous connection to some wild nonsense mentioned earlier.
Then came its counterpoint — a quieter note, almost plaintive, saying something akin to ‘I’m really not that scary’ or ‘This misunderstanding is too cruel.’
For those witnessing it for the first time, it was likely incomprehensible, merely a psychic attack without context.
“Hey! Stop it right now!!”
I summoned it in a panic, the Sword of Desire materializing in my hand. It shot me a brief protestive thought but quieted down after I tapped the blade. Its residual discontent was faint enough to be tolerable.
“Still… that was bad…”
“Man, Master, you’ve got skills with a blade. That wasn’t magical influence, was it?”
“Is this like some kind of fated encounter with a cursed sword that leads to trouble? Master, is this a common theme for you?”
“Shh! Quiet! Ignorance is bliss sometimes!”
Again, I’m hearing nonsense. What should be done about this? I glanced at Siegfried, who solemnly nodded without uttering a word.
Should it be left at that? My eyes asked. And both Siegfried and Lady Kaya confirmed with nods.
That was that…
After a somewhat awkward conclusion, I retreated to a private room alone.
I borrowed an unused home where the villagers were still evacuated to think.
In this room, I prepared by spreading a cloth on the desk.
Now, I understood that I was dealing with a particularly cruel GM. This is of course metaphorical, but it’s evident that fate has taken a particularly unfortunate turn.
This type of GM loves to throw players into hellish difficulty tiers, taking pleasure in their panicked, futile struggles. Sometimes, without warning, they lead the player straight into tragedy.
I experienced something similar at my old base in a past life — the mistake was regrettable due to my youthful misconceptions.
Some can laugh and overcome tragedy and injustice, while others struggle. When young players are given too little information, they tend to stick to safe options. This was a good early lesson.
The hints the GM gives are, very rarely, helpful. If one does not know beforehand how uncomfortable defeat feels, it’s immensely hard to use it as a spicy seasoning for later victories.
But if the GM is in a mood, we should rise to their challenge. After all, truly crushing such a devious GM with meticulously crafted strategies is what being a data miner is all about.
I had unleashed my secret weapon: the Sword of Desire, revealing magic use and even deploying a nearly foolproof, though incredibly inefficient, technique that could destroy almost any physical enemy. Yet, the fact that we couldn’t achieve a decisive victory indicated fundamental miscalculations.
My personal output still isn’t enough to overcome every injustice.
If only I were truly powerful, reaching the summit I long for but haven’t yet, I could overturn the GM’s sneering scenarios of inevitable tragedy. But at my current state, I can barely reach the limits of what I can manage.
If what I used before was a secret weapon, then it’s time to use the ultimate weapon.
The ultimate weapon, in this sense, is something brought out as a last resort after scraping the bottom of the barrel.
There’s no need to do everything alone. We have the freedom to use our connections.
I rolled up my sleeve and used a dagger to cut my forearm, hesitating to cut my palm or fingertips due to their sensitivity and the painful difficulty in handling objects while healing.
I dipped my fingertips in the trickling blood and traced a magical diagram on the spread cloth while sprinkling catalysts: a single short stamen of a sundial plant that had been exposed only to full moons over three months, water kept completely untouched by any light, a fragment from a God’s age ruin, and parts of a well-used measuring tape.
As these catalysts reacted with the magical symbols, they absorbed the pre-encoded magic and emitted light.
A silent, barely perceptible wavelength of light swirled, flickering weakly in the center of the magical circle, so fragile that it seemed to dissipate in the next moment.
Still, it worked. All that’s left is to hope it’s still connected.
I picked up a weathered war game piece, the only one of its kind, and activated the inscribed symbols. It carried a magical function to locate a specific place.
“Excuse me for disturbing at such a late hour. Are you receiving my voice?”
The invoked magic is “Voice Sending.” Using it, which I learned in my apprenticeship days and used often, was excruciating given my depleted magical energy. Even my gentle inquiry was followed by a small cough.
“Ho, it’s been a while since I’ve heard that voice… I might as well congratulate you, hmm?”
Welcome back to the faint connection between the real and the imaginary. The mental waves of my former employer, shaking my brain after years, were as outwardly charming as ever…
