Chapter 99 - Damn Reincarnation

Guardian

Eugene drew Narissa snug against his back and pulled up his cloak’s hood. He summoned wind spirits to surround them, adding a mana shield and several defensive spells to their protection.

Kristina responded by casting divine magic as well. Divine magic offered better protection than defensive spells of the same level. After checking the reach of her barrier, Eugene spoke.

“Stay close behind me.”

“Yes.”

Kristina answered without objection. She did not wonder whether this was too reckless. In matters like these, she did not defy Eugene.

As he advanced a few steps, Eugene slipped a hand inside his cloak. He did not draw a weapon first. Then, a little farther on...

Something registered in his finely honed senses. The instant he caught it, it slipped away. No—it was coming closer. He had been on guard all along, and his response was immediate. A sword flashed out of his cloak and sliced through the air.

CLANG!

The sword shattered on impact. Ignoring the fragments scattering around him, Eugene pulled out his right hand, which he had kept inside his cloak. Asphel, the Devouring Sword, consumed the mana violently surging from the collision. The space between Eugene and his attacker was emptied of power.

“Aah!”

Eugene was no longer carrying Narissa. A wind spirit gathered her into its embrace and retreated. Kristina immediately raised her wand and enveloped Narissa in light.

Free to move, Eugene charged forward without hesitation. He caught sight of the guardian, shrouded in a worn robe. Asphel’s outstretched blade writhed, then shot forward with a sinuous motion.

CLANG!

Metal struck metal. Asphel did not break. Nor did the guardian retreat. Rather than attacking again, the guardian raised his sword upright to meet Eugene’s assault.

Asphel scraped the ground. The upward slash unleashed an explosion of mana. The guardian’s sword moved to counter it.

SWISH!

Before the explosion could engulf him, his sweeping blade cleaved space in two.

[“... That sword.”]

The voice echoed inside Eugene’s head. He stopped swinging and took a step back.

[“Asphel, the Devouring Sword.”]

Eugene did not answer. The guardian stared at him and continued.

[“Since when have the Lionhearts protected wandering elves?”]

“Show your face before you talk.”

His heart was pounding. Composing his expression, Eugene returned Asphel to his cloak. As he did, his lips moved.

“... Hah.”

Watching Eugene’s lips, the guardian let out a quiet exclamation. He studied Eugene for a moment, then chuckled.

[“I thought you resembled him. But it wasn’t merely a resemblance, was it?”]

Eugene only shrugged. At his silence, the guardian lowered his sword and pushed back the hood concealing his face.

[“Hamel Dynas.”]

Eugene had swung his sword hoping to be recognized. He had been too embarrassed to shout its name, but that upward strike had been the fifth form of the Hamel Style: Dragon Burst.

[“Have you failed to find rest, wandering as a ghost?”]

“Looks like the same could be said of you.”

Eugene answered with a faint laugh.

His lips had moved without making a sound. That was how he had spoken the man’s name. An old elf who recognized Asphel and possessed such skill. A ruthless elf who hated Iris and the dark elves, and who could act on that hatred.

There were not many such elves in Eugene’s memory.

Dull green hair. A face so beautiful it was difficult to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. A scar running across one cheek.

Siknard.

“What do you want?”

Siknard no longer spoke inside his head. Sheathing his sword, he stared at Eugene and Narissa. Then his gaze shifted to Kristina.

He studied her for a while. Just as Eugene knew Siknard, Siknard knew Eugene—knew Hamel. That meant he also knew Anise from three hundred years ago.

“... No. Perhaps it’s foolish to ask.”

Murmuring this, Siknard turned away. He did not tell them to follow, but Eugene followed him without bothering to ask.

“... Is he someone you know?”

Kristina approached his side and asked. Narissa was still frightened, unable to understand what was happening.

“If I knew him, would he have attacked us out of nowhere?”

“But he stopped attacking.”

“He must have gotten the wrong idea from our looks.”

Eugene glanced at Kristina’s face as he made the mocking remark.

“... So the resemblance does have its uses.”

Kristina nodded with a faint smile. That was her only reply. Asking nothing more, she compassionately wrapped an arm around the trembling Narissa’s shoulders.

The scenery warped with every step. This was barrier magic of such sophistication that it would be difficult to detect or interfere with from outside. It was hardly surprising.

A village where wandering elves gathered would be a hunting ground that made hunters and savage tribes drool. If its location remained unknown despite that, the guardian could not be its only protection. There had to be magic protecting the village as well.

‘Good thing I brought Narissa.’

Without her to lead the way, he would have wandered this vast forest for a long time.

“... A barrier on this scale.”

Kristina looked around in admiration. Neither before entering nor now that she was inside had she felt anything amiss.

The same was true of Eugene. His attainment as a mage exceeded the Fifth Circle. By ordinary standards, mages of the Fifth Circle and above were considered intermediate. But his acute sensitivity to energy and knowledge of Witch Craft were by no means those of an intermediate mage.

‘... This isn’t an ordinary barrier.’

Eugene tried to understand it from a magical perspective, but it was not easy. Even walking inside it, he could detect nothing out of place.

The Siknard he remembered had not been an exceptionally gifted mage.

“... How many elves live in this village?”

“About a hundred.”

Narissa exclaimed in wonder at the answer. Elves were watching them from the houses visible in the distance. Their gazes held a mixture of hostility and fear.

“We seem to have things to discuss. What will you do?”

“Kristina. Find something to pass the time.”

Eugene spoke without turning to her. Though the instruction was abrupt, Kristina was not flustered. She nodded slightly and looked around at the elves with eyes full of interest.

“Don’t do anything rude.”

“Please don’t worry.”

Kristina answered with a bright smile. Leaving her and Narissa behind, Eugene followed Siknard.

“Aren’t you being a little too trusting?”

“Why? Planning to take those two hostage while I’m gone?”

“Would I have any reason to?”

“No. That’s why I’m not worried.”

“The elves here dislike outsiders.”

“You don’t need to tell me that. Their hostility is incredibly... sharp. But few of them seem capable of acting on it.”

Eugene surveyed the elves as he spoke. He had not expected a hundred of them, but Siknard seemed to be the only one who could threaten Kristina.

Siknard chuckled and shrugged.

“That woman.”

“She looks like her, doesn’t she?”

“It’s more than a resemblance.”

“I was surprised when I first saw her, too. But it’s only a resemblance.”

“She could be deceiving you.”

“Siknard. If you could recognize me, Anise could have recognized me, too. I haven’t said it aloud, but I haven’t been hiding it. She would have recognized me much sooner than you did.”

He had drawn his sword many times while traveling with Kristina. No, even before that. When he crossed swords with Genos at Black Lion Castle, Eugene had not hesitated to use the Hamel Style. That had not merely been to gain Genos’s acknowledgment. He had also wanted to observe Kristina’s reaction.

There had been something odd about her gaze. It had bothered him somewhat, but Kristina had said nothing about Hamel. If she really were Anise, there would be no reason for her to conceal herself.

“... That’s true.”

Siknard murmured with a smile. He opened the door of an old hut and gestured for Eugene to enter.

“I never expected to meet you again.”

“Neither did I.”

Returning his smile, Eugene stepped through the doorway. The instant he did...

Siknard vanished from sight. Eugene chuckled and arched backward. A swinging elbow brushed past through the fabric of his clothes. Even off balance, Eugene reached out and seized Siknard’s collar. He pressed close, closing the gap between them.

“You’ve grown up. You even know how to pick a fight first now.”

“You’re simply too young now.”

Siknard grinned, baring his teeth. They held that standoff for a moment before Siknard released his grip first. He stepped back and looked Eugene up and down.

“Your skills haven’t rusted. But you’re weaker than in your previous life.”

“Can’t help that. This body isn’t fully developed yet.”

“A human body... How old are you?”

“Almost twenty.”

“... Hahaha!”

Siknard burst into cheerful laughter at Eugene’s answer.

“I see. Young even by human standards. Yet you’ve reached this level of refinement... It seems you haven’t been taking your time enjoying your reincarnation.”

“If the world hadn’t ended up like this, I would have. Done the things I never got to do in my previous life, too.”

Eugene pulled up a chair and dropped into it.

“... That body. Is it the body of Vermouth’s descendant?”

“Don’t ask too many questions. I don’t know enough about this reincarnation to give you satisfactory answers.”

“Is that so?”

“I died in the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle. To me... death and reincarnation were directly connected. I didn’t stop by heaven or hell... I just... died, and when I opened my eyes... I was a newborn.”

Siknard sat opposite Eugene and listened.

“I don’t know the details. I was born as Vermouth’s descendant, and somehow I ended up adopted into the main family. I lived like that, and... well... came here. You can probably guess why.”

“... Senya.”

“What have you been doing all this time? Three hundred years isn’t short even for an elf.”

“They weren’t happy years, either.”

Siknard’s lips twisted into a smile.

Three hundred years ago, Siknard had been one of the elven rangers fighting the Demon Kings. Helmuth had been the front line. Siknard and the other elven rangers had roamed its forests and mountains, battling the demon armies.

Hamel had met Siknard in his previous life. While fighting the demon armies in Helmuth, he had participated in a joint operation with the elven rangers. Back then, Siknard had been a hot-blooded young elf, and he had known Senya as a child.

“Brother.”

That was what Senya used to call Siknard.

Despite being an elf, Siknard had not acted like one. In particular, he refused to accept Senya risking herself on the battlefield for the elves. He repeatedly snapped at her to return to the forest, and when she refused to listen, he became unreasonable.

He tried to subdue her by force.

So Hamel stepped in. Siknard was strong, but not as strong as Hamel.

[“Protect Senya, no matter what.”]

Hamel had beaten him until he collapsed on the ground. Despite being covered in blood and dirt, Siknard managed to gasp out something rather impressive.

[“Protect her? That girl’s probably stronger than I am.”]

That was how they had parted. Hamel, Senya, Vermouth... the Hero’s party had pressed onward. Siknard and the elven rangers stayed behind with the rest of the resistance forces to keep the demon armies from crossing the front line.

A few months later, the dark-elf corps led by Iris slaughtered the elven rangers in great numbers.

“After you died, Vermouth’s promise ended the war.”

Siknard continued.

“The other elves and I... returned to our domain. We had no choice. We couldn’t shatter the peace we had barely obtained for the sake of revenge alone.”

The promise made three hundred years ago had been an act of mercy from the Demon King. Neither the Demon King of Incarceration nor the Demon King of Destruction had been in a position that required making any promise.

Tempest had not spoken of it. The final battle in the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle had not been a fight between equals. It had only been possible to fight at all because Vermouth was there. Had the Demon King of Destruction joined in, even Vermouth would not have survived.

Yet the Demon King of Incarceration had granted them that promise. Vermouth, Anise, Senya, and Moron had all lived. Hamel alone had died there. No one else had died.

And so the war ended. Vermouth returned to the Kiel Empire and became a duke. Moron founded the Kingdom of Ruhar in the north. Anise became a saint in Yuras.

And Senya...

“... That girl... returned to the elven domain and attended the memorial rite.”

“... Memorial rite?”

“The souls of elves who die ‘outside’ eventually return to the World Tree.”

That was the elves’ faith. A fairy tree thousands of years old towered at the heart of the elven domain. The elves called that enormous fairy tree the World Tree and believed it housed the souls of their dead, including their ancestors.

“After the war ended, a memorial rite was held in the elven domain for the fallen. Senya wasn’t born an elf, but she is part of our family. And... she achieved ‘revenge’ more fully than any elf.”

[“Aaaah!”]

When word arrived that Iris and her dark-elf corps had slaughtered the elves, Senya tore at her hair and sobbed. She screamed until her voice went hoarse and wept tears of blood. Her mana ran wild with rage and hatred, shaking heaven and earth. Moron approached to calm her, only to be struck by a spell that sent him flying dozens of kilometers away. Anise struggled, sweating profusely as she maintained a barrier to keep the rampaging magic from swallowing their party.

Hamel risked his life to calm Senya. Had Vermouth not suppressed her magical power, it would not merely have been a risk—he would truly have been torn to pieces and killed.

That was why Eugene hated dark elves. The current generation might consider it unfair, but every time he saw that black skin, those red eyes, and those long ears, he remembered Senya bawling. He remembered her clinging to him, soaking his clothes with tears, snot, and blood... crying with her face all ugly and contorted.

[“I-I-I’ll kill them.”]

[“Yeah.”]

[“I really will... all of them... I’ll kill them all. The dark elves, I-I-Iris, and the Demon King of Fury, too.”]

[“Don’t kill them alone. We’ll kill them together.”]

They had failed. They killed the Demon King of Fury, but not Iris. No one there had imagined that the Demon King of Fury would sacrifice his own life to let Iris and Oboron escape. Senya had been no exception.

[“I’m sorry.”]

[“Don’t apologize.”]

[“I shouldn’t have let her get aw—”]

[“I said don’t apologize, you son of a bitch. It’s not like you wanted to let her get away.”]

He had even bowed his head to apologize, only for Senya to snap at him and kick his shin. They had not killed Iris. But they had killed the Demon King of Fury. Senya was satisfied with that.

“... What happened after that?”

“Senya went to Aroth, and the elves remained in their domain.”

“But you’re here now.”

“Three hundred years is a long time.”

Siknard’s lips twisted into a smile.

“I... wanted to get my revenge, whatever it took. So I left the forest and wandered the world. To kill that damned dark elf.”

“... Seems you didn’t ask Senya for help.”

“That girl is a far greater figure than someone like me could ever be. I’m only a single elf, but if Senya acted... the peace won through that promise might have been broken.”

Iris was not dead. That dark elf was still alive, leading Fury’s Independence Army. Proclaiming herself the rightful successor to the Demon King of Fury, she was trying to become a Demon King.

Siknard’s revenge had failed.

“... I heard Senya returned to the elven domain and went into seclusion.”

“Only a rumor.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Hamel. Was there ever enough trust between us to warrant unconditional faith?”

Fair enough. Eugene chuckled and nodded.

“I recognized you as Hamel, but I don’t trust you. You... died in the Demon King of Incarceration’s castle three hundred years ago. Even if you miraculously reincarnated, I cannot believe that the person before me now is untainted.”

“I understand. My thoughts were a mess at first, too. Am I really Hamel? Why was I reincarnated? Now that I’ve reincarnated, what the hell am I supposed to do? If someone intended my reincarnation, doesn’t everything I do in this life amount to dancing like someone’s puppet?”

Eugene chuckled as he slipped a hand into his cloak.

“But you know, Siknard, those worries turned out to be fucking useless to me. I am Hamel. As long as I’m certain of that myself, that’s enough. What did Hamel want in his previous life? To kill every Demon King. And what do I want now? The same thing. I’m going to kill every Demon King. I’ll kill the Demon King of Incarceration and the Demon King of Destruction. And I’ll kill every last demon swaggering around Helmuth.”

“...”

“Here’s the problem. I know exactly what I want, but it’s too difficult. Difficult for me as I am now.”

“Not difficult. Impossible.”

“No. It’s not impossible.”

Eugene rose from his chair. Keeping his hand inside his cloak, he stared hard at Siknard.

“It’s so difficult it borders on impossible, but it isn’t impossible. I can do it. I will do it.”

“...”

“Siknard. I need to see Senya.”

“... She’s dead.”

Siknard answered quietly, and Eugene burst out laughing.

“Cut the bullshit.”

Eugene took a leaf of the World Tree from his cloak. Siknard’s eyes quivered at the sight.

“... That is...?”

“If Senya’s dead, I won’t believe it until I see her corpse with my own eyes. If you want to convince me, bring me her body. Or take me to wherever it is.”

Eugene’s other hand remained inside his cloak. Siknard sensed no killing intent from him, but he knew Eugene could swing a sword even without it.

“Unlike in my previous life, I’ve learned quite a bit of magic, too.”

The barrier around this village was something most mages could not even hope to imitate.

“If you want to convince me, you’ll have to explain this village’s barrier first. This barrier. Senya made it, didn’t she?”

Siknard rose with a long sigh.

“Hamel. What will you do if I refuse to trust you to the end and won’t speak?”

“The same thing I did three hundred years ago. I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, until you have no choice but to talk, whether you want to or not.”

“That should be impossible for you as you are now.”

“It’s not impossible.”

The flames of the White Flame Formula flared around Eugene’s body.

“Compared to the things I want to do, it doesn’t even qualify as difficult.”

Could he beat Siknard in a fight? If he poured everything he had into it. The Moonlight Sword, the Devouring Sword, the Dragon Spear, the Lightning Bow, the Storm Sword, the Holy Sword. He had more than enough weapons, and if he used Ignition from the outset, he would win without fail.

“Is that so?”

Siknard chuckled, looking at the leaf of the World Tree.

“... Follow me.”