Chapter 314 - Inheritance (3)

Drop Aitomz, rank-6 explorer.

He was an ordinary explorer, the sort you could find anywhere. He belonged to no major clan, and he had joined his current team through the Explorer Guild's mediation.

Well, if anything set him apart, it was that he had taken over as team leader after his predecessor died recently...

But even that did not change how ordinary he was.

His team operated on the fourth floor. Its members were all about equally skilled, and their temperaments and ways of thinking were no different from anyone else's. Usually, they worked hard hunting monsters and collecting magic crystals, but like any other explorers, they would not hesitate to bloody their hands if a good opportunity arose.

Which was why Drop Aitomz and his teammates now had a decision to make.

“Oh, you're all such kind people!!”

Their encounter with this barbarian had been pure coincidence. They had been crossing the Thornreed Fields on their way to the Witch's Forest when they found him calling for help.

Apparently, he had slipped away from his team during a break to sneak a drink and gotten lost?

'What an ignorant bastard...'

At first, Drop had been dumbfounded, but the barbarian did not seem to be lying. After all, he was a barbarian! Anything this absurd was entirely possible with them. More importantly, their race rarely lied, and even when they did, it was painfully obvious.

'Then he really is lost...'

“Drop, what are we going to do?”

“We're not just letting him go, are we? That ring he's wearing looks like a subspace ring.”

“He said he left his weapon behind, too. If we're doing this, let's hurry. His companions might come looking for him.”

Greed gleamed in everyone's eyes.

Naturally so. Subspace items sold for nearly as much secondhand as they did new. They did not wear out, and unlike other equipment, they did not have to fit the wearer's build.

Even the cheapest went for several million Stones.

'His armor looks good, too...'

“What are you all talking about over there?! Didn't you say you'd help me find my companions?!”

“Jackson, go keep that barbarian distracted.”

“Easy enough. Hey, barbarian! Aren't you hungry? Have some jerky!”

“Oh! Jerky!! But... have you got any booze?!”

“Haha, right here. If you've got nothing to do, have a drink with me.”

After sending one teammate over to occupy the barbarian, Drop exchanged looks with the others. Each nodded silently in agreement as their eyes met his.

A unanimous decision, reached in an instant.

“Ugh, I've been running all day, and now I'm sleepy... You said you had something to discuss, right? Can I sleep for a bit while you do?”

“Haha, make yourself comfortable.”

Right on cue, the barbarian lay down on the ground, looking drowsy. Soon, they heard him snoring.

SNRRRK! SNORRR!

At the sight, Drop discarded even his last twinge of guilt.

This was the bastard's own fault. He was practically begging them to take everything he owned. Who could resist in a situation like this?

Exchanging hand signals, Drop and his companions crept toward the barbarian.

And then...

'Now.'

They thrust their weapons at him from all sides at once.

But what in the world was this?

CLANK!

His sword tip stopped short. The impact jolted through the hilt as though he had stabbed a wall. Even the sound was wrong. Instead of flesh and hide tearing, he heard something scraping against stone.

“... Wh-what?”

While they were all still reeling in confusion, the barbarian sprang to his feet without shedding a single drop of blood. He thrust out a fist and shouted,

“WE'VE GOT TROOOOUBLE!!!!”

As though he had been waiting for this.

* * *

“Hah... I can't believe that actually worked.”

After our first successful plunderer hunt, Felik Barker let out a disbelieving chuckle. He had followed along with his doubts at first, but faced with the results, he had no choice but to acknowledge them.

“Commander, there wasn't any stolen loot in their bags, but their equipment is pretty impressive for their level.”

“I imagine so. Judging by how they acted, this wasn't their first time.”

That was one of the injustices of this world. Those who stabbed fellow explorers in the back got ahead far faster than those who spent their days diligently hunting monsters and growing stronger.

Of course, one wrong move could send them so far ahead that they reached the end of their lives early.

“Well? What do you think of my method?”

I squared my shoulders proudly as I spoke, and Felik Barker readily nodded.

“Not bad. No, let me be honest. This is revolutionary.”

Apparently genuinely impressed, he went on singing its praises for quite some time.

“For starters, being able to plant someone as powerful as you among them as a beater is simply absurd. With you launching a surprise attack from within while we strike from outside, who could possibly respond properly?”

Indeed, in that last fight, they had all been facing me with their backs turned to the others. They had dropped like flies the instant our clan members ambushed them from the reeds.

Had the fight even lasted ten seconds?

“And the barbarian race really is incredible! Even sending a child in as a beater usually raises a little suspicion, but they didn't suspect a thing!”

... Could that really be considered a compliment?

The question occurred to me, but I brushed it aside. I wasn't a real barbarian anyway. I could probably just count that as high praise.

'Anyway, that should have shown them how good this method is...'

It was about time to move on to the next stage. After all, I had shared this method with them for one reason alone.

“Glad you like it! Then will you all be using my method from now on?”

Even if I had to spend some time with these bastards, I had no desire to plunder innocent, decent explorers. Just standing by and watching didn't sit right with me, either.

That was why I had steered them toward hunting plunderers.

“I'd like that myself, if we could...”

Felik Barker smacked his lips at my question.

“Unfortunately, this method has a fatal flaw.”

“What is it?”

“You're the only barbarian we have. It's a good method, but having everyone travel together for it would hardly be efficient—”

Oh, that?

“Don't worry. I've thought of that, too. Hey, you and you.”

Grinning, I pointed out two men I had already picked from the First and Second Teams, called them over, and made them strip.

“Um, why do we have to take our clothes off...?”

What do you mean, why? I just wanted to check their muscles.

'Okay, they've got quite a bit of flab, but they're big enough.'

I stepped closer, and the two shirtless men backed away, covering their torsos with their arms.

Hey, it's not like I said I was going to do anything bad.

“Um, if you could just tell us what you're planning...”

“I will make warriors out of you.”

With that, I took out what I had prepared.

Had they realized what I intended to do? Both men widened their eyes and shouted.

“That's...!”

“Don't tell me!!”

It was a brush and some dye.

* * *

The surrealist painter Salvador Dalí once said,

[“I am not strange. I am just not normal.”]

And the impressionist painter Vincent van Gogh said,

[“I have no certainty in my life. But the sight of the stars makes me dream.”]

Oh, and there was something Pablo Picasso said, too.

[“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.”]

Would the day ever come when I, too, left behind words as famous as theirs?

I couldn't know that yet, but for now, I said,

“... Hold still! Unless you want to fucking die!”

Damn it, how ticklish could they be? They kept squirming and making my lines crooked.

Stroke after stroke, I drove my concentration higher with every outside interruption.

Red, green, blue, black.

With those four utterly commonplace colors as my foundation, I devoted myself to my brushwork, engraving the maxims of my illustrious predecessors upon my heart.

As befitted the field of “art,” incomprehensible to ordinary minds, I worked not on drawing paper, but on human skin.

Stroke after stroke.

The ordinary minds surrounding me never tired of muttering.

“... Looks like scribbling.”

“Those lines are so crooked...”

Tsk, uncultured savages. They didn't know the first thing about modern art.

“Ahem!”

I cleared my throat pointedly, and the onlookers clamped their mouths shut.

Whew, much better. I should have done that sooner.

“...”

In the quiet, I resumed my work. It didn't take long. It had been fun at first, but the longer I worked, the more bored I got.

“There, done! You can get up now!”

After roughly finishing up, I clapped both men on the back, and they rose hesitantly.

Really, that did nothing for an artist's motivation.

“Why are you covering your tattoos with your arms?”

I moved aside the arms they had wrapped around their torsos as though ashamed, revealing my work in all its glory.

I was quite satisfied. The quality was crude compared to my own tattoos, but...

“... It's less obvious than I expected.”

Even the clan leader, who had been looking at me as if I were insane, seemed surprised by the finished result. In the darkness of the Labyrinth, work of this quality was less conspicuous than one might expect.

Still, as its creator, I couldn't help noticing its shortcomings.

“Why are you looking at the ground? Don't tell me you're embarrassed?”

Just look at those bashful expressions and gestures. At this rate, nobody would ever mistake them for barbarians.

Therefore...

“Come with me. I'll make real warriors out of you.”

With the clan leader's permission, I took the two aside and began correcting them. It wasn't particularly difficult.

Had it taken about thirty minutes?

“V-VEHELLLAAAAAA!”

“Louder!”

“VEHELLLAAAAAA!!”

“Good. Now, what do you say when you're running?”

“I'M LOOOOST!! HELP ME!!!”

“Snore!”

“SNRRRK! SNRRR-KHORK!!”

“Sit!”

They plopped down on the ground.

Yes, now they were looking more like barbarians.

* * *

On a night when a crescent moon hung high in the sky, Erwin Fornacci de Tersia knocked on the door of a house.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

About a minute passed before it opened. The elven man who pulled the door open with a creak stiffened at the sight of Erwin's face.

Her grim resolve told him why she had come to see him at this hour.

“... You've made your decision.”

“Yes.”

At her brief answer, devoid of even the slightest hesitation, he steadied his breathing bitterly.

It wasn't that he couldn't understand how she felt.

But...

“The process of gaining our people's pureblood power will be far more terrible than you imagine. And wanting it does not guarantee you can attain it.”

“I know.”

“Please, won't you reconsider one last time?”

He spoke because he could not bear to watch, knowing all too clearly the path that lay ahead of her. Yet Erwin's resolve did not waver.

“I'm sorry, but I've already made my decision.”

“...”

“Please help me become a pureblood.”

Erwin raised her bowed head. Her amber eyes, once always bright, held nothing but a hunger for power.

His breath caught. He had seen far too many people with eyes like hers meet their ends.

And yet...

“All right. I will help you.”

He dared not refuse her request. No matter that he was hailed as a hero of their people, no matter how much authority he gained, he remained a guilty man before these sisters.

“Thank you. I'll be going, then.”

Erwin turned and slowly walked away. Watching her leave, he called her to a halt before he knew what he was doing.

“Wait.”

“... Was there something you wanted to say?”

“If... Yes, if...”

What would you do if there were a way to bring him back to life?

He had meant to ask her that, but he could not bring himself to continue.

“No, I'm talking nonsense. It's late. Go on home. I will inform the council of elders.”

“Yes.”

After pausing briefly and tilting her head, Erwin turned away once more and left. This time, he did not stop her.

No, he could not.

For some reason, He—the one who knew about the Stone of Resurrection—had missed this gathering. And besides...

“...”

The person they had to revive with that stone had already been decided.