Porit Ropos's body was buried in a sunny spot on the outskirts of the encampment. There was no room for the luxury of holding a funeral for a hired mercenary, but no one stopped Ian as he brutally tore into the earth.
All the recruited mercenaries knew of the friendship between Ian and Porit, but the greater reason was likely Ian's manner as he glared murderously at anyone who approached.
Only when the sun stood high overhead was Porit's body laid in the pit. Ian sat before it blankly staring at the grave until sunset.
There was no gravestone.
They could not even give him a proper funeral, so how could they have the means to prepare something like that?
All Ian had done was plant the black sword Porit had used so often in the grave and drape one of his robes—his personal belonging—over it.
"Porit Ropos was a wise and clever man. He was also my closest friend."
"You seem rather calm for that."
"When you live this kind of life, a lot of friends die."
Losing a friend or lover could not have been an extraordinary matter for mercenaries.
Even more so when that person was another mercenary.
They were hired somewhere and died namelessly somewhere else.
That was how mercenaries lived, the shape their lives took.
But Porit's death was... different to Ian.
"He was the one who let me live as a human being."
"..."
"He taught me how precious life was, made me realize what a disgusting creature I was, and yet always comforted me at my side. It's ridiculous, but it did help."
"How was I any different? Porit Ropos was that kind of man."
After briefly exchanging pleasantries with the captain of the Shark Tooth Mercenary Company, Ian let out a hollow laugh and buried his face in his knees.
His shoulders trembled faintly, and the body visible through his clothes looked fragile enough to collapse at any moment.
"Fuck, I don't know. What am I supposed to do now?"
"Revenge, surely."
"...Can I even do it?"
Ian muttered that because he could not be certain.
Ian had cut down countless enemies before, but that knight... was truly strong.
He resigned himself to the fact that his current self could do nothing to push that knight back.
Instinctively, Ian sensed that there was a truly significant difference between them.
"Then do you intend to give up? That suits me. I could kill that knight myself."
"Urgh..."
"You don't like that after all?"
Silently watching Ian groan while clutching his head, the captain offered his advice.
It was a philosophical remark, very different from the captain Ian had imagined.
"If you stop when faced with fear, you will be the one defeated. If you wish to win, your ego must be strong enough not to shrink before terror and fear."
"That's awfully philosophical. Strange."
"I hear that a lot."
Ian did not understand more than half of what the man had said, but somehow its meaning seemed to reach him clearly enough.
It means I should get my head straight, right?
Having reached that conclusion, Ian rose and picked up his sword.
"...Why the sword?"
"Fight me. Right now."
"...Hah. You seem not to know it, but I am a busy man..."
"You received something called Falna, just like that knight, didn't you? And... you're as strong as he is."
"A decent insight, but did you think that alone would impress me?"
"I bear Porit's last words. If you truly considered him a friend, then make sure I don't die to that knight!"
Without even waiting for an answer, Ian charged the captain and swung his sword.
A straightforward, swift horizontal slash surged toward the captain's neck.
But the captain quickly raised his greatsword and blocked it.
"...All right. Let me give you one piece of advice."
"Urgh...!"
"It's fine to charge in with killing intent, but focus on your opponent first. This is a duel, not a melee."
The captain's greatsword lightly knocked Ian away, then advanced while scraping across the ground. Then, with a ting, the blade sprang up from a certain point and shot toward Ian's face with astonishing acceleration.
"Focus... I said."
Ian tilted his head to evade the sword and caught his breath.
He was on the same level as that knight.
Every attack was swift, yet possessed formidable destructive force.
In sheer strength, he was likely superior to the knight.
Ian steadied his breathing and fixed a hard stare on the captain.
Focus.
He ignored everything around him and devoted every shred of his attention solely to the opponent before his eyes.
Every nerve in his body rose taut, and he felt his body awaken.
The surroundings grew dark.
It was already night, dark enough—but darker than that.
In a darkness where he could not see an inch ahead, only Ian and the captain stood.
At least, that was how it felt to Ian.
"You've completed it."
Once the captain's brief words ended, the two warriors clashed again.
*
"Damn it!"
Ian shouted as he hurled his sword onto the ground.
Treating one's beloved weapon like discarded trash was disgraceful for a mercenary—no, for any armed warrior—but the captain before him did not find fault with Ian's behavior.
Perhaps he simply did not care.
"A whole day has already passed...? We're about to deploy!"
"...Hah. What a monster."
Wiping the sweat pouring from his brow, the captain muttered.
It was not something to boast about, and he was not the sort to mention it often, but the captain was a powerful man who had received Falna and Ranked Up once.
Simply receiving Falna granted strength far beyond that of ordinary people.
After a Rank Up, that gap became as vast as heaven and earth.
But the man before the captain was different.
No divine aura could be felt from him, yet he had sparred with the captain for an entire day without falling short—and had even pushed him back in turn.
What would have happened if he had come at him intending to kill?
His neck suddenly feeling cold, the captain rubbed it.
"Have you no intention of joining our mercenary company?"
"...If I succeed in my revenge, I'll consider it."
"At that rate, revenge is hardly impossible for you."
"Yeah, I suppose."
Still, I have no intention of it yet.
The captain smacked his lips in regret at Ian's cold answer.
Ian turned his eyes away, burdened by the look that said the captain wanted to bring him into his company by any means necessary.
Ian still had no intention of belonging anywhere.
Even when he tried to think, his boiling desire for revenge blocked any active thought.
It seemed he would not be able to think properly until he fulfilled his revenge.
Gripping his sword once more, Ian gazed over the field that would soon become a battlefield.
That place would be soaked in blood as always.
But Ian swore that he would absolutely scatter his enemy's blood across that field.
He made that vow with a resolve stronger than any he had ever known.
*
"This war is nearing its end! Don't let a single one of those filthy imperial bastards live!"
The commander's shout raised the soldiers' morale, and without anyone needing to say another word, they charged forward.
For the first time, Ian did not plunge into the center of the battlefield as he usually did. Instead, he surveyed it.
Not to discern strategy or assess the situation, but to find his enemy and cut off his head.
Searching for something had been a routine part of Ian's life as a mercenary, so fortunately for him, finding a single person even in the chaotic melee of war was easy.
"Found you."
Ian murmured softly, steadied his breath, and charged in again.
At the heart of the battlefield, surrounded by imperial soldiers, the knight was waiting for him. Ian rushed at that arrogant strongman saturated with killing intent.
"I've been waiting. I knew you would come back."
"Die!!"
Ian's sword came crashing down like thunder as he screamed, almost like a shriek.
Its trajectory was obvious, and the knight raised his sword to block it. Yet he was driven back by Ian's strength, which had risen by leaps and bounds since before.
"...!"
What an extraordinary man.
Locking strength with the Blood Mist Mercenary, the knight realized it anew.
The man before him possessed no Falna, yet could easily slaughter soldiers who had not Ranked Up.
"What kind of monster are you?!"
"Ngh... Die, dieee...!"
When the contest of strength did not end, Ian began bringing down his sword like a madman.
The attacks were so obvious that they were easier to read than those of a mindless monster, but the tremendous power accompanying them turned every blow into an incarnation of destruction.
He could evade them if he chose to... but if he failed, he would lose.
Still, this would never end if he merely defended.
Having decided that, the knight raised his sword diagonally to deflect the attacks as much as possible, then swiftly moved his feet to get behind Ian.
Or so he had thought.
Ian's body sprang upward.
The knight's sword merely cut through empty air at the sudden, untelegraphed movement. Ian, soaring upward, kicked the back of the knight's head and sent him flying.
"Tch...!"
It had been a killing blow, but it had not landed properly.
But there was no time for disappointment.
The instant he hit the ground, Ian spun, charged, and resumed his offensive.
The knight was still rattled by Ian's bizarre movements and had not regained his bearings.
If Ian thrust his sword to attack, the knight would recover and erect a perfect defense again. An attack with the sword would then only lead to a meaningless exchange.
So Ian launched himself through the air and kicked the knight again.
Ian's foot flew sharper than any master-crafted spear and struck the knight's breastplate. Armor harder than most steel was punched through with a great hole in the chest, and the knight was flung backward once more.
"Kgh..."
"How's that? Completely different from before, isn't it?"
You're dead now.
Having pronounced that sentence, Ian held his sword tight against his body as though embracing it, gathered strength, and charged.
His attacks were one-sided. It was difficult to exchange blows with him.
Blocking Ian's attacks, the knight lamented.
When he had subdued this mercenary, even if the Shark had stood in his way, even if his wounds had required urgent treatment, he should have ended this mercenary's life.
The knight recalled the imperial decree he had received from his lord.
Recent harvests have repeatedly failed. Seize the great plains of Israpan.
"I should have killed you then...! Because of that worthless mercenary...!"
"...What?"
Anxiety that he might fail the Emperor's command, along with his loyalty to his homeland, made the knight speak unlike his usual self. It was a grave mistake.
Something beyond killing intent enveloped Ian's body.
It could not be seen, but the knight facing Ian could feel it.
The atmosphere had changed.
"That mercenary...? Are you talking about Porit...?!"
"Tch, revenge? For nothing but such a petty reason, you would stand against me, who devotes myself to my country—"
"I asked if you were talking about Porit, you son of a bitch!"
In that instant, a sword thrust came without even a sound.
Even with the physical abilities of Level 2, the knight could no longer fully track the swift sword that unfolded before him.
Legs, arms, face.
Flesh tore away from areas his armor could not properly defend.
He believed he was blocking all the fatal attacks, but every single strike he allowed through was vicious enough to be impossible to ignore.
Countless sword paths swept over him like a storm.
Just when he thought he had barely escaped them, another sword thrust came.
He was no mere beast.
"Damn it...!"
The knight spat a curse, stepped back, and prepared to thrust his sword.
Less than a second remained before another barrage of sword strikes descended, but one second was enough for a Level 2 knight to prepare an attack.
"Haaah!"
"Aaaah!"
Their battle cries crossed, and the knight's sword shattered Ian's sword before piercing his abdomen.
I won, the knight was certain.
Thus, he relaxed his body for an instant, and that was his fatal mistake.
"Ugh, aaaaah!"
With all his strength, Ian shouted and drew the comrade that had been with him since boyhood.
It was as if sunlight from the cloudless sky had gathered upon the blade.
"Oh no..."
By the time the knight noticed, it was too late to react.
The boy's comrade plunged into the hole at the center of the knight's breastplate, and the knight staggered backward.
"Kghhh..."
The boy pulled his comrade from the knight's chest, then stumbled for a moment before collapsing.
His stomach hurt too much, and it was too hot.
He could no longer maintain consciousness.
"My name is Rion. What is yours, boy?"
"Die, bastard..."
Ian's vision went black.
*
"Whoa, he's awake."
"He actually survived that."
When Ian opened his eyes, he was inside a tent he had never seen before.
...More precisely, it was a tent whose interior he had never seen before.
The people snickering as they looked at him wore blue headscarves.
Judging by the white patterns embroidered on them, they were probably the Shark Tooth Mercenary Company.
He tried to rise but stopped when pain shot through his abdomen.
Looking down, he saw tight white bandages wrapped from his abdomen to his chest.
Come to think of it, I was stabbed.
As the events before he fainted came back to him, Ian clutched his stomach tightly and stood.
It hurt, but he endured it.
Instinctively, Ian could tell that outside the tent was the reason he had to endure this pain.
"Still, we both received Falna from the same god."
"Do you think begging like that will work now?"
Just as expected, Ian's enemy was still alive outside.
His brightly burning blond hair was dirtied and dulled by dust, and his golden eyes lost their vitality the instant they saw Ian.
Ian noticed that his opponent no longer clung to life.
Though even if he had not given up on living, Ian's choice would not have changed.
"Hey..."
The captain of the Shark Tooth Mercenary Company realized Ian's intent and tried to stop him, but it was futile.
Ian did not stop walking.
Before anyone knew it, a crude sword was in his hand.
"I heard your name. Ian, was it?"
"..."
"That was quite enjoyable."
Those were the knight Rion's final words.
There was a thump and the sound of flesh being cut, and Rion's head fell to the ground.
The captain's face darkened.
He had been a valuable prisoner.
A Level 2 combatant was a rare resource even to the Empire.
"You just..."
"I'll join the company, Captain."
"...?"
Ian thought he could practically hear the captain's mind turning.
A Level 2 prisoner, or a mercenary evenly matched with a Level 2.
Which would benefit the mercenary company more?
The captain decided to look at the bigger picture.
"Good."
A sort of cheer rose from the people around them.
It was rougher and cruder than the kind Ian knew, but it was not bad.
*
Garuna Village.
A waystation village in the northeastern part of the continent, it served as a major transportation hub connecting the Dungeon City of Orario with the continent's center. Never quiet for even a moment due to its many travelers and adventurers, this village welcomed an adventurer party.
"Yeehaw! We're almost at Orario!"
A goddess...? with tied orange hair hopped excitedly as she looked around.
Four people followed behind her.
Four individuals of different races, heights, and traits.
One was a short blond Pallum.
Another was a green-haired elf, followed by a second elf.
Another was a short, heavily bearded dwarf.
Other than one of the elves, all of them were adventurers with exceptional talents that would not pale beside even high-level adventurers.
And their goddess, Loki, thought to herself.
There are too many men in this Familia.
Certainly, the Pallum Finn possessed handsome features, but he was a man at heart.
For Loki, who wanted to build a pseudo-harem Familia full of beautiful women, it was a thoroughly regrettable situation.
"All right, then! Which tavern should we visit this time...? I hope it's full of lovely young beauties!"
"Sorry, but we can't go to a tavern, Loki. Our Familia's finances aren't doing well."
"Wha? Why not?!"
"Isn't it because you got caught trying to grope a tavern owner last time?!"
Riveria, the elf, scolded Loki as the goddess was aghast to hear Finn say they had no money.
Just as Loki was about to despair at being told she could not visit a tavern—
"One hundred thousand valis if you win at arm wrestling! The entry fee is only one hundred valis! Adventurer or ordinary person, anyone can enter!"
"O-One hundred thousand valis! Gareth! Go, go!"
"...Hah."
At the announcement that an arm-wrestling victory would earn a prize of one hundred thousand valis, Loki's eyes lit up and she called out to her follower Gareth.
Gareth looked pitiably at his goddess, who was giggling over the thought of playing with women at a tavern, then stepped forward while warming up.
"Defeat the strongest mercenary of the Shark Tooth Mercenary Company!"
"Ahem. May I participate?"
"Do you have the entry fee?"
"Here it is."
After paying half his Familia's entire fortune, Gareth sat down and tried to see his opponent's face.
The person wore a robe trimmed with black fur, and from what he heard, they were called the strongest within their mercenary company.
Unable to infer their identity, Gareth frowned.
The long dark-blue hair spilling from the hood made the person seem like a woman, yet their air was masculine.
They were slender as well.
"All right, here's your opponent, Captain."
At a company member's words, the opponent held out an arm.
Their clothing had short sleeves, leaving the arm laid on the table completely bare. Gareth could not help but be shocked at the sight of it.
The arm was thin for its length, but packed with viciously dense muscle. The skin was smooth as silk, yet the palm was covered in calluses.
This will not be an easy opponent.
Gareth swallowed and clasped the opponent's hand. The match began.
For a while, their strength collided.
The contest between Gareth, the dwarf with the most outstanding strength among the physically strongest race of humanity, and an opponent of unknown power ended when the table supporting them shattered.
"...!"
"Kgh..."
My hand is numb.
Gareth grimaced and held his arm.
He could tell that his opponent had no Falna.
The distinctive aura that could be felt from adventurers was absent from that person.
Yet their strength surpassed the boundaries of humanity.
"W-What? What about the prize money...?"
"Tch."
In answer to Loki's question about the prize money, the opponent tossed over a money pouch.
It was not one hundred thousand valis, but it looked to contain at least one thousand.
Loki jumped around saying even this was good enough, while Riveria, who had come over at some point, looked down at her as though she were pathetic.
...
After watching that scene briefly, the mercenary lowered their hood and left.
Several mercenary company members followed behind.
Watching the mercenary's back as they returned to camp, Finn found himself deep in thought.
They definitely did not have Falna, yet they had pushed Gareth back through sheer strength.
"...Finn, that one there."
"Yes, remarkably strong..."
"What an unbelievably gorgeous young lady! We're recruiting her immediately!"
"...Hah."
Whether Finn let out a long sigh in exhaustion or not, Loki swore she would absolutely recruit that mercenary.
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