Chapter 169: Extra - Their First Meeting (3)
When they asked to borrow the restaurant's backyard, the owner readily agreed. Junk had been piled up in the corners, and the ground was overgrown with weeds, but it was still wide enough for a duel.
Hamel and Vermouth stood facing each other. Hamel really didn’t like how calm Vermouth looked as if the hero didn’t have anything to be nervous about.
Vermouth was the Hero of Light.
Hamel had heard this title many times before, but what did it even mean? Clicking his tongue, Hamel threw off his cloak.
Beneath his cloak, Hamel was wearing a set of thin leather armor that wasn’t too heavy and wouldn’t get in the way of his movements. On top of that, he had a chainmail shirt that stopped short of his elbows and had several weapons attached here and there. Hamel took off each weapon, set them down, and even pulled off his chainmail.
“Just how much lighter do you think you’ll get just by taking that off?” Sienna, who had been watching with her back leaning against a wall, commented sarcastically with a smirk.
From her perspective as a wizard, everything that Hamel was doing was crude and ignorant. If her body and equipment felt heavy, all Sienna needed to do was cast a spell to lighten them instead of taking them off.
“Can’t you just keep your trap shut for a moment?” Hamel complained.
“What did you just say?” Sienna hissed.
Hamel sighed, “Apart from you, no one else seems to be annoying me right now, so isn’t it obvious that I'm talking to you?”
Sienna’s eyes widened at the smirk that Hamel had just shot her, and she turned to Vermouth to ask, “Vermouth, can’t I just fight him in your stead?”
“Sienna, you were the one who picked a fight with him first, weren’t you?” Vermouth pointed out.
“Why does it matter who picked a fight first? I just don’t like that bastard, so I want to beat him up,” Sienna demanded.
“You’ve finally come up with a good idea. Do you know that, during my travels here and there, I’ve had to put up with a lot of people calling me a piece of trash? Want to know why that is? It’s because I won’t hesitate to smack someone down, even if they are a fucking woman. If you have the confidence, get up here, I’ll bury that pretty face of yours into the ground and leave you with a mug that only a mother would love,” Hamel threatened with a ferocious expression.
He had expected Sienna to explode in rage and charge over, but Sienna didn’t react the way that he had predicted, instead staring at Hamel with wide eyes. Then, after blinking a few times, she cleared her throat and slightly turned her head away to avoid his gaze.
Sienna stammered out, “...Well… um… that’s… your face isn’t bad either, I guess.”
“What are you saying all of a sudden?” Hamel responded in confusion.
“No… um… thanks for calling me pretty. Despite your appearance, it seems that your eyes are quite… quite sharp. Though I guess you were only pointing out the obvious. A-as such, I choose to forgive you,” Sienna declared proudly.
‘She drank a little bit earlier, but could she already be drunk?’ Hamel thought as he shot another glance at Sienna.
Of course, Sienna hadn’t actually gotten drunk off the tavern’s wine. She secretly stole sips of Anise’s holy water every day, and sometimes she would train her alcohol tolerance by drinking with Anise all night long. So there was no way that she would get drunk after just a few cups of wine.
Sienna was just unused to getting compliments on her appearance.
This couldn’t be helped, as she had been abandoned in the Samar Rainforest and was then raised by the elves. This meant that Sienna’s family and neighbors were all members of a race that was praised as the most beautiful in the world. Beauty was something that the elves just took for granted, so there was no reason for them to praise one another’s beauty.
‘...As I thought, someone like me really is pretty, right?’ Sienna thought to herself as she cleared her throat and unconsciously stroked her face.
She had been around hundreds of elves since she was young, so it was hard for Sienna to be confident in her appearance.
“Would you like to go first?” Vermouth spoke up.
Vermouth was standing there casually, his hands empty as he hadn’t even drawn his sword. For him to then say such a thing while looking so relaxed, Hamel’s face couldn’t help but contort into a scowl.
“Aren’t you going to draw the Holy Sword?” Hamel demanded.
“You’re not a demonfolk or even a demonic beast,” Vermouth pointed out.
“Then you can just draw a different sword,” Hamel growled. “If not a sword, then some other weapon.”
Hamel recalled all the rumors that he had heard about Vermouth. Vermouth Lionheart’s skill in magic had reached a high enough level that he could also be compared to an Archwizard. He was the master of the Holy Sword, but he could even wield various weapons besides the Holy Sword, and he kept those weapons in a subspace created by his spatial magic.
“...Hmmm,” Vermouth hummed thoughtfully for a few seconds before stretching out his hand.
In response to his gesture, the space in front of him seemed to waver, and the hilt of a sword suddenly protruded from thin air.
…But it was just an ordinary sword. Hamel couldn’t feel anything suspicious coming off of it, and its appearance wasn’t anything remarkable either. It was just a long, straight sword.
Stomp.
Hamel gritted his teeth and lowered his stance. During Vermouth’s momentary hesitation, Hamel could finally tell what exactly was bothering him about Vermouth’s attitude.
Vermouth seemed to feel like he didn’t even need a weapon. The man had held such confidence, but he had still drawn a sword out of consideration for his opponent.
‘How kind of him,’ Hamel thought with a sneer.
Vermouth was the hero who was loved by everyone. Of course, he would have such confidence. But that being said, Hamel didn’t allow himself to be intimidated.
The mana manipulation that Vermouth had shown earlier was indeed amazing. It was impossible for Hamel to manage such elaborate manipulations of mana while targeting a space so far away from his own body.
However, if the target of the mana manipulation was inside of his own body, then Hamel still held confidence.
Mana flowed out of his core and spread throughout his body in an instant. At the same moment, Hamel had already kicked off the ground and charged into Vermouth’s range.
‘...Ohoh,’ Sienna thought as her eyes sparkled.
In that instant, the young Archwizard noticed just how explosively Hamel had accelerated the mana under his control, and she realized that his sophisticated mana manipulation was actually far from being as crude as she had expected.
‘His total amount of mana isn’t that impressive. It’s also not that pure. And just by mobilizing that amount of mana, his core is already being pushed to its limits,’ Sienna critiqued.
What this meant was clear. Hamel’s mana training scripture had surely been of poor quality. Sienna didn’t know when the hell he had started training his mana, but it was obvious that this mercenary’s mana training scripture wasn’t as polished as the skills he had personally developed.
‘....But how could he have reached this level… with such a poorly developed core?’ Sienna marveled.
No matter how hard Hamel had trained with his garbage training scripture, he should have still ended up with just a slightly better class of garbage. However… Sienna couldn’t bring herself to think of this mercenary’s mana manipulation as mere garbage. He might only be a mercenary, but his mana manipulation and mana control were smoother than any other knight she had seen thus far.
Anise also began to concentrate as she stared at the clash between Hamel and Vermouth. She could now understand why Vermouth had stubbornly insisted on accepting Hamel as their comrade.
‘...He has potential,’ Anise muttered to herself.
Hamel’s potential was different from that of Sienna, Anise, and Molon. He was just a mercenary who had never received proper instruction. But he had slowly trained himself to where he was now by going through countless battlefields and surviving them all.
The flow of his mana was irregular, but he had still managed to attune that turbid current with just his innate senses and focussed exclusively on accelerating his movements instead of strengthening his sword-force.
But what if someone could correct that imperfection for him?
Hamel twisted his body violently as he swung his sword. His slash hammered into Vermouth’s side. But the moment that his attack drew close, his sword shook. One slash split into dozens of slashes that all surged forward simultaneously to chop Vermouth’s body into pieces.
Vermouth’s body finally began to move in response to this slash. His sword flowed as smoothly as water as it approached Hamel’s sword.
Claaang!
As their mana collided with each other, a burst of sound was produced.
Hamel’s mana recoiled backward. After just one clash, his sword-force had been destroyed in a single moment. Hamel squeezed strength back into his throbbing hands and grabbed hold of his mana, which was in a mess from the backlash. Then he raised his sword-force once more. The blade of mana that returned to cover his sword immediately underwent a conversion.
The blade burst into flames. Then, as if the sword had been doused in oil, these flames instantly grew to a great size and tried to swallow Vermouth.
The moment she saw this, Sienna shook her head and thought, ‘It’s over.’
Anise also let out a short sigh. She then prepared a recovery spell just in case of some unforeseen circumstances.
As for Molon, he just stood there with his large eyes peeled open, watching until the end.
‘...My flames?’ Hamel realized something was off.
His extreme concentration lengthened his perception of time.
He was forced to watch as pure, white flames wrapped around Vermouth’s body. Embers scattered off of Vermouth’s shoulders like a lion’s mane. Vermouth’s sword hadn’t even moved, but the pure white flames he had summoned consumed Hamel’s blaze.
Was this the end?
Hamel desperately held on to his consciousness. There wasn’t even any backlash of mana. Instead, all the mana he poured into the flames disappeared. Even so, Hamel forced his body to move. He had gone through hundreds of battlefields, survived numerous close brushes with death, and overcome countless challenges. His body, which had been with Hamel through all these struggles, resisted the inevitable defeat.
He still had a dagger hidden beneath his wrist. If he couldn’t win with a sword, then Hamel was desperately planning to get in close and stab Vermouth in the side, but….
Boooom!
A wall of flames swept across the ground towards him, and Hamel was blown backward by the impact. Unable to even arrest his fall, Hamel landed on the ground face-first.
“...Isn’t that… a little too harsh?” Sienna muttered with a shake of her head.
Should she cast a healing spell? Anise considered the question for a moment before lowering her outstretched hand.
Anise justified her decision, “If Vermouth doesn’t show the clear gap that lies between them, that mercenary will just try again and again.”
“Amazing!” Molon shouted in a loud voice.
Sienna and Anise both turned to look at Molon, startled by the loud shout that had erupted from beside them.
Molon continued shouting, “That spirit of not giving up until the very end, he truly is a warrior!”
Before being blown away by the approaching wave of flames, Molon saw Hamel throw his dagger. Vermouth had been confident of his victory and hadn’t expected that tiny dagger to pierce through the flames and come flying at him.
But in reality, that dagger didn’t do any damage to Vermouth’s body. However, it had managed to slightly brush by Vermouth’s sleeve before completely burning up into ash.
Vermouth stared at the mark on his sleeve in amazement. To think that Hamel would truly be able to land a blow on him. Although there might not be any wounds left on his body, the fact that his opponent could leave a cut on the hem of his sleeve even when there was such a gap between them was enough to surprise Vermouth.
But such a surprise only caused Vermouth to laugh for a moment before he addressed the fallen Hamel, “...It seems that I’m stronger than you.”
With a thin smile on his face, Vermouth approached Hamel and stretched out his hand.
…Hamel’s face hurt. His nose felt like it had been broken, and the inside of his mouth was filled with dirt. His body, which had been struck by the flames, was also screaming in protest.
Hamel had lost. There were no excuses that he could make for such a crushing defeat. He didn’t even know when he had last lost so completely. Could a person like Vermouth… truly exist in this world? Just how could it even be possible?
“...Shut up,” Hamel snarled.
The outcome of their duel wouldn’t change even if they fought once more. However, Hamel couldn’t just admit defeat. Seizing hold of his dizzied consciousness, Hamel glared at Vermouth.
Looking up at his gray hair and golden eyes, the bastard was just standing in front of Hamel, still clad in his white flames.
Vermouth had extended his hand towards him…. What? Was this guy offering a handshake? Instead of accepting the handshake, Hamel raised his hand and grabbed his nose.
Crack!
Wrenching his nose straight, Hamel held it in place until the nosebleed had stopped.
Looking down at the sword in his right hand… the blade was gone. That white flame had shattered his sword into pieces. Was mana really capable of instantly exploding a sword into pieces like that? No, it wasn’t just the mana. It had actually started from the very first time their swords had collided with each other. Vermouth had seen right through Hamel’s sword techniques the moment before their blades had met and had used this to destroy Hamel’s blade.
Vermouth was in a different class.
Hamel wasn’t an idiot. He had known that there would be a massive gap between himself and Vermouth. Even if they fought hundreds or even thousands of matches, Hamel didn’t have any confidence in being able to beat Vermouth even once.
But Hamel refused to accept this truth. It felt like the moment he accepted this, he would also have to admit that he would never be able to defeat Vermouth.
“...Fuck. Again. Let’s fight again. I haven’t lost…!” Hamel growled.
Hamel hated losing. Defeat may have been familiar to him starting from a young age, but it was still a disgusting and unpleasant thing that he refused to get used to, no matter how many times it had happened.
He had lost everything at a young age and started living as a mercenary. Over that time, Hamel had gotten better at fighting in order to survive. He wasn’t a good fighter from the very beginning. Hamel had experienced numerous defeats, then, at some point, victories began to outnumber his losses.
Hamel couldn’t allow himself to get used to losing. Ever since he was young, Hamel had blindly followed this edict.
“If you can’t accept it, then fine,” Vermouth agreed with a nod as he withdrew his hand.
Vermouth then took a few steps backward as he continued to stare at Hamel. Hamel dropped the broken sword onto the ground and clenched his fists. If a sword wouldn’t work… then maybe he could use his fists? Hamel was confident in his brawling. Even before he had become a mercenary, he had often boxed with the other children in his village, and after becoming a mercenary, he swung his fists all the more often.
Up to now, Hamel had always thought of himself as a genius. He had enough talent that it made sense for him to do so. Ever since he was young, he hadn’t felt any real difficulty when it came to learning new things, and his skills had also improved faster than the rest.
Even after becoming a mercenary, his confidence in himself hadn’t changed. On the contrary, he had built trust in himself, which reinforced his own self-confidence.
I’ve never seen a brat who’s as good with a knife as you.
Did you just say that you can already sense mana?
Is that sword-light? That’s impossible!
All of the mercenaries who had met the young Hamel were shocked by him. Some of them grew jealous of Hamel’s talent and had even tried to cripple him for it. When it came to the envy that followed geniuses, Hamel had always been on the side of the ones being envied.
Although he had become familiar with the cries of shock coming from his surroundings… as well as people calling him a genius, Hamel hadn’t allowed himself to become complacent in his arrogance. He hadn’t neglected to work hard and train.
That was how he had been able to cultivate such a level of skill.
But his opponent was the hero, Vermouth Lionheart. So it only made sense for him to lose. The truth was that having any expectation of winning in the first place was the most absurd thing.
However, Hamel couldn’t allow himself to lose like this. Without even having been able to land a proper attack on Vermouth, he couldn’t allow himself to admit defeat, even as he felt this overwhelming gap in their skills. Even if it wasn’t an equal fight, there at least had to be an exchange of blows. Even if it meant fighting hundreds or thousands of times, Hamel had to believe that he would be able to win at least once or twice.
“...Hey,” Hamel eventually called out.
Now, he didn’t even have the strength left to pick his body off the ground.
They had already fought twice, and Hamel had lost both times. He hadn’t even been able to brush the hem of Vermouth’s clothes like he had in the first match. It wasn’t just because of those pure white flames either. Hamel had also been completely defeated when they competed solely with their bodies. All of the techniques that Hamel had held such trust and confidence in had done anything to Vermouth.
Hamel continued, “...I’m a lot weaker than you. So just why do you want me to become your comrade?”
Hamel felt like there wasn’t any reason for which he could possibly accept this offer. Having struggled so hard, he had realized just how much of a gap there was between them. Even if he did become one of Vermouth’s companions, it was clear that he would just be a burden holding on to their ankles.
Hamel didn’t know how to use magic, and of course, he didn’t know how to use holy magic either. He also wasn’t as barbarically huge as Molon.
That was why he definitely couldn’t accept it.
Was it because he was strong? No, Hamel was weak compared to them. Was it because he was a genius? Obviously not. So what exactly did they want from him? Why did this monstrous bastard come looking for Hamel to invite him to become his companion and was even willing to fight with Hamel three times?
“Because I need you,” Vermouth stated.
But Vermouth’s reply just sounded like a joke to him.
“...That’s why I’m asking why the fuck you need me…?! You’re obviously stronger than me!” Hamel let out a roar as he slammed his fist into the ground.
He had lost. He had never had any chance at winning. After being defeated by Vermouth in all three fights, all Hamel could feel was rage at himself.
“If I won, you would become my comrade. Isn’t that what you promised?” Vermouth reminded him.
“But I just can’t understand it! If you told them you wanted them as your comrade, there aren’t just one or two strong bastards who would be flattered by the offer. So why the hell would you come to me with this?!” Hamel demanded as he raised his head to glare at Vermouth.
Instead of replying immediately, Vermouth gazed at Hamel with calm eyes. In the face of that stare, Hamel unconsciously swallowed a gulp. Those shining gold eyes were unwaveringly calm, but they were also so intense that it was as if they could penetrate through everything they saw and reveal the truth hidden inside his heart.
“You’re the last one,” Vermouth’s lips parted. “So let's go there together, Hamel.”
Vermouth offered his hand to Hamel once more, but Hamel didn’t grab hold of the hand immediately.
Since he had lost, then all he needed to do was follow Vermouth. If he could just think of it like that, then Hamel would be more at ease, but Hamel needed a different reason to agree to go with Vermouth.
“...You rotten bastard,” Hamel cursed.
Picking up the shattered pieces of his pride, Hamel collected himself. He then firmly accepted the fact that he wasn’t a genius. After doing this, Hamel looked up at Vermouth.
“...You… just what are you planning on doing?” Hamel asked.
“We’re going to cross the sea and journey to Helmuth,” Vermouth answered.
“...None of the ships in this port are willing to sail to Helmuth.”
“If I tell them I’ll be going with them, they’ll set sail.”
Vermouth was probably right. Hamel let out a hollow laugh at this. None of the merchant ships were willing to sail to Helmuth because the sea that lay between was far too dangerous. Beneath the sealine, the waters were filled with violent monsters and demonic beasts, and above the sealine, black wizards and undead sailed the waters in their ghost ships.
If there was a sufficient escort force, the ships might be willing to depart, but a major battle had been fought in this city just a few days before. The only ones still full of energy were the clumsy, young knights who had just been promoted to fill the empty spots left by the dead. Among the surviving knights and mercenaries, the only one volunteering to go to the hellish place that was Helmuth was Hamel.
However, if Vermouth and his companions said they would be taking a ship there, all of the knights blinded by the legend of the mighty hero would surely flock to board the same ship. Even disregarding their numbers, the merchant ships would be willing to set sail for Helmuth as long as Vermouth agreed to board their ship.
“...And what… do you intend to do in Helmuth?” Hamel continued.
“We’re going to kill the Demon Kings,” Vermouth replied without any hesitation. “First, we’re going to kill the Demon King of Carnage. Then we’ll kill the Demon King of Cruelty, and after that, we’ll kill the Demon King of Fury. Once we’ve killed the Demon King of Incarceration, all that’s left is to kill the Demon King of Destruction.”
Vermouth still hadn’t withdrawn his hand.
“In order to kill the Demon Kings, we need your strength,” Vermouth earnestly requested. “Hamel Dynas, without you, I… no, we won’t be able to slay all of the Demon Kings.”
It sounded absurd. Did Vermouth really just say that he was going to kill all the Demon Kings? As the hero chosen by the Holy Sword, it sounded plausible, but what the hell did Vermouth mean by saying that he wouldn’t be able to kill the Demon Kings without Hamel?
“...If that’s the case, then it can’t be helped,” Hamel gave in with a sigh.
Was Vermouth just soothing the sore feelings of a loser? That was most probably the case.
…But did he really have any reason to do so?
Hamel didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about it. The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt.
“...Well, I was just looking for a way to cross the sea,” Hamel admitted as an excuse to take Vermouth’s hand.
“What a prideful pretense,” Sienna, who had still been leaning with her back against the wall, spat out in an attention-catching voice.
Beside her, Molon was looking at Vermouth and Hamel with thick streams of tears pouring from his eyes.
Then, with his arms held wide open, Molon approached Vermouth and Hamel to say, “Warriors on different paths have now joined together to work towards the same purpose! Now that we’re comrades, we may have been born on different days[1] , but the day we achieve our ultimate goal will be the same!”
While shedding hot-blooded tears, Molon embraced Hamel and Vermouth.
“...Are you done?” Anise asked as she lifted her empty holy water flask and turned it upside down over her mouth to pour out the last remaining drops of holy water. “Hamel, because we had to deal with your stubbornness, I wasn’t able to hold our evening service. Just how are you going to take responsibility for that?”
“...What do you expect me to do about that?” Hamel asked grumpily.
“Allow me to enlighten you. Anise likes to drink. You know what that means, right? She wants you to go buy her something to drink,” Sienna advised Hamel with a giggle as she waved her finger.
A gust of wind blew away the dust clinging to Hamel's body.
“Hmm, since we’re welcoming a new companion today… then even God should forgive me for skipping today’s service,” Anise confirmed Sienna’s suggestion.
Hamel eyed the two women warily, “...What… is with you two? Why are you acting so friendly all of a sudden? Didn’t you say that you hated me and that I was a piece of shit?”
“Hamel, I have never said that I hated you or called you a piece of shit. If I had to say it, then I might admit that you are an asshole, but is there anyone in this world who can really swear to love everyone else in existence? As long as you’re human, you can still think that someone else is an asshole; and as a Saint, I am no exception to that,” Anise confessed as she stared at Hamel through her narrowed eyes. “As such, while people can still think of each other as assholes and slightly act as assholes to each other, we still need to get along and come to understand each other. As for us in particular, since we’ll have to fight together from now on while placing our lives in each other's hands, we should get to know each other even more deeply than in an ordinary relationship.”
“Uh… a-alright,” Hamel stammered, overwhelmed by the sermon.
“And there’s nothing like drinking together to get to know each other. The reason alcohol exists is that by making people intoxicated, it allows people to reveal their true selves without any deception; so, by getting drunk together, we can come to understand one another more deeply. That’s why alcohol is actually holy water,” Anise concluded.
“That’s why you should buy some expensive and good-quality alcohol,” Sienna added helpfully from the side.
“...Or else, could it be that you don’t want to drink with us? Did you prefer it when we disliked you earlier?” Anise accused.
Hamel defended himself, “It’s just suspicious that your attitude has changed so quickly.”
“We thought that you were just a slob without any skills who made his living by talking big, but having seen you fight with Vermouth, we’ve come to appreciate you,” Anise admitted honestly.
“Your persistence is also pretty good,” Sienna complimented.
Molon chimed in, “Your eyes that burned hot until the very end were truly fitting for a warrior.”
What strange guys. Hamel thought as he freed himself from Molon’s arms.
“...Do you like to drink as well?” Hamel asked uncertainly, glancing at Vermouth.
Something seemed to have amused Vermouth, as he’d kept the smile from earlier.
“I don’t dislike it,” Vermouth responded.
“That’s quite an ambiguous answer,” Hamel complained.
Anise explained, “Although he phrased it like that, Sir Vermouth has never refused a drink.”
“If that’s the case, then let’s go get some drinks,” Hamel said, recalling what Vermouth had said earlier.
Have you eaten yet?
Then let’s have a meal together.
Then, just like Vermouth had, he turned around and started leading the way forward.
‘...That bastard, he won’t kick a rock at me, will he?’
Hamel was suddenly concerned that a stone might come flying at the back of his head, but Vermouth didn’t suddenly kick a stone at him like Hamel had done before.
“...Hahaha.”
Instead, the sound of laughter rang out from behind him.