Paladin Of The End Vol 3.2 Side Story

Paladin Of The End Vol 3.2 Chapter Side Story

Glittering rays of sunlight shone through an endless number of enormous trees lined up like a temple’s colonnade. We were deep in Beast Woods, in the domain of the great Lord of the Woods, the Lord of Holly.

“Ohh! This is, great place! ‘You are very thoughtful, Sir William.’”

“‘No, trouble.’ So, about what we discussed...”

“Muh-huh. We accepted.”

The one nodding back was someone so large he was impossible to forget. He was the forest giant I’d fought with once, Gangr of the race of Jotunn. Tribal giants were walking all around the area with curiosity, setting up large canopy tents made of beast hide. The men were over three meters tall and the women more than two and a half, so they were quite the sight. It kind of made me feel like a halfling.


“Fighting people is a pain, whether win or whether lose.”

“You’re not kidding.”

I had slain the dragon, returned home, and held a party. If this were a story, it would have wrapped up at that point with “And they all lived happily ever after” and the fall of a curtain, but unfortunately, this was reality. There had been a lot of things to do in the aftermath. I’d reported to various relevant parties including His Excellency Ethel and Bishop Bagley to tell them that the issue had been safely resolved. To avert riots, I’d allayed the concerns of people who had become anxious. I’d checked the spread of misinformation by widely publicizing the facts. The dragon’s howling had caused trouble that required an urgent response all across Beast Woods. I’d brought all kinds of trouble under control, even trouble that was only brewing.

Even after all that was mostly dealt with, there were still a host of other things I needed to do. Figuring out what to do about the clan of forest giants we’d discovered had been one of them. Just like the dragons, the race generally called giants was said to be neutral, neither affiliated with the good gods nor the evil gods.

“Neutral” here didn’t mean that they wouldn’t support either side because they disliked conflict entirely. They could cope without the protection of either set of gods, and if someone picked a fight with them, no matter which faction the aggressor was part of, they had the strength to hit back and do a spectacular amount of damage. So they had no reason to bother getting involved in a faction war between these guys called gods. They were “neutral” in an extremely powerful sense.

It was said that in comparison to other giants, forest giants had only weakly inherited the blood of the Primordial Giants who existed in the age of the creation myth. Over the generations, their divinity had diminished, their lifespans had shortened, and they had become smaller, too. Despite that, however, their bodies were still three meters tall, and they had a high level of skill as elementalists, although they still fell quite a way short of Menel. There weren’t many of them, but they were a race of extremely high-quality and powerful battlemages. And this was what the comparatively weak-blooded forest giants were like.

The anecdotes about the Primordial Giants who had retained a strong influence from the age of creation were even more crazy. There were the towering Storm Giants, who lived in the eyes of tempests in the southern seas and walked the seas accompanied by raging winds. There were the Lava Giants, who spent eons sleeping within lava in large volcanic belts and woke up from time to time when the volcanoes erupted. There were the Cloud Giants, who made their home atop inexhaustible thunderclouds in the wastes far to the east and ran about the skies at will.

Though many of them had already departed this dimension, just hearing them described gave me a dizzying feeling of scale. I could understand why it was said that dragons and giants were equals. If I’d been something like that, I would have been able to fight Valacirca, one of the Primordial Dragons, in a physical punching match without ever retreating a single step.

Anyway, the problem was that we had discovered we had some very powerful neighbors deep in the forest. They may not have been quite as extreme as the mythical beings I described, but they had certainly inherited their blood. The fact that they were living in the depths of Beast Woods meant that beasts were nothing to them. In fact, judging by the lines of beast-hide canopies, they were the predators here, and the beasts were their prey. They were stronger than the beasts, in other words.

If they spread outwards and had an unfortunate collision with the steadily expanding area where people were living, all hell would break loose. Specifically, if a careless encounter turned into a fight and someone ended up dying on one side or the other, there might be no coming back from that. The casualties that would result would be absolutely no joke, and nothing good would come of it for anyone.

Of course, because the two of us did know each other, the negotiation route was open. It was possible that we could work something like that out with compensation. But that was a last resort, not something to rely on from the beginning. Which was why—

“Gangr and clan will protect big Lords.”

I had decided to approach them to ask whether they would move to the areas of the forest with the two gigantic trees known as the Twins of the Woods: the Lord of Oak and the Lord of Holly. I already knew their locations from the time we had that trouble with the horned demon called a Cernunnos.

Those two Lords of the Woods were the most vital part of Beast Woods. We couldn’t allow their domains to be destroyed with a Taboo Word or something, or it would be a disaster. However, the sacred territory of a Lord of the Woods had to remain lush with greenery by its nature, and so we couldn’t afford to let many people into it or develop it on any large scale. Basically, the only way to handle those areas was to treat them as forbidden; yet providing them no protection at all was also not an option.

We were between a rock and hard place, and that was where the giants came in. They would get a virtually permanent place to live, where they would never inadvertently bump into humans, and the Twins would have powerful guardians they could talk with living right nearby. This would most likely be beneficial for both of them.

I shook hands with him to conclude our contract. His hand was big and thick.

“Come to think of it... ‘Gangr, where, Western Common Speech?’”

“Long ago, near the outside the forest, a good man was... uhh... ang... angry... angry culture...? ‘Farming.’ I learned a bit from trade him fur and grain.”

“Huh...”

“That was before three hundred springs came, or more. After, one of the clan fought with humans. We moved into forest deep.”

That really was a long time ago. But if that was the case—

“Is it still... ‘possible, trade-things’?”

“Muh-huh. ‘We would be grateful to trade for metal, but what do you need?’”

“We ‘want, herbs, wood, beast hide, bones.’”

We talked like that about the items we wanted for a while and agreed on the general idea. We could leave the specifics to the people who would actually be involved in the trading.

“Oh,” Gangr said as that topic fizzled out. His eyes were on my back. “What you... uh... ‘What happened to that spear?’”

I did my best to force a smile onto my face as I answered him, but I probably made it a bitter one accidentally. “Unfortunately, it broke during my battle with the dragon.”

Gangr looked sorry for asking.

◆

Pale Moon was destroyed. It had been shattered, broken, and mangled during my battle with Valacirca. It may have been a spear protected by countless Signs, but attacks from a dragon, a being close to the Words, were the one thing it couldn’t handle. I’d been taking care not to let my weapons get destroyed, of course, but there was a limit to what I could do in that situation. So there was nothing I could have done. I just had to accept it...

I gave a long sigh. It was still depressing.

Having returned to Torch Port after that, I was now sitting on a pier and sighing. To tell the truth, I had already checked whether Pale Moon could be fixed. I had His Excellency introduce me to the most skilled blacksmith in Whitesails, and I asked him if there was anything he could do. The reticent blacksmith silently shook his head and said nothing else.

I must have had a unbearably sad look on my face when I received that answer. Perhaps out of pity, the blacksmith did some shortening work on the part of Pale Moon’s broken blade that had the Word of Light engraved on it and made a little dagger for me. The parts with the Signs of Sharpness and Strengthening were shattered and unsalvageable.

“It’s hard to get over it.”

I pulled the dagger shortened from Pale Moon from its sheath that was strapped to my hip and held it up to the sun. The blade gleamed nostalgically. But this dagger now fell far short of the standard of performance that I needed out of a weapon. It was lacking in too many ways for even my normal self to wield, and I dreaded to think what would happen if I tried seriously swinging it around after awakening the power of the foul-dragon sleeping in my soul. It would probably break the first time I hit it against something.

I had many opponents to fight, from beasts to the remnants of the demons and even the minions of unknown evil gods in the south. I couldn’t keep on using a poor-performance weapon just because of sentimentality. It was probably about time I searched for a new main weapon already. After all, at this point, I could pick whatever weapon I wanted.

Even the weapons I’d picked up while hunting around old ruins included several spears that simply outperformed Pale Moon. And if I wasn’t happy with any of those, I could pay some money to the merchants of Whitesails and buy a whole collection of spears from all kinds of places which could be transported here by ship. If I used my connections and made some earnest requests, I could probably even obtain the secret weapons of the dwarves or the elves.

I had access to a spear of old magic, with Signs of fire and lightning incorporated into the blade. There was a spear that tracked the enemy when thrown and could be returned to hand with a single Word. There was a consecrated spear that sharpened the mind of its holder and enhanced their resistance. Another option was a spear of misdirection made of mithril that was imbued with mystifying fairies. There was even a plain but easy-to-use spear that had simply been made to be extremely sharp and durable and which had been fortified with a Sign so that it would never dull.

But none of them felt right.

I’d probably been using Pale Moon for too long. Objectively speaking, Pale Moon wasn’t that strong a spear. It couldn’t match up to Overeater, the life-sucking sword that a demon king had made to kill the High King he opposed; nor was it a match for Calldawn, the small golden sun created by the god of the forge. It was simply an ordinary sturdy spear with an adjustable length and a shining blade. But even so, no matter what anyone said about it, that ordinary sturdy spear with an adjustable length and a shining blade had definitely been the Faraway Paladin’s main weapon. It had been the one weapon I most relied upon.

I couldn’t believe this had become of my favorite weapon. I probably still hadn’t picked myself up from the shock. I got the feeling I could now understand why Reystov insisted so strongly on his favorite sword. None of these weapons had the most important factor I’d taken for granted all this time: absolute confidence in them built up over years. Losing this was a bigger blow than expected.

I gazed silently at the dagger and thought about what to do with it. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take this shortened Pale Moon out on my adventures. If I did, it would either be simple dead weight, or I would break it. And yet, it didn’t feel right to leave it just decorating the mansion as a memento. What to do, I wondered. What could I do with this...

There were still many things to be done in the aftermath of the dragon-slaying, but I couldn’t get my mind off this. While I was deep in thought—

“I’m gonna do this, dammit! I’m doing this and I mean it!”

I heard a pretty spirited voice.

◆

Walking along the street beside the river, apparently seething with anger, was a boy about thirteen or fourteen years old. He had messy, black hair and strong, hazel eyes. He’d thrown on a coat over rough hemp clothing, and on his back was a crude quiver and bow. Also strapped to his waist was a club that he’d apparently cut from wood without much care. I guessed he was a hunter or adventurer in training.

“I’m gonna kill a beast and get its head!”

“L-Let’s not, Glen... It’s too dangerous!”

“Shut up, Alex, I’m going!”

Chasing after the boy was a ginger kid of about the same age, wearing slightly more substantial cotton clothing. My eyes were drawn to the dark, patched-together robe and the pretty old-looking ash wand with a little bit of cloudy silverwork at the tip. This one was clearly a sorcerer—but didn’t seem like a product of the Academy. Perhaps it was some regional hexmage branch of magic?

As I continued to watch idly, the boy disregarded the sorcerer’s attempts to stop him and went marching away from town.

I was getting a bad feeling, so I hurriedly called out to the two of them. “Um, excuse me.”

“Uh? Who’re you?”

The boy named Glen stared up at me with a combative look on his face. The sorcerer kid who had been called Alex looked a little relieved. I bent my knees a little and looked Glen in the eyes.

“I was just wondering where you’re going in such a rage.”

“Beast hunting, okay?! Beast hunting!”

“Beast hunting?”

“Yeah! What? Something wrong with wanting to be an adventurer?!”

Based on where we were and the direction they’d come from, I had a sneaking suspicion I knew what had happened here.

“Ahh... Did you happen to go to the Brown Bear?” I said, giving the name of an inn.

“So what if we did?!”

“U-Um, we... We just... bumped into each other on the road and... he said let’s go together... and then, um...”

“Those assholes!”

“Ahh...”

The Brown Bear was the hangout of some particularly rough adventurers, even for Torch Port. There were some fairly nasty characters among them. If a couple of young, aspiring adventurers went wandering into a place like that, the way they would be treated would probably be decidedly cruel and demeaning.

It was a safe bet what had happened. They’d pretty much been laughed out of the building, and now Glen was burning with determination to come back with the head of a beast or something and shove it in their faces. He in particular looked like he had a strong sense of justice. It had probably left a very bitter taste in his mouth that his companion had been mocked as well.

However, the cruel reality was they simply weren’t strong enough. I could tell at a glance that although Glen, most likely a hunter originally, had certainly undergone some training, he was only one or two rungs up from a beginner. As for Alex, the sorcerer kid, he—maybe she? It probably wasn’t worth asking. In any case, I had no idea about the extent of Alex’s knowledge, but he didn’t look like he had any practical battle experience. The way he stood and moved his eyes about was typical of an amateur. If a beast suddenly appeared in front of him, he would probably have difficulty uttering a swift and precise Word.

“If you keep heading that way,” I said in a cold voice, “you’re going to die.”

This was Beast Woods. I knew firsthand how dangerous it was. Alex the sorcerer jumped a little and shrunk back. Maybe he sensed something in my tone. Glen looked overawed for just a second, but his fighting spirit quickly rekindled and he snapped back, “You can’t be an adventurer if you’re scared of dying, dumbass!”

He had guts. But how much?

“Alright, but have you ever thought of a situation worse than death?”

“Huh?”

“Snake-beasts paralyze their enemies and dissolve them alive in their stomachs over several days. Have you ever imagined what it feels like for your body to be slowly dissolved?”

Alex breathed in sharply and gulped.

“Or becoming a zombie,” I said, while apologizing internally to Stagnate. “Or losing all your arms and legs and unluckily surviving. Or getting taken away by bandits and being sold into bondage.”

If he gave himself over to anger and rushed into the deep part of Beast Woods teeming with beasts, those were the kinds of fates that awaited him, unless he was blessed with very good luck. Well, actually, Beast Woods was too dangerous for there to be many bandits, but the others were true. In any case, if I could get him to reconsider, that would be for the best.

Glen grit his teeth, then drew in a breath and said, “We’ve got nowhere to go back to anyway! We’ve got no choice.”

Apparently they had no way of retreating. Glen, I supposed, had either been abandoned or lost his parents or something. From the look of Alex’s gloomy expression, it was the same for him.

“But Glen, I think Alex there won’t be able to abandon you. Alex is going to die with you.”

That took the wind out of his sails. He bit his lip. He had come all the way to Torch Port in desperation, with no knowledge and no idea of what to do. He was simply trying to use anger and momentum to force his way through the anxiety of not being able to see a way forward or a way out. I was sure that even he knew that continuing on this path would get him nowhere.

“U-Um, are you... an adventurer?” Alex asked.

“No, I’m not.” At least, I didn’t think I could call myself that anymore. “But I kind of understand them.”

“Y-You do? Then please! Please tell us! What should we do?!”

“Okay, so...”

Even when the situation is against you, full of unknowns, and panic is running high, first calmly gather information. The passion Glen had was important, but Alex’s calm disposition was also an important quality to have. With both those traits between them, their chances of survival looked good.

“Forget about the Brown Bear for the time being. At the end of that street, there’s a tavern with a sign outside like a big fish. It’s called the Cerulean Seagod. Try giving that place a visit. The owner there will look after you.”

The owner of the Cerulean Seagod would draw together aspiring adventurers who were just starting out into proper parties, assign them requests they could handle, and give them a little bit of advice as well. Unlike the rough inns like the Brown Bear, it was a tavern of relatively—I stress that word—relatively good repute.

As Alex nodded at me and Glen continued to regard me with a little suspicion, I decided to give them a little more advice, though I knew they hadn’t asked for it.

“Listen. ‘Adventurer’ probably sounds exciting to you, but do you know what it actually means? It means risk-taker. The job of an adventurer is to take on risk. And it isn’t about being reckless or foolhardy. It’s about making sure you’re absolutely prepared so you can survive, and facing off against risks that are a matter of life and death with everything you’ve got.”

And then Fate will bias her ruthless dice just a little in your favor.

“Never get desperate. Check what you’re told. Don’t skimp on gear. And you also need just a little wisdom and courage. And then someday you’ll definitely get to where you want to be.” I grinned. “The good gods bless you.”

Before I knew it, I had taken Pale Moon’s shortened dagger out and offered it to them.

“Huh?”

“Take it.”

“Heh. A dagger? That’s a hell of—”

“G-Glen! Glen! It... It has a Sign on it!”

“A Si—It’s a magic dagger?!”

“Yep. The Sign really isn’t anything amazing, though. I’m giving it to both of you.”

I felt that I wanted to celebrate the start of these young adventurers’ journeys. I couldn’t travel out on adventures with Pale Moon anymore. But if Pale Moon, the spear I’d found underground on that day, could travel on adventures with someone else—if its journey could continue—that would surely be a wonderful thing.

“It has the Word of Light engraved on it, so it should be good as a lantern, at least.”

“Wh-What are you after?”

Oh, right, it would be a bit scary for someone to just give you an item like this. After all, they had no idea what I was getting out of this or why I might be doing it. I would find that creepy, too.

“Well... would you mind sticking around for a bit of a long story?”

“A long story?”

“Yep. You see, it’s an ancient warrior tradition when handing over a magic weapon to talk about its history.”

“It better not be bullshit.”

“G-Glen!”

I laughed. “I don’t mind if you treat it that way.”

In exchange, I thought it was only fair for me to keep them a while.

“This is the story of a spear,” I began. “It was forged by ancient dwarves, it killed a chimera, it punched through dragonscale...”

And the Faraway Paladin trusted it more than anything else in the world.

I recounted the journey of Pale Moon, which was always there to light up the world, even on nights when the darkest clouds covered the sky.

— Finis.