Chapter 111

The moment Minette first caught sight of it, she immediately sensed that it wasn’t human.

Of course, just looking at its appearance, it was clearly different from humans.

Lizardkin.

Or Lizardman.

Defined as humans resembling lizards, but from the perspective of the Lizardfolk, or rather, the Lizardmen, they might see humans as beings resembling them.

Their history is long.

Perhaps even sharing a history with dragons to some extent, if certain speculations are true.

It’s just that since they haven’t built civilizations or histories as concretely as modern humanity has, their history—dating back at least ten thousand years—has been historically proven by dragons themselves, so no one can deny it.

For instance, they’re considered one of the primeval races.

Just like the elves.

However, the being before her didn’t seem like an ordinary lizardman.

Its face wasn’t lizard-like so much as elongated, closer to that of a dragon.

She’d never seen a dragon herself, but she had vague memories from picture books and fairy tales.

And it looked almost exactly like those.

So, this creature seemed less like a lizardman and more akin to a dragon-man.

And meeting a dragon-man here could mean one of two things.

Either it was one of the rare sub-races living in the Water Dragon Valley.

Or perhaps it was a water dragon disguised as a dragon-man.

“Why has the old man come here?”

While Minette froze, unsure how to react, Aiseus stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, recognizing him.

“I merely came to check on the children while I was out.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Aiseus replied nonchalantly.

“How about him?”

“He’s consistent.”

Here, he was referring to Carriel.

“You’ve improved since you first came. Your hands and feet don’t go numb anymore, do they? Given how little you’re affected by the cold, it seems your self-control has grown.”

“…”

An accurate observation.

Indeed, Minette had gained some control over her abilities and now felt far less impacted by the cold.

In fact, the concept of cold had long lost meaning for her.

Eventually, he invited Aiseus for a walk.

“You’ve become quite sentimental in your old age.”

Though she responded sarcastically, her body obediently moved to walk beside him.

“Young lady, you too.”

Reluctantly, Minette followed.

“You might have guessed, but I’m the master of this area. It may seem strange that even a proper land has an owner, but the instinct to claim territory and possessiveness isn’t something you or I can avoid.”

“Well, don’t say unnecessary things. This place has been called the Water Dragon Valley for hundreds of years, so what does that mean?”

Despite Aiseus’ sarcastic tone, there was a natural respect underlying her words.

“That’s exactly it. I had to proclaim myself the owner to protect this place. Greedy ones somehow cannot leave empty lands alone.”

The dragon-man explained calmly.

“I am the guardian of the Thousand-Year Forest Sea, the master of the vast lake wider than the sky, and the guide of the snow-capped mountains….”

“Ransluth. That’s the name of this weirdo dragon. If it’s hard to pronounce, you can call him Rans or Lans, but only if the old man gives permission.”

Aiseus cut in abruptly, revealing his name.

“What an uncouth thing to do.”

The dragon-man glared angrily with his bright yellow eyes.

His blue skin flushed slightly purple, which was somewhat peculiar.

“Listening to all that would rot your ears, wouldn’t it?”

“Each carries centuries of our history and time. What harm is there in listening?”

“It’s none of my concern.”

As they bickered in this way, continuing their pseudo-small talk like a prolonged exchange of barbs—

“So, how about you? Are you starting to get a feel for it?”

“Hmm. I don’t have much interest in enlightenment or inspiration.”

“…Your talent and drive are opposites. Truly, heaven must be heartless. If you were dedicated, you’d be twice as strong by now.”

“That’s because the times are strange, right? You said it yourself—if you were born thirty years later, the continent would be under your feet.”

“That was then.”

“What about you?”

At that, the dragon-man, Ransluth, fell silent.

“Are you still unable to guarantee victory against someone like the Sword Saint?”

“That’s irrelevant. Still, lately I’ve begun to feel confident. Only…”

“Only?”

“There must be someone like him somewhere in this world.”

“What does that mean?”

“Life cycles endlessly. He will be reborn and someday face me with a sword. The world hasn’t let go of him yet.”

“Are you saying he reincarnated?”

“Perhaps.”

Even as he spoke, the dragon-man seemed tinged with nostalgia.

“Well, shouldn’t you be happy and look for him?”

“Unfortunately, he’s on the other side of the continent. We can’t reach that area, nor can we influence it.”

“If he dies, then what? Meeting again would be impossible, right? Then how do you judge who wins?”

“That too is fate.”

“Man, you’re such a drag.”

Aiseus clicked her tongue loudly.

“So, you didn’t call us here just to talk about this, right? What is it?”

“Aiseus, what do you think? Why is he able to undergo such training?”

“How should I know? Even Carriel, though not a genius, was always considered exceptionally talented in these areas. So…”

“Why are you deliberately speaking nonsense to deceive yourself?”

The golden-yellow eyes pierced her with a frosty glare.

“In my view, he lacks any real talent. Or if he ever had it, he doesn’t now.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I can see it with my own eyes. It’s different from yours. Among the dragons roaming the Western Continent, no one surpasses me in discernment when it comes to swords and martial arts. With that insight, I can confidently say that even if he once possessed exceptional talent, he doesn’t anymore. And even this is an extremely special case.”

“Talent in the past? How and why would existing talent disappear?”

“I don’t know. Hence, it’s a special case.”

It was an ambiguous conclusion.

“But look now. He’s already crossed a line long ago.”

“Grandeous could foresee the future. And seeing how things are flowing now, I believe he inherited that arrangement.”

“So, you think he instantly became stronger by taking others’ power? Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Not entirely wrong, right?”

“There are many things in this world that people can’t handle even if given.”

The Water Dragon, Ransluth, pointed his sharp clawed finger toward the distant white mountain peaks piercing the heavens.

“Do you think giving you that would make you capable of receiving it?”

“…Impossible.”

“That’s his situation now.”

“That’s a tough way to explain things.”

Aiseus scratched her head vigorously.

“So, ultimately, receiving is also a kind of ability, right?”

“Not entirely wrong, but incorrect. There’s something suspicious and strange about what he received itself.”

And the ability to bear it.

The very situation where he’s making it his own.

“There must be a guide. A leader. Without them, this is something he couldn’t receive even if he wanted to.”

“So, you’re saying Carriel didn’t achieve all this alone, but someone helped him, right?”

“Yes. Whether it’s a teacher, a senior, or a guide. That’s why he can move forward without hesitation.”

“So?”

“…You’ve wasted my words.”

Aiseus immediately denied it.

“No, I understand the gist. You’re interested in the method of teaching, whoever taught Carriel, right?”

“Yes.”

“But before hearing that from you, I had no clue. Do you get what I’m saying? Based on what I’ve observed, I can offer neither inspiration nor help to you.”

Ultimately,

Ransluth was asking about the secret behind Carriel’s growth process.

Less about Carriel’s rigorous training and unwavering dedication,

More about the belief and methods that enabled him to achieve this level.

Ransluth was, in essence, questioning precisely this point.

“I may belong to the Order of Aid Knights, but frankly, Carriel isn’t one of them. It’s the Aid Knights who cling to him one-sidedly.”

“Didn’t I say this before?”

There, Ransluth shifted the topic.

“The Golden Beast never attacked us. Thus, this area was safe—that’s the truth known to the public, right?”

“So? Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes. In fact, the opposite.”

The Golden Beast approached me earlier.

And it…

“Taught me a lesson.”

“…What did you say?”

“Accepting you and raising disciples was, in a way, a result influenced by its words.”

Stop isolating yourself in your own world.

That’s why you can’t defeat the Sword Saint.

“I couldn’t comprehend the intent behind those words, but I followed them to find a breakthrough.”

On the condition that the Demon King’s forces wouldn’t invade my domain, I refrained from interfering.

Thus, during that period, I remained content guarding my territory.

“And indeed, nurturing you these last few years brought greater growth than my solitary meditation for a hundred years. Recently, I finally understood why.”

“That’s intriguing. For someone like you to admit there’s still something you haven’t realized.”

“Even the tallest mountain peak lies beneath the sky.”

Then, after clearing his throat, Ransluth revealed a secret within a secret, speaking with a weighty voice.

“A tree does not eat its own fruit.”

“Huh? What kind of lofty nonsense is that?”

“Listen until the end.”

Ransluth shot an irritated glance at Aiseus interrupting him, then continued.

“A flower doesn’t spread its fragrance for itself.”

Neither the sun nor the moon emit light solely to illuminate themselves.

“And over there. That thing too.”

Ransluth pointed across the forest.

Whatever was there, whatever he indicated,

Minette quickly understood.

“The lake doesn’t fill itself with water to store in its granary. It doesn’t gather water just to drink it.”

“…?”

Aiseus’ expression showed she didn’t get it, but

Minette grasped it immediately.

“All… everything you’ve said so far… Are you implying it’s not for oneself but for others?”

“What does that mean?”

Why couldn’t the brilliant Aiseus understand such a simple statement?

“Yes. Ultimately, it’s you and the surrounding flora and fauna that use the water filling the lake. It’s you and the nearby animals that eat the fruits from the trees.”

“So? What are you implying? Should we start creating and reproducing?”

“Aiseus. Haven’t you traveled around trying to improve yourself to support Carriel? Haven’t you acted focusing on virtue and justice, even if inefficient, for the sake of future reputation?”

“Yes. For the future. Carriel told me that, and I judged it to be right at the time.”

“Exactly.”

“…?”

What exactly was this old man trying to say?

“Even though it’s invisible, everything we do is accounted for. Actions, thoughts, will, consciousness—all the results triggered by them.”

“…”

At that, Minette felt chills run down her spine. It was a story she often heard in religious doctrines.

Live virtuously, and you’ll receive blessings. Commit evil, and you’ll surely pay the price.

You reap what you sow.

Reap what you sow.

“To understand this means—even the Demon King, who could plunge the world into chaos, understood it—and I simply couldn’t grasp it.”

“Do you get what he’s saying?”

When Aiseus asked Minette,

“Karma.”

“Huh?”

“It’s what you’ve caused. It’s practically the same as saying it’s on you. You wished for it. You demanded it.”

“Why are you suddenly like this?”

“You give, and you receive accordingly.”

Ransluth nodded at Minette’s realization. His slanted eyes curved into a crescent—not out of mood, but definitely.

“Didn’t the ancient philosophers of Creek say that phenomena exist independently of intelligent beings’ will or consciousness, possessing objective causality?”

What is the origin of all things?

Various philosophical and magical schools branched out from this inquiry,

But the root was simple.

What is the origin of all things?

Those who sought to find or manifest it in material form focused on natural elements.

Initially, fire and water.

They observed their transformations and the myriad phenomena and results derived from those changes.

“All existing things have a proper reason, and the ultimate cause, the fundamental basis, is God. Some concluded. When we don’t know, it’s because God wills it—a simplistic and ignorant logic arising from this.”

“Old man, you know I hate philosophy and lofty talk.”

“What do you think is the cause, the foundation, behind Carriel becoming what he is?”

“Uh… I don’t know either?”

“What surprises me is that Carriel reached this point assuming all this as a premise.”

This could be packaged as a trial.

“It means he was inherently qualified for this.”

Yet, having qualifications doesn’t necessarily mean achieving it.

“Even if one qualifies to learn the Divine Dragon Sword technique, without reaching this level, they wouldn’t even have the chance to learn or practice it, up until their dying moment. Even Reurik and Aristeretis, if Mayer hadn’t brought them along?”

“They probably would’ve just lived contentedly with their lot, or managed despite dissatisfaction?”

“Let’s move on to Carriel’s story. Assuming Carriel was qualified, considering his journey thus far, and how he obtained results and organized them to come here, who guided him to this point?”

“…”

Superficially, Aiseus herself had guided Carriel here.

But applying the old man’s words differently,

…Ultimately, was it the good deeds or kindness Carriel bestowed in the past?

That connected their fates.

Thus, through that karma, she ended up guiding Carriel here.

This wasn’t random or predestined.

Yet, it was both random and predestined.

Receive as you give?

Minette began to understand why she had made such remarks.

From that perspective,

Let’s rethink this.

Before connecting with him, what circumstances led Carriel to leave his homeland and come to a foreign land?

Furthermore, what resolve prompted him to do so?

Prior to that, where and from whom did Carriel learn Grandeous’ swordsmanship?

Thinking about it, it was an incredibly simple question.

…Why had she never seriously considered this before?

Naturally, she assumed Carriel had his own intentions.

He’s an extraordinary guy, after all.

But who gave up thinking about it, using his extraordinariness as an excuse?

Let’s return to the original starting point.

Carriel, how exactly did you master Grandeous’ sword techniques?

Moreover, how do you know the fundamentals of Grandeous’ swordsmanship, unknown even to the Aid Knights?

And who taught you that?

And…

How can you push through such training methods, untaught by anyone, with such unwavering confidence?

“This doesn’t make sense.”

Something casually accepted suddenly appeared in the realm of impossibility.

And even accepting all that without question…

Now, it started sending shivers down her spine for some reason.

====

Again, I’m here.

I know this is the universe.

But it’s not real.

Where does imagination end?

This is merely a fabricated landscape by someone.

“There’s not much time left.”

And there,

A shadowy figure greeted me again.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

In his hand, something that was and wasn’t a sword, a dark shape, was gripped.

“What I know and what you know will likely diverge from here.”

“…”

“Knowing the future, in a way, is cruel.”

One defies the natural order, so one must pay the appropriate price.

But if that leads to a fitting outcome,

Even this temporary ripple, like foam created by a wave, within the grand flow of nature,

Is just a brief fluctuation. A variable. A tremor, perhaps.

“But I, incapable of producing or creating heirs, could only anticipate the future this way.”

“Trashy brat.”

The Golden Girl scoffed mockingly from afar.

“Sorry.”

This isn’t communication.

It’s a one-sided explanation, a sermon, a confession, a complaint, and nothing more.

Yet the shadowy figure reacted as if he’d heard the Golden Girl’s dismissive gesture.

“Still, I’ve merely done what I was supposed to do. I’ve probably repeated this message hundreds of times now.”

“…”

The Golden Girl waved her hand dismissively.

And watching this, Carriel asked,

“So, is this our final sparring session?”

“Yes.”

The shadowy figure answered straightforwardly.

“From now on, forge your own path.”

He raised his vertically-held sword.

So familiar, so overly familiar that it had become tiresome.

But now, it’s become more natural than breathing, leaving no discomfort or hesitation.

Like opening and closing one’s eyes.

To the point where one barely recognizes lifting the eyelid.

Something truly mastered.

Unbeknownst to me, I had already raised my sword in the exact same manner.

Parade.

Right.

This is Para (Parā).

Which meant “to prepare” or “prepare yourself,” if memory serves.

“…”

It was a genuinely simple meaning.

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