Descending from the mountain peak, we flew northwest. We kept flying until the sun set.
It wasn’t that fast. It was almost like lightly jogging.
With nothing but snow and mountain ranges in sight, I had to compare the vague memories of the past with the scenery before me to figure out the direction, so I couldn’t speed up.
If I wasn’t careful, I might miss the timing to change direction and end up going the wrong way.
“Let’s rest here.”
Like yesterday, after the sun set, I carved out a cave in the mountain peak and rested inside.
“Haah…”
I stretched in front of the campfire, basking in the warm glow and feeling good.
So warm. Magic really is the best. If it weren’t for the Rune of Fire, the two of us swordsmen wouldn’t have been able to attempt this crazy journey through the mountain ranges.
—
Unlike yesterday, when we were completely exhausted, we still had some stamina and energy left, so instead of sleeping right away, we sat facing the campfire and passed the time leisurely.
Unlike yesterday, when we barely melted some rations, today we cooked a proper stew and even brewed some black tea with the tea leaves I brought along, just in case.
“Hey, Ha-shal-leur. About what happened during the day…”
After warming up enough to take off my coat and purifying the stuffy air with mint-flavored tobacco, Damien suddenly spoke up as if he had just remembered something.
“What happened during the day?”
“You know, when we saw the World Tree, you said something.”
Ah, you mean when I told you that the emotion you were feeling was hostility and hatred.
At the time, I just blurted it out naturally, but now that I think about it, it sounded like a witch teaching a pure-hearted hero about hatred.
…Surely, he wouldn’t be unable to draw the Holy Sword just because he realized such emotions, right?
I’m a little worried… but it should be fine. Hatred and disgust toward evil aren’t considered that bad by the standards of the Holy Sword. After all, Elpinel’s teachings preach hating evil.
“Why bring that up now? Is something bothering you?”
“Well… you said it was disgust or hatred, but after thinking about it, it feels a bit different.”
“Different?”
I tilted my head and asked again.
“How should I put it… Hatred is when you can’t tolerate the ‘enemy’ and want to kill them in the most brutal way possible, right?”
“Right.”
“Then… it’s probably not hatred.”
Damien nodded as if he had confirmed something and looked straight at me.
“Because… even though it’s not as intense as when I saw the World Tree, I feel something similar when I look at you, Ha-shal-leur. My head and chest feel a bit hot, and I feel like swinging my sword.”
“…What?”
What the hell is this guy saying?
I frowned in confusion and asked again.
You want to cut me down?
After all this time, suddenly spouting nonsense…
Could it be that, like the original protagonist, he instinctively hates the being that was originally set as the boss—that is, ‘Mad Hersela’?
Was the hero I’ve been raising all this time not a guarantee of a comfortable retirement, but a tiger cub that would stab me in the back?
…No, that can’t be.
If that were the case, things would’ve gone wrong long ago.
Normally, it would be unthinkable, but if I were exhausted after a fierce battle, there would’ve been plenty of opportunities to cut my throat.
…Right?
I forcibly held back my gaze, which was instinctively moving toward Durandal’s hilt, and pressed Damien further.
“You hate me enough to want to kill me…? Are you saying you want to fight to the death?”
“Huh…? No, wait, that’s not what I meant! Just listen to me until the end!”
Damien jumped up in surprise and took a few steps back.
His wide eyes were fixed on my right hand, which was gripping Durandal’s hilt, halfway drawn.
…What’s this, why is my hand here?
I looked down at the gleaming silver blade and let out a dumbfounded laugh.
Lately, with all the threats and battles, my body must’ve automatically gone into combat mode the moment I threatened him.
Like Pavlov’s dog drooling at the sound of a bell.
“…Go on.”
I sheathed Durandal and said. Damien sat back down by the campfire and answered.
“Listen. Hatred is the feeling of wanting to kill your enemy, right? But I don’t consider you my enemy, Ha-shal-leur. Besides, I do feel like swinging my sword… but I don’t want you dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
You want to swing your sword but don’t want to kill? What kind of feeling is that? Like a sniper who shoots gently?
“Just, you know… like holding the sword sideways and wanting to smack you with the flat…? Yeah, that’s the feeling.”
Damien hesitated as he answered.
Only after hearing that did I finally understand what confusion he was feeling.
“…Alright, now I get it.”
To summarize Damien’s nonsense, the feeling he had when looking at the World Tree and the feeling he had when looking at me were almost the same, just different in intensity.
He wants to kill the World Tree, but with me, he just wants to smack me. He doesn’t see me as an enemy.
Then it’s definitely not hostility or hatred.
“I was mistaken. What you felt wasn’t hostility or hatred.”
Hatred always comes with the intent to kill. If you only feel the urge to hit someone without the intent to kill, that emotion isn’t hatred—it’s anger.
“Anger?”
Damien tilted his head.
“Yeah. Anger. From wanting to tear someone to shreds to wanting to smack a bratty kid, the intensity varies depending on the target.”
I moved the cigarette in my hand to my mouth and continued explaining.
“In short, you were angry.”
“…I see. So this is anger…”
Damien nodded as if he understood.
“Thanks for explaining, Ha-shal-leur.”
His eyes, now looking at me, were filled with understanding.
“Don’t mention it.”
Of course, I had no intention of accepting Damien’s thanks, so I shrugged and stood up.
“…I’m not done yet.”
– Thud thud thud.
This guy thinks he can end it on a warm note.
“Huh, Ha-shal-leur…?”
Perhaps sensing the unease from the sound of my knuckles cracking, Damien flinched.
“You just said it, Damien. You felt something similar toward me. What was it… you wanted to smack me with the flat of your sword? So you were that pissed at me, huh?”
You ungrateful brat.
After all I’ve done for you, you dare harbor anger toward me?
Then I have no choice but to punish you.
“No, wait, that was, you know, metaphorical…”
“Good. Let’s blow off some steam today. No ranks, no feats, just bare fists.”
“Wait, wait, stop! Calm down!”
As I swung my right arm like a windmill and approached Damien, he backed away, desperately making excuses.
“Think about it. This isn’t the time for this, right? If we spar here, the cave might collapse, and we need to save our strength for tomorrow…”
“Wrong.”
I lightly flicked my knee and closed the distance to Damien’s face, grabbing his collar with a faint smell of sweat and smiling.
“You should’ve… apologized.”
Finally, it’s time to beat some sense into him, as Hersela excitedly extended the tentacles of the Life Force Technique, threateningly writhing.
“Sorry, I was wrong, just wait…!”
Damien, sweating cold sweat, finally apologized.
Lifted up and flailing, he looked like a bird caught in a trap, almost cute.
“That’s right, that’s how it should be.”
I chuckled at his ridiculous appearance, put him down, and lightly patted his shoulder.
– Thud! Whack!
Lightly.
“Ugh, ugh…! Ha-shal-leur. Wait, my shoulder…!”
Stop exaggerating. You’re wearing thick Beastman Hide, it shouldn’t hurt.
Damien started rubbing his shoulder the moment my hand left.
I leaned in so close that my nose almost touched his face and spoke in a low, serious tone to convey my sincerity.
“I’m working so hard to make you stronger, and instead of being grateful, you’re harboring anger. That’s not acceptable. You’re not that shameless, are you, Damien?”
“Uh, uh. Right. Th-thank you… Ha-shal-leur.”
Damien swallowed dryly and forced out his thanks.
“Good, that’s the right attitude.”
I smiled brightly and stepped back.
That’s right. A person should know how to show gratitude for what they’ve received. Especially since you’re not just an ordinary person, but the future hero. You can’t become an ungrateful piece of trash.
A hero like that would either get stabbed in the back by his comrades after fulfilling his role, or he’d stab his comrades in the back and fall to darkness. That’s the only future.
So, to prevent Damien from meeting such an end, I have to teach him the right attitude as a person, don’t I?
Damien’s mother in heaven would surely nod vigorously in agreement with my opinion.
