Chapter 36 _ The Echo of Lycoris, or the Art of Keeping the Enemy at Bay
Morning light filtered into the God Wolf’s den—
sharper and purer than the sunlight that reached the city.
As I slowly opened my eyes, still half-asleep,
two golden pupils hovered just a few inches from my nose.
Frey, in her cat form, was staring at my face with intense curiosity.
“—Wah! Wh-what is it…?
Morning, Frey.”
“…Mario,” she said gravely.
“I must ask you something.
Is it true that an innocent man always chooses Takina over Chisato…
or is it the other way around?”
“…………Huh?”
My sleep-addled brain froze completely.
“W–wait. What are you talking about?
Why do you even know those names?”
“You were muttering them in your sleep, writhing as if cursed.
Even my clairvoyance could not decipher them—
they sounded like incantations from another world.”
“…Ah. That’s just sleep talk.
Probably an anime from my old world—
stories told through moving pictures.
Those were the names of the heroines.”
“I see… so these two maidens were rivals
for the position of ‘heroine,’ then?”
I scratched my head, dredging up memories of an old hobby.
“Chisato was a cheerful blonde with a short bob—
the energetic type.
Takina had long black hair and a calmer vibe.
Both were insanely popular.”
“Hmm. At last, everything is clear.”
Frey smirked and pointed a tiny paw at me triumphantly.
“…What is?”
“You lose your innocence and suddenly, even in your dreams,
you start looking down on other innocent men.
This is the vulgar arrogance of the newly enlightened—
the nouveau pure-no-longer, if you will!”
“That was just a dream!
I don’t think like that in real life!”
“False! The subconscious reveals all!
Deep within your heart swirls a twisted sense of superiority—
‘I am no longer like them!’
Foolish man!”
“…Why am I being scolded?”
Beside me, Iris stirred and rubbed her eyes.
“…What’s going on?”
“…Ah, Iris. Good morning.
This is just—uh—”
“Iris,” Frey said solemnly.
“I advise caution. This man—oh?”
She grinned like a hunter spotting prey.
“So the blonde, composed Iris was exactly his type
back when he was innocent, hmm? Mario?”
“Enough already!”
“What are you two talking about?” Iris asked, tilting her head.
“He was talking in his sleep,” I explained quickly.
“The moment he loses his innocence, he begins mocking the innocent,”
Frey declared.
“As your master, I must warn you—ditch this man.”
“…I’m really sorry.
I’m still an immature human being.
I’ll go train.”
I raised both hands in surrender.
Frey puffed out her chest, clearly satisfied.
“Good! That should have been your answer from the start.
Now get up, lazy one—oh? Mother.”
The God Wolf approached silently, her massive form radiating calm.
“She seems lively,” she said.
“But Frey’s mana core is still cold.
Let her rest here for another five days.”
“…Understood,” I replied.
“We’re not in a hurry. Please let her recover properly.”
Then I voiced something I’d been thinking about.
“Roger… I have a request.
Could you teach me how to use a short sword?”
“A short sword?” Roger frowned.
“Why? You have a crossbow.”
“Frey said we’re weak in close combat.
On the road ahead, ambushes are inevitable.
If I can buy even a few seconds
until you or Iris can act, then I—”
A faint spark of interest lit Roger’s eyes.
“…I see. You chose a short sword over a long one.
Not a bad instinct.
If your goal is to harass and delay,
a blade you can maneuver easily in tight spaces is best.”
Roger stood, picked up two suitable branches from the ground,
and tossed one to Hans.
“Hans. You handle this.
My sword is meant to kill.
It’s not suited for weaklings like him.
You’re good with daggers and short swords—
teach him how to keep enemies in check.”
“Oh honestly, Fred,” Hans sighed,
twirling the branch deftly between her fingers.
“You always dump the tedious jobs on me.”
“But fine. Mario, listen carefully.
Enemies aren’t idiots.
They’ll always try to circle around
and take out the mage first.”
“So let’s see how well you can protect me.”
“Please—teach me as well!” Iris said earnestly.
“Ohoho! A fine attitude,” Frey laughed.
“Hans, you may now call me ‘Frey-chan.’
Roger, you may continue calling me by name.
I shall graciously allow informal speech.”
“…Got it,” Roger replied with a wry smile,
beginning to clear the remains of the campfire.
“Roger…
when you said ‘a sword meant to kill’ earlier—
is that really so difficult?”
“A sword,” he answered,
“is distance and speed. Nothing more.”
In an instant, the air around him sharpened like drawn steel.
“Step into your opponent’s reach,
and strike a split second before they do.
Do that, and you’ll never lose.”
“But that distance also exposes your own life
to the enemy’s blade.”
“…Can you kill that fear?
Life exists within death.”
“…‘Life within death,’ huh,” I murmured.
“So simple… and so impossibly hard.”
“Hm. How do you know that phrase?” Roger asked, surprised.
“It’s written only in the deepest sword manuals.”
“…Stories from my old world use it a lot.
Guess the essence is the same everywhere.”
At the God Wolf’s den,
we spent five days training.
The crackle of burning logs.
The whistle of wooden blades cutting the air.
While waiting for Frey to recover,
we began sharpening a new kind of weapon—
preparing ourselves for the journey to the royal capital.
