The war between the Machine Empire and the Iron Kingdom had finally come to an end.
The long-standing relationship between the two nations was severed forever. The Machine Empire, Laprien, now fell under the occupation of the Iron Kingdom. By winning two consecutive wars of conquest, the Iron Kingdom had reaped a massive harvest. It now held the six Free Cities and their abundant resources under its wing, along with the Machine Empire, which possessed some of the finest magitech on the continent.
It was the most brilliant achievement since the founding of the Iron Kingdom Chervil. The newly crowned monarch, Ian Chervil, firmly engraved his name across the continent. Now, everyone had to admit the truth: the Iron Kingdom Chervil had joined the ranks of the great powers.
The Iron Kingdom was now the undisputed hegemon of the Western Continent. By occupying Laprien’s territory, it could now exert direct influence over the Central Continent as well. While the monarch—who had ascended the throne wearing a crown stained with his father’s blood—spread his fame, the dark aura of war began to envelop the rest of the world.
The Iron Kingdom had achieved exponential growth through a mere two wars. To the nations that had opened trade routes and conducted business under the established order of the Sky Empire, the Iron Kingdom became an object of envy. How could a barbaric nation that ignored convention and did nothing but wage war grow so large? Gradually, the word “war” began to take root in the minds of many monarchs.
At the same time, everyone remembered a fact they had long forgotten.
War is the ultimate business.
The Iron Kingdom Chervil reminded the continent of a truth buried since the Age of War. Those who saw the Iron Kingdom claiming its sweet fruit refused to look at the shadows it cast. The monarchs saw only what was gained. Such is the nature of humans. Among the seven races, humans possess the strongest desires, and they are creatures destined to repeat the same mistakes in pursuit of them.
Humans recalled the claims of the monarchs from the Age of War.
Conquest, achievement, victory.
No one thought of defeat; no one remembered the horrors of the battlefield; no one looked at the atrocities recorded in history. If humans were truly wise, the Age of War would never have existed in the first place. History, by its nature, is bound to repeat itself like a treadmill.
Seeing the sweet fruit swallowed by the Iron Kingdom, blood began to spill across the continent. Empires occupied kingdoms, city-states clashed with city-states, and within nations, nobles waged territorial wars for greater glory. Bards sang of the light gained by victorious monarchs rather than the unjust deaths of the fallen. Nations promoted heroes buried in women and gold coins rather than the soldiers who died in the dirt.
In the midst of this chaos, the Sky Empire remained silent.
Instead of going against the tide, they sold off the weapons and food they had stockpiled, enjoying the business of war without shedding a single drop of blood.
Swords, spears, and shields.
The age of flames and death had returned.
While the world sang heroic tales, young men, blinded by glittering promises, threw themselves into the army. Countless people met unjust deaths. Those who barely survived held onto the youth, pleading with them about the horrors of war, but no one listened. Those seized by hot-blooded passion merely mocked them as losers and failures.
Countless sons, husbands, and fathers were dying.
Nevertheless, everyone dove into the tide of war, drunk on the songs of the heroes who survived.
The place where the largest flames burned was the Southern Continent. The paradise once called the sacred land turned into a sea of fire less than three days after the conquest army of the Great Land made landfall. The demons running across the plains ruthlessly trampled and destroyed the flowers in the greenhouse. No army could stop the conquest army of the Great Land, which had been bolstered by the remnants of the fallen Machine Empire.
The Sky Empire remained strangely quiet.
The great empire that should have protected the order of the continent sat still and merely observed. It was as if it were not yet their time to step in. Eventually, the Southern Continent fell into the hands of the most cruel army on earth—the force that had unified the Eastern Continent. The Holy Empire burned and vanished, and Butcher, the Great Warrior of the Sun and the greatest of all Great Warriors, went missing. In the once peaceful land, barbaric flags skewered with the heads of countless people were raised.
While the Great Land trampled the Southern Continent, the descendant of Khan was on the verge of becoming a legendary hero who had unified two continents. Their actions further ignited the sparks in the hearts of other monarchs. Various kingdoms and empires occupied city-states near their borders and planted their flags. If there was a nation or power smaller than themselves, they declared war without hesitation. Still, the Sky Empire did not intervene. While the guardian of order remained silent, everyone took it as a silent consensus.
The sparks of war were growing into an inferno.
As the whirlwind that started in the Iron Kingdom swept across the continent, the other six races also felt the ominous shift in the atmosphere. No living creature on the continent can go against the general trend. Everyone was preparing for the new era in their own way.
And.
“…Ah.”
In a world in upheaval.
Instead of being swept away by the continent’s whirlwind.
There was a man drifting on the vast sea.
To be precise…
“Have a sip of water, Young Master.”
There were a young man and an old man.
* * *
Zeppelin Gold’s sailboat was a sorry sight.
His claim that it was a boat prepared for a hobby was the truth, not modesty. I had expected more from Zeppelin’s “sailboat,” considering the effort he put into even a temporary villa. Since he was the young master of a wealthy family, I thought the vessel would at least have some decent form.
“We’ll die if it even rains.”
But there was no such thing as form. The sailboat we found at the port was literally just a sailboat. It seemed to be equipped with a magical tool so we didn’t have to row manually, but that was its only advantage. It had a shabby appearance that looked like it would capsize the moment it met a large wave, and a crude construction that wobbled just from Tom and me boarding it. It was a truly precarious craft.
“Still, didn’t we make it out safely?”
Tom smiled positively, even in this situation.
The food provided on the boat was quite plentiful, and Tom said he was glad above all that there was plenty of drinking water. It was a fact I hadn’t known, but apparently, the salty seawater of the ocean is undrinkable. Tom said that the more you drink seawater, the thirstier you get, so you must never touch it. It was a strange thing—that in a sea so overflowing with water, the most precious thing was water itself.
“When I came to the Southern Continent, I came on a very large vessel,” I grumbled, looking at the sun beyond the horizon.
I should definitely ask Zeppelin later why he kept such a dilapidated boat. Being a man of the Black Archipelago, did he have a peculiar hobby regarding “boats”? I heard that the more deeply someone is into a hobby, the more they obsess over old and worn things rather than expensive and rare ones. Just like Caretaker Tom, who collects blades with a long history rather than the famous swords of the century.
“What does it matter what we ride?”
“You’re right.”
I grinned at the ever-positive Tom.
Tom handed me some dried jerky, sat down beside me to watch the sea, and spoke.
“This old man is just happy to sail the wide sea with a friend. It’s romantic to ride the waves on a worn-out sailboat with just the two of us—friends who communicate well.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It reminds me of the days when I was young and reckless, traveling the Iron Kingdom with a friend on a single pony. He was a fighter in the Arena just like me, but unlike me, who made quite a name for myself in my youth, he was a friend who always lost his duels and barely escaped with his life.”
It was quite lucky to be with Tom instead of drifting aimlessly on this vast sea alone. Tom talked without a moment’s rest, and it was truly a wonder that he still had things to say even after talking for so long. Listening to Tom’s trivial stories, I was able to endure the tedious scenery of the horizon. Sometimes, when Tom caught fish from the sea, we ate fresh sashimi. Watching Tom laugh loudly as he hauled in a big fish made me feel like I was truly on a trip. It had already been over three days since we left the Southern Continent, relying on this single sailboat.
He told me to follow the brightest shining star.
I was navigating according to Zeppelin’s advice, but his words were difficult to follow. There were countless stars in the night sky, and it was impossible to distinguish the brightest one among the thousands twinkling in the dark. Especially for a country bumpkin who had lived almost his entire life in the Caravan estate, which was no different from a mountain village.
At this rate, I don’t know when we’ll reach Ernest.
Zeppelin said that if I went to “Ernest,” I would be able to survive. But he didn’t give me an exact location. The sea between the Southern and Western Continents? How wide was the sea between two continents for him to say such a thing? All Zeppelin had told me was a phrase like a line from a poem: “Follow the brightest star.”
…There are too many things I don’t know.
On the first night of our drifting, I asked Tom why the Swordmaster Hugo Rhapsody had helped me. However, Tom said he didn’t know the reason. He said Hugo Rhapsody had suddenly come to the Caravan estate and brought “Tom”—the person who would be most helpful—to the Southern Continent. He said there was no explanation given. It was hard to accept, but I nodded at Tom’s next words.
Aren’t Swordmasters originally that kind of lot?
He was right.
Especially Hugo Rhapsody—he was exactly the kind of person who would do that. In the end, I was left in a situation where I knew nothing: why the Swordmaster helped me, why the Great Land landed on the Southern Continent to wage war, what would happen if I went to “Ernest,” what kind of place Ernest was, and when I would finally reach it.
It’s hard to stop the doubt.
In a situation with so many questions, my doubt only bloomed further. And that blooming doubt could not spare even my friend. While enjoying Tom’s stories, I was keeping an eye on this old caretaker. I hadn’t forgotten about the “purpose of the gods” I heard about on the Southern Continent. The seven chief gods and nine goddesses do not wish for the survival of Caravan. And those deities can exert influence over all living creatures in the middle world. Caretaker Tom, the manager of the Hall of Fame who had worked in the Arena for a long time, is a devout believer in the “Goddess Lefri,” one of the nine goddesses. Is Tom a person who can be trusted? I couldn’t be sure.
Only someone who has sworn an oath on the Land of Swords can be fully trusted. But it hasn’t been a month since I used it on Zeppelin.
Tom might have come to help me with pure intentions. However, I couldn’t rule out potential danger. If he had wanted to kill me, he could have done so at any time, but there might still be some hidden reason. My doubt is a kind of disease—a disease born from past trauma that I can’t shake off. Consequently, I haven’t been able to sleep peacefully for a single day since I started drifting with Tom. I always slept with my senses sharpened, ready to wake at the slightest stimulus.
I wasn’t lonely because I wasn’t drifting alone.
But I couldn’t be at ease because I wasn’t drifting alone.
Amidst the fatigue, another thought occurred to me.
Perhaps, as long as I don’t discard my doubt, I can never truly be friends with someone. Perhaps from the moment I became unable to shake off suspicion, I was destined to live alone. My master’s sword… just like the name of that blade, perhaps I too am walking the fate of The Maverick . Perhaps the inability to mingle with others is the very fate of the Steel flowing through this body.
Because the sea is infinite, it plants many thoughts in those floating upon it.
The old man and the sea.
With them by my side, the fifth day dawned.
And then.
“Young Master.”
An incident occurred that wiped away my useless thoughts.
“Get behind me.”
With Zeppelin’s help, I had escaped the Great Land. But being on the sea didn’t mean all crises had vanished. Caravan always has many enemies. And by inheriting my master’s sword, I had also inherited my master’s karma.
“Quickly.”
Liam had warned me.
He said that the beings lurking in the middle world would feel his soul. That the balance would be broken because of it, and the true powerhouses who had been crouching until now would reveal themselves. That beings with power I couldn’t even imagine would target me. That all who held a grudge against the Liam of the past would flock to me. That I would realize everything I had experienced so far was nothing more than child’s play.
[It found us sooner than I thought.]
I didn’t expect it to come so suddenly, just when I had barely escaped the crisis and was catching my breath. I narrowed my eyes as I heard Liam’s voice. Zeppelin’s sailboat—and the sea, which had been infinitely peaceful until yesterday—was now raging. On the stretching horizon, a massive shadow was visible beneath the churning water. A very, very massive shadow.
[It is one of the six Divine Beasts. The scholars of my era called it the Kraken.]
“Why did such a grand fellow appear here?”
[Because when I was alive, my hobby was hunting Divine Beasts. I sought them out and sliced them to death as soon as they were born. Those things are like the Proxy Warriors of the gods; if you kill them, the power is inherited by their descendants.]
“Why would you do such a thing…?”
[Everyone did back then.]
The shadow was approaching our sailboat.
Liam spoke of hunting Divine Beasts as if it were deer hunting. Perhaps to my great master, they were the same. But to me, they were clearly different. My instinct was screaming at me to run.
“How do I win?”
[The current you cannot win. Never on the sea.]
Dammit.
As my irritation soared, Liam slowly turned his head. His gaze moved from me to Tom. Liam looked at the old caretaker, and soon his eyes landed on the thin rapier hanging at the old man’s waist. An awl-like blade.
That is to say…
[…Unless you devour a new sword, that is.]
He was looking at Tom’s sword.
