Chapter 9: The Slums
Cedric Lowell ground his teeth.
‘That couldn't be… The psychological trauma that even I barely managed to survive….’
It was all over without even showing a thing.
All that remained was Roan, knocking on the armor with a hollow thunk-thunk as if asking whether it was done.
‘No painful memories? Can a person like that even exist? And if they do….’
Does that count as overcoming it?
‘Am I going to lose that armor?’
He clenched his jaw.
Until his teeth sank into the lower gum and blood came seeping out.
In fact, Roan hadn't taken the armor off.
"Hmph… So you like it? Well, I suppose you would, having seen what you saw. After all, I dragged this scrawny body of mine all the way up to that level."
Lowell said it with a swaggering air, and Roan answered him with a shake of his head.
"No. Even if I liked it, I wouldn't take it. It's your equipment."
But.
"Not yet. I still need to manage it so it behaves."
With those final words, the etiquette training in the forest resumed.
***
"Here, take this. Lowell."
Having finished both the etiquette training and the first aid, Roan held out the armor.
Somehow, it seemed more subdued than usual.
Both the armor and Lowell.
"But remember. You have to overcome this armor before you can overcome any monster."
Lowell silently picked it up.
As the cold, cooled armor enveloped his body, a quiet power he thought he'd lost came back to life.
And in that moment, a familiar whisper burrowed into his ear.
‘No one will remain by your side but me.’
‘You must be alone. That's the only way you'll survive.’
‘Everyone is hiding their true feelings. Someday, they'll use you and throw you away.’
Through the whispers, he could see Roan's outstretched hand.
"Come on, let's go together. Cedric Lowell. With you around, the destructive power at the front line will rise even further."
Lowell didn't take the outstretched hand. He merely stared at Roan.
In his mind, the battle against himself and the process of the armor forcing manners into him came back to him.
That toughness that seemed to transcend anything human.
‘If that bastard put his mind to it… he could take this armor back without much trouble.’
No—he definitely would.
Because the whispers told him so.
The light that had gone out in his eyes ignited once more.
And then.
―Crack!
His body shot out without warning.
He had driven his knee into the area around Roan's liver.
An unguarded strike to a vital point.
Even for someone like Roan, it was an attack that would make him flinch.
"What!? You crazy bastard! What do you think you're doing!"
Caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events, Jane leapt to her feet and began her Incantation.
But the target of those curses had already vanished far away.
The sound of clashing metal faded in an instant, and silence settled over the forest.
It had all happened in the blink of an eye.
Roan belatedly looked in the direction Lowell had disappeared.
"Dang. Lost him."
It wasn't particularly the voice of someone who regretted it.
Thanks to that, Jane's tension released at the same time.
"…Since when do you fail to predict something like this? I figured you knew everything."
"I don't know everything. So that's what it was like at the beginning, huh…."
Roan said it again, lost in recollection.
Lowell too had been one of the people who'd seen the Expedition recruitment and showed up.
Even when he'd just joined, there had been a solitary air to him—but he hadn't been quite so crooked back then.
His rough edges had been worn down quite a bit.
"It's fine, though. Because I have this."
Roan showed her something.
It was a wriggling piece of armor.
"That looks unsettling… What is it?"
"An armor fragment. With this, I'll be able to tell whether Lowell is in danger or not."
"…You're going to keep looking after someone who betrayed you and ran away?"
Jane asked him that with a look of disbelief.
"Why bother? You could just give up on him and find a different companion."
"No."
It was an immediate answer.
"This time, I want everyone to make it to the end in one piece."
This answer, too, was difficult to understand from the perspective of someone living in the present.
"Well… it'd be better if we all went together, but someone like Lowell might be better off set free."
A lone wolf from the very beginning.
Since he'd only opened his heart at the very end, maybe it was better to let him grow on his own for now.
"And actually, it's thanks to Lowell that I've figured out who to look for next."
"…Who?"
"I'll tell you once we get back to the village."
As much as she wanted to hear it right then, Jane also thought it was time to get out of the forest.
…It was dark, after all.
And so the 2 of them quickly came down from the forest and returned to the nearby village.
Roan settled into a corner of the inn and laid out information on the next person.
"I'm going to find a cleric."
Someone who borrows the power of the divine to heal wounds.
The moment she heard the name of the profession, Jane's brow scrunched up sharply.
"What? A cleric? You're going to bring one of those insufferable people on as a companion?"
It was understandable that she didn't like it.
Healing and piety—those kinds of things had originally been the exclusive domain of the nobility.
"I understand, of course. I learned that blood flows in you too. I know there will be times when you get hurt. Still, I'm not fond of that type. They charge money for a resource that regenerates on its own."
"You think the person I'm looking for is also a miser?"
"That's—"
Jane couldn't easily give an answer.
Herself and Cedric Lowell.
2 people who were clearly out of the ordinary at a glance.
This next person might be a similar type.
"Let me say this upfront—that cleric is a little different."
"Different how?"
"They use their power without holding back."
Saying that, Roan pulled out some newspapers.
From newspapers half a year old up to relatively recent ones.
Quite a wide range of them.
[Erian Belgard, bestowing blessings upon the slums….]
[The Order declares 'no involvement'….]
[Declares intent to travel through slums and care for the lower class.]
[Expelled from The Order.]
"…Expelled for helping the slums? Huh, so not everyone there is rotten to the core."
A hint of goodwill.
But Roan already knew.
That this mage, who had clashed more than anyone else with other companions, had a natural enemy—and it was that cleric.
"Well, fine. So? Where are we going?"
Instead of answering, he pointed to a recent newspaper.
[Erian Belgard, moving to the Grey River.]
***
"Ugh… I've really been through it all, haven't I. Now I have to deal with the stench of filthy water too?"
Jane pinched her nose shut and looked around.
"They called it the Grey River, but… this is just straight-up wastewater."
"You're right. It's a river in name only."
Roan swept his gaze over the murky scene.
The viscous current was a dull, muddy black—because it couldn't reflect light at all.
Through the gaps in the laboriously flowing water, black oil slicks and rotting foam were swept along together.
Children who could be glimpsed here and there were laughing as they scooped it up and carried it off to their shacks.
It looked less like a place where people lived and more like a leash that forcibly tethered those who had been cast away.
"Still… everyone seems bright."
True to Jane's words.
The faces of the people living here were bright.
People laughing and singing merrily beside a river that reeked of rot were a pleasure to the ears.
Starving children were actually dancing with joy, and an elderly man coughed up blood-tinged phlegm while still watching the dancing with delight.
And then, right in the middle of it all, someone appeared with a nagging voice.
"Wait, wait! I told you to stay still! How many times have I said to rest when you're tired! Elder, please come inside! What could possibly be so good that you're out here coughing up blood!"
The being who had brought light to this wretched scene. It was Erian Belgard.
"…Don't cry again."
Jane looked at Roan.
Given how things were going, it seemed like he'd burst into tears again this time too.
‘Hm? What's this. He's not crying this time?’
But there was no sign of him actually crying.
If anything, he looked more serious than he'd ever been.
"…Bright?"
The words Jane had just said.
He was asking them again.
As if needing to confirm it despite seeing it with his own eyes.
"You can see it too, can't you? They're all smiling."
"They shouldn't be bright."
What on earth did that mean?
Telling people who were smiling brightly that they shouldn't smile.
"This place shouldn't be bright yet."
Roan's eyes turned forward.
A flying insect landed on the river's surface, and a sticky bubble burst on the dirty water.
And yet even all of that seemed like a happy time for them.
"That's why! I told you to stay still! Please drink the water I brought, not that river water!"
Looking again after hearing Roan's words, things seemed a little different.
Children running and playing with their blessing left behind.
Elders trying to throw themselves into filthy water while ignoring the clean water.
Belgard, alone amidst all those people, moving busily.
She hadn't noticed at first, but looking at it now, it was a truly strange sight.
And there was 1 thing in particular that was adding to that strangeness.
‘Del Roan is being this serious?’
That was exactly it—Roan's gaze.
For this monster who seemed like he'd deal with anything with a "well, it could happen" attitude—to have this kind of reaction.
"Hey, Del Roan. What's wrong? What do you mean they shouldn't be bright?"
Unable to hold back her confusion and questions, Jane finally asked him.
That was the exact moment Roan was about to answer Jane's question.
―Splash!!
"Kyaaaah!!"
The sound of someone plunging into the thick, foul water.
A single scream.
The lively laughter that followed after it was, on the contrary, chilling.
Jane rubbed down her own arm at the sight of the slums gone mad.
"What the—someone jumped into that river—HEY!? DEL ROAN!!"
Then she immediately let out a sharp cry.
Before she knew it, Roan had launched himself from his spot and plunged into the river without a moment's hesitation.
A short while later, Roan surfaced, dragging someone who had sunk to the bottom of the wastewater.
It was the elder who had just been coughing up blood while smiling.
Blech. Hnngh.
Roan, who had barely managed to haul him out, started retching.
"Hey, hey…! Roan! Even so, this is way too much! What is it! Why!?"
Jane, not minding the filth that clung to her, patted his back.
Roan finally caught his breath and spoke to her.
"…It's different from what I remember."
The current had changed.
"An early destruction is coming."
A manufactured god approaches.
"I have to stop it."
A firm resolve unlike anything before was carved into his face.