-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Saladin's Cry
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The group's journey proceeded very smoothly.
In fact, it was only natural.
There wasn't a single family in the Ikenia Kingdom's Banten territory that didn't know of Count Carviot's Shield Family.
As everyone imagined, no bandits showed up shouting, "Muahaha! Hand over everything you have, and we'll spare your lives!" or anything like that.
The bandits would take one look at the Shield Family crest and flee for their lives.
If anything, the only disruptions were the lords of the territories along the route fawning over Sir Beskin, the Shield Family's famed Ice Knight, begging them to stay just one night.
Of course, none of them asked me to stay on my account.
...Let's not dwell on the sadness.
In any case, on the surface, it was an incredibly easy trip.
'On the surface' being the key phrase.
'...Damn it. It really feels like traveling with a bunch of dolls.'
There was no other way to explain how humans could move for such an absurdly long time without uttering a single word.
But you couldn't exactly force conversation out of silent people.
They were busy with their own duties and showed no interest in chatting with me.
Thus, there wasn't much I could do.
Pondering how to butter up Marquis Midas might occupy a day or two, but it wasn't enough to fill the entire journey.
So throughout the trip, I had time to spare—way too much time.
"...Fine, whatever. I've got plenty of my own work to do anyway."
I stopped grumbling and slowly closed my eyes.
Suuuuh. Hoooo.
What I was currently practicing was my family's cultivation method. To be more precise, it was a method that had long fallen into disuse.
Earth.
Unlike Wood Spirit, which treats the body as a tree, Earth transforms the entire body into a vessel capable of containing the vast earth itself.
Even though it was a great cultivation method practiced by the Shield Family's founding ancestor, the reason it fell into obscurity was simple.
It simply didn't suit the temperament of the Shield Family members, except for the founder.
'I only realized that reason much later.'
Elemental theory.
The idea that every human has a cultivation style suited to their innate disposition, and that true peak efficiency comes only when mana is cultivated in harmony with one's temperament.
Initially dismissed as heresy, it became accepted doctrine after the Continental War.
Thanks to the Holy Empire, where knights' levels had abnormally standardized at an elite tier.
According to this theory, it was straightforward why Shield Family descendants meshed so well with Wood Spirit.
Every one of them burned as hot as fire.
For generations, the Shield Family had stood at the forefront, defending the kingdom from the Holy Empire and the beast forests.
Perhaps because of those fiery lives they led, Shield Family members were generally born with the temperament of flames.
As such, Wood Spirit—which shapes the mana conduits in the body like tree roots—was the perfect method, allowing them to wield their mana with maximum efficiency across generations.
But I was different. As my Heterogenous Power showed, I was an irregular with a divergent affinity.
'I can't even describe how much I regretted realizing that too late, but things are different now.'
Returning to the past brought more advantages than I could have imagined.
No need to tread the wrong path again.
In that sense, Earth was indeed the worst match for ordinary family members' fiery dispositions.
Flames nurturing earth? It backfired—the cultivation method ended up devouring the body's mana.
That was why so many talents had met pointless ends.
But with my steel-tempered disposition, it was a different story. Wood Spirit was actually suppressed by my physical attributes.
No wonder diligent practice of Wood Spirit yielded no growth.
For my body, infused with steel, Earth was the perfect partner. I also didn't neglect training in our family's signature close-quarters combat art, Pankration.
This, too, was a technique discarded by the family.
True to the Shield Family name, our style had centered on shields and one-handed swords.
With massive shields covering nearly the entire body, the role of bare-fisted brawling dwindled.
But for me, it was different.
No martial art meshed better with my power, steel.
Even in wartime, flowers bloom, as they say.
Despite the extremely uncomfortable atmosphere, I was catching up to my past self at a rapid pace.
Knock, knock.
As I immersed myself deeply in Earth, the inevitable knock came.
As always, it was Sir Ravins.
"Third Young Master, we're about to enter Mano territory in the kingdom's southern border region. We'll have to impose on the local lord for a few days."
Not seeking my input on the schedule—just a one-sided notification.
I still hadn't earned their recognition as someone worthy of deference.
'Well, can't be helped. I've got that image(?) I've built up over time.'
An image as a bug—powerful(!) in its own way—wasn't something that changed easily.
Still, change it bit by bit, slowly. No soup on this continent fills you up with the first spoonful.
"Got it. Better not push too hard and have someone fall ill, delaying us."
With my perfunctory approval, the knights issued orders to the attendants, picking up speed toward Mano territory.
Gazing at the silhouette of Mano territory in the distance, a faint, ticklish feeling stirred in my mind.
'Mano territory, Mano territory... Feels like I've heard it somewhere before.'
I racked my brain, but nothing came up.
Eh, probably not important. The mentally exhausting journey, thanks to me, left no room for further thought.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Welcome, Sir Beskin! It's an honor to meet you!"
"Thank you for your warm hospitality, Viscount Edwin."
"Hahaha! No need for formalities. Sir Beskin, the Ice Knight, is the top among the Shield Family's renowned Six Shields, acknowledged by all! Who else would I roll out the red carpet for if not such a distinguished guest? Ah, Third Young Master, you're welcome too. Come, come! Let's head inside."
After a token welcome for me, Viscount Edwin stuck to Beskin's side throughout the banquet hall, never shutting up.
Beskin responded politely and appropriately to the viscount's questions, but the man kept exclaiming "Oh!" and "Indeed!" as if everything was a marvel.
Good grief, it was embarrassing to watch.
From our travels together, I'd gauged that Beskin wasn't the type to enjoy overly talkative people.
And sure enough.
I didn't miss the slightest furrow in his otherwise expressionless brow.
'Tsk tsk, Viscount Edwin must have succeeded later on somehow.'
With that level of social blindness, where could he even be useful? It wasn't that he was scorning me with stingy treatment—no issue there.
Viscount Edwin would later lean toward the Sword Family among the southern nobles. No point wasting time on someone I'd never recruit.
Having decided not to care, I was about to spear a turkey wing when—
-...Come...
"...?"
I thought I heard a very, very faint voice.
Wondering if I'd misheard, I strained my ears again, but...
-...
Nothing more.
Hmm.
A hallucination, maybe.
The long journey must have worn my body down more than I thought.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The Dragon Mountains, located in the northern part of the Ikenia continent, were infamous not just for their altitude but for the ridiculous number of monsters inhabiting them.
However, most other mountain ranges, excluding the Dragon Mountains, had relatively few monsters. At best, some goblins or orc packs, with trolls or ogres appearing only rarely.
Because of this, most territories on the continent had little to no actual experience fighting monsters.
This posed no issue when monster populations were low.
But under certain circumstances, it could create massive problems.
Just as among humans, heroes exist among monsters.
What if such a hero grows unchecked and unites the packs of its kin?
What then?
Thud!
The thick, sturdy footstep echoed like a mountain crashing down.
Crunch!
The body and arms bulldozed through obstructing trees like boulders.
"Huff... huff..."
The ragged breaths alone commanded silence from the mountain's creatures, radiating dignity.
Its green skin signaled it wasn't human.
"Hiiiiss..."
Ignoring mountain paths, it rampaged freely, roughly digging up the earth in search of something.
Soon, its hands clutched beautiful flowers.
Different varieties, but all sharing one trait: pure white.
Munch, munch.
The creature crudely shoved the unearthed flowers into its mouth, devouring them voraciously.
How many did it eat?
Eventually, no more white flowers remained on the ground.
"HIIIISSS...!!"
Dissatisfied, it bellowed coarsely and resumed rampaging through the mountains.
In search of more white flowers to cram in.
Instinct told it warmer regions had more.
Thus, its direction:
Toward the continent's south.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Ugh, slept like a rock."
Stretching languidly on the bed, my loosened muscles screamed in bliss from the past few days.
Before arriving in Mano territory, the multi-day camping plus Earth and Pankration training had left my body aching terribly.
Of course, since it was a path I'd walked before, my body was growing rapidly.
'But that doesn't turn a pumpkin into a watermelon overnight.'
Still, this body of mine—never having endured hardship—complained of muscle pain after just a few days of camping and training.
"Sigh. Can't be helped. Steel, Earth, Pankration—all taking root faster than in my past life. Ow, this is my original sin, my original sin."
Who else to blame?
Marveling anew at my pathetic constitution, I calmly changed into fresh clothes.
Tomorrow, we'd wrap up in Mano territory and head to the Philador Kingdom.
Though not for my sake, Viscount Edwin's hospitality had provided comfortable days—undeniable.
Naturally, I should dress properly, thank him in advance today, and depart properly.
"Alright, then..."
As I moved to call the attendant outside and signal readiness—
-Help me!!!!!!!!!
The voice flooding my ears made me shudder involuntarily, goosebumps rising.
The raw desperation and plea in it hit too viscerally.
Moreover, for some reason, the voice felt familiar.
Like I'd heard it somewhere...
'Ah.'
A few days ago, the faint sound I'd dismissed as a mistake. It matched exactly.
'But more than that, it feels like... from much, much earlier...'
Ah, I remembered.
And the moment I did, I muttered without thinking.
"...Saladin?"
The voice of Saladin—fellow Black Lion, from the same region, vice-captain of the Stigma Mercenary Corps. The puppeteer Saladin.