43 Toroa the Awful - 1

Toroa the Awful was dead.

For that matter, was there anyone who had actually seen him alive to begin with? Nevertheless, unlike Lucunoca the Winter, there was no one who questioned whether he actually existed or not.

That enchanted swordsman existed.

Making his home somewhere among the vast Wyte Mountains, he waited for the time to pass down judgment on others for their crimes.

The crime of possessing an enchanted sword.

When he had been alive, enchanted swords, along with their mighty power, attracted a fatal destiny to whoever held them.

"But listen, you dogs! Now's different!"

Erijite the Ochre Haze looked down at the forty subordinates he had assembled in the mountains. He was the bandit who had negotiated with the Gray-Haired Child at the Sikma Spinning Ward riverbed.

His band of thieves was in no way small, but naturally, the quality of his men was not enough to face off against an organized suppression squad or the soldiers of a self-proclaimed demon king. Therefore, they were likely never to be visited by this sort of opportunity again.

"Toroa the Awful's hundred enchanted swords—all of 'em are ours now!

The keeper of the enchanted swords ain't around anymore!"

Those with enchanted swords would die. A death god would always appear before them as soon as their location was discovered.

The only thing left behind would be the sea of blood of the former owner and any witnesses, with the traces of a horrific and terrifying slaughter carved into the area, the enchanted sword vanished.

Toroa the Awful didn't care about whether the enchanted sword user was good or evil, a saint or a devil. He simply killed them.

No one had beaten him. No one had seen him. It was only the clear tragedy left behind that proved his existence.

This was an absolute and unquestionably proven rule that had continued on from before the appearance of the True Demon King.

"Chief! Did Toroa really bite the dust?! Sure, I get he was up against Alus the Star Runner, but we're talking Toroa the Awful here… He's the enchanted-swordsman slayer!"

"That's right, Euge. Right now, that's what everyone in the world is thinking. You, as well as all the bandits besides all of us! While everyone's thinking like that, what d'ya think'll happen? Who's gonna beat everyone to the punch? Go ahead, tell me."

"…I want an enchanted sword. Still, though, if owning one's gonna cost me my life, then—"

Euge's head was split open with a bullet. The speed of Erijite's quick-shot was faster than the naked eye could follow.

Smoke rose from the barrel of his new model of small firearm as he put it away in his inside pocket. He had bought the weapon from the Gray-Haired Child. This job was going to be a race against time. Though it was unfortunate, as Euge had been a precious underling, able to express himself well.

"All right then, anyone else got any complaints?"

Now was precisely the time to get their hands on the power of the enchanted swords.

His subordinates likely only thought of them as treasure they could sell for a high price. However, a bandit group where each and every one of their forty-strong band wielded an enchanted sword, that would have power rivaling an individual army.

Then, as long as they had that degree of power, they could market that strength and sell it.

The approaching age was not an age of bandits. Erijite's very first aim was the camp of General Gilnes of Togie City—the Old Kingdoms' loyalists widely summoning those to join their cause.

We were able to survive this long because we're in the gap between the era of the True Demon King and the next. If the kingdoms are united once and for all, there ain't no future for guys like us.

He felt the small firearm in his pocket. Improvements to the musket

continued to advance further along. The victims of their raids would start carrying these sorts of weapons with them wherever they went. Bandits would grow even easier to stamp out and put down.

…Going through the pains to create an intermediary was in anticipation of that future. Working with the Gray-Haired Child, we'll join under Gilnes the Ruined Castle. Even if the Old Kingdoms happen to lose, so long as we can showcase the power of the enchanted swords during the fighting, we'll be able to negotiate with Aureatia.

The odds were heavily in their favor. Now that Toroa was dead, the enchanted swords were no longer symbols of ill omen.

Although there was an absolute difference in fighting power, these enchanted swords were categorically similar to the small firearm he now carried. As guns fell out of popularity along with the new age of peace, if anything, there would be higher demand for enchanted swords, especially among small bands of soldiers. These were the thoughts flowing through Erijite's mind.

His subordinates were abuzz with the shot, and the brief confusion and uproar slowly began to settle down.

There were others with similar claims as Euge, but he ignored them and left their arguments to be wrapped up among the rest of the band. Given that they had seen Euge's death right before their very eyes, this wasn't true whole-hearted rebellion.

"…Listen up. Why do you think some stingy mountain bandits like us are able to scavenge through the Toroa's left-behind property? Because I'm strong? Because we got good heads on our shoulders? Or maybe you're thinkin' it's because we've got the advantage of numbers?"

This would be the last time he spoke. He just needed to boost their resolve.

"That ain't it, right? It's just because we're nearby. Because we've set up our territory in Wyte, and we know these mountains better than anybody. Those other guy don't even know whether Toroa is in this stretch of mountains or not. We'll get there first. We absolutely will."

"Let's do this…! Treasure waiting to get plucked up! We can do it!" "Who the hell cares about some damn enchanted sword curse…?! We're

right behind you, Chief!"

"Now that's more like it! The era of legends and superstitions is over!

Toroa the Awful being dead proves it! All right, lads, let's go!"

A disaster on par with a dragon. Lying in wait in the uninhabited reaches, he'd set upon villages, stockpiling his hoard.

The only difference was his hoard was entirely composed of enchanted swords. Thus, Alus the Star Runner attacked him. After stealing the absolute strongest among them all, the Star Runner flew away.

Legends were not invincible. Even Toroa the Awful could die.

Far removed from Wyte, on the outskirts of Aureatia, there stood a spire.

Within a tract of land where city redevelopment operations continued forward to match growing population density, a single belfry, under the authority of the Twenty-Nine Officials, was left behind without being torn down. The floors inside the tower were carved out, creating a large open space. All that remained of the original interior design was the stairs running along the walls.

The cold and closed-off air felt almost like a high-ceilinged prison, but the person dwelling inside was the most unsuited creature in all the land to be called a "prisoner."

"......"

"Gotten used to it a bit now?" " "

The Twentieth Minster of Aureatia, Hido the Clamp, had made the remark without any expectations of getting an answer.

His companion's silence was long, but they didn't seem to be unsatisfied with their dwelling.

Even this unique reconstruction had been carried out according to the wishes of the wyvern perched high up above him—Alus the Star Runner.

His pace was always one beat behind everyone else's. He began in a quiet voice.

"...Hido." "Yeah, what is it?"

"Is Harghent…coming…? I want to fight him… When will he be here…?"

"Ah, right… I'm not sure, with that old man… Pfft! He's ditched his work and now he's fooling around in the north. Though, he'll probably come back around the time of the next assembly. I have absolutely no idea what sort of hero candidate he's gonna show up with, though."

"...Okay. Then...forget it."

Sitting down on the bottommost stair, Hido took his slightly late lunch.

High-quality white bread. Though he was impertinent, bubbling with arrogance, meals were the only time he enjoyed a quiet atmosphere. He and Alus were in agreement on this point.

"…Still, though, Alus. You know…ultimately, no matter who shows up, you don't really think you'll lose, do you? You've won every battle you've been in up till now. Even against Vikeon the Smoldering. You think old man Harghent…is really going to be able to bring back someone capable of fighting you?"

"......... Are you making fun of Harghent?"

"Huh? Of course I'm not; come on now. I'm just asking if you've even had a tough battle before at all."

Hido immediately picked up on the mood in the tower and decided to steer the topic elsewhere.

The outline of Alus's wings was high above his head, but if he felt like it, Alus could kill him in innumerably different ways faster than Hidow could take the next bite of his lunch.

"...There was...someone strong."

"Really now? Was it Vikeon the Smoldering after all?"

"...…What are you talking about…? That guy...…he was just old, not strong at all... Toroa...he was so much stronger than any dragon..."

"Oh, you mean Toroa the Awful? So that rumor everyone tells was true, huh? Everyone'd love to hear about that, let me tell you."

"...Look here."

The wyvern carefully descended to around the middle of the tower and showed off the sword he had produced from his satchel. With its darkened brown scabbard and similarly dingy wooden hilt, it looked like an antique.

"...This is Hillensingen the Luminous Blade. It was Toroa's...most

powerful weapon, so...I wanted it."

"This is the one that ended Vikeon, right? Did Toroa really stockpile all those enchanted swords?"

"...Yeah. But… I didn't really care about the others...and I can't fly if my bag's too heavy.…"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Aww, that's a damn shame!" It was no laughing matter.

Enchanted swords were treasures, with a single one carrying as much value as a whole town. Aberrant entities, impossible to analyze. With their inanimate silence, even the true origins of these enchanted swords were unclear.

However, they were said to be, similar to visitors, implements that were deviant in nature.

These implements, acquiring unfathomable mysteries that were unable to be fully contained within the physical laws of a world separate from theirs, the Beyond, were exiled to this world.

It wasn't limited to just swords, with various shapes of magic tools appearing in their world much the same way. Just as varied as the armaments in Alus the Star Runner's own collection.

…Nevertheless, enchanted swords were ultimately a special case when it came to their symbolic significance.

Symbols of armed might from long, long ago, existing in the realm of the supernatural. Many fought over enchanted swords, and by gathering under their power to fight, many self-proclaimed demon kings were created, and just as quickly erased.

Toroa the Awful might have been fixated on the enchanted swords for such a reason.

"What was Toroa the Awful like?"

"...Yeah. His techniques...were incredible. A bunch of them...all impossible without an enchanted sword. Against him...it didn't matter if I was flying in the air. The direction, too... All the enchanted swords moved like they were alive themselves.…"

"..."

"If I had been...just a fraction…of a millisecond slower, I might have died… Probably…"

Much like a majority of the children in this world, Hido had been told

scary stories about Toroa the Awful from a young age. They said just being near someone wielding an enchanted sword, let alone brandishing one yourself, would bring the calamity called Toroa to your doorstep.

That was why no one was supposed to possess an enchanted sword. They invited death.

That legendary being was ultimately the one who had terrified a butcher of dragons like Alus the most of all.

In the Wyte Mountains, the legend had actually existed.

…It's a pity, really. No one can keep on winning forever. At some point, the legend will end.

Alus, with his wings, continued his journey of usurping, guided by his appetite. Many of those who made history or those who left their names behind wasted away, things to be protected exposed, and the world had changed completely from the time before the True Demon King.

Alus was nothing but a singular wyvern pioneer, subverting and exposing all the mysteries of the world.

"How did you kill Toroa?"

"…A single shot...…to his heart. I fired as he got close, and it hit... but I thought he'd move again...…so when I passed by him, I stole this..."

The rogue vacantly stared at the Luminous Blade, still stored within its sheath.

"I grabbed it and slashed him. He was diagonally...cut in two…" "Whoa, whoa, hold on now… The hell sort of supernatural feat is that?"

Instantaneously swapping from gun to sword, all while maintaining absolute top speeds. All with the dexterity to plunder the opponent's own weapon, too.

It was a level of skill that defied all expectations, demanding wonder and admiration. Yet, for Alus the Star Runner to be driven to the brink, just how terrifying a monster was Toroa the Awful?

"......"

"Alus. You want tougher opponents?" "...Not really."

"Then, what is it you want?"

Remaining on the stairs circulating the wall, the wyvern turned his thin neck.

He squinted up at the light that shined in from the window at the top of the spire.

"A country."

Alus the Star Runner. His appetite knew no limits.

That was precisely why Hido the Clamp, Aureatia's Twentieth Minister, stood as his backer.

He couldn't let this champion win.

"…Relax. There are some guys who arrived before us. Ones who didn't hesitate while Euge was whining like a baby."

As he carefully moved in the shadow of the trees, Erijite loaded his small firearm with bullets.

…The four people he had directed to search on the mountain's western side hadn't returned. Maybe they were discovered and killed by other thieves after the enchanted swords. Their groups' movements had been one step too slow after all.

Given that the scouts sent to other conspicuous spots hadn't discovered any enchanted swords, the only possible location of Toroa the Awful's base was the western side, where the four others had disappeared.

"But we've got the positional advantage. If those other guys have taken the enchanted swords first, we just gotta trap 'em and kill 'em. Not gonna give 'em any time to swing those things. Simple as that."

"Y-yeah, that's right, Chief!"

"We've figured out the location! Let's snuff them out fast!"

They were a simple lot. In the beginning, Erijite had whipped them into action by claiming they'd gain invincible power so long as they got their hands on the enchanted swords.

None of them realized that the words he used now to urge them on were contradictory to his initial claims before them. Though, conversely, some of them may have been pretending not to know instead.

Erijite's thinking was that he could tolerate sacrificing no more than half his men. Even if he expended twenty men in the enchanted sword robbery, he

would still be left with a force twenty strong, and more than enough enchanted swords for them all to wield.

With the strength that ascended him to the commanding seat among the mountain brigands, he calculated out the past decisions and possibly futures ahead them, balancing all their advantages and disadvantages.

"Wh-whoa, chief!" "What's wrong?"

"…One of them's come back! It's him, uh, what was his name again?" "Eveedo?"

From far off, the thin man walked unsteadily down the mountain path toward them. His wide-open item satchel swayed back and forth, its contents spilling out on the ground with each step.

His gaze was vacant and hollow. Even when the chief Erijite stood right in front him, his focus was blank and far-off.

"…Hey, Eveedo. You've got something to tell me, right?" "..."

"So that's how it is, huh? You making a fool outta me?"

When he thrust the barrel of his small firearm at him, it happened. There came a damp, splattering sound.

Eveedo's right shoulder down to his left flank slid diagonally off his body and hit the ground. Continuing with his waist. The base of his left leg. Horizontally across his head, through both eyes. Erijite hadn't even touched him, yet Eveedo had been reduced to a pile of viscera.

He had already been cut down. Just how was he walking with all his flesh still connected?

It was impossible. A power inconceivable to their world. "...Wh-what…"

"It's an enchanted sword! We knew all about this already! Some other bandits are using the damn things! We figured that would happen, nothing to be surprised about! The guys headed to the western side are dead! That's all!"

"Y-yeah, but…look at how he died, Chief…!" This was a bad sign, Erijite thought.

The way he handled things with Euge wasn't a method he could keep relying on. What should he do to keep this wave of fear in check? It was time to try and think things over.

"Huh?"

Right before Erijite's eyes, the man standing directly to his right let out a wild shriek.

On his chest was a small red stain, like he had been stabbed with a needle.

Bit by bit, it slowly started to expand outward. "Wha-what?!"

The man, still screaming in bewilderment, collapsed. "Damn…!"

Erijite ground his teeth. It was an attack. Eveedo must have been the bait.

Someone had watched them being taken in by the living corpse. From where?

"Chief! This has to be—aaauugh!"

A shadow passed behind one of their compatriots, trying to rush over to them from afar, and then they burst into flames.

Blinding and enormous flames surrounded the periphery, as if the man's very body had been converted into an explosive. The mere aftermath of the flames killed another two of his men with it.

The shadow moving on the other end of the conflagration belonged to a single person. It was bent forward, almost like a wild beast.

On this mysterious person's back sat an innumerable number of… "…What the hell?! Just who are you, dammit?!"

Erijite aimed his barrel toward the shadow.

The mysterious person's form wasn't clear, shimmering in the haze of the explosion's heat. It was large, with thick arms and legs.

An ogre? Or maybe a dwarf?

"Nel Tseu the Burning Blade."

The figure murmured with the deep voice of a death god.

They slowly advanced forward, one step at a time. Erijite's gun barrel was shaking—and the heat haze that prevented him from aiming steady wasn't the only reason why.

The next sound rang with a thud.

The second-in-command standing next to Erijite was pierced through the eyes with the same needle-sized stain as before and collapsed to the ground.

"Divine Blade Ketelk."

The shade passed by another bandit, who walked around aimless and

unsteady before slumping down to the ground.

Their four limbs, torn apart just like Eveedo's… "Gidymel the Minute Hand."

The crunching sound of heavy footsteps continued to close in.

A large number of enchanted swords. A man shouldering a myriad of cursed enchanted swords on his back.

He was a bandit. Just a thief. He was after the enchanted sword riches just like them.

Erijite just got there too late. A simple bit of bad luck.

There was no possible way Toroa the Awful would be still alive.