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Maybe life is about walking through unbearable pain and unbearable sorrow while holding onto them.

You must hold onto them. Not throw them away or ignore them, but cherish them. Ricardt and Boribori held their pain and sorrow close to their hearts.

And, the greater that pain and sorrow, the more they would grow into stronger individuals.

But it takes time for such things to take root and stand tall within. Time to accept, that is.

Ricardt and Boribori buried Nameless beneath the temple. They did it to keep wild beasts from coming to devour the body. As for the group of five, whether they got eaten or not, it didn’t really matter.

However, the massive corpse of the man named Hanet was so enormous that as it decayed, it gave off a terrible stench. There was no need to endure that kind of suffering.

And as they stayed for a few more days in the ruined village, their food supplies began to dwindle. It was now time to leave.

On one sunny day, the sky was blue, and the white clouds were as pure and clean as cotton. The wind was a little chilly, but if you dressed warmly, it wasn’t cold enough to make you shiver.

On such a day, Boribori sat on the temple floor with his knees drawn together, like a baby beast that couldn’t leave its dead father’s side.

His expression didn’t seem sad or gloomy. He wasn’t dazed, nor did he seem lost in thought; he just sat there absentmindedly.

But then, someone tapped Boribori’s shoulder. When he turned around, he saw Ricardt, fully prepared to leave, with his sword slung over his shoulder, gesturing with his chin to go.

Without a word, Boribori slung his bag over his shoulder and quietly stood up.

When they stepped outside the temple, they were greeted by the sight of a damp, green field. It was a bit early, but white and yellow flowers had already begun to bloom.

A clear stream, born from melted snow, flowed nearby. Sunlight hit the water, breaking into glittering fragments as it flowed to lower ground.

Ricardt and Boribori, the two boys, walked along the stream.

“Hmm…”

A man with a neatly trimmed beard, which left quite the impression, was frowning as he carefully inspected a sword. His expression was one of deep seriousness.

The blade was about a meter long, with perfect balance. There wasn’t a single part of it that was worn or damaged.

It was very well-crafted, but that wasn’t the reason for the man’s frown.

It was the faint bluish sheen that appeared when he tilted the blade slightly. The glow was so subtle that it felt like he was looking at moonlight.

The man lifted his head and spoke. Two boys, clad in red and dark brown cloaks, were quietly staring at him.

“Where did you get this?”

“……”

The boys didn’t answer. Did I speak too softly? No, that couldn’t be it. Could they be mute?

The man shifted his gaze back to the sword. Then, the blond-haired boy abruptly snatched the sheath and held out his hand. It seemed like he was asking for the sword back.

With a hint of reluctance, the man handed over the sword, and the boy, with surprisingly deft movements, sheathed it.

Ssshhk. Tak.

Then, as the boys turned to leave the shop, the man called out.

“W-wait a moment.”

When the boys turned back, he asked them another question.

“How much are you expecting for it?”

“……”

Still, they said nothing. It seemed increasingly likely that they really couldn’t speak. Two armed boys, both mute—it was unusual.

But that wasn’t the most important issue at hand, so the weapons dealer hesitated for a moment. Should he offer them a low price, a fair one, or be honest?

The blond-haired boy stared at him, almost as if he could see through the man’s internal conflict and was patiently waiting to see where his conscience would land.

In the end, the dealer decided to go with his conscience, though it came with a deep sigh of regret.

“That sword, from what I can tell, is made with a metal called True Silver. Even a tiny amount mixed in makes it valuable. On top of that, there aren’t many blacksmiths in the entire Empire who can handle True Silver. Some say only Sword Masters use weapons made from it because it aligns so well with mana. What I’m saying is, I can’t afford to pay you what it’s really worth. If you want a proper price, you’ll need to take it to a big city and put it up for auction.”

The sword in Ricardt’s hand was none other than the one Steiner used. The photom sword was at Boribori’s waist.

Ricardt gave a slight smile at the weapon dealer’s honest words, placed a silver coin on the counter for the appraisal, and gave a small bow. Boribori followed his lead awkwardly, bowing his head in a clumsy mimicry.

Then they left the weapon shop. Steiner’s sword was securely strapped to Ricardt’s backpack.

Though it was the same type of longsword, it was smaller than Ricardt’s meteoric iron sword, so it was unlikely he’d ever use it. After all, a sword that feels right in your hand is the best weapon for you.

Ricardt and Boribori wandered around the city, buying the supplies they needed.

They bought staple crops like potatoes and sweet potatoes, various grains that could be ground, steamed, and dried into portable food, smoked ham, firewood, and other necessities.

During their shopping, however, the two didn’t say a word. If they needed to communicate, they simply tapped each other or gestured with their eyes or hands.

Perhaps it was because they had experienced too much sorrow after losing Nameless. But that wasn’t really it. It was more like they were mimicking Nameless.

It was both a form of mourning between the two boys and, in a way, a game. Like a silent bet where the first one to speak loses. Although they hadn’t explicitly agreed to such a game, it felt like that.

As a result, they often met each other’s eyes and ended up smiling for no particular reason. And in that silence, the boys learned the value of quietness. By being silent, they began to hear and see things they hadn’t noticed before.

And, well, not talking wasn’t uncomfortable. Surprisingly, they managed to communicate just fine, and if they ever encountered a fight, they didn’t avoid it; they just faced it head-on.

In this way, Ricardt and Boribori left the city and began walking southward along the road. They were heading toward the Academy.

Looking around at the scenery, it felt as if they were standing at the boundary between winter and spring. It was both the end of one season and the beginning of another. Ricardt didn’t particularly like winter, but thinking about Nameless made him feel differently.

A mix of lingering sadness and the joy of welcoming spring swirled together. It wasn’t confusion; rather, it felt like the blending of these emotions created a third, more mysterious feeling.

Come to think of it, in a way, this was an incident where two of the Empire’s Nine Swords died at once. And one of them was taken down by Ricardt himself.

This was an extraordinary feat, something beyond reason, yet Ricardt didn’t care much about it. Whether people knew about it or not didn’t matter to him.

Fame was just fame. It was weightless, like a feather without substance. Ricardt knew that, in time, it would scatter like sand in the wind.

There were many powerful people in the world, and someone else would surely rise to fill the void. And that person, too, would eventually fall to someone else. That was the fate of those who walked the path of the sword.

So, what was truly important? For Ricardt, a harmonious family had given him a sense of inner peace, and Nameless had instilled in him a belief in human will and an unyielding spirit.

That was what mattered. And Ricardt hadn’t lost sight of that crucial point.

He had long since mastered the art of wielding a sword. Now, it was time to seek something deeper and wider than mere fame.

Splash! Splash!

As Ricardt walked, lost in thought, he crossed a bridge and suddenly heard the sound of violent splashing.

He stopped and looked down under the bridge. Not far from there, a knight in armor was floundering in the water.

But on second thought, it didn’t seem like a knight. The figure was too small to be one. Moreover, they seemed to have lost their sword, as the scabbard at their waist was empty.

Secondly, it was impossible to actually drown there because the river wasn’t that deep.

In other words, someone in armor was thrashing around in the water all by themselves.

Ricardt and Boribori stood still, watching the scene curiously, wondering what the person was doing. After a moment, they realized that the person might actually need some help, so they walked down from the bridge.

As they approached the armored individual, they noticed that the so-called ‘great helm’, a helmet commonly referred to as a ‘tin can’, had rotated sideways, blocking the person’s field of vision.

As Ricardt and Boribori were descending the bridge, they noticed that the armored figure had managed to get back onto land, wobbling but somehow regaining balance. They decided to simply watch.

But then, the person flailed wildly again and fell backward onto the gravel, landing on their butt. After sitting there for a moment, they awkwardly twisted their helmet back into place and took a moment to catch their breath.

When the figure finally noticed the two boys staring down at them, they were startled and shifted their weight, trying to move away.

“Eek!”

And then they dragged themselves along the ground, moving away.

“D-don’t come any closer!”

It was obvious to anyone listening that the voice was a girl trying to imitate the deep tone of a grown man. The two boys had no intention of getting closer in the first place, so they just stood there, watching.

“Hmph.”

Boribori, puzzled by what he was seeing, let out a small sound. Ricardt immediately pointed at him and said,

“Ah! You lost.”

“I lost? How?”

“You just said ‘hmph’.”

“That’s not talking.”

“Doesn’t matter, you still lost.”

“Dad used to say ‘hmph’ all the time.”

“Did he? Well, anyway, Boribori, you lost.”

“…What happens if I lose?”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

The armored girl, still sitting on the ground and unable to get up, blinked in confusion as she listened to their strange conversation, completely lost for words.

It was clear they didn’t understand each other. They had no idea why the girl was floundering by the water in armor, and she had now idea why the two boys were engrossed in a nonsensical debate over who had ‘lost’ in some silent game.

Still, from the girl’s perspective, the two boys looked somewhat peculiar. They were better armed than she had expected and much too clean to be thieves or bandits.

There were plenty of children who turned to banditry from a young age, but those bandits usually lived hidden away in the mountains or forests, which meant they rarely bathed and were filthy.

Ricardt and Boribori, who hadn’t spoken a word for days, finally broke their silence because of the girl who made them do so. They turned to look at her.

Ricardt spoke.

“Don’t you think you should dry your clothes and warm up? It’s still cold, you know. You could die.”

There were countless ways to die in the wilderness, even without a fight. Starvation and hypothermia were the most common.

Anyone who spent even one night outdoors without the proper supplies would understand how brutal it could be, especially since winter hadn’t fully passed yet.

From Ricardt’s perspective, the girl seemed to have nothing but her armor.

“Uh… uh…”

But pure goodwill was rare in this world. She couldn’t just blindly accept an offer of help.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Take care of yourself. Let’s go.”

When the girl hesitated, Ricart turned around coolly, almost to the point of seeming cold, and started to walk away. The girl quickly called out after him, realizing she might actually die if she let them go.

“W-wait a moment!”

Ricardt and Boribori stopped and turned back to look at her.

“I-I am grateful for your kind offer, but I… I have nothing to give in return. If you intend to demand my body as payment, I cannot allow that. Swear to me by the gods and the Empire that you will not!”

Her speech was strange, like the formal, antiquated manner of knights from his grandfather’s time.

“Sure, I promise.”

Ricardt said immediately, without hesitation. He had never had any such intention, so it wasn’t a hard promise to make.

He reached out his hand. The girl hesitated for a moment, then took his hand and stood up.

Once standing, she was about the same height as Ricardt, roughly 160 centimeters. Normally, girls tended to grow faster at that age, but since Ricardt was also unusually well-developed for his age, it seemed they were about the same age.

“It’s a bit early, but let’s look for a place to camp.”

“Yeah.”

And so, the two boys and one girl traveled together. The girl’s chainmail clinked with every step she took, and the wet surcoat she wore over her armor was a plain purple, without any emblem.

Since they needed to light a fire and dry her clothes as quickly as possible, they didn’t travel far. They found a suitable spot near the stream, inside a nearby forest.

It was a place where a large, flat rock jutted out like a natural roof. They set down their gear and immediately started a campfire.

The problem was that in order to dry off, the girl would have to remove both her armor and clothes.

She was clearly uncomfortable, awkward even in just sitting down.

Even after sitting, she didn’t seem to know what to do with herself, constantly glancing at the two boys who were staring at her quite openly, which only made her feel more self-conscious. It took her quite a while just to take off her helmet.

But when she finally did, an incredibly beautiful face was revealed.

Her blonde hair, which had been tied up tightly, was now slightly disheveled, and some stray locks were clinging to her face due to the moisture, but none of that diminished her beauty.

Her eyes were a bright blue, like gemstones, her skin was as flawless and pale as snow, and her features were sharp and striking.

However, given the circumstances, the girl appeared rather pitiable as she huddled by the fire, its light casting soft shadows over her timid figure.

The boys’ comments were, to say the least, out of place.

“If Erze had seen you, she would’ve skinned you alive.”

“I thought the same thing.”

“…Huh?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. We killed her.”

“…Wh-what?”

The girl didn’t understand what they were talking about, but it sounded ominous. Boribori pulled out a towel and some spare clothes from his bag and offered them to her.

“Do you want help taking off your armor?”

Ricardt asked. The girl lowered her head shyly and said,

“Y-yes……”

Ricardt, surprisingly, undid the clasps of her armor with incredible skill, removing it in an instant. Beneath the armor, she wore a gambeson—a thickly padded garment that, once soaked, became very heavy.

He hung the armor on a nearby branch, then sat down next to Boribori. Together, the boys turned their backs to the girl.

The girl, flustered and confused by the situation, had never experienced anything like this in her life. Her heart pounded as she wondered if this was really okay.

More than anything, she had never imagined she’d have to change clothes out in the wild.

But Ricardt and Boribori didn’t ask her any questions about her circumstances, nor did they even ask for her name.

In any case, the girl removed her wet clothes, using the towel to dry herself as she stared at the two boys’ backs. Then she changed into the spare clothes Ricardt had given her. Since they were about the same height, they fit her reasonably well.

“I-I’m dressed now.”

The girl said, her voice fluctuating as if she hadn’t fully settled down from the chaos of the moment.

Ricardt and Boribori, like true gentlemen, hadn’t turned around at all until now, and only then did they turn to face her.

“Feel better now?”

Ricardt asked. The girl, sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, nodded quietly. Having passed through a major ordeal, she seemed to have calmed down somewhat. Her damp, untied blonde hair now fell all the way down her back.

“If we’re heading in the same direction, we can take you with us. Where are you headed?”

The girl, for some reason looking forlorn, stared into the campfire and replied softly.

“Beringen Adventurers’ Academy.”

*****