Answer me: What are you willing to sacrifice for your family? Clearly, sentimentalists would say, "Everything!" The reserved would hesitate for a moment, while those who considered themselves tough would claim that they truly didn't care.
Too bad I'm a sentimentalist.
It was in that luxurious room that Eídal Granier had found his answer.
And he believed in it.
"I have to repay him, no matter what."
What are you willing to sacrifice for your family?
His Master's question echoed through his mind once again.
With a long sigh, he waited for the group of heroes to arrive.
He was standing in a side alley off the main street. According to the rumors he had gathered, a hero's party was currently in the city. If he was patient, it was only a matter of time before they crossed the main street that connected to their inn.
Heroes were not merely respected.
They were feared.
Beyond the furtive glances of a few passersby, no one would dare approach them directly.
Then Eídal saw them.
It was a small group, no more than three people, but the one who stood at its head immediately drew his attention.
Beautiful.
It was a word he had never even used for Ingrid.
Dressed in what appeared to be a suit of pure-white light armor, she was a woman with an overwhelming presence. Since she wore no helmet, Eídal could clearly see her sharply defined features, the sort of face that would appeal to anyone, regardless of gender.
Her short, jet-black hair was styled almost like a man's, contrasting starkly with her armor. Her pupils were golden, matching the raised decorations adorning her clothing.
She was beautiful in every sense of the word.
At her waist hung a small weapon that seemed to take the shape of a spear. Its decorations resembled engravings made from curved glyphs.
The weapon of the Spear Hero.
Or, in this case, the Spear Heroine.
Her stature was equally imposing. She stood four to six fingers taller than Eídal. Perhaps twenty-two, maybe twenty-four years old.
Her tranquil expression seemed almost like a mask, concealing the brutality of the power beneath it.
Someone who hovered around Mithril rank according to the Fallen's system.
Compared to Eídal, the difference between them was like heaven and earth.
Her companions were no less intimidating.
One was a blond man with several ornaments woven into his hair. Bringing up the rear was a slender young woman.
Once the group had passed him, Eídal clutched the case against his chest.
He forced strength into his trembling legs…
"Get out of the way!!" he shouted from behind them, rushing in their direction. "E-Excuse me!"
Pretending to be in a hurry, he tried to run past them.
But his commotion caused one of the party members to turn around, and Eídal couldn't avoid crashing into her.
"Kya!"
"Ahh!… That hurts."
The two of them tumbled onto the cobblestone street like sacks of grain.
Of course, it wasn't the Spear Heroine.
It was one of her companions, the one walking at the very back of the group.
The young woman wore a long leather skirt with slits reaching up to her knees, paired with a slightly oversized white shirt. A red-and-black hooded scarf was wrapped around her neck, and she wore gloves that matched the sheath at her side.
Nothing magical.
Her clothing wasn't all that different from Eídal's own.
Her brown hair was long and disheveled. Her complexion was somewhat dark, and her blue eyes glared at Eídal in irritation.
"What was that supposed to be?… That hurt," she said.
"Uh… Wha—?! I'm sorry!"
"Just get off me."
Eídal carefully stood and offered her a hand.
"It's not really my day."
The young woman accepted his hand and rose as well. Wincing, she rubbed the back of her head.
By the time Eídal realized it, every member of the heroine's party had turned their eyes toward him.
The first step was complete.
The woman at the head of the group approached, and the young woman who had still been scolding Eídal simply stepped aside.
"Uh? This is…"
Seeing her up close, Eídal became painfully aware of the enormous difference in their levels.
So, in an attempt to defuse the situation, he tried to make a joke, twisting his face into an awkward expression.
"Umm…"
But there didn't seem to be a single joke in the world appropriate for the occasion.
Maybe I could kiss her feet… and pretend none of this ever happened.
He clenched his fist and immediately discarded the thought of running away.
When Eídal failed to say anything, the heroine merely furrowed her finely shaped brows and spoke.
"What is this about? You ran into her on purpose, didn't you?"
It didn't work!
Her voice was slow, but pleasant to the ear, although Eídal would have preferred not to hear what she had actually said.
At the same time, he cursed himself for failing to come up with a better plan.
"Um, I…"
"You're not going to say anything?"
"Ah! Well…"
Without exaggeration, it was the very image of an ant facing an elephant.
Everything depended on his next answer, so Eídal decided to think carefully.
After all, this was the kind of adventure where he stood completely alone against the world.
The kind of adventure where he would have to become the wolf among sheep.
In this race to kill the heroes…
Who would emerge victorious?