Chapter 15 - Morning Star (5)

The tutorial was too hard.

The instant those words crossed his mind, the Kim Seonwoo inside him flinched. Ivan ignored his reaction and continued thinking.

This was too hard. Even objectively, imagining how the game would play out based on his days as Kim Seonwoo, it was too hard.

Ivan sighed, resting against a tree trunk. If he had just one man with him, even someone only as good as Dmitry, he wouldn't have had to fight like this.

Kill two or three soldiers at the eastern edge, lay a trap, sprint all the way west, and deliberately fire a shot. After repeating that for over thirty minutes, even Ivan was getting tired.

Having to limit himself to a single gunshot per engagement doubled the difficulty. It had earned him a long sword wound on his forearm.

He took out his last healing potion and started to pour it over the wound, then stopped. Hmm... It was bearable. Better save this.

Ivan sat beneath the tree to catch his breath and organize his thoughts. Suppose this was the tutorial that began immediately after selecting the character “Isabelle.”

I've just left the character selection screen. Now the loading screen is scrolling through reams of worldbuilding that make you think, “What the fuck are you talking about, nerd?” The loading bar is nearly full.

If this were a AAA game, there would be a cutscene here. And there happened to be something perfect for it. A terrorist attack on a train. An academy cliché.

All right. The train gets attacked, and you wake up buried in dirt. An NPC lies before you, injured in Isabelle's place. If gameplay started here, there was a problem.

'How would she have gotten out?'

Escaping the buried carriage was a problem in itself. Suppose there was some puzzle inside that let her escape once she solved it. Then a whole horde of unidentified elite soldiers came charging at her? Without teaching her a single combat mechanic? And the tutorial boss...

'He had Line of Fire Detection.'

It was even stranger when he considered Esidisi's case. Her tutorial had been simple enough to clear one-handed.

Then was this an escape event rather than a combat event? Or perhaps a scripted defeat. Maybe she was supposed to lose, get captured, and escape afterward. Plenty of games did that.

'No. These men were trying to kill Isabelle.'

Their equipment wasn't meant for taking prisoners. It was clearly meant for killing. Which meant she couldn't let herself get caught. Usually, in a scripted defeat, a helper rescued you immediately after you lost the fight.

Rescue...? A helper...?

'Me...?'

Ivan's expression froze. His heart sank. I was the helper? In other words, I was an NPC?

He fought to calm his pounding heart. Forcing his seething emotions under control was familiar work. Calmly, he counted the points off on his fingers.

Had there been a character named “Ivan Petrovich” in the original game? His military service, eighteen years of being worked like a dog, having to fight the Seven Dragon Generals despite being an ordinary man, retiring and even founding an orphanage. Had all of it already been written into the “setting”? Had it all been predetermined, regardless of his wishes?

Then what ending awaited the original “Ivan Petrovich”? Would he survive to the end? Would his face even appear in the ending scene?

Forcibly cutting off the chain of dark thoughts, Ivan tucked the healing potion inside his coat.

There was only one way to find out why this event's difficulty had become such a mess, and whether she truly was doomed to die without a helper.

He quickly climbed the tree and set off toward the train.

* * *

CLANG! SCREEECH!!

Sparks flew as the blades locked. Isabelle was outmatched in strength, and gaining an edge in technique was difficult, too. Gritting her teeth, she twisted her blade.

It was a beautiful deflection, straight out of a swordsmanship manual. The blade traced a smooth, flawless arc, turning her opponent's sword aside. It was the best she could do. She wasn't confident she could land a more beautiful attack than this.

“You see them now and then.”

Eiphellos laughed as he knocked her sword aside.

“The ones who see something somewhere and shut themselves away, swinging sticks all alone. Model students memorizing their manuals word for word, all to make their attacks faster and more fluid. Hmm?”

“Shut... up!”

“You have it wrong, knight of Thilles.”

CLANG! CLANG!

Her attacks were blocked. Yet every time she tried to defend, she inevitably gave up another inch or more. She had no notable wounds yet, but she could feel it. Little by little, she was being forced onto the defensive.

Her balance of offense and defense was a shambles. Unable to take even one step forward, she could only keep stumbling backward. And behind her were the civilians. The people she was responsible for.

She couldn't retreat any farther. She was cornered, with nowhere left to go. Grinding her teeth, Isabelle swung.

CLANG!

“A sword stroke only means anything if it reaches your opponent, doesn't it? In the end, swordsmanship is nothing but a method for driving your blade into someone else's body!”

CLANG!

“The hero's daughter, grown to this age without a single real fight, and look at you! The indolence of you United Kingdoms bastards makes me sick.”

“Shut uuup!”

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

A blade filled with rage could no longer maintain technical precision. She simply swung wildly to vent her anger. Eiphellos was far too experienced to fall to such sloppy attacks.

SCRAPE! CLANG!

He bound her blade with his own and flicked his wrist, knocking it away. The sword flew from Isabelle's hand and bounced and rolled across the ground.

In truth, he could have ended this a little sooner. But the fact that she was the hero's flesh and blood had put him on high alert. That hero, Maximilien, had always pulled off something miraculous at the very last moment.

But it was over now. Eiphellos gave a short laugh. He'd lost valuable soldiers for nothing.

“You protected no one. Isabelle, daughter of Maximilien. Any last words?”

Isabelle bit her lip, looking at her fallen sword. Composure in the face of death was commendable, but she should be watching her opponent now. What a fool. Eiphellos raised his sword with a sneer.

* * *

Ivan watched from a tree. He had no intention of saving her. He needed to make sure.

If Isabelle died here, it meant his prediction was wrong. Of course, there were games where losing to the tutorial boss meant game over. But that wasn't the case here. This opponent was far too strong to beat with her stats.

But if he rushed in and saved her now, well. Then there really would be no denying it. It would be as good as confirming that the character “Ivan Petrovich” was merely an NPC in this game.

So he intended not to intervene, even if Isabelle died. After all, there were still five other player characters left. If sacrificing one could give him the answer, he'd come out ahead.

Ivan gazed down at Isabelle in the distance, lost in thought.

* * *

“You protected no one. Isabelle, daughter of Maximilien. Any last words?”

Time slowed for Isabelle, as though her life were flashing before her eyes at the approach of death.

The blade flowing like a ripple. The demon's face, full of anger and mockery. Distorted moonlight. Her own ragged breathing. Her sword at her feet. The proof of all her time and effort, now discarded like trash.

[“Take up your sword.”]

She heard that voice. The words of the very, very old knightly order's investiture ceremony that Sir Dian August had murmured while unconscious.

Her consciousness sank a little deeper. A hazy image came to mind. Amid rows of countless people, a lone figure knelt.

[“Stand with the weak, and look upon those like us through their eyes.

“We take up our swords not for our valor, our strength, or our superiority.

“But simply because it is right. Because it is just, for a cause we are bound to uphold.”]

The solemn declaration rang out. The knights lining the hall raised their swords as one. The old man at their head lifted his sword, turned the blade flat, and slowly lowered it. With the care of someone performing a baptism, he rested the blade lightly on the kneeling figure's head.

[“Take up your sword because it is what you ought to do.

“Take up your sword not for your might, but for your goodness.”]

He tapped each shoulder in turn.

[“You are now a knight.

“Look upon those like us through the eyes of the weak.”]

Isabelle came to her senses in the stillness, not even breathing. The demon's blade was descending toward her head. Slowly, yet her body felt heavier and slower still.

Behind her, she heard groans, screams, and wails of terror and shock.

[“Stand with the weak and see through their eyes.

“Take up your sword not for your might, but for your goodness.”]

The voice was still ringing out. Yes, I shall. As if entranced, Isabelle reached for the fallen sword and grasped its hilt.

Her body felt light. Lighter than it ever had in her life. Every muscle in her body flexed fluidly, then gathered with strength.

By the time Eiphellos's sword fell to just above her head, Isabelle was already in position.

SHUNK!

Silence fell. Over everyone around her. Even the wind. At that moment, not even the wind shivering through the forest disturbed her ears.

The clouds parted, and the moon shone brightly once more. The survivors behind her stared at the sight before them, forgetting even to breathe.

The blade had stopped just above Isabelle's crouching head. And a sword blade jutted from the huge demon's back like a sprouting branch.

“How...?”

Eiphellos couldn't understand what had happened. Dazed, he stared down at Isabelle. He couldn't see her expression; her head was bowed. Yet in that moment, he understood with perfect clarity. This little girl. No. This knight had just taken her first step.

He laughed hollowly. First the hero, and now his daughter had run him through. He spat out a mouthful of blood and staggered back.

CLATTER!

His sword slipped from his hand. Stumbling backward, he collapsed to his knees.

“Whew...”

Isabelle, too, planted her sword in the ground, dropped to one knee, and let out a deep breath. She was exhausted. Utterly.

But she'd saved them. Kept them alive. Everyone standing behind her. In the end, she'd saved every survivor.

“Excellent.”

She jerked her head up at the low voice. A man was walking toward her from the distance with heavy footsteps.

His bushy beard hid his expression, but his vivid blue eyes shone clearly even in the darkness. He was smiling.

The blood dripping from his arm and his coat, shredded by branches, told her what sort of battle he'd returned from. She could never have done that. Hadn't she nearly died fighting just one man?

So this was why he'd said she wouldn't be any help. Isabelle shook her head with a faint laugh.

“The other enemies...?”

“He was the last.”

“That's incredible. Really...”

“Well.”

The man smiled gently, somehow looking at her like an uncle admiring how well his niece had grown. Isabelle laughed at how perfectly her own description fit. He really did seem to see her as a niece.

“Huh? What are you doing?”

“Treatment.”

He was tearing the cap off that loathsome truth serum and walking toward the fallen demon.

* * *

Whew, thank goodness. Kim Seonwoo sighed. What a relief. Ivan, too, gave a brief laugh.

It had been an ordinary early-game awakening event. The kind included in a tutorial.

Isabelle probably would have killed every enemy in this forest. Of course, everyone else, including the survivors, would have been slaughtered in the process, leaving her the sole survivor.

His intervention had kept all the survivors alive. Thank goodness. It seemed the only variable in this world was Ivan himself.

He smiled in relief. Good, then. Simply establishing that he wasn't an NPC was enough of a success. Now there was only one thing left to do.

“What are you...?”

“Treatment.”

“Me... Why...?”

“I have a lot of questions.”

If a difference in tutorial difficulty like that between Esidisi's and Isabelle's was normal, what difficulties would the other children of the Hero's Party be assigned? Should he intervene, or could he afford to watch?

This was perfect timing. Unlike with Esidisi, the people behind the terrorist attack had shown themselves in person this time.

How had demons managed to roam so brazenly near Prizhenkaya? How many more had infiltrated the academy? What were they plotting, and where? And who the hell was in charge? There was a lot to learn.

And the Extermination Unit had plenty of curiosity, along with plenty of ways to satisfy it.