[NARRATOR POV]
Two months had passed since their arrival in the Dedoldia village.
Ruijerd and Gustav had developed an unexpected camaraderie, one forged through the sharing of battle tales and cups of potent beast tribe liquor.
The Superd warrior often visited the Dedoldia house, where the two veterans would exchange stories of their bloody pasts—tales that made even the hardened warriors listening nearby wince occasionally.
As members of self-proclaimed "rampaging" races, both men carried the weight of their violent histories with a complex mixture of regret and lingering pride. Their stories, though likely embellished with each retelling, contained enough truth to provide Claude and Rudeus with valuable insights about the beast races.
The term "Beast Race," they learned, encompassed all the diverse peoples who called the Great Forest their home. Some of these races had migrated to the Demon Continent, adopting the moniker of Demon Races. What unified them was a single physical trait: each possessed one non-human, mammalian characteristic somewhere on their bodies. Beyond this, each race boasted unique extrasensory abilities that set them apart.
In the broadest sense, even beings like Nokopara with his horse-like head from the Demon Continent and the bull-headed Blaze would fall under this classification—a taxonomy far more complex than either traveler had initially realized.
Among these varied peoples, the Dedoldia tribe held a distinct position. They were the hereditary guardians of the Holy Beast and stewards of the forest's delicate harmony.
The cat-like Dedoldia and dog-like Adoldia formed the main branches, with several dozen smaller tribes scattered throughout the Great Forest. They were, in essence, the uncrowned royalty of this vast woodland domain.
Though they exercised little formal authority in present times, they would naturally assume leadership when circumstances demanded it—a dormant sovereignty awaiting its moment.
The Great Forest also hosted other races: the long-eared folk and halflings primarily inhabited the southern regions.
Though their interactions with the beast races were limited for most of the year, all peoples gathered annually at the Great Sage Tree for festivals and clan meetings—temporary unity amid their natural separation.
According to Gustav, though different in nature and custom, all were allies united by their connection to the Great Forest.
The dwarven race, Gustav explained between drinks, did not dwell within the forest boundaries but instead made their homes farther south at the base of the Blue Dragon Mountain Range.
The majestic blue dragons themselves roamed the world's skies but always returned to those mountains for nesting and rearing their young—similar to migratory birds, though on a vastly different timescale, returning perhaps once every decade.
The history between beast races and humans had always been tumultuous—a cyclical pattern of war and tentative peace, repeated endless times through the centuries. The most recent skirmish had occurred roughly fifty years prior.
Gustav had participated in that conflict, serving in a combat unit that had "mowed down" human intruders who had strayed into forest territory—or so his increasingly dramatic retelling suggested.
Though obviously exaggerated, hearing the conflict from the beast race perspective provided a fascinating counterpoint to human historical accounts.
Not to be outdone, Ruijerd eventually drew forth his heirloom spear, launching into tales of the Superd race during Laplace's war—stories so ancient they had passed into legend for most races.
"Warriors these days lack the fortitude we had," Gustav lamented, shaking his head.
Ruijerd nodded solemnly. "I understand well, Master Gustav. The weak have multiplied."
"Indeed. In my youth, not a single man stood who wasn't splendid in battle."
They were completely synchronized in their nostalgic complaints.
Rudeus, observing their interaction, thought wryly, I guess some things transcend worlds—old warriors always glorify the past.
"Gyes has risen to lead our warriors," Gustav continued, "but his judgment remains inadequate. He excels at rallying fighters, but with better situational awareness, that unfortunate incident with Rudeus-dono would never have occurred."
"No," Ruijerd countered firmly. "Rudeus is a warrior. If he lowered his guard in hostile territory and was captured, he should have anticipated such an outcome. Even with his guard down, someone of Gyes's caliber should have been easily overcome had Rudeus fought seriously. The fault lies with Rudeus."
Gods, this is painful to hear, Rudeus thought, wincing inwardly.
Ruijerd trusted me enough to let me venture alone, and I was captured with embarrassing ease. I've betrayed his confidence in me.
Claude nodded in agreement from where he sat nearby, adding that Gyes was significantly weaker than the Northern Saint they had previously faced together.
"Yet, Master Ruijerd," Gustav pressed, "isn't that perspective somewhat heartless? Your ally was oppressed."
"A warrior bears responsibility for the consequences of their battles," Ruijerd stated, the alcohol loosening his typically taciturn nature. "Rudeus possesses more than enough power to have escaped easily! I appreciate his trust in his comrades, but he is no child. A true warrior doesn't passively await rescue!"
You're quite drunk, Ruijerd, Rudeus thought unhappily. I'm sure you'd have escaped effortlessly in my position. I wish you wouldn't place such lofty expectations on me. My capabilities have definite limits.
Lost in these self-recriminations, Rudeus didn't notice Claude's approach until a sharp smack landed on the back of his head.
"I know what you're thinking," Claude said, his voice carrying that familiar mixture of exasperation and insight that unsettled Rudeus. "But you're more capable than you believe. I constantly wonder how someone with such crippling self-doubt can simultaneously possess such extraordinary abilities and glaring blind spots." He sighed, eyes momentarily distant as though seeing something beyond their current reality. "What a waste of talent..."
"Hey! That hurts!" Rudeus protested, rubbing his head.
"Geez, go flirt with your girl over there," Claude replied with a dismissive wave. "You'll accomplish nothing worthwhile eavesdropping on old men's war stories."
Rudeus walked away grumbling at Claude's remarks, the words striking uncomfortably close to home.
[Rudeus POV]
After Claude's cutting observation, I retreated from the gathering.
It had become too painful to remain alongside Ruijerd, bearing the weight of his unspoken disappointment.
If I approached Eris and the others, Gyes would only glare daggers at me—his pride still wounded from our encounter. With nowhere else to turn, I spent the hours from early afternoon into evening in solitude.
Finding no pressing tasks demanding attention, I turned to magic practice—always my refuge in uncomfortable situations.
I manipulated the water current flowing across the ground outside the village, experimenting with freezing techniques and analyzing the crystalline structures that formed.
Suddenly, a realization struck me. If I had mastered wind magic sufficiently to achieve flight, I could have easily escaped captivity by the second day.
Gyes would have been spared the humiliation of prostrating himself, and no one would harbor resentment. We might have achieved a genuinely happy resolution.
This thought propelled me to action. I left the village, creating an improvised path by freezing the flowing water into ice as I walked.
After locating a suitable clearing, I felled a nearby tree and used earth magic to construct a stone platform extending ten meters in every direction—a practice arena resembling a soccer field. The surface was somewhat slippery, unsuitable for running, but perfect for my purposes.
"Now then," I murmured to myself.
With cautious optimism, I summoned a tornado to observe its effects. For human flight, this magnitude should suffice—approximately 100 meters per second, if my calculations were correct.
Though uncertain of the precise meaning of that measurement in practical terms, I decided to test it directly.
"Alakazam!" I called out with mock ceremony, then immediately felt foolish. "Just... kidding!"
The spell caught me unaware with its intensity. I was launched skyward like a dried leaf in autumn wind, my body apparently lighter than I had estimated. Alarm seized me as I realized my altitude—I was approaching the cloud layer.
Fear crystallized in my chest as gravity reasserted its dominance, pulling me earthward at terrifying velocity. Instinctively, I activated my foresight ability, glimpsing one second into my immediate future.
Reacting to this preview of disaster, I generated an upward current with my right hand while firing multiple shock waves with my left, attempting to reduce my falling speed. My efforts came too late.
The sickening crack of breaking branches accompanied my descent through a tree canopy before I plunged into water with a resounding splash.
My body was battered, multiple bones fractured from the impact. Blood poured from my nose as I struggled to control the water currents while fighting disorientation.
Through waves of dizziness and all-encompassing pain, I somehow managed to cast healing magic—not perfect, but enough to prevent immediate death.
The scent of blood soon attracted predators. I had unwittingly crashed into the nesting grounds of Rain Forest Lizards—C-rank monsters known for their aquatic speed. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I confronted them one after another.
I established a battle rhythm: freezing the surrounding water with my right hand to immobilize the creatures, then dispatching them with precisely aimed earth bullets to their heads. Though formidable in water, the lizards proved manageable once immobilized in ice.
After defeating all attackers, I began gathering their bodies—valuable resources that shouldn't be wasted. Before I realized it, darkness had fallen.
I found myself lost, ignorant of my current location or the path back to the village.
Anxiety threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced myself to remain calm. If panic clouded my judgment, I would only worsen my situation.
I had to stay collected—COOL, as I had often reminded myself in my previous life.
First, I systematically froze all nearby water across the widest possible range, continuously lowering the temperature while shivering from both exertion and cold. The ice expanded outward like a crystalline map marking my position.
Simultaneously, I conjured a fireball before me—both as a beacon and a source of warmth in the growing chill.
The light might attract monsters, but those adapted to the rainy season were primarily swimmers. They would likely avoid the frozen surface I had created.
Less than an hour later, salvation arrived. Ruijerd approached across the ice sheet, accompanied by Dedoldia warriors.
Relief washed through me—the tension of potential abandonment in unfamiliar territory had been more distressing than I cared to admit.
"Rudeus, what happened?" Ruijerd asked, eyes scanning the frozen landscape.
"Just—just a bit of training," I replied, unwilling to confess how close I had come to death through my own miscalculation.
A small display of vanity, perhaps, but necessary for my pride.
"I see..." Ruijerd surveyed the scene with new appreciation. "It's the first time I've seen you truly exert yourself. When the entire village perimeter froze over, I wondered what catastrophe had occurred."
"Ye-yeah..." I managed weakly.
"All the monsters are frozen solid."
"Eh, yes—I had hoped for assistance transporting them. I expended considerable effort freezing the surroundings."
"An easy request to fulfill," Ruijerd nodded. "Though next time, inform me beforehand."
"If Ruijerd-san accompanied me, it wouldn't qualify as secret training," I pointed out.
This prompted a rare laugh from the Superd warrior.
The beast race warriors eyed the frozen Rain Forest Lizards with visible unease, particularly noting how each had been dispatched with methodical precision—heads crushed while bodies remained intact.
I noticed their apprehension and sought to ease the tension. "The meat from these lizards tastes remarkably like chicken," I offered conversationally.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Claude's smug expression as he munched on a piece of lizard meat—his gaze clearly conveying "I told you so."
It was strange witnessing him patiently instructing a beast tribe elder in smithing techniques, the older warrior zealously recording Claude's explanations in a worn notebook.
Several other warriors clustered around, peppering him with questions about his recently developed sword technique.
That bastard had already created his own fighting style, pretentiously naming it "Cloud Style." What a narcissist...
Perhaps I needed to develop a signature spell and name it after myself—establish my own legacy in this world.
In subsequent days, I practiced wind magic flight techniques multiple times, learning painful lessons through experience. Making my body float with wind magic alone proved exceptionally challenging.
What I eventually managed—if one could call it success—was using a blunt Earth Lance spell at my feet to launch myself skyward.
Once airborne, I would accelerate using wind magic and, when landing became necessary, decelerate while preparing a water cushion at the landing site.
What an inelegant solution! I felt bitter frustration at my apparent lack of talent in this area. The dream of flying freely through the sky remained tantalizingly out of reach.
Nevertheless, I found some satisfaction in this compromise. Though unable to achieve true flight, I had developed a method for rapid aerial travel.
The original goal remained unfulfilled, but I had gained something valuable—a perspective I chose to accept as adequate.
"Your target is right, but your focus is wrong," Claude remarked, approaching as I concluded another practice session.
"What do you mean?" I asked, irritation creeping into my voice.
"Let's just say your basics are lacking..."
What was he talking about? What "basics" could possibly apply to an unprecedented technique?
"Let's create an image of a bird," he continued, seemingly oblivious to my annoyance. "Can a hatchling fly?"
The answer was obvious. "They can't."
"Then when can they fly?"
"When their feathers develop, I suppose."
"Right. They need time for feathers to grow," he nodded. "But even a fully-feathered bird requires proper nutrition. Without it, their bodies remain incapable of flight despite having all the necessary equipment."
"So?" I prompted, failing to see his point.
"You're too physically underdeveloped to manifest the magic you're attempting to create."
"Hah!" I scoffed. "You try it then—you're sturdier than me."
In response, he merely chuckled before demonstrating exactly what I had failed to achieve—his body rising steadily into the air, hovering with apparent effortlessness.
"See?" he called down. "You must calibrate your position, maintain stability, and coordinate your muscles precisely in this state. Do you believe your current physique capable of such control?"
Damn him. I stared in astonishment at the display before me.
"How did you manage that?" I demanded.
"I've explained it before. I need only observe a technique once to understand its magical deployment." He descended gracefully. "Though this particular spell is inefficient for me, given my lower mana reserves compared to yours. It's unsustainable long-term and fails to achieve your intended purpose."
"Ugh..."
The realization was galling—he had analyzed my prototype spell and succeeded in executing it after a single observation.
"Don't look so dejected," he said, noticing my expression. "What I can do is merely copy. I cannot create such techniques independently yet, though development shouldn't pose significant problems. Let's see who perfects it first."
"I won't lose to you!" I declared, new determination kindling within me.
My frustration transformed into competitive fire. If Claude could adapt my creation so quickly, I would simply need to push further—reach heights he couldn't follow with his supposedly "limited" mana reserves.
As we returned to the village together, I began mentally sketching modifications to my approach. Perhaps physical conditioning alongside magical development would yield better results.
Whatever it took, I refused to concede this particular battlefield to Claude and his irritating competence.
The challenge was set. The race to master flight had begun in earnest.
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