[NARRATOR POV]
The Holy Sword Highway—a marvel of ancient magic cutting a perfectly straight path through the verdant expanse of the Great Forest.
Legend has it that Saint Milis himself created this road, infusing it with such potent magical energy that even nature itself bowed to its presence.
Though the surrounding forest floor lay submerged beneath seasonal floodwaters, the highway remained mysteriously dry. Not a single monster dared approach this sanctified path, as if an invisible barrier kept them at bay.
Our travelers would journey along this sacred route in a carriage provided by the Dedoldia tribe. The beast people had been extraordinarily generous in their preparations, supplying everything necessary for the long journey ahead:
A sturdy carriage pulled by two robust horses. Travel expenses totaling five Milis Gold Coins and five Milis Silver Coins—a small fortune by any standard. Consumable goods enough to last the entire journey.
With such provisions, they could bypass Saint Port entirely and make their way directly to the Milis capital, reducing their travel time significantly.
"Alright, let's depart," Ruijerd announced, his voice carrying the weight of a new beginning.
Just as the group prepared to leave, a familiar figure appeared, sauntering toward them with an easy gait. His simian features contorted into what could only be described as an opportunistic grin.
"Weell~, I just thought it was about time I return to Milis," the newcomer drawled. "It was just in time. Take me along as well."
Newbie Geese, with characteristic shamelessness, hopped onto the carriage without waiting for permission.
"Oh, if it isn't Geese?" Rudeus remarked, surprise evident in his tone.
"You are following along as well?" Eris added, seemingly unbothered by the addition.
Curiously, neither voiced any objection to his presence.
Claude, however, fixed the monkey-faced man with a penetrating stare. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly, fingers tensing slightly at his side. To the casual observer, his reaction might seem like simple wariness, but it stemmed from something far deeper—knowledge that transcended this timeline.
In Claude's fractured memories, this apostle of Human god played many roles across different realities. Sometimes an ally, but more often a dangerous variable—a harbinger of complications that rippled outward with far-reaching consequences.
The dissonance between these conflicting memories made Claude's temple throb with a dull ache.
Rudeus, noticing the tension, wondered if Claude and Geese were previously acquainted and asked as much.
The truth was more insidious. Geese had meticulously cultivated relationships with everyone while Rudeus wasn't looking.
He had regaled Eris, Tona, and Terusena with fascinating stories of faraway lands. He had reminisced with Ruijerd and Gustav about the "good old days"—some true, some embellished, all calculated to ingratiate himself.
With practiced ease, he had adapted to each person's nature, instinctively knowing what would appeal to them.
This carefully laid groundwork explained their ready acceptance of his company.
"Alright, then let's depart!" Ruijerd called out with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
The carriage lurched forward, wooden wheels crunching against the mystically preserved road surface.
As they began to pull away, emotional farewells played out in stark contrast.
Eris turned back toward the gathering of beast people, tears streaming freely down her face as she gazed at Minitona and the others.
There was something oddly comforting about seeing the usually temperamental girl display such genuine emotion—a testament to how much she had grown during their stay.
The blacksmith apprentices trained by Claude presented a markedly different scene. These grown men sobbed uncontrollably, biting their handkerchiefs like wives left behind by seafaring husbands. Several dropped dramatically to their knees, arms outstretched toward the departing carriage, wailing Claude's name with theatrical despair.
It was an unsettling spectacle that drew curious stares from others gathered to bid farewell.
Rudeus couldn't suppress a knowing smirk as he glanced at Claude, who could only hold his forehead in abject embarrassment, a flush of color rising to his cheeks.
Despite the lighthearted departure, something unsettled Rudeus's heart.
It's Geese's fault, he thought.
If the monkey-faced man had simply asked to accompany them from the beginning, there would have been no issue.
His skulking and manipulation seemed unnecessarily complicated. Rudeus would hardly have refused a straightforward request.
"Hey-hey, senpai. Don't glare at me like that."
Inside the carriage, now moving at considerable speed, Rudeus realized his discontent must have been plainly visible on his face.
Claude's gaze, however, remained fixed elsewhere—not on Geese directly, but focused with uncomfortable intensity on the space around him, as if assessing some invisible quality that only Claude could perceive.
With a broad grin that revealed too many teeth, Geese leaned close to Rudeus's ear, his breath warm and slightly sour.
"The one who gave a hand towards senpai's love was me, you know?"
The statement hung in the air, cryptic and perplexing.
Helper in love? Rudeus turned the phrase over in his mind.
Over the past three months, despite being surrounded by dog-eared girls and cat-eared girls of the beast tribes, Rudeus had failed to forge any romantic connections.
His relationship with Eris remained unchanged, and while he had improved his standing with Gyes since their initial meeting, that hardly constituted "love."
What nonsense was this man spouting?
"Helper in love, what do you mean?" Rudeus asked, brow furrowed.
"I helped you meet with Lord Holy Beast, didn't I?" Geese replied, his tone suggesting this should clarify everything.
"Holy beast??"
Rudeus contemplated the meaning, pieces falling into place with sickening clarity.
"Ah."
It was this man! This man was the criminal!
What twisted logic made him consider that a favor related to love? Rudeus had insisted from the beginning that the accusations were false.
"Ho-how did you manage to lead Lord Holy Beast out!" he demanded, voice dropping to an urgent whisper.
"That's a trade secret," Geese replied with a casual wave. "Well, the guards are idiots, after all. If you cause a bit of a distraction, then something like bringing him out can be done."
He spoke with such careless confidence that Rudeus felt a chill run down his spine. Did this man not understand the danger of his actions? The beast people had been furious—they might have literally torn the culprit limb from limb had they discovered his identity.
"Wh-why did you do something as dangerous as that?" Rudeus pressed.
"After all, you like dogs, right?" Geese answered with a wink.
"I told you that was a false charge."
"Was that the case? Well, isn't it fine?"
The lightness of Geese's tone, his frivolous laughter—it all struck Rudeus as deeply concerning. A creeping anxiety took root in his chest.
Perhaps this man was more dangerous than he appeared. Would it be unwise to allow him to accompany them on their journey?
"Ruijerd-san," Rudeus called out suddenly. "Turn around the carriage."
"Why?" came the stoic response.
"We have to turn over the criminal who let out Lord Holy Beast."
"Wha? Wait-wait!"
Panic flashed across Geese's features as he lunged forward, attempting to clamp a hand over Rudeus's mouth. His normally calculated demeanor cracked, revealing genuine alarm beneath.
Because of this man's thoughtless "prank," Rudeus had endured suspicion and hostility from the beast people. Justice demanded consequences.
There's a need to turn my heart into a demon and make sure punishment is received here, Rudeus thought grimly.
"It's alright, newbie," he said with deliberately cold calm. "I'll properly explain things to you. They might throw you into prison nude and hurl cold water at you, but you can endure that much."
"Hey, wait for a second! Are you serious?" Geese's voice pitched higher. "Listen well, the one who prepared the carriage was me. Those guys don't have the culture that apologizes for things with objects. That's why forgive me!"
The monkey-faced man's desperation was palpable, his charm shifted into overdrive as he pleaded for clemency.
Rudeus wavered. This man wasn't inherently malicious—he had learned as much during their shared imprisonment.
The release of Lord Holy Beast, while incredibly misguided, hadn't been done with genuine malicious intent.
And yet...
"Rudeus." Ruijerd's voice cut through his deliberation.
"What, Ruijerd-san?"
"Forgive him."
"Danna! As expected of Danna!" Geese exclaimed, relief flooding his features. "Weell~, I've always thought since before that Danna is quite the handsome man!"
Really, this guy...
Rudeus sighed internally before addressing Ruijerd directly.
"Ruijerd-san. Is it fine? This guy is one of those villains you really hate?"
"He probably did it because he thought he was doing it for your sake," Ruijerd replied, his usual moral absolutism seemingly tempered by something Rudeus couldn't quite identify.
The basis for Ruijerd's judgment remained opaque to Rudeus. What made some actions forgivable and others unforgivable in the Superd warrior's eyes? Perhaps this leniency was the result of Geese's earlier groundwork, his storytelling and camaraderie-building paying dividends at a crucial moment.
"That's right, it was like that, Danna!" Geese seized the opening. "I did it for senpai's sake! I couldn't have imagined that it would become a serious issue. Then I went a bit overboard with it, but I absolutely didn't do it to try and cause problems for anyone!"
In truth, Rudeus owed this man a debt. During their imprisonment—cold, naked, and vulnerable—Geese had offered him a vest without hesitation. Compared to the beast race people who continued to doubt him even after knowing the charges were false, Geese's impulsive but well-intentioned gesture left a better impression.
Perhaps it was best to let the matter rest.
Claude, meanwhile, continued to observe Geese with calculating intensity. Though he knew this particular version of Geese posed no immediate threat at this stage of their journey, the accumulated knowledge from a thousand fractured timelines screamed warnings in his mind.
The threat this seemingly harmless man represented was enormous—not today, not tomorrow, but in the grand tapestry of fate that Claude alone could partially perceive.
A memory fragment surfaced: Geese standing over Rudeus's broken body in one timeline, speaking words that had never been uttered in this reality: "It was never personal, kid. Just following orders."
Another shard of memory: Geese saving Rudeus from certain death, sacrificing himself in the process, his final words lost to the roar of collapsing stone.
The contradictions made Claude's head pound. He knew that Human God had many apostles; eliminating Geese now would only hasten the arrival of another, potentially accelerating events down an even darker path.
So Claude held himself back, forcing his tense muscles to relax, his breathing to steady.
"It's fine if you come along," Rudeus finally conceded, "but newbie, aren't you afraid of the Superd race?"
He spoke loudly enough for Ruijerd to hear, curious whether Geese was aware of Ruijerd's heritage. If he had been present during their drinking sessions in the village, he might have overheard this revelation.
It would be awkward if Geese responded with shock: "Superd race, seriously?"
"That can't be," Geese replied with unexpected seriousness. "Of course, I'm scared since I'm also of a demon race. The fear of the Superd race starts from the time you're a child. They say they'll eat you."
"I see," Rudeus nodded. "Incidentally, even though Ruijerd looks that way, he's a Superd."
As these words left Rudeus's mouth, Geese's eyes narrowed, the lines around them deepening with what appeared to be genuine emotion.
"Danna is different. Since he's my life's savior after all."
Puzzled, Rudeus glanced at Ruijerd, silently questioning with raised eyebrows. Ruijerd shook his head slightly—he had no recollection of saving this man.
"As expected, you don't remember," Geese continued, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his voice. "It was 30 years prior, after all."
What followed was a tale so embellished, so dramatically narrated that it bordered on parody. Geese recounted their supposed meeting, their parting, the pivotal moments, and even love interests—yes, love interests—with the cadence of a practiced bard.
He described himself as a handsome adventurer departing on a journey, pursued by the pleas of a hundred women begging him not to leave. He spoke of mysterious beauties encountered on the road, of daring escapes and heroic last stands.
The essence of his story, stripped of flourishes, was simple: as a novice adventurer, he had been attacked by a monster and faced certain death until Ruijerd intervened, saving his life.
"Well, it was something that happened 30 years ago," Geese concluded with a shrug. "There's no reason to especially feel a debt."
He grinned broadly. "The Superd race is scary, but Danna is different."
For the first time since their departure, Ruijerd's expression softened, the perpetual blankness giving way to something almost resembling warmth.
Rudeus felt he finally understood the concept of karma—how actions long forgotten could return in unexpected ways, how lives intertwined across decades.
"Well, I'm asking to at least join you for a bit? As previous comrades?" Geese pressed his advantage.
And thus, the monkey-faced man attached himself to Dead End—not as an official member, but as a self-invited companion until the next town, at least.
According to his superstition, forming a party of four brought misfortune. Claude, seemingly sharing this caution, refused formal membership, stating that they would part ways upon meeting Mike—a strategic choice to better manage the aftermath of the teleportation incident.
Rudeus couldn't deny Claude's intelligence. In fact, Claude's insight often surpassed his own, analytical mind functioning on levels Rudeus couldn't access. Having him coordinate with Mike through Arbalest would enhance their ability to assist those displaced by the catastrophe—a catastrophe that, despite Claude's foreknowledge and desperate efforts, they had failed to prevent.
As the carriage rolled on, the enchanted highway glittering faintly beneath them, Claude gazed out at the submerged forest. His expression remained carefully neutral, but behind his eyes, a storm of fragmented memories competed for dominance—each one showing a different outcome for their journey along this very road, each one whispering contradictory warnings about what awaited them ahead.
Only one thing remained consistent across all those shattered possibilities: the journey would not be as peaceful as this serene road suggested.
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