It´s Dangerous To Go Alone
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It’s dangerous to go alone. take this!
As a matter of course, I had already packed my things and was ready for the day—my clothes were on, but I wasn’t wearing them yet. The sky was just beginning to lighten when I heard a knock at the door.
A short distance away from me lay two rows of bookshelves that held all sorts of different magic spellbooks and scrolls, so there should have been no need to ring the bell or call out in any way; it seemed pretty rude of whoever was knocking.
Not wanting to ignore someone who might be trying to talk with me about something important, I opened the front door without hesitation (as I did every morning). When I stepped outside onto the porch, an old man stood before me: he looked like he could only be ten years older than I, which made him around fifty.
He had bright red hair, clear eyes, and a slender build that suggested he was perfectly healthy—but it also hinted at his advanced age.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, shaking my hand as we greeted each other. “I’m Mr. Smith.” His voice sounded warm and gentle, yet simultaneously powerful. There was definitely nothing frail about either his smile or his handshake.
Standing still next to him felt a bit intimidating, but not because he was particularly large or anything else; if you took one look at us both, it would seem like we were a matching set. We must have presented quite the strange sight indeed.
From what I understood, Mr. Smith was actually a wizard. That means that, even though he appeared to be human in appearance, he shouldn’t really exist on earth. According to rumors, wizards live a very long time, but their lifespan isn’t usually extended by natural causes—rather, they’re brought back to life many times over.
I knew of one such person, an alchemist who went by Master Lee. This man was about three hundred years old, although some claimed that he’d reached the ripe old age of five thousand. If Mr. Smith turned out to be similar, then perhaps I could learn more about how he was resurrected…
“It certainly is nice here today,” Mr. Smith added after introducing himself. “You can see far beyond your own domain in these early hours, don’t you think?”
Just from listening to his speech, I got a sense of why he was called a wizard. For some reason, it reminded me of the English word “wizened”—I didn’t know anyone who actually fit that description, however.
And since his words carried power in them, I realized that he might well be a godling. Still, thinking about whether people were gods or not had been high on my list of priorities.
Mr. Smith left shortly afterward, but I remained behind, putting together my equipment. After all, that was part of my daily routine as a magic user. First came my outfit: gloves, boots, tunic, breeches, undergarments, and shirt.
Then came my accessories: bow, quiver, and scabbard, as well as my walking stick. Finally, I removed my hat and put on my leather helmet. As a magic user, I needed protection against direct physical attacks, so I always wore one whenever I was outside.
It protected my head, face, and neck while keeping my eyes safe from projectiles or falling debris. Magic users weren’t invincible like monsters; after all, the worst thing that could happen to someone using magic was being hit by a stray arrow or having his skull pierced by a random rock. So I had to rely on the safety features of my armor whenever I was outdoors.
Since the sun hadn’t risen yet, there was no point in taking my sword along, since it couldn’t be used during sunlight. I didn’t want to carry it around inside anyway. And lastly, I made sure I had enough food and water to keep me going through the whole day.
Water was probably the most necessary item of all. Whenever I started getting thirsty, I would check to make sure there wasn’t a pond nearby, and if I found myself near one, I’d stop and fill up my canteen. Or, better yet, I’d choose a place where the spring came from underground—which meant that it wouldn’t run dry. Now I was finally ready to leave.
I walked down the road, heading towards the west. Soon enough, the city’s walls disappeared into the horizon, and the forest began to appear on both sides. Though I passed through some small villages on my journey, the outskirts of town were too remote to attract any merchants.
Everything I needed was available right here within the gates of the village, so I didn’t need to worry about bringing things with me. At this rate, I should reach my destination just before lunchtime, but first, there was something I had to do…
My goal today was the famous warlock known as Mr. Rufus. The man seemed to enjoy his solitude, but rumor had it that he spent several days each month teaching classes at a temple outside the main area of trade. Since this was a rural village, I doubted many students would attend his lessons.
On the other hand, Mr. Smith, whose wisdom surpassed Mr. Rufus’ ability alone, may have seen fit to deliver his sage advice to those unable to pay—or in short supply of money. But regardless of the answer, I did intend to ask him for guidance. To begin with, I needed to find out which time he taught.
When I arrived at the village, there wasn’t much open. Most of the homes and shops were closed, and the only thing moving was a pair of children who were kicking around an inflated ball. One of the kids dropped it, and then they ran off without picking it up—a pretty obvious sign that neither of them planned on doing any work today.
That made the little guy standing guard over the church in charge of maintaining order look terribly busy. He glared suspiciously at me as I approached.
“What are you looking for, traveler?” he asked.
The way he looked at me was similar to when I visited the mayor earlier and told her about the monster attacking our farm. There was no mistaking he thought I was trouble.
“I’m traveling around the region collecting information relating to magical beasts. Can you tell me where Mr. Rufus teaches classes?”
“…Didn’t think I’d love to see the day when I got questioned by another stranger.”
His comment showed he wasn’t thrilled about my request, but I nodded politely nonetheless. If anything, it was good practice.
“Do you know the whereabouts of a certain fellow named ‘Rufus’?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him. A long time ago, I worked at a school run by a magician.”
According to the guardsman, this village had once been home to two magicians. Was this a country without the concept of nobility? Not to mention the fact that Mr. Rufus had apparently come across with nothing more than the clothes on his back. Still, that didn’t mean every one of them was lowborn.
In other words, I should be able to expect better treatment from these folks than I might receive elsewhere.
After checking with the local authority, I set off to find the temple. While I was walking, a group of men stopped me and insisted I join them for tea. They were friends who happened to travel together, or so they claimed. After giving them directions, I moved on in search of the temple.
It was located a short distance away from the center of town. When I saw it, I could immediately guess why no one ever went there. From the looks of it, not even birds would bother flying past this place. Just like the guardsman had mentioned, there stood a ramshackle building, built solely for the purpose of housing a few monks and their incense-burning pot.
“Hello.”
One monk greeted me at the entrance. His face was wrinkled, and he looked rather tired despite being in the middle of the afternoon. No, perhaps more accurately described as exhausted. Upon closer inspection, I noticed the expression on his face closely resembled those I observed after having finished a large meal.
What he lacked in youth, however, he made up for in experience and knowledge.
“Hi, I’m sorry to barge in unannounced…”
He glanced over the old wooden doors, presumably questioning whether it was okay for a mere traveler such as myself to enter. This must’ve been how the locals reacted whenever anyone came knocking. And the reason behind it was simple: entering this temple meant handing your life over to its master.
You either became a monk or a corpse. That was why the other teacher—Mr. Smith—didn’t teach here. I’d go into more detail later, but he possessed the unique trait of immortality. As such, he was able to live on without issue even if he died, though others wouldn’t survive. Those who didn’t possess the same power were likely dead by now.
As the elderly monk wondered about my arrival, someone else appeared beside us. The person turned out to be none other than the man I sought.
“Well met, young sir,” Mr. Rufus said cheerfully. “Allow me to invite you inside. Please follow me.”
Even as the people who tried stopping me before, still stood watching in awe, I followed Mr. Rufus through the temple’s front door. Once we reached an inner room, I stopped in my tracks upon noticing something peculiar. Why was there a complete stranger seated there waiting for me?
The visitor sat perfectly upright in his chair, while his hands rested comfortably behind him. Only his eyes betrayed the slightest hint of agitation. Even so, I could tell right away he was a man who carried himself well. Like most magicians, he seemed to have naturally high levels of mana. As expected of a creature born under the sun of the north.
“You’re late, Mr. Yuuki.”
“…Sorry for making you wait.”
Noting my reluctance to sit down, Mr. Rufus sighed and motioned toward a nearby bench. I did as he instructed and took a seat next to Mr. Rufus. Then the former began explaining everything that transpired.
“A demon lord is approaching. However, despite searching for clues leading to its whereabouts, we can’t seem to track it down. Apparently, it’s hiding somewhere within the forest.”
Since I wasn’t interested in learning how to defeat the enemy, I quickly changed the subject.
“How often do demonic beasts attack here?”
My question instantly elicited a chorus of voices from the surrounding residents. All of them answered the same way, but each with varying degrees of confidence. One lady even commented she hadn’t seen any in her lifetime. But since demons frequently attacked, just knowing they existed probably didn’t mean much. Although it was reassuring to hear them all claim there weren’t any presently roaming the woods.
“Given the number of stories circulated throughout our land, I suppose you shouldn’t count yourself lucky simply because you haven’t encountered one yet,” Mr. Rufus offered.
It was clear that this incident involving Mr. Rufus was taking place years ago. If the people knew that monsters lived in their area, they wouldn’t leave their homes. On top of this, those living close to where Mr. Rufus had been murdered would never risk returning again.
According to him, this village had no choice but to accept a reduced lifestyle since it couldn’t attract new adventurers. Instead of raising their own children, the villagers raised animals instead. For better or worse, they were forced to sell off their souls to the devil every morning.
If I recalled correctly, the last time I visited was three hundred years past. During that particular occasion, I was unable to convince anyone to let me stay. Due to the circumstances, the residents believed themselves fortunate not to encounter a demonic beast in their lifetimes. Of course, now they wished otherwise. Perhaps I could save them from their misfortune…
In short, the residents felt so alone and powerless that it affected the way they viewed reality itself. Their resolve weakened considerably when dealing with matters far beyond their control. With that said, I had to admit I understood their concerns.
If someone told me about a certain incident occurring only a few decades earlier, I might’ve found myself wondering whether my life really mattered. Most importantly, I needed to keep my expectations low and tread carefully. A true king shouldn’t allow his ego to cloud his judgment.
Mr. Rufus went on to describe the details of how we’d arrived at this point in time. Since we already discussed these things, I decided against asking about our destination. After hearing what he had to say, I decided to voice my thoughts.
“I appreciate your explanation, Mr. Rufus. It truly does sound like a demon lord is headed toward this area. Will that be enough to make up for my delay?”
“Of course. Now that we know the truth, we’ll be able to move forward accordingly.”
There was nothing else I could ask for after seeing so many people come together for the sake of a common goal. Perhaps my initial misgivings stemmed from fear; but if the villagers were ready to accept help, then why should I worry? After all, my job was to defeat evil
. And thanks to Mr. Rufus’ assistance, I’d finally gained some direction.
While contemplating the future, a raucous commotion suddenly broke out outside the temple. Upon leaving, I noticed several warriors carrying bows on their backs. While they marched along the road, their heads lifted skyward, shouting what sounded like a war cry.
Then a group of soldiers dressed in dark green armor ran into view. They possessed swords and spears adorned with gold-plated scabbards. To top it off, a gaudy golden crown sat atop their headgear. Every single soldier was covered in blood and wounds.
The air vibrated with anger. This certainly looked serious, but was this the source of the disturbance? Or was there something else going on altogether?