["Blades have souls? What nonsense is that?"]

Nonsense.

Yes, that was what everyone had called it.

["You must have picked up some foolish notion somewhere. Don't let rumors like that distract you. Prepare for your next match. The entire steel city is chanting your name. A gladiator on the verge of becoming a 「sword expert」? It's a miracle. The whole Iron Kingdom will know who you are."]

A blade was nothing more than a blade.

A mere tool could never house a soul. Souls dwelled only in the bodies of the seven races created by the nine goddesses and seven chief gods. Only bodies of flesh and blood could harbor souls, and when those bodies died, their spirits returned to the gods. That was common knowledge.

["Tomorrow, you will enjoy an honor no gladiator in history has ever known. No one will be able to look down on gladiators as insignificant swords-for-hire anymore, or mock our duels as lowborn entertainment. You're going to change history, Tom."]

The gentle pats on his shoulder.

He could still vividly recall that touch.

Tom remembered the fervor of that day in his youth. Everyone had been brimming with anticipation, everyone had dreamed wonderful dreams, and everyone had looked to him alone. As a man and as a gladiator, he could have called it the greatest moment of his life. Yet why had he done it?

["I'm sorry."]

Tom had betrayed their expectations.

At that glorious moment everyone so desperately desired, when he could have shone his brightest, Tom had been looking elsewhere. At the darkest corner of the majestic circular arena. A shadowy place that smelled of musty mold. Display cases no one cared about. A place where rusty blades were laid out.

["That isn't the future I want."]

The Hall of Fame.

Tom's eyes had been fixed on that place alone.

Even at his most glorious moment.

* * *

When Haylin first told her about the “orc shaman,” Audrey thought the girl must have misunderstood something. A human who was friends with an orc shaman? Had her older sisters heard that, they would have clutched their bellies and howled with laughter, telling her not to make such ridiculous jokes.

So Audrey asked Haylin again and again whether it was really true.

Haylin nodded vigorously at every question, her expression suggesting she could not understand why Audrey refused to believe her.

Looking at Haylin's face, Audrey concluded that the young girl must be mistaken. Perhaps she had confused an ordinary human shaman with an orc, or taken a joke made by the descendant of steel as the truth.

Being “friends with an orc shaman” was that unrealistic. As a mage who had completed formal training, Audrey knew very well how difficult and bizarre shamans were. Shamans, who communicated with the spirit world and commanded countless spirits, were often even more eccentric than mages. And among those shamans, “orc shamans” were nothing short of walking disasters.

What sort of race were orcs? A race that challenged any enemy they encountered to a duel to the death on sight. Their brains were steeped in fighting. They settled every question of right and wrong through duels, a race for whom logic did not exist. From a mage's perspective, orcs were a barbaric race no different from monsters, an ignorant race that invariably resolved disputes through violence. That was why the words “orc” and “shaman” did not belong together.

Orcs were born with savagery, violence, and ignorance built into them. Shamans, meanwhile, were magical beings who had to act according to logic and reason, grounded in cool rationality.

Thus, an “orc shaman,” harboring two completely opposing natures at once, was inevitably an unpredictable calamity, an inscrutable being impossible to understand. Audrey still remembered the eccentric behavior of an orc shaman who had once visited the sisters. Despite being a shaman himself, he had mocked his fellow magic practitioners as mere conjurers. Despite being a shaman, he had beaten beasts to death with a crude axe, then drunk their blood and roared, “I am a mighty warrior!”... To witches, who despised barbarity, an orc shaman was utterly appalling.

Worse still, every last one of those “orc shamans” was powerful. For such savage, ignorant creatures to become magical beings, they needed spiritual gifts great enough to suppress their racial traits. As a result, orc shamans reigned as beings everyone avoided. They could not be reasoned with, spouted bizarre nonsense, and behaved outrageously. Say anything to them, and they would run wild, shouting, “I won't listen to anyone weaker than me!” And every one of them was so damn strong that there was no way to force them to listen, either...

And a human had befriended one of those lunatics? No matter how hard Audrey thought or how far she stretched her imagination, she simply could not picture it. Rather than argue further, she said she would have to see for herself, and Haylin readily offered to show her.

'Show me? Show me what?'

Half-convinced at best, Audrey followed Haylin to the vicinity of the estate's entrance. After walking there briskly, Haylin pointed at the ground.

"Here! The wardstones the young lord received from the orc elder are buried here. At the time, he said they were given to him when they became friends..."

Audrey's expression turned rather unenthusiastic. Wardstones? She had already sensed upon entering that wardstones imbued with shamanic magic protected this land. But how could mere wardstones be proof of friendship? Few magical items were easier to obtain. The witches themselves sold objects that protected a designated area at reasonable prices. She remembered orcs being much the same. She had seen orcs in need of money put them up for sale at peculiar prices several times. The descendant of steel might have bought such items and jokingly claimed he had received them from a friend.

"Haylin, receiving wardstones doesn't mean they're friends—"

"No, see for yourself."

But Haylin kept shaking her head despite Audrey's explanation. In the end, Audrey decided to personally teach this sheltered girl just how insane orcs were, and why one could never befriend an “orc shaman.” Before explaining, she would have to show her firsthand why that was so. Audrey closed her eyes and sensed the energy of the wardstones buried deep underground. The instant she sensed it, she gestured in the air, suffusing the surrounding space with her own spirit world. The wardstones immediately began to tremble.

"Fine. Let's see for ourselves."

As Audrey's demeanor changed, Haylin involuntarily shivered. The cheeky, petulant, troublesome girl was gone. In her place stood a witch. However numerous her shortcomings, a witch's magical abilities ranked among the finest on the continent.

With a single gesture, the witch Audrey drew out the shamanic energy contained in the wardstones. The moment she extracted it, she sent a mental signal to the stones' caster. It was a kind of invitation—an invitation bringing a distant magical being into her own spirit world. A little later, a mental signal of the same kind returned.

But then.

'... This one's no pushover.'

Audrey staggered briefly. Powerful though all orc shamans were, their average strength could not compare to that of witches. Witches trained in magic while communicating directly with the great Father of the Sky himself, after all. Yet the presence of the orc shaman she sensed now far surpassed the “average” Audrey knew.

As a chill crept up the back of her neck, a booming voice rang through Audrey's spirit world, loud enough to burst her eardrums.

「Why! Have you! Called me! You little human girl! Did I not! Let you pass without stopping you! I read the constellations and let you through because you would do no harm! Why are you pestering me when I'm busy!」

The moment she heard that thunderous voice, Audrey scowled. The voice alone was barbaric enough to make her head spin. Her temples were already throbbing. There was no doubt. It was an orc.

「Is your husband not satisfying you! Is that why you seek an orc? I may be vigorous! But I don't touch women who already have mates! Besides, I can't stand frail human women!」

"Haa..."

His manner of speech was vulgar beyond belief.

His lunatic attitude, calling the Father of the Sky—one of the seven chief gods—“your husband.” Everything about him that left her speechless was unmistakably orcish. Audrey abandoned threats about watching his tongue or fearing the heavens. Such threats did not work on orcs, whose brains were surely green as well. Orcs were the sort who would bellow with laughter whether they were struck by lightning or cast into Hell.

Not wanting to exchange many words with an orc, Audrey intended to ask her prepared question and quickly sever the mental connection with the shaman.

But then.

"... Huh."

The orc shaman invited into her spirit world.

The cackling green orc's face looked somehow familiar. Audrey furrowed her brow and asked,

"The guardian of the sacred land?"

「Oh! Human girl! You know this orc shaman, Sherdik?」

"... It would be stranger if I didn't."

Hearing Audrey's words, Haylin stood beside her with wide eyes. To a novice mage like her, everything was simply amazing. Not only had Audrey summoned an orc shaman merely by murmuring something before the wardstones, she even recognized the shaman she had summoned! Haylin thought that witches truly were different—the mages among mages.

While Haylin gazed at her with shining eyes, Audrey sighed and looked at the orc shaman who had appeared before her. The orc shaman Sherdik.

For anyone who studied the arcane, it would be stranger not to know this fellow.

"Guide of the Stars. Sherdik the Mad Shaman."

「Mad, you say. What a splendid nickname. Hurr-hurr-hurr.」

Audrey shook her head as Sherdik laughed, baring his tusks. Sherdik. One of the strongest even among the exceptionally powerful orc shamans. She did not know how the descendant of steel had obtained wardstones from such a towering figure, but this made her even more certain. There was no way that notorious lunatic had befriended the descendant of steel, who was merely a 「sword walker」.

So Audrey asked her question without a worry.

And then.

"I have something to ask. I heard you're friends with the descendant of steel... Arhan Caravan. Is that true?"

「Friends? Where did you hear such a thing?」

Upon hearing his answer, Audrey thought, Just as I expected.

「That hurts! The heir of steel and we are not merely friends, but close friends! The heir of steel, who proved himself a brave warrior and showed us his 'orcish' spirit! Is an honorary orc warrior!」

"...?"

That was what she had thought, at least, until she heard what followed.

「Has something happened to our friend? There was no trouble when I read the constellations! Speak at once! What has happened to my dear friend! Surely he hasn't died? That must not happen! I meant to pair him with my beautiful daughter, Sherijik!」

For some reason, Audrey felt her mind going blank.

'...???'

Completely and utterly.

* * *

With every movement, the boy's appearance changed.

The gypsy who danced as though she would pierce the world. The swordswoman. The blade that had been like a needle jutting sharply from blazing flames became an entirely different blade with a single turn of the boy's body. A lonely yet upright dagger that sought freedom. An assassin concealed in the shadows stood there. A sharpness emerged that had never been visible when Tom had only watched the dagger techniques performed in gladiatorial combat. This was not swordsmanship. In that short blade, he saw the life of someone now gone. His dreams, his romance, his convictions. The blood and sweat, tears, steel and flesh of a man who had struggled to achieve what he desired.

Next came a knight.

The steadfast, upright sword of a knight who resembled twilight.

Needle, Fang, Twilight, Wildness, Gale, and Lantern.

There were six swords there, and six souls that had departed this world. There were the lives of six people who had stood against the world until the very end. Lives that were gone now, yet had not faded.

"Ah."

By the time the sword dance ended, the sky had turned completely black. Night had fallen so deep that even moonlight and starlight could not dispel the darkness. With the chirping of insects ringing clear, the boy said nothing. Tom stared at him, dazed. At that moment, his eyes saw something other than the boy. His bygone youth, when he had cast aside glory and taken up worn antiques. The people who had all laughed at him, wounding his heart as they told him to stop being so pathetic.

The heart that had festered while he pretended to be fine.

The moments spent alone, cleaning and polishing blades though no one appreciated his work. The lives of gladiators he had studied by reading sentences surviving only in fragments. The days he had sat drinking in a dark room, agonizing over whether his choice had been wrong. The hours spent asking himself hundreds of times whether blades truly possessed souls.

"Ahh."

The boy still said nothing.

But words were unnecessary.

Tom realized that all his years had not been spent in vain. Who could witness that sight and still claim that swords had no souls? If what the boy had just displayed was not the soul of a sword, then what on earth was it? Tom felt something hot running down his cheeks. Before he had even noticed, he was crying. An old man's tears—how unbecoming. Yet the boy did not laugh at him.

Nor did Tom try to hide his tears.

"So there were souls."

Once again, the boy did not answer.

Beneath the moonlight, Tom continued.

"Why did you show this old man such a precious sight?"

"I ate every blade I brought from the Hall of Fame. When you asked me where those blades were, I couldn't answer, so I showed you this to tell you the truth. Those blades have all become one with me."

"Couldn't you have made some paltry excuse? Said you'd lost them, or sold them somewhere because you needed money... I would have understood that well enough. Everyone who attached great meaning to old blades is gone now, and caring for antiques has long been a subject of ridicule. If you had told me that, young lord, I would simply have smiled bitterly and said, 'I see.'"

"I didn't want to lie to a friend."

The boy smiled.

"That's all."

At that moment, Tom's heart beat with burning warmth.

The many years of the old man's life flashed past like a panorama. Difficult, lonely years. It felt as though every one of them had been rewarded. No words could describe how it felt to see with his own eyes that those years had not been wasted. Tom wondered whether the boy knew what he had felt, how profoundly grateful he was. He could not tell. Tom did not know how to see into another person's heart. Even the wisdom of age could not make that easy.

"Young lord, you cannot know how grateful I am."

People could not know what lay in another's heart unless it was expressed.

"Right now, I want to do anything for you. Truly anything. To be honest, I feel like stealing every blade in the Hall of Fame and bringing them to you. I want to see the souls dwelling in those blades with my own eyes and feel this thrill again. I want it desperately."

"..."

"But that is merely this old man's wish. Satisfying an old man's desires would be no expression of gratitude. To express my thanks, I must do something that helps you."

So Tom expressed what was in his heart.

"I've heard your tragic story. If this old man were a swordmaster, I would not hesitate to challenge Carlos, the swordmaster who destroyed your life, to a duel. To help my dear friend take his revenge. But my level is insignificant compared with the greatest swordsman on the continent."

"..."

"Besides, having heard your story, I know you don't need someone to take revenge in your stead. You need something that will sharpen the sword you wield. Something that will let you soar higher, don't you? 「Caravan」. Something that will strengthen the blood of steel flowing through your body."

"That's right."

"I will help you."

Tom, caretaker of the Hall of Fame.

He had never been so deeply moved since beginning this work. Yet as a “caretaker” whose duties amounted to tending old blades, there was little he could do to help the boy.

And so.

"My skills may be modest, but I will give you whatever help I can so that you may grow even a little stronger."

At that moment, Tom decided to stop being a caretaker for a while and return to his past.

"First, helping you unfurl your wings must be our most urgent task."

「Sword expert」.

"For this old man, that will not be difficult."

To become, once more, the legendary gladiator everyone had known decades ago.

"Truly."

* * *

Beneath the moonlight,

I could see the resolve in Tom's eyes.

「Hmm.」

All I'd meant to do was tell the truth, yet he had suddenly burst into tears and offered to help me. I wondered whether it was really something to be so moved by, but Master went ahead and voiced what I had only been thinking.

「What a fucking sweet deal.」

"..."

Agreed.