One thousand years ago, a monster appeared on the continent. Little was known about the creature, such as where it came from, why it was born, what it felt, what it wanted, or even if it had will or sentience in the first place. No one even knew if it was actually alive. The beast just appeared suddenly, without warning.
Some testimonies remained from the very few who had encountered the creature and survived. The monster was a few dozen meters in length. They said that it did not have a static form, but rather resembled living, shifting mud. It was the only one of its kind that had ever appeared in the world. Its body emitted toxins; acid that melted everything it touched oozed from the beast’s tentacles. Then it began attacking humans. It did not eat them or play with them. It simply killed for the sake of killing. It divided its own body, creating monsters to serve as its minions, and killed even more. This foul pestilence had no name, because there was no need to give it one. There was no other creature that could even occupy the same category. This monster was simply called the Evil God.
At the time, the continent was ruled by the great Eternal Empire of Rohanae. The empire dominated the whole world, but even after bringing the strength of its entire army to bear, it had been unable to defeat the Evil God. The nation was laid to waste, its royal line died out, and its towns and villages were razed to the ground.
Just as the people despaired, accepting that it was their fate to be destroyed, a Saint came to them. With a single flower as her only weapon, the Saint stood against the Evil God. She was the only one in the world who could fight it.
It was a long, long battle. Finally, the Saint chased the Evil God to the westernmost tip of the continent and defeated it. When she returned, the Saint said, The Evil God is not dead. One day, it will awaken from its slumber in the west and transform the world into a hell. And so she prophesied: When it reawakens, six Braves will appear to inherit my power, and they are destined to subdue the Evil God once more. She described how the crest of a six-petaled flower would appear on the bodies of the chosen warriors. And that is why they were called the Braves of the Six Flowers.
Twice the Evil God rose from its dormancy, and twice, six Braves appeared—just as had been foretold—and sealed it away once more.
To be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers, there was a condition: A Brave-to-be had to demonstrate his or her power at one of the temples to the Spirit of Fate that the Saint of the Single Flower had constructed. There were thirty of these temples across the continent. Easily more than ten thousand candidates would come from all over the land to demonstrate their strength at these temples. When the Evil God woke, the best six among them would receive the Crest of the Six Flowers. To be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers was the greatest honor for a warrior. They all dreamed of being chosen as one of the Braves, and Adlet was no exception.
Rumor held that the Evil God’s resurrection was nigh. Over the past few years, a number of omens had been observed. It could happen as late as the end of the year or as soon as the very next day.
✦ ✦ ✦
“……I regret my actions. I accept that I’ve done wrong.” It was three days after the semifinal match of the tournament, and Adlet was imprisoned in a jail for the most heinous of criminals. The high chancellor stood on the other side of the bars, a sour look on his face.
Adlet was seriously injured. His head, shoulders, and both legs were wrapped in bandages, and his right arm hung in a sling. Even Adlet couldn’t have escaped unscathed when so outnumbered. He took a seat on the cold bed, faced the high chancellor in front of his cell, and spoke. “Just so you know, I did want to enter the tournament legitimately. But there were these rules and stuff, and they just wouldn’t let me into the arena,” he grumbled. The Tournament Before the Divine had rules. The weapons allowed were limited, permissible tactics were restricted, and foul play or attempts to catch one’s opponent by surprise were forbidden. Had he followed the rules, Adlet would have been useless. “As you know, I’m the strongest man in the world, but those rules kinda cramped my style. So I had no choice but to ignore them and invite myself in.”
“What is your goal?” demanded the high chancellor.
“Duh. To be chosen as one of the Braves of the Six Flowers.”
“A Brave? You? A scoundrel like you, chosen as one of the honorable Braves of the Six Flowers?”
“Oh, I’ll be chosen. Of course I will. ’Cause I’m the strongest man in the world.” Adlet smiled, and the high chancellor struck the iron bars. This old guy sure lacks self-control , thought Adlet.
“You feel no remorse at all!” the old man accused.
“Yes, I do. I really do. I injured a lot of people, like the soldiers in your personal guard and the royal guard.”
“And how do you feel about having made a mess of this sacred tournament?”
“What does that matter?”
The high chancellor emitted an incomprehensible sound and drew his sword. His bodyguards desperately restrained him as he attempted to pry open the lock of Adlet’s cell. “Listen, you! You’ll stay in here forever! You’re headed for the noose! Absolutely!” With his soldiers escorting him, the high chancellor exited the jail.
Adlet sprawled out on the bed and shrugged as if to say, What a mess.
He remembered his confrontation with the old knight and the mercenary three days earlier. Both had been terrifyingly strong. If Adlet had made even one wrong move, he would most likely have lost. But he’d still managed to pull off a victory. It hadn’t been a pretty fight, but still, he had won. That was proof enough that he was the strongest man in the world.
“Now that I think of it, that was the only letdown,” Adlet muttered as he rolled around on his bunk. He was thinking about Princess Nashetania—Nashetania Rouie Piena Augustra, the crown princess of the Land of Bountiful Fields, Piena. She was of noble birth, first in line to inherit the crown, and also the strongest warrior in Piena. He had heard she was a Saint, wielding power she had received from the Spirit of Blades, and capable of conjuring blades from thin air at will. Nashetania had been the victor of the sacred tournament the previous year. The winner of the match that Adlet had interrupted would have competed with her in the final round. Adlet had wanted to battle Nashetania. Even if he couldn’t fight her, he’d at least wanted to see her face. He’d figured that if he defeated the two men, with any luck, she might have turned up. But in the end, she was a no-show. Well, it doesn’t really matter, anyway , he thought, yawning.
“Oh. I found you.” Just then, a voice addressed him from the other side of the bars. The person standing there looked out of place in the somber prison.
“Who’re you?” asked Adlet.
The maiden was beautiful and blond with a wonderful, soothing smile. She wore a maid’s black uniform, but it didn’t suit her. It would have been more fitting on a plainer girl. “You’re Adlet, right? Pardon me, but could you come over here?” His visitor beckoned him to come close.
Confused, Adlet got up, moving toward the bars. When he approached her, a sweet smell like apples wafted toward him. It was a pleasant, enchanting scent that he had never smelled before.
“Please, shake my hand.” Suddenly, the girl passed her hand through the space between the bars.
“Huh?”
“I apologize for the sudden intrusion. You put on such a show in that fight three days ago. It left quite an impression on me. You’ve made me a fan.”
“…Huh? What?” The girl’s scent had melted all the circuits in his brain, and that was all the reply he could muster.
“Please shake my hand. Come on.”
Adlet did as he was told and lightly grasped the hand she extended. It was so soft, he marveled that such suppleness could even exist.
Lightly pressing her palm in his, the girl said, “You’re really anxious, aren’t you, Adlet? Is this perhaps the first time you’ve ever held a girl’s hand?” She covered her mouth as she gave him a mean smile.
Adlet panicked and released her hand. “Wh-what’re you talking about? I’m totally calm. I’ve held girls’ hands lots of times.”
His guest giggled. “You’re blushing.”
When she laughed, it felt like the apple scent she exuded became even stronger. Adlet looked away, covering his flushed cheeks.
“You’re such a great fighter, but you can’t handle girls?” she teased.
“Come on. Adlet Mayer is the strongest man in the world. There’s nothing the strongest man in the world can’t handle.”
“I’m glad I came down here. You really are interesting.” She laughed. “I want to know more about you. Can we talk?”
Adlet nodded. The apple-scented girl gave him a mischievous smile. Suddenly, Adlet realized that he still hadn’t asked her name.