Furthermore, while Alda and the other gods of this world weren’t friendly with Rodocolte, they also didn’t stand in opposition. They were essentially colleagues. Regardless of how hard Alda tended to ignore Rodocolte’s requests, he couldn’t believe the Reincarnation God would start sending in people from other worlds without even discussing it first.
He was overthinking. Plain and simple.
He had two far more pressing issues to focus on at the moment: Vandal, who continued to be an unpredictable wildcard, and the whereabouts of the fragment of the Demon King that had been unsealed. Alda put these issues at the top of his priorities and sent a Messenger out to call for Neinroad.
After leaving Alda and returning to his own divine realm, Fitun gave an ecstatic cry at having so skillfully deceived the other god.
“Hahaha! Things are finally getting interesting!” What a stroke of luck that he had been the first to notice this visitor from another world. He didn’t care that it had meant the death of one of his weaker followers. Indeed, he would have praised the fellow for letting Kanata kill him, to say it brought Fitun this wonderful information. “And I’m a genius for covering with the child of that pregnant woman, who actually did die in a monster attack around thirty years ago!” Fitun cackled. “Well then, Rodocolte! This Vandal, the one you so badly want to kill, is still very much alive! When will you send your next assassin?”
In the moment that Fitun had learned about Kanata’s presence on Ramda, he created a spiritual form from a piece of himself and observed Kanata in secret. As a result, he obtained information about Vandal that even Alda didn’t know. For example, that Vandal was the only possible one who could have broken the seal on the Demon King.
That was why Fitun was keeping this information to himself.
It was around 500 thousand years since Fitun had become a god. All these boring days were finally coming to an end.
“Now, my sweet little foe!” roared Fitun. “The one with the potential to end me—continue to build your power. And you, Rodocolte! No more trash like that last moron! I want you to send someone to this world worthy of my protection and my attention!” He burst out into unrestrained, relentless, thunderous laughter.
In the early morning, behind the General Store at the Seventh Pioneer Village, the party of adventurers comprising Kasim, Fester, and Zeno was training passionately together.
“Huhn, hah!”
“Fester, keep it down!”
“Ah, sorry.”
They had often trained like this in the past. They had become more serious about it, however, only a short while ago—after Vandal trained with them, upon visiting the village.
While Vandal had done all sorts of difficult-to-believe, miraculous things, the one thing that Kasim and the others found the most incredible was all the strength packed into his tiny body.
His Brawling Proficiency and Thrown Projectile Proficiency were levels higher than all three of them, and he had mastered multiple areas. His Brawling Proficiency in particular was about far more than reliance on incredible physical abilities; there was a range of techniques to complement it. To them, Vandal seemed like one of their training officers at the adventurers’ academy.
“I was in the zone again, remembering what he said. Keep my sides tucked in, watch where I put my feet.”
“Yeah, he said the sides thing to me too.”
“He told me I need more stamina.”
Vandal’s advice was on point. He sparred with each of them one-on-one, pointing out their issues while also not forgetting to say that he had had the same problems himself, indicating these three could also overcome these barriers.
“I wonder what his mom was like.”
“She must have been pretty amazing if she trained him in brawling and magic. Vampires are something else!”
The three of them had the completely wrong end of the stick. If they met Eleonora, they would probably make the same mistake as Princess Lebia.
“I wonder what Vandal is doing right now.”
“It’s been a week since he went to the town. He’s probably already taking classes at the adventurers’ academy by now.”
Kasim and his party hadn’t been adventurers for long, meaning Vandal was the first up-and-coming adventurer they had met entering the system behind them. They knew he was stronger than they were, of course, but it felt like they had gained a powerful younger brother. When they first met, he had seemed a bit prickly, but he was always friendly, strong but not arrogant with it.
“He reminds me of a cat, you know,” Fester said. “I bet he’s doing fine in the town.”
“A cat? If you’re talking about his claws, I’d say bear more than cat.”
“No, I mean, sometimes you see him staring off into space, looking at nothing at all. Cats do the same thing.”
“Ah, yeah. Good point. That’s kinda feline.”
Of course, Vandal wasn’t staring at nothing at all but rather at spirits that the three adventurers couldn’t see.
“Catty or otherwise, I wouldn’t be surprised if he skips the academy and gets raised to Grade D right away,” Kasim said. “He doesn’t just have unique skills—he’s got the magic and fighting abilities. He could be a frontliner, backliner, and even healer. I doubt the training officers at the academy would have anything to teach him.”
“He could probably teach them a thing or two!”
“Sure, but I doubt they’ll just make him Grade D. You know, there’s that exam.”
To reach Grade D, adventurers had to pass a test seeing whether or not the subject could kill another person. On Ramda, adventurers had to fight dangerous bandits or protect their charges from them. If they hesitated to kill during such encounters, their targets might escape, or the one they were meant to be protecting might be killed. That was unacceptable for adventurers. The only way to reach Grade D was to kill.