Ruijerd was in the middle of a meal. His house was very tidy. Calling it spotless would be going a bit far, but you could tell it was cleaned every day. Ruijerd wasn’t the type to leave stuff lying around, but he also wasn’t the type to be bothered by dust building up in corners and around the windows. Even those places were clean at this point in time.
Of course, his inexperience showed through a touch. If my little sister Aisha, who worked as a maid, saw it, she’d exclaim, “Good grief! You call this cleaning?” Okay, maybe not. If she saw such dusty windowsills, though, she’d roll her eyes with a sigh and say something like “You can’t even clean?” I was pretty sure I’d seen that sort of scene play out when Linia was working for us as a maid.
Lightning round! Who’s the mastermind behind this not-perfectly clean room?
Bzzt!
Ooh, getting in quick! Well, Rudeus?
She’s there beside Ruijerd, serving up something that looks kind of like rice soup into bowls—Norny Greyrat!
That’s right! You win a Roxy doll, Rudeus!
Yippee!
Norn was there beside Ruijerd, looking a bit taken aback to see us. I guess she was surprised to have us all troop in while they were eating. Anyway, let’s not think too hard about why for now.
“What is it? Did something happen?” Ruijerd asked, looking questioningly at us.
“Mm, well, first of all—this gentleman says he’d like to properly introduce himself to you.”
I gestured my palm toward Sandor, who stood up straight.
“I am Sandor von Grandeur, formerly known as the Second North God Alex Rybak! Master Ruijerd Superdia, I can’t tell you what an honor it is to meet the legendary hero who brought about victory in the Laplace War! At your service!”
He was a bundle of nerves. Unthinkable when you compared it to his usual nonchalance. I guess that made sense. From his point of view, the warriors who made it through the Laplace War would be legends of his parent’s generation. I didn’t really get it, but presumably it was a bit like the legendary older gang members in delinquent manga who’d once achieved national domination. As the boss of a gang who rose to the top in a time of relative peace, he’d have to bow down to the great achievements of those guys.
“…On behalf of the Superd warriors, I thank you for your aid in the battle.”
Ruijerd was a polite guy. He bowed, as though it was something he’d forgotten to do earlier.
“Oh no, please raise your head!” Sandor hastened to say. Bowing to each other like that, they practically looked Japanese.
Eris, meanwhile, promptly took a seat and had Norn serve her up some of the rice soup. She was bound to be hungry after all that exercise. She started chowing down, no holds barred. It looked like she was enjoying it. Norn put a bowl in front of me, so I went with it and started to eat. It was a solid effort. Not out-of-this-world delicious, but I doubt I could do better. Wait. Scratch that, I could do a little better… It was good enough to make me waffle on that point, and that was a mark of progress.
“This is great!”
“Thank you.”
“Did you make it, Norn?”
“Yes.”
Overhearing this exchange, I took another look at my soup. Would you believe it? This was Norn’s cooking! When had she picked up advanced cooking techniques?
Part of me thought that, anyway, but I had to acknowledge that Norn had become a grown girl. This world had homemaker training, just like back in my world. She would know how to cook, at least. Understanding how far she’d come, it suddenly tasted amazing. Little by little, Norn was growing up. It warmed a big brother’s heart to see it. Those feelings were like a spice that amplified the flavor of the soup ten, even a hundred times over. This was basically a drug.
Back on topic.
“Anyway, Ruijerd, I brought Sandor here along because he has something he’d like to ask you about.”
“He wants to ask me something?”
“Yes. Only, you might not want to talk about it.” With that out of the way, I told Ruijerd what this was all about. I told him about Sandor’s fanatical respect for him…for the whole team that brought down Laplace, and how he wanted the full picture of how that fight had gone. I also dropped in some stuff about how Sandor’s father, North God Kalman (the first one) had died in that fight, and now his son, Sandor, wanted to pin down how he had really died and, if called for, take revenge. Plus how he couldn’t even talk about his life up till now without weeping.
“Rudeus.”
“Yes?”
“Why are you telling such lies?”
“Er. I just, I got carried away…” It was common knowledge that North God Kalman had survived the battle with Demon God Laplace. Afterward, he’d infiltrated Demon King Atofe’s abode alone, cursed her, then married her. Later still, he’d journeyed around the world and finally died in the King Dragon Mountains.
“Heh. You never change, do you?”
If a sleazy guy like me had lied to the old Ruijerd, he might have gone ballistic. Now he understood I was joking. I guess he really trusted me.
“Well, maybe Sandor’s reasons for wanting to know aren’t as grand as all that, but if it’s all right with you, I hope you’ll talk to him.”
“It’s nothing special,” Ruijerd qualified. Then, he began his tale.
The curse of the spear lifted from Ruijerd, only for him to fall under another curse. The curse of vengeance. Driven on by that curse, he made haste to Laplace only to find when he arrived that the final battle had already begun. It was almost concluded when he’d gotten there.
North God Kalman was down, and Perugius’s twelve familiars had all been snuffed out save one. Perugius himself was on his knees, heavily wounded. Only Urupen fought valiantly on, but it was clear that Laplace was overpowering him. Laplace, by comparison, was tired, but he still had fight left in him. Even in the face of this, Ruijerd kept cool. Laplace had deceived the Superd and driven them nearly to extinction, but Ruijerd set aside his hatred and closely observed his opponent. Laplace was strong, but Ruijerd had some vague knowledge of the three combatants. Back when he’d been in his right mind, he’d crossed swords many times with North God Kalman and Dragon God Urupen. Both were powerful fighters. Urupen was so strong that even Ruijerd had no hope of beating him. The skyfolk woman beside Perugius looked like a fighter of some skill, too.
Despite all that, Laplace was going strong. He was tired, but he could still fight. If Ruijerd lashed out in anger, he might fail. So he observed Laplace, looking for an opening where he could be sure to end him—when he found something in Laplace’s body. The something raced around inside him. Ruijerd didn’t know what it was, but with instincts born of long experience, he guessed that it was Laplace’s weak point. There was no time to confirm his guess. Laplace attacked to finish off Perugius only for Urupen to come between them and take the blow. It would prove fatal. Victory was now hopeless. Laplace smiled triumphantly.
That moment, Ruijerd snuck up behind him and struck. His target was the something he had sensed. The result was sensational. Right away, Laplace was racked with pain and, in a blind rage, he hit back at Ruijerd. He didn’t die at once, but something had changed.
Ruijerd could do no more. Laplace overpowered him. His Demon Eye dulled Ruijerd’s movement, his fist broke through his guard to break bone, and he easily brushed off Ruijerd’s attacks. Laplace shut him down, beating Ruijerd to a pulp as though he were a child. Thinking he was finished, Ruijerd threw himself at Laplace in a desperate, suicidal attack. Just then, the ground glowed. Blue-white light lit up their surroundings: it was a magic circle. Ruijerd looked and saw Urupen with both his hands on the ground, chanting something.
Laplace cried, “It can’t be!” as the magic circle blazed with light. Ruijerd was blinded. Even then, his third Superd eye saw Laplace’s body and mana tear apart and scatter. His ears caught Laplace’s dying scream.
“Don’t think that was enough to kill me! Man…! Man…! I’ll kill you! I’ll destroy you! Just wait, you damn bastard, I’ll…”
Those were Laplace’s final words.
“I don’t know exactly what that technique was.”
“It’s called Draconic Remnant! The spell Sir Perugius revived from the ancient tomes to use against Laplace in the final battle!”
“Is that so?”
Yet another teenage edgelord name. Maybe the dragonfolk just couldn’t be content unless they gave all their techniques names like that. Not that I had something against them myself.
“Well, now, so it did get used in the end… It was Sir Urupen who cast it… Ah, of course, it must have been setting off the spell that led to Sir Urupen’s death so soon after that final battle… I’m sure the plan was for the task of setting it off to fall to Perugius… So, yes, of course, Sir Perugius won’t speak of it. He’s ashamed that he let them down. Perhaps he sees himself as having murdered Sir Urupen… Yes, it’s all come together…!”
Sandor was satisfied. He was muttering to himself like an otaku. That was a bit scary. It reminded me of myself in my former life. There were still some holes in my understanding after the story, but as far as I could tell this was the gist: Perugius had been supposed to use this technique in the final showdown but couldn’t because Laplace knocked the crap out of him. On top of that, Urupen had taken a hit for him, then on top of that Urupen had activated the magic circle and passed away suddenly as a result.