“I am none other than the great Spada’s ‘Sword King,’ King Leonhart Tristan Spada’s son, the rare hero who possesses the white holy sword, the black forbidden magic, and the all-knowing gray intellect, the reincarnation of the ancient Demon King, yes, it is I! Wilhart Tristan Spar!”
With arms spread wide, he proudly declared his name, a slim male student dressed in the uniform of the Royal Spada Academy, wearing a red cape that proved his status as an Executive Candidate, when a rusty iron dagger wielded by a goblin was swung at him.
“What!? No way!?”
Abandoning his introduction midway, the young Executive Candidate who would bear the future of Spada, Wilhart, dove into the ground in a fast somersault to evade with all his might.
As he rolled, his beloved monocle almost fell off, and while looking quite flustered as he adjusted it, he stood up and pointed at the goblin, roaring.
“You! To attack without hesitation while someone is introducing themselves, you uncouth barbarian!!”
“More of a monster than a barbarian, expecting etiquette is a foolish thing to do,” came a cool, beautiful voice from behind Wilhart.
The owner of that voice was a maid, impeccably dressed in a pure white apron dress, showing no signs of dirt even in the dense woods of northern Galahad.
Her light green hair was tied in a ponytail, and her mature beauty with aquamarine eyes might appear as a slightly older sister alongside Wilhart.
Perhaps it was her straightforward speech that indicated they had a friendly relationship as if they were siblings.
“Very well then, let your body teach you the manners of beautiful and noble combat, you barbarian warrior—”
“Just a goblin, you know.”
“Teach me the beautiful and noble art of battle!
For this Wilhart Tristan Spar, a rare hero who possesses the white holy sword, the black forbidden magic, and the all-knowing gray intellect, the reincarnation of the ancient Demon King!!?”
Once again, a haphazard slashing attack from the goblin targeted Wilhart, who had struck a pose while pointing.
And yet again, a desperate dive and somersault were performed for a full-effort escape.
With his Executive Candidate costume, symbolizing the glory of Spada, now tainted by the dirt, he stood up with a muddy movement.
“You! To make a cowardly surprise attack not once but twice… I will not forgive you! You shall not be forgiven!”
In response to Wilhart’s fiery declaration, the goblin also frothing at the mouth, became enraged.
“I will turn you into the rust of my holy sword! Come, you savage barbarian warrior!!”
Wilhart, drawing his silver shining holy silver sword from its scabbard at his waist, assumed a textbook pose, albeit a little awkward, facing the furious goblin.
In this moment, the world of earnest combat between men had begun for Wilhart, leaving no room for the unsophisticated encouragement of the maid to be heard.
“Haah, respond to my call, reveal your true form, ‘White Holy Sword’!”
“Just a ‘Holy Silver Sword,’ you know.”
“And take this! The secret martial art passed down through the Spada royal family, ‘Divine Annihilation Sword’!!”
“Just a ‘Flash,’ you know.”
The unsophisticated encouragement of the maid could not be heard! Wilhart focused, swinging his ordinary ‘Holy Silver Sword’ with the ‘Flash’ technique he had learned many times in class, aimed at the goblin charging at him.
Though the martial art displayed some degree of effectiveness, the overly clear and straightforward slash was not enough to surpass the goblin’s reflexes.
With swift, monkey-like agility, the goblin sidestepped the slash and attacked Wilhart with its rusty blade.
“You dodged it!? Noooooo!!”
From there, it devolved into a mud fight devoid of swordsmanship or martial arts.
“Humph, you were quite skilled, nameless barbarian warrior.”
So said Wilhart, sending words to the now prone and motionless goblin.
His fiery red hair, inherited from his father, was tousled and disheveled from rolling around to avoid attacks, with a small branch containing a green leaf caught in it.
His black blazer-type uniform and bright red cape looked muddy and stained with grass juice, a testament to the fierce battle with the goblin.
Having barely secured victory, Wilhart looked down at the vanquished foe with shining golden eyes.
“You really can struggle this much against a single goblin, as expected of you, Wil.”
With a cold light reflecting in her pale blue eyes, the maid congratulated her master Wilhart on his victory.
“Don’t praise me so, Celia, for I have not yet unleashed even half of my true power! Hah-hah-hah!!”
With both hands placed on his slim waist, Wilhart let out a loud laugh, his entire body still appearing quite dirty, leaving an image of a hard-fought battle.
However, considering the contrary to his father’s wild appearance, with his scholarly thin face, pale skin resembling that of a reclusive scholar, and a frame barely able to handle swinging a sword, Wilhart undeniably seemed like a studious student deserving praise for having triumphed over a single goblin.
In short, he had put forth a great effort.
“Now, shall we search for the remaining four goblins?”
In a deadpan manner, the maid Celia reported the progress of their quest to defeat five goblins and urged her master to proceed quickly.
“Indeed, this one was merely the weakest among the barbarian Four Heavenly Kings; the ones awaiting behind are the true terrifying warriors possessing the power of wicked weapons. We must not let our guard down.”
“If they are Four Heavenly Kings, then won’t one be left out?”
“Humph, the final one is to be the lord governing the barbarian Four Heavenly Kings, so to speak, the barbarian’s ‘Sword King,’ the dreaded tyrant of barbarism, the Barbarian King!”
Celia nodded, her green ponytail swaying in the breeze, maintaining her doll-like expression.
“Then let’s hurry, whether it’s the group of four goblins or the goblin general, please take down those four quickly.”
“No! It’s the barbarian Four Heavenly Kings and the Barbarian King!!”
“It seems there’s a nest over there, so let’s approach and search more closely.”
Celia whisked her long skirt of the apron dress and dashed up the mountain path, her movements light as if dancing on the wind.
“W-wait! Don’t leave behind the master with whom you’ve made a soul contract!!”
Wilhart hurriedly chased after the maid, who advanced rapidly, almost out of sight.
“This is strange; we should have come close to their nest by now, yet there’s not a trace of goblins.”
Celia suddenly stopped and quietly murmured such words.
“Hah…hah… Is that so? Certainly, I… cannot sense… the wicked aura unique to the Four Heavenly Kings…”
Leaning against a tree, Wilhart gasped for breath, giving a completely meaningless reply, unaware that he should focus on calming his breathing.
“It could mean the nest has either perished or moved, or perhaps they are in the midst of fighting—let’s take a look.”
“Eh, a-are we going already…?”
Celia, said to resemble a pitiable puppy with pleading eyes, indicated for a moment longer to rest, but the maid showed no intention of delaying her steps, walking lightly once more on the mountain path.
“I-I see… in that case, I shall release the seal of the Eternal Droplets created by the gods to become the foundation for my resurrection… heh, hehehe…”
Thus, while downing a fatigue-recovery potion (500 Klan) in small sips, Wilhart desperately followed to avoid losing sight of Celia.
Wilhart, resembling a specimen of bean sprouts, still managed to muster enough spirit to catch up to the back of the beautiful contrast of white and navy of Celia’s apron dress.
Celia had stopped, hiding in the bushes, and the surroundings showed no sign of monsters, leaving Wilhart puzzled as to why they had paused here.
It was inconceivable that this maid would wait for him; she showed no such care typical of a maid serving her master, which was precisely what Wilhart believed.
“Haah… what is it, stopping here… is there something—”
Celia quickly turned, and in an instant, her palm, now adorned with white silk formal gloves, covered Wilhart’s mouth.
“Mmmm!? Mmm, mmmm!! (Y-you!? You wouldn’t dare betray me!!)”
“Be quiet and look over there.”
Prompted by Celia, Wilhart peered into the thicket.
It appeared that just beyond the bushes was a cliff, and he could oversee an open grassy area below.
And that open place was recognized as one of the many goblin nests in northern Galahad.
It was clearly evident to anyone that crude structures resembling neither huts nor tents stood lined up, and around them, dozens of goblins overflowed.
“Hey, there’s someone there!?”
Wilhart noticed that within the goblin nest was a single man.
No, he couldn’t have missed it, as that man was surrounded by multiple goblins, and they were all glaring at him with hostility.
“Why is that apprentice mage all alone in a place like that!?”
Wilhart exclaimed naturally, knowing that when in a pinch, he would revert to his usual tone, while Celia did not show surprise or question him.
What was of greater concern was why, as he pointed out, the apprentice mage had ventured solo into a goblin den.
The simple black robe worn by the man seemed like an ordinary piece found everywhere, but as a student of the Royal Spada Academy, Wilhart recognized it as the required robe designated for apprentice mages.
In fact, he possessed one himself, so there was no way to mistake it.
“This is bad; we need to help soon, or it’ll be too late!”
“Even with Wil alone intervening against that many goblins, I can’t imagine it would make a difference.”
“Was I meant to be thrown in there by myself!?”
Forgetfulness of his grandiose speech, Wilhart conveyed urgency to the maid Celia in the face of the imminent danger threatening the life of the man, who he presumed was likely a fellow student from the same school.
“Please, Celia, help him!”
And most significantly, that man was a citizen of Spada.
As the son of King Leonhart, a royal, he couldn’t so easily abandon a citizen in peril.
At the very least, that’s how Wilhart felt in his heart.
“I can’t be of any help in a fight, but you could probably handle a hundred or two hundred goblins, so please, I promise to reward you with danger pay or whatever!”
Seeing Wilhart pleading desperately with a maid of lower status, Celia could only let out a small sigh and murmur.
“Honestly, you’re quite heroic in times like these, Wil—”
“Please!” clasping his hands together, without hesitation in submitting despite being of royal blood, the maid’s murmurs appeared to fall on deaf ears.
“Understood, let’s help him.”
“Oh, really!?”
“However—”
With confidence, Celia pointed towards the goblin nest below them and spoke.
“He shouldn’t need assistance.”
“Huh?”
Wilhart’s eyes widened, but the meaning of Celia’s words would soon come clear.
“N-no way!?”
In the apprentice mage’s hand now rested a sword, having appeared there without Wilhart’s notice.
Why was he equipped with a sword, despite being a mage?
No, witnessing the abnormality of the sword he held, such questions never even crossed his mind.
The sword, actually a broad-bladed ‘machete,’ was cloaked in a sinister red-black aura.
“What is that, a cursed weapon!?”
“Yes, that aura is unmistakably cursed.”
Even to the untrained eye, the malignant aura emanating from it left no room for other interpretations.
However, the man wielding the cursed machete showed no signs of the madness typically associated with cursed beings; he merely prepared the machete calmly.
His stance was different from the swordsmanship passed down through Spada, but even Wilhart, on the verge of failing in his swordsmanship grades, understood that it was assuredly expert.
“Could he actually use… a cursed weapon?”
That murmur wouldn’t reach the distant apprentice mage; nonetheless, responding to it, the man moved.
With a raised machete, he charged directly at the swarm of goblins closing in from all sides——
The sight that spread below was one which could only be described as a mountain of corpses.
Goblin bodies lay scattered everywhere, splattering blood and entrails, each mangled beyond recognition.
And the man who had created this hell with a single machete had long since vanished from the scene.
“Indeed, assistance was unnecessary,” Wilhart murmured softly as he recalled the battle that had just transpired.
Swarmed by goblins on all sides, the man, armed with only a machete, had slain them all one by one.
With a single swing of the machete, three goblins’ torsos, limbs, and heads were cleaved apart.
In contrast, not a single blade from the dozens of goblins had reached the man’s body.
It had become less a battle and more a one-sided slaughter, a massacre.
The man showed no signs of being driven mad by a curse; he simply continued each goblin’s slaughter with a cold demeanor, like a familiar methodically executing a simple task.
He was neither angry nor mad; however, that man’s figure was—
“A berserker.”
That title seemed the most fitting.
“Ha, he is the Black Nightmare Berserker!!”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, indeed!”
Such an arbitrary name had been concocted, but the man was already long gone, completely unaware of the two watching from hiding, making any protests pointless.
“Ten years prior, a tragedy stirred the heart of a kind-hearted apprentice mage into a madness of vengeance; that was later called the Red Night of Spada, a gruesome—”
“Surely, fabricating someone else’s past like that is questionable.”
Furthermore, an event called ‘The Red Night of Spada’ did not exist; at least Celia had never heard of it.
“Such incredible glory, such coolness; the Black Nightmare Berserker!”
“Have you just become high from witnessing that thrilling fight…”
With a heavy sigh, as if resigned to a troublesome situation, Celia was made to listen to Wilhart’s hastily crafted legends surrounding the Black Nightmare Berserker for almost the next thirty minutes.
It seems even in another world, there are those afflicted with Chuunibyou.