Vol 1 Chapter 3 – Hmph!!

“Hero?”

Men with unmistakably villainous faces stare at us.

Putting Alvarado aside, I’m clearly out of place.

It’s downright unnatural for an absurdly cute, beautiful girl to stroll into a place this dangerous.

Well, it’s not like I wanted to come here.

Honestly, I’d love to ditch the trembling human girl and run off somewhere else right now.

I hate fighting—it’s scary.

“What’s that? You telling fairy tales or something?”

“Idiot. Heroes do exist. This guy’s just a fake pretending to be one.”

“Cackle cackle”

Even while laughing like that, the bandits never drop their guard against Al.

That said, my presence keeps them from being too wary.

If I were a hulking, sweaty muscle-man, that wouldn’t have worked, but…

Being this beautiful and cute is practically a sin.

“…They’re calling me a fake right out of the gate—care to explain, Beloved Sword?”

“Don’t call me your ‘Beloved Sword.’ You never advertise your name, so nobody knows you. Plus the stuff you do is… well, pretty out there—nothing like the other heroes.”

Al never announces his name.

So no matter what he accomplishes, his name doesn’t spread.

Besides, most of what Al does isn’t the sort of thing that earns straightforward praise.

That’s why his name isn’t well-known.

By contrast, most other Holy-Sword wielders—the so-called heroes—are famous.

Al might be the least-known hero of them all.

…Well, I don’t acknowledge him, so technically he’s not a hero.

Hurry up and release me.

“I have no need for fame.”

“Not many people can toss it aside that casually, you know.”

How many people can truly say they don’t need fame?

Everyone has at least a little desire for recognition.

Al, who can discard it completely, truly embodies self-sacrifice.

The other Holy Swords would probably love someone like him.

I don’t, though.

“Oraaa!”

While I’m spacing out thinking about all this, a bandit lunges at Al.

The blade flashes, caked with blood.

Probably the residue of their earlier butchery.

Not that I care.

Yet even a seasoned killer’s strike must look clumsy to Al.

He dodges with ease.

“Hey, hey, hey! First you butt in, now you ignore us and chat like it’s fun? You mocking us?”

“Not at all. I always give my all—my all to kill evil.”

The atmosphere grows oppressively heavy.

Not physically—it’s the murderous intent radiating from Al.

The bandits’ faces twitch.

Ignoring them completely, Al summons me—the Holy Sword normally stored away in another space.

“Let’s go, Beloved Sword.”

Al strikes an exaggerated stance.

Bathed in sunlight, I gleam beautifully.

…If only there weren’t a huge chunk of rubble stuck on my tip, I might have been moved.

I watch the scene with dead-fish eyes.

“Bwuh—ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”

The bandits burst out laughing at the sight of me.

…Hey, who are you laughing at?

I don’t mind if they laugh at Al, but if they’re mocking me, that’s unforgivable.

They’ll have to be punished.

Well? Spit it out.

“What the hell is that stupid weapon!? Heh… my stomach hurts!”

Looks like they’re laughing at me.

Tears in their eyes, clutching their bellies.

Whoa, he’s a dead man.

Having that much fun? Good for you.

You can die while still feeling happy, then.

Go on, die! Let Al kill you!

“How’re you supposed to fight us with that thing? Some kind of fancy suicide?”

“If you hadn’t gotten in the way of us having fun with the girl, you wouldn’t be getting killed here. Go ahead and die blaming your past, stupid self.”

I feel a vein twitch in my temple.

These bandits are already doomed to execution.

They’ve done more than enough to deserve a brutal death.

And now they’ve added to their sins.

Ah, so they mocked Al too.

Yes, I’m aware I’m in no position to talk.

I make fun of Al all the time.

I even attack him viciously to vent my grudge.

Not that it ever works.

Even now, with the bandits mocking him, he looks perfectly calm.

Well, that’s just how he is.

No matter who insults him, he takes zero mental damage.

He’s got a steel psyche.

Still, unwilling as I am to admit it, he’s the man who currently owns me.

I haven’t accepted him, so he’s no hero, but…

It’s just wrong for anyone other than me to mock Al.

So I decide to give the go-ahead.

“Al.”

“Yeah?”

Al glances my way.

I give him a thumbs-up.

Then tilt it sideways—gesturing a throat-slit.

“Go get ’em.”

“Of course.”

His fighting spirit overflows.

Al’s always raring to go anyway…

Usually he’s nothing but trouble, but I’ll allow it this time.

These guys are evil, after all.

I don’t really care about human squabbles, but as a Holy Sword—well, a fragment of one—I suppose I could help the weak… maybe.

“Behold the holy light of me… and my Beloved Sword!”

Al hoists me high.

I marvel he can do that with that heavy chunk of rubble stuck on me.

His bombastic declaration even makes the bandits brace themselves.

“Huh? Nothing…?”

But nothing happens.

Of course—not when I haven’t acknowledged him. He can’t use my power.

The bandits drop their guard in disappointment—something you must never do in a fight.

That seals their fate.

Al is already standing before one bandit, me raised high.

And then…

“Hmph!!”

Instead of the blade, he smacks the bandit with the rubble attached to my tip.

“Bang!”

With a crack, the bandit’s head goes flying and he collapses.

…I know I egged him on, but what kind of fighting style is this?

No hero wields a Holy Sword like this!