[Day Four: Day of Awakening]
An adventurer party finds itself surrounded by monsters. A horde of drooling orcs attacks, overwhelming their defenses.
“Quit gawking! Fire your bolts!”
A broad-chested man roars at his timid companion. The younger man’s body trembles momentarily before he fires his crossbow with shaking hands. The bolt strikes an orc, drawing blood—but it’s a drop in the ocean.
“Tch!”
“Waaah!”
The veteran adventurer kicks the red-haired boy after clicking his tongue. As the boy tumbles, his “companions” use him as bait for their escape.
“—!”
Death. The primal certainty carves itself into his mind. I don’t want to die I don’t want to die—he thrashes desperately.
Scrambling up, he runs. There’s a slim gap in the encircling horde, but he won’t make it. He fires at an orc, hurls a smoke pellet to obscure vision—both he and the monsters are momentarily blinded.
Crouching low, he attempts to slip through memorized gaps in the orc formation.
But the smoke clears. Targeted again. Though he breaches the encirclement, monsters give chase while his former party races ahead without him.
No one will help. Run. Even if alone. Or die. His comrades’ backs grow ever distant. He reaches out—a futile gesture.
So he runs. Runs and runs, desperate to survive. Terror consumes him. A naturally timid boy pushed to extremes becomes even more cowardly.
“AAAAAAAAH!!!”
Then—he wakes. The vision was Tork’s memory from before he became known as “Sewer Rat.” The discomfort of sweat-drenched sheets greets his awakening. Panting, he touches his limbs to confirm he lives.
After rising from the inn’s bed and preparing himself, he steps out.
White-hot glares from patrons near the front desk remind him of yesterday—accidentally shooting another adventurer in the eye with an arrow. How instead of anger or scorn, he’d received… expectation. How the golden figure’s back had shone so brightly it erased his guilt.
He merely recalls this.
And realizes: his grievous error has spread city-wide. Fine. He accepts this as his deserved punishment.
Derisive voices surround him: disgrace, bottom-feeder—the words sting. Yet this is routine. He’s long accepted being the cowardly Sewer Rat.
This is who he is. Tork fastens the sword Fei gave him and heads dungeonward. Entering the guild invites even fiercer scorn.
“…You’ve got nerve showing up.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Who’d party with him now?”
Familiar words. Accepted words. They pierce nonetheless. Inevitable doesn’t mean painless.
“Here for the dungeon?”
“Yes…”
“And your party…?”
“Solo.”
“Understood.”
After reporting to guild clerk Marine, he descends alone—a first. No one will team with him now. Terror rises. But he must proceed.
Because someone expected more.
Reaching the second stratum, he scans for monsters, advancing cautiously.
Then—the sound of shifting earth. Not isolated, but multiplying.
Fifteen goblin variants emerge.
Bad. Tork tries retreating to snipe from range. He sprints, firing bolts while fleeing.
The shots miss. Fear makes his hands shake. The distance won’t widen. He keeps firing as his quiver empties.
Alone against multiple monsters—fear completely negates his normal capabilities.
Run run run. He reverts to the Sewer Rat. Fear dominates; only self-preservation remains.
Tunnel vision leaves flight as the sole option. So fixated on the goblins, he neglects his footing.
Another goblin bursts from the earth where he steps—his foot catches on the emerging mound. He falls.
(Run! Get up! Faster!!)
His supplies scatter: remaining bolts, money pouch… and—
(No time! Must ru—)
—Fei’s gifted sword.
At that moment, I felt as if time had stopped. A state of extreme concentration, which forces him to make a choice.
Flee without it—and forever remain the downward-gazing Sewer Rat. Live as a caged bird pretending it could soar. Choose a safe, empty life at this crossroads.
The cheap sword lies yards away. Retrieving it still means fleeing.
Replacements abound.
Just a sword.
Yet—
(Damn it… why… I…)
He finds himself grabbing it, forgetting to flee. Fear had nearly made him forget—the promise. The expectation.
Memory resurges: being entrusted this blade by his idol under sunset’s glow.
He advances toward the gilded horizon—perhaps marking his path’s end. His admiration superimposes, making that golden back shine brighter.
He doesn’t look back. Though Fei expected more from Tork, he’d never offer a helping hand or encouraging push.
Tork knows this. Their brief contact revealed Fei as someone who only faces forward, always advancing toward tomorrow.
The mental image of Fei fades, leaving only admiration and expectation. That should’ve sufficed.
Yet—his idol glances back. Impossible. Their eyes meet.
No words. Fei simply resumes walking ahead. Tork grips his sword, burning to catch up—to surpass that distant figure.
“RAAAAAAAAH!!!!!”
Howling, he unsheathes the sword and slashes wildly, felling one goblin.
(How pathetic—ready to quit despite his expectations! Disgraceful…!)
The terror remains. The dread of solo combat persists. Yet his hands stop shaking.
(More than monsters… more than fighting alone… turning away from that admiration terrifies me more. I won’t give up.)
Always mocked as an adventurer. Shunned by parties, insulted openly and behind his back.
He’d accepted the ridicule with smiles.
(But… no more. I want to become who he believed I could be!)
He swings. Runs to avoid encirclement. Years of fleeing built stamina. He weaves through the horde—their slight positional differences, their lack of coordinated intelligence.
Running and slashing, he cuts them down one by one.
If they come chasing after him running, it must be one at a time. He maneuvers himself by positioning and using individual differences so that not all monsters catch up to him at once, constantly forcing one-on-one encounters.
Sometimes he throws stones, throws sand to blind them, and cuts them with surprise attacks.
(I’ll change! I’ll fight through this! And I’ll catch up!)
Running, running, running, cutting, running, running, occasionally launching surprise attacks, repeating this over and over. Before he knows it, a pool of blood has formed, and he too becomes stained red with splattered blood.
(—Just one more left)
He runs, swings his sword, sends an arm flying. Throws sand, punches, kicks. And then, he strikes to crush the head.
“Haa, haa……”
The horde of monsters is gone now. He did this himself. Using close combat that was supposed to be his weakness. When he realized this, tears overflowed from his eyes.
He remembers himself being ridiculed, himself giving up. And Fei, who expressed expectations through his back. He recalls his admiration for him.
“Are they… all gone…? Did I… accomplish it…? Ah, uwaaa……uuuu”
He was brought back to reality by his victory. Now his heart fills with fear. But the current self who has overcome that is alive. He was genuinely excited about this. He was happy that he could reach out, even a little, toward that back.
Basking in the afterglow of victory, he alone sheds tears. Without making a sound, all by himself, he cried so as not to break the silence.
(Surely… I will meet… your expectations…)
The fear hasn’t disappeared, and there will probably be stumbling, despair at high walls, and falling down.
But the one who was called a sewer rat and constantly ridiculed was no longer there.
Diary
Name: Alicia
It was an incredible day from morning onward. First, I asked if Mordred had been moaning last night. She says there’s no way, but… I heard it though. Well, I was half-asleep so I can’t say for certain it’s impossible.
I was a bit taken aback by Mordred beating up Fei in training, but what shocked me even more was Fei’s glass eye surgery. I’ve heard that connecting the nerves causes extreme pain.
Moreover, digging out a crushed eye is clearly unbearable pain to begin with. Anybody should know that. It hurts me just watching…….
I know Fei is amazing. I’ll never say it out loud…… But that’s why I worry, thinking selfish things like “he’ll be fine because it’s him” or “he can handle it because it’s him”…… and burdening him.
I might be making Fei shoulder my tendency to get caught up in trouble. But deep down, I think that Fei will be fine, that no matter what happens, he won’t blame me.
That way, I protect myself in the safest place, making excuses like wanting to know Fei’s strength, and continue to let him bear everything. Fei would definitely say it’s fine, that I don’t need to feel obligated, that I shouldn’t sympathize on my own.
I…… just as I rely on him, I wish Fei would… rely on me too. I can’t stand it. Fei getting hurt……. Thinking this way is probably my ego and selfish thought.
…………While I was worrying about this, Mordred smacked me on the head again. She was exasperated, saying I’m too gloomy and asking how many times I’m going to worry about the same thing.
I’m exasperated with myself too. Despite thinking I shouldn’t mind, that I should change my mindset, I keep getting caught up on it. And then, I got smacked on the head again.
Even if I hit back, she’d just brush it off. I really hate her. But I hate her even more because I can’t ignore what she says.
I was reminded once again that, whether it’s about Fei or my goal to smack her, either way, I need to get stronger.
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Hmm, somehow today didn’t have many events. Well, the past three days were pretty packed, so maybe today is like a palate cleanser?
While having lunch after the glass eye surgery, there was a big commotion around us. When I wondered what was happening, they said the city’s highest faction was there.
Hmm…… that would be… Rhine and Barbara, right? I remember them because they helped me once. The city’s finest, huh.
Well, well, well, I kind of suspected it. After all, these two were entrusted with the important role of saving my life on the first day. There’s no way they could be mob characters when they saved the protagonist’s life.
So, they came here with about three companions. I thought it might be some event, but seeing as they didn’t interact with me…… is this like foreshadowing?
Is it like “For future events, we’re just introducing the characters for now?” kind of thing?
Once I realized that, I thought, that’s fine for now. We’ll interact eventually.
After that, I delved into a dungeon. But there was nothing at all. It just ended with defeating two hundred and fifty-six monsters.
Huh? I thought today was kind of mediocre. Just as I was heading back, I heard a really loud shout, so I wondered if something had happened, and then I found a pool of blood on the second level. This is…… blood from monsters.
……Is this some foreshadowing?
Like, some terrible monster was born here, or is here…… and eventually, whatever created this carnage will bare its fangs at the protagonist…….
No, but…… hmm, I’m pretty used to pools of blood by now…… so there’s not much surprise or freshness to it. It would be different if there were human corpses. But this is just a pool of monster blood.
Well, there’s no use worrying about it. I’ll just keep it in the back of my mind. Now then, tomorrow is our last day in the Free City. The day after tomorrow, I’ll have to go back to work as a Holy Knight.
Since it’s the last day, there’ll probably be a big event where blood spurts out of me.
I need to get to bed early to prepare for tomorrow!! Good night!!
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