—Weitz Logun did not believe he was capable of living or dying like a proper person.
The world, for all its complexity, tends to drastically undervalue the word "average."
"Average" is a word used to mean ordinary, unremarkable, without distinction — but to those who exist beneath even that threshold, it represents a standard that lies above the clouds.
The ironblood city of Galrasia — that was the name of the hometown where Weitz had been born and raised.
It was a mad city where artisans forged steel day and night, pouring their efforts into crafting the weapons and armor used throughout the Empire, the tools of combat, all manner of instruments made for the purpose of hurting others.
Roughly half the residents were involved in the armament trade in some capacity, and Weitz was no exception. Though by the time he'd developed any awareness of the world, his parents were gone, and he'd been relegated to running errands in an artisan's workshop — he had neither interest in nor pride for such work.
He worked to eat. The only reason he was a chore-boy in the workshop was that he'd happened to be born in the ironblood city.
If the primary industry had been saddlery, he'd have helped make saddles. If it had been farming, he'd have held a plow.
Weitz, with no passion and no interest, silently did his work while the blacksmiths hammered steel around him. Some called him diligent, given his unsociable nature and inscrutable thoughts, but most people probably considered Weitz a creepy fellow whose true nature was impossible to gauge.
And Weitz didn't mind that at all. He had no desire to grow close to anyone.
He'd been alone since the day he was born, so being alone when he died was only natural.
It was this otherworldly, atomized way of living — this indifference toward other people — that must have earned him their hatred.
When suspicion arose that materials purchased by the workshop where he ran errands were being siphoned off, Weitz was the first person to draw accusing eyes.
He often acted alone, and he had absolutely no one in a relationship close enough to vouch for him. Weitz had no means to clear the suspicion cast upon him.
In the end, he could not prove his innocence, and Weitz was judged for a crime he hadn't committed — he became a convict. The first tattoo he received was the mark of that sentence, so that criminals could be identified at a glance.
From the elbow down on both arms — in a city perpetually shrouded in the heat of steel forging, where no one wore long sleeves — the tattoos were always on display.
Even if he wore long sleeves, it would be immediately obvious he had something to hide.
The moment he received the mark of a criminal, he could no longer live as he had before.
Life hadn't been luxurious before either, but it was then that he let go of "average."
He could no longer work at a properly run shop, and to earn his daily bread, Weitz turned to theft — stealing materials, fencing goods — until he'd become a genuine criminal.
In short, the crime caught up to him after the fact.
When he was suspected of fencing materials and no one would listen to his side, Weitz was not yet a criminal. But afterward, he inevitably became one.
It was a self-fulfilling prophecy — that was the shape of it.
"If I'm something loathsome, then so be it…"
Tattooed and branded a convict, his appearance deviating from "average" by anyone's standards. He committed crimes to earn his daily wages, and even so, he couldn't get along with anyone — same as before.
So he decided: he'd cut off every tiresome entanglement from the very start.
The tattoos that had only covered his forearms — from the elbows down — he now扩展 onto his shoulders, his chest, enlarging them himself. Eventually they spread across his upper body, down to his legs, and finally to his face and head.
The forearm tattoos were the mark of a criminal. But full-body tattoos were a mark of danger — a warning not to approach.
Everyone, be afraid. Get out of my way. The pathetic man who'd been abandoned by all and cast as a convict no longer existed. What remained was a troublesome "subhuman" who had nothing left to lose.
And therefore— "—Halt, criminal! Don't think you'll get off easy!"
Surrounded by city guards with weapons drawn, Weitz surrendered immediately.
Lying in a pool of blood at his feet was the man who — at the same workshop where Weitz had first become a convict — had worked as an apprentice blacksmith.
The man who was screaming through blood and tears, having had his ear torn off — he was the one behind the false accusation leveled at Weitz that day. Weitz had heard a rumor at a drinking gathering that the man had let it slip, and he'd taken his revenge.
Spitting the ear from his mouth, Weitz was seized by the guards and thrown into a cell.
As a known criminal in the ironblood city, Weitz was given no path to salvation. His sentence was decided swiftly: he would be sent as a criminal slave to the notorious Sword-Slave Island.
He accepted without the energy to resist. Without the will to fight back, he crossed the lake.
In that place, he was grouped with other wretched souls in similar straits and forced to participate in a ritual combat against terrifying magical beasts.
He didn't care what happened. He had absolutely no intention of dying.
Even if it meant sacrificing others, even if he had to cheat his way through — he would survive, and someday.
Someday, he would be treated as— "—Weitz! Take up your sword! You're our best hope!!"
—treated as "average." Treated like a human being.
△▼△▼△▼△ "Shield them…!"
The instant he saw the decapitated head of a guard tumbling through the air in a spray of blood, Weitz was already shoving Schwartz — who had been standing right beside him — into Tanzan's arms.
The kimono-clad girl possessed formidable physical strength despite her youthful appearance.
However, she had not yet learned to wield it properly. The disparity between her body's strength and her mental fortitude was vast — relying on her was far too precarious. But paired with Schwartz, it was a good match.
Schwartz was physically weak but mentally strong. He would be able to use Tanzan effectively.
So in that instant, shoving her into the arms of the physically powerful but mentally fragile Tanzan was the right call.
As for Weitz himself— "O-Ohhhhh…!!"
He sprinted forward, caught the hurtling guard's head with his raised arm, and smashed it against the corridor floor.
In one motion, he had decapitated an ally and kicked the head away — a shocking act that froze the thoughts of those around him. But Weitz sensed there was more to it than that.
In fact, the other four had hesitated by half a beat, but Weitz had been able to move.
A man that even Schwartz had been so wary of — his aim couldn't have been that simple.
And in the very next instant, Weitz's suspicion was confirmed.
"—!?"
Directly ahead, Weitz glared at the man advancing with an axe — and at that exact moment, a dark monstrous bird — a gladiatorial beast — smashed through the corridor wall and barreled in.
It shattered the wall half a step behind Weitz and tore through the upper-level corridor sideways.
An attack by a flying gladiatorial beast targeting Weitz and the others — no, that wasn't right. It was certainly a gladiatorial beast, but the bird wasn't after them.
"———!!"
The beast burst through the wall, and the target its beak pierced was the severed head of the guard lying on the floor.
It had come charging into the corridor after the guard's severed head. Weitz didn't understand the reason and had no time to think about it.
"I'll… hold you—!"
The tremendous impact that erupted half a step behind him — showered in wall fragments and the gladiatorial beast's razor-sharp wing wounds — Weitz gritted his teeth and refused to look away from the man.
A man whose killing intent only intensified upon hearing Schwartz's identity — dangerous.
Not the manufactured danger of Weitz's tattoos, but the real thing.
He had to stop it. Whatever it took.
"———"
Watching Weitz advance, the man narrowed his eyes with cruelty.
Without a word spoken, those eyes alone told you the man intended to kill. As the man raised his axe with his left arm, Weitz raised his left.
The arm where he'd first been tattooed, where he'd received the mark of a convict — the arm that had led him to this place.
Pouring everything he had into it, Weitz braced to receive the man's blow— "Gu, gi…!"
The axe swung without mercy, targeting Weitz's head from the left.
Weitz thrust his raised arm into its path, not vertical but horizontal, aligning his forearm with the axe's blade. At the moment of impact, his elbow bone shattered, and his upper arm and shoulder bones were crushed together with the flesh.
His vision went crimson from the shock and pain, his left arm turning a dark, bruised color entirely unlike the ink of his tattoos.
But— "I held… firm…"
It wasn't that he'd stood and waited — by stepping forward instead, he'd slightly diminished the axe's force.
That was the primary reason his skull wasn't crushed and his life wasn't ended. The abnormal tolerance for pain and the audacity to match had always been there, but he'd never possessed the judgment to go with them.
That combination of nerve and judgment had only come about because he'd met a child even more reckless than himself.
And so, that encounter had carried Weitz's arm to the man— "You didn't hold anything."
The instant Weitz's left arm was destroyed and he tried to pin the man down with his remaining right arm, the man vanished.
—No, the man hadn't vanished. He'd become invisible.
When something moves beyond the edge of your vision, it disappears into a dark, blurry space.
Something similar had happened. But it was wrong. Something was wrong — suddenly, the right side of Weitz's field of vision, where he couldn't see, seemed to expand all at once.
As if the right side of Weitz's vision had been crushed by something invisible.
"Weitz—!!"
With the man gone and no sign of him, someone called out to Weitz as he stood wrapped in unease.
Slowly, he turned to look behind him. The ruined corridor, billowing smoke. And there — the man who had vanished, his axe descending to cleave the neck of the monstrous bird that had broken through.
"———"
Beyond the man beheading the beast, four figures were visible atop the crumbling corridor.
Some had stumbled backward, some had fallen on their backsides, but all of them appeared to have escaped the bird's sudden interference. Weitz was mildly surprised at how relieved he felt.
Surprised, and gazing at them in a daze, he felt a strange desire to say something to them.
His left arm was in agony. Somehow, the right side of his face had started hurting too.
Pulling back consciousness that was beginning to fade — drawn by that pain, he murmured: "It was the first time… someone…"
"Weitz…!"
"Said they… believed in me…"
Murmuring, Weitz finally understood that what had been lodged in his chest — that was what it had been.
Understanding it, the strength left his legs, and he collapsed where he stood.
"Weitz—!!"
As his name was screamed at him once more with raw emotion, he closed his eyes.
Somehow, he felt rather good.
△▼△▼△▼△ As Subaru rushed toward the fallen Weitz, slender fingers caught him and held him back.
Turning around, he saw the kimono-clad girl's tear-streaked face shaking her head, refusing to allow Subaru's impulsive action.
And before he could shake those fingers free— "———!!"
A ghastly, ear-splitting croak rang out, and the corridor ceiling was crushed downward from above.
It came down over Weitz's prone body — the ceiling gave way with a thunderous roar, swallowing Weitz beneath it, and the floor gave out.
The collapsed corridor plunged to the floor below, and Subaru was forced to watch as Weitz and the enormous gray frog that had crushed the ceiling plummeted together into the abyss.
Weitz, who had taken an axe to his left arm and a knife strike to his right eye.
"Weitz—!!"
Subaru screamed, reaching out toward the collapsing floor and ceiling, toward the corridor as it plunged downward. Weitz had fallen. Weitz, who had jumped forward to protect them. He had to hurry — jump down quickly, go save Weitz.
"Good luck that the second one fell through too. Killing magical beasts is no small feat."
As Subaru's thoughts spiraled, Todd murmured — glancing sideways at the collapsed corridor.
At his feet lay the carcass of the massive black bird with its head severed — the magical beast that had charged into the corridor and been cut down by Todd's axe.
Everything had happened too fast to process.
What Todd had done, what had unfolded before his eyes — all of it. Until he finished sorting through those things, he couldn't think about anything else. He couldn't think about Weitz.
What had happened to Weitz, what state he was in — he couldn't think about it.
He couldn't think— "—Magical beasts eat the corpses of the ones whose horns you break."
"———"
Suddenly, axe resting on his shoulder, Todd said that.
Subaru, who still hadn't fully grasped the situation before him, and everyone else besides — they all held their breath at Todd's words and turned to face him.
Todd, meeting the gazes of all four, pointed at the carcass at his feet.
"When you break the horn, you can command the beast — but while it's being forced to obey, it must be building up quite a grudge. When the one commanding it dies, the beast eats the corpse out of spite. Nasty, isn't it?"
Shrugging, Todd explained the little-known ecology of magical beasts.
How he knew this, Subaru didn't want to learn, and the information itself wasn't the kind of thing that did you any good to know.
But it explained what had happened.
The reason the great bird had charged into the corridor was that the decapitated guard had been the one holding its broken horn — and Todd had known beforehand that the beast would go after the corpse.
He'd kicked the severed head away, knowing the bird would target it, and in doing so, drawn Subaru's group into the crossfire.
But that wasn't how it played out. Because, because, because.
Because—why— "Weitz."
"Guess he was the type who cared about his comrades, looking like that. —That's why he's dead."
"A—"
Todd's careful explanation of what had happened — so unlike Todd.
Todd's method was to give nothing, tell nothing, teach nothing — to kill without providing any information whatsoever. So why, now, was he chattering away?
He was telling, letting Subaru understand, redirecting his mind toward the next question.
The connection between the two dead guards and the beast that had charged in.
Once that was resolved, Subaru's thoughts would move on — to the next thing. To Weitz.
To the fact that Weitz was, beyond any hope of help, dead.
"A, aaaah—!!"
He shouldn't have died. Weitz shouldn't have died.
He shouldn't have tried to protect Subaru and the others. He shouldn't have stood up to this terrifying Todd. He shouldn't have defied this monster who killed on sight.
Because if he died here— "You've finally got a kid-like expression on your face."
The instant Weitz's death sank in, Subaru's mind was consumed by regret and panic.
Seeing that reaction, Todd smiled, satisfied, and raised his axe.
Todd's careful explanation had served one purpose: to help Subaru sort his thoughts.
Weitz's death — the one Subaru had subconsciously tried not to think about — forced him to face it head-on, to shatter his heart. To turn an incomprehensible enemy into a flesh-and-blood human being.
"Lord Schwartz—!"
Subaru was frozen in shock, still mentally unmoored. Hyacinthus and Idra were likewise unable to recover. But the one who moved ahead of all three was Tanzan.
Tanzan fixed her gaze on the advancing Todd, spread both arms wide, and placed herself in front of Subaru.
But Todd scowled at Tanzan's stance— "You're all over the place, you are."
"Huh?"
Standing before Tanzan, Todd dropped to one knee. Distracted by the motion, Tanzan didn't notice until Todd's arm shot between her legs — and he heaved upward.
In an instant, Tanzan's small body went airborne and was flung sideways — toward the gaping hole in the wall that the great bird had torn open, connecting to the outside.
"Oh—"
Even with physical abilities beyond a child's, one cannot defy gravity or the laws of physics. Naturally, her body was no heavier than an ordinary person's — Tanzan weighed as much as one small girl.
Reaching out instinctively, her slender fingertips grasped nothing, and her body was hurled over the island's edge.
"Go play."
Tanzan's body dropped into the void, her screams growing ever more distant below.
And just like that, with the one who'd stood in his path gone, no one remained between Todd's axe and Subaru.
"The Emperor's—"
"Hmm?"
"The Emperor's child! Are you insane?!"
Idra, his eyes bloodshot and his normally amiable features twisted with rage, screamed at the turning Todd.
His accusation — that Subaru was the Emperor Volakia's bastard son — was meant to shake Todd, who hadn't wavered even when confronted with that "lie."
But Todd's response to that accusation was simple.
—He swung his axe at Idra's head without a word.
"Whoaah!"
Idra, yanked backward by his clothes a hair's breadth before the axe split his skull, fell on his rear. The axe missed, and behind the wide-eyed Idra, Subaru — who had pulled him — frantically shook his head.
It was hopeless. Words wouldn't reach him. From the very start, this bluff had been a mistake.
Subaru had tried to lean on the easy option.
And that was why he'd ended up in this situation.
"You dodged that? My mistake, my mistake. However—"
Todd, resetting his stance, turned his gaze sideways with an exasperated look. There he saw Idra on his backside, and beside Subaru — Hyacinthus, camouflaged to match the surrounding scenery.
Merged with the broken floor and walls, Hyacinthus was practically invisible even if you were looking right at him.
But he hadn't moved at high speed.
"What's the point of disappearing right in front of me?"
"Suba—"
The moment Todd's eyes met Hyacinthus's and Hyacinthus flinched, his camouflage flickered.
The perfect blending with the environment, up until that point, crumpled like a fist closing on a painting — becoming something ugly and unwatchable.
And now, spattering from Hyacinthus, came red paint.
"———"
A single axe blow from the shoulder downward cleaved Hyacinthus nearly to the waist, and he collapsed. The camouflage dissolved from his gushing body, and the gray carcass of a lizardman toppled to the ground.
Weitz was dead. Tanzan had been thrown away. Hyacinthus was killed.
One after another, before Subaru's eyes.
And— "A, a duel… I challenge you…!"
Idra's trembling voice drew away from Hyacinthus's corpse as he rose to his feet.
Pointing a finger at the man who had just killed his comrade before his very eyes, Idra ground his teeth — his face red with fury, blue with terror, and white with a wandering, desperate pallor — as he glared at Todd.
The lie he'd told at the Sparka, to rally Subaru and the others and steel himself — a lie born of something that was, perhaps, an ideal.
Not Subaru's flimsy, convenient lie, but his own ideal carried under the name of deception.
"If you're a warrior too—"
Idra's perhaps-too-soon ideal was betrayed.
"Ha!"
"—!"
It was a fragile hope, no doubt, but Idra's challenge was desperate and earnest.
Todd silenced him with a shouted word, piercing the vulnerability in Idra's attempt at bravado. And into that opening, he drove his blade.
"Gah—"
"You're not a warrior. You're a soldier."
Idra dropped to his knees, his trembling hand reaching for his own throat. Todd's knife was embedded in the center of his windpipe, its sharp tip protruding from the back of his neck.
Idra's hand grasped the knife's handle, trying to pull it out — but before he could wrench it free, the axe descended and split his skull from above.
"A—"
Idra collapsed forward. Todd withdrew the knife from the body. The casually discarded corpses of Idra and Hyacinthus lay side by side like a nightmare.
Beyond them, Weitz's body was buried in the rubble of the collapsed corridor.
Tanzan hadn't returned — something must have happened to her after being dropped from such a height. Come to think of it, the frog that had fallen with Weitz was probably down there too.
If so, then Tanzan — and the sword-slaves of this island— "So, what about it, really?"
"Huh…?"
"Are you actually the Emperor's child?"
Todd, axe resting on his shoulder, looked down at Subaru, who sat hollow-eyed and slumped.
Having lost all his comrades and lacking even the will to run, Subaru realized he had been kept alive until he was the last one standing.
The lie Subaru had told — about being the Emperor's hidden child — had planted its seed firmly in Todd's mind.
Todd had seriously considered the possibility that Subaru was truly the Emperor's bastard.
"Then…"
"Hmm?"
"Why… don't you just… surrender or something? If I'm the Emperor's…"
If he'd considered the possibility that Subaru was the Emperor's son, then there should have been room to think over their plea.
Subaru had decided to go along with this plan, with Tanzan and the others' misunderstanding, because he believed it was the best way to rebuild his allies' morale — and because there had been a sliver of hope.
That Todd would choose to raise a white flag for survival rather than continue the killing.
But in the end, Subaru had lost all his comrades, and Todd held his life in his hands.
"Why, why won't you? What are you…"
"Surrendering and then getting killed with some convenient excuse? I'd lose that bet."
"———"
"Whether the story's true or not, it's always better to hear it when I've got the advantage. More room to think, fewer mistakes. —And, you know, it's reassuring."
That last reason — the way Todd said it as though it mattered most — made Subaru exhale.
It felt as though Todd had been strangling him this entire time.
"Whether you're the Emperor's bastard or not, it's an interesting name."
"N-Name…?"
"Natsuki Schwaltz — that's close to the name of a scary guy I know. And to boot, you smell just like that scary guy."
Todd sniffed quietly, regarding Subaru with cold eyes.
The thing about his smell — Subaru had been told the same thing during the first great massacre, when he learned Todd had arrived on Sword-Slave Island.
Smell — and at the mention of that, an uneasy premonition surfaced in Subaru's mind.
"You can sense the miasma?"
"Miasma? Oh no, no, don't get the wrong idea. It's literally your smell. Body odor. I've got a pretty good nose, that's all. So it's strange."
"———"
"—Do you have an older brother, or something? If you do, I might keep you alive as a bargaining chip for negotiating with him."
Denying Subaru's question, Todd continued with a startling proposition.
Keep you alive — words like those from Todd's mouth. And the "older brother" Todd was referring to was, most likely, none other than Subaru himself.
Todd thought the long-limbed Subaru was a sibling of the shorter one.
More than that, Todd might have suspected a connection to "Natsumi Schwaltz" — the name Subaru had used while disguised as a woman.
Either way, if the option of "not killing" had taken root in Todd's mind— "———"
The bodies of Weitz, Hyacinthus, and Idra lay right beside him.
If he closed his eyes, he could see the deaths of Gustav and Old Nuru as well. And beyond that, the corpses of all the many sword-slaves he'd encountered along the way.
Everyone. Everyone was dead. They had all died, and then— —And Subaru could not afford to die.
"…D-Do you know about my… big brother?"
Riding Todd's misunderstanding, Subaru shifted his consciousness toward steering the conversation.
If Todd was wary of the tall Subaru, then use that wariness to keep the small Subaru alive.
If he could navigate this— "—Hold on."
"Huh?"
Subaru opened his mouth, trying to arrange the words that would get him through this. But Todd's palm shot out and seized his face, and through the gaps between those fingers, Subaru could see Todd's eyes.
Todd had crouched down and grabbed Subaru's face, and his eyes were terrifyingly cold.
And— "—You were trying to manipulate me, weren't you?"
A dull thud, and a sharp sensation slid into his chest.
Feeling the coldness of that blade's tip with his insides, Subaru's eyes went wide. And half a beat later, pain so severe it made his limbs go numb exploded from the back of his head.
That massive scream — and Subaru's own mouth screamed too.
"Gyaa, giiii—!"
"My mistake, my mistake. Can't let your guard down for even a second."
A knife far too large was buried deep in Subaru's chest.
This wasn't a question of pulling it out or not — it was simply too large. It had sunk in. Whatever it had pierced inside him, whatever important thing lay within his chest — it was probably destroyed.
Blood foam bubbled from the corner of his mouth, red saliva spilling as his body trembled.
He coughed, and a red bundle fell from his mouth.
It didn't matter. That didn't matter anymore. Useless. He couldn't use it. He had to die — no, he couldn't die. Dying was bad. If he died, he'd be done for, no good, done— "Don't move."
Todd placed his foot on the abdomen of Subaru, who was writhing and trying to crawl away. To stop him. To keep him from escaping.
In that position, Todd raised his axe above Subaru.
The pain, the fear, the badness, the danger — everything, everything, he had to stop this red, this cold pain, this, this, had to, stop, stop— "Can't… die…"
"Ready, set—"
Subaru weakly raised his hands to shield his head. It was no use.
The descending axe blade crushed Subaru's hands, the skull beneath, and his life— △▼△▼△▼△ "—!"
His skull was split open and all his insides spilled out.
He felt as though he'd witnessed that terrifying spectacle, and Subaru's throat erupted in a scream. Trembling hands shot to his head — both palms touched his own skull.
Not split. His skull wasn't split, his chest didn't hurt, his life wasn't over — it was all there.
Confirming that, Subaru let out a sigh of relief and raised his head— "A—"
There — slowly turning toward him — was a man covered head to toe in tattoos.
His left arm was mangled by an axe, his right eye had been stabbed with a knife, and blood was streaming from him in staggering quantities — Weitz.
"It was the first time…"
Weitz's blood-smeared lips trembled, the words spilling out.
Seeing that, Subaru let out a pathetic, pitiful breath— "Said they… believed in me…"
"Aaaaaah—!!"
The feeble words fell from Weitz's lips as his body tilted sideways and collapsed.
No matter how he reached, no matter what he did, Weitz's body could never be saved now.
He shouldn't have died. Weitz shouldn't have died.
He shouldn't have let it become certain.
The starting point of
—Because when the time came that he truly, absolutely could not save someone, Natsuki Subaru's "heart" would break.