Chapter 44 : The Heaviest Thing in the World (3)
Chapter 44: The Heaviest Thing in the World (3)
It was the sword that Teran had perfected over a lifetime.
If one were to pass it on to someone, there was only one criterion that truly mattered.
Can they master it perfectly?
Moritz could be said to match that criterion perfectly.
Her genius was remarkable, even when compared to Hindir’s previous life.
Moreover, the answer to the question had confirmed it.
Moritz was the sword incarnate.
‘Perhaps it was fortunate that Dardiom brought her out.’
She might have lived well within a noble family, but… considering her temperament, that would have been difficult.
One way or another, the moment would have come when she grasped a sword and became drenched in blood—and Dardiom had taken her out and placed a sword in her hand, leading her down the path of a swordsman.
“What’s this?”
Moritz asked as she looked at what Hindir handed over.
“You’ll know the moment you see it.”
Tilting her head, she took it cautiously and unfolded it.
There was no change in her expression.
But she remained silent for a long time, only her eyes moving busily.
Just as Hindir had said, she didn’t bother asking about the content.
Instinctively, she knew that this was what Dardiom had so earnestly sought, and that it was the key to perfecting her incomplete sword.
Hindir quietly stood and headed outside.
Moritz, as if entranced, didn’t even notice Hindir leaving.
Just before gently closing the door, Hindir smiled at the sight of her fully immersed.
‘If Teran had seen this, he would’ve been delighted.’
Though he sometimes showed a reckless side when mingling with the Charun, he was undeniably one of the greatest swordsmen of his time.
And he had always been extremely strict about skill.
The fact that he was influenced by the Charun meant that Orcus and the Charun’s strength was no lie.
There had been a passing conversation in the past about why he never took on disciples.
—No one ever satisfied me.
If Dardiom really were a descendant of Teran or a branch that inherited his swordsmanship… then in the end, it was no different from saying no one ever truly satisfied him.
‘I’ll keep a close watch.’
Hindir took his steps as he already sensed the mana surging behind the door.
“Huh? Brother. What brings you here?”
Duar, who had just been climbing the stairs with a tray of food.
“I had something to discuss with Moritz.”
“Ah—so you came to apologize for beating her up too harshly earlier. She was completely covered in blood… but why did you yank out her hair?”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Ah, right. Anyway, is it okay to go in now? This is the General’s meal.”
Hindir glanced down at the dining area below, then looked at the tray Duar was holding.
The amount was unusual—it was questionable whether anyone could eat all that.
“You bring it every time?”
“Haha, normally she comes down and waits when it’s time to eat, but today she didn’t, so I brought it up. She has moments like this now and then.”
It didn’t seem like Moritz had explicitly asked for it…
It was obvious Duar had gotten scared and was acting on his own again.
“Let’s take it back down. She won’t be eating now anyway. Better to leave her alone until she comes out on her own.”
“How badly did you beat her…?”
“……”
“…Right.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No.”
“Then eat with me.”
Just as they were about to go down and start eating, a woman suddenly burst through the door.
“Huh?”
Duar tilted his head at the unfamiliar face—he’d never seen her around Choranchai.
She looked kind of beautiful… but her appearance was unmistakably that of a beggar.
“Who are you?”
But instead of answering, the woman briefly glanced at Duar, strode straight over, plopped down across from Hindir, and began devouring the food.
“W-what the hell is this crazy woman doing?!”
Startled, Duar shouted in disbelief.
“It’s fine. Let’s just eat.”
As Hindir calmed him, Duar looked back and forth between the two and asked,
“Do you know her?”
“Yeah. Don’t mind her and dig in.”
“She looks like a beggar though…”
The woman who had just been called a beggar was none other than the Lady of Parno.
She could have been furious at that insult, but instead, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction that she didn’t seem like someone from Parno.
“Mm… I’ll eat later.”
Losing his appetite from the sight of her scarfing down food, Duar eventually retreated in defeat.
She looked completely deranged—it didn’t seem wise to get involved.
Swoosh—
Just before stepping into the kitchen, he glanced back and saw the Lady of Parno already chugging from a bottle.
Hindir, seated across from her, was also drinking—but from a glass… A bizarre image: someone shirtless and wearing animal pelts, yet still exuding refinement.
“So. Have you made up your mind?”
Once the Lady of Parno seemed full, Hindir asked.
A few days earlier, Hindir had told her that he could provide her with a place to sleep and food, but everything else was up to her.
Since then, she hadn’t shown herself.
She understood that what Hindir had said meant she would become part of Choranchai.
It wasn’t forced, and Hindir had said he had no intention of pushing it, but when you received something, it was only natural to give something in return—such was the rule of the world.
He had sensed her presence from time to time near Choranchai, so he knew she hadn’t left entirely.
He had thought she was still torn…
But seeing her suddenly appear and devour food—it was clear she’d been starving all along.
“…I tried to manage on my own, but it wasn’t easy.”
For the first time, she showed a hint of embarrassment, unlike her usual wild demeanor.
It was an honest confession—so much so that Hindir was a little surprised.
“I have strength, but I can’t find animals, and even when I barely catch one, I don’t know what to do with it. Trying to make a fire, all the wood was wet, and it wouldn’t light. Everything was just unbearably frustrating.”
“…Sounds like you had a rough time.”
At her lament-like words, Hindir could only reply with some embarrassment.
“On top of that, I wanted to wash up, but there wasn’t a single stream of running water. What am I supposed to do? My life has already been this miserable—and now even the world refuses to help me.”
“……”
“But it was new. I’ve never experienced such hardship before.”
“So? What are you going to do about it?”
“…I’ll do as you said. What should I do?”
In the end, she made her decision.
“Duar.”
“Y-yes!”
Duar, who had been secretly listening in, jumped out in surprise.
“Do you need something more?”
“That restaurant you’re opening. Do you have staff?”
“Uh… not yet.”
“What about this person?”
“Excuse me?”
“What?”
Startled replies came from both sides.
“Ahem… I may have been a bandit, but when it comes to cooking, I’m meticulous about hygiene…”
Seeing Duar’s roundabout refusal, the Lady of Parno’s face twisted.
Not only was it insulting that they wanted to make her a worker, but to be rejected on top of that?
But she quickly swallowed her anger.
Since impulsively leaving her family, how harsh had her days been?
At the very least, this would be better—and she also wanted to try a completely different life.
“If the owner doesn’t want me, I have nothing to say?”
At Hindir’s question, she shut her eyes tight and finally opened her mouth.
“I just haven’t been able to wash, that’s all. I’m quite sensitive about cleanliness myself.”
But even then, Duar looked troubled.
“And… I don’t think she fits with the kind of restaurant I’m trying to build. It’s supposed to be for real men…”
“Are you opening a brothel?”
Hindir asked with an incredulous expression.
He vaguely remembered Duar saying he’d use Hindir’s name to promote the place—but not like this.
“No! What are you saying?!”
Duar panicked and jumped back.
“No, it’s meant to be a restaurant for real men. A tavern for warriors, where true men come to eat, drink, and shout endlessly! A haven for warriors! …That kind of feel.”
Speechless, Hindir stared at Duar for a while before he finally opened his mouth.
“Let’s say that’s fine. Then among your customers, there’ll be a lot of rough types. How do you plan to handle that?”
“I was going to use your name. Tell them the ruler of the Great Snowfields sponsors this place.”
Duar’s plan, while seemingly genuine, was skewed in a strange direction.
There was no way something that flimsy could control a bunch of rowdy thugs.
“So that’s why you’re hesitant to hire a woman…”
Hindir clicked his tongue.
“Haven’t I said it before? Strength has no gender. Otherwise, it’ll just become another one of those pretentious bars. The kind where drunkards drink without paying and pull out knives to make threats.”
“Yes, sir…”
“A tavern for warriors. The idea’s good. But you must also be ready to carry that name. Remember—someone else’s fame won’t protect you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then, suddenly, Duar glanced toward the Lady of Parno.
“Then… can she protect it?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
Still unconvinced, Duar eyed her skeptically, so Hindir added,
“She’s stronger than Moritz and Ubol—about the same as Bagman.”
Of course, if one broke it down in detail, there were more elements to compare, but purely in terms of mana level, the Lady of Parno surpassed them.
“What?! That strong?!”
Only then did Duar’s expression and posture become respectful, and he lowered his head.
“But… can I just order someone like that around?”
This time, Hindir looked toward the Lady of Parno.
Her agreement was needed now.
“…Claire.”
“Ah, yes yes. Miss Claire? Lady Claire? Not sure what to call you, haha… Well, I’ll be in your care.”
“All right then. I’ll guarantee your contract.”
With Hindir’s declaration, Duar muttered, “Is this really okay?” and returned to the kitchen.
As silence fell again, Claire was the first to speak.
“It’s a fake name.”
“Wasn’t curious.”
Her lips moved as if to speak, but instead she took another swig of alcohol.
“Pff… you’re like a monk. You little brat.”
“Hey—how dare you speak like that about our big brother! Watch your mouth!”
As expected, Duar, who had been eavesdropping again, yelled out.
“…?”
She glared toward the kitchen, confused.
Duar, emboldened by Hindir’s guarantee, had become much more forward.
“That’s just how he is. Don’t mind him.”
“…Damn pests.”
“Hey! Claire! How dare you curse at big brother!”
As Duar tried to take the lead again by butting in, Claire wiggled her fingers.
“I might accidentally kill that brat. Is that all right with you?”
No answer came from the kitchen.
Instead, an overly cheerful humming could be heard.
“And there’s one more thing I’d like to ask.”
“You act like you need nothing, yet here you are with a request.”
“Well, it’s not something I’m asking for right away. Only if you feel like it. There won’t be any consequences if you refuse. Would you be willing to pass down the Parno family technique?”
At Hindir’s question, she snorted through her nose.
“You must mean that Parno brat.”
“That’s right.”
She had watched Ubol from a distance a few times around here.
Since he trained in Snow Dragon Valley every day, she’d secretly followed once.
The man who killed her son.
And yet, she felt no resentment.
To Claire, everything related to Parno was nothing but a dreadful burden.
“It seems his Ice‑Blood Qi hasn’t been properly systematized.”
“You’ve observed well. Ubol did manage to control the Ice‑Blood Qi on his own, but he hasn’t learned a technique to refine it.”
“He did it himself? And lived?”
“Yes. He’s not in any immediate danger if left alone, but it’s far from ideal. I’d like you to help him.”
Surprised at Hindir’s words, she soon composed herself and shook her head.
“I refuse. I’ve had enough of anything Parno.”
“I see.”
Hindir accepted it without asking again.
“You’re a decent drinking companion, but also kind of boring. You don’t argue, but you’re so coldly indifferent…”
At that moment, Claire stopped talking and lifted her head.
Hindir, too, was already looking at the second floor.
In that fleeting moment—a violent surge of mana had swept through.
And a few seconds later, the door flung open and Moritz stormed out, speaking directly to Hindir.
“Why did you give this to me?”