How to Lose a Pursuer

The third among the 12 companions.

The quote-machine, Bennett.

"If that is far, just how far is my path to becoming The World's Greatest?"

― I told you I'd help. Becoming The World's Greatest.

"No. Just being able to wield you already means I've entered a shortcut. The rest, I will definitely accomplish with my own strength."

― Sure. Suit yourself.

"If that is far, just how far is your path to becoming a military officer?"

I recalled his catchphrase and echoed it.

"Run. You can do it, right? If you don't get over that wall, you'll die here."

Bastian glanced repeatedly between the watchtower and the wall's edge, his eyes flustered.

"Um... I think I might make it if I try hard."

"Then run."

* * *

Crunch!

A huge rock crashed through the frozen creek.

A big hole opened in the ice.

Underneath, unfrozen creek water flowed.

"Do we really have to do this? It's the middle of winter!"

The plains down below were still late autumn, but the winter deep in the mountains was much longer and harsher.

"If you want to get caught and end up dead, then just stand there."

Sploosh.

Without hesitation, I threw myself into the creek. I submerged my whole body, then crawled out dripping.

"Your turn."

"Wait, so we really have to do this?"

"Yeah. Unless you want to die."

Bastian cautiously dipped his foot into the frigid creek.

He wavered in place.

I kicked the guy's butt with my foot.

Splash!

"Waaaah!"

In an instant, Bastian's lips turned blue as he shrieked.

"It's way too cold! This!"

"Head under. All the way."

"Uuugh... Well, may as well commit."

Bastian dunked his body fully, then crawled out of the creek.

Thud!

I chopped off the deer haunch we'd just caught and lifted it over Bastian's head.

Deer blood poured over him.

"Ugh."

He covered his mouth, suppressing a gag.

My turn next.

I chopped off another deer leg and drenched myself in blood.

"Alright, back in."

"Huh?"

I kicked Bastian's butt again as he hesitated.

Sploosh!

"Waaaah!"

Covered in blood.

Into the freezing water.

We repeated this three times.

Seventh among the 12 companions.

Floyd the assassin.

He knew better than anyone how to shake a pursuer.

"If you do this, not a single hunting dog can track your scent for a while."

—That's for you to worry about. Don't you dare get that filthy blood on me. ... Hey! Don't splatter beast blood!

"Is... is it done now?"

"Yeah. But if you don't want to freeze to death, you'd better warm up. We'll sit by a fire for just a moment and head north right after. We can't stay long. We went through the trouble of erasing our scent—no point leaving a new one."

"North? But isn't the way down the mountain to the south?"

"That's also the direction the pursuing party will go when they lose our trail."

"Oh...."

After warming ourselves briefly,

"You stay here."

"Where are you going?"

"I'll just pop down and come back."

Using the campfire as our base, I dashed south along the creek.

It was downhill, so I picked up quite a bit of speed.

After a long sprint, I jumped across the creek where it narrowed.

Then I took a wide loop and doubled back to Bastian.

I repeated that twice.

"What were you doing?"

"I left footprints headed south. Two sets—yours and mine."

"Amazing, Evan! Where'd you learn that?"

From the strongest assassin in history.

"Let's go."

I leaped clean across the creek, leaving no prints on the bank.

"Come across here. Be careful not to leave footprints by the creek."

"Not leave any?"

"Yeah. Jump straight from there to the creek."

"That's kind of far."

"If that's far, your path to becoming an officer is—"

"Alright, alright."

Bastian hopped, landing atop the creek ice.

Naturally—

Wobble.

"Whoa! Whoa!"

Crash.

He slipped.

"Good job. Just cross slowly now."

After Bastian finally crossed,

"You've had enough rest, right? Now we run north at full speed. We need to cross that ridge before sunset."

"Is that possible? It looks pretty far."

"If that's far, your path to being an officer—"

"I get it! Let's go!"

Bastian had good value for effort.

* * *

"Huff, huff! Evan! I can't... can't run anymore."

His legs had begun to wobble a while back, and now Bastian finally collapsed in a heap.

I looked back, estimating the distance we'd just covered.

This kid.

Not bad.

I'd claimed the ridge was our goal, but considering the body of a twelve-year-old kid, I'd set my actual target somewhere halfway.

But he'd already blown past it.

"Let's rest here. I'll go find some dry leaves. We need something to cover up with overnight."

"Can't we just make a fire?"

"Not here. The pursuit party could reach where we were earlier by tonight. If we light a fire here, they'll be on top of us in seconds."

Bastian struggled to his feet.

"Th-then let's go further. Let's rest once we reach the ridge."

Not bad.

He shouldn't have any strength left for even one more step.

He's got grit.

"You'd only wreck your body. And since we left footprints heading down the mountain, that's where they'll be chasing."

"... Evan, why are you so crazy good with stamina? I'm pretty good at that too, or at least I never get outmatched. Not even by my seniors."

"I worked out every day."

"I trained pretty hard too, though?"

Since he was now a companion, I decided to teach him a little.

"Breathing is key."

"Breathing?"

"Yeah, breathing. If you just breathe right, you can become the best swordsman."

Bastian let out a wry laugh and waved his hand.

"Come on, that's just talk. If you want to be called 1st-rate, you're supposed to store what they call mana in your heart or something, like the mages do."

Nonsense.

"That's just the current trend. Even now, plenty of swordsmen train in different ways."

"Current trend?"

"Yeah. Like... two hundred years old? Three hundred?"

"You only see that in books. Wait, could you be—?"

This guy.

Did he sense the depth of time I've lived?

"You can read, right?"

Of course.

"Yeah. Let's just say I read it in a book."

"Ooh, you read it in a book? That's kind of cool."

Swordsmen's training methodology had always evolved.

When someone developed an efficient technique, everyone would imitate it for a while.

Sometimes, people valued physical training above all.

Sometimes, people gathered ki in the lower abdomen.

Right now, the trend was to collect mana in the heart like mages do.

But no matter which method prevailed for centuries,

eventually, it would change, looping round and round.

Twelve companions.

Depending on the era, their mentors, and their talents,
they all used different training methods.

But I know them all.

What's important is the essence.

The essence is always the same.

But people, always seeking a quicker, easier path to power, miss the heart of it and just chase the trick.

No matter which path you start on,
by the time you become The World's Greatest, you all end up in the same place.

"Alright, lie down comfortably."

"Where?"

"That's for you to figure out."

"Like this?"

Bastian lay flat on his back on the ground.

"Take a breath in."

Whoo!

"No, not like that. Slowly. As slowly as you can."

Bastian inhaled slowly.

His chest and shoulders swelled with air.

After a moment—

"Pwah!"

"Not even close. Again. Deeper this time. Slowly. Deeply."

Bastian tried again, inhaling even slower.

This time, he closed his eyes.

Listens remarkably well, this one.

Not a bad first companion.

"More."

Shhh.

"More."

Sss.

"More."

Nnnng.

"More."

"Pwah! How long am I supposed to keep inhaling?"

"Until your body breathes as one with nature. That's the essence."

"Huh? The essence? One with nature? What's that even mean?"

Everything in this world can breathe with nature.

People, animals, plants—

Even when I was a sword.

Back then,
I learned to breathe with nature, becoming Ego Sword,
and, over time, became the world's strongest sword.

"I'll tell you more later. For now, just practice. Breathing."

"You really practiced this yourself? That's how your stamina got so good?"

"Yes."

"Ooh, nice. I'll try too. But Evan, just how long have you been practicing this?"

"Twelve years."

Bastian laughed in disbelief.

"Twelve years? Aren't you the same age as me, Evan? Did you start practicing the day you were born?"

"That's right."

How did he figure that out?

* * *

A few days later.

After crossing several more ridges, we made our way down the other side of the mountain safely.

"So... what do you think happened to the others? Are they still alive?"

Those mountain corpses, all courage and hope gone.

"By my standards, they were already dead when we left."

"What? No, everyone was alive!"

"I don't mean literally dead."

"Then?"

"Being alive like that may as well be the same as dead. Actually, they might be dead for real by now."

Following a narrow path toward a nearby village,

Bastian asked,

"So what now? Do you have a plan?"

"We're joining the army."

Bastian halted, grabbing me by both shoulders.

"... So you dreamed of becoming a soldier, too?"

No.

I was just choosing the quickest way to become stronger.

"That wasn't the original plan. I'd wanted to leisurely explore the world."

"So why?"

"There's no better training than real combat. Nowhere else can you improve so fast. Your life's goal was to become a military officer, right?"

But there was a problem.

I was a fugitive from a fallen noble house.

Bastian, an orphan from a bandits' group.

If it were a local noble's soldiers' corps, maybe, but the official army would never take us.

"First, we need a sponsor."

"A sponsor?"

"You really think an ex-bandit like you can just join the army?"

Bastian hung his head.

"Fair point..."

"So we need to cover up our backgrounds."

"Cover up?"

"Yes."

"How?"

* * *

Mercenary Guild 'Red Eyes' Southern Branch.

There were hundreds of mercenary guilds throughout the kingdom of Sathus.

Red Eyes was the largest of them all.

About 300 years ago, mercenary King Kendrick himself created the guild, naming it after his own red eyes.

"Evan, do you think we can get a job here? I heard you have to be a member to accept any requests."

"We're just eavesdropping."

"What? If you try to take a request unofficially from the guild and get caught, you'll make the entire guild your enemy, you know?"

"Which is why we're just listening."

"But can you really hear anything?"

"Be quiet."

Bastian and I were flat against the roof of the Red Eyes Southern Branch, eavesdropping.

I pressed my ear to the roof, focusing as much as I could.

Tenth of the 12 companions.

Mercenary King Kendrick, the man with red eyes.

Founder of the Red Eyes Mercenary Guild.

"Hey, Eden. Do you know how I got my first job?"

― No idea.

"Hey, come on! We're talking about the Mercenary King's first job here. How can you give such a dull answer? Don't you wonder? The very beginning of Mercenary King Kendrick!"

I didn't bother to say, 'I've seen tons of legends like you.'

― I'm curious now. What did you do?

"Haha. That's right. It's the start of a legend—you'd better be curious. ... I was, what, fifteen? I spent days lying flat on a guild's roof, listening in on everything inside. Back then, they wouldn't give contracts to anyone but members. And, damn, you become a mercenary to make money, but they charge you to join first. Does that make sense?"

And so,
We're following in the footsteps of the legend.

Exactly how the Mercenary King first found work.