Mushoku Tensei (LN) - Volume 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

The Foundations of Trust 

I f I had to describe Roxy’s former village in one word, it would be destitute . 

There were less than twenty households. It was a bit hard to describe the buildings themselves; it looked like they just dug down into the earth then covered up the hole with something that resembled a turtle’s shell. It was obvious at a glance that the architectural techniques in use here weren’t nearly as advanced as those of the Asura Kingdom. Then again, even if you brought a crew of Asuran builders out here, they probably wouldn’t have managed to make anything better—there didn’t seem to be any lumber to work with after all. 

The little field I’d spotted from outside the gate was lined by neat rows of wilting, leafy plants. In all honesty, it looked like they were all half-dead. Somewhat concerning. The Dictionary of Demonkind hadn’t included much detailed information on agriculture unfortunately. All I could remember was a brief mention that their vegetables tended to be “bitter and unpleasant.” 

Apart from the crops themselves, there were also some alarmingly toothy flowers growing at the very edges of the field. They bore a strong resemblance to the deadly plants known to lurk inside green pipes in a certain video game series; but it seemed plausible that these were actually some sort of animal, given the way they audibly gnashed their ugly, uneven fangs together. Presumably they’d been placed there to protect the crops from hungry animals. 

Near the village fence, a group of young girls moved busily around a fire. It looked like a bunch of junior high kids out on a camping trip, but they seemed to be focused on cooking a single enormous meal. Apparently they made their meals in one big pot and then distributed shares to all the villagers. 

There were almost no men around. I did notice a few children who were ostensibly boys at play, but other than Rowin and the elder, the adults were all women. The others were presumably off securing tomorrow’s dinner. From what I remembered, men did most of the hunting in these villages, while the women looked after their homes. 

“What sort of prey is there to hunt around here, Ruijerd?” I asked. 

“Monsters,” he replied. 

That answer was probably perfectly true, but it felt slightly lacking in detail—like a fisherman telling you he caught “fish” for a living. 

Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to press a little harder. “Uhm… Do those shells on top of their houses come from monsters too?” 

“Those come from Great Tortoises. Their shells are tough, and their meat’s delicious. You can even make bowstrings from their tendons.” 

“Are those the hunters’ main targets then?” 

“Yes.” 

A tasty tortoise, huh? It was a little hard to picture one massive enough to fit these shells. The one covering the village’s biggest house had to be at least sixty feet long. 

As that thought ran through my head, Ruijerd and Rokkus stepped into that very building. One thing never seemed to change, no matter where I ended up: the guy in charge always had the nicest house. 

“Pardon me.” 

“Th-thank you for having us.” 

Mumbling some vaguely polite words, Eris and I went in as well. 

“Whoa…” 

The interior of the dugout was much more spacious than I would’ve guessed from the outside. Its floor was covered with furs, and the walls were decorated with colorful works of art; a fire blazed in a sunken hearth at the center of the room, lighting the interior quite nicely. There were no separate rooms or dividing walls; at night, you probably just wrapped yourself up in a fur and curled up by the fire. I noticed a number of swords and bows placed carefully near the outer walls. You could certainly tell this was a community of hunters. 

For some reason, the two girls who’d followed the elder to the gate didn’t follow us inside. 

“Well then, let’s hear your story,” Rokkus said, plopping himself down next to the hearth. Ruijerd took a seat directly facing the elder; I sat cross-legged next to the Superd. I glanced back, looking for Eris, and found her standing awkwardly near the entrance, unsure of what to do. 

“Do we just sit on the ground? Even inside the house?” 

“We sat on the floor all the time during sword practice, didn’t we?” 

“H-hmm. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Eris wasn’t the type to get too flustered about this sort of thing really. She was probably just thrown off by the difference between how things worked here and what she’d learned in her etiquette lessons. Watching her drop down to the ground, I found myself slightly concerned that the girl might completely forget the concept of “manners” by the time we made it back home. 

Shaking my head slightly, I turned back to face Elder Rokkus. 

*** 

I started off by stating my name, age, profession, and place of residence, then explained that Eris was my pupil and the daughter of a noble family. I also made it clear that we’d been sent very suddenly to this continent by events beyond our control. 

I decided against mentioning the whole Man-God thing. I had no way of knowing how the Migurd viewed that particular deity, and the last thing I needed was to brand myself as the messenger of an evil god. 

“…Well, there you have it.” 

“Hrm,” Rokkus murmured, stroking his jaw with the thoughtful expression of a junior high kid pondering some tricky algebra problem. “I see…” 

As we waited for him to make a decision, I noticed Eris beginning to nod off. She’d looked energetic enough a few minutes earlier, but maybe the hike had taken its toll after all. It wasn’t really surprising—this sort of travel was new to her, and it seemed she’d never gone back to sleep the previous night. The girl was probably running on fumes. 

“Eris, I can handle the talking,” I said. “Why don’t you take a nap?” 

“…How am I supposed to do that?” 

“You just wrap yourself up in one of the furs, I think.” 

“But there aren’t any pillows.” 

“Hey, my lap’s available,” I said, slapping my thighs with a smile. 

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you can rest your head on my legs.” 

“…Really? Well…thanks.” 

Normally, Eris would have kicked up a royal fuss at the very suggestion, but it seemed she was too drowsy to care. Without much hesitation, she plopped her head in my lap. For a moment, her face tensed and she clenched her hands into fists, but once she closed her eyes, she was sound asleep within seconds. 

The girl must have been seriously exhausted. I took the opportunity to gently stroke her long, red hair, and she squirmed a little as she slept. 

After a moment, I realized that Rokkus was watching me from across the hearth. There was a warm, amused smile on his face. I couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious. “…Uhm, what is it?” 

“You two certainly seem to get along.” 

“Oh. Yes, absolutely.” 

That said, we were still in “hands-off” mode for now. The little lady here had some firm ideas on the subject of chastity, and I wasn’t about to disrespect that. 

“In any case…how are you planning to make your way back home?” 

Hmm. He’d gone straight to the same question Ruijerd had brought up the night before. “We’ll travel on foot, earning money as we go.” 

“You think a pair of children can earn enough to support themselves?” 

“Actually, I’m planning to handle that part on my own.” Not that I was exactly street-smart myself, but I couldn’t very well expect a sheltered, little rich girl like Eris to deal with the practical realities here. 

“They won’t be alone,” Ruijerd interjected. “I’ll be going with them.” 

Hmm. It would definitely be reassuring to have this guy in our corner, but the Man-God thing was still a point of concern. No matter how much I wanted to trust him, it was probably better for us to go our separate ways at this point. For all I knew, he was a ticking time bomb. 

That said…how exactly was I supposed to turn down this offer? 

Before I could think of anything, Elder Rokkus voiced his own disapproval. “And what purpose would that serve, Ruijerd?” 

“What do you mean?” Ruijerd replied with a frown. “I’m going to keep these two safe, and bring them back to their home.” 

Rokkus sighed. “But you can’t enter any towns, can you?” 

“Uh…” 

Wait, what? He can’t…go into town? 

“Think about what might happen if you approached a city with these children. You remember what happened a hundred years ago, don’t you? When the garrison chased you off and formed a squad to hunt you?” 

…A hundred years ago? 

“Well, yes…” Ruijerd stammered. “But…I could just wait by myself outside…” 

“And know nothing of what befalls these two within? That’s no way to keep them safe,” Rokkus said, shaking his head in exasperation. 

Ruijerd grimaced and ground his teeth. 

Apparently, the Superd were just as feared and hated on the Demon Continent as they were in Asura. Had they really formed an entire squad just to hunt down a single man? That seemed…somewhat excessive. You’d think he was some rampaging monster. 

“If anything should happen to them inside…” 

“Yes? What would you do?” 

“I’d go in to rescue them, even if I had to kill everyone living in the city.” The man’s eyes were deadly serious. He wasn’t even exaggerating; I could tell he meant every word literally. 

“There’s no reasoning with you when children are involved,” the elder murmured. “Come to think of it…you first earned our trust by rescuing some youngster from a vicious monster, didn’t you?” 

“True.” 

“Has it already been five years since then? Ah, how the time does fly…” 

Sighing, Rokkus shook his head wearily. I knew the man was currently on my side, but I found myself a little irritated anyway. He just gave off the same aura as an obnoxiously precocious junior high kid expressing his exasperation at the stupidity of adults. 

“In any case, Ruijerd—do you really think you can accomplish your goal by such violent means?” 

“Hm,” Ruijerd grunted, creasing his brow. 

His goal? This sounded important, so I decided to butt in. “Your goal? What’s that, Ruijerd?” 

“It’s very simple,” said Rokkus. “He wants to convince everyone that the Superd aren’t the wicked monsters they’re made out to be.” 

With effort, I managed to keep myself from blurting out, “Well, that’s not going to happen.” Systematic prejudice wasn’t the sort of thing a single person could overcome, no matter how hard they tried. Hell, a single kid can’t even stop their class from bullying someone, and hatred of the Superd had apparently spread across the entire world . I mean, even bold little Eris screamed at the sight of Ruijerd. Humanity and demonkind alike were positive that his race was evil; how were you going to convince them all otherwise? 

“Uhm, well…it’s true that the Superd attacked friends and enemies alike during the war, right?” I ventured tentatively. 

“Wait! That wasn’t—” 

“I know rumors can get out of control, but it does seem like there’s a good reason everyone’s afraid of—“ 

“No! That isn’t true!” Ruijerd shouted, suddenly grabbing me by the front of my shirt; his eyes were burning with anger. 

I felt myself trembling. Oh crap… 

“We were victims of Laplace’s plot! The Superd are no race of monstrous beasts!” 

Wh-what the heck? Stop yelling at me, man. You’re freaking me out. Crap, I can’t stop trembling. What’s this about a plot anyway? Is this guy conspiracy theorist or what? And this Laplace guy lived, like, 500 years ago, right? 

“U-uh, what did this Laplace do exactly?” 

“He repaid our loyalty with betrayal!” 

Ruijerd’s grip on my shirt began weakening. I reached up and tapped his arms a few times, silently asking him to release me; he complied immediately. Still, I could see his hands shaking with fury. “That man… That cursed man!” 

“Would you mind telling me the whole story, Ruijerd?” 

“It’s a long tale.” 

“Well, I’ve got plenty of time.” 

The story Ruijerd proceeded to tell me described a hidden side of this world’s history. 

*** 

The Demon-God Laplace was known as a hero who united the demonic races, winning them the rights humankind had long denied them. The Superd had rallied to Laplace’s banner very early in his campaign. They possessed outstanding agility and a capacity to sense the presence of their foes. In addition, their strength in battle was second to none. They served as one of Laplace’s personal forces, specializing in ambushes and nighttime raids. Thanks to the “third eye” on their forehead, they were always aware of their surroundings. It was impossible to take them by surprise or to avoid their deadly attacks. 

In other words, they were an elite group. At the time, the word “Superd” was spoken in tones of respect and awe throughout the Demon Continent. 

But then came Laplace’s War. 

In the middle stages of the conflict, just as the demons were beginning their invasion of the Central Continent, Laplace called upon his warriors bearing a certain type of weapon—one that would later come to be known as the Devil Spears. He offered these spears to his soldiers as gifts. They closely resembled the tridents the Superd wielded in combat, but they were jet-black in color; even at first glance, there was clearly something ominous about them. 

Naturally, some among the warriors objected to their use, insisting that a Superd’s spear was their heart and soul—that they could never cast aside their weapons for some cursed thing. But this was a gift from Laplace, their master. In the end, Ruijerd—the group’s leader—ordered his soldiers to use their new spears, out of sheer loyalty to Laplace. 

“Hm? Did you just say Ruijerd?” 

“Yes. I was the leader of the Superd warriors at the time.” 

“…How old are you right now?” 

“I lost track after I reached 500.” 

“Uh, okay…”Had Roxy’s dictionary mentioned anything about the Superd being that long-lived? Well, whatever. 

In any case, the group stuck their old spears in the ground somewhere or other, and began to use the Devil Spears in battle. These new weapons were enormously powerful; they amplified their bearers’ physical capabilities several times over, nullified the effects of the humans’ magic, and heightened the Superds’ already sharp senses even further. 

The Superd were now nearly invincible. But in exchange, they were gradually transformed. The more blood their new spears tasted, the more corrupt their souls grew. 

The warriors didn’t even realize what was happening to them. They lost their sanity in increments, none more quickly than any other, and so, no one noticed how they, or those around them, were changing. 

In time, this led to tragedy. 

The Superd lost the ability to distinguish between their friends and their foes, and began to attack everyone they encountered indiscriminately—young and old. They showed no mercy to women or even children. They showed no mercy to anyone at all. 

Ruijerd still remembered those days with vivid clarity. Before long, demonkind at large came to call the Superd traitors to their cause, and word spread among the humans that they were “bloodthirsty devils.” 

At that time, Ruijerd and his companions smiled happily at these insults, taking them to be the highest praise. The Superd were surrounded by enemies, but their cursed spears made them a force to be reckoned with. Every warrior in their band now fought with the strength of a thousand men; no army could hope to destroy them. They quickly became the single most feared combat unit in the entire world. 

However, that didn’t mean they suffered no losses. Now a hated enemy of both humanity and demonkind, they were forced to endure near-constant battles, day and night. Slowly but steadily, their numbers began to decrease. 

Still, none of them questioned the path they were following. In their madness, the thought of death in battle brought them bliss. 

After some time, a rumor reached the Superd band that one of their villages was under attack—Ruijerd’s home village, in fact. It was a trap meant to lure them to their doom, but by this point, none of them were clearheaded enough to suspect anything. 

The warriors returned to their home for the first time in a while…and proceeded to attack it. 

It was simple. They’d found people, which meant they had to kill them. 

Ruijerd murdered his parents, his wife, his sisters, and finally his own child. Ruijerd’s son was still young, but he’d been training to become a warrior. It was far from an even fight, but in his final moments, the boy managed to break his father’s jet-black spear. 

In that instant, Ruijerd’s pleasant dream ended, and his nightmare began. There was something hard and crunchy in his mouth. Realizing that it was his son’s finger, he spat it out in horror. 

His first thought was of suicide, but he forced it from his mind. There was something he simply had to do before he could die—an enemy he had to destroy, no matter the cost. 

By this point, the Superds’ village was totally surrounded by a demon army sent to exterminate them. Only ten of Ruijerd’s soldiers remained. When they first received the Devil Spears, this had been a band of nearly 200 daring, valiant fighters. Now a bare handful survived, and they were all in rough shape. Some had lost an arm, others an eye or the jewel on their forehead; but even battered, bruised, and utterly outnumbered, they stared belligerently at the thousand-strong force surrounding them. 

They were all going to die. And they were going to die in vain. 

Ruijerd snatched the Devil Spears from his companions’ hands and broke them apart. One by one, the others came to their senses, and their aggressive glares gave way to expressions of shocked disbelief. Many began to weep uncontrollably, lamenting their murder of their families. Still, none asked to be returned to the oblivion of their trance; they were made of sterner stuff than that. 

Together they swore an oath to have their vengeance on Laplace. Not a single one blamed Ruijerd for what had transpired. These were no longer mindless killers, nor proud warriors; they were fallen, ruined creatures, with only revenge to live for. 

Ruijerd didn’t know what had become of the other ten, but he suspected they were dead. Without the power of the Devil Spears, the Superd were nothing more than unusually effective soldiers. They had no choice but to use whatever tridents they could find, rather than the familiar ones they had grown used to over years of battle. By all rights, none of them should have survived. Somehow, Ruijerd managed to break through the enemy’s encirclement and escape. But he was badly wounded in the battle, and spent the next three days and nights on the verge of death. 

The one and only thing he’d carried with him was his son’s trident—with which the dead boy had broken the Devil Spear and saved his father. 

In the end, after several years spent in hiding, Ruijerd did get his revenge. As the three heroes battled the Demon-God Laplace, he jumped in to assist them, managing to score a blow on his hated enemy. 

But of course, the defeat of Laplace wasn’t enough to undo all the damage he’d done. Despised and persecuted, the surviving Superd were driven from their villages and scattered across the world. To help them escape their pursuers, Ruijerd was forced to kill more of his former demon allies. In those first years after the war, the attacks on his people were truly brutal, and he fought back just as viciously. 

At this point, Ruijerd hadn’t met another Superd in nearly 300 years. He didn’t know if his kind had been wiped out entirely, or if they’d managed to survive and form a new village in some secret location. 

“Laplace was to blame for all of this, of course. But I, too, bear responsibility for the disgrace I brought upon my people. Even if I am the last of my kind, I want to tell the world the truth.” 

With his story told, Ruijerd fell silent once again. 

*** 

His words had been simple and blunt. He never appealed to our emotions. And yet, Ruijerd had conveyed his regret, anger, and bitterness perfectly. Either all of it was true, or the man was an astonishingly talented actor. 

“What an awful story,” I mumbled, trying to gather my thoughts. 

If we took Ruijerd at his word, the Superd weren’t some inherently bloodthirsty tribe. It wasn’t clear why Laplace had given them the Devil Spears, but maybe he’d been planning to use them as a scapegoat for any crimes committed by his armies once the fighting reached an end. 

What a vile thing to do. 

The Superd had clearly been deeply loyal to Laplace. They would’ve given their lives at his request. Betraying them so cruelly just seemed unnecessary . 

“All right. I’ll help you as much as I can.” 

A little voice inside me whispered an objection: Are you really in a position to be helping him? How about you focus on saving your own skin? This trip’s going to be way tougher than you think. 

It wasn’t enough to keep my mouth from moving. “I don’t have any real ideas, but maybe having a human child on your side will open up some new possibilities.” 

Of course, I wasn’t acting solely out of pity or compassion. We did stand to gain from this arrangement, in some respects. Ruijerd was a powerful fighter—in the same class as the three legendary heroes—and he was offering us his protection. At least with him around, we wouldn’t get killed by some random monster on the way to our next destination. 

His presence would make things easier on the road, and more difficult when we reached a city. So long as we found some way to work around the city issue, he’d make an excellent ally. Not only was he strong, it was impossible to ambush or sneak up on him, even at night; that would make it much easier for us to avoid thugs or pickpockets in unfamiliar towns. 

Also…though this was just intuition on my part, I got the sense the man was basically incapable of telling a lie. It felt safe to trust him. 

“I’ll do what I can for you, Ruijerd,” I said. “That’s a promise.” 

“Uh…thank you,” he replied, looking more than a little surprised. Maybe he’d noticed the suspicion in my eyes fading away? 

Well, whatever. I decided to trust you, all right? I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. 

In my previous life, I used to laugh off sob stories all the time…but for some reason, this one really hit home for me. If the man was tricking me somehow, so be it. I felt like being stupidly trusting for once. 

“But my boy, the Superd truly are—” 

“It’s all right, Rokkus. I’ll figure something out.” Ruijerd would protect us on the road, and I’d protect him in the cities. This would be a give-and-take relationship. “Let’s set out tomorrow, Ruijerd. Glad to have you with us.” 

There was only one thing about this arrangement that made me feel a little anxious… 

Namely, it felt like I was doing exactly what the Man-God wanted.