Chapter 117: According to Plan

Hearing the murmurs around him and feeling the scorching gazes gradually cast his way, Roland sheathed his blade and allowed Esther to revert to her maiden form, standing quietly by his side. Even though they had witnessed Esther’s weapon transformation, the pure and sacred image of the young girl undoubtedly stirred greater passion than the cold, holy sword ever could.

Among them, it was Es who was most deeply captivated, still entangled in the complex emotions of defeat and the past.

“Are you hurt?” Roland tilted his head, a triumphant smile gracing his face. He grasped Es’s delicate wrist and helped her to her feet.

This familiar scene caused the girl to lose herself once again; she offered no resistance, made no effort to regain control over her body, and like a puppet, she was lifted up. After staggering a few steps, she collapsed directly into Roland’s arms.

Such natural daze was entirely unexpected by Roland, yet he instinctively embraced Es’s slender waist.

Perhaps it was because this was the first time she had been treated this way by a man, or maybe because Roland’s figure overlapped with memories of her past, the lithe and delicate Es did not resist but simply twisted her body slightly.

Roland’s other hand was still held by Esther, so he could only hold Es with one hand, bringing them into close proximity. Es’s seemingly unintentional struggles allowed him to fully savor the exquisite sensation, and the distinctive fragrance of a young maiden continually stirred Roland’s emotions.

As she moved, the girl’s perky hips pressed repeatedly against the hand encircling her waist.

Before Roland could prolong this subtle sensation, Esther spoke in an unchanging tone.

“Lord Roland, did Esther do well?”

Though her voice carried no emotion and her fair face remained impassive, Esther’s eyes flickered, as if nursing some grievance.

“Of course. Esther is my proudest sword,” Roland replied.

Though he could not claim to fully understand a woman’s feelings, he knew well that Esther’s refusal to address him as her usual master was a sign of sulking.

With a hint of regret, he withdrew his hand and began soothing his sword.

Still, even without Esther’s interruption, this situation could not have lasted.

“Es Carbon!” Loki suddenly lunged forward and embraced Es. Though deeply intrigued by the exquisite and adorable Esther, she retained her composure. Knowing much of the backstory, Loki set aside her usual cynical smile, her narrowed eyes now sharp as she fixed her gaze on Roland and asked,

“You won. I won’t go back on my word—any reasonable request, you can come to the Loki clan.”

Though disappointed by Es’s defeat, Loki, ever the enthusiast for all things novel and entertaining, was filled with anticipation.

“Then let’s see if you can shake this city to its core.”

She spoke with the excitement of a child discovering a new toy.

“Soon, your name will echo throughout Oraly. Countless clans will flock to you. Facing the world’s sole hero and the long-unseen fairy, no god will be indifferent.”

“That would be perfect,” Roland nodded with satisfaction, a look of triumph flashing in his eyes.

—Exactly according to plan.

In this world, his primary goal was to locate fugitive Contract Spirits. Ordinarily, making a grand display, brandishing a fairy, and defeating one of Oraly’s strongest would be reckless; like the Holy Grail War, a slow, careful approach was the norm.

Yet risk and opportunity often coexist. Roland had sensed no presence of Contract Spirits on Oraly’s surface; instead, clues emerged within the Babel Tower’s underground dungeon.

To conquer the dungeon, one person’s speed was insufficient. Since ready strength was available, it would be wasteful not to use it. Moreover, the dungeon line coincided with his objectives.

He need only play the hero convincingly, advancing rapidly to naturally draw the gods’ attention and stir all of Oraly into motion.

When the hero received blessings and began the epic, all that remained was to create an enemy formidable enough to alert all, prompting adventurers to follow the shining hero and battle evil.

In the conflict of good and evil, the Contract Spirits would have nowhere to hide.

With Es’s influence, the image of a hero accompanied by a fairy was already a success. Next, all that was needed was to maintain this protagonist-like beginning.

Thinking this, Roland glanced at Es. Though gradually emerging from defeat, she still occasionally lost focus. When their eyes met, she froze, then lowered her gaze like a child who had erred.

At this moment, the austere chill that once emanated from her had vanished entirely, replaced by a tender vulnerability that pulled at the heartstrings.

She looked at Roland, her clear eyes shimmering with a different light.

“Could you be this strong without blessings?”

“I am a hero,” Roland replied softly, momentarily taken aback. “Strength is my due because I must protect this era. Aren’t heroes in stories always like this?”

Upon hearing this, Es’s confused expression quickly gave way to sparkling hope. Before she could speak further, a voice interrupted.

“Stop—!”

Loki suddenly grabbed Es by the waist, eyes wary as she stared at Roland. “You want to be a hero? I can fund you if you lack money, I can ask other gods to craft your gear, but our Es Carbon? Not a chance!”

“Thud—!”

Before Loki finished, Es’s merciless fist struck her own patron deity. Stripped of divine power and struck so heavily, Loki wilted like a salted fish, carried away like luggage by Es with one arm.

“Thank you for your effort.”

“Mm…”

Es nodded in acknowledgment of Roland’s words. Despite Loki’s kindness, yielding to this mischievous god would only encourage further encroachment. Though the patron deity, Loki’s authority among her clan’s daily affairs was quite lacking.

Seeming to want to say more, Es instead simply bade farewell as a crowd gathered, and quickly left with Loki.

After their figures vanished, Esther spoke in her ethereal voice.

“That girl has a deep connection with the fairy.”

The “fairy” Esther mentioned was the “fairy spirit” adventurers spoke of in this world.

“Ah…” Roland nodded knowingly. “Well, she is the descendant of a fairy; it can’t be helped.”

“Descendant?”

Esther, who had remained expressionless, suddenly lifted her head and looked up at Roland with curiosity.

“Can fairies have descendants?”

Fairies were pure beings, often composed of a single element, lacking reproductive ability.

“I’m not sure of the process, but since fairies are responsible for conveying miracles, it’s not impossible. Just as Esther once thought she would never be bound again, yet here she is with me.”

Esther regarded Roland thoughtfully, lifting her youthful face to meet his gaze.

“Then, can Esther also have descendants with her master?”

“Eh?”

Roland stiffened, staring at Esther before giving a helpless smile.

“At least wait until we truly find a way. Though I have similar technology, it’s not mature. But why do you think that?”

“Because it proves Esther belongs to her master,” Esther’s voice remained clear, but a faint blush appeared on her usually cold face.

“Esther is the master’s sword, the master’s possession. That girl carries both fairy and human blood, the perfect proof of the eternal contract between master and servant.”

“Then let us wait hope-filled, Esther.”

Like soothing a child, Roland placed his hand on her silky silver hair, gently stroking it.

“Umm…”

Though seemingly unsatisfied with his answer, Esther closed her eyes contentedly under his touch.

So easy to handle…

Roland smiled warmly at Esther and casually surveyed the surroundings.

Because the guild, symbol of order, had been partially destroyed, clusters of adventurers now blocked all exits, cautiously peering inside.

With Roland’s increasingly exaggerated exploits spreading, no clan member dared be the first to challenge him or extend an invitation.

Even the receptionist who returned to assess the aftermath only dared to watch Roland with reverence, avoiding close approach.

Yet Roland appeared oblivious to his deeds, leading Esther as he greeted Aina with familiarity.

“Miss Aina, you’re back. Sorry for the mess made in the guild.”

“Loki’s clan has taken full responsibility and compensation,” Aina replied somewhat embarrassed.

“It was my mistake that exposed you unwillingly to the public eye. You never intended to join a clan, so now it will be hard to avoid the gods’ watchful eyes…”

“That’s fine; I’ve changed my mind,” Roland said casually. “Going to the dungeon without blessings is a means, not the goal. Now that I have the gods’ gaze and the adventurers’ awe, times have changed.”

“If that’s so… Lord Loki is preparing a gathering with familiar gods tonight. She asked me to give you this invitation if you wish to choose a clan.”

—

“Is this the place?”

Roland looked at the invitation, which contained no details, only a place name.

—The Bountiful Mistress.

It was a seemingly ordinary two-story tavern, second only to Joy Street as a place to unwind. Such buildings were common in Oraly, serving as hubs of information exchange.

But for Loki’s clan to take interest, this tavern had its unique charm.

“Welcome.”

Roland pushed open the door and entered. A woman around forty, carrying several oversized wine glasses, emerged from behind the counter and greeted him skillfully. Her eyes sharpened upon seeing Roland.

“The guests who booked have arrived; prepare to clear the place.”

“No, Aunt Mia!”

Regulars sharing tables grumbled upon hearing this, only to be met with the proprietress’s sharp retort.

“This is a gathering hosted by Loki’s clan for upper gods only. Apart from special guests, everyone else should be considerate.”

“Oh…”

Seeing Roland with his black hair and red eyes, alongside the exquisite Esther, and knowing today’s rumors, the patrons sulked and left without stirring trouble.

“So it’s him… no choice then.”

“After all, the Sword Hero? Our patron deity got excited hearing this and rushed out.”

Sword Hero?

Roland, having unceremoniously taken a seat, overheard the departing customers’ chatter and paused.

“Is that strange?”

The tavern owner returned, placing down the glasses with a smile.

“Your name has spread all over Oraly—the Sword Hero with the fairy. Honestly, if Loki’s clan hadn’t admitted the sword maiden’s defeat, many wouldn’t believe it.”

“Well then, great hero, welcome to my humble tavern. What would you like to order?”

Roland glanced around. With the patrons gone, several maids dressed in Victorian-era uniforms, all quite pretty, gathered curiously to observe him.

“It’s funny to hear ‘welcome’ from someone level 6, when all adventurers here are level 4 or above. Instead of making a name in the dungeon, you work here? Your way of thinking reminds me of others I’ve met.”

The owner’s expression stiffened as her secret was exposed, but she laughed it off.

“As expected of the Sword Hero, keen-eyed indeed. But we’re just a group of retirees banding together. How could we compare to a rising star like you?”

“Not very convincing. You all could easily be main force material. There aren’t many clans stronger than you in Oraly.”

“Just coincidence… Also, I don’t only take in those with hidden troubles. Our poster girl here is a genuine ordinary person. Sheila, serve the hero!”

A delicate voice came forth as a girl holding a tray emerged from the rear kitchen. She had long, glossy ash-gray hair and matching eyes, with creamy white, flawless skin. Her natural charm and cuteness made her look like the girl next door.

“An even more heavyweight guest…”

Roland’s mouth twitched as the deep red hue in his pupils flickered briefly.

She stepped lightly, glanced swiftly at Esther beside Roland, and then approached him with a warm smile.

“Welcome, what would you like?”

(End of chapter)