Chapter 37. The Island of Fishmen
I stood in front of the sword stuck in the ground, lost in my thoughts. And there was plenty to think about. First, the level-up I'd just gotten, which I dumped point by point into Constitution so there wouldn't be any pain issues. Second, the one-meter-seventy steel rail standing in front of me, currently embedded in the ground and, by the way, even despite my recent growth spurt — not counting the ears — still about fifteen centimeters taller than me. And it clearly weighed no less than a hundred kilos.
"So we came here for this sword?" Cecilia's voice, dripping with skepticism, pulled me out of my thoughts.
"Yes," I nodded. "This sword is called the Bane of False Gods. Because of the properties of its blade, which resists everything supernatural due to being soaked in the blood of all sorts of monsters, if you can actually wield it, you can even block magical attacks with it, just like that skeleton did."
"And you think you'll be able to lift it?"
"I'm not sure yet, I need to estimate its weight more precisely," I shook my head, then still walked up to the sword, grabbed the hilt, and started tilting it to the side since it was too tall. Even so, with the hilt at about waist height, because of its enormous weight and the position of its center of mass, I didn't even come close to tearing the blade out of the ground.
"Too heavy," I wheezed before giving up on trying to pull its blade free.
"Well of course it's heavy. It's a real pile of iron," the aristocrat commented.
"This is insane. Why make a sword this heavy?" Indiana's muttering reached me.
"I've got an idea, step back, please," I said to the others, and they did so without arguing. I kept my grip on the hilt and, instead of trying to lift the sword, started running, dragging the tip of the blade along the ground. Then, with a jerk, I tried to swing: the blade came off the ground, slashing in front of me, kicking up a gust of wind, and then, by inertia, yanking me off to the side.
"Ugh… my arms…" I groaned, letting go of the hilt and feeling how, despite having managed to land a successful strike, everything hurt, especially my arms.
"That was stupid," Cecilia shook her head, then looked at her butler. "By the way, Greyrat. You try lifting it."
While I was healing myself, I also watched with curiosity as the big guy approached the sword and took hold of the hilt. At first it was obvious he doubted it could really be that heavy, since I had at least managed one swing. But as soon as he started trying to pull the blade out of the ground, his face darkened with strain — which wasn't surprising. If the sword really weighed two hundred kilos, then lifting and holding it, given the leverage, was roughly equivalent to supporting a weight close to two tons. And, as I recalled, Lona herself had never actually used it properly. She would've had to invest way too much into Constitution. Still, if there's magic, there should also be ways to magically reinforce your body, at least temporarily, to a sufficient degree.
"Hm, some Nasuverse-style reinforcement wouldn't hurt here," I muttered.
"Did you think of something?" Indiana asked, while Greyrat, apparently unwilling to believe that his strength and mine could be almost equal, decided to repeat my trick. Though in his case it went much more smoothly and, judging by the looks of it, without injury.
"This sword's too heavy, it's impossible to use it as a weapon," the big guy pronounced his verdict.
"And yet there once was a warrior who did," I nodded toward the beheaded skeleton of the dark berserker. "And there's his skeleton."
"This is madness," Greyrat frowned, staring at his own hands as if he'd started doubting himself.
"Don't worry, big guy. You're plenty strong, the Berserker was just too abnormal," Indiana patted him on the shoulder.
"All right, people, let's head back," I finally decided, then tossed the sword into my inventory, which immediately became more than half full. Just from the sword's weight alone.
The way back was noticeably easier and faster, and then we returned to the inn. I decided it was time to start a hard conversation, because I was now sure I was ready for the next step — the one I'd have to take alone.
"What's this supposed to mean?" Indiana asked, face darkening as he looked at the pouch of fifty gold coins.
"Indiana. You have a family. You've already been stuck on this island far too long as it is. Buy a ticket for a ship and go back to the continent."
With every word I said, his face grew angrier.
"On the Island of Fishmen no one will be able to help me, and men especially won't be allowed to go with me. And after that my adventures will probably become many times more dangerous than anything that's happened so far."
"Are you… making fun of me, girl?" Indiana's voice trembled, but his gaze stayed hard. He shoved the pouch of gold back toward me. "I didn't go with you for the money."
He exhaled loudly, barely keeping his anger in check.
"I've seen what they do to people like you in this world. I've seen villages burned to the ground. I've seen children sold in chains. And you think I'll just take the gold and leave you alone? Forget how, at my lowest point, when I was about to die of hunger, you pulled me out of the abyss? You really think I'm that kind of man?!
"Get this through your head, girl: maybe I'd like to go home, but until I'm sure you've truly found your place under this sky, you're not getting rid of me."
"Idiot," I swore under my breath, feeling genuinely moved, and yet I still took the pouch of coins back and, without saying anything else, went to my room.
Did his words, that had nearly moved me to tears, mean I would actually take him with me to the Island of Fishmen?
Of course not. I'm not stupid. He really might try to stick his nose into the sea witch's business, and for any man that's a death sentence. Besides, I had a not‑so‑pretty plan in mind. I wanted to sacrifice one pervert who just so happened to dream of screwing the sea witch. Well, it would be the last sex of his life.
"Knock-knock."
"Come in."
As I expected, it was Indiana who walked in.
"What is it?" I sighed.
"So when are we heading out?"
"Tomorrow," I answered simply. "Now go. I need to prepare and rest."
"Fine."
After he left, I took out a small note I'd found long ago and, turning it over to the blank side, quickly wrote a message. Then I left it on the table and waited another ten minutes or so to make sure no one was planning to come in, climbed out through the window, dropped into the street, crossed the yard, left the inn's premises, and headed toward the port. There I boarded the nearest ship bound for the Island of Fishmen, hoping Indiana would listen to me and not follow.