Chapter 13: The Guardian of Humanity (4)
Arche's mornings began early.
It had become a habit — one she couldn't quite shake even after all this time. She'd learned, through experience and necessity, the value of early rising and the proper way to rest deeply enough to recover from exhaustion.
The moment she awoke, she dressed for the day's work and began her preparations.
Reaching the rank of Adamantite had brought in more than enough money for her to purchase a house of her own, and more importantly, to hire a maid to help look after her sisters. In the past, whenever she went out on dangerous work, a constant fear had gnawed at her — that her worthless parents might sell off the younger girls in her absence. Thankfully, it had never come to that.
Perhaps even those two had instinctively understood that the money Arche sent was meant for her sisters' sake.
After finishing her morning routine, Arche peeked into her sisters' room. They were still sleeping soundly. Smiling faintly, she closed the door, gathered her energy, and stepped outside.
....
The morning sun bathed her in warm light. The sky was an endless blue, pure and cloudless. White tufts drifted lazily overhead, and for a brief moment, she fancied that the wind whispered good omens to her.
Her hand touched the rosario hanging at her chest.
In truth, Arche had not yet reached the true skill level of an Adamantite adventurer. As Fluder had noted, she still hadn't broken beyond the third tier of magic.
Perhaps, with a team, she could manage challenges at that level — but as a solo adventurer, it was impossible. True Adamantites existed on the border between humanity and legend.
She was not there yet.
Even so, she had been granted that title — not by strength alone, but because of the rosario she wore.
A small charm, its white gem so tiny that one might miss it at a glance. It looked neither rare nor especially beautiful, but its power was undeniable.
The Sage's Rosario.
It enhanced all magical abilities, bolstered defense, increased maximum mana, and reduced the cost of spells. It granted resistance to curses and mental effects. And when invoked with an incantation, it doubled all of the wearer's abilities — physical and magical alike.
Even without it, Arche would still have been a talented adventurer. But with it, she could stand alone among the Adamantite ranks.
Some would call it "luck."
Arche didn't care. In this world, ability was measured by results — not the source of one's strength.
....
I could have stayed a worker, she thought, but an adventurer's path has more of a future.
The immediate pay for mercenary work was higher, yes, but adventuring — especially as an Adamantite — promised stability, freedom, and recognition. Her decision had been the right one.
The emperor's personal summons had proved as much. Even now, shopkeepers offered to lend her enchanted gear, and shady sponsors emerged daily, eager to buy her loyalty.
Arche clasped the rosario again. The gesture made her look like a saint in prayer — though what she felt wasn't faith, but reverence.
All of this — her life, her safety, her independence — was thanks to him.
Had it not been for that man, she might still be working herself to death as a lowly mercenary, crushed under her parents' debts. Or worse — dead on some nameless battlefield.
....
"Hey, isn't that her? The new Adamantite adventurer?"
"She's so young…"
"And she works solo, right? Must be really confident in her skills."
Arche pretended not to hear the murmurs as she approached the guild's bulletin board. She'd wanted to form a team once — but in those days, her spirit had been broken, her hope buried too deep. She'd never managed to reach out. And so, mission by mission, she grew accustomed to solitude, until solo work became her way of life.
If he saw her like this, he might scold her for it. Teams were important, he'd always said. Still… she'd grown stronger since then. Maybe, if she showed him how she'd mastered third-tier magic, he'd be proud of her. Or perhaps he'd simply laugh gently and tell her she still had a long way to go.
But Arche didn't think he would ever speak harshly. He wasn't that kind of person.
Ignoring the chatter, she scanned the board.
"Hmm… a lot of monster extermination requests lately."
The region had been overrun with monsters recently, so most postings were urgent extermination contracts rather than gathering work. Among them, one notice caught her eye — a request to clear out a bandit camp.
Bandits, huh? That was more typical of a worker's job than an adventurer's. The task only required scouting — confirming whether the reported hideout truly existed. If she managed to clear it out entirely, so much the better.
It wasn't a glorious job for an Adamantite adventurer, but bandits often hoarded valuable equipment. Arche had no qualms about taking what belonged to criminals.
Once, she had been an idealistic noble — but those days were long gone. The hardships of life had taught her the value of money. Perhaps her parents' greed had rubbed off on her after all. Even now, debt-free and stable, she still believed that having money was never a bad thing.
And villains deserved no mercy.
....
"Arche!"
A familiar voice made her turn her head.
A man was standing there — tall, perhaps in his mid-twenties, around one-seventy-five centimeters, with short blond hair and clear blue eyes. His skin was sun-tanned, his build solid. Not strikingly handsome, but somehow… noticeable.
Maybe it was the bright smile, or the easy, confident posture — something about him drew attention.
Arche blinked, her mind struggling to connect the cheerful face before her with a memory from long ago. And then it clicked.
"…Hekkeran?"
"Hoho, so you do remember me, Lady Adamantite Adventurer!"
"Don't tease me."
Hekkeran laughed heartily.
Hekkeran Termite — leader of Foresight, the worker team Arche had once belonged to. He'd been a little reckless at times, but in her memory, he was kind, fair, and endlessly good-natured. A true leader, capable and respected, known for keeping his team on good terms with everyone.
When Arche had been struggling as a worker, burdened and half-desperate, Hekkeran had taken her in out of genuine compassion. He'd asked for no favors, treated her warmly, and reminded her that not all people were cruel.
It was a kindness she'd never forgotten.
Soon after, she'd left to become an adventurer — but her time with Foresight remained a cherished memory.
"You've become quite famous, Arche," Hekkeran said with a grin. "When you said you were switching to adventuring, I figured it'd suit you… but to think you'd reach Adamantite?"
"You're still the same, I see," Arche replied softly.
"Oh? You still call me Leader? Stop it, stop it! Being called that by an Adamantite adventurer — even I'd blush a little!"
He laughed again, and for the first time in a long while, Arche found herself smiling too.
"I may be Adamantite," Arche said quietly, "but I'm still a novice."
"That's a pretty cruel thing to say to adventurers ranked below you, you know," Hekkeran chuckled.
"Is it?"
Arche didn't look offended — just calm, detached, as though her statement had been simple fact. She had never thought of herself as a strong one. How could she? The person she measured "strength" by was far beyond her reach. To her, true strength was something overwhelming, something that transcended even human limits — both as a warrior and as a magic caster.
Hekkeran, however, mistook her humility for modesty. He laughed heartily, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You should be more confident! Seriously, you've earned it!"
It wasn't hard for them to fall into conversation after that. They had parted on good terms years ago, and talking with someone familiar brought back a warmth Arche hadn't felt in a long time.
....
"What!? You—you met Emperor Jircniv himself!?"
Hekkeran nearly choked. "That must've been… awkward."
"Why?" Arche tilted her head.
"Why, she asks… well, your family—"
"They fell because they deserved to," Arche interrupted evenly. "If they'd been competent, they wouldn't have fallen. And if they'd at least been decent people, I wouldn't have had to cut ties with them."
"Cut ties, huh?" Hekkeran murmured. "Well… if that's the choice you made, that's that."
Arche had long since paid off her parents' debts — and beyond that, she'd sent them more money than they ever deserved, all under the pretense of filial duty.
Becoming an Adamantite had finally freed her from that obligation. No matter how much she gave, they'd only waste it. It had taken her too long to realize that. Maybe the word family had kept her hesitating far longer than she should have.
....
"So," Hekkeran asked, "you heading out on a quest now?"
"That's the plan. …Want to come?"
"Whoa, an adventurer teaming up with a worker? That's rare." He scratched his head. "You sure? Hanging around with us might hurt your reputation, you know."
"I don't care about reputation."
"…You've changed a bit, haven't you?"
"Have I?" Arche replied blankly.
Hekkeran studied her. The Arche he remembered had been a pale, hollow-eyed girl gripping a staff inscribed with desperate runes — barely holding herself together in the Worker's guild hall.
That was why he'd invited her into Foresight in the first place. She had been competent, yes, but more than that, she'd looked like someone on the verge of giving up.
And when she'd finally found new purpose — declaring she would become an adventurer — he couldn't bring himself to resent her for leaving.
How could he, when for the first time he'd seen light in her eyes? Someone had given her hope back then. He didn't know who, but whoever it was had saved her.
....
"That's a new rosario, isn't it?" he asked, noticing the small charm hanging at her chest.
"Yes," Arche replied softly. "Because of this, I'm still here — stronger, in both strength and spirit."
A magic item? Hekkeran thought. It doesn't look rare… but the way she's smiling—
It was subtle, but he saw it: a faint, genuine smile.
The expression didn't fit the emotionless girl he remembered. For a moment, he wondered if adventuring had made her lose her mind — but no.
She was simply better at hiding her feelings now. Maybe she'd learned that too.
He guessed the rosario had come from whoever had saved her — the one who'd given her hope.
"Pretty thing," he said. "Where'd you get it? Planning to buy one for Imina?"
"Imina wouldn't like jewelry," Hekkeran admitted with a grin.
Arche chuckled softly — a rare sound. "True. Then… let's work together again, for old times' sake."
She extended her hand.
And for a fleeting instant, Hekkeran saw his younger self reflected in that gesture — the day he'd reached out to a broken girl sitting alone, eyes lifeless and defeated.
But now those eyes shone with determination.
Feeling a strange happiness he couldn't quite explain, he grasped her hand firmly.
"Glad to be working with you again. I'll do my best not to slow you down."
"I'm not that strong," Arche said quietly.
Hekkeran laughed. "If an Adamantite adventurer isn't strong, then what is?"
"Kaiser"
"Kaiser… you mean that Kaiser?"
Hekkeran blinked in disbelief.
"That's just a legend! What, Arche — don't tell me you actually believe that story?"
The so-called Legend of Kaiser.
Of course, he'd heard it as a boy — everyone had. Tales of an immortal hero who slew dragons, gods, and demon lords; who vanished beyond the edge of the world. It was the kind of story children dreamed of and adults laughed off.
By now, Hekkeran saw it for what it was: a myth, a romantic fantasy. No human could possibly accomplish such feats.
Maybe, as modern historians claimed, "Kaiser" was just a title given to the strongest warrior of an era — or perhaps a single person's story, embellished through centuries of retelling.
Yet Arche only stared at him for a long, silent moment… before softly saying,
"Kaiser exists."
Her fingers brushed the rosario at her chest, and for the briefest instant, she smiled — a calm, radiant smile that carried unshakable conviction.
Something about it silenced Hekkeran. The normally expressionless girl was smiling, and that smile was real. For reasons he couldn't explain, he found himself believing her.
"Ah—well," he said awkwardly, following her as she walked ahead, "I still say it's impossible, but… whatever you say."
Still, Arche's tone wasn't that of a believer. It was the tone of someone who had met the legend. The thought nagged at him, but before he could ask, she turned and spoke matter-of-factly.
"Payment's seventy–thirty. I take seventy."
Hekkeran laughed. "Still the same money-hungry personality, I see."
"I'm Adamantite."
"What happened to that humility from earlier, Arche?"
"Strength and rank are different things. And this is important."
"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered, still smiling as he followed her down the street. Realistically, a worker tagging along on an Adamantite's quest had no claim to payment anyway — her giving him anything was generosity. And besides, fighting beside Arche again would be fun. He was genuinely curious to see how strong she'd become.
....
"Oh, right," Hekkeran added, "I heard this rumor — that you stand by your door every evening, waiting for someone. Is that true?"
Arche blinked. "So rumors like that are spreading now? I suppose I really am famous."
"Well, you're Adamantite. Comes with the territory. So? Who are you waiting for? Every single day, huh? Is it… a lover or something?"
"A—A lover!? W-what are you saying!?" Arche's usual composure shattered instantly. "It's not like that! We're not— I mean, I did think it would be nice if it ever came to that, but that's not why I approached him! And it's not why he gave me this rosario, either! I just— I just—!"
"O-okay! Okay, I'm sorry! Calm down, please!" Hekkeran flailed his hands defensively, trying not to laugh.
The girl's cheeks were crimson, her words stumbling over one another — the sight so uncharacteristically youthful that Hekkeran couldn't help but smile awkwardly. This was the real Arche: not the cold adventurer, but a flustered girl her age.
After a long breath, Arche pressed her hand against her chest and exhaled slowly. Her expression returned to its usual calm — though the redness on her face betrayed her.
"There are… many reasons," she said quietly. "Even if I know he can't die, I still worry. What if he changes again — loses that light in his eyes? What if he goes back to being just a guardian, protecting the world but no longer living in it?"
She paused, fingers tightening around the rosario. Her voice softened.
"But the final reason is simple."
Then, at last, Arche smiled — a pure, youthful smile that reached her eyes.
"I want to see him again."
That was all.
And for her, that was reason enough.
**************
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