After two full days of packing and preparation, Idiot finally completed all the necessary arrangements. This marked his first time leaving Windblown Sands City in over a year—and he would likely be gone for more than two months. Naturally, he couldn't leave Bread behind at the academy for such a long stretch. She had to come with him.
On the day of departure, the gates of the academy were awash in a sea of flowers. Attendants carried pots overflowing with blossoms, scattering petals through the air. Two hundred private guards stood in two orderly columns flanking the entrance. A crimson carpet stretched from the school's teaching complex all the way to a grand, luxurious carriage awaiting beyond the campus.
The air brimmed with the fragrance of flowers, and sunlight glinted off polished armor. Of course, none of this fanfare was for Idiot—he had neither the status nor the merit to warrant such a display. This splendid farewell was for the brave knight and the princess, who were about to embark on a mission unlike any other undertaken by students of the Primary Division: a B-rank assignment—specifically, one for the Combat Department.
This event marked a precedent in the history of the Divine Grace Royal Academy. But if anyone deserved to break tradition, it was Delau Goodsay, a prodigious young talent. His intellect, strength, and noble lineage gave people every reason to believe he would succeed. This was an honor—one reserved only for the gifted and the highborn.
Meanwhile, Idiot slung a pack over his shoulder and took Bread's hand. He exited quietly through a small side gate used by servants and made his way to the magic train station.
…
Their journey from Windblown Sands began aboard the most modest of sleeper trains. Such was the standard for a D-rank mission. Yet for Idiot, the accommodations already felt like a marked improvement.
He remembered his first time riding a magic train—it had taken tremendous effort just to secure a partial route, with no direct ticket to his destination. This time, reaching the endpoint without a transfer felt like a blessing. He wouldn't have minded the lack of a sleeper car.
The train moved eastward. Beyond the towering cliffs that encircled the city, the desert reappeared. But after only three days, the landscape shifted once more—lush greenery overtook the arid wasteland, basking in the warmth of early summer. Towns became more frequent, and the number of passengers boarding and alighting increased. They passed through several large cities—not as grand as Windblown Sands, perhaps, but certainly far more developed than Sainag, Idiot's birthplace.
By the seventh day, cities grew scarcer and the train began its ascent into the mountains. Rolling hills undulated around them, the intervals between stops lengthened, and passengers grew fewer and quieter. Finally, on the tenth day, with a long whistle and a cloud of steam, the train pulled into a humble countryside station. Idiot, still holding Bread's small hand, stepped off.
"To leave Windblown Sands and arrive at such a remote frontier… Still, it doesn't look too bad here. Mountains, rivers, and scenery—this little village of Desapush seems fairly well-off," Darkbane sneered.
Idiot unfolded a map, studied it briefly, then led Bread onto a winding mountain path.
The road stretched on, long and meandering.
It wove through the terrain like an entangled thread—up and down slopes, cutting through groves of trees and crossing swift, splashing streams. Idiot no longer knew how long they had been walking. Bread, once bouncing with excitement, now lay fast asleep on his back, worn out by the journey. The sun, once high in the sky, now bathed the land in golden hues.
The air was thick with heat. Idiot scooped water from a brook to fill his canteen, wiped the moisture from his lips, and gazed ahead. The humidity of the mountains pressed against his skin in a way entirely unlike the dry heat of the desert—it was stifling, like being wrapped in a wet blanket that stifled sweat from escaping.
He turned to look at Bread. She slept soundly, eyes closed. Idiot gently adjusted her clothing, loosening a layer, then continued into the woods.
"Ever since we arrived, I've had a question," Darkbane spoke, his voice a low murmur.
Idiot walked slowly. Blood-red light shimmered in Darkbane's open eyes, staining the air crimson beneath the dying sun.
"Heh, don't go silent on me. I bet you already know what I'm going to ask. Not that it matters much—after all, we're short on information, and speculation would be premature. Still, you've got nothing better to do. Why not have a chat? Long, dull trips like this can drive people mad. And the best cure for madness is good conversation."
Idiot kept walking, his iron chains clinking with every step as he climbed the hill, the pack in his hand swinging with the motion.
"…Hey, say something. Don't be such a prissy little miss, sulking like your lover ignored you. The last few hosts I had—within two years, they had turned the world on its head. You don't trust me, fine. But you won't even indulge in idle talk? Aren't we past the point of formality?"
Idiot grabbed hold of a small tree rooted on the steep incline and nimbly pulled himself up the slope.
"…You're right," he said at last.
"Oh? So you can speak. How do you see the situation?"
"…Not enough information. No conclusion."
"Of course, of course. I'm not asking for a judgment—just a little guesswork."
"…I don't guess."
The curt reply immediately silenced Darkbane.
Life for a sewer rat dances constantly on the knife's edge. For creatures as filthy and lowly as rats, luck was never part of the equation. Idiot had never believed in the blessings of fortune. A rare stroke of luck could never be the basis for survival in this world.
Guesswork? That was a luxury. He'd seen far too many "wise old rats" die for the sin of conjecture. In his world, guessing wasn't a fun game where a correct answer earned a prize and a wrong one brought no penalty.
For Idiot, a bad guess might cost him his life.
Still restless, Darkbane prattled on without an audience. Idiot crested the hill, parted a dense cluster of branches, and said calmly:
"We're here."
Darkbane fell silent. His blood-hued gaze swept the valley below. In the twilight's final light, a small village of a hundred homes lay nestled in the hollow, still and unassuming. Wisps of smoke curled from chimneys, drifting into the sky before the breeze scattered them like whispers.
…
By the time Idiot descended into the village, dusk had fully surrendered to night. The stars began to glitter overhead. He shifted Bread gently on his back and entered the village.
…
…
…
It was quiet.
So quiet, it was unsettling.
It was only a little past seven—usually the hour when families would have just finished their meals. But as he walked through the village, not a single home showed any lights. All lay in eerie silence.
No footsteps, no barking dogs. In front of one house, a thick layer of straw had been spread out to dry—but it was already fully sun-dried, and yet no one had come to gather it.
Idiot stopped and scanned the surroundings. He bent down, picked up a stalk of straw, and examined it. Its sheen was fresh and glossy, indicating it had only been laid out earlier that day. He tossed it aside and pressed further into the village.
Finally, near the heart of the settlement, a large house glowed with lamplight. Faint voices filtered out, suggesting that not all the villagers had vanished.
"Tch. Disappointing," Darkbane muttered. "If they were all gone, that would've been so much more fun. An empty, ruined village full of mystery—that opens the door to so many delightful possibilities."
He scoffed and shut his eyes.
Seeing signs of life, Idiot let out a quiet breath. After all the effort he'd spent getting here, he'd rather not find it abandoned. He adjusted his pack and approached the house. As he drew closer, the voices grew clearer—many of them, and heated in tone.
"Village Chief! This whole plan was your idea! And now you want to back out?!"
"Yes… yes, I did suggest it! But… but perhaps there's still another way…"
"Another way? There is no other way! This was the rule you established, and now you must follow it!"
"That's right! Uncle Sabo didn't say a word when it was his turn. Now it's yours, and you're dithering? That's not how this works!"