After dragging along the ever-troublesome Grace, I finally arrived at Level 100—the temple. Just like before, there was only the statue of the Goddess of Fate.
We had barely taken a few steps when a rough, puzzled male voice echoed through the space.
"…Huh? Why are there two people? And neither of you is yellow hair."
"Who!? Who's there?!"
It was Grace's first time encountering something like this, so she naturally panicked and looked around frantically for the source of the voice. I raised my hand to stop her.
"Grace, it's fine. Don't speak for now."
"O-Okay…"
After her hesitant reply, I fell into thought. The voice sounded like a middle-aged man. And by "yellow hair," he probably meant hair color. The spectator god had also said that the Brave had yellow hair.
One person saying it could be doubted—but when two say the same thing, it starts to feel real.
Which made me wonder… could there really be two Braves in this era?
Then that so-called "fake Brave"… no, he might actually be the real one.
But what the hell is going on? Why choose two Braves? If they already picked him, why pick me as well? Even though I became a Brave earlier, the gods all think the Brave is yellow hair—so doesn't that make me some kind of intruder?
That damn Goddess of Fate… what a twisted personality. There's already a Brave, so why pick another one? Just to watch us fight each other?!
But I can't give up the power of a Brave. Not that I could even if I wanted to. The only ways to lose it are defeating the Demon King—or dying. And defeating the Demon King isn't really a method; that's just completing the mission.
So that leaves death… which is completely ridiculous. Who would throw away their life like that?
Still, I'm not about to give up this power either. It's strong and convenient—anyone who would abandon it is an idiot. Since resisting is pointless, I might as well go along with the Goddess of Fate's plan… and kill the yellow hair Brave.
But I won't settle for that. I want an explanation—one I can accept. And the one behind all this is the Goddess of Fate.
That only strengthened my resolve to confront her.
As for the god in front of us, he definitely wasn't the Goddess of Fate. For one, he wasn't female.
"Hey! Who are you two? Why aren't you saying anything? At least respond!"
This old man god had been noisy the whole time. Couldn't he wait a bit? Whatever—I should just ask what I need, get the power, and leave.
"Fine. I'm the Brave. She's just a normal person accompanying me."
After introducing us, the old man's voice turned low and angry.
"You've got some nerve, trying to deceive a god. The Brave only arrives here by teleportation—not through the entrance."
I hadn't said anything wrong. There was no need to be afraid or careful. This god could only talk—he wasn't a threat.
But Grace, who had never encountered a god before, panicked.
"W-What!? A god?! Mr. Karen, what's going on?!"
She looked like an ant on a hot pan, glancing nervously at the statue while begging me for an explanation.
There was no point hiding it, so I pointed at the statue.
"There's a criminal god sealed inside that statue of the Goddess of Fate. His punishment is to wait here for the Brave, grant them power, and then reincarnate as some creature in this world."
"Reincarnate?"
"Hey! How do you know so much?!"
The old man clearly panicked. How could a mortal know about gods?
"It means moving on to the next life."
"I see…"
Grace looked half-understanding, half-confused—still overwhelmed by the shock.
"Don't ignore me!"
Why did this god sound like some low-level grunt? Couldn't he say something useful? Fine, I'd move things along.
"Does what I said prove I'm the Brave?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
He asked in pure confusion. I ignored him and sat down, patting the ground for Grace to sit too. This was going to take a while anyway.
Grace sat down, hugging her knees, too scared to speak.
After a few seconds of silence, I clicked my tongue.
"…You can't even understand something that simple? Are you really a god?"
So much for gods being all-knowing.
"Arrogant human, watch your tone."
"I know this because I've met other gods and learned it from them. Is that so hard to understand?"
"You…!"
"Mr. Karen, please don't anger the god…"
Grace tried to stop me, trembling. She still didn't realize this god couldn't do anything to us.
After a few seconds, the god's voice wavered.
"…F-Fine! I was just testing you! You've got guts. Very good, very good."
Clearly, he was trying to save face.
"So, can you give me the power now?"
"Of course! As the Sword God, I acknowledge you as the true Brave."
"What did you say?! You're the Sword God?!"
I was so shocked that I barely noticed the orb of light flying out of the statue and entering my body.
"That's right! I am the invincible Sword God! Impressed?"
Despite how dumb he seemed, he was actually the Sword God.
Then an idea struck me—what if he trained Grace?
Grace herself looked at him with shining admiration.
"…Since you're the pinnacle of swordsmanship, would you be willing to teach a few techniques?"
"I'm not teaching you."
"I didn't mean me. Teach her. Grace, introduce yourself."
Grace froze for a moment, then immediately dropped to her knees.
"I-It's an honor! Sword God, my name is Grace Somart, a noble from Aimebisalon, and a swordswoman!"
"Much better manners than that black-haired brat."
This old man god was seriously rude. Calling the other Brave "yellow hair" already said enough about his manners. Though, to be fair, I wasn't much better—but at least I kept it to myself.
Suppressing my irritation, I asked him,
"...So, are you willing to teach her?"
"Please, I humbly ask for your guidance! I'll do my best to learn!"
After Grace eagerly put herself forward, the old man god fell silent.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
I knew he needed time to think. But by the tenth second, Grace's expression started to falter—she probably thought he found her unworthy.
I was getting a little impatient myself. I wanted him to hurry up and decide, but if I interrupted, he might refuse outright. So all I could do was tap my fingers against my knee and keep waiting.
After a while, the old man god finally spoke.
"Stand up and turn around."
"Yes!"
"Now swing your sword a few times."
"Yes!"
After watching, the god spoke with satisfaction.
"Excellent. I like you. Train under me for a year, and you'll become unmatched."
"No. Two days."
I immediately shot down the old man god's suggestion. We still had plenty to do—there was no way we could stay here for a whole year.
If he wanted to refuse, then so be it. Learning swordsmanship wasn't our main objective anyway; this was just an opportunity we happened to come across, and I didn't want to miss it. But if it interfered with my schedule, then we'd have to let it go. Grace probably wouldn't throw a fit over it.
"My swordsmanship isn't that simple."
To my surprise, the old man god showed no intention of refusing. It seemed his approval of Grace wasn't just a passing whim. But whether it was easy or not didn't matter—there was always a method called self-learning.
So I responded,
"I know that mastering great swordsmanship takes time and consistent effort. But when it comes to training, all you really need is one person."
"...What do you mean?"
This time, the old man god took a long while to think, yet still couldn't understand. What an idiot.
"It means you explain everything—how you swing your sword, how you train, all of it. After that, she just needs to follow your methods."
My idea was simple: have him lay out all his experience. As long as Grace absorbed it and kept practicing and reviewing it, that would be enough.
"A theory-based approach? I hate that."
"Well, you can only teach with your mouth anyway. Don't tell me you were expecting to demonstrate it yourself?"
From the moment I realized he was an idiot, I knew he was the type who learned through action—the kind who only understands after experiencing things firsthand.
"…Fine! I'll make her stronger than you in two days! She'll beat you up for me!"
"Eh?!"
"Ignore him," I told Grace. "Focus on learning. I'll bring food and bedding later."
"Bedding? I have to sleep here?"
"Yes."
"But I'll be sweaty…"
"I don't mind."
"I do!"
"Grace. Two days isn't long. Sweat doesn't matter. Just dry off."
"…Yes."
She reluctantly agreed.
"Being your companion must be rough," the god muttered.
"Not your concern. One last question—what's the Brave's special ability?"
"The ability to instantly judge materials and forge legendary weapons. But forging one consumes half your muscle mass. Go ahead, make two, then disappear."
…Was he serious?
I looked at my body. Not too thin, not too muscular.
Lose half… and I'd become a skeleton.
"…In your dreams."
I turned away.
"I'm leaving. Grace, do your best."
"Y-You too…"
Still bothered about not being able to bathe, huh.
I wasn't her parent. I wasn't going to pamper her.
As I headed back to level 99, something bothered me.
The god said the Brave should be teleported here… so the spectator god didn't lie.
Then the problem… is me?
But I am the Brave.
…This is so frustrating.
Too many things to think about.
If hair could turn white from stress, I'd be completely gray by now.
(…Forget it. Don't think about it.)