Climb had a rare day off today—his first break in quite some time.
But he had no particular desire to do anything.
If possible, he would have gladly given up his rest day to serve at Princess Renner's side, or dedicated the time to sword training.
However, Gagaran had told him such behavior was unhealthy for a warrior.
And so, today, he wandered the city with no destination at all.
Gagaran had explained that a strong warrior must also have days where neither body nor mind were tense—
that resting one's spirit was itself a part of training.
(…But even so, it feels so frustrating.)
As he walked aimlessly, a thick, gloomy haze settled over his heart,
making it impossible to truly relax.
Climb did not believe he possessed natural talent with the sword.
Because of that, an impatient ember smoldered deep inside him.
While he did nothing, naturally gifted warriors might be pulling ahead.
Could a man who hoped to guard Princess Renner really afford to rest his body?
And if his weakness were ever exposed,
he could very well be dismissed from serving at her side.
That fear constantly gnawed at him—
a chronic anxiety he could never fully shake.
(No… thinking like that won't change anything.
I should trust Gagaran-sama's advice.)
His fists were clenched tightly without him realizing.
He forced his hands to relax.
This was supposed to be a day to rest both mind and body.
Letting himself spiral into worry defeated the entire point.
He took a deep breath—
(…What?)
From far away,
a noise—not ordinary noise, but a chaotic clamor—reached his ears.
It wasn't festival season.
The voices were loud, rousing, excited in a hostile way.
From his experience, this sounded very much like—
(A fight?)
Climb's expression sharpened immediately.
He broke into a run.
Though it was his day off, he was still a soldier of the Kingdom.
He could not ignore anything that threatened the peace of its citizens.
Climb's face transformed into the keen, resolute visage of a warrior.
He ran.
Turned a corner.
Saw a crowd—
A swarm of people, loud, heated, charged with tension.
Climb pushed through the spectators without hesitation—
but froze when he reached the center.
A child was collapsed on the ground, injured.
Before him stood a group of rough, ill-mannered men.
The relationship between victim and assailants—
between weak and strong—
was as clear as daylight.
He should help immediately.
But even that urge paled next to the presence of someone standing there.
A figure in flawless, awe-striking obsidian armor—
a warrior whose immaculate crimson cloak swayed as she shielded the child,
glaring at the men with cold fury.
"Who the hell are you?"
one of the thugs spat.
The black-armored warrior raised two fingers
and gently pressed them into the thug's chest.
There was no killing intent,
no stance that suggested imminent attack—
only a soft, natural motion.
The man seemed more confused than alarmed.
Climb couldn't guess her intention.
(What is she…?)
"What's with that hand? You got something to say to m—"
And in the next instant—
The man vanished backward,
launched like a bullet,
slamming into a wagon with enough force to embed him in it.
A delayed blast of air hit Climb's eardrums.
A one-inch punch—
fajing—
that's what it looked like.
But the truth was simply overwhelming, ridiculous strength.
When strength surpassed reason,
it became indistinguishable from technique.
To Climb's eyes,
what he had just witnessed appeared to be a master-level martial art.
"Leave.
Before I change my mind."
From beneath the helm came a voice so beautiful—
so clear, refined, and feminine—
that Climb's brain briefly rejected it.
A pristine soprano,
coming from armor so intimidating
that the mismatch felt impossible.
The men instantly scattered like panicked spiders.
Even they weren't stupid enough to ignore such a massive power gap.
Screaming pathetically,
they fled in a chaotic mess.
"…I apologize for the disturbance."
When silence slowly returned,
the warrior murmured awkwardly, almost embarrassed.
The crowd erupted into applause.
The tension dissipated, replaced by cheers and admiration.
"Y-you, are you alright?"
Climb, who'd felt as though he had just witnessed a scene from a play,
snapped back to reality
and rushed to the injured boy.
He quickly removed a potion from his pocket
and helped the child drink.
The boy's pain-filled expression eased almost instantly.
(Thank goodness… no severe injuries.)
Relieved, Climb exhaled—
then glanced toward the black warrior.
She was surrounded by people praising her:
"That was incredible!"
"You're strong and fearless, sis!"
"I gotta buy you a drink!"
"You saved that kid's life!"
"I'm really not that impressive,"
the warrior replied.
"If someone is in trouble, helping them is simply the obvious thing to do."
The crowd let out a loud "Ooooh!" of admiration.
Climb felt a stirring deep in his chest.
Her gentle words…
he had heard them before, somewhere.
"If someone is in trouble, helping them is obvious."
This was precisely the motto of the newly risen Adamantite-rank hero of E-Rantel—
the Black Princess, Momon.
(Then this person is…)
His heart raced.
She wore no Adamantite plate—strange—
but that armor and that greatsword made it undeniable.
Climb waded through the cheering crowd
and stood before Momon, bowing deeply.
"…You are—"
The warrior tilted her head in confusion.
Climb raised his head crisply.
"My name is Climb.
I serve as a soldier of this kingdom.
Thank you for settling something
I should have resolved myself."
"I see.
But no thanks are needed.
I merely happened to be passing by at an unfortunate—
cough—fortunate moment."
"Thank you regardless.
And… from your armor, I assume you are the hero known as the Black Princess—Lady Momon?"
"Yes.
I am Momon.
I'm surprised you recognized me."
At her confirmation,
the crowd exploded even louder.
Admiration intensified; awe deepened.
Momon's legend in E-Rantel had reached the capital,
but no one imagined she would actually be here.
"I've heard much of your heroic exploits.
It's an honor to meet you.
But I notice you aren't wearing your adventurer plate…"
"Ah—well.
It feels a bit constricting to wear a work ID even on a day off."
"S-sha… shine…?"
"Ahem—
In other words, even I sometimes like to forget I'm an Adamantite-rank adventurer.
If I wore the plate, I'd be recognized everywhere I went."
"I… I see…"
Resting one's mind by briefly setting aside one's duty—
This was exactly what Gagaran had lectured Climb about.
Climb felt an even deeper respect.
Compared to her, he was still second-rate—
no, third-rate, perhaps.
"Then excuse me,
I'll take my leave.
Please look after that child.
If I remain here any longer,
I may cause trouble for the residents."
She glanced at the crowd.
Climb agreed; the attention around her was excessive.
But he could not let this chance slip away.
"P-please wait, Lady Momon!"
"…Is there still something?"
She turned slowly.
Climb swallowed.
Tomorrow, at Ro-Lente Castle,
Princess Renner and Blue Rose were scheduled for final strategy discussions.
Meeting this hero by pure coincidence—
letting this opportunity slip away would be foolish.
Renner would surely say the same.
Climb steadied himself
and spoke his request.
"If possible…
would you be willing to spare some time tomorrow?"
Momon said nothing,
simply waited.
Her expression beneath the helm was unreadable,
but she was clearly listening.
Climb continued:
"There is someone—
no, several important people
who would very much like to meet you."