Pick Me Up!

Vol 2. Chapter 1: Side Story – Aaron – The Sword Waiting to Be Drawn (1)

Aaron closed the book.

In his mind, the goddess’s manic laughter echoed.

“How was it?”

“......”

“What do you think of this story, Sir Aaron? Who’s the good one, and who’s the evil one?”

Whose fault was it?

Was it Icar, who couldn’t let go of Möbius?

Or Tell, who dragged every dimension into ruin under the excuse of doing it for her sister?

Or was it Lucardis, who orchestrated all of this from behind the scenes?

Or perhaps, the Law itself that handed down the sentence of destruction to Möbius?

“...I don’t really know.”

“You don’t know. That’s okay. That’s also an answer.”

Yurnet smiled.

Aaron spoke dryly.

“Either way, it’s over now.”

At present, the three gods who had planned the Pick Me Up project were all extinct.

No dimension worshipped them anymore.

They had received the karma they were due.

“And regardless of the circumstances, what the goddess did cannot be forgiven.”

How many heroes and monsters had suffered because of her?

Tell had to die.

For the peace and future of Möbius, she had to die.

“I agree. All of us—countless beings of Möbius—were made to suffer. But then again... the goddess did, in the end, prove her purity rather splendidly.”

“She proved it?”

“We’re here, aren’t we? Möbius has been brought back.”

“Just because the outcome is good doesn’t mean the process should be excused.”

“You’re right.”

Yurnet opened her lips again.

“If... if that goddess had possessed even a little mercy. Maybe we wouldn’t have come to hate the Goddess of Purity this much.”

“Mercy... you mean.”

Tell had used everything to achieve her goal of reviving Möbius.

The lives of Möbius, gods and spirits, the people of Earth—even herself.

There was not a trace of mercy in that.

She didn’t care how much everyone else suffered, so long as she could sustain her pure goal.

She never considered the pain others would go through in the process.

If only the goddess’s purity had included mercy...

Would things have turned out differently?

Could some of the heroes’ and monsters’ suffering have been alleviated?

Aaron didn’t know.

He wasn’t a god. He couldn’t guess what Tell had truly felt inside.

But he could say this for certain:

“It was impossible.”

“And why do you think so?”

“Because that goddess’s mercy was already dead.”

“Heh. A fair point.”

And so, both the story’s course and its ending had been decided from the beginning.

When the Goddess of Mercy threw herself away and died, the Goddess of Purity lost all capacity for mercy.

“Do you know about the doctrine of Purity and Mercy in the Goddess Church?”

“I heard it a few times from believers in my hometown. But I don’t know it well.”

“Purity and Mercy. Mercy and Purity. The two principles intertwine and give life the strength to carry on.”

Yurnet continued her explanation.

“Two as one, one as two. According to the doctrine, if Purity and Mercy become separated, disaster will befall the world.”

“And why is that?”

“Because mercy without purity can’t decide anything—and purity without mercy leads all things to destruction.”

Drip.

Yurnet poured tea into a cup.

Aaron murmured:

“Mercy without purity can’t decide anything...”

“It weighs everything, suffers over every choice, but never moves forward. It remains endlessly stagnant.”

“Purity without mercy leads all things to ruin.”

“It advances for its own sake alone, greedily consuming the universe.”

Therefore, they must be properly blended.

The Goddess Church referred to the perfect union of Purity and Mercy as ‘Harmony.’

“What do you think? Isn’t it kind of... fascinating, once you learn more?”

“Well... I’m not sure.”

“In times of peace, the people of the world followed Mercy. But in times of chaos, the ancient emperors followed Purity. Because purity...”

“Gives you the strength to fight against hardship?”

“Oh my. You’ve been paying attention.”

Yurnet smiled.

“That’s right, Sir Aaron. Purity is courage. It’s unyielding will, and it’s perseverance. True purity means never backing down, no matter the suffering.”

“......”

“When you mix in a bit of mercy, that’s how the ancient emperors carved their feats into history.”

Aaron furrowed his brow.

Mixing mercy into purity.

Wasn’t that strange?

“You just thought it, didn’t you? That purity and mercy don’t go together.”

“Yes, briefly.”

“You’re right, it’s a contradiction. Purity and mercy don’t logically align. But it’s possible. Because contradiction is the essence of humanity. On Earth, they have a phrase for this duality: ‘nae-ro-nam-bul.’”

“Nae-ro-nam-bul?”

“Oh dear, maybe that wasn’t the best choice of phrase. Well, as long as the meaning gets across.”

Yurnet tilted her head slightly.

Then she clapped her hands together—clap!—and changed the mood.

“Now, enough heavy talk. Let’s move on.”

“So, are we done with preparations?”

“Unfortunately, Sir Aaron, there’s just a little left.”

Yurnet smiled gently.

Aaron briefly wondered if she was doing this on purpose—but then shook his head.

“Once you’ve read this... that’ll truly be the end.”

With a flick of her hand, Yurnet had the Book of the Forgotten Gods slide neatly back onto the shelf. In its place, another book slid out onto the table.

A gray, rugged cover.

Even just touching it looked like it could cut you.

Aaron immediately recognized whose book it was.

“No, this one’s fine!”

He stood up and frantically waved his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“This book... isn’t this his?”

“You mean Lord Ridigion?”

Ridigion.

The man nicknamed Valhalla’s Greatest Warrior. Just thinking of his gaze was enough to make Aaron freeze.

Whenever he met those eyes, Aaron felt like a rabbit cornered by a tiger.

That man hardly ever spoke.

But the moment even a sliver of emotion arose, an uncontrollable bloodlust poured from him.

Aaron, sensitive to such moods, found it unbearable.

So unless they were fighting together, he generally avoided him. To be honest...

“He’s terrifying.”

Aaron had faced countless battlefields and brushes with death—but this fear? This was something else entirely.

He found it unbelievable that the rest of the 1st Party treated such a beast of a man so casually.

“See? Inviting you here was the right choice.”

“Pardon?”

“You two don’t get along at all, right? And we can’t have that between comrades. It could impact your coordination in battle.”

“Well, that’s true...”

“No need to worry. Lord Ridigion has granted permission to read it.”

He gave permission?

That guy?

“If you really can’t bear it, there’s another option.”

Yurnet smiled slyly with her eyes.

“How about a ‘Let’s Get Closer’ special? Pair up with Lord Ridigion for a whole month, spend all day togeth—”

“I’ll read it!!”

Aaron sat down immediately.

“How unfortunate. Lord Ridigion will be so disappointed.”

At that moment, the woman in front of him looked like a devil.

“You misunderstand him. He may seem blunt on the outside, but inside he’s warm and gentle.”

Aaron recalled his first meeting with Ridigion.

And their very first conversation.

<“So, you’re that man’s successor?”>

<“...Yes.”>

<“You want to die?”>

Gentle? Where?

A cold sweat trickled down Aaron’s neck.

“Alright then, let’s begin. It’s just like the first book. Open it, concentrate, and the story will begin.”

“...Understood.”

It felt like a trap.

But there was no choice now.

Might as well enjoy it.

The story of that man.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t curious.

He was Valhalla’s greatest swordsman, the strongest spearman, the invincible divine archer.

Sword, spear, blade, bow, mace, whip, scythe, fists, legs—

There was no weapon in which he had a rival.

If he got his hands on anything, no matter what it was, it became a weapon of massacre.

Even barehanded, it was the same.

In Valhalla, countless strong warriors gathered—many of whom had honed their martial arts for decades, even centuries—but before that man, they always despaired.

It was inevitable.

Like fate.

The man was a genius.

A genius among geniuses—and even among those, he stood above the heavens.

And so,

Among the many warriors of Valhalla, he stood as a living symbol of martial prowess.

Some admired him.

Some envied him.

Some tried to surpass him...

But within his domain, he never yielded his place to anyone.

“I was the same.”

Aaron had been one of them.

That man possessed what Aaron had always dreamed of.

Absolute talent for battle.

And yet, he was never arrogant.

He was the first to rise in the morning, the last to finish training at night.

“I want to know.”

Someone like him, who had zero talent for combat—what kind of life had that man lived?

Fear faded.

Only pure curiosity filled Aaron’s heart.

He opened the book.

A new story began.

***

“Waaaaah!”

The roar of the crowd echoed.

A cry thirsting for someone’s blood.

He grasped the hilt of his sword.

Blood clung to the blade and dripped onto the sand.

“Y-you bastard!”

Not far away—

A muscle-bound man came charging with an axe.

Left downward slash. Then a rising diagonal cut from the right.

Even before the man swung the axe, his movements were already drawn in the warrior’s mind.

“Yaaaaah!”

The man let out a beast-like roar.

At the same time, he swung his axe, aiming for the shoulder.

The warrior dodged the attack with fluid grace.

“Die!”

A follow-up upward strike.

“Heh heh...!”

A wicked grin curled across the man’s lips.

He could feel it in his hands—solid impact.

Just as he thought.

Blood was running down the warrior’s left shoulder.

“Uwoooaah! Kill him! Kill him!”

The more blood splattered, the more swords clashed and sparks flew—

The more the crowd cheered.

They didn’t want a one-sided victory.

The more bloodied both fighters became, the more intense the fight, the louder the cheers, and the more the spectators gladly threw money at the arena.

What they truly desired was two lives colliding fiercely—igniting like fire.

That’s why a clean, single-strike victory didn’t suit the nature of the arena.

And no one understood that better than the warrior himself.

“Die... Die... Die!”

The muscle-bound man swung his two-handed axe wildly.

A storm of relentless blows.

Sand burst up in all directions.

......

Clang! Clanggak!

He dodged or deflected the deadly strikes.

If the attack was shallow, he allowed it to hit.

Before long, blood was flowing from all over the warrior’s body.

“Hhahaha! Hahahah!”

The axe-wielding man felt sure of his victory.

Sure, the guy dodged the fatal hits here and there—but anyone could see the difference in their size and strength was obvious.

Just as I thought!

That strange feeling of discomfort he had at the start, when they clashed a few times—

That sensation of hitting a bottomless wall—was now completely gone.

The man in front of him was weak.

And boring.

It was decided from the beginning that I’d win.

From ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) weapons to strength to training, everything was different.

The man’s axe was a massive weapon forged from top-grade steel. A gift secretly supplied by a high-ranking White Oni noble who backed him.

In contrast, that guy wielded a worn-out iron sword.

The blade was chipped and battered.

One proper clash and it would shatter instantly.

He was somehow managing to block, but that was just luck.

“Don’t look down on me, you bastard.”

The axe-wielding man muttered.

The two were gladiators from the same arena.

He knew all about how that guy lived.

Compared to the veteran fighters who trained non-stop, that guy led a lazy, careless life.

The man trained every single day without fail.

His sweat never dried from the grip of his training axe.

And that guy?

He just sat there blankly, wasting time.

No sense of urgency about needing to win the next match.

He must’ve survived up till now by pure luck—but now that he’d met him, that was over.

Hard work never betrays!

Thud!

The heavy axe blade drove deep into the sand.

It was so heavy, most men couldn’t even lift it properly.

But the man, through relentless training, had reached the point where he could wield it at will.

He hadn’t been strong from the start.

In his first real battle, he only won thanks to pure luck.

But to live, to survive, he worked and worked until he reached this level.

High-Rank Gladiator.

A title of honor granted to one who survived more than ten matches.

The man bore that title with pride.

That’s why he hated that guy.

That kind of bastard—ranked the same as him?

But he didn’t let his guard down.

Before entering the match, he had thoroughly analyzed that guy’s fighting style.

His opponents were always nobodies.

Arena matches were usually decided by lottery.

If luck was on your side, even a weakling could, on rare occasion, be named a high-rank gladiator.

That guy was one of them.

He had no flashy techniques.

He wasn’t particularly strong or fast.

Not once had he ever completely dominated an opponent.

He’d only barely scraped by—always by some minor fluke.

“I’ll kill you.”

The man pointed at the warrior.

Then drew his thumb across his neck.

“Wooooaaah!”

“Yeah, Rals! Kill him! I bet money on you!”

“Don’t you dare lose to that trash! Kill him!”

The crowd roared.

The muscle-bound man—Rals—had quite a fanbase.

A bold, charging battle style paired with a flashy finisher.

Rals gave a smug grin.

“Now then, let’s finish this!”

The crowd’s cheers grew louder.

“Now then, let’s finish this”—was a line Rals always shouted before slicing his enemy to pieces with his finishing move.

A kind of showmanship.

Sensing the blood and flesh about to fly, the White Oni nobles in the audience were flushed with excitement.

Thud!

Rals yanked the axe from the sand and slung it over his shoulder.

The distance between them: about five meters.

Even after the declaration of the finishing move, the guy’s expression didn’t flicker.

He just stood there, sword hanging loosely.

What the hell...

Is he not afraid?

I just told him I’m going to kill him.

Has he gone insane from fear?

Well, whatever.

It was a high-rank gladiator match.

The reward would surely be generous.

He’d get to eat his fill of delicious food, and finally take a long rest.

“Heheheh!”

Veins bulged on Rals’s muscles.

His body, trained to the limit, radiated explosive force.

“Die!!”

Bang!

Sand exploded into the air.

In an instant, Rals's massive frame closed the distance.

Don’t be fooled by the bulk—he wasn’t slow.

There were hardly any opponents who could react to that speed.

Seventeen-Strike Combo!

His whole body surged forward—unleashing a storm of violence using all his strength and weight.

The first blow came down to split the warrior’s skull.

The guy dodged it with a side step.

Of course! It wouldn’t be fun if he died in one hit!

Rals’s grin deepened.

“One!”

The Seventeen-Strike Combo—Rals’s signature technique as a high-rank gladiator.

With each successive attack, the crowd would shout.

“Two!”

From a downward slash into a horizontal cut.

Normally, the two moves couldn’t be connected—but Rals’s bear-like strength made it possible.

Try blocking this!

You’ll just be torn apart.

Rals’s steel axe had already hacked countless victims to pieces.

No one could block that kind of attack head-on.

And that guy? He was holding a battered old sword.

That junk would snap like a twig the moment it clashed with his axe.

The warrior raised his blade.

It was a motion to block the axe.

A glimmer of thrill passed through Rals’s eyes.

“Die—!”

Clang!

“...?”