Tight. Way too tight.

  I'm talking about the rope binding my wrists. It is digging into my flesh.

  "Would it kill them to loosen this a little…?"

  I was muttering to myself mid-walk when the female knight ahead of me, Meisa, caught my eye.

  Wait, why is she coming this way?

  The lady knight marched over and yanked my bindings even tighter.

  "Ow! What the hell are you doing?! I'm losing my circulations!"

  "Shut it. You're a person of interest. The most cunning rat in this whole Brotherhood. Keep your mouth shut and walk."

  One ice-cold remark, and she was already heading back to the front.

  I'm going to lose my mind. I'd spent all that effort wriggling my wrists to at least get some blood flowing… which is all futile now.

  What even is my life right now?

  Out of nowhere I get dumped into another world, I slay some goblins, catch some bandits, and now I'm treated like a criminal and forced on a hike I never signed up for.

  I need air conditioning. I want to lie in bed and watch XTube. Hell, even shooting the breeze with JamPT would be better than this. I want to go home. Right now.

  But how?

  Help me, Terminal-emon!

  [Yes, Master. To achieve your desired outcome, execution of the 'Return Protocol' is required.]

  Oh? That was surprisingly forthcoming.

  [Access to this protocol requires administrator privileges. Your current user tier does not permit viewing—]

  Yeah, figures. No way getting home would be that easy.

  Then how do I get those privileges?

  [Excellent question. Upgrading your user tier requires physical synchronization with a 'World Core.']

  Fancy name. How do I get there?

  [Searching for information… An error has occurred.]

  [Warning: Free Plan users cannot access top-tier classified information. A 'Core Module' is required for sequential plan upgrades.]

  Right. Of course it wouldn't be that simple.

  Come to think of it, the Terminal's free plan already limited how many sword arts I could build per day.

  So first I need to collect these 'Core Modules.'

  Terminal-emon, where do I even find Core Modules?

  [I apologize. The location and specifics of Core Modules are not known—]

  Sigh. I looked away with a heavy breath.

  At least it's good to know a way home exists. But the fact that I have no idea what to actually do next? That hasn't changed one bit.

  While I was lost in thought, voices drifted up from behind me.

  "Boss, just ask him already!"

  Ah, right. Those guys are still here.

  "Exactly! You've been dying to know, haven't you?!"

  "No. If he hasn't reached out in twenty years, there must be a reason. I should wait for my brother to speak first…."

  Kill me now.

  Listening to their little family drama unfold behind my back boils my blood.

  In what universe do I look like I'm related to that Bruno guy? And why do his lackeys believe it?!

  Why are they like this? What's their basis? That I used the same sword art as their boss?

  [Precisely! To deduce that much from limited information—truly remarkable. Hereditary sword arts are secretly passed down exclusively within a family lineage…]

  So in other words, the 'Auria' technique I copied is a secret family heirloom, and because I used it, they assumed I'm family.

  I had no idea cloning a sword art was this sensitive.

  You should've told me this BEFORE I cloned the damn thing, don't you think? Terminal, you tin-can bastard!

  A visceral sense of betrayal. My hands were shaking, my breath coming in short gasps.

  Absolutely not because I'd been walking nonstop for thirty minutes.

  [Master, I failed to account for the fact that you were unfamiliar with Ensidia. Going forward, I will take your lack of knowledge into consideration before—]

  Oh yeah? Then what's that?

  I jerked my chin toward another corner of the message window. A notification had been sitting there for a while, nagging at me.

  [Supreme-tier sword art detected — House Alba's 'Executor Blade.']

  [Cloning of this sword art is available.]

  [Proceed? (Y/N)]

  Executor Blade.

  That was the name for Meisa's sword art. Strong and expensive-sounding.

  Thinking back on it—the speed I couldn't even track with my eyes, the surgical precision of striking only the shoulders to subdue opponents.

  It absolutely lived up to the "supreme-tier" label. But…

  Terminal, I'm already in this mess from copying one advanced-tier art. A supreme-tier one? Be honest with me. Are you trying to get me killed?

  [No. That is not the case. I always prioritize your safety above all else—]

  Shut up, you're a spy, who sent you, are you trying to kill me on purpose—I went off on the Terminal with everything I had until I felt better.

  A solid ten-plus minutes of glorious verbal abuse.

  […I apologize. I am truly sorry. Henceforth, before offering any advice, I will evaluate potential consequences across the 72 dimensions you specified—]

  No, no, you don't have to go that far.

  I was just venting. Keep being straightforward with me. And thanks for always having my back.

  [? Chain of Thought (18 lines) | Expand ▼]

  The Terminal fell into thought. I, too, sank into deliberation.

  Today's remaining build quota: 1.

  Save that last slot for emergencies, or clone Meisa's sword art?

  This world—Ensidia—is a world obsessed with the sword.

  The caliber of my sword arts directly determined my odds of survival.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  So cloning Meisa's technique was the right call, but the fallout was the problem.

  [Ensidia's 'Sword Covenant' punishes sword art theft by severing the tendons of all four limbs. Additional retaliation from involved parties is also possible—]

  Meisa hailed from a prestigious house. If they found out I'd copied her art, I was as good as dead.

  Asking the Terminal to create something from scratch that surpassed the Executor Blade? That wasn't realistic. No matter how brilliant an AI is, conjuring a masterwork from nothing is a tall order.

  Better to take well-made code and iterate on it.

  Deliberation over. Decision made.

  You seize opportunities when they come.

  I can always refactor later! I could have the Terminal strip out the Executor Blade's distinctive traits afterward.

  Terminal, clone the Executor Blade.

  [An excellent choice. Among the Four Great Houses, House Alba is renowned for its clean and elegant swordsmanship.]

  The Four Great Houses? She was even more high-born than I thought.

  Just to be safe—upgrading my sword art level doesn't require, like, microtransactions or anything, right?

  [Unable to parse the term 'microtransactions.' Searching references…]

  Never mind, forget it. Just get the cloning done properly.

  A loading icon spun round and round. A message materialized before my eyes.

  [Initiating cloning of supreme-tier sword art — House Alba 'Executor Blade.' Time remaining: 122:38.]

  Far longer than the last art I'd copied.

  Didn't matter. It'd take plenty of time just to reach the town anyway.

  Watching the timer tick down, I glared at the back of the female knight's head as she led the way.

  Your sword art is mine now!

  The look of Cadeiro was nothing like I'd imagined.

  A wooden palisade ringing the settlement. Bustling, lively streets. Carts loaded with goods and crops rattling back and forth.

  When they said "village," I'd pictured some quaint little medieval Western hamlet—but this was closer to a small city.

  Terminal, what's the deal? This looks more like a city than a village.

  [Master, Cadeiro is indeed classified as a village. While it benefits from a favorable location, it does not meet the scale requirements for city designation—]

  What are you talking about? One look and you can tell hundreds of people live here. It has small-city energy. You seriously think this is a village?

  Times like this, best to consult an expert.

  "…Quite a large city you've got here."

  "Obviously. It's the most developed city in the region over the past twenty years. Where are you from that you don't even know that?"

  I didn't bother responding to Meisa's blunt reply. I did, however, enthusiastically chew out the Terminal for being wrong. Before I knew it, we'd arrived at the garrison headquarters.

  The power of public authority, I suppose? Every finishing detail of the building showed real care. They'd even paved the stone floors!

  Meisa led me and the Bruno Brotherhood straight to the garrison captain's office.

  Creeeeak.

  A heavy wooden door swung open. Beyond a wooden desk sitting on a spacious stone floor, a portly middle-aged man was seated. Judging by his age and build, this had to be the garrison captain himself.

  On the other side sat a young guardsman.

  Tension written all over his face. His posture was textbook-perfect—regulation to the bone.

  I straightened up without even thinking.

  We turtle-neck types have this terrible habit of believing a few seconds of good posture will magically fix our necks.

  Anyway, the moment the captain saw us—specifically Meisa—his face went white.

  "Executor! My deepest apologies! To think that you personally had to deal with petty criminals like these…"

  Trembling pupils. Cold sweat rolling down.

  I was getting nervous just watching.

  "It's fine. I had business in Cadeiro anyway. But there was an error in the intel."

  "I—I beg your pardon? An error?"

  "The Bruno Brotherhood was listed as four members, wasn't it? There was one more."

  "What? No, that can't be right…"

  The captain rummaged through his documents in a panic.

  After a moment, he pulled out several files and laid them on the desk. Dossiers on the Bruno Brotherhood.

  "Yes, four members confirmed. Who is the additional individual?"

  "Him."

  Meisa's gaze swung toward me.

  "He used the same sword art as Bruno."

  "Truly? Even setting aside his criminal status, Bruno's technique is a hereditary art. Unless he's family, how could—?"

  "Exactly why I brought him. To investigate."

  Meisa's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

  "Then we'll know for certain. That this man is connected to the Bruno Brotherhood."

  The captain looked back and forth between me and the wanted posters, bewildered, then shifted his gaze to my side.

  The four members of the Bruno Brotherhood sat in a row, all nursing injured shoulders.

  "Rookie, take these four to the holding cells—their charges are confirmed. Grab a Sword-Reading Stone from the civil affairs office on your way back."

  "Yes sir. But the Sword-Reading Stone? That's only used for resident registration—"

  "Rookie."

  The captain pressed one hand against his forehead as if thoroughly drained.

  "I've told you how many times now that it's also used for identity verification? Just go already…?"

  The guardsman, who'd been sitting at perfect attention, scrambled to his feet. The four Brotherhood members followed.

  Thud. Thud. Stop.

  Just before leaving the room, Bruno's footsteps halted.

  He turned to look at me. Eyes brimming with longing.

  "Wait for m—!"

  I squeezed my eyes shut at his parting words.

  Wait for what? Don't wait for me!

  After a short while, the rookie guardsman returned—carrying a thick, notebook-sized gray stone tablet.

  Thunk.

  He set the tablet down in front of me. Meisa, who'd been leaning against the wall glaring at me, spoke up.

  "Place both hands on it."

  What is this? Touch ID?

  Confused, I glanced around. The captain was still sweating bullets, while Meisa wore a look of smug confidence.

  "Wh—what are you waiting for?! Do as the Executor says!"

  The captain's bark wasn't particularly intimidating. Still, I figured cooperating was my best shot at proving my innocence.

  The instant I reluctantly placed both hands on the stone—

  Hm?

  A foreign sensation bloomed inside my head. Like thin threads probing through my mind. Simultaneously, a message appeared.

  [The Sword-Reading Stone is attempting to analyze your sword arts.]

  [Which project would you like to grant access to? ? 1. Unnamed Sword Art 2. Unnamed Sword Art (1) 3. Anti-Goblin Sword Art 4. Euria Sword Art 5. House Alba 'Executor Blade' (In progress… 39%) ]

  I knew instinctively. Picking 4 or 5 would be the same as signing my own death warrant. Then again, options 1 and 2 were too crude to even call sword arts.

  Go with 3.

  [Granting access to Option 3, 'Anti-Goblin Sword Art'…]

  A moment later, patterns spread across the stone from my fingertips. Glowing green, metaphysical patterns.

  The Executor kept comparing the pattern emanating from my hands with the documents she held. Her expression soured by the second.

  "Hmm… Executor. I'm not sure how to put this…"

  "Well? The similarity has to be at least 95%, right?"

  "No… that's the thing…"

  The captain spoke haltingly, as if trying to crawl away from his own words.

  "The similarity is virtually nonexistent. Below 30%…?"

  "What? That's impossible!"

  Meisa's voice cracked with agitation.

  The female knight snatched the documents from the captain's hands. Apparently they contained the pattern corresponding to Bruno's sword art.

  I wasn't worried in the slightest. Whatever pattern was drawn on those papers, there was no chance it matched what I'd produced.

  The 'Anti-Goblin Sword Art' was something the Terminal had built from scratch, after all.

  "This can't be…! I saw it with my own eyes!"

  "With all due respect, Executor, I believe you as well, but… with a disparity this large, detention simply isn't viable. Is it possible you may have been mista—?"

  "How could I be?! I know what I saw! But then why does the result show—?"

  Meisa's eyes darted between me and the file, her composure cracking. The panic was visible from where I stood.

  The captain's face had gone ashen by now too.

  Timing.

  "I told you. I'm innocent."

  "…What?"

  Meisa bit down on her lip.

  Bewilderment, confusion, suspicion. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled in the knight's blue eyes.

  The sword art Meisa witnessed? It was definitely Bruno's. But too bad—the physical evidence said otherwise.

  She had to be reeling. Not that I had any sympathy to spare for a bruised ego.

  "Apologize."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You dragged an innocent person all the way here. A victim of the very bandits you arrested, no less."

  "What—! Bruno himself called you his brother—!"

  "That's their one-sided claim. I denied it from the start. So, how did the results turn out?"

  Before the irrefutable evidence of the Sword-Reading Stone—clear proof that my sword art and Bruno's were nothing alike—Meisa had no words.

  The captain, on the other hand, found plenty.

  "How dare you! Speaking that way in this very office?! To Lady Alba, scion of the house that governs the East, Executor of the Law—!"

  "…Enough."

  Meisa silenced the captain mid-tirade.

  The brown-haired knight in her pristine white armor rose to her feet, looking exhausted.

  After returning the stone and the documents to the desk, she stood there for a long moment. Still as stone, her profile facing me.

  I could see her lip, bitten white.

  Meisa agonized in silence for what felt like an eternity.

  And finally, unable to meet my eyes, she turned and walked out of the room.

  "…I'm sorry."

  An apology barely louder than an ant's whisper.

  SLAM!

  A vicious slam of the door.

  The moment it shut, the captain collapsed into his chair.

  Every ounce of strength seemed to drain from his body.

  A middle-aged man sighing, dabbing the sweat from his brow.

  Built like a mountain, but nervous as a kitten.

  Are the Four Great Houses really that big a deal?

  [Yes, Master. The Four Great Houses are the kingdom of Ensidia's foundational noble families, each governing one of the four cardinal territories surrounding the crown.]

  So that explains the reaction. According to what the Terminal told me earlier, Cadeiro also fell under House Alba's domain.

  Probably felt like having the company's VP show up unannounced at some ground-level branch office. The captain, now staring blankly into space, looked almost pitiable.

  "Good lord… What a day…"

  After sitting there in a daze, the captain finally turned to me. Is this the same guy who was shouting just now? With the tension gone, his expression was downright gentle.

  "Seems there was a misunderstanding."

  He cut the rope around my wrists with a short blade.

  "No hard feelings. These things happen on the job."

  "That aside—are you from out of town? Your pattern doesn't match any of our registered residents."

  "Ah, I came from pretty far out in the countryside…"

  "Happens all the time. Since you've already got a pattern reading, just take this copy to the civil affairs office next door and—"

  The false charges cleared, I was in the middle of getting my identity registered when—

  "Captain! I have a question!"

  The rookie guardsman in the back shot his hand up.

  "Sure, Rookie. What is it?"

  A flat, disinterested tone. Undeterred, the young guardsman pressed on.

  "There's a missing procedural step! Per Article 7, Section 3 of the Royal Guard Service Regulations, any individual of unconfirmed identity must, prior to identity registration—"

  Gulp. He swallowed hard mid-sentence. The look on his face was that of someone who'd stumbled onto a massive discovery and couldn't contain himself.

  "—be treated as a suspected 'Stranger from the Stars' and cross-referenced against all existing composite sketches!"

  Stranger from the Stars?

  What the hell is that?