The Fool’s Resolve

This was no whim on Sovenia’s part.

In her field of vision, a golden card hovered above the Slime King’s head, a massive question mark at its center. Beside it floated a brass treasure chest.

Sovenia’s heart hammered like a war drum—a beat, unfortunately, for a quivering blob of goo.

‘A gold card! And a treasure chest!’

In her past life, she would have already devised a way to attack and seize such tempting spoils.

The premise of enemies dropping cards was simple: the weaker the foe, the lower the card’s quality, if one dropped at all. Conversely, a stronger enemy yielded a higher-quality card and might even come with additional loot.

Killing this creature would grant her a powerful gold card. Their effects were myriad, some useful, some not.

But for her current, fragile elven body, any gold card would be a significant boost. Moreover, the chest guaranteed a reward—a tangible, bona fide treasure.

And that wasn’t all.

Her gaze swept across the writhing slime marsh. Gray cards, also marked with question marks, floated above the heads of slimes both large and small.

If she killed enough of them, she could surely assemble a full deck and finally shed this pathetic, weakling form.

*Thump, thump, thump.*

Sovenia’s pulse quickened.

‘Once I’m strong enough, I can find my own head,’ she schemed. ‘This foolish mutt will have outlived his usefulness. Then I can backstab him and take his cards too.’

All she had to do was toss a stone into the “lake,” revealing their position. The Slime King would lunge for them.

And the foolish mutt beside her would surely draw his sword to protect her. All she needed to do was steal the kill.

Sovenia could barely restrain herself from throwing the stone.

Just then, Wawalde’s voice sounded in her ear. “Miss Sovenia, do not be afraid. I am right here beside you.”

He had heard her racing heartbeat and, mistaking it for fear, turned to reassure her.

Sovenia quickly hid the stone, a pang of guilt making her nod stiffly in response.

As Wawalde’s face—the half scarred crimson—and his sword came into sharp focus, the floodgates of memory burst open.

****

The throne room.

A three-way battle raged between the Demon Queen, the hero’s party, and the traitorous Jimi the Cruel.

Roars, crashes, and curses melded into a deafening cacophony.

Jimi the Cruel, the First Heavenly King, had drawn a terrible hand. Not a single defensive card.

The flash of Wawalde’s sword was like lightning. Her vision spun, and she saw her own headless body, burning blood gushing from its neck.

****

The cold touch of death still seemed to linger on her neck. She couldn’t help but reach up to touch it. Her head was still there.

This body was far too weak. Wawalde could sever her head with a single, effortless strike.

It didn’t even have to be Wawalde. Any adult male with a week of swordsmanship training could kill or maim her with one clean hit.

A bucket of ice water extinguished the flames of her greed.

The risk was too high.

No matter the reward, it meant nothing if she was dead.

Yet, a missed opportunity was a missed opportunity.

Once she regained her power, these weak slimes would no longer register as “strong” opponents in her eyes, and they would cease to provide her with any cards.

That was the rule of her ability: the weak offered nothing.

Sovenia took a deep breath, forcing her frustration down.

She looked up, her expression once again serene.

“We should not linger here,” Sovenia said. “I believe I recall a path that will take us around this place. Let us go.”

She turned to lead the way but noticed Wawalde hadn’t moved.

He remained crouched behind the stalagmite, his body taut as a fully drawn bow. His eyes were fixed on the Slime King just ahead, one hand gripping his sword’s hilt.

He looked ready to charge at any moment.

Sovenia moved closer and followed his gaze toward the massive, dark-green gelatinous blob. Countless corpses drifted within the Slime King, a macabre mixture of white bone and rotting flesh.

“What is it?” she asked. “Did you see something?”

Wawalde answered without turning, his voice low. “That… that corpse in the iron armor… It’s my companion, Bart.”

He pointed to a spot inside the Slime King.

Sovenia saw it then: a broken shell of a man, his chestplate, emblazoned with the image of a boar, barely visible through the slime.

“He was a good man, Miss Sovenia,” Wawalde said, his voice thick with painful memories. “He was just a minor knight when he joined us. Said he was from the southern wheat fields, a farmer before all this.”

“He told me his greatest wish was to go home and open a bakery. He wanted to use the wheat he grew himself to bake the most fragrant bread in town. He said his daughter loved his honey bread more than anything…”

“He only took up the sword so his family could live without the fear of demons. He would have given anything for that.”

‘Bread? A daughter?’

Sovenia couldn’t fathom the meaning of such concepts.

To her, the weak were resources, sacrifices for the demon gods, rungs on a ladder to be stepped on. The value of a comrade lay in their utility in battle. A dead comrade was useless trash.

Saddened by a useless corpse? How strange.

“We should go,” Sovenia said calmly. “We don’t have much time to waste.”

Wawalde slowly turned to face her, his voice low with apology.

“Forgive me, Miss Sovenia. I’m afraid we’ll have to stay here a while longer. I must… I must delay your precious escape.”

“I don’t understand. Why?”

“Bart was a hero,” Wawalde’s voice grew firm. “He sacrificed himself for humanity and the empire. He does not deserve to become monster food, only to end up as a pile of excrement. It shouldn’t be this way… Miss Sovenia, it shouldn’t.”

“Slime excretion works through decomposition and absorption,” Sovenia said coolly. “It’s not dirty—at least, it’s cleaner than you think.”

“Regardless!” Wawalde’s voice rose slightly. “I have to get him out. At the very least, I must retrieve his insignia and give it to his daughter. It will bring his family comfort and give them something to be proud of.”

“A martyr who died for humanity must not meet such an end.”

Sovenia fell silent, staring at Wawalde.

‘He wants to challenge that massive monster for a dead piece of meat? For a worthless, powerless insignia?’

She asked, “Is there a blessing for this?”

“A what?”

‘No reward at all. This is utterly, astoundingly foolish.’

But then, a wave of elation washed over her.

‘However, I do enjoy this brand of foolishness.’

“So, what is your plan?” she asked, a hint of anticipation in her voice she didn’t even recognize herself.

Wawalde drew his scorched longsword.

“I’m going to kill that thing, and then I’m bringing Bart out.”

‘Foolish mutt. You’re a fool to the core,’ Sovenia sneered inwardly. ‘Had I known you were this gullible, I would have pretended to be some elven prince and sent you to bite the Demon Queen.’

Sovenia immediately shifted into a combat stance. She crouched, opened the black leather pack, and spread three magic scrolls on the ground: Force Sphere, Shadow Walk, and Ascendant Ring Fireball.

“Very well. Since you’ve decided,” she said, her finger tapping the Fireball scroll, “then listen to me. I have a plan…”

Before she could finish.

“Thank you.”

Wawalde had already bent down, gathered all three scrolls, and stuffed them into his own pocket.

“Miss Sovenia, please stand back,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Get behind that stone pillar over there. It’s safe.”

Sovenia glanced at the pillar. It was too far. “How can I support you if I’m all the way over there? A battle is not a one-man affair.”

“The coming fight will be extremely dangerous,” Wawalde said, his expression grim. “I cannot allow you to be put in harm’s way. Please, stay back. This is a knight’s request.”

Sovenia finally understood.

He didn’t consider her a combatant at all. In his eyes, she was just a helpless elven princess.

She was a burden. A weakling.

Fury ignited in the pit of her stomach.

‘This foolish mutt! He scorns me! Who does he think I am? Some weak female? I was building monuments from the skulls of my enemies when your great-great-grandfather was nothing but a puddle of unidentified fluid!’

‘Fine. I’ll remember this provocation. When I finally backstab you, I’ll be sure to give the blade an extra twist.’

Though she cursed him with the foulest words in her mind, what came out was quite different.

“No! I am not weak. And the enemy is strong. How can you possibly face such a massive monster alone? I must stay and help you!”

To her, she was questioning, even challenging his strength.

But Wawalde was visibly moved as he looked at her.

He thought she possessed none of a princess’s petulance. She was so beautiful, like a sliver of white moonlight, utterly out of place in this dark, filthy cave, yet she was willing to stand with him, to care for him.

Wawalde said, “I appreciate the sentiment, Miss Sovenia. But please, trust that I can handle this. Your presence here would only distract me.”

“Do not underestimate me, Hero Wawalde!” Sovenia straightened her back, playing her only card. “As an elven princess, I command you. Besides, I have memories of knowledge about this monster. I know its weakness. I will not be a burden to you!”

Wawalde was stunned, a newfound respect blooming within him. He had thought her a delicate flower in need of protection, but he never expected she possessed such a courageous soul.

Of course, it was the soul of Jimi the Cruel.

“…I was presumptuous, Miss Sovenia. Please forgive my rudeness.” Wawalde offered a sincere apology. “In that case, would you be willing to share your wisdom? How should we deal with this behemoth?”