Revenge of the Soul Eater: Cast Out as a Weakling by My Sword Saint Father Volume 2 (eBook)

Gyokuto (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025
250 Seiten
J-Novel Club (Verlag)
978-1-7183-3976-7 (ISBN)

Infos

After crawling out from his depths of despair, Sora-now reborn as the Soul Eater-has begun his revenge on the adventuring party that betrayed him: the Falcon Blades. With one of its members already in servitude to him, he sets his sights on the warrior priestess Iria as his next target. When Raz and Iria go their separate ways after a heated argument, Sora heads to Iria's home village, the ailing Merte, to set up the groundwork for the next stage of his plan. But before he can act, a formidable foe gets in his way...

Textauszug

She looked older than me, probably in her early twenties. Her vivid golden locks and amethyst eyes suggested she might hail from nobility. Her skin was as white as snow, and her face curved in all the ideal spots. Her lips were also full and round. She looked exactly like a cloistered princess from a fairy tale. Yet despite that, the aura she gave off was anything but delicate. That stood to reason, considering I could see she had a sword at her hip, and just at a glance, I could tell that the weapon was no mere decoration. The way she was standing didn’t leave any openings either.

The moment her eyes met mine, the first thought that came to my mind was Whoa, she’s tough. The toughest person I knew of in Ishka was Elgart Quis, a Level 35 adventurer and the town’s guildmaster. Yet I suspected this woman could give him a run for his money or even surpass him entirely. Behind her dainty appearance, I could sense an immeasurable wellspring of strength.

My next immediate thought was Whoa, she’s tall. Her silver boots were the combat variety, meaning there were no heels to add to her height. And yet, she was still taller than me. I hadn’t measured myself recently or anything, but the last time I checked, I was around 175 centimeters. By that metric, this woman was probably over 180. Her long limbs were toned and muscular, like a seasoned warrior’s. Truthfully there was nothing “girly” about them, but her proportions were so well-balanced overall that they didn’t seem too manly either. She looked like someone who’d had natural talent from birth and through years of tireless effort had only honed that talent further.

There was also no doubt that she was from a well-to-do family. Her clothes had clearly been sewn from the finest threads, and her armored boots and chestplate were gleaming silver. There was no way she was a mere adventurer or local guard. She had to be a knight, and a rather high-ranking one at that.

The problem was that the sun had yet to even fully rise. Why is someone like this here, in my stable, first thing in the morning? I thought, question marks filling my mind. And as though about to answer my doubts, the woman slowly opened her mouth to speak.

“I-I’m...”

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry!” she cried, bowing to me abruptly and with such force that I nearly jumped. Her apology was so intense that her hair whipped through the air.

With widened eyes, I stared dumbfoundedly at the back of her bowed head. Truthfully, considering her obvious pedigree, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d shouted, “Just who do you think you’re goggling at, you pervert?!” which made her reaction that much more shocking.

Oblivious to my surprise, however, the woman continued to apologize. “Please forgive me! I’d heard rumors that there was a wyvern in this stable and wanted to see it for myself, but there wasn’t anyone around...and it was so early in the morning that I doubted anyone would notice if I just took a little peek...”

“You just wanted to take a peek, huh? And yet here you are, trespassing and petting my wyvern.”

“Forgive me!” she repeated. “I was going to take a look and leave, but I never expected it’d be an indigo wyvern, and I just couldn’t help myself! No, that’s actually a lie,” she muttered. “I did hear that it was an indigo wyvern, but they’re so wild and unruly that I couldn’t quite believe a human had managed to tame one. I was certain the rumors were false.”

Apparently, she’d never seen a real one before, and, her curiosity winning out, she’d decided to not only look but touch. Now that I understood the situation, I urged her to raise her head.

“No, don’t worry, you don’t need to apologize. If the wyvern let you pet it, it must have taken a liking to you.”

Continuing to have a woman of clearly higher status bow to me wouldn’t be good for my mental health, so I had her stop.

In response, she raised her head, looking relieved. “I’m grateful for your generosity. And before I go, while it pains me to do so, would you mind if I took advantage of that generosity to ask you one question?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Would I be correct in assuming that you are this indigo wyvern’s master?”

“That’s right,” I nodded.

Her eyes narrowed in an appraising look, as though trying to size me up. But it was only for an instant before her gaze returned to normal. Then she looked down at the basket I was carrying. Interpreting her wordless question, I pulled out one of the fruits inside and showed her.

“This is an anzu fruit. They’re the wyvern’s breakfast.”

“Anzu, you say? The wyvern really eats those? If memory serves, uncooked anzu are hard as a rock and awfully sour. But...aren’t wyverns carnivores?”

“Generally, yes, but some past traumatic experiences have apparently turned this one on to the deliciousness of fruit,” I said, tossing the fist-sized anzu into the wyvern’s open mouth. The creature chirped with delight before snapping it in its jaws. Indeed, anzu fruit was hard to bite and cut into, but it was no match for the wyvern’s sharp teeth. It crunched down on the fruit, chewing happily, and devoured it in no time at all.

Of course, the “traumatic experience” I’d alluded to was the wyvern being attacked and poisoned by the manticores, after which the curative fruit Jirai Ao Ochs had given it a taste for the fruit. At the time, it hadn’t been a fan of the acidity and had cried out rather loudly in anguish, but because the sour fruit had restored its health, the creature had come to mentally equate it with being good for the body and now requested it regularly. Of course, it’d be a pain to have to go to Titus Forest for Jirai Ao Ochs fruits every day, so I’d chosen a more widely available hard-to-eat sour fruit as a substitute.

Watching the wyvern chow down so happily, the woman looked taken aback. “Were indigo wyverns always this partial to fruit? No, actually...I do recall that fruit was among their fodder, but I’ve never heard of a wild indigo wyvern willingly eating anything sour...”

She folded her arms, muttering to herself in thought again. Perhaps it was an unconscious habit of hers. My eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to her ample chest between the gap in her folded arms, but I got the feeling she’d notice if I stared, so I forced myself to look away.

I’d expected her to press me next on the traumatic experience I’d mentioned, but it seemed she was trying to avoid prying too much, because when she next spoke, it was on a different topic.

“By the way, I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t called the wyvern by its name. Have you not decided on a name, by any chance?”

“Well, it’s not the first time someone’s asked that, but no, it doesn’t have a name yet. It doesn’t seem to like any of the names I’ve chosen so far. Each time I suggest one, it just gives me this sorrowful look.”

“Did any of those names you suggested contain your own name within them? That’s probably why.”

“Huh? My own name?” I wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

The woman looked up at the wyvern happily munching on the fruit and smiled. “Wyverns prefer their names to include the name of those they recognize as their master, and the more intelligent the wyvern, the more particular they are about it. Considering this one can already understand human speech, it probably really wants a name similar to its master’s.”

“Really? First I’ve heard of that. My name’s Sora, so the name just has to have ‘Sora’ in it, right? Let’s see...Sorari? Sorara? Soran?” I tried voicing some names, and lo and behold, the wyvern didn’t seem to be immediately averse to them like the others. I was on a roll, so I decided to get a little more creative. “Soramichi? Misora? Sorato? Soralis? Hmm...I feel like we’re on to something, but I’d kind of like to give it a cooler name, you know?”

The wyvern nodded and cooed as if in agreement.

“Hold on, I’ve got this. It’s on the tip of my tongue... Sorasa. Sorashoi. Soras. Or...we could just go all out and call you Soratarou?”

The wyvern chirped angrily.

“Ow! Hey, watch the tail! C’mon, I was just joking! I’ll give you a proper name!”

Meanwhile, the woman clapped her fist in her hand as though she’d just thought of something. “Oh! How about ‘Claimh Soras’?”

“Huh? Claimh Soras?”

“Yes! In the ancient tongue, it means ‘sword of flame’!”

“Ooh, sword of flame? That does sound cool! And ‘flame’ is perfect, since this is a wyvern we’re talking about! What do you think? Oh, looks like I didn’t even need to ask, huh?”

The wyvern chirped joyously, flapping its wings with glee.

Hey, you’re blowing dust everywhere, so stop that.

“All right, from now on, your name is Claimh Soras!”

At my declaration, the wyvern raised its long neck high and shrieked proudly. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but it almost looked like it was trying to adopt a gallant, dignified expression. I stroked its neck gently, then turned to the woman once more.

“I appreciate the good name suggestion, Miss, er...”

“You may call me Astrid. And thank you too....

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 26.8.2025
• Reihe/Serie: Revenge of the Soul Eater: Cast Out as a Weakling by My Sword Saint Father
• Mitarbeit: Sonstige Mitarbeit: Gyokuto
• Übersetzer: Gyokuto
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Schlagworte: chuunibyou • Dragons • Light Novel • Magic • revenge • Violence
• ISBN-10: 1-7183-3976-3 / 1718339763
• ISBN-13: 978-1-7183-3976-7 / 9781718339767