I Picked Up a Witch from a Novel

Episode 0-a. The One Who Moves Forward.

The human race tends to cluster together in similar groups.

Not limited to humans, all living beings seem to behave this way.

From a broader perspective.

They form clans under a common ancestor, and tribes under a strong leader.

They establish a nation and unite under a ruler.

They become a community that encompasses an entire continent, using the concept of race as their boundary.

From a smaller perspective.

There are those who marry and start families, having children to continue their lives.

There are those who continue in the same profession due to connections formed in the same school.

Or there are adventurers like me who come together to form a party.

In other words, the groups that come together, whether big or small, are composed of similar entities.

The society of elites had a massive wall that only elites could enter.

The society of ordinary people had a door that could only be crossed by discussing ordinariness.

So.

According to that theory, in the society of inept adventurers, those who are inept or lacking in something band together to create a social structure, which was the conclusion I came to.

And I was inept.

So, around me were companions who were lacking something, or were inept or strange in their own ways.

A mid-level adventurer who couldn’t escape the essence of being an extra despite assigning themselves a role.

Twin siblings who, despite not intending to, ended up as war orphans.

And a quack plague doctor who taught themselves a despised form of medicine, unable to even attempt to learn holy arts from the church.

Even if I set aside the other two individuals I hadn’t introduced, this place was already home to a bizarre group that was more than enough.

So.

“Um… Ain, I failed. Ho, do you perhaps have any thoughts of going back to find the sun plant…?”

“Hey, you bastard.”

I immediately cursed at them.

“No…, there are still two roots left, so not right now, but it would be better if you mentally prepared yourself…”

“Why don’t you just say directly that you want me dead?”

If I didn’t curse at this crazy quack doctor who was telling me to prepare to climb that snowy mountain again, then I wouldn’t be just a mediocre adventurer, I’d at least be someone who has grasped something.

So, seeing them say such things after losing one root, I couldn’t help but wonder if they wanted to kill me for real.

“That can’t be. Why would I kill my valuable source of materials? If I just sit and eat dumplings, you’ll be supplying me with research materials…”

“….”

That thought was quickly retracted after hearing their next words.

“Haha…, I’ll succeed with the next root. So, if you could leave the room without putting pressure on me, the success rate might rise to about 10%…”

“If you don’t succeed, be prepared.”

“The elimination of the plague is my mission. There is no failure in my life.”

Because of this, I glared at their hunched back for a while before finally closing the door and stepping outside.

And.

A little more time passed.

I heard awkward laughter coming from their room once again.

“Haha… Ain, perhaps you should start preparing to depart… Uh, it seems it’s tough at 10% due to a lack of equipment.”

“Do you want to die?”

In this world, have I ever seen such a bastard?

At this point, it seemed that it wasn’t that they had no failures in life, but rather, failures were all they knew.

Perhaps it was due to being a quack doctor, but their mission and life felt very light.

So.

I left Avery, who was awkwardly smiling and wishing me luck for success, in the room and stepped outside the lodging.

Even if I cursed at them more and urged them, they wouldn’t produce any decent results, so I had a destination to prepare to ascend the snowy mountain again.

The place I am currently in is the northern snowy country of Krepen, somewhat distanced from the duchy.

I had been staying here for about half a year, and it was where I had finally welcomed someone from Krepen as a companion.

So nearby the lodging, there was a smith who has not yet joined us, staying there alone.

The blacksmith Horn.

To put it simply, he was the first dwarf I met.

Basically, the various races are quite closed off from one another.

Humans are with humans, elves are with elves, beastfolk are with beastfolk.

From ogres, fairies, spirits to dwarves, dragons, and demons.

They all interact only with their own kinds, making it quite difficult to see them unless you directly step into their territories.

Of course, it wasn’t that they were hostile to each other, but there were certainly strict territories that only became accessible after becoming an advanced adventurer.

The efforts I made to raise my adventurer rank were, after all, to enter into places like those.

Nevertheless.

To put it simply, dwarves remained only in their own territories.

While they might interact with humans, they never stayed in the realm of human nations.

They are a race that cares for one another, not hating one another at all, and are thus tightly knit among various clans.

I had thought it was impossible to even catch a glimpse of them before stepping foot into their territories.

“Horn, old man.”

“What.”

“Can you repair this robe for me?”

“Kid, I’m a blacksmith, not a tailor.”

There was a quirky dwarf who had come out alone to live in human territory.

“You must take responsibility for the items you make and repair them yourself. Here, you see, there are a few wolf teeth stuck in it.”

“I thought you were saying something crazy about climbing the snowy mountains, but you went to get yourself eaten by a wolf.”

I don’t know why he chose to live in the human realm.

He was a character not found in novels, and he didn’t share his story either, being a dwarf.

“But since it seems I have to go again today, please repair it carefully.”

“…, you’re crazy. Hand it over, and I’ll repair it.”

I thought he might share his story once we became closer and started to understand each other, but the distance still felt like it was several steps away.

He was an elderly dwarf with his beard long enough to touch the ground.

Bang—bang—

The sound of a hammer striking an anvil rang out refreshingly.

Each time the sound echoed, sparks flew brilliantly and quickly disappeared like embers.

Though I wondered why the anvil and hammer were necessary in the process of repairing the robe, considering their performance, it was undoubtedly a necessary process.

Bang—bang—

The sound fills the forge in a steady rhythm.

The flames in the furnace roared strongly, causing even me, who was standing some distance away, to sweat drops of perspiration.

Old Horn tossed aside his shirt, sweating profusely, and continued hammering away.

The harmony created by the flames, anvil, and hammer produced a scene more beautiful than I expected and as I stared blankly at this flickering scene, I found myself taking out my beads and tapping them to match the rhythm.

From the furnace came a crackling sound as ash flew.

This was a little darker and a tad less appealing than what I had wrapped the woman in, but it vividly brought back memories.

The gloomy and unmistakably gray color.

That has now become a beautiful color for me.

Watching it become blurred and murky causes my heart to pound—thump— and my vision to blur slightly in a hazy manner.

Perhaps I regretted setting out on this journey.

Perhaps I had been secretly hoping to stay in the Empire forever.

The things that had piled up during that past time had become something foundational that constitutes who I am.

Thus, whenever I think of these memories, I find myself chewing on my lips out of frustration, trying to suppress the pounding of my heart.

The stories of my loving parents, the story of Uncle Rendo who helped me.

The stories of Janssen, who always welcomed me, and even Rini, Ildrin, who might be a bit unusual but took care of me.

And.

The woman named Asha, who had always been with me since childhood.

The fragments of these memories do not disappear with time, but gradually rise from my toes and continue until they pile up again in me.

Even after all the questions from my childhood were resolved, new questions bloom within me.

Are they simple memories?

Or are they different feelings?

I am foolish, unable to add certainty to that.

Thus, as I drift between dreams and reality.

“Kid, the repair is done. Don’t just stand there vacant, take it.”

“…, yes. Thank you.”

“If you’ve done everything you needed, then just leave.”

Soon enough, feeling the weight of the robe placed on my hands.

I snap out of a dream that’s shattered and scattered.

So.

I once again donned the robe.

Carefully putting the beads that I had tightly grasped into my bosom.

I sneaked a glance at the bracelet that was still tied firmly.

With a click of my tongue, I set out to walk.

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