Amid an untamed wilderness, a small camp materializes within the scenery. The glowing fire casts an amber light through the trees, betraying its presence in the darkness. The Swords of Darkness sit on their log seats, faces etched with exhaustion, bodies yearning for respite—yet finding solace in their humble haven. The campsite is sparse: their wagon set aside while the beast that pulls it grazes on a line nearby. Small tents and sleeping bags circle the crackling fire at its center, casting a dim, comforting light that seems to beckon the group closer.
As fatigue settles in their bones, the aroma of simmering meat and potato stew drifts through the air, capturing their attention. The scent works like an elixir, cutting through the weariness and rekindling the fading embers of their spirits. The stew, hot and hearty, promises to fill their stomachs for a long night's rest. Connor sits on the ground, leaning against a tree, tuning his banjo with practiced fingers, another instrument resting against the same trunk. The gentle changes in tune fill the air with a calming melody. Nearby, Nabe sits on a log, observing her master and the rest of the campsite with careful eyes.
The cauldron hanging above the fire groans under the weight of the hearty stew. Soon, Peter calls the group to gather around as he ladles the savory contents into bowls. Chunks of tender meat mingle with potatoes, their intermingling scents filling the campsite, making most of the inhabitants' mouths water. The group moves to gather around the fire to eat and keep company with their companions. Connor wanders over with Nabe in tow, a guitar now in hand.
"Here you are, Sir Connor," Ninya says, handing the Ranger a steaming bowl and spoon. He returns to the pot, fills another bowl, and gives it to Connor's companion. "And here you are, Nabe."
"Thanks, little brother," Connor says, affectionately rubbing the small brunette's head while Nabe acknowledges the gesture with a simple nod, bowl in hand. Sitting down on the dusty ground, Connor crosses his legs for comfort while Nabe kneels elegantly beside him. Their contrasting postures make Lukrut wonder how such an elegant beauty ended up with such a rugged man.
As the group settles and begins tearing bread to share, Connor removes his helmet and gazes into his bowl. 'It can't be worse than hospital food...' he thinks as he lifts the bowl to his lips and drinks the broth, testing his Android's capacity for discerning taste. "Hmmmnnn~ It's been so long..." Connor murmurs, savoring the elixir on his artificial tongue, letting the salts and herbs melt in his mouth before swallowing, warming his core.
'Tastes like something mom would make...' Connor thinks, taking a morsel of meat into his mouth and letting it melt away, then pausing, '...when she came to visit...' His face scrunches in bitterness at the memory. He sets his bowl down to process the sudden recollection. Nabe, who had begun eating after seeing her master eat, pauses when he does.
"Is there something wrong, Connor?" she asks with legitimate concern.
Connor's eyes meet hers, the sadness in them putting her on high alert. His unusual behavior doesn't just concern Nabe, however.
"Is there something wrong, Sir Connor?" Peter asks, noting the man's thousand-yard stare.
The Android in question focuses on the group watching him, suddenly self-conscious.
"I'm fine."
"You sure? Is there something wrong with the stew?" Ninya questions, inspecting their own portion for anything amiss. Having made it themselves, they feel both offended and concerned.
"Nah, nah... Magnifique. It just reminded me of ma mère. My mom. Sour subject." Connor switches from French to English, his expression clearly saying, 'I don't want to talk about it, thank you.'
"We understand," Peter reassures, then pauses, "...Well, we don't understand-understand, but we get you; we won't pry into your business."
Connor chuckles. "Why thank you, brother," he says, taking another spoonful of the delicious broth and meat, savoring its hearty goodness. Nabe continues eating, keeping a concerned eye on her Lord until he looks up at the group again. "Oh! Now I hope ya'll don't mind, but color me curious, where did ya'll get your name? Swords of Darkness?"
Lukrut's lips spread into a teasing smile. "Ah, haha, that? That's a funny story! Isn't that right, Nin-"
"Please stop!" Ninya interrupts, pleading desperately. "It was a stupid kid's mistake!"
"There's no reason to be ashamed, Ninya," Dyne reassures the distressed young individual.
"C'mon, guys..." Ninya pleads.
Peter coughs into his hand. "Uh... The Swords of Darkness come from the swords of one of the Thirteen Heroes." He says with pride.
'Que? That's all? Gotta be more context here...' Connor thinks. Fortunately, Nabe speaks for him. "Who are they?"
"So you don't know, Nabe?" Lukrut asks teasingly.
"The Swords of Darkness are the four swords that the one called 'Black Knight' owned," Ninya adds, though even with that context, Nabe remains impassive.
Lukrut leans toward her. "Well, you see, it's our group's ultimate goal to find those swords."
"And until we get our hands on them, this is our symbol," Peter says, drawing a small black dagger from its sheath to show Connor and Nabe.
"How can you be sure these swords are even real?" Connor asks, thinking, 'Though myths have hints of truth, it's not much...'
Lukrut raises his arms and unsheathes his own ebony dagger, watching the blade shine in the firelight. "Real or fake has nothing to do with it," he says. "These represent the creation of our team, either way." The others draw their daggers too, each black as night.
Dyne chuckles. "Well, look at that. Lukrut said something good for once," he says, scratching his bearded chin.
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean!" Lukrut exclaims in offense, the group finding humor in his reaction.
Peter snickers. "C'mon, we gotta praise him every once in a while."
"HEY!"
'This is nice... The camaraderie. It's refreshing. It reminds me of Nazarick, collecting items, building materials, grinding levels... Good times. I hope they're doing okay. Peroroncino probably has an even bigger hoard of porn, haha!' Connor thinks fondly of that perverted birdman.
"Do all Adventurers get along well with their team like this?" Nphirea asks Peter, who's watching his friends bicker good-naturedly.
"Gotta have to; we watch each other's backs. Trust our lives to one another." Peter says with pride for his group, making Nphirea smile at his enthusiasm.
"That. And our group is all boys! I've heard that girls in a team can cause some issues. Lots of distractions," Lukrut says, offering his opinion. "Plus, our group has a common goal, too. So, we're pretty solidified." Unbeknownst to the blonde, his words make Ninya wince slightly.
"Two distractions for each of them, right?" Connor teases, making the forest ranger laugh shyly while his friends chuckle at his embarrassment. "Things change when you all have the same reason to fight, regardless of gender."
"Were you in a team, Sir Connor?" Ninya asks the desert ranger—an innocent enough question.
'Ha. Had it been Mugs, he'd be all emotional, I wager. He was always more attached to Ainz Ooal Gown than I was. Knew them better and for longer,' Connor thinks fondly of 'Mr. Rattle-me-bones, the undead lich who was most of the reason Ultron joined in the first place. 'I was perfectly content being a loner, ruling armies of my custom NPCs. They ended up convincing me to stay... Last nail in the coffin was 01,' Turning to the young human who was becoming more and more likely to be a girl, Connor ruffles their hair.
"Something like that, little brother," Connor says with fondness. "There were forty-two of us..."
"Forty-two!??" Nphirea gasps, making Connor chuckle.
"Yeah, they weren't around all at the same time, at least not all the time. Not unless something important happened or there was a major fuck up, haha!" Connor relates, weaving threads of truth into his lies. He remembers when Tigris Euphrates announced his girlfriend was pregnant and was hysterical, trying to figure out what to do. 'Touch Me said, "Marry her," as if it was the only possible thing that could have happened, haha!' Connor thinks, snickering at the memory. "By the time I joined," he continues, "the golden age they had built had become more gilded than they were probably ready to admit."
"What happened?" Ninya asks, uncertain if they want to know the answer.
Connor shrugs. "Well... life happened," he says. Nabe watches him intently; she knows her master is referring to the other Supreme Beings. "I got married, had kids, took on responsibilities outside of 'The Life,' you know?" Connor pauses momentarily. "They grew tired. Everyone did..." He nods slowly as he speaks. "Eventually, our numbers dwindled. From forty-two to thirty-nine to twenty-six... They just stopped showing up," he says somberly. "Finally, it was just me and one other—Momon was his name. A very skilled Magic Caster, he was the leader of our little group. That man and I maintained it until... well, he retired." Connor sighs. "Can you believe it? He left me in charge. I'm the last of the Rangers." Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulls out a flask, makes a small toast, and takes a swig. Though lying, the contents reflect his real feelings, woven into the very fabric of his words.
"Uuh... What are the Rangers?" Ninya asks, unknowingly giving Connor an out from his emotions. 'Seems I wasn't as callous to Ainz as I thought I was... Who knew I was so attached?' Now he can fully spin his tale—his favorite pastime. Telling stories.
"Protectors!" Connor exclaims at the question. "We were bringers of Justice and order to the Reach. We'd wander. Meander from one small township to another, hunting man or beast. Monsters all the same."
"Only forty-two of them protected an entire region by themselves?" Nphirea asks, astounded.
"Remember this, little brother: where I come from, towns usually have fewer than a hundred people. There's only so much food and water to go around in that wasteland," Connor explains. "Besides stopping for a bite to eat and a drink, only staying where you're needed is a solid survival strategy. We're lone wanderers—spirits of justice and vengeance, if the need arises." With that, Connor pulls out an obsidian marker necklace from under his armor.
"This was our symbol. If our big irons didn't give away that we meant business, then these sure as hell did," Connor says, making an analogy with the Swords of Darkness' symbol. "As long as you had this, everyone knew what you were there for. And as long as you wore this? You knew to return to the Arizona once a year; it's how we kept track of our numbers, see?"
"Wow..." They say, bewitched by the story.
"What is that? It looks like two horns twisted together," Lukrut comments on the trinket.
"This? It is the Symbol of Our Patron God. Ultron." Connor says, raising the marker before his face, watching the symbols etched into it turn a pale blue at the spoken word. The group looks on, amazed at the glowing trinket.
"Ultron? Never heard of that one..." Dyne says, scratching his chin.
"Yeah, I didn't think you would. Ultron is our God of all Forbidden Knowledge—past, present, and future," Connor says, letting the marker dangle from his neck while he draws Ivory, showcasing the firearm. "He taught us how to make these and how to survive out there. He gave us tools for finding water or dealing with evil. This marker," he says, referring to the necklace now floating off his chest and pointing in a specific direction, "does both."
"How?" Nphirea asks, curious.
"Just saying his name will make it glow either blue or red," Connor explains. The group turns to follow the necklace's direction, which now points to a body of water. "Blue means it's pointing toward water. Red means you're close to evil, whether that's monsters or people. Ultron doesn't like evil individuals, you see?"
"Sounds... amazing," Ninya says, looking at it all in wonder. Nabe feels similar reverence, though hers is for her master's ability to weave such convincing lies.
"Now, Ultron's tools to help us fend off the monsters at our doors and in our midst are the big irons," Connor says, holding up his silver Hunting Revolver. "The ammo is made with a special cartridge. And only a select few were ever allowed the tools and knowledge. And the weapons have an enchantment that only lets those worthy of using them wield them. Go ahead, try," Connor says, flipping the gun on his finger so the grip faces Ninya.
Tentatively, she takes the weapon in her petite hands. The first thing she notices is its weight as she carefully positions the gun. The engravings glow a subtle red as the hammer clicks down and locks, with the safety engaged and the trigger mechanism secured. "Wow…" she says, sensing the weapon's resistance, "That's amazing, Sir Connor." She hands it back, and as she does, the trigger unlocks and the hammer prepares for a potential discharge. Before it can fire accidentally, the Android places its thumb on the hammer, pulling the trigger gently to lower it back down. He then spins the cylinder to an empty chamber to ensure it won't fire if he needs to make a quick escape.
"Why, thanks, little man. Though sometimes weapons are made without enchantment, and evil is on the same playing field as us Rangers." Connor stands, spinning his pistol in his fingers before locking it in leather.
"Woah..." Peter says, enthralled.
"Now. As promised," Connor says, taking the guitar from his side as he sits on a log, "I'm gonna tell the story of the Big Iron; it's a story us youngins are taught about the Rangers and their skill. Even inspired me to become one myself."
Connor's fingers start to dance on the guitar, playing an upbeat tune. His body bounces along with the music until he opens his mouth and sings. His voice is rich and soulful as he begins his tale of a ranger with a big iron on his hip, facing down a dangerous outlaw. The melody carries through the night air as he weaves the story of courage, justice, and a fateful confrontation.
As Connor finishes his tale, the final notes hanging in the air, Nabe, ever dutiful, starts clapping. Ninya joins her, and soon the rest of the group applauds as well. "Thank you! Thank you very much!" Connor says, bowing before the group. After sitting down, Dyne speaks.
"That was an awe-inspiring tale; was it true? Or just a myth?"
"It may have been true, or it might just be a story, but myths don't emerge all at once. They don't appear fully formed in the world without reason. Instead, they develop gradually, shaped by the passing of time, until their edges are smoothed. The telling of the story gains enough significance—the weight of words and memories—allowing them to continue existing on their own. However, every story has a beginning." As Connor says thoughtfully, scooping up some sandy dirt and letting it fall into the wind, "Where Big Iron started... remains in history."
"Did I ever tell you how quotable you are, man?" Lukrut exclaims in awe, making Connor chuckle to himself.
"I think you might have, brother. If not, then thank you. I get all philo-fisophical when I get some alcohol in me," he says, gesturing to the flask in amusement.
"Mind if I use that 'When done righteously, it's a chore like any other...' line?? That was badass!"
Chuckling at Lukrut's poor attempt at mimicking his voice and accent, Connor nods, "Sure, why not, brother?"
Nphirea had long fallen silent as he watched Connor laughing and mingling with the others. He realized that the potion he and his grandmother had examined was likely a "gift" or blessing from Connor's god. If not, then the potions must be connected to his beliefs. The entire purpose of asking Connor to defend him on the trip—hoping to learn more about him—had ultimately failed. The secrets of the potions lay in the deep South, past Dolar, an area known for its dangerous and barren desert, which is plagued by devastating storms every thirty years. If Connor is from south of that region, there's no chance of obtaining any information about those potions.
Smacking his thigh as he stands, Connor says, "Whelp, need to bleed the snake. Be right back," getting Nphirea's attention as he goes. He strokes Nabe's face affectionately—her leaning into his hand and blushing ever so lightly—before going to find a place to handle his business. The camp falls into relative silence until they're sure the Ranger is out of earshot, then Lukrut turns to Nabe.
"How did you two meet?"
Nabe, still somewhat flustered by her master's display of affection, tries to come up with a lie that would align with the plans her Lord had masterfully orchestrated. What could she say that would satisfy these insects' curiosity while maintaining their cover? Not long after her bout of silence, she's relieved of having to speak by Peter.
"Don't be rude, Lukrut; you were doing so good!" He teases.
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"He means, don't ask such personal questions," Dyne adds.
"What?? I thought we were sharing?"
Ninya interjects, "Although I have to admit, I'm curious as to how they met, too."
"See! He gets me!" Lukrut exclaims, pointing to Ninya.
"Still..." Peter says, unsure.
"It's fine," Nabe finally speaks up, her enthusiasm growing as she discusses her favorite subject. "C-Connor is an amazing man—driven, brilliant, powerful... and very handsome. I was drawn to him when we first met. He's quite the charmer." Nabe hopes this will be enough to satisfy them, as any mention of her relationship with Ultron sends her mind into a whirlwind. Nphirea has started paying close attention to her, as their conversation about love is causing him to reflect on his own issues.
"What!" Lukrut exclaims, much to Nabe's confusion. "No way, that's it! That's way too vague! Knowing Connor, it was probably a harrowing adventure!"
Nabe racks her brain, trying to figure out what might have attracted her to "Connor." While his persona is charming, she struggles to pinpoint any specific qualities that would inspire a story. Suddenly, an idea comes to her: singing! "I hope I'm good at this," Nabe thinks to herself before speaking. "Well, it wasn't a harrowing experience; it was actually quite ordinary. It was a lodge in a valley, south toward the coast. When I arrived, Connor was surrounded by people, singing a song called 'Devil's Price,' if I remember correctly."
Nabe notices that as she speaks, all the humans are focused on her, encouraging her to continue. "He was walking around the lodge, moving across tables, entertaining the crowd until his gaze landed on me. I saw him... and he saw me. He started to single me out from the other women who were throwing themselves at him. We talked, and we formed a connection..."
"Aww, that sounds so romantic," Ninya says, their team members agreeing.
"So his music attracted you?" Nphirea asks sheepishly.
"...Not entirely. It caught my attention, but it was his features that truly intrigued me. His personality and the way he carried himself made me want to stay happily by his side. His strength made me feel safe, and his touch warmed me when it was cold." Nabe says, her blush deepening with every word. However, as she speaks, it's evident that Nphirea's spirit is sinking deeper into anguish.
"Is there something the matter?" Peter asks the young man, the attention turning from Nabe to their employer. Nphirea seems sheepish and nervous before speaking.
"Well... in Carne village, there's someone I don't want to fall in love with—Sir. It's Connor... or something," he confesses, embarrassed as he fidgets anxiously with his hands. He glances at Nabe, hoping not to upset her, but she appears more amused than anything else, despite her regained monotone expression.
Lukrut leans in to speak, "Alright, let big brother here teach you a little something, somthi-" but is interrupted by a bowl to the head.
"Cut it out! Don't corrupt him!" Peter says authoritatively.
"Why the FACE, man! That was mean!" Lukrut cries in pain, rubbing his sore head.
"What kind of person is she?" Ninya asks as the Swords of Darkness surround him in a supportive man-huddle.
"If you're persistent, your feelings will surely reach her!" Dyne says encouragingly.
"You got this! We'll support you if you like!" Peter adds.
"Yeah, man!" "Come on! C'mon!" they say in relative unison. Nphirea chuckles in embarrassment before the sounds of spurs spinning catch their attention.
"Whatwetalkinabout?" Connor says, crouched down in the huddle, startling Nphirea.
"Bolear here has a giii-" Lukrut starts to fill him in before having his mouth covered by Nphirea.
"Nothing! Nothing!" he says nervously, smiling at the Ranger, who quirks an eyebrow at him and the others, who remain silent, wanting to preserve Nphirea's privacy. Connor stands up.
"Huh. Boring... Ok, sweetness! I think it's time for bed; I'm getting all droopy-eyed!" He says, walking over to his and Nabe's tent. The others decide to do the same.
The moon hangs high, full in the starlight sky. The dark blue, cool light from above claims the camp as the fire is extinguished...