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The Longest is the Strongest: One Swing - Hero of the Greatest Greatsword's 164ft Blade Rends All Within Its 50m Cleave!
22 – Sometimes It’s Important to Hold On to the Friends You Don’t Get Along With

22 – Sometimes It’s Important to Hold On to the Friends You Don’t Get Along With

With One Swing leading the way down the busy streets—his one-hundred-and-sixty-four foot sword slung across his shoulder, trailing fifty meters into the afternoon sky—Arrow Grain had decided to tag along with him in search of the man One Swing was looking to recruit.

“That guy’s only a D-Rank, you know?” Arrow commented, walking alongside the swordsman. “Are you sure you want to bring him along?”

One Swing nodded. “He is a man that has my respect. I would like to bring him along on our quest. You see, when I was a young boy—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” the elf complained. “If you tell me another dumb story about how your respect for somebody is based on some stupid length-related nonsense, I’m going to get really pissed off!”

“— would often watch the stray homeless that roamed the streets, and I always lamented the fact that my own hair did not grow from my face as theirs did. Even as an adult, I find I am still not able. The fact that Grapple Krumble is able to grow such a lengthy moustache that is a feat worthy of respect.”

“I knew it! I knew it was stupid! And I knew it would piss me off!”

The man they were currently searching for was Grapple Krumble, the veteran adventurer and host of the Krumbledome. One Swing hadn’t seen or heard from the man since the Krumbledome collapsed due to One Swing’s creative interpretation of the tournament’s rules.

“And his moustache isn’t even that long!” the woman continued to complain. “Yes, it’s probably thicker than most, but it seems relatively reasonable when compared to your usual standards! It’s only slightly distracting!”

Continuing down the streets, the two soon found themselves on the border of the market district, wandering past the busy-looking warehouses. Appearing from the busy buildings, ragged and exhausted people would stumble in and out, transporting heavy loads from one place to another. Evident from the metal collars around their necks, most of the workers here were slaves. Occasionally, one of the slaves would collapse from exhaustion, only to be whipped back to their feet by one of their nearby supervisors.

“I hate this place.” Arrow scowled. “I wish the Queen would do something about it…”

One Swing did not reply. Slavery was a system that One Swing felt very conflicted about. On one hand, the forcible enslavement of others against their will was an inherently vile thing that One Swing did not approve of. But on the other hand, without slavery, One Swing felt that the whips that most slavers chose to use would become obsolete. And One Swing liked whips. He felt that their length made for a very respectable weapon and tool. Therefore, slavery was obviously just a necessary evil that needed to exist in the world so that whips would continue to prosper.

“Why would Mr. Krumble be around here anyway?” the elf continued. “And how did you know he was here? I haven’t heard from him since the Krumbledome collapsed.”

One Swing returned her question with a tilt of his head. “I have no idea where he is either. I thought I’d just go out into the city and search for him.”

“Why?!” Arrow complained. “This city is huge! How can you expect to find one man in such a big city without any leads?! What if he isn’t even in the city anymore?! You’re going to be searching for a hell of a long time at this rate!”

One Swing smirked. “A very long time. Yes.”

“That’s it! I’m not hanging out with you anymore! I’m sick of you, and I’m sick of your stupid gimmick that doesn’t make any—!” In the middle of her complaint, Arrow cut herself off as her eyes drifted over One Swing’s shoulder and across to one of the busy warehouses nearby

Following her gaze, One Swing found his own attention captured by one of the workers. It was a large, clean-shaven man with dirty blonde hair that hung down to his shoulders. He was also very muscular, evident by the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt for some reason. From the metal collar around his neck though, it was clear that the man was a slave.

For some odd reason, One Swing thought the man looked familiar, although he couldn't tell why… It was a comment from Arrow Grain that made him realize what that reason was.

“Mr. Krumble?! Is that you?” Calling out to him, Arrow quickly made her way towards the man, a heavy-looking crate held in his arms.

Seeing her approach, the man placed the heavy load on the ground and returned her confused greeting with a forced smile. "Hey, sis— Ah, hello Miss Ryghe Rain. It's good to see you again."

It was Grapple Krumble. The man they were looking for. Almost unrecognizable now, One Swing could not believe the sight of the man as he too made his way over to join him and the elf by the warehouse.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What happened to you?!” Arrow exclaimed, looking over the condition of the man.

“Yes!” One Swing nodded, an expression of deep concern on his face. “What happened to your facial hair?! Where did it go?!”

Although it was undoubtedly the veteran adventurer, Grapple Krumble, the man in front of them was completely clean-shaven. The length of his mighty moustache was no longer.

“That’s not what I meant!” Arrow gave the swordsman a kick to the calf before turning back to the ragged man in front of them. “Why are you here?! How did you end up as a slave, Mr. Krumble?!”

The moustache-less man gave a halfhearted chuckle. “I’m not ‘Mr. Krumble’ anymore, sis— Miss Rain. After the Krumbledome collapsed, I lost my name, my status, and the shirt off my back. I’m just regular old Grapple now.”

“N-no, I’m pretty sure you never wore a shirt in the first place…” the elf retorted, looking kind of annoyed.

“And the moustache!” One Swing yelled, a look of shocked despair still on his face. “Tell me who did this to you! Tell me who took your moustache away!”

“Enough about the moustache!” Arrow snapped. “How did you lose everything and become a slave?! That seems really excessive! The people won’t stand for this! The crowds loved you in the Krumbledome! They won’t stand for a replacement when the stadium is rebuilt in a few weeks!”

Grapple blinked back at the woman in puzzlement. “… It’s being rebuilt?”

“Yes! Even bigger and stronger than it was before! And when it finally is, the people are going to want you to host it once again!” Turning to a nearby man supervising the workers at the warehouse, Arrow gave the whip-wielding slaver a harsh glare. “Release this man right now! Mr. Krumble hasn’t done anything to deserve this! You must have enslaved him through underhanded means!”

In response, the slaver gave her an annoyed frown. “Look, lady, I have no idea who that guy is. He just came in one day and started hauling boxes around. If you know him, can you take him with you? Because he’s not even hauling them to the right place. He’s just moving them around at random and it’s making more work for us.”

This time it was Arrow’s turn to blink back at Grapple in puzzlement. “… Huh?”

“Ah, I didn’t know it was being rebuilt,” Grapple said, removing the collar from his neck and tossing it away. “Guess I'll just head home then. It was good seeing you again, sister. You too, brother. How about we meet up at the Adventurers Guild tomorrow and find ourselves a decent quest? Haha—!"

“Screw you! Why are adventurers like this?! What’s wrong with all of you?! Give me back the concern I had for you! If you ever are enslaved for real, don’t expect any help from me! Because you won’t get any!”

As the elf rallied off her complaints, One Swing too was voicing his distress. “And the moustache?! What happened to the moustache?!”

Grapple gave a hearty chuckle. “Oh, don’t worry about that, brother! It’ll grow back in full force by the next morning! See, it’s actually a Curse. I was born with that moustache, and no matter how much I cut it, it’ll always grow back to full length by the next day. I’ve never told this secret to anybody before. Not even my family knows about my Curse.”

“Your family definitely knew!” Arrow complained. “There’s no way they didn’t question why their newborn baby came into the world with a full-grown moustache!”

“It’s the same reason I never wear a shirt,” Grapple continued. “That’s another one of my Curses. See, I was actually born without a shirt. No matter how much I tried to wear one, they would never fit me.”

“That’s obviously not a Curse! Just find one in a larger size, dumbass!”

One Swing gave a sigh of relief. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that you will be back to your usual length by tomorrow.”

“Be relieved that your friend isn’t actually a slave instead!”

Ignoring the elf’s ongoing complaints, One Swing continued. “I’m departing on a quest tomorrow to slay Cayenne of the Wrathful Flame and Harbinger of Hellfire and Destruction. Would you like to join me?”

Grapple shot back a large grin. “Haha! I don’t know what that is but it sounds like it’ll be an adventure! Sure thing, brother! Fill me in on the details later!”

One Swing smirked.

“With Grapple Krumble now joining the team, that makes it a party of five. I was hoping for lengthier numbers, but I suppose that will have to do.”

“Five?” Arrow tilted her head to the side. “You, Mr. Krumble, Barxy, and the guy who likes to lick his own eyeball. Who’s the fifth?”

One Swing returned her question with a tilt of his own head. “Arrow Grain, the D-Rank adventurer, of course.”

“… Huh?”

“As a woman who has my respect, it is only natural that I want you to join me on this quest."

Arrow narrowed her eyes at him. “Why am I a woman who has your respect?" she asked, suspicion in her tone. "And if you say something stupid, know that I'm going to be really mad."

One Swing smirked. “Your prowess with a bow reaches the lengths far above your assigned rank. And despite your short temper, your focus and levelheadedness on the battlefield is already akin to that of a seasoned veteran."

“I—I see…” The purple-haired elf scratched bashfully at her cheek, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, I guess if that’s what you think, then I don’t mind joining you—”

“But most importantly, you have very long ears. As a young boy, I would often watch the stray elves that roamed the streets, and I always lamented the fact that my own ears did not stretch as far as—”

The exasperated scream of a small elven woman cried out into the air, echoing across the district of busy warehouses and disappearing up into the late afternoon sky.