“W-what is that?”

“Hm?" One Swing looked up in the direction of the startled man's focus. "Oh. This is my sword. Seven-Slaying Star Judgment of Heaven-Piercing Violet—”

“Wait, that thing by the gate was your sword?! What the hell…?”

After meeting the shirtless Grapple Krumble at the Adventurers Guild, One Swing made his way to the designated meeting point by the ruins of the west gate. The one he was arrested for destroying and now had to pay to fix. Although still quite early in the morning, many labourers were already there, seemingly in the middle of filling in the holes he had created and rebuilding the foundations of the new wall.

Since there was still some time before they were arranged to meet, One Swing decided to practice his swings as he waited. He was promptly yelled at by the men and women working the wall and instead was forced to sit in still silence until Grapple and the others showed up.

After One Swing, the next one to arrive was a lizardman. The scaly skin that ran from his lizard-like snout to the tip of his reptilian tail was a dark shade of blue. His fingers were tipped with sharp claws and his forked tongue would occasionally shoot up from his scaly lips, licking up at one of his yellow-slitted eyeballs.

Gawking up in disbelief at the towering height of One Swing’s sword, the man was immediately a slurry of questions.

“But how the hell do you lift it?”

“Ah, it’s simple. It’s similar to the axe holstered at your back.”

“… In what way?”

“Well, they both have a handle, see? And if you grip the handle with both hands—like this—you can easily lift it and move it around. The blade is sharp though, so you shouldn’t lift it from that end.”

“No, I know how a sword works! What I want to know is, how the hell do you—?”

The gawking lizardman’s questions were soon interrupted by the arrival of more adventurers.

“Oh! Glad you made it, brother!” The shirtless, hulking Grapple approached, giving One Swing a friendly slap on the shoulder. “I see you’ve already met one of our front-line fighters, Unagi Eye-Licker! A B-Ranker too. I’ve seen him in the Krumbledome once or twice. He’s pretty good with that axe of his!”

Approaching from behind the moustached man, the voice of a woman chimed in with a surprised retort.

“Wait, his adventurer name is Eye-Licker?!” she exclaimed loudly. “Why?! Why does he keep doing that?! I thought that was just a lizardman thing so I wasn’t going to say anything because I thought it would be racially insensitive, but he was just a weirdo all along!”

“Bad habit,” said Eye-Licker, licking up at his eyeball again.

The approaching woman was an elf. She was small, and her short purple hair only came down to her ears, but One Swing liked elves. They were a race of very long-lived people with very beautifully long-lengthed ears. And judging by the bow holstered at the woman’s back, this woman was an archer. A very respectable combat role for one who excels in long-ranged combat.

The woman gave One Swing a short wave.

“Oh, you must be the loony that— Ah. I mean, you must be the One Swing guy Mr. Krumble was talking about,” she said, making awkward glances between One Swing’s sword and the piles of rubble that once used to be the western wall. “I’m Ryghe Rain. Nice to meet—”

A theatrically loud cough from Grapple suddenly cut her off, and he shot her an expectant glance.

“Oh, right,” she said. “Sorry. As an E-Rank, I’m still a bit new to this. You can call me Arrow Grain. I forgot these made-up names were important to adventurers and all…”

One Swing nodded. Adventurer names were important. As many adventurers come from backgrounds they've left behind or pasts they don't want dug up again, adventuring names have become an important part of the job. For some—like One Swing—that new name practically replaces the previous one entirely. One Swing had thrown away his old name the day he became an adventurer and left the Capital.

As more and more of the adventurers arrived at the meeting place, it seemed like they were finally ready to depart. There were ten of them in total, including One Swing. A good number, One Swing thought. Due to the nature of his combat style, One Swing was used to travelling alone. But, numbers were good. One Swing liked numbers. Because, as they say, there is length in numbers, after all.

“It’s nice to meet you,” One Swing bowed towards the group, his excessively long blade trailing high up into the clouds. “My name is One Swing, the F-Rank adventurer. One day I aspire to reach the lengths of S-Rank and become the longest in all the—”

“Shut it, F-Rank.”

One Swing was suddenly interrupted by a man. Another one of the adventurers. From the hooded cape obscuring most of his face in darkness, One Swing could only assume he was human like himself. But holstered at his hip and across the many belts that ran across his body were a countless number of knives. ‘Daggers’, I’m sure some of them could be called. But to One Swing, a knife was still a knife. Short. And not all fit to be used as a weapon.

The hooded man pushed past One Swing, bumping into his arm as he made his way through. However, due to the sturdiness of One Swing's body and the weight from the sword slung across his other shoulder, One Swing did not budge.

“Tch.” This seemed to only irritate the man, as he clicked his tongue and continued onward. “Hurry up, weaklings. Let’s clean out these little green losers so I can get paid, catch the first carriage out of this dump, and never step foot in this middle-of-nowhere shithole ever again.”

With a short murmur of agreement, the other adventurers followed after him, moving around the deep gashes carved into the dirt floor and through the mess of toppled trees, into the forest beyond.

“Ah, don’t worry about that guy, brother,” Grapple said, giving One Swing a passing slap on the shoulder, gesturing him onward. “Shashlik of a Thousand Nettles, they call him. Another one that got called down from the Capital as well. He might be a little uptight, but that guy’s the real deal. He’s a veteran like me, and a true A-Rank as well. I've seen him fight a couple times and the man's a monster. He might give you a hard time but, at least you probably won’t have to worry about dying out there, eh?”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“I see…” One Swing followed behind the group, heading into the forest as he pondered silently to himself.

‘Shashlik of a Thousand Nettles’ was a fairly impressive name. It had a decent amount of length to it. But One Swing couldn’t agree with the choice of weapons the man chose to use. It was surprising that such short-lengthed blades had carried him all the way to A-Rank in the first place, One Swing thought.

“Ouch—! Dammit, what’s with all these branches and stuff raining down on us?!”

“It’s that damn F-Rank with the stupid sword! Tell that dumbass to walk at the back!”

"Why’s it so big anyways? How’s he even carry that thing?”

"It's not real, you dope. Most of it ain't anyway. It's one of them optical illusions or whatever. Some stupid gimmick from an F-Rank trying to make a quick name for himself. He just digs a load of traps and stuff beforehand and then pretends to swing it. It’s all fake.”

It seems One Swing's presence among the group wasn't the most welcome one. It was understandable though. Some of these adventurers were probably the ones who got caught in the fissures of One Swing's attack the other day.

As One Swing took his place at the back of the group, he angled his sword a little further back so that the trail of clipped tree tops his sword was leaving in its wake didn't further impede their journey through the forest from all the falling debris.

As the forest became denser, it also started to move uphill, making the journey twice as difficult as before. It wasn't an issue for One Swing, however. He was used to taking long treks through often difficult terrain. It seemed that, wherever he went, no carriages would accept him for some reason, so One Swing grew accustomed to walking instead.

“How much farther is it to go?” One Swing inquired.

It had been hours since they left, and morning had quickly shifted from afternoon to evening, as the sun in the sky threatened to dip below the mountains beyond. They had expected to spend at least one night on the trek—two at most—so One Swing had prepared accordingly, packing enough supplies into the knapsack slung across his back.

"The reports said it should only be a few more hours ahead," a member of the group answered, before raising her dog-like snout and giving the air a sniff. She was a wolfman. But unlike the lady at the Guild, this woman was entirely covered in shaggy, gray fur, fit with a short, bushy tail that stuck through the back of her red leather armour and bobbed gently behind her with each little movement. "Smells like it too. There's a truly awful stench coming up from there. Definitely monsters.”

“Do you think we should take a break, maybe?” Arrow Grain chimed in, also near the rear of the group alongside One Swing. “O-only if you guys think we should? Wolfmen might have great vision in the dark, but us elves… Not so much. What do you think, Mr. Krumble?”

“Humans… neither…” Grapple agreed, panting loudly through laboured breaths. “Good idea… sister. We should… definitely make a… stop before nightfall.”

“Eh? Mr. Krumble?! A-are you okay?! Why is the so-called veteran adventurer the only one who’s out of breath here?!”

“Tch. Fine.” From upfront, Shashlik clicked his tongue and came to a stop. “I was hoping to mop up these losers and be back before nightfall, but it looks like that plan’s a bust. I don’t know why they’re making me baby a bunch of weaklings when I could’ve easily cleaned this all up on my own. Hell, I would’ve cleaned this up hours ago and been on a carriage back to Gran Torte right now if it wasn’t for you pathetic E’s and F’s dragging me back.”

“Hey now, brother!” Grapple stepped in. “Let’s not lay the blame on One Swing and Arrow like that. As fellow adventurers, we’re all—”

“Shut it, old man,” Shashlik interrupted, forcing Grapple to hold his tongue. “We’re making camp here. We continue at sunrise.”

There’s a murmured drone of agreement from the group of adventurers and, hacking away a small clearing, a camp was quickly set up across the flattened foliage, amongst the encircling sea of trees.

Just as quickly as afternoon turned to evening, evening soon turned to night, and One Swing found himself sitting on a felled tree, looking out into the darkness of the forest with the warm light of the fire at his back. He had been given the first watch and was tasked with waking the others if any wandering monsters approached the camp.

“So…” Rocking back and forth on the log next to him, Arrow Grain, the short purple-haired elf spoke up at One Swing’s side. She had also been given watch duty. “Can I ask about the sword?”

One Swing glanced up at the sword resting at his side, the flames from the camp’s fire casting a gentle orange glow flickering up the violet metal before softly dulling into blackness as the blade continued up above the treetops, out of reach of the light, and into the darkness beyond.

“Ah, like I told Eye-Licker, you want to grab it by the handle, because if you grab it by the sharp part, it might hurt your hands and—”

“I know how a sword works!” she complained. “What I mean is, why is it so… long?”

“Ah, because…” One Swing smirked. “The longest is the strongest.”

“… What?”

“The longest is the strongest.” One Swing smirked. Again. “And a sword like this is necessary for me to one day become an S-Rank adventurer and the longest in the world.”

“What does that—?! Stop smirking like you just said something really cool or profound! What does becoming the longest even mean?! Is that some weird human expression I’ve never heard before?! What does becoming the longest entail exactly?!”

“Well…” One Swing pondered to himself in thought for a moment, before speaking up again. “If you were really hungry, and you had to choose between eating a baguette, or two baguettes stacked on top of each other, which one would you choose?”

“Wha—? Uh… Two, I guess? If I was really hungry. Sure.”

“It’s like that.”

“Why?!” Arrow complained, standing up from the log and shouting down at him in annoyance. “Why is it like that?! And why a baguette?! I don’t understand this analogy at all!”

“Well, if you wanted to kill something really badly,” One Swing responded. “Would you rather use one sword, or two swords stacked on top of each other? It’s like that.”

“I mean, okay! I understand the logic behind it, but the length of that sword is still too ridiculous! And I still don’t understand how a living person is supposed to become ‘the longest’ or what that even means!” Taking a seat back on the log once again, she took a moment to calm both herself and the volume of her voice back down again. “So, why did you want to become ‘the longest’ anyway…?”

A gruff voice from someone behind the two answered back, poking his dirty-blonde moustache through between them. "Now, sister. Not poking into another adventurer's past is one of the biggest untold rules about adventuring. I already told you this. As a veteran, it’s something I tell all the rookies I party up with.”

“Then it’s not ‘untold’ if you keep telling people, is it!?” Arrow complained, before turning to face the two. “Ah.., Sorry, One Swing, for being so nosy. And sorry, Mr. Krumble. You’re right. Sorry for waking you too.”

“That's alright, sister!” Grapple said, squeezing his huge, muscular body in between them and taking a seat on the log as well. “You didn’t wake me! It’s impossible for me to get to sleep anywhere other than my bed at home!”

“How?! How are you a veteran adventurer?! That seems like a really detrimental trait for a veteran adventurer to have!”

“Ah, anyway,” Grapple continued. “Like I said, you shouldn’t dig into another adventurer’s past. As a pretty influential man back in Gran Torte, I’ve met a lot of people. A lot of nobles too. And I can tell that One Swing here used to be one. I’m pretty sure I can guess which family he came from too. Most likely the Bags family, I’d say. Real corrupt bunch that lot. No wonder you wanted to ditch the name and become an adventurer after being the only surviving member of that house.”

“Mr. Krumble?! What happened to not digging into other people’s past?! Why is Mr. Veteran Adventurer the biggest blabbermouth here?! What happened to all the ‘untold rules’ you keep telling people?!”

“Ah, that’s okay.” One Swing waved off the woman’s complaints and shot the two of them another smirk. “I’ll tell you my story. The story of why I wanted to become the longest.”