Arifureta Zero: Volume 1 Read online

  Prologue

  A figure lazed in the center of a pure white room.

  One could tell from a glance that there was something odd about them. For one thing, they were wearing a bizarre mask with a smiley-face drawn on its cover. For another, the arms and legs poking out of their milky-white robe, while artfully crafted, were clearly made out of metal.

  It was a golem that was lying there in the center of the room.

  “Ugh, I finally managed to finish my repairs. Damn that little boy. How dare he leave some explosives there at the end!” The voice that spoke sounded youthful and feminine. Its owner, the golem lying in the center of the room, was Miledi Reisen. She was the creator of the Reisen Gorge, one of the Seven Great Labyrinths, and a Liberator.

  She stared up at the sky and screamed.

  “The next time I see him, I’ll teach that brat a lesson!” She looked like a child throwing a tantrum, thrashing about on the floor.

  Her robe flapped wildly around her, and her mask’s expression morphed.

  Upon closer inspection, one could see that her robe was charred at the edges and covered in soot. There was a small crack in her mask as well.

  Hajime was the cause of her current distress, and the reason she was in such a sorry state. He was the first to have cleared the labyrinth she’d created. And the first thing he’d done after defeating her was to demand she give him all of her possessions.

  She’d planned on giving him everything but the items she absolutely needed to maintain the labyrinth, but he’d insisted on taking even those.

  He was no conqueror, just a thief. No good person would ever demand that a labyrinth master hand over all her possessions. That was the act of a common brigand.

  Naturally, Miledi had refused. Half in jest, she’d tested out her toilet shortcut and flushed them out of her labyrinth. However, just before they’d been washed away, the boy had thrown some grenades her way as a final parting gift.

  His grenades had blown up not just the deepest chamber in the labyrinth, but a good portion of her private resting quarters as well. In tears, Miledi had set about the task of repairing her precious labyrinth. She’d only just finished.

  She cursed at Hajime for a while longer, complaining about the unfair retribution she’d received for the harmless prank she’d played on him. Objectively speaking, it was pretty hard to feel sympathetic toward someone who’d flushed people out of her home.

  Once she was done, complete silence returned to the room.

  Miledi was this labyrinth’s only resident. It sat deep underground, at the bottom of a gorge everyone avoided. A dark place where the light of the sun never reached.

  Without Miledi’s cursing, there was no noise at all. As she was a golem, there wasn’t even the sound of her breathing or heartbeat.

  After a few moments of silence, Miledi raised her hand up to the ceiling.

  Had there been any light, her metallic hand would have gleamed brightly. This golem was something someone very precious to her had made. The crystallization of all their hard work. This inorganic hand of hers was very unlike the actual hand she’d had back when she was alive.

  “To think... someone who could clear our trials really appeared...” She balled her outstretched hand into a fist. The reality of it was finally hitting her. Then, she glanced over at a corner.

  The room she was in now was her bedroom. Meaning her personal possessions were all stored there.

  There was a bookshelf in the corner she’d looked at, a number of picture frames lining the shelves. Long ago, an exceptionally skilled Synergist had invented a device that could perfectly record all the details in a scene and copy them. The pictures he’d taken with it had been his gift to Miledi, and her greatest treasure.

  Miledi walked up to the pictures and examined each one in turn, starting from the end. She’d done the same thing hundreds, no, thousands of times, but a different emotion welled up within her this time around.

  “How long has it been since that day... The day that we were defeated. The day we swore to carry on, to create a light of hope for those who would come after. It’s... definitely been more than a few centuries at least. A thousand years? Two thousand? Ahaha, I don’t even remember anymore...”

  Most of the pictures were of a young girl. There was one of her standing in the middle of a city, another of her surrounded by nature, and yet another with her in the rugged wilderness. In all of them she was smiling, the people in the background all smiling alongside her.

  The person who’d taken these photos had known how to capture her radiance better than anyone.

  Miledi’s gaze stopped at one of the pictures. It was a picture of seven people standing atop a hill, the sunrise at their backs.

  One of them was a blonde girl. She was pulling a bespectacled, flustered man closer to her. Next to her stood a stoic, but gentle-looking man, a seductively smiling dryad woman, a stern, balding old man, a Dagon woman who was smiling triumphantly, and lastly, a demon man who was staring at the blonde girl with a look of mild disapproval.

  “Guys... it’s finally happening. Time’s moving forward again. It’s not a dream. The path we chose... it really did pave the way for those who came after us.”

  Had Miledi retained her human form, she would have been crying. Her voice trembled and broke.

  Her fingers lightly brushed against the image of the bespectacled boy.

  “O-kun. Can you believe it? Those kids cleared your labyrinth first. It was supposed to be the hardest one, the one everyone was supposed to do last. And you know what else? Their leader is a Synergist, just like you. What an amazing coincidence.” Miledi chuckled.

  “His personality’s the complete opposite of yours, though. Still, he’s amazing. Those artifacts of his are crazy. He must have made them using the techniques you left behind.” She continued talking until she ran out of words. Overcome with emotion, she brought a hand to her chest.

  Finally, she turned her gaze to the final picture. This one was special. It had been created by combining Oscar’s wondrous invention with the regeneration powers another one of her comrades had held. Together, they had created a picture of the past. It depicted a smiling young woman with red hair. She was wearing a maid uniform, and standing next to her was the same blonde girl that was in the other pictures, except she looked younger. There was a look of confusion on her face.

  “It all started with you. The journey I inherited from you is finally coming to a close.”

  Miledi didn’t have much strength left. She probably had enough power stored for one last fight at full strength, but that was more than enough. She’d been prepared for this for millennia.

  Miledi looked back up at the ceiling. She was thinking of the young boy who’d conquered her labyrinth. Finally.

  Quietly, she prayed.

  “May the people finally be free...” It was a lone, silent wish.

  Chapter I: The Meeting That Started It All

  The Kingdom of Velka — Capital Velnika.

  Velka sat in the southwestern portion of the Northern Continent. A vast network of tunnels ran directly beneath its capital city.

  The tunnels were filled with abundant amounts of green glowstone, which had earned them the name “The Greenway.”

  Monsters and cutthroats prowled their depths, so it was by no means a safe way to travel. However, because of the rare ore that could be mined there, the tunnels were still popular.

  Velka itself could trace its origins back to The Greenway. The kingdom had started out as a mining town that had sprouted up to harvest its ore. Merchants and craftsmen had then flocked to the town, which eventually grew into a flourishing city. That flourishing city then grew into a small country, until it event
ually became the mighty kingdom it was now.

  The country manufactured all of its own weapons, its tools, and even magical artifacts. Velka was known to the rest of the world as the kingdom of inventors and craftsmen. They were more than a little jealous of its wealth of natural resources and talented citizens.

  The engineers and craftsmen of the kingdom were always competing with each other, and there were a few exceptionally talented guilds whose names had become famous.

  One of those was the Orcus Workshop. It allowed only the most talented Synergists to join. Its fame was so great that even nobles considered it an honor to be accepted for an apprenticeship there. Their primary focus was on weaponsmithing. And thanks to the current political climate, they were in rather high demand.

  The Orcus Workshop’s headquarters dwarfed the surrounding buildings. Today too, the workshop was filled with the sounds of Synergists chanting and master craftsmen chastising their apprentices.

  Like with all Orcus Workshop buildings, the headquarters was partitioned into sections, with each section housing a different specialty. One could usually guess what each section’s specialty was by looking at the tools and materials used.

  Most craftsmen were surrounded by weapons, armor, and the materials needed to make them. Others were buried in piles of everyday goods.

  As the Orcus Workshop’s main business was weapons, it made sense for most sections to be dedicated to that. One’s standing in the workshop was determined by the quality of goods they could produce.

  However, there was one craftsman who was surrounded by something else. His section was radically different from the rest of the workshop.

  The young man working that station had gentle, feminine features and a long, slender build.

  He wore black-rimmed spectacles and had his shoulder-length black hair tied up in a ponytail.

  He wore an apron over his simple blue shirt and off-white trousers. Gadgets of dubious function stuck out of the numerous pockets his apron had.

  His intelligent eyes were staring earnestly at a magic circle and the materials contained within it. Then, he clapped his hands together and the magic circle in front of him began to glow. His mana was a warm, yellowish-white. It was reminiscent of sunlight, the kind one might see on a warm spring day.

  His materials coalesced within the circle. The young man’s creation had a perfect curve, impeccable balance, and a well-crafted handle that showed his consideration for its wielder.

  He stared sharply at what he’d made, seemingly satisfied.

  “Perfect. That’s a great pot.” He seemed proud of his work. Tenderly, he picked up the dull gray pot.

  He then carefully placed it inside a box. Said box was already full of pots, frying pans, plates, and other cooking utensils.

  Scattered around him were other mundane goods. Lanterns, fancy desks, building tools, scissors, stationery, and other everyday goods littered his workplace.

  There was not a single weapon in sight, despite this being a workshop specializing in weapons.

  There were technically some sharp implements, but none of them could be considered weapons.

  They were all cooking knives. Knives for chopping vegetables, knives for cutting meat, even knives for cutting bread. And they were all of exceptional quality.

  However, they were all still cooking utensils. While all the other craftsmen were trying their hardest to create exemplary weapons, this young man was just making mundane items. Naturally, this made him stand out. Not in a good way, either.

  Everyone hated him, especially because the Orcus Workshop treated him favorably despite his obvious shortcomings.

  “Tch...”

  “Hmph.”

  People scoffed.

  The young man turned around to see two elderly masters staring down at his work. They wore disapproving glares.

  He smiled awkwardly in response and returned to his own work, trying to ignore them.

  While the craftsmen all hated him, most of them didn’t do much to get in his way. After all, they were too busy focusing on their own work.

  But in every group, there was always a small minority that refused to conform. The same was true here. While most people were content to leave the young man alone, some felt compelled to make his life miserable.

  The young man scattered wood chips around the pots, cushioning his creations. It was then that someone walked up, looking for trouble.

  “Hey, loser. How long are you going to keep making junk like this? What happened to the stuff I asked you to make?” This new voice was derisive and unpleasant.

  The newcomer was short and fat, and he was surrounded by two lackeys. One was tall and lanky, while the other had eyes that looked like they were bulging out of their sockets. All three of them were smiling wickedly.

  “Hello there, Waress-san. I’ve already finished what you asked for.”

  Ping Waress was the third son of the noble Waress family. The young man turned to the duke and bowed his head respectfully, despite Waress’ condescending attitude.

  The “stuff Waress had asked him to make” had actually been Ping’s work quota for today. He’d just been too lazy to do it himself. The young man picked up a nearby box and held it out.

  “What, already? Hey, you better not have half-assed this! Earl Holden requested me specifically for this job. I asked you to help to give you a chance to polish your skills, so you better not be repaying my good will by spitting in my face!”

  The earl hadn’t actually made any such personal request. He’d brought some armor to be repaired, but he’d asked the workshop as a whole, not any individual craftsman.

  In fact, most of the repairs had been handed off to more senior craftsmen. Ping had only been in charge of fixing the straps.

  In other words, he’d just happened to have been assigned that task.

  The young man knew that as well, but he disliked conflict, so instead of arguing, he just furrowed his brows. He’d had a lot of practice placating people.

  Before he could even say “Take a look for yourself,” one of Ping’s lackeys spoke up.

  “Come on, Ping-san. Don’t you think loser is a bit much, even for him? The least you could do is call him a former prodigy.”

  Torpa Parson, the man who’d spoken, was the second son of Baron Parson.

  The bug-eyed man was Raul Streya, fourth son of Baron Streya. He backed up Torpa, gesticulating like a buffoon.

  “Now now, Torpa-kun. We should drop the ‘former’ bit, too. After all, he is an orphan the Master scouted out personally. Sure, he can’t make a weapon to save his life and spends all his time crafting junk, but he’s still a genius. After all, he gets paid for all that junk he makes! We should applaud him. Come on, don’t you think you should show us those skills that impressed the master so much? Don’t tell me age made you rusty, you’re still young. You’ve still got it, right Oscar-kun?”

  Nearby onlookers sniggered at that.

  The other craftsmen didn’t have any personal issue with Oscar like Ping did, but they too were annoyed that an orphan would be given special treatment. Especially as they’d never seen the genius he had supposedly been taken in for.

  People continued needling Oscar, but he just smiled and bowed his head. He quietly held out the box that had the clasp Ping had asked for.

  “Why won’t you say anything, huh?” Ping opened the box and frowned. Despite the fact that Oscar had done as he’d asked, he seemed displeased.

  “It’s as you say. I’m still an inexperienced craftsman, taking advantage of the master’s generosity.”

  “If you know that, then you should just get the hell out of here. You’re a disgrace to the Orcus name! The fact that you bear it is an insult!”

  Even an apology wasn’t enough to pacify Ping. In fact, it only seemed to make him more irate. His angry screams turned him into the center of attention instead of Oscar.

  Not only was Ping short and fat, he was petty. He was the kind of person to insult other
s behind their backs and bully anyone weaker than him.

  Still, he rarely lost his temper, at least not enough to shout.

  Looks like the worm’s even angrier than usual today... Did he mess up something else earlier or something? Still smiling outwardly, Oscar desperately thought of a way to calm Ping down. However, before he could, Ping continued.

  “Seriously, I can’t believe the master called you a genius. I guess he can make mistakes sometimes too.”

  Ping was so worked up that he didn’t notice insulting the Master had made everyone’s attitudes shift. The other craftsmen’s scorn was now directed at Ping, not Oscar. Even his two cronies were grimacing as they whispered to each other.

  Oscar knew he had to defuse the situation before the craftsmen lynched Ping. The current head of the Orcus Workshop was well-respected by everyone, and they wouldn’t stand to see him slandered.

  However, before he could do anything—

  “Oh, you think I’m going senile, do you? Do you mean to tell me that I, Orcus, have made a mistake, Ping? Someone seems awfully full of themselves.”

  “Hiii!?” Ping squealed like a stuck pig.

  Orcus’ voice wasn’t particularly angry, but Ping shrunk back anyway. His face was pale with fear. Torpa and Raul looked even worse.

  Orcus was a hulking bear of a man. Not only was he massive, but his entire body was covered in thick hair. His thighs were large enough to crush a man’s skull between them.

  In fact, he was often mistaken as a bearman warrior from the Haltina Commonwealth, though he was human through and through. He didn’t have bear ears or a tail.

  Ping smiled guiltily and tried to smooth over his mistake.

  “M-Master... Wh-What are you doing here?”

  “It’s my workshop. What’s wrong with me being here?”

  “U-Umm, nothing! It’s just, I heard you had business at the palace today.”

  Topp Karg D. Orcus, the current head of the Orcus Workshop, harrumphed and peered into Oscar’s box. He didn’t bother to answer Ping’s question.

  Then, he plucked something out of it and examined it carefully.

  The silence that followed was so oppressive that the other craftsmen stopped working and waited with bated breath.