Spending My Retirement In A Game

Eisen felt a surge of warmth in his chest as the happy memory of a moment of the far past filled his mind. The crystal vein in front of him, which flowed through not only through parts of this mountain but also through the entirety of the 'Statue's body, was a monster's ability.

An ability that a certain young swordsman, who traveled to be inspired by nature and numerous living creatures, had learned for himself. It was an ability that Eisen's younger brother had so smugly shown off to him.

"You little rascal... To think you'd hold out for so long," the old man said as a broad smile formed on his face, a smile that soon turned into laughter. Laughter that echoed through the cave, burrowing itself into the ears of everyone around. It was the deafening laughter of a giant.

"Grandfather, what's going on?" Kiron asked with a concerned expression, his hand nervously wrapped around the handle of his greatsword. Caria, Melissa, and Sal also seemed on edge as they looked into Eisen's face, "What do you mean? What would be going on?"

"...I don't know, but..." Kiron swallowed nervously, "I've never seen you cry like this before, Grandfather."

Eisen, surprised, touched his fingertips to his face, feeling the wetness of tears on his cheeks being soaked into the edges of his beard. A confusing surge of emotions was flowing through the old man's body. Joy at having found his younger brother, still alive and holding out to this very moment.

Sorrow at the fact that he had forgotten about him in the first place, and now seeing him be trapped in a nigh-inescapable prison. But neither of these emotions compared to the one that was growing within his chest, overpowering everything else in his mind. The pure and utter hatred and rage that he felt toward the man who had trapped him in this state.

The old man placed his hand onto the crystal vein in front of him, "I swear to you, Silber. I'm going to get you out of there somehow."

"S-Silber?" the sorceress, one of the three executive members of this group who had led Eisen down here, repeated. And the old man nodded his head, wiping the tears from his face, "It's the name of the giant who turned into the 'God of the Mountain'. I guess because of the magical qualities that silver possesses, our father chose that name for him.

He was born with a ridiculous amount of mana in his body, after all. His mother was some kind of Elf, so I guess that was to be expected."

"'Our' father?" Kiron muttered, his hand slowly slipping off the handle of his sword, and the old man turned around, "Yeah. He's my younger brother. Well, half-brother, but you know that I'm not so rigid about things like that."

Slowly, the executives looked at each other. They weren't sure if they believed in this old man's words, but that didn't matter in the end. If he believed this, then he would help in trying to save the man trapped in that rock skin. And considering how powerful he seemed to be, there was no way that they were going to let up this chance. The supporter stepped forward, "So don't you see now?

We've been trying to save him all along. So, are you going to join us in our grand goal?"

"Huh? Oh, right, you guys. No thanks," Eisen waved his hand dismissively, stunning not only the supporter, but the two people standing by his side as well, "O-Oh? B-but-"

"I certainly appreciate you trying to help him and all, but you're going about this totally wrong. This is obviously the Giants' Curse at work here, and you are all obviously skilled and smart enough to not only realize that, but to actually make some difference in the research to break that curse.

I've visited all the clans so far, and there wasn't a single one that wasn't doing at least a little research into it, and this is definitely the case here in the capital as well. The Irngrad is an honest and kind young man and is deeply trusted by nearly all the Chieftains, so it's impossible for that to not be the case.

If you had just brought some of the lead researchers here, proving to them that Silber is still alive... Don't you think you would have gotten this country's support immediately?"

The sorceress tried to refute Eisen's claim, but she couldn't. That was obvious, in the end. While they claimed that they were doing this all just to save Silber, that made no sense at all. With all the ressources they had, with the skilled healers and warriors, they could have saved dozens, if not hundreds, of the people living in poverty in the streets overseen by the 'God of the Mountain'.

If they were filled with nothing but virtue, they would prioritise them instead of a man who has been in something comparable to a coma for tens of thousands of years. Or at the very least, their methods wouldn't be so terror-inflicting.

"Just keep on protecting this vein for now. I'll be taking this whole thing over," Eisen said with a sigh, and the Sorceress glared at him deeply, "What do you mean, taking this over?! Do you think you could just take over our Organization?!"

"Your Organization?" Eisen looked down at the woman in front of him and sighed, "Do you think I need your people? I'm Eisen de Grandour, the King of Asgard, and Original of the Mechanical Arts. My closest friends have powers beyond your comprehension. As if I need your group of ragtag bandits. I meant that I'm taking over the task of saving my brother."

The Pugilist scoffed, trying to play off the immense pressure that Eisen was placing on everyone in the room, "H-Hah, right! As if! You need our help, don't you? If not, then you wouldn't have asked us to protect the vein."

"I think there was a misunderstanding," Eisen replied casually, walking up to the pugilist, placing his hand onto the man's shoulder.

"Right? So stop playing pretend like that and just tell us what you really-"

"That's not what I meant," the old man tightened his grip, his fingers burrowing into the Pugilist's shoulder as his bones broke as though they were made of sand, "I never 'asked' you to do anything. I 'told' you to protect the vein. Because if I come back here, and that vein even has the slightest scratch on it, you will feel a wrath that you cannot experience even in the depths of hell."

---

"Thank you all for coming today," the Irngrad said with a light smile on his face, looking around at the Chieftains around him, "While it was the Grandour that had called this meeting, I don't think there is any need for him to explain the circumstances. As I was told, you had all been visited by a certain man, either before or during your travels to this place?"

The clan chieftains all stayed quiet, either simply nodding or looking around at each other to see what the others were thinking.

"In that case, I guess we should get right to the gist of it. Who here trusts in the words of that man, and believes him to be 'Eisen de Grandour', the Original of the Mechanical Arts?"

"A number of hands were raised. It was exactly half of the chieftains that seemed to have been convinced. Though, to the surprise of many, even the Cloud Giant chieftain was counted amongst them. He was sitting there, a piece of white cloth held in front of his hand, so as to breathe as little of the same air as these people around him as he could.

"Even you, Skald?" the Irngrad asked surprised, and he simply nodded his head, "How could I not? You all know of the events in the Grandour's arena, and not only that, but you were even visited by him personally. How could any of you still hold doubts?"

"Those fights, while certainly impressive in nature, are not something that can only be achieved through an Original's power. Rather, if that were the case, and this is certainly not meant as an insult, dear Grandour, their victory would have been incomparably more overwhelming," the Bralfam, the Stone Giant chieftain, pointed out, showing his own doubts.

While he himself hadn't raised his hands, he still put faith into Eisen's words. To him, it didn't matter whether he was who he claimed to be; his power, influence, and the weight behind his words were enough to convince the Bralfam of the severity of the situation.

The Grandour shook his head with a scoff, "None taken. You're right, honestly. If Eisen hadn't lost his power, then it wouldn't even have gotten to those fights. He would have just turned a toothpick into an incomprehensible artifact that could let a child do all the fighting against my champions."

"That is exactly the issue at hand. Should we truly believe that not only someone such as Eisen, but all the other Originals, had their powers taken from them?" The Chieftain of the Desert Giants, one of the ones that still didn't believe Eisen's words, asked, her chin propped up on her two hands.

"How else would we explain the existence of the Artificial men that stormed the central continent?" the Bralfam asked, and the Desert Giant chieftain glared over at him, "Whose side are you even on?"

The Bralfam shrugged, "I'm on the side that truly matters. I put little worth in that man himself, in whether he is who he says he is, but rather, in the potential consequence of his words. Whether he is that 'Eisen', he is a king who came here himself, visiting the chieftains, warning them of the ploys of a wicked man."