Copyright
Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers, Vol. 1
Ishio Yamagata
Translation by Jennifer Ward
Cover art by Miyagi
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
ROKKA NO YUSHA
© 2011 by Ishio Yamagata, Miyagi
All rights reserved. First published in Japan in 2011 by SHUEISHA, Inc.
English translation rights arranged with SHUEISHA, Inc. through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2017 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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First Yen On eBook Edition: January 2020
Originally published in paperback in April 2017 by Yen On.
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ISBN: 978-1-9753-1161-2
E3-20200108-JV-NF-ORI
Prologue
The Forest of Peril
The legends speak of a time when evil will awaken from the depths of darkness to transform the land into hell. They say that the Spirit of Fate will select six Braves and bestow upon them the power to face this great danger.
The story that follows is about those Braves, destined to be the saviors of the world. But the most important point concerning their story is this: There are most definitely six Braves chosen to save the world. Not five, not seven. Only six.
A boy ran through a forest enshrouded in deep fog. He was a young swordsman, his long red hair fluttering behind him. He wore light leather armor over hempen clothes, with an iron-plated headband tied about his forehead. In his right hand, he grasped a rather small but sturdily made sword. Most noticeable, though, were the four wide belts wrapped around his waist. Affixed to those belts were a few dozen small pouches.
The boy’s breath was ragged. He was wounded. His coarse clothes were torn in a number of places, exposing sharp gashes in his skin. His leather armor was charred, and both arms were covered in burns. Blood poured from his wounds, dyeing his shoes bright red. Wounds of this degree would have long since brought a normal man to his knees.
The boy’s name was Adlet Mayer. He was turning eighteen. As he ran, he looked nervously over his shoulder. The fog and dense leaves obstructed the light, making the forest dark. He could just faintly pick out a figure through the murky fog. He was being followed. His pursuer pressed closer, only about thirty meters behind. This is bad, he thought, and it was that moment when a voice echoed through the forest.
“There you are!” The cry came from a girl. Her voice was high and soft, like the trill of a baby bird.
“Ngh!” Just as Adlet heard her, a blade sprouted at his feet. It was silver, about three meters in length, springing up from empty ground, its point aimed precisely at Adlet’s heart. He swung his sword with a backhand stroke. The quartz decoration fitted into the hilt of his weapon just barely protected him from being skewered. The impact threw him backward, and the blade that had assailed him shattered into fragments. As he rolled away, he plunged his sword into the ground. Then, lifting his body with the strength of his arms, he leaped. Three more blades immediately rose from the ground. Adlet just barely skimmed over their tips.
“Did I get him?” asked his pursuer.
Adlet landed on the ground and replied. “Not even close. When you’re trying to finish someone off, you’ve got to be quieter about it,” he said, setting off running once more. He ran until his tormentor disappeared into the fog and he couldn’t see her anymore. “Try harder! You’re not gonna catch the strongest man in the world like that!”
“You just won’t give up!” The girl persisted in her pursuit.
Adlet cradled his right arm as he ran. To be honest, he hadn’t fully dodged that last attack. Blood flowed from a gash in his upper arm. That bragging had been the most he could manage, a bluff for the sake of hiding his injury.
As Adlet fled, he looked at the back of his right hand. A strange crest was tattooed upon it. Roughly the size of a baby’s palm, the design was a filigree circle with a six-petaled flower in the center. The crest glowed faintly, a pale shade of crimson. Gazing at it, Adlet muttered, “I’m not gonna get killed. A Brave of the Six Flowers isn’t gonna die in a place like this.”
The crest on Adlet’s right hand was commonly referred to as the Crest of the Six Flowers. It was proof that he was one of the chosen Braves fated to save the world.
The legends speak of a fearsome creature that slumbers at the westernmost tip of the continent. It is said to have a repulsive shape and power far beyond human comprehension. Its only purpose is to kill. When this creature awakens, it—in the company of tens of thousands of servants known as fiends—will overrun the world, transforming it into hell. This creature has no name. It is referred to only as the Evil God.
The legends speak of a time when the Evil God ends its enduring dormancy and rises once again. It is then that the Spirit of Fate will choose six Braves. They say that a crest in the shape of a flower appears
