AN: This chapter presented a challenge. It expands on The Things He Sees Beyond the Point of His Sword, which is a spinoff written by Hajime Kanzaka, and as it has never been officially translated or adapted to anime form the important plot points are not well known. Since what happens is so pivotal to Gourry's character and since some readers of this fic will go in with little background I couldn't assume people would know how to fill in the gaps with the story so I put in a lot of framing with the themes I've been developing while staying close to how the plot unfolds in the spinoff.
The spinoff was translated by the wonderful QPDiana, who is a native Japanese speaker and lives in Japan and she was THE source of official information for Slayers fans back in the heyday. I can't overstate QPDiana's importance and contributions to the fandom as there is a wealth of information about the series that never would have made it to the English speaking world without her. I have a lot of gratitude and respect for QPDiana, Japanese is a very different language from English and the bravery of running an English language site when it is not your native language can't be underestimated. Further, she took a lot of time to answer questions from English speaking fans. I was one of those fans and she was very sweet and explained things well. And without her translation we likely would not know about the The Things He Sees Beyond the Point of His Sword and its importance. So I'm not wanting to nitpick or disparage her translation. Her translation is incredible for someone who is not a native English speaker and who, to my knowledge, has never lived in an English speaking country.
I went back and forth on how to handle the dialogue and eventually decided to make some minor edits for clarity because as a native English speaker writing I set a high bar for myself. There are also a few points where I am making my best guess about something, which given my professional training where I seek clarity is hard for me, but sadly QPDiana has been out of fandom for years now. So there may be some errors or misreadings on my end basically, which make me a bit nervous. Anyway, thankfully the wonderful Wayback Machine saved the translation (you can check out the notes for this chapter on AO3 if you are wanting the link to read it). The amazing Scrik also did an animated telling of it in his Slayers, Unlimited series, which is also based on something I wrote called Slayers Resolution, so check it out!
Gourry didn't have a destination in mind when he left Sairaag. Only a compulsion to head west, as far from the Elmekian Empire as it was possible to get. He'd heard that if he walked far enough he would reach a sea that no one had been able to cross. Fantasies of finding a boat and sailing into unknown waters and being the first to find what was on the other side consumed him as he stopped for the night at a traveler's lodge that was blissfully empty. He kicked off his boots and placed the sword beside him. He had cold steel when he what he wanted was a warm body to sleep beside.
He got into bed and tried to fight off the despair. He would sail the seas and find a land filled with people who weren't tempted by the Sword of Light. And then if such people didn't exist then surely at some point the sea would swallow him up and he could say that it was an accident.
At some point sleep finally claimed him and brought him dreams of his family, dreams that threw him into an abrupt and panicked wakening as he clutched at his chest as though he could relieve the tightness within. As he oriented himself he became aware of the sunlight streaming through the windows and the drive to head west reasserted itself and was grounding.
He got up, put on his boots and pulled out some rations. And then he left and continued on the road and soon saw the markers for a town called Kulsida. By the time it was early afternoon he had reached the sea. He had gone as far west as it was possible to go without a boat. And once he was there he realized just how foolish it was to even consider getting one and sailing it. He'd grown up in a desert after all. He'd never learned to sail.
The sea was beautiful, but he had no one to share it with. Because of that cursed sword! He drew the sword and stared at it. It never ceased to irritate him how calming the shade of the blue surface of the blade was, as though it was hiding the murderous rage that the sword would inspire. He looked at the hilt and the strange decorations that he could never make sense of, that he never spent much time thinking about because of the memories of the rage that rose.
If it wasn't for the sword…!
Before he was conscious of what he was doing he lifted his arm to hurl it into the sea. He had to get as far away from the sword as possible and to get the sword as far away from humanity as possible. And then, perhaps, the memories would fade…
"Will you throw it away?" Someone asked, and Gourry froze and wondered how he'd not noticed that he was alone, "It's wasteful."
Gourry turned to see a man with long, black hair staring at his fishing line and appearing disinterested. Except for the fact that he was obviously meddling. "Do you have a grudge against your sword?" the man asked and Gourry noted that though he had a cigarette in his mouth it was not lit.
Gourry blushed a little, feeling as though the man could somehow see right through him. Something about the man reminded him of Master Janawes. And then he thought about what Master Janawes would say if he learned that he'd thrown away the sword and his embarrassment grew.
"You haven't lit your cigarette…" Gourry finally said.
"I quit smoking. My wife and children dislike it."
"Do you have a wife and children? Are you so old as to have a family?" Gourry asked, perplexed that he could not get a good read on the other man's age.
"My age isn't your business." He snarked, "And? Will you throw it away? Your sword?"
"It's not your business either." Gourry said. "Uh, let me tell you that if you hope for me to give this sword to you, I won't."
"No, I won't hope for that…I know that it's not my business. I don't care what will happen to you and your sword. I don't care if someone else takes it and will kill many men. I don't care if you will save people with that sword. All are not my business."
I don't care if you will save people with that sword. The phrase echoed in Gourry's mind. He'd always wanted to save people. It had been how he'd justified training with the sword to himself. Perhaps, somehow, he could save his family through swordplay. But it had proved impossible. He'd never saved anyone.
The image of the boy he had rescued in Sairaag with Sylphiel flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away. That was the exception. Don't go thinking it could be the rule.
Still, Gourry was intrigued enough to encourage the strange man who, while he had stopped speaking, was obviously choking on something he wanted to spit out, "So...what do you want to say?"
Something flashed in his eyes as he was given permission to continue, "Well...when I was younger than I am today, I was a mercenary, too. In those days, I had a policy. Call a man 'second class' when he doesn't care about his sword. And call a man 'under third class' when he is hard on his sword. Thus, I was interested in you and meddled."
Gourry was stunned silent with shame. Usually he wanted people to underestimate him. He knew what his skill was like and had nothing to prove. But he also knew better than to disrespect his weapon. And he was disrespecting it. Grandmother would have been disappointed. For once, someone had underestimated him with good reason and he didn't like it.
"Don't mind me." The man said as he looked back at his fishing line, "Just throw away your sword as long as you don't like it. And throw away the things in your mind, too."
Gourry said nothing as he wished that it were so easy to throw away the things in his mind. Regardless, he could hardly throw away the sword with the man watching. He sheathed it. "Mister, may I have your name?"
"Don't call me 'Mister'. Haven't you learned your manners? When you ask for someone's name, give your name first."
"My name is," Gourry hesitated a moment for reasons he could not articulate. But then what harm could come from giving his name? "Gourry. Gourry Gabriev."
"Good, honest boy. Here is my advice for you. When you give your name first, not all men will give his name to you. This is the way of the world."
"...What's that?" Gourry said as he shrugged and turned around. He'd been made a fool of and for once he gave a damn. He gathered as much dignity as he could muster and walked back to the inn as a cascade of feelings ran through him. What did that man know? He had good reasons to be angry at the sword! And who was he anyway, interfering! Why wouldn't he give his name? Sure, Gourry had made a poor first impression but that was no reason to withhold his name!
And what did he know about him or his life? Surely if he knew all of the misery that sword had brought he might see that there was no choice but to throw it away. Or understand why he was tempted. But to say that he could save people with it!
But didn't it also mean that the man thought that it was possible for him, Gourry, to save people?
The embarrassment faded to curiosity. Could he actually save someone? Could he save many people? Could he be like Hikara?
Memories visited him. Of how no amount of pleading or reason would get through to his family. Violence was the only thing they responded to, and they were also willing to embrace devious methods that he never would. It was hard to win when you fought fair against people who didn't. But still, with Gunther gone perhaps things could be different? Or was he fooling himself?
Always the foolish dreamer, he thought to himself as he went into the inn.
Ever since Grandmother had died Gourry had wondered how it was possible to scream so loudly for help and for no one to hear. At first he yearned for someone to see his pain and honor it. But as the days stretched to months and then to years Gourry learned to accept that it would just be something that he carried within him unacknowledged. So as Gourry sat with his hand on his chin at the restaurant in the inn and waited for his food he didn't expect anyone to notice or care that he was screaming inside.
So when the man from the harbor started another conversation him Gourry wasn't sure what to think. Surely any hopes that the man saw something worthy in him were the delusions of someone desperate for some sign that he mattered. And after getting his hopes up in Sairaag the thought of feeling the biting edge of despair yet again was unthinkable. Gourry didn't even turn towards him as he tried to project an air of unfriendliness, "Oh, it's you..."
Yet the man didn't get the message. Not only did he keep talking but, to Gourry's dismay, he sat down at the table uninvited! "The sword, you haven't thrown it away."
Gourry did not want to revisit that. Especially since the urge to explain why he tried to throw it away, to make him understand, was so powerful that Gourry feared that if he wasn't careful he would say too much. "Leave it alone. Why do you sit there? There are many empty seats."
But the man didn't leave and instead insisted that it was more fun to eat with company as he repelled Gourry's attempts to shoo him away as he zeroed in on Gourry's open display of his troubled mind, to the point that when Gourry noticed that they were being watched by three men he was initially relieved.
"You are a traveling fighter, aren't you?" And old man with a grey beard said.
"Yes, I am..."
"Well, we want to talk with you for a while. Can we have dinner with you and talk?"
Gourry accepted and then watched as the old man left briefly to talk to the hostess before he came back to sit down with him and the man with the long, black hair. The two other men stayed on either sides of the old man like guards as Gourry prompted him to tell them their story.
"Yes, I am the village mayor, Kyle Bunitz," the old man said as the waitress brought out a meal of fish, bread and salad. "Please eat it. You can listen my story as you eat. Please."
Something seemed off to Gourry, but he couldn't figure out what as he started to eat the salad as Kyle started to explain how the village had troubles and how they earned their livelihood from hunting and fishing when Gourry moved to stick the fish with his fork. Suddenly the man with the long, black hair said, "Wait! Sorry for my interrupting." He turned to look at Gourry, "I'll give you some advice. Don't eat that boiled fish. It is poisoned."
"What?" Gourry said as he pulled away from the table as Kyle and his men turned pale with guilt.
As the man with the long, black hair explained how he smelled the poison of the Borgi sea snake all Gourry could think of was how close to death he'd just come. Strange how he was thinking of going to sea in the hopes that he would eventually drown, and suddenly here he was, caring that he could have died!
And then one of the men rushed towards the table to grab Gourry's sword. While usually Gourry felt a heaviness when he grabbed it, this time he felt a potential he could not understand as he seized it and knocked the back of his attacker's head with its sheath as he stood up.
"What is this?" Gourry asked the mayor.
A scuffle ensued as Kyle begged for forgiveness as Gourry and the man with the long, black hair fled from the inn. But once they got outside they were greeted with the entirety of the village populace holding the weapons of untrained peasants. Knives. Pitchforks. If there had only been a few of them Gourry had no doubt he'd be able to handle it without killing anyone, but there were so many!
"What will we do?" the man with the long, black hair asked, "Will you kill all those men with your sword?"
"I don't want to do that!" Gourry said even as he took the sword and unsheathed it. Surely this could not be the purpose his sword was meant for! But it always ended this way. It always ended in violence and dead people. People who had hopes and dreams and, while Gourry didn't know why they were doing this, Kyle's reaction clued him into how desperate they were. And desperate people do regrettable things. But did it mean they should die for it? In the end, how could he even fathom that it could be different? The he wouldn't end the evening wiping blood from its blade.
But as the villagers came closer the man with the long, black hair shouted, "Do you know what are you doing? When you show your willingness to kill someone, it is the same thing to declare that you won't care if you're killed by your target. Do you know that it hurts when you are cut by the sword?"
Gourry watched as he somehow made eye contact with each of the villagers, taking a moment to see each of them as he continued, "At first, you feel as if you are only hit by a rod. But when you see your blood all around and see your arm or leg on the ground, you feel the extreme pain. No. It's more than pain. It is just like a pair of burning sticks doing a tap dance on your wound and the shock goes to the top of your head. When you feel the shock, you'll die. Or, if you don't die, you'll suffer from both the pain and fever. Now, who will taste the pain first?"
Gourry watched in amazement as the villagers wavered. Somehow, even though he only carried a fishing rod and his baggage, the villagers were cowed by him, and without him even so much as lifting a finger against them! The thought of feeling pain was enough to keep them frozen.
"Well? No one volunteers. Alright, we will choose the first one. Come on, Gourry. You shall go..." the man with the long, black hair pointed in the direction of the street. "This way!"
Gourry was stunned as the villagers parted way and a path to the street opened up before them. It seemed too good to be true! Gourry thought of Gunther who would not have hesitated to butcher the entire town and what a different man this person was. But then the man yelled, "Go!"
They ran, and Gourry felt in awe of this man who had disarmed a murderous crowd so peacefully. If he could do it, perhaps Gourry could do it himself one day? Perhaps, somehow, he wouldn't end this mission cleaning the blood of the villagers from his blade.
The situation did not inspire hope. Gourry was hiding with the man with the long, black hair at the base of a hill as they figured out what to do. And while after Sairaag hope was still a treacherous emotion for him, Gourry couldn't help but to succumb to it. That perhaps he could do something with the Sword of Light, something worthy. Something other than spill the blood of other humans. Perhaps he could even be like Hikara who slew the demon beast Zanaffar.
And so he plotted with the man with the long, black hair. About how best to approach the situation. About how they needed to find the wirepuller and stop the problem at the source. And there, for the first time, Gourry opened up about his family. Not much. Just that there had been troubles in his family over the sword and how he had run away and blamed the sword for those troubles. And about how now he wanted to see what he could do with the sword.
A moment of vulnerability followed. It's hard to have a family that you're not proud of. What did it say about him that his family let themselves be torn apart by a sword? The man with the long, black hair already had a bad opinion of him. For a moment Gourry feared whatever judgement he would have.
But the man with the long, black hair smiled and agreed to work with him. And Gourry felt worthy as, together, they set out to capture some villagers to find out who the wirepuller was.
Gourry had been trained to fight fantastical zanaffars in a world that was devoid of them but full of men blinded by greed for power. Perhaps a few hundred years ago there was a reason that the Sword of Light existed, but heroes like Hikara had ensured that things were far tamer now. It was good for humanity but bad for someone with his skill set. All there was to do in life was to protect such a powerful weapon from other humans.
Or so Gourry thought.
It wasn't too long before they'd found a group of four villagers. Gourry stayed in the thicket as the man with the long, black hair threatened, "Be quiet or you'll die."
"Don't put on a brave air when you only have a fishing rod!" one of the men shouted. Admittedly it was something that had puzzled Gourry as well, but something about the man indicated that he could hold his own somehow.
One of the men attacked, and the man with the black hair spun the fishing rod and stopped just short of hitting him in the eyes. As he covered his face the man with black hair grabbed him by the collar, "Listen to me. I was once a mercenary. I can choke you, an ordinary man, with my bare hands. If you don't want to die, give me an answer. Why did you try to kill us?"
"I... I... We don't want to kill! But if we don't, we'll be killed! There was nothing we can do except to try to kill you!"
"You'll be killed?" the man with the long, black hair said with a frown.
And then Gourry felt it. A presence full of malice and bloodlust that did not seem human. The man with the long, black hair must have felt it too as he jumped back as the villager was attacked, his body shattering in a shower of blood. Gourry's stomach turned as he wondered what could do such a thing as the other villagers screamed and ran back to the village.
"What was that?" Gourry asked, mystified. The presence had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. And Gourry couldn't think of anything that could do such a thing. Well, one thing. But those were just stories to scare children, weren't they?
"The wirepuller." The man with the long, black hair said as he headed back towards the village. "If I'm right the enemy is not an ordinary one. I think that you'd better not come with me."
Gourry felt irritation once again at how they had met as he shot back, "Come on, I know that you are strong, but I have a little confidence in my skill!"
"A little confidence isn't enough. If you could kill a plasma dragon with a kitchen knife like my elder daughter did, I wouldn't stop you."
Kill a dragon with a plasma knife!? It was too fantastical to believe! Surely he was talking nonsense! But then, Gourry considered as he talked the man with the long, black hair into letting him accompany him, whatever it was that had killed the villager was also too fantastical to believe. Yet Gourry had not only seen it with his own eyes, he had sensed and felt it.
And if those fantastical things were real, well, perhaps there still was a need for heroes wielding absurdly powerful swords.
It did not take long for them to find the mayor. As the man with the long, black hair confronted him, Gourry focused on any sign of the wirepuller in the area. It didn't take long for Gourry to sense the same malevolent presence behind the shack, watching their confrontation. Gourry kept an eye on him but waited for some signal from the man with the long, black hair, who Gourry was willing to bet good money likely knew about the presence as well.
"You are mean, but you are far much better than the mean creature that threatened you and gave you the orders. It can't do anything else but hide itself behind the shack, trembling." The man said, vindicating Gourry's instincts.
The villagers tensed with fear as the creature said, "Oh, you know that I am here…"
"Master Ruzouru!" the villagers pleaded and Gourry tried to figure out what he was. It was obvious that they were terrified of him, and Gourry was starting to suspect that he wasn't human, but he still clung to some threads of disbelief.
But the man with the long, black hair seemed to have an explanation as he boldly asserted, "My younger daughter studies magic. Before she went on her journey, she told me many things that relate to magic. I heard that your tribes eats the fear and hostility of the human. Probably, you came to this small village, knowing that the village had no guardians, and threatened the villagers to kill the travelers, right?"
The threads of disbelief tightened. Surely the man with the long, black hair was crazy! First he talked about his older daughter killing a plasma dragon with a kitchen knife and now his younger one telling him in all seriousness about a tribe like that!
But then Ruzouru moved from the shack, and Gourry felt the disbelief melt away as he realized that he was not a man but a shadow, one whose head was too big, body too slim and arms too long! For a moment he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him but as the dim light fell upon it he could see that there was no hair, ears, nose or mouth. Only eyes. Many eyes. More eyes that anyone human could have. But then Gourry realized something. It had no mouth, but somehow, earlier, it had spoke!
"No way!" Gourry gave a cry of surprise. "How can it speak without a mouth?"
"Why are you surprised at the way it talks, not at its appearance?" The man with the long, black hair complained. "It is Mazoku. Be careful. This is a troublesome enemy."
Mazoku!? Gourry had heard stories but he'd been sure that they were just stories. But how else could he explain what stood before him? Or why the villagers were murdering innocent travelers? Still, before he could think about it too much there was a fight to be won.
"Yes, you are right." Ruzouru said, "Those men are mean. After I killed several men I ordered them to kill the travelers who stay in the village, or more villagers would die. I expected that there would be several men who would resist me, but no one did! Moreover, they took and shared the money and property of their victims. They are so mean that they became holdup men, and blamed their reason on my orders."
As the villagers became angry and embarrassed Ruzouru's eyes turned upwards into a smile, "And that's why I like this village. I won't let the men from outside of the village disturb me. If you want to destroy my place…"
"Will you kill me just like you killed the man in the hills?" the man with the long, black hair said.
"Yes, I will. Now I will show you to fear Mazoku!"
Ruzouru's opened his eyed wide as Gourry and the man with the long, black hair jumped away. The ground they had been on had exploded as Ruzouru attacked them with a speed that they could see that the villagers could not.
Ruzouru released another attack and the man with the long, black hair ran straight towards him, dodging the spells with skill.
"And what will you do?" Ruzouru challenged with a laugh as the man swung his right hand and hit Ruzouru's head with his fishing rod. The Mazoku gave a silent cry as Gourry watched in surprise as he jumped back. As Gourry tried to make sense of how a fishing rod could harm a Mazoku Ruzouru yelled, "No way!?"
"You want to say that an ordinary weapon can't harm you. And yet I hit you with a fishing rod." The man with the long, black hair sneered at Ruzouru. "You want to say that for a pure Mazoku only spiritual attacks with magical power or the power of will can work. Yes, I know it. But it means that if a human channels his will power into things in his hand just like I did, a fishing rod can give the same amount of damage to the Mazoku as a sword that is channeled with will power. Anyway, this is what I learned from my daughter."
Suddenly, Gourry found the idea that his elder daughter had slain a plasma dragon with a kitchen knife far more plausible.
"I see... But... You can't be powerful enough to kill me with one blow, and you are so talkative... Probably, you can't give a critical blow..."
The breath seized in Gourry's throat as he realized the Ruzouru had forgotten about him! This was his chance! He grabbed the hilt of his sword as a sense of power and purpose flooded through him. This was the moment he had trained for! This was why he had been burdened with such a weapon! This was something he could do to save the lives of many people! Not just those of the villagers but of the future travelers who came to the village.
"Now, you'll die to pay for your insulting me!" Ruzouru said as he launched a ruthless attack on the man with the long, black hair.
Gourry watched as Ruzouro created multiple black balls and hurled them at the man, breaking them apart as he dodged them nimbly to make them more difficult to avoid as the dust rose from the ground. Gourry noted that whoever he was he was a pro as he disappeared into the dust that rose, masking his presence well and giving Gourry the opening he needed.
"What?" Ruzouru asked as the man with the long, black hair disappeared from sight.
As he was distracted Gourry ran to him and drew his sword. He dropped the blade and charged at Ruzouru with an empty hilt. Ruzouru laughed at him. But Gourry didn't mind. If anything he was enjoying this! Because he knew that Ruzouru would not have reason to laugh for long!
"Light come forth!" Gourry shouted.
The Sword of Light hummed to life and Gourry used it to cut through Ruzouru from one shoulder to the waist. Purpose guided him. Having a good reason to use the sword was exhilarating! For a moment, all of it, every horrible thing he had been through, the loss of all he had loved, had been worth it.
Instead of blood, the Mazoku's body started to crumble to dust. The only blood spilled that day was drawn by Ruzouru, a fact that Gourry found to be incredibly satisfying.
"Elmekia Lance!" the man with the long, black hair cast as he re-appeared through a cloud of dust.
Gourry swung his sword one more time as the spell hit and decapitated the Mazoku. Soon all that was left of him was dust on the wind. An unusual sense of accomplished enveloped Gourry as he looked at the man with the long, black hair and observed, "You can use offensive spells."
"I learned it from my younger daughter. I planned to use it as my last card, but..."
Gourry saw how the man with the long black hair looked at his sword and felt a surge of disappointment wash through him at the man's bitter smile "You said that it was a sword with a story, and I thought it was a cheap magical sword. But it is the legendary Sword of Light!"
Gourry felt himself tense once more as he wondered if he had been too overconfident earlier about avoiding bloodshed. Somehow this sword had a way of bringing out the worst in humans. Still, this man who had been so different from Gunther and Father, surely he wouldn't fight Gourry for it?
The man put a hand on Gourry's shoulder. "If you throw it away, please give it to me."
"You said that you wouldn't hope it!" Gourry reminded him, hoping to not become enemies over this.
"Idiot! If it were a cheap magical sword, I wouldn't hope that. But it is the Sword of Light! Give it now, give it to me, please! Gimmie the sword!"
"No, I won't!"
"Was it...destroyed?" a villager asked. Gourry was grateful for the interruption as the man told the villagers off and made sure they would be accountable for their crimes.
And then the he turned to him and said, "Let's go, Gourry."
Gourry was caught off guard. Was the man luring him outside of the village to trick him into giving up his sword? In his gut Gourry did not think that was the case so he followed him as they made plans to sleep in the woods. Gourry tried to ignore the voice in his head that was telling him that the man would kill him in his sleep and take his sword. After all the man avoided killing any of the villagers when he had a good reason to do so, so surely he wouldn't stoop to that?
You trusting, naïve fool! Gunther's voice sounded in his mind. I trusted the wrong person. Look at what happened to me!
Gourry tried to stop the thoughts as the man mumbled, "When my wife finds my clothes stained she will complain about it."
"Oh, are you scared of your wife?" he asked, desperate to get Gunther's paranoia out of his head.
"Idiot, I love my wife."
When Gourry woke around the campsite the next morning he was unharmed and the Sword of Light was beside him, as always. Yet Gourry didn't feel the heaviness that he typically did when he looked at it. For the first time he felt potential.
He grabbed the sword as the smell of coffee filled the air. He turned to see that the man with the long, black hair was making breakfast. "So, where are you off to?" Gourry asked.
"It's time I head on back home." The man said as he handed Gourry a cup of coffee.
"Thanks." He said as a plate of breakfast followed.
"And where will you go?" the man with the long, black hair asked.
Gourry shrugged as he ate, "I'll see where the road takes me. Now that I know that Mazoku really do exist, well, it seems that maybe I really can save a lot of lives with this sword."
The man with the long, black hair smiled, "There you go."
They chatted amiably as they ate but quickly broke up camp. Given how dark it was when they left Kulsida they had not gotten that far from it and they wanted to put as much distance between themselves and the town as possible. So they packed up and got on the main road and soon went their separate ways, and without Gourry having ever gotten the man with the long, black hair's name.
For four days Gourry traveled aimlessly, wondering if he would run into more Mazoku. Yet the world was as ordinary as always. Gourry would vacillate from wondering if he could do something with the sword to disbelief. How often do you come upon Mazokus and zanaffars and other powerful beings after all? Or did he never see them simply because he always felt it was useless to get involved? If it had not been for the man he never would have dug beneath the surface in Kulsida. He'd always given up before he tried.
So when he saw a young girl dressed like a sorceress in the woods surrounded by bandits he initially returned to his old way of thinking. There was no reason to get involved. She didn't seem scared, if anything she radiated confidence. But he touched the hilt of his sword and a sense of purpose filled him once more. He would never know what else he could do with this sword if he didn't try!
So he drew it and embraced the sense of purpose that flowed through him as he said, "Alright guys. That's enough."
AN: The main novels are told first person from Lina's point of view, and I've often wished for Hajime Kanzaka to do an alternate take based on Gourry's point of view. Lovingastory has done an incredible job of this on her own with her wonderful story What He Sees. I do have some themes in this that I want to develop into the novels continuity, and fortunately the scenes that she has focused on are different from the ones that I have been planning on developing for the most part (and it goes to show just how much rich material there is in the novels to mine), so I plan to continue with this.
Further, Gourry's line in the spinoff is translated, "Alright guys. That's enough." In the novels his line is translated, "Hold it right there." While I don't know what the original lines are in Japanese, I am taking this and making use of the unreliable narrator thing on Lina's end (and Gourry's end). Whenever you have more than one person in a situation you have multiple truths. When you have two people you have 3 truths. You have person A's truth, person B's truth and THE truth, and they all overlap and diverge in interesting ways. So I plan to have fun with this.