"Beast, Answer My Call!" V1 Chapter 4 - Baldanders
"Huh..."
Orphen put his right hand on his chin and mumbled something. He turned to Cleao, who was standing beside him.
"You got me."
"Well. Either way, I'm glad it's taken care of. This warehouse was a mess."
As a matter of fact, Orphen was thinking something similar.
Cleao was the first to notice that the warehouse had been ransacked — apparently she would come down to the warehouse in her spare time and look around for something interesting. Even so, it wasn't entirely accurate to say that it had been "devastated." Actually, the thieves had sorted and rearranged an entire section of the warehouse to find what they were looking for.
"Maybe we should pay him a part-time wage."
Orphen mocked, and Cleao shrugged.
"The thieves don't seem to have stolen anything."
"I guess they didn't find what they were looking for. I don't know what the Sword of Baldanders looks like, but there must be hundreds of swords in this warehouse, right?"
"Yeah. I counted them in the past, and there were more than eight hundred. That was when my father was still alive, so he might've bought even more of them after that."
"Still, it'd take half a day to check them all. That's probably why Childman wanted us to bring him the sword in the first place. Anyway... How do you know they didn't take anything? You didn't do an inventory check, did you?"
"Oh right. I found this at the entrance of the warehouse. I also haven't told my mother about it yet. That's probably for the best, right?"
Cleao held out a piece of paper. He read it by the light of the gas lamp from the passageway, and saw that it read something along the lines of "The sword is to be brought to us by tonight."
"I see. You'd still better report this to Tishtinee, then. If they try to come back, there'll be trouble in the house."
Orphen said. Cleao looked up at him anxiously and asked.
"Hey. That letter... was it written by that assassin from earlier today?"
"No... I think it was written by the other one, Childman. I mean, the Black Tiger was probably keeping us busy so Childman could sneak into the warehouse, or something like that."
"He's a very powerful sorcerer, isn't it? That man..."
"Yeah. He's my teacher. It's no exaggeration to say that he's the most powerful black-magic sorcerer on the continent. He's also had professional training and could be a true, hardcore, iron killer."
"............"
Hearing this, Cleao chewed her thumbnail with some degree of dejection. She had something to say, but she couldn't say it. Orphen laid a hand on her small golden head.
"What is it? Are you worried?"
"Yes, I am. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"No... I mean, if you're planning on getting into another sword fight, then don't. Sorcerers from the Tower of Fang don't kill for nothing but they can turn around and slaughter through any cruel means they see fit if they have to."
Cleao looked up at him from under her tousled bangs and asked.
"... Orphen, are you one of them?"
"Me?"
Orphen gave a wry smile.
"I'm... I couldn't do it, so I dropped out."
Remembering Azalie, he took his hand off of Cleao's head. He turned to leave the warehouse, bringing Cleao with him.
Cleao, for some reason, looked up at him all bright-eyed, as if she were suddenly relieved of a great burden. She asked in her usual cheerful tone.
"Hey Orphen, what's going on with you? Do you have a girlfriend or something?"
"I don't have a girlfriend, but there's a woman who I admire."
Orphen swallowed his lines as he was about to say them. She knew that woman too, but if he'd told her that he'd given up his career in pursuit of that strange-looking creature, she might've questioned his sanity.
As he turned away and closed the door of the warehouse, Cleao continued to ask.
"Who is she? What kind of person is she?"
"Tishtinee, I guess."
When Orphen answered, Cleao was dumbstruck. Orphen laughed.
"I'm just kidding. She's missing, that's all. I'm looking for her."
Generally speaking, he wasn't lying. Cleao's next question was simpler.
"If you find her, will you marry her?"
Orphen thought for a moment before answering.
"... I don't think so. She's not... how to say it, she's not that type of person, you know? I guess that's why I look up to her. Respecting her and liking her are two different things, if you know what I mean?"
"I guess so."
Cleao agreed, locked the door, and turned to face him.
"What type of person do you think you'd fall in love with?"
"I don't know. I never thought about it, to tell you the truth."
Orphen decided not to go into too much detail on that front.
"By the way, Cleao, you said you learned to use a sword at school, but do schools really have a club like that? Fencing is a sport, isn't it?"
"I go to the downtown school. I didn't want to go to the same school as my sister."
"Heh... Still, what kind of club is it? A sword fighting club?"
"No. A war club."
"... Quit that place."
Orphen mumbled in disgust and rubbed his forehead. He followed behind the girl as she climbed the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He touched his fingertips to the ring that Cleao had given him.
He recognized it. He was confident that his memory was absolutely correct about what it was.
"... Can you read these letters, Krylancelo?"
As she asked, she held up a small ring. Krylancelo looked it over with a scrutinizing gaze, then pushed it back towards her as if in resignation.
"What is that? Are those really letters?"
That was his only answer. She — Azalie, the most feared sorceress in the Tower, also known as the Demon Witch — sat down on a couch in the common room and giggled.
"Of course they're letters. The ancient sorcerers, who practiced a very different kind of magic from ours, created them."
"But we still can't read them, even now, right? And the ancients are dead, aren't they? So there's nobody in the world that can speak the language."
"... That's not necessarily true. Besides, the deciphering of this script, the Wyrd Graphs, is steadily progressing. I'm participating in that research, so you can learn, too. You can do it, can't you?"
"... Why me?"
"Because, on precedence, it looks like you're going to be my assistant."
She winked her seductive brown eyes at him.
"Really?"
Krylancelo asked, literally jumping up and down, and she nodded with a laugh.
"You haven't heard the results of the test yet, I take it? Well, why don't I tell you? If you're trying to be modest, sorry about that... but the examiner's words were "Well, it's more or less correct."
She said, tossing the silver ring into the air and catching it in her hand. She tilted her head somewhat proudly, her eyes full of admiration.
"Well, whatever the case, I'm sure you'll be able to do it. I'll give you the answer just this one time, but next time you'll have to figure it out for yourself. The ring is inscribed with the words "Drop your weapons." In other words, it protects the bearer from disaster, but it'll probably only work once."
"Just once?"
"Yes. The writing isn't particularly accurate. It probably wasn't made by a very strong sorcerer. So, for just one time—"
He looked bitterly at the ring, which was too small, then at his knobby finger, which looked swollen by comparison.
"This won't fit my finger, so I can't be the owner of the ring. How about you?"
"If you can't wear it, Azalie, there's no way I can. I think it'd have to be a child's finger. They might've created it so that their child could wander around without worrying about getting hit by carriages or something."
"That's not a bad guess. If that's the case, the ring might work without having to recite the words, as long as you're the holder of the ring. Let's let a little monkey try it on next time, shall we? By the way..."
She suddenly straightened her face and continued.
"Later, after you eat, will you come to my room? I want to try an experiment with the same type of magic as this ring, and I'd like to avoid telling the elders. It's completely unexplored territory for me, so I'll need my assistant."
"Oh, of course."
Krylancelo accepted lightheartedly. Azalie looked at him with a satisfied smile.
To tell the truth, that was the last time he ever saw the Demon Witch smile.
"That black sorcerer really pisses me off!"
Vulcan was ranting loudly in the large library that was located in central Totokanta, oblivious to the stern gaze from the librarian.
(You're always mad about that.)
Muttering under his breath, Dortin flipped through the pages of the book in his hand. It was a facsimile of the ancient ones, a kind of old-script dictionary. In short, they'd come there to find out what the word Baldanders meant, as Orphen had suggested.
And—
With a bang, Vulcan closed the book in Dortin's hand. After putting his glasses back on, Dortin looked up at him.
"I'm sorry, I can't take this anymore. My patience is wearing thin."
"What are you doing?"
"Don't you care about this injustice? Hey!"
Vulcan karate chopped him in the head (because, of course, he couldn't enter the library with his sword.)
"Listen, Dortin. That black-magic sorcerer is doing all the hard work for those people, and he's back in that mansion without a care in the world."
"He's a very strong sorcerer these days, and he's been using a lot of strong magic recently."
"... Magic is very exhausting, isn't it?"
Vulcan's voice took on a more thug-like tone as he slammed the desk down with a thud.
"I see. You're becoming that sorcerer's lapdog, aren't you?"
"I didn't say that, I just..."
"No! I can tell by the look in your eyes. You've always been the type of guy to forget his pride for the sake of his immediate well-being."
"You're my brother, and you've only ever teased me. Even right in front of them."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Vulcan shouted at Dortin and flipped the desk in front of him in one fell swoop. The edge of the desk collided with the bookcase on the other side. At the same time, the shelves directly behind Dortin started falling towards him. Crushed by the avalanche of books, Dortin could only flail and struggle. Screams rose up from the few people in the library.
"What the hell are you doing!?"
The librarian rushed towards them, furious. Looking up through a gap in the books, Dortin breathed a sigh of relief that he'd soon be rescued. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the page of the book still sitting open.
Dortin let out a gasp.
"I got it! Here it is!"
"Always — Something — Else?"
Orphen repeated Dortin's words, who stood in front of him, looking up. The room was assigned to Orphen and his team at the Everlasting home. It was located close to the entrance hall and could be quickly accessed from the garden.
Dortin nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes. In a very old language, Baldanders means "Always Something Else." It was represented by an emblem of the moon. It's a magical seal."
"Hmm..."
Orphen looked around the room thoughtfully. Dortin was looking up at him, as if expecting a reply. Vulcan was glaring angrily out the window, but it didn't matter. Orphen snapped his fingers and turned to Dortin.
"If that's the case, maybe the sword has some kind of transforming magic in it. As I recall, Azalie's last failed attempt at magic also mentioned a 'sword'..."
"So you're saying that this person transformed because of the Sword of Baldanders?"
"That's a reasonable answer. I've heard that the Sword must've been sealed somewhere by Childman himself. I don't know why it'd be here in this mansion..."
As Orphen mumbled, slowly coming to realize that this didn't add up, there were three knocks at the door. He knew immediately who it was from their knocking habits.
"Come in, Cleao."
Cleao walked through the door, surprised, and wearing riding pants instead of her usual one-piece dress. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a bun. She looked good, but the mere sight of this outfit made Orphen shake his head.
"Don't say a word, I'll tell you the answer first. The answer is no. Get redressed and go to sleep."
"Why the hell not?"
Cleao's mouth dropped open, before she started grumbling. She continued, adjusting her mismatched white gloves.
"I can help, too, and I have my mother's permission."
"Tishtinee?"
He asked doubtfully, but Cleao seemed at ease.
"Yes. I'm not going to get in your way. My sister told me not to get in the way, and asked me to protect you, too."
"............?"
Orphen wondered what he could say to convince the women of the house, but wasn't so sure he could.
"If this was a duck hunt or a boar hunt or something, I'd be happy to take you along, but do you understand what's going to happen tonight?"
"Of course I do."
"No, you don't. I could be a corpse by the end of the night, or worse, a murderer."
"You're a powerful sorcerer, and you said you can't kill people. If that's the case, nobody should end up dead."
"That's the theory."
Orphen sighed and glared at the girl, who looked so comfortable that he thought she might be a better shelf ornament.
However, Cleao never seemed to back down.
"Besides, you need proper support, don't you? You can't handle two men at once."
"If I needed a partner, I could've gone to some back alley and found someone good enough to hire."
"But you didn't do that. You were going to ask a friend of yours in the Damsel's Orisons to help you, but it didn't work out. Since that didn't work out, I'll take their place."
Orphen gave the determined girl a pained look. Cleao folded her arms, glaring back at him without her usual peppy expression. Apparently, her daytime sword fight against the Black Tiger had given her a strange sense of confidence — Orphen sighed in frustration. At this point, telling her to get a glass of milk and go to bed wouldn't be enough to convince her — After all, she was no longer interested in listening to him. Orphen was ready to give up, and finally, just asked.
"Okay, what do you have?"
"What do I have?"
Cleao's face lit up when she realized that he was agreeing to let her help. She even looked like she was about to jump up and hug him, but she didn't. She turned around and came back into the room with a slender long sword that had apparently been hanging in the hallway.
"Here it is."
Cleao said, pulling the slender blade out of its scabbard and holding it up to the light of the gas lamps that were hanging from the ceiling. It was a silver, unadorned weapon, perfect for the girl herself. It was single-edged, with a slightly warped blade.
"Is that the one you use at the club?"
Cleao nodded happily as Orphen asked.
"I'd usually have it in the scabbard, but today I left it off."
"Unless you want to inadvertently end up a murderer, you'll need to put it in the scabbard again. And don't use that sword, you might want to get an older one. It's bound to break eventually."
"That's not true."
Cleao frowned and returned the sword to its scabbard as she hugged it.
Orphen stared at his watch. It was a little after one o'clock in the morning, and Cleao was lying on the sofa. Vulcan and Dortin were also snoozing. He could have woken them up, but Orphen decided to leave them be. He knew that he was the only one who could settle the score with those two sorcerers.
(Childman...)
— Why did you show up here, of all places?
Orphen thought under the weakly flickering light of the gas lamp.
(First Azalie appeared, then you followed right after her. The Sword of Baldanders was here in this mansion all along. The ancient magic that made Azalie look like that. You want it.)
No — Orphen shook his head. It was Azalie who wanted the sword. She probably thought the same thing that he did, that if she was transformed into that thing by the Sword of Baldanders, she should be able to use that same magic to return to her original form.
If that were the case, then it was Azalie who came to the mansion in search of the Sword, and Childman who followed her here. If so, though, why was Childman chasing after Azalie?
(Not to turn her back. He told me it was impossible to restore her.)
If that were the case...
(To destroy her.)
A decisive failure in the art of magic would have marred the historic reputation of the Tower of Fang. The Tower's elders first erased all records of Azalie. All that was left now, was Azalie herself.
(I won't let that happen.)
Orphen stared into the void and murmured aloud, as if to confirm it to himself.
"I won't let you kill her. If she truly can't be restored to her original form, then I'll protect her. If she can be restored, I will do it. And... if it comes down to it, Childman, I will kill you."
Orphen got up from his chair without making a sound. He looked again at the loudly-snoring Vulcan, Dortin, and Cleao, who seemed to be entangled on the sofa. He then turned his gaze to the void.
In the dim light of the room, Orphen stood still. He suddenly realized something, without any real reason to feel that way.
(They're coming...)
He didn't know who was coming. A headwind, a hint of urgency, was pressing against his forehead.
Slowly, Orphen pushed open the door to the hallway. The hallway was deep, and when he looked up, he could see that the nearest gas lamp had gone out.
Just as he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him, a roar echoed through the mansion, so loud he could feel the vibrations in the floor, as if once more, something had struck the building.
It wasn't Childman's style to make a scene while attacking. So, it was Azalie.
Orphen had a hunch, and ran into the courtyard where he'd heard the sound. The outer edges of the courtyard were glowing red with the sparks of fires that were scattered all over the place, making it even brighter than inside. The sound of exploding flames surged from every which direction like a booming applause. In the haze of the transparent smoke, there was a gigantic, oddly shaped figure that was pounding a mass of flames into the ground at the center of the courtyard.
"Azalie!"
Orphen shouted, but Azalie didn't seem to hear him, perhaps drowned out by the roar of the flames.
She stood upright, shooting magical fire at the ground, making her figure appear as a giant triangular silhouette in the flames — Orphen tried to run towards her, but the fire raging throughout the courtyard made it difficult for him to get close.
Even if he could, Azalie was screaming and gouging the ground with tremendous force.
(That basement — The center of the underground warehouse should be right there somewhere.)
Did Azalie know the layout of the house?
There was no time to ponder that, though. Orphen cast a low incantation, forming barriers around him, and slowly managed to creep closer and closer to Azalie. She shot another burst of fire, sending clumps of the earth flying in all directions.
"Damn!"
Orphen exclaimed, narrowly dodging a slightly flaming chunk of stone.
"Azalie! It's me! Don't you understand?"
At that moment — there was another roar. A dull thud shook the ground. Instantly, the ground beneath Azalie's feet caved in, swallowing her into the depths — the ground had collapsed, and everything there sank into the underground warehouse.
"Damn—"
Orphen cursed as she fell, stuck in place from the vibrations. The courtyard had almost completely collapsed, and Azalie was nowhere to be found in the underground warehouse. The only sound was the muffled roar of her voice, chanting in harmony with the sound of the flames that burned through the trees and completely surrounded the area.
"Kyaaaahh!"
A sudden scream behind him caused him to look back and see Cleao trapped in the midst of the flames. The commotion had indeed awoken her. He looked closer and saw that she was accompanied by Vulcan and Dortin.
Orphen clicked his tongue, spread his arms, and screamed.
"I restrain, the dancing shrew!"
With a whoosh, the raging fire suddenly died out. Darkness fell over the courtyard, and only the faintest starlight reached the ground like a thin white silk. Beneath the sunken earth, Azalie seemed to be moving around, and the vibrations hadn't yet subsided. For a moment, Orphen almost jumped into the hole himself, but instead he ran back to Cleao.
"Are you hurt?"
Cleao shook her head.
"I'm fine. I told my mother and the others to escape through the back door. I helped, right?"
"Yeah."
Orphen nodded and turned back to the sinkhole, through which the tip of Azalie's venomous tail peeked out. He heard Cleao mutter as she watched Azalie twirl around like a mortally wounded snake.
"Is that — the monster?"
"Yes."
Orphen said and braced himself for the hole. It would be suicide to jump into the warehouse while Azalie was rampaging around in such a huge body, but if he missed her when she climbed out, he didn't know where in the world he might find her again. He couldn't let her get away.
Vulcan was drawing his sword. He hid behind his brother. Cleao drew her sword with some degree of grace as well.
Orphen held his hand out to stop her.
"No. This is beyond your control."
As expected, Cleao didn't argue, but she twisted around to face him and asked.
"What do you mean? Aren't those assassins coming tonight?"
"They'll be here too. This so-called delivery is going to be a mess."
"Then—"
"Shhh."
Orphen stopped the girl. Azalie's movements in the underground warehouse had also stopped.
(............)
He ignored Cleao, who gave him an uneasy look, and amplified the magic of his own body. He imagined a cage — something to trap that huge body of hers — or possibly even a net, while carefully watching the crack in the ground — but the hole in the ground fell silent.
The night wind picked up a plume of burning smoke.
— Fussshhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! —
It literally sounded that way. Azalie's cry soared into the night sky as if it were pushing its way up from within the pit.
(—!)
At the same time, an updraft arose throughout the entire courtyard, like a tornado forming right on top of them. It bore uncanny power. Wind so strong that it seemed to peel off a thin layer of the ground across the yard, and soared into the sky above. Orphen suddenly realized that Cleao and the dwarf brothers had been blown several meters into the air and he hadn't even noticed.
(Azalie's magic, damn it—)
Orphen cursed as he stomped the ground to keep himself from being knocked off his feet as well.
(Even if I fight her with magic, there's no way I can win!)
But he couldn't not do it. He focused his previously amplified magic energy to its limit, clasping his hands together in front of his eyes as if in prayer, and shouted.
"Place your child, within my arms!"
The moment he shouted, he felt a special sort of 'Power' consume a part of him, as if it were caught by a fishhook and ripped right out of his body. Orphen gently lowered them to the ground, where they would've otherwise fallen to their deaths if left alone.
At the same time, the tornado also dispersed
However, he was more exhausted now than he ever could've imagined. Sweat was pouring from his entire body, and his fingertips were weak. His knees were shaking as if he'd lost all equilibrium, and his internal organs ached. It was as if he'd just gone through a level of exertion too much for his body to take, in just a single instant.
Orphen fell straight to his knees on the ground. He knew he had to build his strength for the next spell, but he just couldn't do it.
(The power — I just can't pull it together. I need time... but — how can I be this... drained—?)
He was gasping for air in desperation. Cleao came running to where he'd fallen.
"What's wrong?"
When he heard the girl's concerned tone of voice, he forced himself to smile as he looked up at her.
"I'm fine. It's just that I've used some serious magic."
"Are you out of breath?"
"Yeah, that's what I mean. Sorry but... can you give me a hand?"
The first thing he did was get to his feet with Cleao's help, then he tried to look for the dwarves — he didn't want to ask them for help, but he still wanted to make sure they were okay. He looked from side to side, then ahead, and stopped.
Somewhere up ahead, Vulcan and Dortin had also stopped moving, both of their backs to him.
Azalie hadn't yet jumped out of the hole. However, half of her body was exposed above the ground.
"Hey, isn't it getting bigger, that monster...?"
Vulcan murmured in a tone of disbelief.
Indeed. Azalie had grown to gigantic proportions — though it was hard to tell since half of her body was underground, he guessed that she was five to six meters long. Orphen groaned in disbelief.
"Damn — I knew she was good, but..."
"What's wrong?"
Cleao asked. Orphen replied, sounding like he wanted to vomit.
"She forced me to use my magic, then absorbed it. That's why I'm so drained."
"Absorbed it?"
Cleao murmured, then looked at Azalie with a fearful look on her face.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. I'm just lucky I didn't die from the power drain."
As if to drown out Orphen's mutterings, the gigantic Azalie shot into the air. She seemed to be trying to fly, but was unable to move. Her body was stuck in the ground. After about two or three tries, Azalie's huge body started to gradually rise from the ground. Vulcan and Dortin screamed and came rushing back to them. Vulcan had lost his sword, and Dortin his glasses.
"W-what the hell do you mean by that, you lousy sorcerer!"
Vulcan shouted, half-crying as he approached.
"You made a mistake, and now that monster has turned into a giant! Do something! Do something about it, or I'll measure you with a protractor and kill you!"
He was disoriented, perhaps even incoherent.
Cleao, who was supporting Orphen's wobbly body, argued with Vulcan on his behalf.
"Hang on! Orphen used his magic to save us! You can't talk to him like that!"
"What are you talking about? Professionals are only as good as the results they get!"
"Oh some professional you are! You dropped your weapon who knows where!"
"As if that matters! My sword won't do any good against a monster like that!"
"Is that the attitude of a professional?"
"Shush!"
Orphen sharply brought a stop to their argument. He jerked away, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He was sure he'd heard something.
"Light!"
"A spell!"
Orphen shouted, pulling Cleao down to the ground. At the same time, a white light illuminated from the area and Azalie screamed.
Orphen sat up, horrified. Cleao was lying under him, yelling and cursing, but it couldn't be helped at the moment. A band of light shot in from somewhere, racing through the air like an arrow until it pierced one of Azalie's wings, which were extended into the night sky, forming a blackened V shape. At the same time, the wing burst into flames — Fwoo, the night air was blown back by the burning winds.
Again, the spell echoed around them.
"Light!"
(He's on the roof!)
Orphen placed the source of the voice and looked up, seeing them backlit against the night sky. The light fired at Azalie over and over again, and each time, she let out a scream.
There were two figures on the roof. One was a tall man, the other was shorter, but he could tell it was still a man. Orphen called out.
"Childman!"
But the man ignored his call and held his left arm out towards Azalie, then shouted once more.
"Light!"
The arrow of light struck Azalie's body once more, scattering the smell of burning flesh, or perhaps even pieces of flesh itself, all around her. Orphen raised his hand into the air after seeing something liquid fall at his feet.
"Stop—!"
With that cry, a huge torrent of light hit the two on the roof, right at their feet. Orphen's deadly photothermal wave shot into the night sky like a river washing away the sediment. After the light had passed, he looked up again and saw that they had both vanished from the roof.
(They're gone — Are they dead...?)
Orphen looked down at his hands in horror. His fingertips were trembling.
But right behind him, he heard something jump down with a thud. He whipped around in a panic and saw the two men who'd been standing on the roof only a moment before.
"Who are they—?"
Cleao groaned as she got to her feet. He had her hand on her sword, but hadn't pulled it from its scabbard yet.
Don't do it, Orphen thought to himself. If she did, she might be killed.
When he snapped back to attention, Orphen found himself facing the two black magic sorcerers, with a wounded Azalie behind him.
One of those sorcerers was Childman — the cool-headed face he'd seen under the mask a few days before wasn't so different from the one he'd recalled in his recollections several times before. His unusually sharp eyes pierced the darkness of the night with such severity that, to paraphrase Vulcan, he could've been killed with that glare alone. The cold, glassy gaze was intimidating enough on its own without the emotionless mouth that stretched from one side to the other, and the cheeks that didn't twitch or flinch no matter what happened to him.
The other one, by contrast, was looking at him awkwardly. His fine red hair was drifting in the night breeze, and his normally charming eyes were now dark and overshadowed.
"Hartia."
Orphen murmured, and the young black magic sorcerer took a half-step back and opened his mouth apologetically.
"Krylancelo, I'm really sorry — but I had to do it, what went on earlier today. You..."
He glanced at his master beside him.
"If only you'd come a few days earlier..."
"It doesn't matter. I could tell you were forcing yourself to feign anger. Right, Black Tiger?"
"... You knew?"
Hartia looked surprised. Orphen smiled wanly.
"When I thought about it, you were the only person on the whole continent who'd think to wear such a stupid disguise."
Cleao looked at him and Hartia with a puzzled look on her face. She just couldn't connect the man she had crossed blades with, who had tried to cut her down, with the handsome young man standing in front of her now. Then—
Orphen's expressions tightened as he looked Childman right in the eye.
Even so, it was Childman who spoke first.
"Move aside, Krylancelo."
"... I refuse."
"Krylancelo!"
Hartia shouted from the side.
"Krylancelo, look, this is a decision made not only by the Tower of Fang, but the Damsel's Orisons itself."
"To kill Azalie?"
Orphen uttered bitterly, and Childman simply replied.
"... Yes."
"If you insist..."
Orphen moved to Cleao's side and continued.
"You'll have to kill me first, but I won't be a free kill."
"You have very little strength left."
"There's still something I can do."
Orphen muttered, and stepped back a little. He reached his left hand out to Vulcan, who was still lying on the ground, carefully, so that Childman and the others couldn't see.
A moment later, Orphen unleashed his demonic power.
"Leap!"
The air vibrated with a BOOM! Vulcan, curled into a ball as if wrapped by the wings of the wind, was blown toward Childman and Hartia with the force of a cannonball. Both of them seemed to have read the attack and dodged it without any difficulty, but for a moment they lost their stance, exposing an opening.
Orphen continued to shout.
"I release you—"
But at that moment, he was dragged down from behind. He looked back to see Dortin and Cleao together, clinging to his waist.
"What are you doing—"
Orphen realized he was about to scream at them. Azalie, who was behind them, was now staring at him. For a moment, Orphen couldn't make out what she was doing, but then, suddenly, an image flashed in his mind.
She was breathing in an out. Breathing in, to cast a spell.
Cleao and the others must've noticed and pushed him to the ground. If he had been preoccupied with fighting Childman, he would've easily been caught by her spell.
"Damn—"
Orphen put his hands on Cleao and Dortin's shoulders, and with all of his remaining strength, he shouted the incantation.
"I spin, the armor of our halo!"
At the same time, Azalie let out a deafening roar.
A single color of fire filled the area.
When he woke up again, it was dawn.
In fact, it was almost noon. The sunlight coming in through the window was high, and Cleao (who had let down her hair and retired to her normal outfit), Tishtinee, Vulcan, and Dortin, were all crowded around the bed he was lying in. Only Vulcan looked sooty and burnt — Come to think of it, Vulcan wasn't protected by the effects of his defensive magic.
When he opened his mouth, he ignored him, because he already knew what he was going to say. However, he still listened for a long time, clearly remembering the part where Tishtinee interrupted him from the side.
"—You !#$☆◎&^ bastard! You better get a grip or I'll brush you to death with my toothbrush!"
"... Well, Orphen is exhausted, too..."
"But—"
Cleao was the first person to silence his attempt at a rebuke. She snatched the dwarf's cloak from behind and dragged him out of the room, almost hanging him in the process. Dortin followed them out.
With Tishtinee alone with him in the room, Orphen finally asked the questions he wanted to know.
"... What happened after all that?"
"I saw a lot of people from the Damsel's Orisons come in, and they're now looking for something in the underground warehouse."
"... What about Childman?"
"I think there's someone named Childman still walking around the warehouse."
"I see..."
Orphen put his right hand over his eyes and sighed deeply.
(After everything, I guess I was just running my mouth. I couldn't do anything about it...)
Although he wasn't crying, Tishtinee seemed to understand. She never spoke to him again after that.
Table of Contents
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| (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) |
Business Day Call of Reminiscence The Revenge of Shrimp Man Baldanders 'Hunting' Night Demon Witch |