"Beast, Answer My Call!" V1 Chapter 5 - "Hunting" Night
"After going through that mansion's storage room, there was no sword with a moon crest to be found — the monster must have taken it last night."
Childman's explanation was brief and curt.
For five years now, he and only a few of his men had been chasing the monster. He knew why. He was going to hunt it.
"Are you going to wipe her from the face of the planet?"
Orphen mumbled, and he answered without a twitch of that same stern expression on his face.
"She died five years ago. I'm only hunting the monster that remains."
"But that monster is her."
Orphen stood up, kicking the shaky leather chair away from him, every word tinged with venom. The poor lighting was cool, darkening the already dimly-lit room. It was a secluded room in the Sorcerer Alliance branch. A small room with nothing but the chair Orphen had been sitting in, a small table, and a pitcher with a few cups on a tray. It wasn't even a conference room because there was only one chair. In the room, Orphen glanced at Childman and Hartia, who stood side by side, facing him.
"Do you really believe that, Krylancelo?"
Hartia asked, his face darkening with worry. He held his arms out and continued.
"That... thing, is that what she looks like now? It doesn't even have conscious thought, you know that, right? Just a few faint memories, running on instinct."
"Faint memories and instincts?"
Orphen asked, but it was Childman who answered.
"It remembers the Sword of Baldanders, and has the instinctive urge to return to its original form. The Sword is why the creature came to the Everlasting residence."
"... Why was the Sword in that house, after you supposedly sealed it away?"
"Because I sealed it in that house."
Orphen stared back at him with a puzzled look, not understanding what he was talking about. Childman folded his arms and parted his dry lips.
"I used to be employed by the previous owner of the house — Tishtinee's late husband, Ekintora Everlasting. As... a private assassin."
Childman's face remained impassive, and he made his next statement plainly.
"He and I also used to be friends. I often entrusted him with things that were deemed too dangerous to leave in the Tower, because no matter how dangerous they were, they were harmless if they weren't in the hands of someone who practiced magic."
Orphen remembered the ring that Cleao had given up, and asked in a sarcastic tone.
"So you've also shoved all of Azalie's belongings in that warehouse. The Sword, and everything else."
"The Sword originally belonged to the Tower, but Azalie took it without permission. However, after her failure, the Sword of Baldanders was designated a forbidden magic. Aside from the name Baldanders, she was also the only one who succeeded in deciphering the spell written on the Sword. It was also she who declared the Sword's magic to be a failure."
"... She was your student. You raised her."
Orphen gritted his teeth, but Childman just looked back at him coldly. He spoke in a stern tone that made Orphen uncomfortable.
"She swore allegiance to this organization, and she died defying them."
"She's not dead yet."
"On that point, I'm afraid our opinions differ."
Childman's amber eyes were fixed on him, like a lizard sitting still in the dark. Orphen, unable to move despite his defiance, remained frozen in the gaze of what seemed like the Beast King of the Sands. He couldn't even tremble with fear, and stood still as a corpse waiting to be devoured by the enormous beast.
(What is the secret of his power?)
Orphen asked himself.
(Is it that he always keeps his cool? Is it his saintly devotion, his willingness to sacrifice for the sake of discipline? Whatever it is, I can't even begin to emulate his power...)
Orphen had never beaten his teacher before — or, rather, hadn't even come close to knocking him off of his feet. If Azalie had been the first genius since the rise of the Tower, then Childman could be said to be the first and the last great genius. Childman of the Tower of Fang was truly a master of the art. It was no coincidence or delusion that the retinue of organizations across the continent feared this young man, who had only just turned 30. Nor was it an exaggeration.
Childman turned his head to the side and spoke as he aimlessly walked through the room.
"I've been chasing that monster for a long time... but it's a tough opponent. It can still use magic, and with great skill. It also acquired a strong body and a great deal of stamina, a beast that knows no fatigue. I'm the only person left of the pursuit team. All of the others have been killed."
"If she had any sense left in her, she wouldn't have done something like this. From what I've heard, all of the bodies were so aggressively mutilated that they bore no resemblance to their original form."
Hartia said from the side, but Orphen ignored him.
"You're better than her at magic though, aren't you, Childman?"
Childman stopped. He didn't look back, but he answered.
"When it comes to black magic, yes. But she has a trump card."
"... White magic."
Orphen muttered. Hartia nodded in awe.
Childman continued in a tone of voice that sounded more like a lecture.
"A white magic sorcerer has the ability to manipulate time as well as the mind. It may seem unassuming at first glance, but it's a very powerful ability. Some say that White Magic is True Magic. Compared to that highly refined power, ours is nothing."
He lightly waved his hand.
"It's child's play to them. Just hearing the voice of a mumbling white-magic sorcerer can be enough to make you lose your will to fight. Hearing the utterance of a single chant may cause you to flee in fear of the fiercest terrors, and a scream could drive you insane."
Childman turned to face him and brought his shaking hands to his temples, stroking the edge of his own hair.
"Or you might suddenly pass out, fall asleep, start laughing, or even just simply die. You could become someone else, or you may never move or feel anything ever again."
"... What are you saying, Childman? It's not like you to be so indirect."
Orphen frowned as he asked. Childman answered.
"In short, to fight a white-magic sorcerer, you need as many sorcerers as possible, and skilled black-magic soldiers with honed combat capabilities."
"...Are you asking me to be a part of the mission to destroy her?"
Orphen gritted his teeth and approached Childman, but his cool-headed master was completely unmoved.
"I won't force you to do anything, but I would be very grateful if you would lend me a hand."
"I refuse."
"Krylancelo! This is..."
Hartia's voice was filled with desperate emotion, and Orphen turned to him. His red-haired friend bit his lip, finding the words to continue.
"This means... your redemption. If you help us with this task, it will redeem your crime of running away from the Tower, right? I mean, you were looking for Azalie."
"I was looking for her, all right, but not to kill her."
"Krylancelo, I'm in on this, too. If I find her, or that monster, and get the Sword back, I may be able to get a higher position in a higher department. I may even be able to return to the Tower of Fang as a teacher's assistant."
Orphen felt nauseated, and spat out his response.
"Do as you please. I don't care how you get ahead."
"That's not what I'm saying! What I'm trying to convey to you is just how seriously the Tower of Fang is taking this situation. A sorcerer who was once the best of the best has lost her mind, gained immense power, and run away with a forbidden magical artifact. If this becomes public knowledge, the Tower will lose its authority — not just that, its public image will be tarnished. This year, the Tower has given four sorcerers to the court — but if this becomes known, who knows what will happen next. You said it yourself, you know. That the Tower isn't some place you can enter unless you're prepared to die. That's how much determination the prospective sorcerers of the Tower study with. However, if the Tower loses its authority and prestige, their hopes will be dashed for nothing."
"Or maybe just your hopes as a sorcerer from the Tower."
Hartia swallowed back and continued.
"Yes. My hope, as well. I'm not going to end up trapped here as some servant. But you're not going to end up here as just some janitor, are you?"
"The only thing I hope for is—"
Orphen was about to say, when suddenly, in a gap in the conversation, he was interrupted by Childman's presence, who'd been listening attentively — he broke off and turned to Childman at the same time as Hartia, but it wasn't that Childman was doing anything in particular. He was just looking at them.
Their master suddenly spoke up.
"You should both refrain from such pointless arguments. Krylancelo, this is a simple matter. Tonight we will go out with a squad to destroy the monster. That squad will include a number of black-magic sorcerers from the Tower of Fang."
"... How do you know where she is?"
"While you were here at this branch, I snuck into the warehouse of the Everlasting residence and found the Sword. At that time, I placed a type of tracking spell on the Sword of Baldanders so that it could be traced even if it moved a great distance."
"... You're always one step ahead, aren't you?"
"I can't do my job otherwise, but that doesn't matter. The monster will be destroyed by the end of the night. The only way for you to see that monster — her — again, is to participate in this operation. If you participate, you'll have to follow my orders. The rest is up to you — whether you want to follow me or not."
"............"
Orphen glared at Childman, a contemplative look on his face — Childman, as usual, wasn't about to let go of his cold mask.
No, Orphen thought sarcastically. That's not a mask. That may actually be his real face.
"... When do we leave?"
Orphen asked. Childman didn't nod or laugh, but his eyes twinkled with amusement, as if he were somewhat entertained by his response.
He quietly replied.
"We'll leave before dusk, as soon as the troops are assembled. You should be ready by then. We'll provide you with weapons and food."
"Tonight? Then we'd better get ready quickly!"
Cleao jumped up and shouted as soon as she heard him say the words. She was about to run out of the room, saying it would take her about an hour to do her hair by herself, and that it'd be bad for her skin if she had to stay up all night two nights in a row, when Orphen spoke up with a sigh.
"You're staying in this mansion."
Cleao turned around when she heard that, her face utterly shocked, as if Orphen had suddenly become the worst traitor the world had ever seen. Waving his finger in a tch tch tch motion, Vulcan looked up at the girl.
"That's what I'm saying. You want professionals like us to take care of this kind of thing."
"You too, scumbag."
"What?"
Ignoring Vulcan, who froze in that same posture with his finger raised, Orphen turned to Dortin, who was standing next to his brother.
"You too. I'm the only one on the hunt tonight."
"But it's dangerous!"
Cleao rushed back and jabbed Orphen in the chest.
"I could tell that those guys from the Damsel's Orisons who came to the mansion today regarded you as an enemy, Orphen. They might stab you in the back while you're 'hunting' with them."
"Sorcerers aren't the type of people to do something like that, especially when they actually need help. In all actuality, until now, I've been an obstacle to their plans, so we've only been at odds."
Orphen mumbled gloomily as he spread his hands out, as if that were the end of it.
"I'm going to join those guys and their little squad trying to kill Azalie — acting under Childman's command. To be clear, given the size of the force, Azalie has no chance of winning. She'll be destroyed tonight. However—"
Orphen looked out the window. The courtyard, now a ragged, burnt-out ruin, stood miserably in the afternoon light.
"I'm going to outsmart them. I'll find a way to protect her, somehow. If I can, I'll take her with me and escape out of Childman's reach. Well, hopefully I manage to do that, but regardless of if I succeed or I fail, I'll never return to this residence again. I'm sorry about that — I was going to give the garden a proper makeover, but it doesn't look like I'll have time for that."
By the time Childman and a few other black-magic sorcerers had entered the canyon, it was already nightfall. When Orphen asked if it wasn't more dangerous at night, Childman had simply given a curt response.
"The situation is urgent."
"I find it hard to believe that you can't wait even half a day."
Orphen answered sarcastically, but Childman seemed to take him at face value.
"You're right."
Orphen gave up on saying anything else and looked at the troops who were hurrying somewhat quickly through the canyon — A few kilometers west of Totokanta, at the foot of the Aiden Mountains, it was a fairly open area with a decent wagon road. There were a few small villages here and there on the map, but they weren't allowed to go near any of them because their mission was top-secret.
The unit was, as Childman had said, a large one.
First, Childman was in the lead, with Orphen right behind him — this was simply a result of Childman's assessment of Orphen's abilities. Then followed six black-magic sorcerers, including Hartia. All were similarly dressed, with black cloaks like those worn by the staff of a secret religion. Orphen also carried a sword at his waist, but they all carried infantry spears about two meters long. Among them were faces Orphen recognized from some point or another, but he didn't feel like talking to any of them. Perhaps they all felt the same way. Even Hartia made an effort to avoid eye contact with him.
Behind the group of 8, there was an old man who looked about 60 years old, alone and unaffiliated. Although he was elderly, he seemed to be strong, physically, and was walking down the canyon without lagging behind the younger black-magic sorcerers. He had gray hair with a hint of white, and didn't have a beard. His normally mild-mannered, wrinkled cheeks were now hardened. On his chest, instead of the dragon and sword emblem, he bore a pendant of a sailing ship with a giant set of dice on it — the mark of a white-magic sorcerer.
For such a large number of sorcerers to work together in a joint operation required the king's approval, which must've meant this was a technically illegal operation. White-magic sorcerers, in particular, were usually kept in a secret citadel that only the royal family and a few high-ranking sorcerers knew the location of, almost as if they were locked up. If he had brought one of them here, then Childman's ability must be comparable to that of the Thirteen Apostles, the highest ranks of sorcerers.
Orphen quietly asked Childman.
"... Can that white magic sorcerer block Azalie's magic?"
"Possibly."
Childman replied, as cruel as ever.
"I only brought him in the hope that it might be possible. Just because you're a white magic sorcerer doesn't mean you can block white magic. It's like trying to catch an oncoming knife with the edge of your own knife."
"... So you gathered this many people with the intention of sacrificing them from the beginning, right? You don't care if a few people die in the first attack on Azalie, as long as one of us survives to blow her brains out."
"They all know that."
Orphen pondered that for a moment, then asked.
"Who's going to lead the attack on Azalie?"
"You are. You're the youngest, strongest, and although you're a bit raw, you're the most capable of launching a real attack in this unit. And—"
Childman said in a rare, joking tone.
"—And with you, even if you die, there's no need to write an apology letter."
"— Why does he have to do shit like this, that son of a bitch — Damn, I'm going to sharpen him to death with a rusty knife!"
He heard Vulcan cursing at the saw grass that was leaving scratches on his shins. Whack, whack— Vulcan cut the weeds under his feet and the roots of overgrown trees with a machete. Dortin followed along while his brother, who was leading the way, complained endlessly.
"You're the one who started this, aren't you, Brother?"
Dortin muttered quietly as he walked after his brother. He was in charge of holding the portable gaslight that cast a whitish glow around them.
"Yeah."
Cleao added, following behind Dortin. She was dressed in light riding clothes and carried a sword. She continued to follow along the small path that Vulcan had blazed with his machete.
"I came here because you said you had a way to help Orphen. Did the sorcerers really come out this way?"
"Don't be so suspicious of professional information!"
He snapped back, but still, he wouldn't look at her.
"A friend of mine, who oversees all information being exchanged in the shadows of Totokanta, told me what the Damsel's Orisons is up to."
"Isn't that bogus? Who's this friend of yours, anyway?"
Vulcan, suddenly flustered, didn't answer.
Dortin, seeing that the girl was about to draw her sword in anger, shouted in a panic.
"Hey, no violence!"
"It's not violence. A knight's sword is always just!"
Cleao answered in a dignified tone, drawing her sword. At the same time, Vulcan stopped and turned around. With Dortin between him and the girl, he didn't bother to run away, but threw his machete aside and drew his own sword.
"Knight? Since when did the Everlastings become nobles? I'll kill you with a pencil sharpener if you keep talking like that!"
"You'll be the one getting killed!"
Cleao shouted with an indignant snort.
Dortin, caught in the middle, looked at the two of them with a wary look on his face. He knew taking sides with either of them wouldn't end well for him later. If he took his brother's side, Cleao would beat them both right then and there, but if he took Cleao's side, he'd have to endure the persistent torment of his brother for the next few weeks.
"A-Anyway—"
Dortin spread his arms out between them.
"Let's all calm down! Put your swords away. You seem awfully confident today. Is that a book under your clothes? Oh, it's not my book, is it? Is it from the library in the Everlasting residence? Either way it's fine — Miss Cleao has something under her clothes, too, doesn't she? What? Oh, you mean on her chest — Wait, sorry. It just, it looks a little—"
At any rate, the arbitration didn't seem to be helping, and the expressions on Cleao and Vulcan's faces were becoming even more grim. Dortin fumed.
"And you, brother, don't look so scared, let's all get along. We've been walking along this depressing mountain path for a while now, and I don't want us to be fighting, okay? I'm getting kind of sick of being with you—Wait, no, I mean, uhh, that's not what I—It's just, this would make me feel better—No—Not that my brother's a bad guy or anything—"
But Dortin's persuasions were in vain, as the two of them raised their weapons in unison — and simultaneously aimed them down at Dortin. Both swords struck him right in the head, and blood spurted up as Dortin cried out.
"Why the hell did you hit me!?"
"Shut up!"
Vulcan yelled, turning his head forward again, and brushed away the snare in the undergrowth. Cleao followed suit, sheathing her sword.
After all three of them had taken a few steps in unison, Cleao spoke up, as if she was still a bit angry.
"Where is this place anyway? My feet hurt."
"According to the map — let's see, that star location is here, so we're halfway up the Aiden Mountains. If the professional information you brought is accurate, we should be somewhere around here."
"How much further?"
Dortin immediately answered the question that Cleao had asked in a disgusted tone of voice.
"About two hours."
"Geez."
"What do you mean 'Geez'? You insisted on coming along even when we didn't invite you."
He said, then turned to Vulcan, who was swinging his machete from side to side as he spoke up.
"We'll find that monster before the sorcerers do, get it out of here, lock it up somewhere, and then we can make a deal with the sorcerer for whatever price we want! It's only a bonus if that loan shark will be exposed. This isn't a game! We can't afford any mistakes!"
"... Even so, the part of your plan where we actually 'pull it off' is nowhere near complete, brother."
"Did you say something Dortin?"
"No, nothing."
Dortin replied, trying to hide his sigh.
"In that case, two more hours..."
Cleao muttered tiredly.
"I was supposed to get an allowance from my sister if I helped out with the work. Maybe I should go home. Oh, but then I'd have to walk back home, huh?"
Saying this, she kicked a pebble by her feet. The pebble arced gently into the air, flying through the night sky.
Dortin thought it strange and asked.
"Why would you get an allowance for helping the black-magic sorcerer, anyway?"
"Huh—? Oh, well, you know—
Just as she was about to explain with a twinkle in her eye, there was a strange noise.
FuuuuuOOOoooOOOoooo.........ShrruuuuUUUrrrruuuuuu—
"............"
The sound — a snort, perhaps — was familiar to all three of them. Cleao, breaking out in a cold sweat, asked Vulcan.
"Hey, that stuff that you were talking about earlier? Yeah, where'd you get that information?"
"No, well — That's uhh—"
Vulcan's face went pale as well.
"I mean — There's an inn called Bagup's Inn tucked in the back of town, and the owner, Bagup, used to be a well-known bandit who eloped with some woman called the Queen of the Underworld, and though he's since washed his hands of the business, he still gathers information as a hobby, so I thought he might know something."
"Don't trust information from that old geezer. What's two hours away? How could he find out this information so fast?"
Cleao was getting angrier, and was about to hit Vulcan on the head.
"Hey, guys..."
Dortin grumbled at the two of them.
"I don't think now is the time to bicker about this."
Before he could finish, a scream echoed through the night sky.
It was surprisingly close by — and not more than five meters away — a huge monster rose out of the grass. It lunged at them with a tremendous roar.
In the confusion, Dortin dropped the gas lamp on the ground. Darkness enveloped the area, and only the faint twinkling of the stars lit up the night in their tranquility.
Two hours later, when the troop took a break, Orphen quietly left the group.
He went slowly, and though it was obvious that he'd be noticed immediately, if he hurried too quickly, he might draw Childman from the others as well.
(I've only got a few minutes at most.)
Soon Childman would notice his absence. How far could he draw them away before then?
Only Childman knew Azalie's exact location — but Orphen noticed that Childman had been moving in a straight line since entering the canyon. Given his haste, it was almost certain that Childman was making a beeline for Azalie. If that were the case, he should be able to make contact with her before Childman, as long as he moved faster in the direction they were moving.
Orphen was hurrying as fast as he could along the canyon, through the deep forest, and wondering how much longer he would have to reach Azalie. The deeper he went, the denser the forest got — that was only natural, though. Of course Azalie would choose the deepest part of the forest if she had to hide.
(Can I outrun Childman?)
Orphen asked himself as he made his way through the woods, almost at a jogging pace.
(I've never beaten that man, have I?)
The thought that he might have done something premature almost engulfed him like a tidal wave of horror, but he managed to get his head above water once more, and shook the thoughts from his mind. With a sword in hand, he cut through the chest-deep undergrowth.
(If I don't get my act together, Azalie's gonna die.)
Shwack... He struck away at the lush knee-high saw grass. It sent a bluish spray into the air, then fell down in heaps. Stepping over it, Orphen swung his sword again.
After what seemed like an hour, he came to a halt. Sweat was already pouring down his body, and he even felt a chill in the night breeze. He wiped the blade of his sword, which was soaked with the juices from the grass, with a cloth and dropped it into the scabbard at his waist.
In the night — He felt once again again the baseless premonition he'd felt 24 hours earlier. He didn't know what it was, he just knew there was something nearby. Orphen closed his eyes. The sweat stung. He wiped his forehead with the palm of his hand, then shook it to throw off the drops of sweat. They struck the leaves nearby in a shower, making a faint noise.
Orphen sighed — maybe it was just his imagination — and looked up, opening his eyes.
It was just a forest, no different from the one he'd just been running through. It seemed greener than before, but that could simply be the effect of the darkness of the night. The black-magic sorcerer, who could see well in the dark due to his training, widened his slanted eyes and surveyed the pitch-black night forest.
Nothing. He saw nothing.
Reason told him that it was foolish to raise his voice in such a place — after all, Childman must be after him, but Orphen screamed with a total lack of sense.
(I've always trusted my instincts.)
"Azaliiieee!"
The end of her name slowly repeated itself as it faded away. The night air that filled the forest returned to silence, and a rustling wind scraped the leaves and branches along the forest ceiling.
Orphen tried to shout again.
"Aza—"
Fwwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
A moment later, an expansion of the air that could only be described as such echoed through the area. It sounded like it was being released from a vacuum in a massive wave. At the same time, a stream of wind blew in from directly in front of Orphen, scattering the leaves on the trees around him — the dust and the scattering leaves, and the ground that had been buried beneath the undergrowth all rose up at once while Orphen shielded his eyes with his arm.
Then, again, the sound came.
— Shhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
(That's — Azalie's call!)
Orphen was instantly jubilant and tried to run ahead — perhaps Azalie had answered his call. If so, she hadn't yet lost her sense of reason.
(No — Don't do that.)
As he ran ahead, Orphen listened to the voice of reason inside of himself.
(That thing was just alerted by the presence of a human being. Even beasts do that. Besides — if we don't do something quick, she might run away.)
Then there'd be no way to pursue her, except through Childman.
"I can't lose!"
Orphen shouted loudly, racing through the trees towards Azalie's roar. He leapt over the tree roots that reached their arms out at his feet with speeds that were nothing short of miraculous.
Then...
For the third time, Azalie's roar shook the night. Instantly, the atmosphere was filled with some form of "power" that seemed to burst forth and explode. For a moment, Orphen thought he'd been engulfed by flames — a feeling he always got when he was caught up in someone else's magic. But Azalie's magic wasn't the kind that burned everything around it, but something much more subtle. Nothing happened until her cry faded away in the darkness of the night. At the same time — suddenly, the earth pulsated and stirred, as if it were the organ of some voracious carnivorous plant, engulfing whatever was close at hand — trees, and even undergrowth. The heel of Orphen's leather boot was even taken in, and he nearly fell to his knees. The roots of the trees and grass were swallowed by the earth and disappeared somewhere underground.
When he looked around in dismay, he saw that the area was completely vacant. It was a few dozen meters in all directions. In the center of it, there was a huge shadow.
(Azalie...)
Orphen stood there staring at the huge beast, sitting on the ground about 10 meters away. Although it was enormous, it had used up all of the magic it had sucked out of Orphen last night, and had returned to its original three-meter height.
The canopy of branches and leaves had been stripped away, and starlight shone down on the vacant lot. The huge, triangular silhouetted beast stared back at him. Its head, looking as if it had been crushed and re-inflated with air, didn't even twitch. A long, thin, sword-like object lied at the beast's feet. It lay listless like a fabled sacrifice to the beast. It had to be the Sword of Baldanders.
Orphen thought, and tried to approach Azalie — the beast didn't even twitch, it just stared at him.
(Why would she have turned the forest into a clearing?)
Orphen asked himself as he cautiously approached her.
(Of course, it was probably to keep an eye out for any pursuers, but if she was going to run and hide, it would make no sense to clear the forest around her — so then...)
By the time Orphen realized what was going on, Azalie was already swinging her head in the motions that preceded her roars, and then with momentum she swung herself up.
(— She made a clearing with the intention to fight!)
—SHHHHAAAaaaaa!
With Azalie's cry, Orphen fled to the side. Countless bullets of light gouged the ground where he'd been standing just moments before. The explosions flared up like shining claw marks. Orphen rolled to the ground and shouted.
"Azalie! It's me! Don't you understand?"
Azalie answered his call with another flare of light. Orphen shouted again as he blocked it with a halo barrier.
"Have you really lost your mind? Azalie!"
The beast, seemingly unconcerned, opened its claws and let out a cry. Countless flashing blades of wind leapt at him with an ear-splitting roar. Orphen thrust his arms forward and shouted.
"At my fingertips, a shield of amber!"
A wall of compressed air blocked the blades, but some of them smashed through the barrier, grazing Orphen's cheek and creating shallow gashes.
(She's going to kill me.)
Aghast, Orphen looked up at the mighty beast that stood there towering over him. He was far from taking her out of Childman's reach — At this rate she was going to kill him herself!
(In the end, the difference in power between us is too great — I can't win.)
While Orphen was irreverent, Azalie screamed even louder. A huge ball of light swelled above her head. It seemed to catch the lightning bolts and curl them into a crumpled ball, electrifying the air around it in an instant. Orphen could feel small pains all over his body — intense static electricity that made his hair stand on end. He could tell just by looking at it how powerful that ball of light that Azalie had created was — if he took that hit, it didn't matter what kind of magic he used to defend himself. He'd be blown away in a single hit!
"I can't escape—"
He closed his eyes in despair.
He remembered the light breaking through the cracks of his closed eyelids—
Orphen opened his eyes again, but the light wasn't from Azalie, it was coming from behind him.
Boom!—
A photothermal wave shot in a straight line from somewhere behind him, striking Azalie's face before exploding into a ball of light — a blast of enormous heat that burned Orphen's skin. Azalie, at the center of the explosion, was no longer visible in the flames.
(Is Azalie dead?)
Orphen turned around, not knowing what was going on. There, standing in a line along the forest, were Childman, Hartia, five other black-magic sorcerers, and the old white-magic sorcerer.
"Childman? You've already caught up—"
Orphen shouted, but he saw Childman's mouth lift up in a smirk, as if he heard him speak through the sound of the blast.
Childman approached him, as expressionless as ever — a large, firm stride. Hartia was next to him, his expression slightly shadowed as if he was concerned about him. The other sorcerers had their own expressions. Some showed a sense of accomplishment at the end of all that work, while others, who had known Azalie in the past, were stricken with grief. The old white-magic sorcerer only stared blankly at — or rather, past — Orphen, staring at the huge monster enveloped in a pillar of fire behind him.
Orphen turned his gaze back to Childman.
"I almost outran you."
He muttered, and Childman promptly answered in his usual cold tone.
"Did you? I feel like I should be saying that first."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"You're the one who lead the vanguard."
"You son of a—"
Just as he was about to curse... darkness fell around them. The pillar of fire behind him disappeared.
SHHAAAaaaaaa!
Another roar came. At the same time, behind Childman and the others, the white-magic sorcerer's slender body burst into pale blue flames.
"............!"
There was no time to grieve. The white-magic sorcerer crumbled to the ground and turned into a charred heap like spent firewood.
"Spread out!"
Childman quickly ordered his men. Like a pack of hounds, the black-magic sorcerers scattered — each in their own direction. At the center, only Childman remained. Orphen looked back over his shoulder. Azalie, who'd been engulfed in flames earlier, was now towering in the exact same pose as before.
"She's stubborn."
Childman murmured, and at that moment, the black-magic sorcerers began their attack.
"Flames!"
While each of them shouted their favorite incantations, only Hartia's dignified voice stood out in Orphen's ears. Flame, Wind, Light — six different kinds of spells — all stretched out towards Azalie, but when Azalie's roar broke the night air again, all of them vanished.
Next, Azalie roared again. A bolt of lightning blasted the body of one of the black-magic sorcerers. Their defensive magic hadn't manifested in time.
Orphen clenched his hands together as he watched the young sorcerer hurled back like a rag doll, not knowing what to do — Azalie would put up a good fight for a while, but she wouldn't last long. So, he knew he had to do something to help her, but he didn't know what.
"No — I know, but — can I do it?"
Orphen glanced at Childman. His cold-hearted master was now distracted by his men and their fight against Azalie. He seemed to be wondering if it was time for him to join the battle.
The other sorcerers were working on their own spells. It was now or never if he was going to take advantage of the opportunity.
Orphen made up his mind and ran out — in Azalie's direction.
(I'll take the Sword and run away — then Childman won't be able to chase after her with the Sword. If only she'd run away like she has been doing...)
The Sword was still lying at Azalie's feet. Orphen changed an incantation under his breath, increased his muscular strength in an instant, and slid to Azalie's feet with beastly speed. Like a bird of prey catching a fish, he snatched the sword and dashed into the forest, this time without a second glance.
Behind him, a voice rang out.
"Hartia! Krylancelo has the sword! Go after him!"
Childman's voice was clearly audible over the noise of the ongoing battle.
Boom, boom...
He heard explosions behind him. He consoled himself with the fact that it meant Azalie wasn't dead yet, at least as long as he could hear those sounds. With the large Sword of Baldanders in his hands, he kept running. He couldn't feel Hartia's presence, though he should be chasing him.
(I was expecting two or three more of them to come after us. Only Hartia, huh? Though, even just this much should give Azalie a considerable advantage.)
Orphen kept running, stepping over the undergrowth that tried to snag his feet. If he stopped, he'd have to fight Hartia. That didn't seem very appealing, but—
"Flame!"
At Hartia's cry, the brush to his right burst into flames — which wasn't particularly convenient.
Orphen stopped and turned around. If he ran, it'd be over as soon as he shot him in the back.
So instead he stopped and waited, and within a few seconds, Hartia appeared from behind a row of trees. He seemed to have abandoned his infantry spear as he entered the forest, but still had a sword drawn in his hand.
Hartia opened his mouth to speak.
"That woman — No, that monster that you claim to be her just killed Comicron. You remember him, don't you? That's the same Comicron we went to class with."
Orphen realized he was probably referring to the black-magic sorcerer who'd been blasted by Azalie with that bolt of lightning earlier, but Orphen hadn't actually noticed that.
"... That was Comicron?"
When Orphen mumbled the words, Hartia seemed to take it as some poorly-timed joke. The corners of his eyes twitched, and he continued, furious.
"Well, it doesn't matter — He knew there was a risk that he'd die on this commission. Yet, even after what you just saw, you still want to disappoint us?"
"Disappoint?"
"I mean, are you really going to betray us?"
Hartia spat, pointing the tip of his sword at him.
"If you wanted to, you have the power to fight evenly against Azalie, right? If you help us, she could die as quickly as possible — and without pain."
"You think I'm going to kill Azalie?"
Orphen chuckled sarcastically as he drew his sword. He dropped the Sword of Baldanders on the ground on his other side.
Hartia looked at him, a hateful expression on his face.
"You look surprised, but what you're doing now is much more insane to us. Don't you see? She doesn't have a heart anymore. She's just a beast."
"Who can prove that? Until we turn her back."
"There's no way to turn her back. Azalie is the only one who figured out how to use the Sword of Baldanders."
"Well, I'll find a way to do it."
"Will you? You can't even read the rudimentary Wyrd Graph. You've got to be kidding me."
"No. You guys have some points, but you're missing the main point, aren't you? She killed Comicron because you guys attacked her. It was an act of self defense."
"I wouldn't call that self defense. Besides, you're forgetting the fact that she attacked you, too, didn't she? You didn't attack her."
"On that matter, our opinions differ."
Orphen said, deliberately imitating Childman's tone. Hartia's eyes grew narrow, and sharp.
"Then we'll fight this out here."
"That's fine. We crossed swords just the other day, didn't we, Black Tiger?"
Orphen swept his sword into his right hand, freed his left hand, and quickly chanted.
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
Bam! A photothermal wave exploded on the ground between the two, sending up a cloud of dust. Orphen jumped backwards to get away from the center of the blast.
From behind the dirt and sand, Hartia cast his own spell.
"Darkness!"
Instantly, a jet-black darkness fell over the area. There was no starlight, his night vision failed him, there was nothing at all. Orphen clicked his tongue and jumped backwards once more. He figured the dark magic shouldn't be able to cover a particularly large area, but even after jumping back the darkness remained, unbroken.
Even if he took another step back, the darkness would stay the same, wouldn't it? Orphen gave up, thrust his left hand forward again, and screamed.
"I release you—"
But just as he was about to do so, he felt something grab his left hand.
(—!)
He pulled and yanked to get away.
Unable to resist the pull, Orphen's body was lifted into the air — and he was thrown forward in a circular motion, falling on his back, his breath knocked out of him. In the darkness, Orphen frantically swung his sword from a crouching position, but it seemed like Hartia had already retreated back somewhere.
(At this rate, he'll have me right where he wants me.)
Orphen threw down his sword, clasped his palms together around his chest, and shouted.
"I erase, the footsteps of the devil!"
He released his power in a burst to break the barrier around him, and soon after, the dark curtain crumbled away like a shattered windowpane.
He looked and saw Hartia standing a few meters away, knitting a magical composition while watching him.
Orphen tried to gather his own power in the same way, but his concentration was suddenly broken — stunned by what he saw behind Hartia.
Hartia must've been distracted by Orphen's expression. Startled, he stopped moving.
"Cleao!"
"Orpheeeen!"
The girl suddenly jumped out from the grass behind Hartia, kicked the red-haired sorcerer in the back, and trampled him on her way by. Yeah, this was unmistakably Cleao — and she ran around behind Orphen with her sword in hand, crying out.
Followed by—
"Help meeeeeee!"
Vulcan and Dortin jumped out of the grass side by side. They carefully stepped on Hartia, who was lying on the ground, and rushed towards them, shouting at the same time.
"It's a monster! It's after us! This is your jurisdiction, sorcerer!"
"You said it was your job if you played your cards right!"
"What the hell, guys?"
Orphen asked as he tried to shove the girl clinging to him away. Dortin explained in a raspy voice.
"We came here to look for that monster. Then Cleao kicked a pebble and accidentally hit it."
"The enraged monster is chasing us! Help me, sorcerer!"
"You're telling me you're being chased by Azalie? She's out there fighting Childman and his men—"
As Orphen looked from Vulcan to Azalie's direction, he saw Hartia, who'd been laid out flat on the ground, push the front half of his body up. His complexion darkened in a rare rage—
"You bastards!"
The moment he screamed, a huge shadow jumped out from the grass behind him.
"Grraaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"
Hartia's desperate sobs echoed through the air. Orphen quickly prepared himself for the shadow, which rushed toward him, crushing the red-haired sorcerer, and shouted his spell.
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
A flash of light illuminated the area.
The shadow rushing straight at him was blasted upwards, the aftermath of which sent Hartia's body flying several meters into the air. After the shadow and Hartia both fell to the ground in rapid succession, Orphen calmed down the panicked Cleao, looked down at the twitching Hartia and peered down at the monster that had been blown in half. The creature, its internal organs now glistening from its burn wounds, was, upon calm reflection, less than half as big as Azalie, and absolutely nothing like her. It looked like a combination of a cow and a bear with a large pouch around its throat.
"It's a screaming beast."
"Scream...ing... Beast...?"
Cleao asked, still clinging to his waist. Orphen put his hand on her blonde head.
"It's a beast that scares its prey with its booming voice, making them run, then attacks after its prey has exhausted itself. I didn't know they existed here."
"Haaaaahahahahahaha!"
He turned around at the sound of laughter, only to see Vulcan triumphantly placing his food on Hartia's head, who still seemed to be unconscious. With Dortin (forcibly) at his side, he raised his drawn sword and proudly exclaimed.
"Behold! It was I who dealt the finishing blow to this sorcerer! For such a wicked sorcerer, this is how it'll always end when you get caught by the sword of the fighting dog of Mazmaturia! To all my other foul-smelling foes, come at me one after another! I'll kill you one by one, for each day of the calendar!"
"Yeah, there's no way they're gonna die."
"Then I'll kill them by plucking their hairs out!"
"............"
Orphen muttered to himself as he looked at the dwarfs ranting and raving about pointless crap, stomping on Hartia's head in the process.
"... I wonder why I was fighting so seriously."
"It wasn't for nothing. I was saved because you took it seriously!"
Orphen nodded at Cleao, who had finally let go of his waist, and looked a little fussy. He glanced over at Hartia, who was still passed out the ground.
"I don't think your views are exactly wrong, but I'll stand by my own — and Azalie's. If nothing else, I won't let her be killed for the sake of the Tower's honor, or however the hell they want to frame it."
"..........."
Hartia didn't answer. Beneath Vulcan's shoes, there was a slight twitch from the charred black heap.
"What are you talking about?"
Cleao asked.
"Nothing."
Orphen replied, picking up the Sword of Baldanders that was laying on the ground. He handed it to Cleao.
"Keep an eye on this — and on Hartia. I have one more job for you."
Cleao spun around in front of Orphen, who was about to turn his attention to the still-echoing explosions that shook the earth.
"Wait a minute!'
She said pleadingly, and threw the Sword of Baldanders at Vulcan. Vulcan failed to catch it and fell on his back along with Dortin.
"Why don't you leave the sword guarding to the dwarves? Why do you keep leaving me in the dark like this? You're doing me a great disservice."
"Well... Actually..."
The girl was going to follow him whenever she saw the opportunity, no matter how much he tried to talk her out of it.
"Fine. Follow me."
Orphen said, starting to run toward the clearing where Azalie, Childman, and the others were supposed to be fighting. Behind him, Cleao cheered — and — she called out to him within a few steps.
"Hey, wait a minute!"
"What!"
When Orphen turned around, the girl was sitting on the ground.
"I've walked so far that the skin on the soles of my feet is peeling off, and I think they're covered in blood. Can you carry me?"
Orphen ignored her and started to run. He heard Cleao falling further and further behind him, screaming profanities.
When he returned to the clearing that Azalie had conjured, he found that the fight had come to an end — and in a way that Orphen clearly hadn't anticipated.
In the large clearing, bodies lay scattered about. The charred white-magic sorcerer and Comicron, another who'd been torn to pieces, two with only their heads missing, and another black-magic sorcerer, whose name was unknown, but was burned to death by the flames. They all lay before Orphen's eyes. All, it seemed, had died from some sort of black magic attack.
(... Why doesn't she use white magic?)
Orphen wondered, but then again, she hadn't used white magic at all since she had first appeared at the Everlasting residence. Then, she might not be able to use white magic anymore. In any case, it wasn't a big deal.
Either way, Azalie's fighting abilities were extraordinary. Even if she used to be the incredibly powerful black-magic sorceress known as the Demon Witch, this just wasn't normal. On the other hand, she'd fought against six black-magic sorcerers and had driven five of them back. Only Childman still remained.
When Orphen returned to the clearing, Childman glanced at him — his expression unchanged. He was merely checking to see if it was Hartia or Orphen who had returned. He immediately turned back to Azalie and shouted.
"Light!"
A tremendous torrent of light shot out from in front of Childman. The photothermal wave pierced Azalie's body and burst into flames. The heat scorched the ground, but didn't do much damage to Azalie herself. She was protected by magic.
(What power — even Childman can't win a fight like this.)
Orphen realized, and rushed to Childman.
At the same time, Azalie roared. Childman was poised to unleash his defensive spell against the engulfing flames. As if chanting alongside his master, Orphen, too, held up his hands and shouted the spell.
"I spin, the armor of our halo!"
Orphen's wall of halos surged up, overlapping Childman's. The flames were blocked, but even still, the red tongues of the fire flickered at their sides. If their defenses hadn't been doubled, it would've been a close call.
With a dangerous sigh, Orphen waited for her next attack. Beside him, Childman asked in amusement.
"Are you going to help me?"
("You know that was Comicron who died, right?")
Orphen remembered Hartia's words, and answered.
"I only want to save her, not you."
He then frowned.
"She's too strong for that — What's going on with her? It's like she's as strong as you are."
"I know."
Childman replied tersely and shouted in a single word.
"Light!"
"Stop!"
Orphen shouted, and at the same time, that same wall of light appeared between Childman an Azalie. Childman's photothermal wave clanged against the barrier with a metallic sound, and blocked from advancing, then dissipated. Childman gave a dazed smile in response.
"You're a busy fellow, aren't you? Are you going to use your magic to keep me and that monster separated until morning?"
"I want you to understand."
Orphen glanced warily at Azalie, then turned to Childman.
"There has to be a way to save her. It can't be absolutely impossible — at the very least, it might be possible if we can figure out how to use the Sword of Baldanders."
"............"
Childman stared at him with a steady, opaque gaze — for what seemed like a long, long time, even though it wasn't. Then, preceded by a subtle ha ha, Childman burst out laughing, with a strangely emotional look on his face.
"You grew up to be a good man, you know. If anyone is going to succeed me one day, it will be you."
"Childman, that doesn't matter right n—"
Orphen's speech suddenly stopped. A dagger had appeared in Childman's hand before he even knew it, and was now plunged into his lower abdomen, the base already soaked. The taste of blood, which had been refluxed from his stomach, spread into his mouth. Rather than feeling intense pain, he just felt overwhelmed.
"Child...man... Why—"
Childman replied flatly to the words he'd barely managed to spit out.
"I'll heal you soon. After I'm done here."
"You — Ba — stard!"
But Orphen's outstretched hand, filled with curses, cut through the air, only for Childman to dodge out of the way and turn back to Azalie. Azalie's head jerked up to let out another roar.
However, before she could, Childman was shouting a spell, emitting an energy more intense than ever before.
"Demon!"
Thud — A massive, solidified atmosphere was pressed against the earth, as heavy as the footsteps of the devil. The ground sank several centimeters under the pressure, and sounds rang out from the underground roots of trees collapsing beneath it — at the same time, the overburdened atmosphere crackled around Azalie's huge body.
A sort of groan escaped from the back of Azalie's throat. It was probably the magic she had been about to unleash — but it fizzled out. The atmosphere began to collapse, and something like a black haze spread out across the starlit clearing. A moment later, a dull, trembling glow enveloped Azalie.
The material disintegration magic instantly created a powerful explosion that squeezed Azalie like a tattered rag. Shortly thereafter, Orphen was healed by Childman, and rushed over to Azalie's corpse, with no inclination towards thanking him. The monster's body, still steaming like a freshly cooked beefsteak, was extremely hot, but Orphen ignored the burns, holding her head in his arms.
"Azalie!"
He screamed, but there was no answer. Her head was limp and burnt. Even still, she seemed to be breathing faintly. She pushed open her eyelids, large sores in shape, as if infected, and looked up at him.
"Azalie — It's me. It's Orph — Krylancelo. Azalie!"
"Kry—lan—ce—lo"
Suddenly, she flinched, and Azalie's eyes moved — red, burning eyes the size of a human fist. She let out an inaudible voice as her breath quivered — but it wasn't Azalie's voice.
It was a man's voice.
"Krylancelo! I was looking for you — That woman... she's lost her mind. I — I wanted to help her..."
"............"
Orphen stared at the misshapen head in his arms, unsure. It continued.
"I was such a... I couldn't see anything with my eyes like this. All I could hear was the sound — and some sort of sensation. I knew what was around me. But! I couldn't see—"
"... What do you mean?"
Orphen asked back, but the monster couldn't give a satisfactory answer. It prattled on, as dying men often tend to do.
"I... wanted... to... help heerrr—"
"............"
"That's... why I... wanted to... fi...nd... you... I knew... You... could he—lp me..."
The monster stopped speaking, and for a moment, only its eyes moved. Then it stopped moving, and its entire body began to lose its vitality — like a receding tide.
When Orphen looked up, he saw Childman standing there. He was looking down at the monster's corpse, as if toying with some satisfying idea that burned faintly in his eyes.
A voice echoed through the quiet nighttime forest.
"Damn it! You bastard! Stop carrying me like a sack of flour or I'll swing you to death on a swing!"
"Hey, hang on, where do you think you're touching? Why don't you grow up—!"
"O-oh, I dropped my glasses, and my vision looks all weird..."
He saw that Hartia was walking towards him with Vulcan, Dortin, and Cleao. He didn't appear to be in any physical pain. He was carrying the three hostages as well as the Sword of Baldanders — he must have strengthened his arms with magic to carry such a load all at once.
"Orphen. I'll let you return this sword to the Tower of Fang. It originally belonged to the Tower."
Hartia called out.
"My acting isn't so bad, is it?"
He rubbed his back, where he'd been trampled by Cleao and the Screaming Beast.
But Orphen didn't even hear his words, and in truth, he didn't care about him anyway. The Sword of Baldanders was no longer of any importance, either.
Orphen was finally beginning to understand the absurdity of all of this.
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 |