Anomaly
Anomaly
"A human I can feel Magic Power from. The idea that there are two humans like you is absurd. The one who turned the swamp forest into a swamp. Little Eldmia. It's definitely you."
A single furious shout he'd flung along with a sword from beyond the abandoned dungeon gate had snowballed into an insane mess and come rolling back with this lunatic attached.
Judging by the nuance in how he spoke, I was certain he hadn't been there at the time. And unless the Demon King's Army's communication technology was outrageously advanced, the fact that he knew detailed information about the sudden vanishing of a unit already meant he was no ordinary soldier.
But even setting all that aside, the fact that I couldn't feel a single trace of Magic Power from the bastard standing right in front of me was driving my anxiety nearly to its absolute peak.
Because a tree had been completely sliced apart by that strike a moment ago, and yet I felt nothing—that was a truly ridiculous situation.
If the bastard hadn't pursued me and we'd just happened to cross paths on the road, I'd have trusted my own two legs and run without a second thought, so bad was the feeling.
Yet, on the other hand, a battle-hungry urge was also creeping up inside me, wanting to see how far everything I'd built up so far would carry me.
"Really. I'm truly glad to meet you. I don't care about anything else, but you were the one I absolutely wanted to meet at least once."
At a glance, he looked human enough that you'd think he was just wearing horn decorations, and because I couldn't feel any Magic Power from him, I couldn't gauge his skill at all. But apart from that, one thing I could tell for certain was that he was completely out of his mind.
Just looking at the way he was laughing confirmed it. The phrase "a smile steeped in madness" must have been invented specifically to describe the face he was making then, right? Unlike Ragnis's red hair, his long, disheveled locks, reminiscent of dried blood, also seemed like the result of having completely lost his mental leash.
"But you're pretty big, not what I imagined. Why Little Eldmia? Doesn't seem like a term born from inferiority... Was it simply a word you used to refer to your own quiet self? If so, that's rather poetic... or isn't it? Hmm. You really are fascinating."
Even his facial expressions flitted back and forth in an instant like a madman's, and he kept up a constant stream of muttered monologue—a textbook lunatic. But for all that, what nagged at me was the way the analysis coming out of his mouth was so rational it seemed to have cut all ties with madness and prejudice.
A rational madman? He'd easily top the list of people I didn't want to fight.
Of course, he was guessing in the wrong direction because he didn't know about the little hippo, the symbol of vengeance and anger... but the problem was, he wasn't some third-rate fool who judges an opponent by appearance and gets it wrong. Please, I begged, even if he underestimated me, let him at least drop his guard.
"Heh, hehehehehehe."
Whatever could possibly be that good, the way he suddenly threw his whole body into that laugh was pure madness. If he were weaker than me, my instincts would've rejected him so hard I'd have charged in and started smashing his face that very instant. If this was his concept, I was ready to applaud him as the ultimate concept-obsessed freak.
"Whatever, doesn't matter. Did you know? You're quite famous."
"I don't know about that crap, but I do know your tone is so damn chummy it's fucking disgusting."
He talked in that gentle tone like he was addressing a lover, and it was enough to give me goosebumps. Yet even that reaction of mine, the bastard laughed off and continued his analysis.
"Aggressive. And you're tense. Heheheh. Yet, unlike how you look, you're rational. When I heard you blew away the magic tool in the swamp forest right on the spot, I wondered... so it was a planned action after all."
I had no idea what he was seeing to make those analyses and judgments, but maybe the same psychology that makes every plausible-sounding fortune-teller's line feel accurate was at work. I kept thinking he could see right through every single one of my actions.
"I like you. Now then, show me that thing from earlier again."
I didn't need to ponder what he meant. Right on cue with his gesture, a blade made of Magic Power came flying at me.
Thankfully—truly thankfully—the Magic Power blade was at a level I could see and dodge. I rolled sideways to avoid the strike aimed at my ankle, and as I regained my stance, the bastard began smiling with satisfaction.
"You dodged it again? How? Is it instinct? Do the hairs stand up where an attack is coming?"
For all his revealed madness, the way he would open his eyes straight and try to analyze the moment a question arose was infuriating. A cold analysis that would otherwise just make me conclude "he's a strong opponent" and be done with it instead became unbearable because of his gleeful face, like he was observing a lab rat. My disgust-o-meter was shooting sky-high.
Fine. I had already run at full speed and been caught; showing my back again was pointless.
In that case, the best I could do now was to fight and either kill him or render him completely incapacitated before he could fully figure me out.
Steeling my resolve, I readjusted my grip on my sword and pushed away the noisy thoughts, driving back the horror and fear that clung from my toes upward.
"What. You're going to fight? Running would be better for you."
"You think a lie like that is going to work after suddenly popping up next to the guy who was fleeing at full speed?"
"Ah. Now that you mention it, that's true."
In a way, it was a relief that his response—as if it genuinely hadn't occurred to him—stoked my anger.
When the obsession and rage toward violence that outclassed me combined, it created a synergy of anger-control disorder that got my body moving.
My whole body went numb as I recklessly pulled up Magic Power without thinking of the consequences, and in that same instant, I launched myself forward.
Since whatever he used seemed similar to magic, keeping distance did me no good. The fact that I couldn't see the flow of Magic Power when he cast it was a little unsettling, but I could see the process of the Magic Power blades forming, so I could dodge them well enough.
With that judgment, I closed the distance in an instant, but the bastard still smiled leisurely.
"Did I ever say I could only launch one at a time?"
Five Magic Power blades began forming above his head. Whatever magic it was, it wasn't generated by absorbing the ambient Magic Power, so I couldn't sever it. And even the bastard casting it—I still felt no Magic Power from him.
Once all the blades were fully formed, he swung his arm as if he couldn't contain his joy, letting out a shout of excitement.
"Try dodging this too!"
That alone told me a great deal.
First, the bastard was clearly no warrior. The fact that he hadn't noticed my gaze shifting to the magic he was preparing proved that beyond doubt. It was a common trait among mages who never fought in close quarters.
And he hadn't even imagined that I could see Magic Power. Every time I dodged, he marveled. He could definitely see it with his own eyes, yet he believed without a doubt that I could never see it.
In other words, sensing Magic Power and seeing it were completely separate abilities, and it was clear that it was neither normal nor common.
What the bastard was seeing was something other than Magic Power, or perhaps a "Magic Eye" really did exist and he alone was seeing it.
Then it was doable.
Because he held no assumption that I could see the Magic Power blades, and because of his confidence in his "invisible" attacks, dodging them was not difficult—they came in extremely simple patterns.
What I really wanted was to test if I could slice through not just the forming spells but also the completed ones like those, but the risk was too great to try now. So I deliberately dodged as narrowly as possible and charged at him.
Even if he wasn't a warrior, he'd get suspicious if I dodged too openly. If I could sacrifice a little cloth and skin to keep him off guard, it was a bargain.
And the payoff of this bargain was the bastard's life.
"I really didn't think you'd dodge."
But even as I dodged the five blades one after another and closed in, no sense of crisis showed on his face. Still, the one thing I did appreciate was that the earlier madman's grin had vanished completely.
Yet, even with my enhanced abilities, only four more steps and my sword would be in reach—and still, aside from looking intrigued, there was no other visible change. That bothered me.
The Magic Power blades were forming at a consistent speed, which meant if I dodged the same spell just one more time, the bastard would definitely get cut. So why was he so nonchalant? Did he have some hidden card I didn't know about?
"Then how about this?"
With his mutter, a sphere formed not above his head, but around his thigh.
Again, it didn't absorb the ambient Magic Power, and it had no form. This time, unlike the blades, the sphere launched without any signal or movement. He must have thought I was predicting attacks based on his motions. It flew faster than the blades, so I would probably get hit.
It was a good attempt, but since I could see it, it meant nothing to me. I dodged, narrowly again, and closed the remaining distance, then swung my sword with all my strength, aiming for the bastard's neck.
In that fleeting moment, the thing I caught in his eyes was still a question. There, mixed in, was an indifference that seemed utterly uninterested in the sword flying toward his own neck.
A gaze that held no acceptance of death, no shock, no panic—just a question. It was not worried about dying.
"I'm starting to get annoyed because I don't understand."
My sword touched the neck of the bastard, who still displayed that insane emotional volatility, but I felt no resistance at all.
Instead, the resistance was felt within my own body.
"Fuck...!"
As I stared in shock at my sword passing through his neck as if through a hologram, a dizzying pain erupted in my abdomen.
It hurt like hell, as if my flank had been torn clean off!
"How are you dodging?"
It was already too late, but not knowing what would follow, I gritted my teeth and threw my body sideways. But the bastard only sent me that madman's gaze and didn't move a muscle. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I felt my left flank with my hand. A hole had been punched through it, just like a gunshot wound.
I had been hit from the blind spot of my sword swing, so I couldn't tell what had hit me, but it was definitely no bladed weapon.
And that made sense, because even in this situation, the bastard's hands were still completely empty.