Anomaly

I remembered hearing somewhere that night in the forest came quickly... or something like that.

I wasn't particularly bothered by it. After I'd grown a little older while living with Asilie, I often went night hunting, and my night vision was pretty good, which was part of it.

But no matter how quickly night fell, the fact that I hadn't managed to get out of the forest from broad daylight until now was bothering me a little.

The problem wasn't just that the forest was massive, but that my body was in such a fucking mess. Dragging my body, which grew heavier with every step, through the woods was harder than I'd expected, and spirits didn't really have a strong concept of paths, so the help they could offer was limited.

But that didn't mean their help was useless. Even as I bled and the temperature around me kept dropping, I could still feel a warm heat. Without that, I would've had to stop in my tracks immediately and hide my body in some half-assed spot.

It was thanks to that help that I'd been able to settle and rest at the base of this cliff in a halfway decent spot; I couldn't be grateful enough.

"I really hope those Demonfolk's night vision is shit..."

I didn't have the energy to erase my tracks, and I couldn't shake off the pursuit completely. I didn't even have simple tools, and physically I'd pretty much hit my limit. On top of the injuries, I'd handled way too much Magic Power at once, and it wasn't recovering easily.

In this situation, the option I'd chosen was essentially to leave it all up to luck.

I'd hide out in this spot while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠praying the enemy's tracking skills weren't all that great, and try to pull myself together.

I knew it, too. Believing that this choice—not the least bit planned and far from safe—would go my way was just a futile cope in front of the bastards who'd infiltrated the Empire's territory, built a gate, and hidden themselves with the goal of kidnapping or assassinating Esmue.

But dragging my exhausted body around would only get me caught when I was even more drained. Honestly, I could confidently say that both my condition and the situation were worse than when I'd faced those thugs at eight years old.

So it was better to hide somewhere a little less conspicuous and conserve at least a little strength, along with the hope that they wouldn't find me.

"And it looks like it's about to rain, too. What a total shitshow."

The morning had definitely seemed like it'd be clear all day, but I forced myself to ignore the signs of coming rain—as if the world was telling me to suffer like hell—and decided to catch a quick nap.

I'd been promised that even if I fell into a deep sleep, the Spirit would wake me. So I closed my eyes, determined to sleep without a care. The moment I made up my mind to do so—

"Lucky you."

A sudden voice jolted me alert in an instant, and I tensed up hard, snapping my eyes open.

I thought they might have caught up far faster than I'd expected, but when I saw the torrential rain battering the surroundings—now unmistakably darker than just before I'd closed my eyes—I understood. The moment I'd decided to sleep, I'd blacked out, and now a considerable amount of time had passed.

Forcing my lead-heavy body and sluggish mind to work, I checked the distance to the one who'd spoken. There was absolutely no way the mutter could have reached me through the downpour. Seeing the black silhouettes just beginning to emerge from the undergrowth, trying so carefully to kill their sound and presence even in the storm, they couldn't have shouted on purpose for me to hear them.

Which meant the Spirit had watched over me. I honestly felt like bowing in gratitude.

Kurrung! The sound that rang out with the flash of lightning wasn't thunder but a lightning strike itself. It must have landed very close by; for an instant, the world lit up white and revealed the figures advancing toward me.

Six men with horns—there was no need to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ask, they were Demonfolk. Soaked from the rain, they glared at me, each of them with blades drawn, but none of them rushed in.

"Looks like you've had a rough go of it."

I cleared my sleep-clogged throat and spoke louder. Even in the darkness, I clearly saw all six of them flinch.

The bastard who'd been dead asleep just moments ago had suddenly spoken to them, and not only heard their muttering but answered it—no wonder they were startled. Still, the one in the center, holding back the other five from making a rash move while they set up an encirclement, replied.

"Are you the Hero?"

Hmm. It was a question, not an answer. I had no obligation to give an answer either, so I replied with another question.

"Your captain's dead, so why didn't you just turn back quietly? Why chase after me?"

I was doing my best to act nonchalant, but cold sweat was running down my back.

Because if I ended up in a situation like—oh, that guy wasn't the captain, he was actually the weakest among us—I'd really meet my second death.

Still, every time the lightning flashed, I saw the stiff expressions on their faces. It seemed I didn't need to plan for that worst-case scenario.

In that case, all that remained was a battle of bluff and finding an opening.

◈

When they found the member of the Human Race asleep beneath the cliff, sheltered from the rain, the Demonfolk leading the pursuit party barely suppressed the urge to commend the subordinate who had finally tracked down the member of the Human Race who killed their captain, even as the sun set and rain poured, and quietly set up an encirclement. The sudden downpour was so intense even an elf wouldn't be able to sense anyone's presence, but since the target had killed the captain, the Demonfolk judged it was only right to be cautious beyond cautious.

However, upon seeing the figure sleeping peacefully without so much as a campfire, he'd let the complaint slip out without meaning to.

When a reply came back to that complaint, goosebumps erupted all over his body—a body he'd thought had no room left to even feel a chill.

The fact that no terrified scream burst from his lips when he realized that the eyes, which had been closed just a moment before, were now looking right at him, was purely because he was so shocked he couldn't even scream.

This was the one who had ripped out their captain's throat, a man neither magic nor blade could touch. They'd had no intention of even approaching unless it was a surprise attack, and they'd moved in thinking this was the perfect opportunity. But the instant they heard that calm, sure reply—as if he'd known all along—everything became suspect.

What they'd thought was a lack of energy to even erase his tracks now began to look like he'd left the trail on purpose. And their judgment that he was in no condition to flee hastily after the fight with the captain... began to twist into the suspicion that he hadn't hurried because there had been no reason to hurry at all.

"We have to avenge the captain."

He hadn't meant to say anything, but before he knew it, he'd answered in an attempt to deny the fact that he'd been overwhelmed. At that, the crouching member of the Human Race tilted his head slightly to the side.

"So the Human Race didn't consider that guy a captain? Unless my eyes are wrong, all I see are Demonfolk."

"When pursuing the one who killed the captain, we couldn't bring anyone who lacked skill."

"But you came."

As if he'd heard something completely illogical, the member of the Human ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Race pointed out the Demonfolk member's answer. In the moment when the Demonfolk member was about to wonder if their conversation was failing to connect, he understood the words of the member of the Human Race and ground his teeth.

You lack skill just the same. So what made you think you were any different and follow me all the way here? That was what the member of the Human Race was saying.

It was dark, but he could definitely feel his subordinates' agitation. And he thought that his own agitation wasn't much different. Perhaps, during the entire pursuit, he had now faced the very situation he'd been most afraid of.

That this member of the Human Race... had simply killed the captain with ease and had just been on his way back—the worst possible scenario.

"When I first burst out of the gate, I judged the situation based on what was happening in the capital and killed your comrades."

While he agonized over whether to attack right now, the member of the Human Race continued.

"When I tried to get out of here, your captain pursued me and tried to kill me, so I killed him. There's no other reason. I didn't kill them because they're Demonfolk, and I didn't kill them because there's a war on."

Even as they watched the member of the Human Race put a hand on his knee and rise to his feet, not a single one of them could make the decision to rush forward and stop that action. On the contrary, they felt a sense of crisis at the member of the Human Race'ss movements and each took a step backward.

"It's simple. If you point a sword at me, I'll just point a sword back. On the other hand, if you sheathe your swords, I have no reason to draw mine either."

"...Are you trying to persuade us right now?"

Reason cried out against the instinct to flee. There is no way he could have defeated the captain easily.

For the past eighty years, no one had found a way to kill him. It made no sense that, one day, purely by chance—and right before a major operation like the kidnapping of an imperial princess—a being with a perfect counter would appear and kill him in one blow. The opponent is also extremely exhausted. So he's just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spewing lies to dazzle the six of us. If he really could kill us as quickly as he did the captain, there would be absolutely no reason to grant such pointless mercy.

"Persuade?"

But the member of the Human Race looked far too calm.

Though his clothes were a bit worn, that was about all that could be confirmed in the dark of the stormy night. He wanted to believe that the human's limbs were as ragged as his clothes, but that composed response and movement kept blocking that thought.

And as if to completely seal off that line of thinking, the member of the Human Race smoothly drew his sword.

"It's a word of advice. The choice is yours. But you won't have much time to think about it."

He could already feel Magic Power from the member of the Human Race, and the mere fact that he had killed the captain that no one else could kill had already saturated him with terror. In any other situation, he would have immediately ordered them to scatter and flee.

But the Demonfolk member who had endured a war stretching over seven years, when faced with fear, thought not of personal advancement but of the fate of his race.

"Today. We die here."

That member of the Human Race is dangerous. If we can't tell whether he's fine or not—

Then we'll stake our lives to find out.