One Foot in the Grave

My feet pounded the dirt. Steel rang out behind me.

"Huff. Huff."

I ran like a madman, not sparing a thought for the children, and the gap between me and the orc riders refused to close any tighter. Part of that was deliberate. I kept planting my feet only on the worst of it, scrambling past the uneven ground onto terrain even more vicious.

On a mountain trail the wolves should have been faster. But the wind spirit was already lending its aid to Volante Footwork, and the moment that feather-light movement reached its absolute limit, the System's voice rang out again.

Twice already, in so short a span, Volante Footwork had leveled. After that the distance between me and the orc riders actually began to open, if only by a little.

This'll do.

My foot came down light. The instant I crested the high ridge and spotted a tree thrusting up out of the thick brush, I pressed myself to the trunk, threw the stealth cloth over my body as it was, and drove mana through it.

Cloth hissed. I felt the mana spread and the stealth cloth cling to the bark, and through the gaps where it had gone half-transparent, the world outside showed in a blur.

Please. Just pass me by.

I had barely shaped the prayer when the orc riders appeared.

"Kura!"

A low growl rolled under the shout. The moment I saw the wolves sniffing the air alongside the orcs' cries, I understood my mistake.

The scent. Damn it!

I yanked the wind spirit into motion, straining to keep my smell from bleeding outward. Whether it would work was impossible to judge, and cold sweat began to run down my back.

Please!

Maybe the emergency measure held. The wolves that had come right up to me cocked their heads—sniff, sniff?—and then trotted on past.

Haaah.

My heart sounded loud enough to burst, and I froze, not daring to twitch so much as a finger, terrified the enemy would hear it too.

"Kreuk-cha!"

The orcs turned with irritable faces.

Yes. Yes. Just a little more.

I couldn't let them go back the way they had come. I couldn't put Vartus and his brothers in danger.

The moment the orc riders started down the path they had climbed, strung out in a single file, I saw the back of the last one's head.

Now!

I folded the stealth cloth in one motion and launched myself. Cloth snapped. My foot struck bark.

"Kuhm?"

The orc rider turned at that small sound, and a spear shivering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with force drove straight into his throat. Flesh gave with a wet, punching sound.

Got him!

In the same instant I planted a foot on the wolf's back and sprang away.

"Kroacha!!"

A bark split the air. By the time the orcs' furious roars burst out, my feet, wrapped in the wind spirit, were already on their fifth stride.

Bark! Bark!

From there, the deadly game of tag began all over again. Feet hammered. Another bark.

A little distance had opened, but the fight clearly still counted as ongoing—no experience notification came. This was no time to fret over something that small.

One more time. Will it work?

The thought came even as I fled, but I had no choice either way. Find another decent spot and try again. That was all.

I was still sprinting like a madman on that resolve when I saw the orcs shout again.

"Kroek-cha!"

I flinched and looked back, and my eyes went wide.

No. Why!?

Far beyond the orcs, coming up from below the ridge, were Vartus and his brothers. Vartus led them with a longsword in hand—when had he even drawn it?—and his younger brothers had fire spirits summoned to either side of them. They seemed to think they were advancing hidden in the brush. There was no way they would go unseen. Worse, on the far side, where the brothers couldn't look, I could see the detachment's main force closing in.

"Kroa!"

The orc riders broke into a charge toward the brothers.

It went without saying they had no chance of handling orc riders. I also couldn't stand by and let them die.

"Damn it!"

I pivoted on the spot and charged the orc riders.

"Over here, you bastards!"

I screamed as I ran and even hurled a rock I'd snatched up. They didn't react.

Louder!

"I said over here, you sons of bitches!!"

Only when the wind spirit swelled my voice did they finally respond. But the glance they threw back carried a sneer. They understood exactly why I was doing this, and they were taunting me for it.

Damn it!

I gave up the useless noise and poured more strength into my legs to catch them. In that span I saw Vartus startle at the orc riders bearing down on him.

No!

Desperate, I stopped thinking about what came after and dumped every drop of mana into speed alone. Wind keened around me. Even then I found myself focusing, without meaning to, on the current the wind spirit used to aid my movement—and it suddenly struck me that the flow resembled the mana circulation of Volante Footwork, which chased extreme lightness.

Like this?

The instant I adjusted the flow of my mana to match, the notifications crashed in one over another.

Hup!

As the footwork's level shot upward, I felt my body accelerate hard. From that moment the distance to the orc riders began to close fast.

"Kroa?"

The orc riders, who had been running with their eyes fixed ahead, wheeled around.

A bark. The riderless wolf came at me first, and I dropped my stance to the extreme and slipped it. Right behind it were an orc rider and his wolf. Rider and mount both flinched at once, startled.

Now!

I carried my speed straight into the thrust, and the spear punched into the open maw of the wolf beneath the orc. A wet impact. The wolf jerked, and the light went out of its eyes.

"Kyaak!"

A massive steel axe came down from overhead. At the same time, through the spirits' senses, I saw it clear as day: behind me, the claws of the wolf I had ignored—if ignored was even the right word—coming around in a swing.

I detonated the fire spirit in the eyes of the wolf at my back. With the earth spirit I shook the collapsing wolf and nudged the orc's balance just off true, and with the water spirit I sheeted blood-water across his eyes.

The axe went wide with a heavy rush of air. I slipped it, ripped the spear free, and thrust again.

"Kroa!"

The orc shook off the water spirit with a shout and set both feet on the ground—exactly as my spear drove for his throat. His eyes flew wide. He stepped one pace diagonally forward and swung the axe again. Steel rang.

Shit...!

He avoided the true line of the spear aimed at his neck, stepped inside my reach, and threw a killing blow. A counter worthy of an elite monster, and far too lethal for me.

...Damn it!

This wasn't a moment to retreat, so I chose to go forward instead. I slipped a little to the side, shot past the orc in front of me, and leapt. Another orc rider was already surging in behind, a vicious smile on his face as he swung his axe.

Damn it!

There was no room left to dodge, so I met him with a thrust of my own. I twisted as hard as I could, putting my weight behind the spearpoint, trying to keep it from landing as a critical hit.

The intent only half succeeded. A wet stab. A crunch of bone.

"Kyar...?"

He hadn't expected me to rush in ready to die with him. My spear buried itself in the throat of the rearmost orc rider—but in that same instant a hideous sensation struck my right shoulder. Cold seemed to drive from the shoulder straight toward my heart.

I had to ignore it and force my body around. A spirit had just warned me of another orc swinging an axe at my back. The blow whistled past as I dodged, and I tried to swing the spear.

The spear wouldn't move the way I wanted.

No. More precisely, my arm wouldn't. My right arm.

Only then did I register the blood pouring from my shoulder and the arm hanging limp. A half-beat late, I swung the spear with my left arm alone. It should have missed, absurdly.

A hard wind caught my spear and guided it, and the point punched straight into the orc's throat.

In the same breath, fire burst across the faces of the two wolves charging me from front and back, and the dirt of the ground rose up and dragged at their legs. That wasn't something I had done. My mana was already hanging by a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thread.

"Hah!"

I wrung out the last of my strength and swung the spear with my left arm. Attack +9. Had the effect of Edelin's longspear ever felt this precious?

The thrusts were sloppy, but thanks to the wind spirit hauling the blade where it needed to go, I managed to finish the wolves as well.

The level that hadn't risen at all on the third and fourth floors jumped by two in a short span, but for the moment the pain outweighed the joy.

"Ghhk."

The instant I thought it was over, hideous pain screamed up from the shoulder that had been crushed and shattered. It was a wound bad enough that an ordinary person might have died of shock.

And yet—

"Char! The medicine I gave you!"

At Vartus's voice, suddenly close, I remembered him slipping something into my clothes earlier. I fumbled inside my shirt, and there it was: a bottle of red liquid.

A potion!?

The thought had barely landed before I bit the stopper off with my teeth and swallowed the liquid straight down. Gulp after gulp. The moment that cool, clean drink touched my stomach, something ground and cracked inside the ruined shoulder.

"Ghk!?"

A sharp, electric pain flared through the shattered joint. Bone grated. Flesh knit with a soft hiss. I glanced over and saw the shoulder that had slumped inside the armor, torn open and pouring blood, restore itself and close as if the wound had been a lie.

Whoa...

I was feeling something I had no words for, staring at a miracle modern medicine could never explain, when they reached me.

"Char!"

"Uncle Char!"

"Are you okay!?"

Vartus and the children rushed in and threw their arms around me. My first thought was why they had come here instead of running—but they had saved my life, so all I could do was manage a smile.

"Uh. Yeah. Right. Ah. I'm all right."

I could feel it in my body now, beyond any doubt.

I can't clear this alone. Not a chance.

Just to take down three orc riders, I had put one foot in the grave and climbed back out.

Even if I lure the others and somehow pick them off one by one, it'll be the same.

Grash, the one they called captain of the detachment, was on a different level from ordinary orc warriors even at a glance. However low I set the estimate, he felt stronger than that fiend on the second floor.

Should I just settle for the normal quest?

Even that didn't look easy. If things were still as I'd seen them from above, this mountain would belong to the detachment soon, and the golden window to slip away already seemed long past.

What do I do...

I was still turning it over when Vartus spoke, eyes bright.

"Char, I saw goblins earlier too. If we just break through the little goblins, wouldn't that work?"

The words struck a spark. Of course I had no intention of adopting his absurd plan to simply punch a way through.

Only—

Goblins. Paralysis needles.

The moment I thought of the goblin warriors packed into the detachment, and of the special weapons they usually carried, a good idea surfaced.

"Kids. Young masters. Move carefully, and don't make a sound."

"Okay!"

"Keep your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠voices down, too."

"...Okay."

"And put out the fire spirits."

"...Got it."

Vartus and his brothers were people I had to protect, but they weren't simply powerless children. In a sense, they handled spirits better than I did.

So.

"We fight this as a guerrilla war. Goblins first. We ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sweep every one of them."

"We get to fight too?"

"...Yes. I need the help."

"Yes!"

"Yeah! I can do it too!"

"Voices!"

"Ah..."

Looking at these heedless children, I felt another sigh coming. But—

Maybe it's possible after all.

At that thought, a flame of hope began to catch again.