Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: Chapter 13: Those Who Follow the Prophecy (2)
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3
In general, a great noble's procession came with a retinue to match. Especially for a duke, no matter where he went, attendants followed to handle the tedious tasks.
Yet here was Kairen building a fire and fetching stream water to prepare a meal.
Azel remarked,
“You're the last person I imagined seeing chopping wood and hauling water, Your Grace.”
Of course, Azel hadn't been slacking off while making Kairen do the chores. He'd dashed through the forest and bagged a bird and a rabbit. For a high-level Spirit Order practitioner who wielded psychic waves freely, securing food through hunting felt almost like cheating.
Kairen replied nonchalantly,
“When there's no one else to do it, I have to. Things don't happen by themselves, do they? Or should the lowly subordinate handle it all?”
“I'll pass.”
With practiced hands, Azel skinned the rabbit and dressed the meat. As he worked, he grumbled,
“Couldn't we have at least packed some rations before leaving the capital?”
“Hmm. I didn't realize you were this slow. My mistake for overestimating you.”
“......”
Azel pouted.
The two were traveling from the capital to the Tarantos Duchy—by running.
Not figuratively, but literally. They'd declined the royal family's offer of mounts, minimized their baggage, and raced straight there in a beeline.
Anyone else would call it insane, but Kairen had a perfectly rational reason.
*It's the fastest way.*
He could run faster than a galloping horse, ignoring terrain to head straight to the destination. No following roads could compare.
His miscalculation had been Azel's stamina.
“Tsk tsk. Even at that sluggish pace, you barely covered under twenty kilometers before collapsing.”
“...Anyone overhearing might think the units were off.”
Kairen clicked his tongue, and Azel grumbled.
They'd traversed what the map showed as twenty kilometers at speeds matching a human's full sprint—over mountains, through forests, across fields. It was far more grueling than the same distance on a proper road.
Azel had awakened in this era only a month and a half ago. He'd built some strength and increased his mana, but it was nothing compared to his prime. Long-distance travel relied more on endurance than skill; no shortcuts worked, so he'd tired quickly.
Kairen tore into the roasted bird and said,
“Your swordsmanship fooled me into overrating you. We'll adjust the schedule. I aimed to arrive by tomorrow night, but...”
“......”
The straight-line distance from the capital to the Tarantos Duchy exceeded five hundred kilometers on the map.
“Let's target arrival in a week. You can manage seventy kilometers a day, right?”
“...You're really out to kill me, huh?”
“Ho, music to my ears hearing you whine.”
“Urgh.”
“Better pick a village to overnight in today.”
Kairen, in high spirits, hummed as he unrolled the map.
And so they covered exactly seventy kilometers a day in a straight line. For Azel, each day was agony, his body screaming, but Kairen complained it was too slow.
*Ugh! Once I recover my strength! I'll make you regret this, you old coot!*
He never imagined grinding his teeth at his age, nostalgic for the past. Azel cursed Kairen inwardly but doggedly met the daily quota before collapsing into sleep.
It was the fourth day.
“Hm?”
Kairen suddenly frowned. Scaling the mountain, he spotted smoke rising in the distance.
“Azel.”
“Yes. I see it.”
Azel spotted it too.
Without another word, they raced toward it. They treated sheer cliffs like flat ground, leaped from tree to tree, flying toward the smoke.
It was a slash-and-burn village midway up the mountain. Bandits, including orcs, had raided it and were looting.
“Hm?”
Approaching at high speed, the pair halted upon sensing something off. Someone hid in the trees with concealment magic, watching the plunder below.
*A mage? No, something's strange.*
Not advanced enough to fool them, Azel and Kairen easily spotted the mage. A small figure in a worn hat and baggy traveler's cloak. Face hidden, but the aura of potent mana was unmistakable.
*Dragonkin? No... wait.*
Azel sensed Dragon Demon energy from them. Not like Dragonkin or hybrids—the feel of a human who'd undergone the Dragon Slaying Ritual, like himself.
*Doesn't look like they're with the bandits...*
The raiders seemed ordinary thugs, not elite like the mage. If not allies, why watch so calmly?
-Go for now. If hostile, we'll deal with them.
Kairen decided via Whispering, then plunged into the village. He dove like a raptor onto an orc tearing at a young girl's clothes.
Crack!
Sword drawn, the orc's head flew.
Azel followed. Three heads rolled where he landed, blood spraying.
“Argh!”
“What the hell?!”
The bandits' reactions lagged behind the sudden assault. Azel and Kairen didn't care—they struck any foe in sight.
The bandits had already killed or subdued many villagers, dragging out women and children. Thinking victory and loot assured, they crumbled under the surprise attack.
“W-Who the hell are you?”
A hulking man, likely the leader, stammered in panic.
Azel advanced and said,
“Not really worth telling you. No point spoiling it for a dead man any—...”
Azel vanished mid-sentence.
“...way.”
The final word came from behind. The man whirled in shock.
But something was wrong. Just turning his head, his vision sank oddly.
Then his head, cleanly severed, tumbled as blood fountained from the stump.
Thud!
“Aaahhh!”
A woman collapsed before him screamed. Azel flinched.
“Whoops. My bad.”
“Greenhorns always lack finesse,” Kairen chided, approaching.
About thirty bandits total—it took less than five minutes for the pair to slaughter them. Not prepared for battle, pants down mid-rape, they fell easily.
The duo freed the bound villagers and doused the fires on the huts. Survivors bowed in gratitude.
“Oh, thank you so much!”
Yet fear lingered in their eyes. Not just from the overwhelming might that massacred the bandits in seconds. Azel aside, Kairen was Dragonkin, clad in pitch-black full plate like a high noble.
“Hm. A slash-and-burn village in these hills... Local lord must be a real bastard.”
Kairen tilted his head curiously.
These were folk who'd fled the lord's domain to farm the mountains. Harsh rule often drove such escapes—droughts, disasters ruined crops, yet taxes crushed them. Or criminals formed hideouts.
Lacking defenses, they'd been easy prey. Saved from death and plunder, but by nobles? Trouble.
Kairen defied convention.
“No need to fear. Not my subjects, not bandits—what you do isn't my business.”
“...Aren't you a great lord revered even at court? Shouldn't say that.”
“No one's listening, so what? Besides, I've got bigger concerns.”
Kairen glared at the tree-perched mage. With Flash Step, he appeared before them.
“Huh?”
The mage startled, leaping down. Apparently thought the concealment foolproof.
Kairen landed ahead. The mage asked, flustered,
“What's this about?”
Kairen and Azel were dumbfounded. Didn't they know how suspicious they looked?
Seeing the half-knocked-off hat, they were surprised. A boy, barely thirteen or fourteen. Golden curls, blue eyes—he gazed up at Kairen with utter incomprehension.
Azel's shock was greatest.
*This kid underwent the Dragon Slaying Ritual? No way...*
Kairen asked coldly,
“Who are you? Not with them... but you didn't orchestrate this from behind, did you?”
“No relation at all.”
“Then why hide and watch?”
“I was passing by when they showed. Hid so they wouldn't hurt me.”
“You're a skilled mage—thought never crossed your mind to help the victims?”
The boy tilted his head.
“That might've gotten me killed. Should I have?”
“......”
His brazen attitude left Kairen and Azel momentarily speechless.
The boy straightened his hat, stood, and brushed off his clothes.
“I get why you're asking, but I had no duty to, right? I didn't summon the bandits, don't know these people, and have no other reason to feel obligated.”
“True... enough.”
Kairen grumbled, displeased.
The boy's words were selfish, but not wrong. A strong mage, yet no guarantee against thirty-plus bandits. Prioritizing his life was coldly rational. Moral scolding wouldn't help.