A Swifter Descent
The descent was faster than the ascent. As I rappelled down the cliff, the knack for releasing and reapplying Mana Adhesion had already seeped into my body. Three leaps across the vertical rock face took me past the midpoint, and gliding over the frost-slicked boulders brought the treeline into view soon enough. The moment I landed amid the branches.
A foreign scent snagged at my nostrils. The smell of blood mingled with magic beast fluids. My dragon senses dissected the molecules carried on the wind like a razor. High iron content, laced with that distinctive fishy reek of acidic mucus. Not just one. Without slowing my steps, I turned my gaze toward where the odor thickened.
There it was. Down the slope, in a narrow valley thick with chestnut trees. Something lay sprawled under the moonlight. Two of them. Stone Armadillo Lizards. Mid-sized magic beasts with rock-hard shell spines on their backs like helmets, flipped over side by side, foam drooling from their mouths. They were still breathing. Their lower abdomens heaved in spasms, vertical slit pupils rolled back to show only whites.
It was as if their magic beast instincts had been crushed, forcing their bodies into voluntary shutdown. Not because of my Presence. Certain. Aside from transforming at the summit cave entrance, I'd never once unsealed it. Even then, a mana barrier had perfectly contained it. Besides, these Stone Armadillo Lizards lived around 800 meters elevation. No way they could sense the aura from the peak.
Ten more steps down, and I spotted three Screaming Bats hanging upside down from branches, rigid as boards. Alive, but in a coma-like state, unable to move. The waves from the southern sky. That black tidal surge of mana I'd seen from the summit was already seeping into the entire atmosphere. Humans couldn't sense it, but mana-sensitive magic beasts were reacting on instinct. Considering the distance from the source, this was just the beginning. Once the waves thickened, they wouldn't stop at comas. Some would rampage, others flee.
If the magic beast migration in Frostsea Forest worsened, the Empire would launch a full investigation. And that probe would lead to the Black Thunder Mountain Range—. No, that's already handled. I'd sealed the cave with lava. Erased the traces. My problem was solved. The real issue was those waves. A variable absent from the original story. An unidentified massive mana anomaly. No clue what ripples it would send across the continent.
My original knowledge was my only safety net. The seclusion plan was built on knowing events in advance. Hide quietly until the story kicked off in a year, dodging the protagonist Harwen's path—that was supposed to keep me safe. But if something outside the original was happening? Miss the predictions, and I couldn't evade danger. Get my identity exposed, and death followed swiftly. Whether it was my death or the world's minus me, who knew. Either way, worst-case.
At minimum, I need to figure out what that is. My initial plan to hole up in the north, eyes shut, ears plugged? Shredded now. Without knowing the waves' source, nowhere was guaranteed safe. I hurried past the valley. The foaming Stone Armadillo Lizards' spasms were intensifying. Soon the village would sense something off too.
The forest thinned, familiar grass scents and wooden fence outlines entering my view. Rune Village. Red tinged the eastern sky. Dawn neared. Poachers said they'd head out before sunrise. Climbing now would just hit the lava-blocked cave—their expedition was doomed to failure. Didn't matter. Or shouldn't.
Before turning onto the village back path, I detoured to a quiet yard's clothesline. I'd been naked under a single cloak from the start. I snatched a worn shirt and pants from the line, yanking them on quick. I'd pay for them somehow later, I vowed. Straightening my clothes as I stepped onto the path, a commotion hit.
No one should be up at this hour. Yet noise laced with voices rippled from the square like waves. One stood out, too familiar. "Let go! You crazy bastard?" Toti's voice. Sprinting through the alley, I rounded the square's corner. The scene snapped into focus.
Square's center. The Poacher Leader gripped Toti's nape with his left hand. Short curved sword in his right. Two underlings stood behind with packs; beyond them, five or six more with torches and gear. They'd grabbed her as a guide while prepping to leave.
"Just show us the path. No fuss." The sword tip hovered under Toti's chin, glinting coldly. A few nearby windows cracked open, but no villager had the guts to face nine armed men. "Two days to the peak. Done, you're free."
Toti's red hair bunched in his fist. Her face burned more with rage than fear, but the blade at her throat left no room for struggle. Just walk past. Ignore it. Should. Survival first—unnecessary meddling risked exposure. Rational, perfect call. Yet my feet were already moving. Well, cave's gone anyway. No point in them climbing, no need for a guide. Might as well let them know that. —Rationalizing like that, but I was already striding into the square's heart.
"Remove that hand." A low voice drifted from the deep-hooded cloak. The leader whipped his head around. In the dim predawn, a tall figure in blue cloak approached. His eyes narrowed. "Ah. The spoon-poking bastard from the tavern."
I kept walking, no reply. Five steps. Four. Three. He aimed his curved sword at me, still clutching Toti's nape. "Interfere, and you're first." The blade barred my chest, gleaming thin in the morning light. One more step. I raised my index finger, flicked the flat of the blade lightly.
Tsk. A short scrape of nail on steel. Bam! The sword tore from his grip, slamming vertically into the ground. Tip burrowed between square stones, hilt quivering upright. Half the blade sank into the pavement.
"—." His hand froze midair. The palm that gripped it swelled red. Wrist joint must've taken a hell of a shock. The square went dead silent. His two underlings reached for weapons in sync. The extras trembled, torches flaring wild as they braced.
Nine against one. Numbers weren't the issue. More witnesses were. Just a taste. I cracked the seal layered around my heart. A hair-thin slit, finer than a crack. The wind died. Leader's breath hitched. One underling dropped his half-drawn hilt. Torch-bearer's arm shook uncontrollably, flames dancing mad.
Presence is simple. Predator's aura crushes prey's instincts. Result? One impulse—flee. Not enough to faint. Just raw terror to bolt. I held it at that razor edge. No words. Just stared down from the hood's shadow.
Color drained from the leader's face. Knees buckled, legs shook. His grip on Toti's nape slackened, slipped away. No strength left even for that. Toti staggered free. "Scram." One word. His lips quivered. Tried to speak, but no sound came. Finally, ignoring the embedded sword, he turned and stumbled off. Underlings followed. Extras too. Walk turned to jog, then sprint—gone around the corner in seconds. Only the quivering hilt remained.
I resealed the slit. Wind returned, dawn air slowly filling the square. Windows shut with soft clicks left and right. Toti stood three paces off. No fall, but lips clamped unnaturally tight for her. Freckled face pale, herb pouch gripped in a faint tremble. Not hit by Presence—she's immune. Just the shock of it all.
"Hurt?" "......No." She shook her head slow. Eyes flicked between the embedded sword and my hand. "Young master." "Yeah." "You just flicked that sword with a finger and stabbed it into the ground?" "Wind helped a bit." "That wind, huh." Toti huffed a dry laugh. Smile didn't reach her eyes. Trembling hand on pouch—she shoved it into her belt, other into her back pocket. Silence hung.
"Toti." "Yeah." "Don't go up the upper mountain for a while." Her eyes narrowed faintly. "Why?" "Magic beasts are off. Stone Armadillo Lizards foaming midway up. Screaming Bats too. Ones that swarm at that height, all comatose." No lie. Saw it myself. Her face shifted. Herbalist's curiosity sparked.
"Stone Armadillo Lizards foaming? They don't drop easy." "Exactly why it's dangerous. Don't know the cause." "......You know, young master? The cause." "Nope. That's why stay down." She bit her lip. Weighing curiosity against caution, plain as day. "Young master." "Yeah." "Me, I mean."
She stepped closer. "Honestly suspected that noble young master got-robbed story from the start." "Yeah." "But didn't pry. Know why?" I tilted my head faintly, playing dumb. "Figured digging deep might be risky." She said it flat, like chatting weather. "I'm an herbalist. Dig herbs in mountains, sell in village, eat. That's my lane. Nothing more."
Pulled her back-pocket hand out. "Debt's debt though. Don't forget, Bar young master. Inn bill, table damage—now this. Piled another one. Pay up alive." Open palm. Short nails stained with herb juice. I eyed it a beat. Shake, and it'd crush. Instead, tapped her palm lightly with my fingertip. "Will." She snorted. "Yeah. Definitely."
She turned. Dawn-lit red hair gleamed coppery. Back to village depths, lively as ever—but steps quicker than usual. Alone in the square. Gazed at the embedded sword. Yanked the blade from the stone cracks, propped it against the corner wall. Owner wouldn't return, but no kid tripping over it.
Suddenly, the air shifted. The southern mana waves I'd sensed descending from the summit. Dawn brightened them another notch. Still too faint for humans, but dragon senses read atmospheric mana density to the decimals. Alien pulses on the wind. From the south, still.
No need to pack at the inn. Nothing to pack anyway. Just the pilfered rags and three-silver cloak. Penniless dragon with debts stacked four deep. Stared south. Under dawn skies, invisible black waves spread like corrosion across the continent. Event absent from original. Mysterious massive mana anomaly. Magic beasts going mad under it. Holing up north, blind and deaf? No longer an option.
Have to check it out. See what it is. Pulled hood deeper. Headed for village south gate. Behind, morning smoke rose from Rune Village chimneys.