Anomaly on the Western Front (4)
"…It was a strategic judgment."
Kriel put some weight into his words. He didn't want to come off like he was making excuses. But despite his earnest performance, Orishin's lukewarm 'Ah, I see' gaze pierced his heart like a dagger.
"Couldn't the Wild Hunt detect Arunback—and by extension, the automatons? The automatons, existing in the same era, might have ways to detect the Wild Hunt too. How else would Arunback know about the Wraith King's ancient oath?"
Arunback might have heard about that ancient oath from the Totality itself? That's plausible.
Orishin nodded. The Evil Dragon slumbered, and the Wild Hunt merely wandered the boundary between Tirnanog and the Abyss unless its conditions were met. Though blocked by the Western Army, the automatons firmly rooted in Tirnanog would surely outclass the other two calamities in terms of information alone. They must have inherited wisdom from their creators too.
So, master. Ride or not?
"Gotta ride. Aerial scouting is twice as efficient as ground visual observation."
Kriel confirmed the automaton wave hadn't reached him yet. Honestly, the excuse he'd fed Orishin at first was just a spur-of-the-moment cover—he hadn't wanted to admit the pathetic truth that he'd forgotten because he'd never ridden a horse before. But on second thought, it wasn't strange if the automatons, inheritors of ancient dwarf knowledge, had some way to detect the Wild Hunt. After all, the automatons were born from the ancient dwarves' shock at witnessing the Wraith King and Wild Hunt's downfall during their living era. Wouldn't those dwarves have tried to track down those lost souls between life and death?
Whether his hard run had paid off, even the Dark Knight's vision piercing the darkness revealed no hidden automatons. To be cautious, Kriel asked Orishin.
"Orishin. Any automatons around?"
Uh, I can sense purity and impurity in souls, but those scrap heaps aren't my specialty. They're kinda pure in their own way, though. Purely insane, that is. Tuon.
Master. That vulgar curved blade fears losing its place to me. Do not hesitate—mount up.
No! When did I ever say that?!
Thy body spake it, if not thy lips!
Kriel nodded along as the two swords bickered. Should've just called the horse without chatting.
A shadow rein was tossed into the air. It didn't fall to the ground but melted away in midair. From the severed neck stump, black, soot-like blood dripped as the headless steed manifested.
Kriel mounted with practiced ease. Orishin muttered at the sight.
No neck, so can't even tie a rein…!
A legless horse that can't even run?
Orishin let out a choked kerhk.
'What in the world…!'
Suddenly, the mad machines sprang into action. At first, he'd thought it a stroke of luck. A massive clash between the automatons and Western Army would let him slip into automaton territory amid the chaos.
But the automatons didn't charge the Western Army. Attacking humans was rare for automatons—almost freakish. Yet the mage knew the conditions for such behavior.
The automatons' mission was the permanent purification of the Abyss encroaching on Tirnanog. They'd chosen the extermination of life as their means. But extermination prevented Abyss corruption. If a corrupted source appeared before them, the Totality would prioritize deletion without delay. Removing infection outranked purging life.
"What idiot…!"
The mage knew he wasn't the only one who could deal with demons. He wasn't chosen by the Abyss—he'd chosen it as a tool. Anyone with firm purpose and ambition could bargain with the Abyss, chasing traces of the Seven Great Demonic Weapons like him. That was expected.
He just hadn't anticipated some foolhardy rival getting spotted by the automatons!
Instead of raging, the mage sighed and pondered. What demon had leaked info on the Seven Great Demonic Weapons? Top suspect: Great Demon Grikenkos, who'd branded him with the pursuit curse.
"That sly bastard wouldn't hesitate to back others besides me."
He'd probe it next time they met. With Grikenkos's forces shrinking lately, expansion made sense.
For now, escape this spot. Clashing head-on with that horde wasn't wise. Just as he tried to recover his water shadow minions—
The connection snapped again. Automatons were disadvantaged against water shadows by nature. Among the finely crafted higher automatons, few wielded magic. Most relied on physical attacks—refined blades and sharp bullets tore human flesh well enough but couldn't dismantle water shadow spells.
Better odds someone deliberately destroyed the water shadows than one rare magic puppet spotting them amid the horde.
'Then who? Another hunter of the Seven Great Demonic Weapons?'
If they'd pinpointed him and provoked the Totality to hinder his pursuit…! Time to reassess the foe's capabilities.
Footsteps approached from afar—the direction of the destroyed water shadow.
"Spare me!"
A girl's voice. A red-haired figure dashed toward the mage.
With sunken eyes, he observed the approaching giant. 'Civilians on the Western Front?' Not unusual. Sneaky folk slipped past lines to scavenge ruins inside the mountains—military headaches. Ancient dwarf relics fetched high prices from collectors. Desperate border folk, overconfident in survival and underrating the army, gambled lives daily.
But.
Without hesitation, the mage formed hand seals. Destructive fire condensed at his chest. A flame spear lanced toward the girl-thing.
Facing incineration that left no ash, she didn't flinch. Mana lines shot from her right hand, etching a complex magic circle that formed a barrier against the flames.
With emotionless eyes, she asked, "What seems to be the problem?" Her tone oddly detached, like relaying someone else's question.
Not breaking eye contact, the mage replied, "Foolish. Even scrap-hunters inside the front lines head home at dusk. Mining the night front isn't gambling—it's suicide."
"Cannot fully trust Abyss kin's views, so must secure more standard intelligent life samples for comparison? 'Standard intelligence'… Understood."
She kept conversing with someone. Madness or demonic patron? Unclear.
"Your input logged as lowest priority reference."
Indulging her eerie requests suggested insanity. Demon-talkers didn't last long. Abyss contractors treated madness like a chronic cold—and crazier ones were stronger.
The mage readied for battle.
"Good try mobilizing automatons to disrupt my hunt. But they can't easily destroy water shadows. That was your mistake."
He planned to subdue it, toss to the scrap to divert attention. Satisfied with a deleted Abyss seed, the automatons would revert to peacetime—perfect infiltration window.
Unexpectedly, the girl-thing smiled. "Really?"
Red lights flickered behind her—one, two, three… Over a hundred crimson glows in seconds. Automaton red eyes.
"Ours?"
Hiding in the night sky, Kriel peered down—no special stealth magic needed; black horse and armor were camouflage enough.
The disordered automaton horde gained direction, converging on one point. He turned to the noise at their edge—not mere troop movement, but clear combat bursts. Mana flares flashed. Steel blades clashed with Abyss magic in destruction.
A suspicious masked mage. A girl before him, surrounded by automaton wreckage.
Arunback.
Tuon whispered softly.
Huh? That mage? Still clinging to a flesh body? Why fight the automatons?
Nay. I sense the soul-fragrance I once severed from the mage's foe.
Orishin closely observed the girl battling the mage. Red hair, youthful face. But beneath torn flesh from magic spears gleamed cold steel tubes. An automaton doll, uncannily human-like—even chest rising and falling with breaths meticulously crafted.
Gender-bent mech-loli? What kinda tastes does the Totality have…?
The Totality had merely prepared varied puppets for situations, oblivious to the accusation and thus without defense.