(-5) - Fugitive
This is a side story.
When the world goes mad, those who don't lose their minds alongside it can't live their lives fully. This held true whether in the Empire, the Holy Kingdom, or even the demonic realms.
No one batted an eye anymore when an innocent citizen was stabbed by a robber on the street and left to die. Bribing your boss or a noble for a promotion had become standard practice. Families starving with nothing to eat saw nothing wrong with selling off the youngest child to a slave trader first. Everyone knew deep down this wasn't normal—but no individual had the power to condemn the state of things.
They simply adapted. Accepted it.
The man who introduced himself as Raven, scraping by day-to-day hunting rabbits in the Sisiela Mountains, was just one of countless souls like that. But in this era of utter chaos, where madmen were a dime a dozen, he was certain no one was crazier than the woman fiddling with pebbles right in front of him.
"Hunt a dragon? You serious?"
"To suppress this erosion, I need a Dragonheart."
"Pfft, anyone can talk big. Plenty of ways to off yourself, too."
Raven snorted derisively. Declaring you'd hunt a dragon was tantamount to challenging the gods with deicide—solo, no less.
Watching her tear into the rabbit meat without a care, he decided to lose interest right then. She's lost her marbles.
Born that way? Or driven mad by circumstances that left no other choice? From what Raven knew, both types abounded in numbers beyond counting. Most survivors of the brutal wars and this "erosion" disaster acted like they were missing a few screws.
And amid it all, her beauty outshone any woman he'd ever seen—drawing his gaze back despite his best efforts to look away.
"No trouble getting here? No one bother you...?"
Raven's words came from genuine concern. In these times, beauty like hers was poison.
Kaizen's eastern reaches lay beyond the Emperor's grasp—a lawless wasteland. Countless women had been raped and buried alive by the brutish eastern barbarians who prized strength over all. No matter the injustice, without the power to defend yourself, you'd suffer the consequences.
"Do I look weak to you?"
"Confident in your fighting skills, then?"
"Haven't gotten beat up anywhere. That was good. This rabbit meat's delicious."
She spat a bone shard into the campfire with a plink.
Raven shoved more firewood in, coaxing the dying flames back to life. He belatedly grabbed a hind leg for himself, took a bite—and grimaced fiercely.
"Definitely nuts."
Miasma-tainted meat. Fine in small doses, but this thoroughly soaked stuff didn't lose its bitterness even when cooked.
Staring at his empty dinner prospects, Raven's eyes drifted to the woman's hands rattling the pebbles.
"What's with those stones you've been messing with?"
"These? They're called jacks."
"Jacks? Never heard of 'em."
"Fun game from my hometown. Wanna see?"
Clatter—she sat on the rough dirt and tossed five pebbles down. Her robe parted, revealing slender white arms.
With graceful handiwork, she demonstrated the trick of tossing and catching.
"Fun, right?"
"You find fun in everything, huh. Yeah, street kids would love it."
"Advantage is you can play with rolling stones, too."
She brushed off his sarcasm. Tossing them high as treetops, she played with evident delight—prompting Raven to ask:
"What are those made of, anyway?"
"Don't call 'em stone lumps, that's rude. These are pricey artifacts."
"To me, they just look like plain rock or glass shards."
"Artifacts. Storage ones, even. Each holds rare treasures. Curious what's inside?"
"Hoh... I'd be lying if I said no. Gonna show me?"
He hadn't noticed in the dark before, but examining them closely now, they did seem like artifacts, just as she claimed.
"Answer my questions, and I'll reveal one each time. Deal?"
"I'll answer what I know."
The hunter fell for the tantalizing bait without a second thought.
She'd expected as much, pondering her first question.
"How long since the erosion hit the Sisiela Mountains?"
"Erosion? Which one—the one turning animals to stone, or the one mutating them into miasma beasts?"
"Both, if you can."
"First one's about three years, far as I know. Second hit exactly twenty months ago."
"Twenty months... Got it. Helpful info."
"Glad to hear it."
She infused mana into a faintly red jack and tapped it. It clicked open, twelve portable magic circles forming a dodecahedron and activating. Reaching in, she pulled out something enigmatic, holding it to the firelight.
"What's this?"
"Pink diamond ring."
"That whole huge thing's diamond?"
Raven gawked. No one could see such a gem without greed stirring. The stone wasn't fingernail-sized—it dwarfed a big toe. The ring's shoulders and mount were masterfully wrought, defying any claim of fakery.
"Name's Agnes's Tear. Prized treasure of the current Prague Empire's Empress."
"Em... Em... Empress?"
"Wore it for the beauty at first, but it's heavy and uncomfortable."
"Don't joke. How'd you get something like that?"
She fixed him with a steady gaze.
"Next question okay?"
"...Shoot."
An inexplicable pressure made him swallow hard, gauging the mood.
"Animals aside, how do you handle the erosion?"
"Our villagers all got mana organ resection surgery."
"You mean the Aura Heart?"
"Smaller organ below it—don't know the exact name. Doc handled it. Lets us come and go from low-miasma spots no problem."
"Sounds like a great doctor."
"Best there was."
She produced the second artifact: a golden seal, phoenix intricately carved atop it.
"A seal, huh. Gilded gold—looks expensive at a glance."
"Dunno if it's pricey. Probably won't sell."
"What? Why not? Gold merchant would buy it, right?"
"Would he buy this? It's an imperial seal."
"Imperial seal? The imperial seal?"
She rubbed charred ash from the fire over the base. Raven protested the mistreatment of such a relic, but she ignored him. Pulling a sheet from her bosom, she spread it on the ground and thudded the seal down.
Kaizen Empire's sole sovereign's name etched in runes. The seal glowed, verifying the paper—but she pocketed it mid-process, denying him the conclusion.
"Third question. Okay?"
"..."
"Okay?"
"Ask away... No, please, go ahead..."
Cold sweat trickled down Raven's back. She was deranged, no doubt. But her madness was the sharp, dangerous kind.
From the neighboring Empress's ring to Airogen Emperor's seal—he finally grasped his predicament. No ordinary woman. One wrong move, and he might end up dead.
"How long since the Blue Dragon returned to its lair?"
"How should I—er, we—know that?!"
"You're a hunter and don't know?"
"Roughly... year and a half? Two years tops, my guess."
"Basis?"
"When orc and monster habitats shifted drastically."
"Fine reasoning. Helpful."
Despite his reluctance to know more, she dutifully revealed the third item.
"Won't know what this is, so I'll explain: Key to Heaven. Only way into Alpenheim Papal Treasury."
"How do you have... What are you?"
"That's your fourth question. Now, Blue Dragon's lair—where to find it? Time's short; answer quick."
"I don't know! Dragon lairs aren't fixed spots, are they?"
"I know. That's why I'm asking you. Never seen an empty one?"
"Ahem... About ten years back, a viscount's son gathered troops to hunt a dragon lair. Wiped out. Northeast from here, I hear."
"Bit disappointing, but fine. This one's interesting too—took real effort to steal, unlike the others."
Were the rest just picked up off the road? Raven's mutter didn't reach her, thankfully.
A sinister, dark-red glowing pendant appeared.
"Demon King Alzahab's. Don't know its use yet, but precious enough they're howling after me for it."
"Can I go now?"
"No—you've come this far; see the last one."
"Not curious anymore, so I'll just—"
"Sit."
Her low command brooked no argument. When he tried to bolt anyway, she kicked his lower back without hesitation.
He tumbled through the mud, protesting bitterly.
"I'm busy too...! You crossed Sisiela alone without camping gear, so I grilled meat, set up shelter! And this is how you repay kindness?!"
Estasha's black hair shifted to gold, reclaiming its true hue. Her irises blazed golden.
"Last question. Heard the infamous wanted man—twenty-odd murders, rapes, robberies—hid in Sisiela. Where do I find the blue-blooded half-dragon, Craven Gordon?"
To hunt parents, start with the child. One of the Empire's vile tactics against the princess.
"Not talking, huh."
"……."
No sane soul lived in Sisiela. Princess and hunter's gazes locked, intertwined.
It didn't take long for Craven Gordon's body to scale over entirely.
The two fugitives clashed.