10. What Happened One Night - 14
"Huff... haah...!"
He ran through a forest steeped in darkness so thick he could not see an inch ahead. He ran, and ran, and ran some more. The middle-aged man drove himself forward, desperately ignoring a heart that felt as though it might rupture at any moment.
"Hraaah...!"
Behind him, there was no sound.
...All he felt was a spine-chilling presence, as if something were about to seize him by the nape of his neck, and a terrifying killing intent that promised to catch him and tear him to pieces moments later. He could not bring himself to look back. He had no room for such a thing. After all, few people anywhere in the world possessed the courage to stare their own death in the face.
"...Ha, ah...!"
He was afraid. Ever since becoming the leader of the 'Hunting Dogs' that House Sernad prided itself on, the middle-aged man had seen a great many things and endured all manner of experiences. There had been times when he crossed blades with a warrior who had reached the Master Realm and wielded Aura. There had been times when he drove a dagger into the nape of a mage who conjured all sorts of wondrous magic at their fingertips. And he had witnessed, on more than a few occasions, grotesque and hair-raising sights ordinary people could never glimpse, even if they died and came back to life.
Yet even through his eyes, the being before him—that girl with snow-white hair and matching white eyes—was something beyond the reach of words. She was the pinnacle of irrationality itself. She was an existence that defied every piece of common sense he had ever known. She was a monster in the truest sense.
...No, even the word monster could never suffice. She was something beyond all reason. She was a storm made flesh. She was akin to a natural disaster—something that could not be opposed by a human body, something one was not even permitted to fight against.
That no attack or resistance would work against her was a fact he already knew, burned painfully into his bones. Moments ago, he had swung the Lightning Sword Carbella with every ounce of his strength against her. But when she merely flicked her hand as though shooing away a fly, every one of his strikes had been rendered utterly powerless.
And at that moment, every shred of fighting spirit the middle-aged man possessed toward the white-haired girl evaporated. What else could he have done? When your attacks do nothing to the enemy, and taking a single hit from them means certain death, the very act of fighting her is nothing but folly. That was the sheer magnitude of the gap that existed between her and the Hunting Dogs—himself included.
So he fled. He ran without looking back. Desperately pretending not to hear the screams of the Hunting Dogs ringing out behind him, he clenched his jaw and tore through the forest as if to shake off the encroaching dread.
...And when the last of those screams faded, and silence reclaimed the woods, the middle-aged man understood it in his bones. Of everyone who had stepped into this forest alongside him, he was the only one still breathing.
"...Ha."
That the Hunting Dogs had been wiped out was not the least bit lamentable. They had been nothing more than disposable assets—orphans scraped off the streets like junk and molded into tools. If sacrificing such lowly creatures meant that he, a bearer of Sernad's noble blood, could survive, then it was nothing but a bargain.
The only thing that mattered now was that the screams of the Hunting Dogs had all fallen silent—and that monster's attention had turned toward him—!
"Ha... haah...!"
So he ran. He kept running. He ran on, ignoring how his heart seemed about to burst. He never stopped, not even for a moment, staring only ahead—and yet the ominous presence at his back was steadily closing in with every passing second. No doubt the moment his stamina gave out—the very instant his pace slackened even slightly—the reaper would snatch him by the neck.
He could feel it. That presence the white-haired girl was giving off—he could feel it even here. She had no intention of hiding it from him. To Aria, all of this was nothing but sport. Nothing but a hunt. She was herding him toward some corner, as casually as a hunter driving game.
The middle-aged man knew full well that he was being herded. But there was no other choice. Wasn't being driven like prey still better than being caught by that monster and killed in a single blow?
".....!"
In the next instant, a truly horrific killing intent erupted behind him. At the same moment, the earth itself shuddered as if screaming. Convinced that this was the end, the middle-aged man clenched his eyes shut—
"...Huh?"
The killing intent vanished—cleanly, as though it had never existed at all. As though everything had been nothing more than a brief daydream.
"....."
Only then did his senses return. When he came to his senses, he had arrived in some kind of clearing. This place had to be the destination—the very spot the white-haired girl had been driving him toward. As he warily swept his gaze across his surroundings, a woman's figure entered his view—one he knew all too well.
"...Sarah...!"
The moment he saw the face of his beloved niece, the world around him snapped from unreality back into the mundane. The first thing the middle-aged man felt upon seeing Sarah's face was rage. Yes—every bit of this had happened because of that cursed niece of his. It was because of that girl—who had nothing to recommend her but a pretty face—that he had been reduced to this wretched state.
If Sarah hadn't gotten herself kidnapped from the Dekaraznan Ducal House in the first place, he would never have entered this forest, never would have encountered that monster, and the Hunting Dogs would never have been slaughtered. So all of it was her fault. Everything—!
"...My, what a charmed life you lead. Lounging around so carefree in a place like this."
Having exhausted every last bit of stamina fleeing from Aria, the middle-aged man's voice came out as little more than a rasping growl. But the fact that his strength was gone no longer mattered. Only one thing mattered now: he was unspeakably furious, and a target on which to vent that fury had conveniently presented itself right before his eyes.
"...Uncle. So you did make it here after all. You made it all this way, sacrificing all those people, just to hunt down one girl."
Sarah looked up at him with a gaze that was somehow melancholy. The middle-aged man twisted the corners of his mouth upward and answered.
"Yes. House Sernad can hardly afford to lose a 'commodity' like you so easily. You know it as well as I do, Sarah—how much effort we poured into cultivating you, making you so very valuable. At the very least, we can't let you slip from our grasp now, not when we haven't yet sold you off at the most opportune moment, for the highest possible price."
Having said this, he let out a dry laugh, as though struck by a sudden realization.
"Kheh-heh. Still, you're awfully composed, aren't you? Why, anyone watching might think you hadn't been kidnapped at all—just out for an evening stroll, so perfectly at ease. Almost as if this whole situation were something you engineered yourself."
"....."
Sarah neither affirmed nor denied his words. She remained still—and the middle-aged man's eyebrows shot upward.
"I knew it. So that's how it is. Sarah, you've lost your mind. Just because you couldn't stomach spreading your legs once, you went and dragged a monster like that into this? How precious. How darling. Tell me, did it feel good? All the damage House Sernad took thanks to your childish antics—did watching me suffer humiliation in a place like this finally satisfy you? Huh!"
The middle-aged man's face had turned crimson with blazing fury as he stomped toward her. Yet Sarah did not so much as blink. She simply looked at him and spoke.
"...Uncle. For the sake of whatever bond of blood we've shared all these years, let me offer you a final piece of advice. It's not too late. Even now, it's not too late. Turn around and get out of this forest. If you do, I promise you my word—no one will chase after you."
She looked completely self-assured on the surface. But he caught it—the faintest tremor at the tail end of her voice. The middle-aged man smiled inwardly, a leer spreading through his thoughts. This girl might be putting on a brave front, but she was clearly terrified of him. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, he couldn't help but notice.
...After all, he was the one who had overseen Sarah's 'discipline' for the past dozen or so years.
Now he was certain. In this place, he was the overwhelming authority. The moment he realized that, vitality surged back through the middle-aged man's body.
"...Insolent little...!"
A nasty smile crept across his lips. There was no need for further talk. First, he'd slap that arrogant attitude off her face a few times. Then he'd start a real 'conversation'—in the truest sense of the word—
"...I knew it well enough already, but you truly are a piece of garbage, aren't you? Is that really the only way you know how to treat your own niece?"
Tilt—
In the next instant, the middle-aged man's field of vision tilted sideways. The horizon lurched. Sarah was still standing upright on solid ground, even now. So why was his own line of sight plunging toward the dirt?
"Ah."
No. The horizon hadn't tilted. It was simply a trivial little matter—one of his ankles had been severed. That was why he'd lost his balance and toppled forward in such an unsightly heap.
"Aaaaargh!"
It hurt. The moment he registered that his ankle had been cut off, searing pain came crashing over him, as though the wound itself were on fire. It hurt. It hurt so much. Why in the world did he have to feel agony like this in a place like this? Why—!
"Now this is rich. You were about to slap Sarah across the face without a moment's hesitation, and now you're losing your mind over one severed ankle? They say only a man who knows his own pain can fathom another's pain, but looking at you, that's clearly bullshit."
Right beside the middle-aged man—who was clutching his ankle and screaming—came the sound of someone chuckling, a laugh that grated against the nerves. Fighting through the pain, he barely managed to turn his head. Standing there was a young man whose face the middle-aged man also knew very well.
"...Kain von Estel...! You...!"
He snarled the name. Kain let out a short laugh and pressed one of the middle-aged man's fingers under the sole of his boot.
Crack—
"Gaaahk!"
"Your tongue's awfully loose, Gale Sernad. The man standing in front of you is the sole heir to one of the empire's four ducal houses. At your age, you haven't even managed to split off a branch family from House Sernad—you're just a failure skulking around doing the family's dirty work. Don't you think the gap in our stations is a little too wide for you to be tossing my name around so casually?"
Watching Kain address him that way, the middle-aged man found himself grinding his teeth. Yes—now the pieces were beginning to click together inside his skull. Earlier, that monster had called herself a maid of House Estel. That monster had clearly told him that she had a master whom she served.
At the time, he had dismissed it as nothing but empty boasting, but now that Kain von Estel had shown himself before his very eyes, he had no choice but to accept it.
The mastermind behind Sarah's kidnapping. The master of that monster who had slaughtered Sernad's Hunting Dogs. And the true architect hiding behind that girl—the one who had driven him all the way to this place—was none other than—
"...So it was all your doing. Kain von Estel."
"Sharp one, aren't you? Took you until now to catch on."
When Kain admitted it so readily, almost mockingly, the middle-aged man stared at Kain's face, his breath coming in ragged pants.
"...What's your goal? What is your real objective? Did the Debharts put you up to this? Was all that pretending to be a fool—running around with that idiot act—just a disguise to conceal your true self, all for this moment?"
"....."
The word 'fool' made Kain bristle for a moment, but then he furrowed his brow as though something didn't add up.
"...Debhart? You mean the Imperial Household? Why in the world would the Imperial Household come into this?"
"Keh—still playing dumb, even now? Everyone knows, tacitly, that Estel is nothing but the Debharts' tamed dog. The fact that a paltry house like House Estel has a monster like that in its service is itself proof that you enjoy their favor, is it not?"
The middle-aged man spoke between labored breaths. Only then, grasping what the man was trying to say, did Kain burst into loud laughter.
"Wow, and here I thought you were on to something. Seems you've been imagining some grand, elaborate conspiracy. The truth is, my real objective is tiny. Small. Trivial, even. It's nothing but personal motivation."
"...Personal?"
Was there some private grudge between House Sernad and House Estel? Where, exactly?
"Because you're a piece of shit."
"...What?"
For a moment, the middle-aged man could not comprehend the words Kain had just spoken to him.
"I got so fucking sick of the way you—the way House Sernad—treats Sarah that I couldn't stomach it anymore. So I figured, I might as well give you a taste of your own medicine. You son of a bitch."