Misalignment (3)
The ruler of the Landfill District—Druggy Hakan.
Najin knew almost nothing about her. The drug-addict was a figure whose gender, age, personal details, and appearance had never been known to anyone.
"You know who I am?"
In other words, all Najin knew about the drug-addict was that she was an alchemist—and that she was a powerhouse who could stand shoulder to shoulder with Ivan.
Limited information, but…
Those few facts were enough. More than enough to connect the woman in front of him with the drug-addict.
"Druggy."
The crushing pressure on his shoulders and the razor-edged tension in his senses told Najin the answer.
"Druggy Hakan."
Calling it out, he settled into his stance.
At that, the woman smirked. She stretched her lips into a long, upward curl and narrowed her eyes. Glaring at him through half-lidded pupils, she spoke.
"Good instincts. Quick on the uptake, too. But the conclusion you landed on doesn't sit well with me."
She did not deny his guess.
Druggy Hakan stretched out a finger and pointed at the blade Najin had leveled at her.
"Not running? You seemed pretty sure. If I'm Druggy Hakan like you say, shouldn't you be running?"
A powerhouse on par with Ivan and Horce.
If he had come face-to-face with strength he could not handle, wasn't fleeing the right call? That was her challenge.
"Ivan's rule is that if a rival boss steps into our territory, you take them down first and ask questions later."
"And that Ivan of yours is away right now, isn't he?"
So she knew he was gone.
The backer Horce had been relying on—had that been Druggy Hakan? Recalling how Horce's lieutenant had just exploded and died, it hardly seemed like a cooperative relationship…
…Still. Either way.
Najin gripped the sword Ivan had entrusted to him tight.
"Rules are rules."
"What an unnecessarily diligent little brat."
Hakan shrugged and snapped her fingers.
Zzzrrrrrr—the noise rang out again. The people standing behind her with their heads lolling as if high on drugs reacted to the sound.
They looked at their master, Hakan.
Then at the tip of the finger she had stretched out.
Where her finger pointed was Najin. And then they charged. Dozens of addicts, high on drugs, blood streaming from their eyes and ears. Staring them down, Najin let out a long breath.
That he had not left this place was not simply because of Ivan's rule. It was intuition. The farther he got from Druggy Hakan, the more dangerous things would become.
There were a lot of them.
Najin's eyes darted rapidly.
The addicts surrounding Druggy Hakan and driving him back numbered well over twenty even at a rough count. That was just what he could see right now…
There's more behind them.
This was only the first wave.
He could sense more presence behind Hakan. And that was not all. Judging by the screams echoing across the city and the explosion he had heard moments ago, the numbers might exceed a hundred.
Ivan and Oppen were away.
No support from the organization could be expected.
On top of that, information on the enemy was scarce.
If this was a worst-case scenario, it was the worst. A life-or-death crisis, and all he held in his hand was a single sword.
But it's no ordinary sword.
The sword Ivan had tossed him before leaving.
It was a famed blade of a different caliber from the swords Najin usually used—and it was a sword that meant he had proven his worth to Ivan.
Najin's rapidly moving eyes stopped. Where they settled was Hakan, standing beyond the addicts.
The addicts moved on Hakan's orders, and the one who had caused this situation was Hakan herself. Ivan had always said it: on the battlefield, the first thing you take down is the commander—the one in charge. For a moment, Najin's sunset-colored eyes gleamed.
Bang!
Najin kicked off the ground and charged.
A burst of acceleration in an instant. Closing the distance in a flash, he swung his sword at the throat of the addict blocking his path. Shhk. Blood sprayed along the smooth arc of the blade.
Tremble.
The moment the neck was severed, the addict's body convulsed hard. The body began to swell. Without hesitation, Najin kicked the headless corpse away.
KABOOM!
Several addicts were caught in the blast. Arms torn off, a leg blown away—yet they charged at Najin as if they felt no pain at all. At the sight, he frowned, if only slightly.
Like looking at undead out of a fairy tale…
Alive or dead?
The stench of rotting corpses filled his nose—decaying humans. Some of them were corpses. Whether all of them were, he could not know. The situation was not good enough to dwell on what he did not know.
Instead of thinking, Najin assessed the situation and acted.
Blast radius is about three paces.
Timing of the explosion?
Within two seconds of the convulsions.
Conditions for exploding?
It went off when he severed the neck and killed them cleanly. But there was no guarantee they would not explode while still alive. So he had to maintain at least a three-pace gap.
Assess the situation. Organize the information.
All that remained was to move.
Najin dragged his sword low. How to handle multiple opponents was the first thing he had learned from Ivan.
"No matter how good your talent and instincts are."
"Until you start handling mana properly, a knife in the gut still kills you the same. So what do you do?"
Things he had used again and again.
Tactics carved into his body working as an executioner.
"One: cut off approach."
The sword he dragged low swept through the addicts' ankles. Shhk—some had their ankles severed entirely; others had them gouged deep enough they could not stand. Four addicts fell, blocking the path.
"Two: draw them into a narrow space."
It was a narrow alley, open behind him.
The enemy was only coming from the front, and the four who had fallen delayed the rear ranks from pushing through.
"Once you've done that, what's left?"
"You know, don't you? You've already learned it."
Do what you do best.
Judge moment to moment and drive in the best play.
The moment the rear ranks tried to clamber over the fallen addicts, Najin's sword swept across the napes of the ones being trampled. Right after the swing, he leapt far back.
KABOOOOOM!
The legs—or ankles—of those caught close in the blast were blown off. The fallen bodies piled up, blocking the path again. The roar that pounded his eardrums, the spraying blood, and the flesh of what had once been human.
It was not a sight for open eyes.
Even Najin, who had been sick of watching people die since childhood, found the scene stomach-churning. He wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand and kicked off the ground.
In the narrow alley, Najin's sword flashed. Cutting down or kicking away anyone who came within three paces, he tried to close the distance on Hakan.
But the distance would not close.
They're coming. Constantly.
The numbers kept growing.
No matter how hard he pushed them back, they crushed him with sheer numbers. Najin, who had been stepping forward, at some point began to give ground.
One step, two steps, three…
At this rate he would be forced out of the alley.
Into open space—a space where he could be surrounded—and that would be the end. Najin gritted his teeth. Ivan would not have been like this. Ivan would have been faster, more decisive…
So.
Tak.
Like this.
Shhk.
In a flash, Najin drove in and swung his sword like Ivan. His body moved along the optimal path he had only ever drawn in his mind, and the blade flashed. Najin's eyes went wide.
This again.
That strange sensation pushing his body.
It was not something Najin could control. It rose unconsciously, reflexively.
But…
He needed that movement to break the situation.
Najin glared at Hakan standing beyond the surging throng of addicts.
"…"
She was just looking up at the sky without a word. Which meant she did not even recognize him as a proper enemy.
She was not going all out.
Eyes that looked past him to what came next.
That fact made Najin a little angry. The sight of a powerhouse who would not even acknowledge him made irritation rise in his chest.
Let's see how long you can stay that relaxed.
Najin moved with awareness of the sensation from a moment ago. Drawing the optimal path in his mind, he stepped forward. And the moment the flow shoved him from behind—
Clunk.
Something caught inside him with a hard jolt.
"…!"
The flow pushing his back vanished.
His accelerating body returned to its own speed. In that instant, a gap opened between the movement he had drawn in his mind and the movement of his body.
What Najin had drawn in his mind was drive in, swing, take one step back. But with the acceleration gone, his body locked up the moment he swung the sword.
Tremble-tremble-tremble.
A corpse convulsing as it poured blood. The precursor to explosion. Najin threw himself backward in a hurry, but he was a beat too late.
KABOOM!
The blast shoved him rolling across the ground.
He barely got clear of the radius, but it had been so close he was caught in the shockwave. Rolling up to his feet, Najin gasped for breath. His whole body throbbed.
What went wrong?
That clunking catch.
It was not a physical catch. Something closer to a psychological factor. The moment he recognized it, a voice echoed in his ears.
Don't cross the line.
Live with what's given to you.
Don't reach for what you can't touch.
Those were the words Ivan had always spoken.
Words Najin had repeated to himself again and again whenever he gave up, whenever he resigned himself. And now they had become the shackles gripping his ankles.
…Shackles Najin had fastened on himself.
Mana and sword aura were things he must not handle.
Even if he could see how to use them, he must not reach for them. Najin had always thought so. They existed outside the line Ivan had drawn.
Even though he had the ability to cross the line.
Najin had feared Ivan and never crossed it.
Unconsciously, he had limited his own actions.
Things he could seize if he just took one step forward, if he just reached out. But things he could not touch without crossing the line. Those were exactly what Najin needed now.
What the boy needed was the courage to step over the line.
But shackles do not break easily.
Shackles worn for so long had already become part of Najin himself. He felt the scar on his shoulder throb. Backing away, he exhaled.
"…"
Retreating, Najin suddenly looked at the sword in his hand.
The sword Ivan had left him.
"…Ha."
He let out a laugh without meaning to.
What had he been hesitating for?
Receiving this sword was permission itself.
Permission to cross the line.
Najin lifted his foot. With that raised foot he stomped hard on the line he had unconsciously drawn. Shattering the shackles on his ankles, he took one step forward. In that moment his body accelerated.
Kiiing.
The flow shoved his body.
Nothing caught with a clunk anymore. His body moved smoothly, swiftly. The movement drawn in his mind and the movement of his body overlapped completely.
Shhk.
The sword that sucked in along a clean arc opened the path. Falling corpses trembled and prepared to explode, but by the time they showed the precursor, Najin was already gone from that spot. Yet he did not retreat either.
Najin leapt.
Bang—kicking off the narrow alley's wall, he soared upward. A movement impossible with human leg strength. A movement possible only with mana's aid.
Landing, swinging the sword, and the moment the addicts convulsed, he kicked off the wall and leapt again. Never giving ground, he cut down the surging addicts and closed on the drug-addict.
Crack.
Najin kicked off the wall and leapt high.
High in the air, he raised his sword until it was level with the sky—as if mimicking Ivan's sword salute.
The boy who had crossed the line reaches out.
Where the boy reaches, there is light.
Something he had unconsciously believed he must not seize, something he had seen and still not grasped.
Clench.
The moment he reached out and seized it, power flooded into the hand gripping the sword. The flow that had been shoving Najin's body rode his fingers and sank into the blade.
Flash.
Najin's sword flared hard.
What settled on the blade was pure white light.
It did not yet have a color of its own, and it did not fully cloak the edge… but the white radiance in the blade was unmistakably a fragment of sword aura.
Najin drew it out consciously.
Not unconscious, not chance, not instinctive movement—light kindled by his will alone.
In the dark alley the ore lamps could not reach, the white sword aura on the boy's blade shone brilliantly.
Druggy Hakan sneered.
The boy who had been charging her had finally been swallowed by the throng of addicts and vanished from sight. His movements had been decent enough, but not enough to break through her forces.
He would thrash a little and go down.
Rumor said he was a brat Ivan doted on—bring the corpse and Ivan would surely be pleased.
No hitches in the plan.
She had gathered the corpses discarded into the Landfill and made living bombs. Over a long time she had swallowed Horce's territory and addicted Horce, bringing him under her.
And at last she had succeeded in using Horce as bait to lure Ivan and Oppen out.
A plan prepared over many long years. But Hakan did not think a trap of that level alone could finish Ivan. Ivan did not know Hakan, but Hakan knew Ivan.
Ivan, knight of Atanga.
Hakan knew how tenacious and stubborn the knights of Atanga were. He would definitely break through the trap and return here.
So I finish the occupation before then.
Occupy the Central District where Ivan's residence was, and force a war of attrition on him. That would make the war hers. It would mean every district of the subterranean city of Atman under her rule.
What she had prepared for so long.
If she could only achieve that plan…
"…"
Hakan raised her head without a word.
She looked up at the ceiling of the underground city. Driven from the workshop at a young age and cast down into the subterranean city… but she had once been called a genius, spoken of as the next master of the workshop.
As was true of those who lived in this city.
She, too, could not forget those glorious days.
Druggy Hakan wanted to shine once more as an alchemist of the Alchemy Workshop. Conquering the entire city was only a process—not her destination. She smiled as she looked toward something farther.
It was not far off.
The day she would leave this city full of abandoned things, of trash, was near. And that was when, as she gazed upward—
Tak.
Najin kicked off the alley wall and leapt. Hakan's view, which had been fixed on the passage to the upper district, was blocked by Najin. Before she could even feel displeasure at that fact—
Flash.
Najin's sword blazed.
In a place full of abandoned things, in an alley thick with darkness, in this city full of nothing but trash, the sword the boy held scattered pure white radiance.
Like a star hanging in the sky.
The moment she faced the light, Hakan's eyes went wide. Shining things. Variables that could affect her plan. She had thought she had eliminated every last one of them—yet one light still remained here.
"…I didn't account for this."
To think he had been hiding something like that.
Thinking she had taken a hit from Ivan, Hakan let out a hollow laugh.
Until a moment ago the boy had been worthless trash.
But the boy who had kindled light now was a clear variable.
Druggy Hakan no longer looked at the sky, or at what came next in her plan. Staring straight at the boy before her eyes, she cut her forearm with a dagger. The blood that fell along her arm hit the floor with a sizzle and vaporized.
In an instant a thick scent filled the alley.
It meant Hakan had drawn a card she had kept hidden—and that she had acknowledged the boy before her as a true opponent.