Familiar Silhouettes

Familiar silhouettes. Shadows that showed up just when I was about to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forget them, staring right at me. They were clearly standing on two legs, humanoid shapes that looked almost human.

But they weren't human. There was nothing where their eyes, nose, and mouth should have been—just empty voids.

So what the hell were they? Phenomena that appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as suddenly. They didn't do anything special or threatening beyond turning toward me and staring. If I tried to get closer for a better look, they'd disappear like a mirage.

"……."

The distance between us had narrowed even more. They used to be so far away that I had to squint just to make out their outlines. Now they were close enough that I could be absolutely sure they had no facial features—and they were watching me from that range.

Or were they watching me? Without eyes, who could say if they were even looking?

I racked my memory. When had they started creeping closer like this? The desert, scorching heat and shimmering haze. Tattered, worn armor and that retreating back. Moss and dirt sacks. The mercenaries' rough but friendly banter. Sis. Deception and betrayal. Eyes wide with terror as darkness devoured them.

Yeah, eyes. They'd started getting closer right after I fed Dusty human eyes.

Why?

I had no idea. But the ominous feeling wouldn't go away. If organic veggies from some rural farm had caused this, fine—but feeding it human eyes brings shadows closer? Kinda thriller-esque.

"Dusty, what the hell is this?"

I asked Dusty. No matter how I looked at it, this had to be related to Dusty.

Wrrrr—

But Dusty just vibrated once, like it had no clue either.

Hmm...

What could it be? Under the dawning light of early morning, I tilted my head and sank into thought. My guess was it had something to do with Dusty's true nature.

I reviewed my memories again. The Prophet, the Tower Lord of the White Tower, Heinrich.

—A Destiny that defies reason...

—You've been born to a harsh fate, child.

—Struggle all you want, wicked thing. This light is a punishing noose that burns all evil to the soul and purifies it!

A Reverse Reason Destiny that defies reason, a harsh ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fate, a wicked thing. Words referring to Dusty flashed through my mind.

But I still didn't get it. No connections at all. If it's Reverse Reason, why eat human eyes? What does that have to do with anything? Harsh fate? No clue there either. Dusty had instinctively preyed on my sense of self when I was little, but otherwise hadn't been particularly harsh to me.

—Wicked thing!

Hmm. That one depended on perspective. I could kinda agree, to an extent.

Anyway, the conclusion was I have no damn idea.

I turned my gaze back to the silhouettes watching me from afar. And tried talking to them.

"Hey. Come closer if you want."

No reaction. Were they ignoring me, or could they not hear without ears?

In the end, all I had was: Feed on human eyes, and they get closer. Just a hypothesis, though.

So that's how it is...

I pondered for a bit, then decided.

"Table it for now."

Meaning, ignore it and maintain the status quo. Let them come or not, whatever.

Having my Heart Image corrupted to the point of detachment from everything was handy in situations like this. Most people would freak out at unknown entities slowly approaching, but I wasn't scared. If anything, I was curious. Whether they'd be a threat or not? I'd find out when they got closer. Once they did, I'd take a good, close look at what they were.

The next day, at the adventurer guild, Sigurd was drinking alone, looking all pathetic.

"Where's everyone else? Why're you by yourself?"

"No idea. Why ask me where those guys are."

"You guys are friends, right? Aren't you?"

I asked Sigurd that, and he scowled hard, setting down his glass.

"Hmph! What nonsense. Who'd befriend lunatics like that?"

Self-introduction? I stared at Sigurd, muttering inwardly. It wouldn't feel off at all if someone flung those words right back at him.

"I even formed a party with them."

"Which makes you a lunatic too!"

Classic Sigurd. If there were a speedrun contest for making me write a reflection essay, Sigurd would take first—no contest, with a huge lead over second place.

I pulled out a parchment from my pocket and scratched away with a pen, tilting my head in mock surprise.

"I thought you four were pretty tight. You're always hanging out."

"That's just 'cause those are the only ones who talk to this great self of mine."

Ah. I got the picture perfectly. So those three were like special unit helpers. Sure, as Heart Image mages, they were a bit out there even for the guild, but there's hierarchy even among weirdos. Sigurd seemed a notch below them, so they'd probably taken him under their wing.

"What's with that irreverent look!"

"Nothing. Just thought y'all were sweet like that."

I quickly dropped the pitiful gaze. Sigurd eyed me disapprovingly, then sipped his drink and spoke up.

"Anyway, kid, what the hell have you been up to?"

"What do you mean?"

"Listen closely to what those guys over there are saying."

I looked where Sigurd nodded. Four adventurers huddled at a table, glasses tilted as they chatted.

"Got hit again last night, huh? Those east district smugglers."

"Yeah. Their hideout was trashed. 'The Eye Eater' again, they say."

"What is it now, days on end? Started with the loan sharks, now smugglers. Back-alley trash are too scared to shit at night."

Their topic? Me. Or rather, the fallout from my nightly raids.

"But the state of 'em... eyes all gouged out."

"Don't even. One guard who cleaned up puked his guts out on site. Scarier part? Not a single corpse."

"What? No bodies?"

"Yeah. All still breathing. Passed out with eyes yanked, every one. Eaten alive. Survivors woke up insane, screaming. Might've been mercy to kill 'em."

"Crazy... No murders, just eyes? Total psycho."

"And takes all the loot too. Ruthless bastard."

They gawked, but the intrigue on their faces didn't fade. Not surprising. East district underbelly was distant drama here, perfect bar gossip fodder.

"What'd it look like?"

"Dunno. Witnesses babble nonsense. Eyes sprouting from thin air, darkness eating screams—same crap on loop."

"Rumors say over three meters tall, tentacles from its feet."

Three meters with tentacles? How'd it get so spiced up?

I was engrossed in their tale when—

"Eek. Tentacles."

Evel, listening beside me, shuddered. The usually chill snacker was rattled by the vivid three-meter tentacle monster description.

Sorry. That's me.

"What? You didn't even tell the girl?"

Sigurd jerked his chin at me. A dead giveaway that you? gesture.

Makes sense—he'd seen my left arm, watched me wield Dusty. Probably pegged me the second he heard the rumors.

I stared silently, then spoke quietly.

"Hmm... Sigurd."

"What."

I left Evel at the guild and dragged Sigurd to a dark alley with no one around.

"Let's make another contract."

"Hmph. I know what you want. Spit it out."

"Don't tell anyone the 'Eye Eater' from the rumors is me."

"Price?"

"I'll keep quiet about you sneaking into that back-alley tavern."

Obviously, guild finds out about that underground joint, he's toast. Ever since he showed me the place, we were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the same boat. This was just confirmation.

Might as well tighten the alliance. I proposed more.

"And if either of us risks getting caught, we help each other out. Deal?"

"Hmm."

"But boundaries clear: no dying for it. Just help within reason. Sound good?"

Sigurd crossed his arms, thinking. Didn't take long—he'd been through one crisis ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with me already; not a bad deal.

"Fine! Contract sealed!"

A pair of scales materialized behind Sigurd, sealing the contract. Unlike before, they hung almost perfectly level this time. Just a slight tilt.

Well, as Sigurd said, tilt your head and it's level.

I'd hooked him; he stamped the contract. Then I straightened up and spoke.

"But there's one tiny issue."

"What?"

"This is exactly that 'risk of getting caught' moment."

"Huh?"

Sigurd's face went blank. What else? Time to help.