Montblanc's Trial (5)

"This can't be..."

A group of people stood stricken before the house that had been reduced to ash, their faces gone slack with disbelief.

"Search the place! Hurry!"

"Yes, sir!"

At the shout of the man who appeared to be their leader, the others fanned out through the ruins. It wasn't long before one of them called out.

"Captain! There's a body over here!"

"What? Who is it? Don't tell me it's Eric?"

"It's... ah, ahh... yes. It's him. It's Eric..."

"Goddammit! Those fucking bastards!"

The head had been severed, making identification by face impossible — but star-shaped tattoos were inked into their forearms, and that was enough. The headless corpse belonged to their comrade. It was Eric.

"No! Eric! Eriiiic!"

One of the men dropped to his knees, clutching the body, and howled.

"If only we'd gotten here a little sooner..."

The group's leader, Kent Smeil, muttered the words like a self-inflicted wound. He couldn't shake the thought that if they'd just pushed a little harder, Eric might still be alive. But there had been no other way. They'd already run themselves ragged getting here without rest.

This was Palos's Bird territory — a place where dark hands reached out from the shadows. One careless step and they could have been ambushed, so they'd had no choice but to prepare for every possibility. And because they'd prepared so thoroughly, the operation to rescue Eric Karun had inevitably fallen behind.

The faces of the people who had just confirmed their comrade's death were ashen. Then the man still clutching Eric's body lifted his head and spoke.

"...Let's take revenge, Captain."

"What? Revenge?"

"That's right! If we just turn around and go home like this, Eric won't be able to close his eyes even in death!"

"And then what? We storm their stronghold and all die together? We don't even know where their base is. And more than that... we don't have the strength to stand against them yet. It burns. It hurts. But we don't forget today — we wait for tomorrow. We get stronger than we are now. Then we avenge Eric."

"No, that's not what I mean! I'm saying we hit Ventis Village!"

"...What?"

The captain turned despite himself at the man's cry. Hidden behind the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trees, just out of sight, lay Ventis Village — the place Eric had visited so often to send word to them.

"It had to be them who sold Eric out! There's no way he'd be dead like this otherwise!"

"Mm... but those people have no power. If we harm them, we're no different from Palos's Bird."

"No! We are different! Completely different! And just because they have no power doesn't change the fact that they informed on Eric! The people of Ventis Village are bastards who deserve to be beaten to death!"

There was no evidence that the villagers of Ventis had informed on Eric. But the man, drunk on rage over his comrade's death, was certain they had. Grief had burned his reason clean away. And of course it had — he and the dead Eric had come from the same village. They'd been the closest of friends. Palos's Bird had burned that village to the ground, and the only survivors had been the two of them.

Everyone gathered here shared that same past. That same wound.

"If you won't do it, Captain, then I'll go alone! I'll go and kill every last one of those fucking rats who sold Eric out!"

"Ch-Charles!"

"Wait!"

"Let go of me!"

Eric's friend Charles snatched up his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sword and started toward the village. The others grabbed him, trying to hold him back. If the one who'd killed Eric was still in the village, Charles could easily end up dead too. They'd already lost one comrade. They could not afford to lose another.

They had come together to take revenge on Palos's Bird. Unfortunately, their strength was nowhere near enough to deal the organization any meaningful damage. Their captain hadn't told them to grow stronger and avenge Eric another day for no reason.

"I said let go, you bastards!"

"Calm down, Charles!"

"Ghk?!"

Charles wouldn't settle, and in the end the captain stepped in himself. He drove a fist into Charles's solar plexus and dropped him. Then he caught the face of the man crumpled on the ground and made him look up. Charles's features were a wreck of tears, a choked, broken sound leaking from his throat.

Meeting those eyes, the captain spoke.

"Kh, khhk... Captain. Captain! Hwaaaaah!"

"...We get stronger. And then we make them pay."

"Hwaaaaah!"

Charles wept against the captain's chest, the sound raw and ugly. A short while later, the group gathered up Eric's headless body and left.

Only when they had vanished completely did a man drop down from the tree above. The one who had killed Eric. Alan Han.

"Holy shit. That was close."

He clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath.

Right before he died, Eric had said his comrades were on their way here. Alan had wanted Ventis Village for himself, and he'd figured those comrades might attack the village — so he'd planned to deal with them too. At the time, he'd expected two people at most.

There had been a lot more of them than he'd thought. Every last one was 4-Star, and the man who looked like their leader was 5-Star.

Even with his stat buffs running, Alan was still only 4-Star. Taking that many of them by himself was next to impossible. Sure, if he burned through a thousand gems a pop, he could win the fight — but the losses would outweigh the gains by a mile.

"Why the hell did so many of them show up? What is this, Power Rangers?"

He'd been ready to write Ventis Village off if it came to that. When they turned around and left of their own accord, he let out a long breath of relief.

"Still, thank god they didn't notice anything off about the body."

The house had burned down to ash. The corpse inside it, however, had been perfectly intact — because Alan had pulled the body out first and then set the house on fire, so he could confirm whether the people who showed up were actually Eric's comrades.

If he'd left the body in the house to burn with everything else, they never would have been able to identify Eric. And if that had happened, their next move would have been obvious. They would have gone straight to Ventis Village to find out whether Eric was still alive.

...Fuck. I want to get stronger already.

If he'd had the power, he could have carved through a whole truckload of those guys in an instant. The hunger for strength grew sharper with every passing day.

Status window.

4-Star, level 73. Strong enough, by most measures — but there were people stronger than him, countless as grains of sand.

His eyes stayed locked on those two lines for a long time. Molt (Lv.3 / Mythic). And the gems sitting in his inventory.

The gold currently sleeping in his inventory exceeded seven billion. Converted entirely into gems, that came to a staggering seven hundred thousand — enough to use Molt seven hundred times.

His pupils trembled. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. His hands shook, fine and fast.

"...No. Not this. Not yet. I'm not that desperate."

Caught between the terror of death and the lure of power, he weighed the two against each other — then shook his head and dismissed the status window.

I returned ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to Ventis Village, where Auntie Hazmo served me a cup of Ventis tea, and I told her that Eric's comrades had come. She nearly jumped out of her skin — but settled down quickly enough once I said they'd already left.

"I... I don't even know what to say. Thank you. Truly."

The fact that I'd stayed until the end moved her deeply. She knew as well as anyone what might have happened if those people hadn't turned around and walked away.

"Think nothing of it. I only did what needed to be done. Anyway, I've finished the tea, so I should be on my way. I've still got a long road ahead of me."

"Won't you rest a little longer before you go..."

"I really do have a long way to travel. Take care of yourself."

"Ah..."

At the mention of a long road, Hazmo stopped trying to hold me back.

It wasn't time yet to tell her to come under me. The time for those words would come when I had enough power to protect both her and Ventis Village. For now, I'd have to content myself with earning her goodwill.

The remaining target was Renny Frank. Thirteen days left.

Soon I'd be able to return to my party members.

"When I get back, I'm starting with some goddamn hurricane sex."

Twitch. Twitch. Down below, it jerked as if it, too, wanted to hurry back home.

"Hmm~"

Montblanc sat with her legs crossed — long, languid, dripping with allure — and tapped the desk with a slender finger. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Thirty days had passed since she'd ordered Alan to execute the traitors who'd betrayed Palos's Bird. And still, Alan had not returned to Littleberry.

"Could he have misunderstood what I said?"

The thirty days she'd given him were the time allotted to kill the traitors and return to Littleberry. Even if Alan had already slain all three, the trial would be a failure if he failed to make it back by the end of today.

However interesting a specimen he might be, a man who couldn't pass a test this simple was no longer worth her attention.

And when Montblanc's interest ran out, that meant death.

"Still... shall I grant him one last kindness?"

She knew perfectly well how precious Alan considered his party members. Having surpassed 8-Star, she possessed a lifespan that had completely transcended the human body, and in the long years she'd lived she had honed an insight that could pierce straight through another person's weakness.

Alan's weakness was none other than his party. Unlike an ordinary Master, he treasured his Fairies to an extraordinary degree — enough to throw his own life away to save them.

If luck was on your side, a dead Fairy could be summoned again. In other words, Fairies came with spare lives. And still, Alan held them dearer than his own neck.

In more than two hundred years of life, Montblanc had never met a man quite like him. And so, if he failed the trial, she intended to offer him one final kindness.

Montblanc's kindness: showing Alan his party dying right in front of his eyes.

...Though of course, Alan wouldn't see it as a kindness.

Time passed, and the hour drew close to midnight. Alan still had not returned to Littleberry.

"Shall I bring in Master Han's party members?"

Montblanc's Fairy, Zoldik, checked the time and asked. Montblanc shook her head.

"There's still five minutes left, you know? Let's wait."

At his master's answer, the corner of Zoldik's eye twitched, almost too slight to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠see. The most loyal of her servants could not stand watching the noblest being in the world waste her attention on a piece of trash like Alan Han.

The clock ticked on.

Four minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes. And when one minute remained—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Someone rapped on the door of Montblanc's office. Zoldik opened it and found one of the servants who worked at the trading company standing there. The man bowed his head with practiced deference and spoke.

"Master Alan Han has arrived and requests an audience with the Guildmaster."

With barely a minute left until the trial's deadline, Alan had returned. He had passed.

Montblanc burst into laughter, thinking of the man who had not betrayed her expectations. Zoldik's face went stiff as stone.