Giant Hunt (3)
The Wolves pressed their concentrated assault.
Ranged attacks. Arrows and magic of every kind hammered toward the ogre’s remaining left eye, all of it meant to strip the creature of its sight for good.
Every attempt failed.
The ogre seemed to understand just how precious that last eye was. It flung open its palm and desperately swatted every strike away. Once, one of the Wolves poured every scrap of mana he had into a spear and hurled it. He was ready to lose a precious enchanted weapon if it meant bursting that eye. He only managed to shear off a finger. The eye itself stayed untouched.
“Damn it all!”
Even while one hand guarded its eye, the ogre kept swinging the great tree clutched in the other. Protecting what little vision it had left meant fighting almost blind—but that did not make it any less dangerous. It swept the massive trunk like a broom, scouring the ground in every direction. Between the reach of those long arms and the length of the tree, the kill zone was enormous. Even the Baron himself could not close in.
The fight stalled. The blood that had been pouring from the ogre’s body had already sealed over; the bleeding had stopped completely. The Baron had thought natural regeneration belonged to trolls. This thing was a true monster.
“Captain! At this rate our mana’s going to give out first!”
Someone shouted it, and the Baron was thinking the same thing.
“Aaaagh!”
Worse, the ogre was starting to use its head. The moment the Wolves kept their distance, it simply threw the tree. One man took the giant trunk full-on, went flying, and was out of the fight. Only by thrusting his enchanted weapon out in front of him had he avoided being crushed.
Having flung its weapon away, the ogre immediately seized another fallen tree. The whole area was a field of toppled timber now. The battlefield had turned entirely in the creature’s favor.
“Everyone, watch yourselves!”
Dry throats worked as they swallowed. They could all picture what came next. If one of those giant trees came flying straight at you, you would be lucky to keep your life. Odds were your whole body would be pulp. They had lured the beast this far, and in a single moment every bit of it threatened to become useless.
—Whoosh!
—Whoosh!
The ogre began swinging the massive trunk again. The storm of attacks aimed at its eye thinned dramatically. The thought of a full retreat began to take shape in the Baron’s mind—and that, too, was full of problems.
Can we even run from this thing? If we scatter, maybe… but then someone has to be the sacrifice.
He ground his teeth and poured strength into the sword in his hand.
We bring it down right here.
As if to mock that resolve, the soft sound of an incantation rose from close behind him—a voice he knew all too well.
“That damned little brat—what the hell is he doing here!”
It was his son, Roy. Right after came the voice of Padec, the mercenary branch leader. For a moment the Baron wondered if he was dreaming. He did not forget his role. Without ever turning his head, he only roared.
“Get him out of here—now!”
Padec would handle it. What the Baron had to focus on was the fight in front of him.
“You little punk! You got a death wish!?”
Padec bellowed at the lord’s son with no regard for rank or courtesy. This was not the time. But Roy, deep in his casting, gave no answer at all. He ignored even his father’s voice and poured everything into finishing the spell. If his concentration broke, every plan he had prepared would collapse to nothing.
“It’s throwing again!”
The ogre’s next target was Geren—whether it had realized Geren was the one who had slicked the ground under its feet, or simply found his magic the most annoying of the spells flying at its eye, no one could say. Geren knew he was marked and sprinted back, both to keep from overlapping with the others and to find cover. The attack never came.
Roy’s magic was complete.
The instant Roy activated the spell, the ground around the ogre turned to a churning mire. A swamp-creation formula that braided water and earth magic together. No one watching expected much. Magic deep enough to swallow a giant ogre was the sort of thing only a count’s bloodline could manage. If the goal had been simply to trip the beast, Geren’s ice sheet would have looked more useful.
Roy’s thinking was entirely different. The spell’s purpose was never just to unbalance the body.
Go on—my little worms, stuffed so full of my mana you’re ready to burst!
The mud swirling under the ogre’s feet rose like living snakes.
The mud-forged serpents moved as if they were alive. Even an ogre that dull could tell this was magic. As the snakes climbed past its waist and toward its chest, it assumed they were after its eye. It swung the tree it had been about to hurl at Geren, trying to smash the nuisance away.
The damned snakes lost their shape—and reformed at once. The mire below was the source. It had to get out of here. Even the ogre could reason that far. But the more it thrashed, the deeper its feet sank into the mud, and the re-formed serpents kept climbing higher.
At last the ogre squeezed its left eye shut, discarded the tree, and clamped both hands over that eye—eyelid and double fists forming a triple barrier. Its will to protect the last remaining eye at any cost was unmistakable.
What is it even doing?
Roy stared at the cowering giant, half incredulous. He had come loaded with amulets, and now they were completely useless.
Well. Fine by me.
The magic serpents raced up the ogre’s body and poured in a wet rush into its mouth and both nostrils.
The eye? Who’s after that? Killing it this way is faster.
Suffocation. That was what Roy was after.
The ogre’s vitality was monstrous. Burns from fire magic, cuts from steel—every wound had already closed. Marks remained, but the blood had hardened; not another drop fell. Roy’s magic was different. The mud forced into nose and mouth sealed every opening—nostrils, throat, esophagus, windpipe. With every airway blocked, the ogre finally thrashed across the ground, and every thrash only dragged it deeper into the swamp that much faster. In its agony it jammed fingers into its mouth, gagged, tried everything it could think of. The spell never released.
Controlling a liquid that refuses to hold its own shape demands vast mana and focus. Inside a body as huge as an ogre’s, the magical connection should have been forcibly severed. Roy had a way around that.
An application of the Psychic Animate magic he had used two years before.
Sludgeviper Animate.
From the moment he first fed mana into the mud, he poured a powerful will into it. Even if the link to the caster snapped once the sludge entered the monster’s body, the effect would hold for a while.
More than long enough to choke one stupid giant.
Padec and the mercenaries watching quietly from behind, the Wolves who moments earlier had been locked in a blood-drying fight—not one of them made a sound. They only watched the final thrashing of the enormous ogre on the ground.
A little time passed. From the fallen body, no trace of life remained.
Seven-year-old Roy had brought down an ogre alone—the same powerful giant that a whole pack of adults had barely been able to face.
Silence held for a long moment. The first sound that broke it was this:
“Royyyy!!”
Aena. The whole stretch of forest, already dark enough that you could barely see a step ahead, filled with her voice. Echoes rolled back from far away.
“You stay right there!”
With Anna tucked under one arm, she came tearing down the steep hill like a lion closing on prey. Roy saw her and seriously considered running.
Ah. I didn’t plan for this part.
His scheme had not included an explanation scene with Aena.
What if I just… bolt?
At that exact moment the Baron stepped in and cut off his escape. Roy understood there was no way out. That left only brazen confidence.
“I’m glad you’re unharmed, Father.”
“…You little—do you have any idea where you are…”
The Baron started to speak, then pinched the bridge of his forehead. He had no idea how to handle this runaway colt who never listened and did whatever he pleased. A different breed of troublemaker from his second son, Jerry.
“Shouldn’t you be a little happier? We just cleared an ogre. You’re welcome to scold me, but there are a lot of eyes here, so perhaps at the manor. And, ah… could you do something about Mother?”
“……”
The Baron looked at his shameless son, started to say something, and settled for one long, deep sigh after another.