Crossed Paths, or Perhaps Not (4)
As Maxim steeled his resolve for the fight, Clint suddenly asked, “Are you an academy graduate?”
Maxim frowned at the abrupt question. “Why ask that out of nowhere?”
“Whatever the case, don’t even think about handling this the same way they taught you to deal with being surrounded.”
“Acting all familiar out of nowhere,” Maxim muttered gruffly.
He gauged the monsters tightening their encirclement. A pack of hellhounds. Thirty or so. A considerable number. There would be no need to use Aura Blade.
“But why don’t those things eat each other? I thought there was nothing to eat out here.”
“It seems even the monsters in this region rarely engage in cannibalism among their own kind.”
The sun hung high overhead. Its light beat down sharply on the ground, yet Maxim’s blade—caked with dried Hexaped blood—refused to gleam. He glanced behind him. Crimson aura rose from Clint’s sword. Maxim realized the man’s gaze was fixed on his own weapon as well.
“Let’s begin.”
Before Clint could ask any more pointless questions, Maxim charged straight into the pack of hellhounds. The creatures did not bark like dogs or howl like wolves. They emitted a piercing cry truly worthy of monsters and surged toward him.
Kyaak.
One.
Maxim drove his sword up through a hellhound’s jaw. The beast flew backward into the cliff with the force of its own charge and died on impact. Without sparing it a glance, Maxim stepped toward the next.
From above. From below.
He circulated a precarious amount of mana through his body. The flow coursing through his veins was little more than a handful, yet it unmistakably reinforced his frame. A stinging pain prickled along his blood vessels, as if needles pierced them. His old wounds flared faintly. It was almost laughable that his body ached from merely this much.
A hellhound opened its maw. Maxim thrust his blade into the drooling jaws and sliced upward, splitting the creature’s skull in two. Brains and blood sprayed in every direction as it collapsed.
Next.
Dozens still remained. Maxim pushed his speed higher. The number of hellhounds lunging at him grew from one to two, then from two to three. A single slash was no longer enough. Two heads flew from one swing of his sword.
“...He changed his approach.”
It was relentless. He had felled roughly seven on his own. The remaining twenty-odd hellhounds could have fled, yet they refused to retreat. Instead they formed a fan around him and slowly closed the distance.
“Cunning bastards.”
The hellhounds bared their teeth. The expression looked almost like a smile, and Maxim stared at them with open displeasure. He must not charge first. If he recklessly plunged into that fan-shaped net, they would instantly close into a circle and begin tearing him apart at their leisure.
It was well past time for help.
Maxim glanced back.
“...”
Clint had already driven off the climbing monsters with the rest of the unit some time ago. Their eyes met. Clint watched him with the look of someone conducting a test. Curiosity and a measure of distrust lingered in that gaze. He clearly had no intention of helping.
What exactly was he trying to test?
Receiving Maxim’s irritated glare, Clint merely shrugged. “I have absolutely no intention of killing you or harming you.”
“Then why aren’t you helping right now?”
Clint raised an eyebrow. “I was half in doubt, but after watching you handle that Hexaped earlier, I confirmed your skill is genuine. I’m certain you can break through this just fine. What, can’t you manage? I was told I need to correct that insolent attitude of yours. You’ll have to suffer a little.”
Maxim ground his teeth. So that was it. He lowered his sword. This is the punishment you decided to give me.
Theodora rose in his mind. Her cold, sidelong glances and the warm smiles she once gave only to him. Tears, laughter, surprise, joy, contempt—countless emotions her eyes had conveyed flashed through his thoughts. At the end of them stood Theodora, the one who called him Maxim instead of Max.
I’ll accept it gladly. I’ll take it all as my crime.
Even then, Theodora must have believed in his ability and trusted he would not be hurt. The weight of her feelings toward him was heavy. The trust that refused to vanish was heavier still. She had surely driven him into this with the thought of let him suffer a little. Yet the result that had come to Maxim was a far harsher sentence.
Why have our paths crossed so badly?
In the beginning, Maxim had tried to give Theodora his very best. Their words had been cold, but he had at least hoped not to earn any more of her hatred than before. That wish had shattered from the selection test onward. His sword could never carry true sincerity, and a blade without sincerity never reached her.
Contradictions raged noisily inside his heart. The part that insisted he must sever his lingering attachment and make her hate him. The part that could not abandon that slender thread of affection and would cling to it no matter the danger.
It was fortunate. If Theodora had been even a little kinder, a little less cold, the latter would have won.
Maxim let out a long sigh. The hellhounds’ cries echoed across the wasteland. The wide fan of their encirclement began to shrink toward him. They had him within striking range.
He lifted his head. The sky came into view—deep blue and sorrowful.
Clint’s voice drifted from behind. “Handle them yourself. I won’t be offering any help.”
Maxim turned his head. “I don’t need it.”
The hounds’ eyes gleamed as they licked their chops.
I won’t ask for your forgiveness, Theodora.
Maxim raised his sword high. So you can keep hating me.
The dying embers of his lingering feelings faced another blaze. And yet I will forgive you. I will not deny the heart I once turned toward you. Even if you come to hate me more because of this, even if you someday drive me to death, I will never resent you.
Maxim continued circulating his mana and took one step forward. The hellhounds exhaled violently, excited by the promise of a feast.
“Come.”
The hellhounds charged. Maxim threw himself into the monstrous torrent. His sword traced an elegant line. Space split as though a stroke had been drawn across blank paper. Necks severed, legs sheared away, backs and bellies opened to spill entrails.
Kyaak.
It ran deep. Maxim took the next step and thought. Hellhounds struck from the sides and rear, reaching with fangs and claws. He dodged the snapping jaws first. The maw grazed his flank and clamped shut just behind him. But he could not evade the claws in time. The searing pain from his mana flow disrupted his agile movements.
Riiip.
A gash opened in his armor. Maxim kicked the hellhound’s head away. Another. A massive jaw yawned wide toward his right shoulder. Before it could bite down, Maxim leaped forward and slammed his shoulder into its chin. The staggering beast was split in half the next instant, spraying a fountain of blood.
Still more remained. Armor scraped. A small cut opened on his cheek. Maxim ignored it all and swung his sword. The time needed to dispatch each one slowly lengthened. He paid it no mind. The frequency of teeth grazing his armor and sinking into it kept rising.
Maxim swung again.
Crack.
The armor that had endured countless bites finally gave way. Sharp pain flared near his latissimus. He stabbed the hellhound’s throat instantly, but its jaw muscles refused to release him. In that state he dispatched two more. Five left, perhaps.
Maxim pried open the dead beast’s jaws and tore the fangs from his back. Blood poured down. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. His sword swung exactly five times, and only corpses remained across the wasteland. Blood streamed steadily from his back.
Clint approached, his face openly bewildered.
“...You...”
Maxim glared at him. His mood was far from pleasant.
“Why didn’t you use Aura Blade?” Clint asked, unable to comprehend.
Maxim narrowed his eyes. “None of your business.”
“Are you trying to show dissatisfaction with us? Do you truly mean to deny the fact that you are a knight?”
A knight capable of using aura normally had never suddenly lost the ability, so Clint’s reaction was understandable. Moreover, given Maxim’s skill, the idea that he could not use Aura Blade seemed even more absurd.
“If our policy displeases you, prove it with your sword.”
Maxim snorted. “I said it’s none of your business. Whether I denied being a knight or not, don’t the monsters lying there tell the whole story?”
Clint frowned.
Convey it to Theodora exactly like this, knight of No Man’s Land. Exaggerate if you wish. Embellish all you like.
Maxim finally steadied his heart. There was only one thing he wished for now: that Theodora would no longer be swayed by that damned Count Benning’s schemes. It was enough for him alone to be caught in them. That she would resent only him to the very end and never uncover the truth hidden beyond.
The exploration ended and all investigation personnel regrouped, returning to the barracks after sunset. Theodora and Margrave Camilla Fey had spread a map of No Man’s Land across the table and were racking their brains. Inside the tent, only Paola and Clint remained with them.
“...It seems everyone witnessed similar scenes,” the Margrave said, pointing at the map with her baton and letting out a low groan.
The clues and anomalies reported by the team shared common threads: monsters scrambling up cliffs as if fleeing, creatures that appeared terrified, fewer monsters than usual visible below the cliffs.
“...And the abnormally starved monsters as well.”
The Margrave tapped her shoulder with the baton. She hated to admit it, but she could no longer avoid the possibility she had pushed to the back of her mind.
“It would be preferable if the land had simply reached the limit of monsters it could sustain, causing their numbers to drop, but...” She sighed. “If they were truly fleeing from something... if an existence capable of rekindling even the fear long suppressed by the will to live is approaching...”
“The worst,” Paola finished.
“It reminds me of fifteen years ago,” Clint said.
At those words, both Paola and the Margrave recalled a single entity.
“Behemoth...”
“If the Behemoth has truly appeared, it would make sense.”
The Margrave pressed her lips together tightly. Even after fifteen years, the Behemoth that had merely shown itself before vanishing still haunted her nightmares.
“We’ll need a considerable force,” she murmured. “When you report to the royal palace later, I hope you convey it properly. Since that place must always prepare for the worst, adding a touch of exaggeration is perfectly acceptable.”
“...You mean to say the Behemoth might appear?” Theodora asked carefully. The Margrave nodded.
“His Majesty the present king will remember it well—what kind of monster that creature is.”
“The being known as Behemoth is that dangerous...” Paola continued with a grave expression. “The Behemoth is an extremely perilous monster on its own, but there is an even more troublesome aspect. It subjugates monsters beneath itself. More accurately, the monsters choose to worship it of their own accord.”
Theodora’s eyes widened. “That means...”
“Yes. It explains both the sudden sharp decline in their numbers and the sight of terrified creatures fleeing. Though when it first appeared fifteen years ago, such signs were absent.”
“That may have been because it was the creature’s first appearance. No one knows what is happening beyond those distant cliffs right now.”
Paola and Clint wore deeply serious expressions. Sensing the tent’s atmosphere had grown far too heavy, the Margrave clapped her hands to lighten the mood.
“Well, the Behemoth won’t appear tomorrow, and we still haven’t clearly identified this abnormal phenomenon. Losing sleep over worries now would be foolish.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You’ve all worked hard today. I look forward to your continued efforts for the remainder of the promised investigation period. Rest well tonight.”
“Ah, Margrave, a word if I may.” Clint rose and whispered something to her. When Theodora watched the scene with a puzzled look, the Margrave’s gaze met hers. Her expression was far from pleasant.
“Understood, Clint. You may leave.”
“Yes, then.” Clint followed Paola out through the tent flap.
“Theodora, could you remain a moment?”
Theodora nodded. She could roughly guess what the Margrave wished to discuss.
“About that knight you mentioned—they called him beyond saving.”
Theodora’s brows twisted. “What do you mean?”
“His skill was adequate, but it seems he has already lost his identity as a knight. He displayed neither aspiration nor sense of duty.”
Theodora listened calmly.
“They said he refused to use aura until the very end. He cast aside his pride as a knight, yet some other pride remains.” The Margrave shrugged. “Clint appeared rather angry. He’ll have to endure quite a bit, it seems.” She gave a dry laugh. “During this investigation, we’ll need to give him a proper mental re-education.”
To the Margrave’s lightly spoken words, Theodora could only answer with a bitter smile.
Night had already fallen outside the tent. With a restless heart, Theodora wandered the grounds beyond the barracks. The troops slept in tents prepared past the castle walls. On her walk to ease her stifled feelings, she looked around. There was nothing of interest in the wasteland of No Man’s Land. It was merely a walk for walking’s sake across the empty plain.
Theodora suddenly caught sight of a figure. It was a familiar silhouette. The figure seemed to recognize her and halted abruptly. She raised her lantern to confirm its identity.
What entered her eyes was Maxim, walking in an unmistakably awkward, pained posture.