Rumors of the Nameless Adventurer (2)
Three months ago. Right after the battle with the Behemoth.
His legs felt heavy. The pouring rain seemed to weigh his entire body down, as if it had taken on physical mass. Maxim trudged along the path that had turned into a quagmire, his boots splashing through the mud.
No.
The woman held in both his arms was barely clinging to a life that threatened to flicker out at any moment. How much time remained? An hour? Thirty minutes? Or perhaps he was simply refusing to let go of something hopeless.
Maxim’s mind burned white-hot, consumed by a relentless stream of such thoughts.
No.
The final surge of power Christine had poured into him was the only thing driving Maxim forward. His body was in better condition than ever, yet his heart had never been more turbulent. He had even stripped off his armor. He could not allow the rain to steal any more of her body heat. He had draped cloth over Christine and pressed it tightly against her as he moved, but her warmth was fading all the same.
Please.
Maxim clenched his teeth. For the first time, he resented the meager amount of mana he possessed. The mana drawn from his throbbing, aching heart was all that kept any trace of warmth alive. If that power were to cut off, something truly irreversible would happen.
“Ah.”
The flowing golden hair seemed to be losing its luster. Raindrops slid across her precariously closed eyelids. Her face, once milky white, had lost so much blood that it was now deathly pale, like blank paper.
“Just… hold on a little longer…”
The words that would never reach her drifted through the air. They were meant for Christine as much as they were for himself.
Splash.
How long had it been since the muddy path gave way to level ground? His military boots were already caked in filth. Maxim lifted his head and scanned the changed landscape.
“…!”
What entered his vision was a solitary house standing in the middle of the fields. Maxim’s steps quickened. Just a little farther. He clutched Christine tighter to his chest and muttered under his breath.
He staggered, nearly losing balance, then steadied himself and broke into a run. Ten steps. Five steps.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Is anyone there…!”
Maxim’s hoarse voice tore from his throat. It was late afternoon, a time when the house might well be empty. His heart burned as he waited for an answer. Unable to endure the silence, he pounded on the door again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
No response. Maxim took half a step back.
“Damn it…!”
Bang—!
He would think about the consequences later. The shattered door crashed noisily into the living room. Maxim staggered inside and searched for somewhere to lay Christine down.
…The sofa.
He placed her gently on it, then approached the fireplace wrapped in pitch darkness and leaned in to start a fire. The charred logs were soaked through.
Wet?
Maxim’s face hardened. Slowly, without changing posture, he straightened up.
He examined his own body.
It’s sealed.
The mass of brilliant mana Christine had given him right before losing consciousness. Even now he could sense it coiled around his heart, preventing any mana from leaking outward.
Circulating mana inside the body is still possible, but…
Releasing it outside had been made impossible. Maxim raised a hand to his chest. His heart was beating faster than usual, yet the rhythm felt right. The heart that the curse had thrown out of sync had finally found its proper cadence.
Using aura was now literally impossible, but at least circulating mana would not reduce him to a cripple. Maxim looked down at Christine and bit his lip.
Thank you.
No presence could be felt, yet Maxim knew enemies were scattered all around him. As the approaching death grew clearer, he tightened his grip on the sword hilt.
He glanced at Christine lying on the sofa near the fireplace. No. He could not simply die in a place like this. Killing intent flooded the aura radiating from him.
“You noticed sooner than expected.”
The mages’ concealment melted away. The first to appear was a witch in a dark green hood. Maxim counted the presences emerging throughout the house.
Eleven… twelve.
Strength flowed into his hand. He positioned Christine behind him and drew his sword.
They mobilized quite a force.
Maxim ground his teeth.
“How did you know?” the witch asked, tilting her head with genuine curiosity.
“There was moisture left in the fireplace.”
“Ah, I didn’t account for the time it would take for the water to—”
Maxim cut her off with a sneer. “What kind of idiot pours water on a fireplace to put it out?”
He took up a position that would let him protect Christine without fail. The witch let out a thoughtful hum, as if impressed.
“I’ll remember that.”
Her gaze shifted to the mages behind her. One of them waved a hand in awkward excuse.
“You’d only know if you’d put the fire out yourself.”
Can I do this?
While the mages grumbled among themselves, Maxim’s eyes darted, calculating his next move. If he could kill the woman in front of him with one strike before she could react, the rest might be manageable.
The witch’s eyes beneath the hood met his.
“Clever little—”
Strike.
“Huh?”
Squelch.
The sound of flesh parting rang out. None of the mages on site had seen the blade slice through the air. The witch’s neck rose slowly toward the sky, then began its descent.
For an instant, silence reigned. The moment her severed head completed one rotation in the air and landed on the floor, the mages froze. That paralysis freed Maxim’s feet.
His sword pierced another mage’s throat.
“Catch him!”
A belated shout echoed through the empty house. Mana surged from beneath the mages’ feet, weaving into a net that tried to bind him. Maxim leapt backward.
He glanced at Christine to confirm she still lay safely on the sofa, then twisted his ankle and condensed his power.
“Stop him!”
Bang—!
His sword collided with the mana barrier. Behind the vanguard mages, other spells were already forming.
Maxim tightened his grip until the hilt creaked.
“What monstrous strength…!”
The barrier buckled. The imbalance triggered a mana backlash that shook the wall of power. At the same moment the completed spell hurtled toward him—
Clang—!
The barrier shattered.
“—!”
The incoming magic was…
“…Chains…?”
Chains wreathed in absolute darkness. Clank.
They bound his shoulders and legs. At the same instant, his sword danced, and the head of the mage blocking his path flew into the air.
“Catch him! Use any means necessary, just catch him!”
Even with their leader dead, the mages moved with coordinated precision. The chains tightened. Maxim struggled to move his limbs while the mages fought to maintain the spell.
Then a presence at his back made him freeze.
“…Surprising.”
The voice of the witch whose neck he had severed drifted from behind him. The floorboards, which should have been drenched in blood, were spotless.
“Even after recovering, she was little more than a corpse… So the talent acknowledged by the Count really is something special.”
Maxim’s breathing grew ragged. Pitch-black blood, like living shadow, was slowly being absorbed back into the witch’s body.
Black magic.
Having identified the spell, Maxim’s voice turned to stone. “So the Magic Tower was researching things like this.”
“The curse on your own body is a form of black magic too. Why act so shocked now?”
The witch sneered and flicked her hand. Christine’s body lifted from the sofa and floated into the air.
“Let her go.”
Maxim’s voice had sunk to something icy and terrifying. The witch’s gaze remained fixed on the hovering Christine.
“True. If it were up to me, I’d tear this traitor who abandoned the Magic Tower into pieces and kill her a hundred times over, but…”
A shadow began crawling up Christine’s body.
“I have no choice but to follow orders.”
Clank.
Maxim thrashed against the chains.
“Oh, and this applies to you as well. So stop struggling and…”
Clank!
“…just let yourself be captured nicely.”
The witch wiggled her fingers. One of the mages confronting Maxim walked past him.
“Move her. Without being seen.”
The mage who received Christine nodded and headed for the door.
Clang!
“Huk!”
The mage pitched forward with a startled cry. Maxim’s sword had stopped inches from his back.
“I told you to behave…”
Blood vessels stood out in Maxim’s eyes. The mana chains scraped dangerously against each other.
“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I saved a dying woman, yet your attitude is rather ungrateful.”
At the witch’s gesture, the mage hurriedly carried Christine outside. With a casual wave, the witch closed the door behind them.
She approached Maxim slowly. Layers of chains now covered his body, binding every joint. The witch placed a finger on his immobilized face.
“Those eyes that refuse to break are quite lovely.”
Chains forced their way into his mouth, forming a gag. Finding the sight comical, the witch let out a hissing laugh.
“I’ve always wanted to say something like a proper villain at least once.”
Giggling, she stroked his face. Her unnaturally long nails hovered over his eyelids.
The clanking had stopped. Maxim glared at her with bloodshot eyes. The witch’s purple irises glittered within them.
“Actually, I don’t like them at all. They make me want to gouge them out.”
She spoke as if sharing a secret. “They said it’s fine as long as you’re still breathing. So plucking out one eye as payment for cutting off my neck shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
Maxim closed his eyes. The corners of the witch’s mouth curled higher.
“How cute.”
She brushed his hair back in a gesture dripping with mockery.
Crack.
The ominous sound came immediately. The chains covering his body swelled slightly. The witch’s eyes narrowed, and then—
Crash—!
Without warning, the chains shattered. The spell disintegrated into scattering fragments of mana. A shining ring of chain grazed between Maxim’s tightly clenched teeth.
He broke them with raw strength?
Alarm flashed across the witch’s face. Before the black shadow could rise from the floor, bang! The chains exploded at the same instant Maxim’s elbow shot forward.
His strike flew true, slamming into the witch’s neck—
“—!”
She could not even scream as her neck snapped and her body flew backward. A sword had already appeared in Maxim’s hand.
“Cough…!”
The mages maintaining the chains vomited blood from the mana backlash. Maxim’s blade had already swept across another’s nape. Blood sprayed like muddy water kicked up by horseshoes.
He charged straight for the door. The distance was still close enough to catch up. Ignoring the remaining mages, he kicked the door open and burst outside.
Heat slammed into his back. The house wall exploded, hurling him into the rain-drenched field.
“How irritating.”
The witch twisted her broken neck back into place and walked toward him. Maxim staggered to his feet.
“One eye clearly won’t be enough.”
Darkness gathered at her fingertips.
“I’ll have to take a leg.”
Maxim’s eyes were not on the witch. They bored into the distance, toward the direction Christine had been taken.
The witch’s darkness kept shifting form—sword to scythe, scythe to spear, spear to a beast’s claw.
“It’s also rude to ignore me when I’m talking so much.”
With a flick of her hand, an attack flew. Maxim swung his sword and deflected it.
The mages gathered behind her, blocking his path and preparing their spells. Maxim assumed a stance, sword ready. Eight enemies left. His eyes flashed.
Mana-laden strikes and magic collided in the air. Maxim twisted and swung, blocking every assault from eight directions.
“Just restrict his movement. I’ll handle the rest.”
At the witch’s command, the mages focused relentlessly on his mobility. Through the gaps, her own attacks slipped in.
Slish. A jet-black blade grazed his neck.
Stab. A wound opened at his waist.
The witch swung the endlessly rising darkness at him. She avoided fatal blows, slowly, very slowly, chipping away at his stamina and life.
Clang. Clang.
Maxim’s movements grew desperate. The presence he needed to follow was already too far to sense.
One mage fell to his hand. Magic dragged him back as he tried to advance.
Another. His sword pierced a mage’s chest.
“Got him.”
A sickening sensation spread through his left thigh. Black thorns had sprouted from the wound, piercing clean through. The leg had lost all feeling; it was little more than dead meat.
Forcing himself upright on his right leg alone, Maxim swung his sword.
Thud. Shoulder, abdomen, back of the knee, elbow. The thorns pierced his body with exquisite precision, avoiding vital points.
He hung in the air like a puppet with severed strings, impaled on the spikes.
The pain felt distant. Even now, his heart continued squeezing out nonexistent mana to keep his consciousness alive.
“I noticed it while we fought, but your body is tougher than it looks.”
Don’t let go of the sword.
Maxim repeated the words endlessly. His consciousness had become the sword itself. He instinctively knew that releasing it would mean losing awareness entirely.
His hand trembled. The rain-soaked hilt kept slipping.
“You can just close your eyes,” the witch said, her voice unnaturally clear.
“It couldn’t be helped. After cutting down hundreds of demonic beasts, slaying the Behemoth, and collapsing from exhaustion, he still had to drag a body that wouldn’t obey him all the way here for Christine’s sake.”
Like ants gnawing at a sweet, her voice began eroding his mind.
Maxim forced his heavy head still and stared at her.
“…Fuck you.”
The witch’s mouth split into a wide grin.
“I knew you’d say that.”
Even so, she disliked how his gaze kept drifting elsewhere.
…Hm?
That gaze was fixed on something with absolute precision. Before the witch could register the anomaly, her vision inverted.
My field of view—?
Maxim’s body flipped, his head falling toward the ground. No—was it her own head that was falling?
Thud.
The witch met her third death. Every mage positioned behind her died as well.
Maxim stared with eyes that had lost their light at the woman approaching him.
“The state of the world lately has been rather unsettling,” the woman said, long sword hanging loosely at her side, mouth set in a grim line. “But your condition is even worse.”
“….M…Master.”
Blood trickled from the corner of Maxim’s mouth as he forced the words out.
The elf sighed as she gazed at the melted remains of the witch who had tried to flee—remains that looked like a puddle of melted eyes.