Pursuit (2)
The bald adventurer was staring down at her when Yvonne regained consciousness.
“You awake?”
Yvonne clutched her throbbing head and forced herself upright. A sharp wave of dizziness crashed over her again, and as she pitched forward, the adventurer’s hand caught her. Her desperate attempt to wrench free from that grip was thwarted with humiliating ease.
“No… no…”
Her unfocused eyes swam as she babbled at the adventurer. Blood had trickled down from her forehead and dried around her eyes, leaving ugly streaks across her face.
“I have to… I have to save Lady Marion…”
“In that condition, you’re not going anywhere,” Pierre said calmly to the knight who was still trembling violently. Even so, the escort knight struggled with all her might to break away from him.
“The lady…!”
“Calm down first and listen to me.”
A vein bulged on Pierre’s forehead. The escort knight bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. More blood was leaking from the corner of Yvonne’s mouth, and her dazed eyes were slowly regaining focus. Pierre clicked his tongue inwardly at the brutal method he had used.
“The lady has been kidnapped! We have to go after her…!”
“Damn it, there’s already one lunatic who lost his mind and went chasing after her like a rabid dog. I can see you’ve come to your senses, but you’d be better off heading to the gate and taking other measures.”
Pierre’s words slowly pieced themselves together inside Yvonne’s skull. For a long moment she simply stared at him, her expression blank with incomprehension.
“What do you mean… chased after her? Who? What are you talking about?”
Pierre’s gaze had drifted down the slope where the missing adventurer was likely waging his pursuit.
“One of the adventurers is chasing the carriage that we believe took the lady. They’ve already gained quite a lead, so the priority is to take the shortcut to the gate and cut off any escape routes the carriage might use.”
“Just one adventurer… I’ll chase them myself. You go tell the guards.”
When Yvonne rose to her feet, grinding her teeth, Pierre let out a long sigh.
“The guards won’t listen to anyone but a knight of this territory. Besides, the one who went after that carriage…”
Pierre narrowed his eyes at her.
“He’s far faster and stronger than you.”
Maxim’s eyes had locked onto the fleeing targets. There were two carriages racing away. They had chosen different paths and were hurtling down the straight alleys of Murat at high speed. They moved quickly, yet not at full reckless flight; they kept just enough restraint to avoid drawing suspicion, slipping away from the area in secret.
They were probably planning to merge with other carriages on the main road and quietly leave Murat, or head toward some hidden location. From the tallest building in Murat, Maxim stood atop the church bell tower, glaring down at the two carriages descending the slope. His eyes, now pitch black, swirled with a fierce inner light. The deepening afternoon sun seemed to ignite a crimson glow within them.
Mana surged around Maxim’s legs. The ground beneath his feet, where all that explosive power was concentrated, let out a sharp crack as it split apart.
Which of the two should he pursue?
Maxim didn’t waste time thinking. He simply had to catch them both.
Boom!
A sound like a cannon blast erupted from the church bell tower. The spot where Maxim had stood exploded, shaking the entire building. The recoil from launching the human cannonball called Maxim sent the massive church bell tilting wildly, ringing out a deep, unexpected toll.
Dong— Dong— Deeeeng…
The loud peal of the bell rapidly faded into the distance, leaving only a lingering reverberation in his ears. Maxim became an arrow loosed from a bow, scattering shockwaves as he flew.
One leap.
The distance between Maxim and the two carriages shrank in an instant. He aimed for a building standing squarely in the middle of the road where the carriages had split apart. Wind whipped around him like blades. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that Maxim had become the blade, slicing the wind apart.
The moment of landing was so smooth and stable that it seemed to carve out only that single instant and slow the flow of time. Yet the very next leap shattered even the illusion of calm, hurling Maxim forward with ferocious momentum.
Boom!
The roof buckled and shattered under the force of his push. Maxim had already mapped out his next path in a single heartbeat and now raced across Murat’s sky without hesitation. His eyes never left the two carriages drawing closer.
Clatter—!
The one-eyed spy sitting in the driver’s seat tilted his head. Even though they were on a well-paved road, the carriage was shaking ominously.
“What’s wrong with this thing?”
They weren’t even carrying the hostage. Their speed was fairly fast for a downhill run, but not so excessive that it would damage the carriage. That left only the possibility that something was wrong with the vehicle itself, which would be quite troublesome.
“The horses seem a little agitated too…”
Maybe he should slow down. Just as the spy was pondering that, a small whirlwind suddenly rushed in the same direction the carriage was traveling and swept across his back.
“What the hell was that wind?”
The spy who turned around froze. Far in the distance, silhouetted against the sun, something pitch black was flying toward them.
No way.
It couldn’t be.
His exhausted eyes must be playing tricks on him. But it was getting closer. The hand gripping the reins began to tremble from muscle memory. Hundreds of thoughts flooded the spy’s mind as he tried to identify the shadow. Of course, every line of reasoning led to the same conclusion.
It was him.
He had no idea why that monster had appeared again at this critical moment, but there was no doubt the thing chasing their carriage was that damned freak.
The shadow was gliding down as if soaring through the air. Its speed was so absurd it was hard to believe a human could produce it. At this rate, it would catch up in a few minutes—no, not even that. Even a few dozen seconds would be enough.
The urge to flee and the duty to complete the mission fused into a single, simple action.
“Fuck!”
With a curse, he cracked the whip through the air. The carriage surged forward.
Faster. Faster! the one-eyed spy screamed inwardly. We can’t get caught by that thing now. Run, damn it, run!
Fortunately, the horses didn’t tangle their legs and kept galloping strongly. The carriage jolted violently, tossing the spy into the air multiple times, but he paid it no mind.
How many steps were left? Was it catching up?
Boom.
Something exploded. The presence was getting closer. It was approaching faster than any horse in the world. The one-eyed spy’s face drained of color until it turned deathly pale. His pounding heart felt strangely foreign, as if it no longer belonged to him.
He switched the reins to one hand and rummaged through his coat. The moment his fingers touched something like a small stick, he grabbed it desperately and pulled it out.
A whistle to blow if support was needed. The one-eyed spy knew it was his only hope. He wasn’t sure if just three of them could even slow that monster down, but he had to cling to that sliver of hope.
He put the whistle, carved from animal bone, to his lips and blew with all his strength.
The carriage on the left suddenly accelerated. It pulled ahead so sharply that it was clearly faster than the one running alongside it on the right. People on the street screamed and plastered themselves against the walls as the runaway carriage barreled past.
That’s not the one.
Maxim thought as he watched the carriage suddenly speed up. If it were carrying a hostage, they wouldn’t dare accelerate like that—as if trying to shatter the carriage or trip the horses. If the horses tangled and fell, it would be a massacre.
Maxim gathered power in his legs to accelerate further. Cracks spiderwebbed across every surface his feet touched. His sliding descent seemed to slow for a split second before he exploded off the ground again.
…What the hell is that?
Maxim narrowed his eyes. The driver of the rapidly accelerating carriage suddenly pulled something from his coat and put it to his mouth.
Peeeeeeeeee—!!
A piercing sound that threatened to rupture eardrums tore through the streets of Murat. Maxim frowned at the unpleasant noise.
“What the…”
Whoosh.
Maxim’s vision caught something flying toward him in a blur. He had no time to slow down and block it. He drew the sword at his waist. At the same time, he sliced away the daggers flying at him from both sides.
Three figures landed on the line of rooftops along the path Maxim was running. One of the spies, holding a short one-handed sword, muttered while watching the approaching Maxim. His expression still brimmed with leisure. The blade resting on his shoulder swayed lazily, as if to emphasize that confidence.
“Is this the bastard that one-eyed idiot kept saying would make him piss his pants in fear?”
“He is fast. Whether he’s actually strong or not, we’ll have to see…”
“Tsk. I knew it was a bad idea to change the execution date. Some weird guy got involved.”
Something felt off. One of the spies narrowed his brow.
“That guy… he’s not slowing down at all?”
“We’ll just have to block him with our bodies. How long can a guy like him possibly last?”
One of them clicked his tongue, adjusted his grip on his sword, and glared.
“I’m going first.”
Before the other two could stop him, one spy leaped forward. With the light movements typical of his kind, he held his sword in a reverse grip and waited for the chance to pierce the enemy’s windpipe. The distance between them was ten paces.
The spy measured the closing gap and curled his lips into a sneer. Anything within three steps was his territory. If that fool took eight more steps and he advanced the same distance, his sharp dagger would neatly sever the reckless adventurer’s windpipe.
Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.
The spy counted silently as he stepped forward.
Come on. Come on.
His vision blurred at the edges; only the approaching black shadow remained vividly fixed in his sight.
Five. Four. Three. Two.
Come!
The spy’s hand moved so fast it was invisible. The tip of his blade traced a swift arc, gleaming like the fang of a viper. Even if the hood covered his neck, it didn’t matter. His sword would pierce straight through and bury itself in that throat, sending the man to the afterlife before he even realized he was dead.
Slice.
The clear sound of a blade cutting through flesh reached the spy’s ears. As always, the hand that had swiftly delivered death felt nothing. Bright red blood sprayed like raindrops, scattering through the air.
Tsk. What a coward.
What entered the spy’s sight was someone’s hand, spread wide open. Upon closer look, it seemed strangely familiar.
What? Why is my hand over there?
That was the spy’s final thought.
“Crazy…”
The one who had rushed forward in excitement had been butchered. His body was split in two at the waist. The arm that had been holding the sword was already flying through the air, while his left leg had been severed cleanly in half, spinning as it sprayed blood.
“Hey, we should fall back—”
The moment the two remaining spies turned to flee, a blade appeared before their eyes.
When? How? What about the other guy?
They had no time to question anything. The ground was already soaked with blood. There was no need to check what had happened to the comrade who had tried to escape with them. The blood droplets clinging to the incoming silver blade gleamed as ominously as the sword’s sharpness itself.
“Guh…!”
The sword struck down like lightning, from top to bottom. The spy raised his short sword to block, but immediately regretted it. The weight pressing down through the flat of the blade was far beyond what he could endure. The sword groaned with an ominous sound.
“You… crazy…!”
Clang.
The spy who had barely knocked the sword away was met with searing pain tearing through every part of his body. Maxim’s hands blurred into afterimages as they slashed through the air multiple times.
“Gaaah!!”
It didn’t cut me. Even amid the agony of every muscle in his limbs being sliced, the spy held that strange thought. Soon, that question was erased by a different kind of pain.
Thud.
“Aaaaargh…!!”
A pain like his right shoulder had been completely impaled. When he looked to the right with a trembling head, he saw that his own sword had pierced straight through his right shoulder, nailing him to the roof like a stake.
“You’d better stay still.”
As the spy gasped for breath, a gauntleted fist flew into his field of vision.
The carriage kept racing. The spy—no, the knight of Beninga—sitting in the driver’s seat could not hide his growing anxiety. After the whistle calling for support had sounded, there had been far too little news. A brief commotion. Occasional screams. And then nothing but silence.
“Goddamn it…!”
He couldn’t accelerate any further. With a hostage aboard, pushing the carriage any faster risked flipping it over. Should he try to reach the main road somehow? No—if a disturbance broke out on the main road, it would be even worse.
A figure flashed past the front of the carriage, which had no choice but to continue down the slope.
“Shit…!”
Thump.
A shadow crashed down in front of the carriage. The horses reared with a shrill whinny. The sudden movement threw the Beninga knight from his seat; he landed unsteadily on the ground.
Rolling…
What rolled to a stop in front of him was the severed head of the one-eyed spy, his face still frozen in an expression of pure terror.
“Saying the hostage isn’t here won’t work.”
The voice was dry. The Beninga knight lifted his head, breathing hard. A hooded adventurer. The black eyes faintly visible beneath the setting sun glowed with a crimson light.
“I suggest you don’t expect an easy death.”