Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Fatalism's Zealot
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Silther opened his eyes to the hand stroking his waist. The first thing he saw were her drowsily closed eyelids. He brushed back Dianne's hair and said,
"Woke up?"
"A while ago."
"You should've woken me."
"Nah. Just watching you sleep was fun enough. But you know what? Those wrinkles on your forehead are pretty deep. Gives you a mature vibe, but you look a bit old."
"A man turning forty in a couple days is bound to look his age."
Dianne caressed his face. After fiddling with it for a bit, she seemed bored, let out a chuckle, and slipped out of bed.
He admired Dianne's body bathed in sunlight. It was the frame of a seasoned warrior.
Unlike women raised in greenhouses, her skin was rough all over. And that made it all the more appealing.
"Done ogling? How about a review?"
"Perfect."
"Boring critique."
Dianne got dressed. He got out of bed and took a sip of water.
"Did the underground Master head out alone again this time?"
Dianne asked. He sat on the edge of the bed and replied,
"Business talk first thing in the morning?"
"We had our fun last night, so now it's time for work. Or should we slack off guilt-free?"
She tugged at the hem of her shirt, preparing to strip again. It was tempting provocation, but he gently shook his head. Dianne straightened her clothes, as if she'd expected as much.
"That guy's a fatalism fanatic. He believes fate will protect even his own body."
"'Life and death alike hang on the grand design,' wasn't that what he said? It's ironic that someone like him holds the key to the new era."
"He's a man who conjures all sorts of variables, but his results are flawless. He always throws himself into danger, yet he's still alive."
"He's the polar opposite of you."
"That's why we might need each other."
The Master of the mages was a man beyond eccentric. No sane person would willingly associate with him.
But the Master possessed a power as extraordinary as his bizarre ways.
The only one who could open a Realm.
Through his meeting with the Master, he had found a way to turn his dream into reality.
"That said, he didn't really go alone. Who'd you assign?"
"Maxime of the 1st Knight Order."
"No worries with Maxime then. He's capable."
"When he returns this time, we should discuss the Unstable Realm. We still desperately need his input."
Dianne slipped on her leather vest. She then pulled the straps across her chest, cinching it tight.
"I've heard there's a country up north in the Allied Kingdoms where women run the politics. Their female warriors cut off their breasts, or so the story goes. Ever since I heard that, I've wondered sometimes if it'd make things easier for me too."
"Not a question I can answer. Never had breasts myself."
"You'd probably miss them if I did. You like groping them."
Dianne approached. He pulled her into a tight embrace before letting go.
"I'm sparring with the 1st Knight Order today. Want to join?"
"I'll swing by if I have time."
"That's code for 'no.'"
"We sparred among ourselves while you were gone. I got a bit hurt."
He showed her his left arm. A scar still ran diagonally across his wrist.
"Who did that?"
"Maxime."
"His skills have improved."
"Took quite a while to heal. The underground mages warned me. Even with a new body, I'm no immortal. Tougher than average, sure, but fatigue builds up, and it'll lead to big trouble if I don't rest."
"I'll have to be careful too. Stamina's dipped since my left leg got severed last time. Got to keep it to a level that doesn't dull my battle senses."
"You're in charge of the 1st Knight Order, so adjust as you see fit."
Dianne headed for the door, saying she had to get going. She paused halfway out.
"Silther."
"Yeah?"
"Once Inebil gets back from playing around, should we explain what we need to do going forward?"
"It's about time to decide."
"There was one suitable candidate left, right?"
"Just one. Saved him for Inebil."
"That works. That kid won't refuse. He craves strength more than anyone. And if you ask him, he won't even hesitate."
"Don't overhype me. Inebil follows you more."
"Is that so? Either way, I want to bring that kid along. He's pure. Fits the new era. Not like us—dirty and ugly."
"Once we lay the foundation, our job's done. After that, it'll be up to people like Inebil."
"Charlotte can live in that world too."
"Yeah."
Dianne finished speaking and cast her gaze downward. It was a fleeting silence, but to him, it felt like ages. Dianne spoke again, her tone light and casual, as if asking about the weather.
"What if Inebil refuses?"
"To explain the Realm, we'd have to reveal everything about us. We need to share our ideology to move forward. If not..."
He trailed off, but Dianne understood. It was about ushering in a new era.
A dangerous dream that turned the current regime into an enemy. They had to stay cautious until their power was complete—no leaks, nothing.
"The mouths of the living can't be trusted. Got it. If the kid rejects us, leave the handling to me. I took him in, raised him. It's only right I take his life too."
"No need to push yourself."
"It's fine. I decided this when I promised to stand with you. You said it yourself—revolution demands blood, and you're prepared to bathe in it. Same for me."
Dianne quietly closed the door. He looked out the window.
As she said, Inebil was pure. He'd weathered storms, yet had no rough edges. That's why everyone liked him.
"Hurry back. We've got a lot to do."
He smiled, thinking of the colt that had followed the mysterious man.
* * *
"You've got the direction right."
Guchi rubbed the discovered droppings between his fingers. It stuck thickly without crumbling.
"Does it have to be like that?"
Inebil said from behind, watching. Her face showed pure disgust.
"I even tasted it back when I was learning."
"That? Why?"
"Eat it yourself and find out. Want to try?"
"I'd rather die. I'd hang myself before eating animal shit."
"Fine, don't then."
"Tell me why at least. Why eat that?"
"No idea. Never tried it."
Inebil's eyes widened.
"You said eating it would reveal the reason."
"That's why I figured trying it might show me. Never done it myself."
"You're rotten to the core in how you think."
He motioned for her to quiet down as she grumbled.
Judging by the droppings' consistency, the prey was nearby. With the wind at their backs, this hunt would be easy.
"Is this a marsh boar track?"
Lander knelt on one knee, pointing to the slightly indented ground. He examined it closely and said,
"Good eye as always. Spotted it right away. That's a marsh boar print. Shallow impressions, four toes. Judging by the spacing and depth, it's a big one."
"Let me see."
Inebil came over to check the track.
"Now that you mention it, I can see it. But how do you even spot stuff like this? Hunters must have great eyes."
"Eye for detail comes with practice. They say skilled hunters can even read the target's mindset from the traces."
"Can't you?"
"I can to some extent. I'm a veteran, after all."
"You sure don't hold back on self-praise. Thick-skinned, aren't you?"
"You're no different."
He'd meant to hunt alone, but Inebil tagged along asking where he was going, and Lander joined when she said it'd be boring otherwise.
It had been ten days since Inebil joined. This woman with terrifying affinity blended in like she'd always been there.
The rigid side she'd shown during interrogation seemed shed along with her commander role. Inebil now boasted a smooth, affable personality, drawing close.
She'd boasted it herself: you'd dislike her at first, but it'd change with time.
He admitted it. Teasing Inebil beside him was growing on him.
Her once-annoying speech felt honest now, no longer grating.
"Don't sit next to me when eating. Your shit-stained hands ruin my appetite."
Of course, her nitpicking was still obnoxious. He shot a grin at Inebil before following the marsh boar tracks.
"There it is."
A marsh boar bathing in the mud came into view. Full-grown, by the size.
He'd nearly faced mockery from Inebil empty-handed, but now he'd saved face.
"Catch that, and we can party tonight."
Inebil whispered. He held a finger to his lips.
Mountain beasts had sharp ears. An unfamiliar human voice would spook it into fleeing.
He nocked an arrow, drew the bow taut. At this range, he could hit blindfolded.
He straightened his wrist on the bow grip, held his breath briefly, then released the string.
The arrow whistled satisfyingly. He felt the hit. Straight shot—it pierced the marsh boar's left eye.
As it shrieked and tried to flee, he gifted it another arrow. This one to the body.
"Go finish it."
With its brain pierced, the convulsions would stop soon. He approached the thrashing boar.
It rammed its head into nearby trees, bellowing, then collapsed with a thud.
"So bows aren't just for show."
Inebil approached. Lander turned sharply. He stared into the dense trees. Something there? He narrowed his eyes but saw nothing.
"Something wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Lame. Alright, help bleed this thing out."
Inebil recoiled.
"Here?"
"Process it quick or it'll stink. Marsh boars are like that. Minutes after death, the guts reek horribly, and if it soaks into the meat, it's inedible."
"I'll watch."
"You slice people fine but squeamish about animals."
"People I'm used to. Animals, not."
"You say scary shit so casually."
He drew his butchering knife.
(To be continued next time)