The Curse of the Demonic Eye
Then die, Demonic Eye. An eye that wrung out mana on its own, heedless of the caster's will. Possessing a Demonic Eye was a blessing and a curse all at once.
The Demonic Eye served as both medium and conduit through the act of "seeing" and the eyeball itself.
Maximum output, maximum efficiency. Simply by gazing, it could read an opponent's mind, put a target to sleep, set them ablaze, and more—unleashing powerful spells with no delay, effortlessly and simply.
But the Demonic Eye couldn't be controlled. The moment it beheld something, it unleashed its full effect regardless of the owner's intent. And as long as the gaze held, the power never ceased, persisting indefinitely.
Moreover, the mere existence of the Demonic Eye continuously devoured its owner's mana. Once mana was depleted, it fed on their life force.
Most critically, the owner lost so much of their mana to the Demonic Eye that learning other magic became nearly impossible.
Of course, Saria was aware of the possibility that the man possessed a Demonic Eye. But from her direct experience, it had lasted barely a second, affecting only one arm at most.
Such a feeble output posed no real threat. She assumed it would be easily blocked by the mana restraints she wore.
To think he'd actually embed a monster's eye directly into his own body—the mad bastard.
Saria recalled the massive lizard-like magical beast that had appeared in the Great Forest some time ago. The Eye of Petrification.
The man had grafted the monster's eye onto the opposite side of his own eyeball.
Because the two eyes were fused, the Demonic Eye's petrification power had been diluted—from fully halting a target's movement to something far weaker.
At the same time, his originally powerless eye had gained a faint trace of the Demonic Eye's effect, allowing it to briefly bind part of a target's body.
Saria had grasped the rough principle behind the man's Demonic Eye.
...Is he trying to commit suicide?
But understanding and acceptance were separate matters.
Typically two to three times that of an ordinary mage. Those with Demonic Eyes usually possessed transcendent mana recovery to sustain them.
Even they couldn't endure the mana drain and mostly perished before reaching adulthood.
If even a human's Demonic Eye was like that, how much worse for a magical beast's—with its overwhelmingly greater mana reserves?
She couldn't pinpoint exactly how much mana it required, but no frail human body could withstand it.
He must have long exhausted his mana and started burning his life force.
His remaining lifespan was a few days at best. Just for those few days of using the Demonic Eye.
Even if she understood the principle, she couldn't accept him sacrificing his life for it.
...Mad bastard.
Regardless, this man's bizarre suicide method had become Saria's worst crisis right now.
In this hopeless situation, as Saria rolled her eyes desperately seeking a way to escape the Demonic Eye—
Flash.
Silver glinted. Immediately after—
Whoosh—!
Silver shot forth.
“!”
Swish—!
The man's vision warped, freeing Saria from the Demonic Eye's range.
.
Her judgment was swift.
Thud—!
Saria leaped straight at the man.
Thwack—!
She palm-struck his jaw as he frantically tried to turn his head, forcing it back up. Then—
Clink—.
Fluidly, she swung the chain of her mana restraints—bound to both hands—over his head, looping it around his neck.
Thud—.
She kicked his knee, disrupting his balance, seized him from behind, and dropped him to his knees.
Thump—.
In that position, with his neck strangled from behind, she cupped his ears with her hands to prevent him from turning his head. She nodded slightly toward the water bottle.
“...Thanks.”
Squeeze—.
Relieved to have escaped mortal peril, Saria tightened her wrist with force, intent on choking him unconscious with the mana restraint chain—
“This is an unexpected harvest.”
“...?”
His throat should have been crushed, making even breathing impossible. Yet the man's voice was utterly calm.
Puzzled, Saria applied more pressure—
Grind—.
.
“Wh-what—.”
Despite her hands pressing down hard, the man's head rotated.
Creak—.
Impossible.
Grind—.
In a direction.
Grind grind—.
No joint could twist.
It turned, and turned, until his head fully faced backward. Staring at the dumbfounded Saria, his lips split into a grin.
And then—
Splat—! “Guhk?!”
Just like his head, his fist twisted in an inhuman direction, slamming into Saria's abdomen.
* * *
As if gripping an iron collar like brass knuckles.
Thud! Thwack! Splat! “Guhk.... Gh—.”
I clicked my tongue softly, watching Saria get her stomach pummeled mercilessly.
Melee elves are a sin against nature, as expected.
I'd had high hopes when she seized the opening I'd created and stylishly subdued the man. Unfortunately, her finish was a bit sloppy.
Even a special forces elf couldn't handle a grotesque freak whose head and arms rotated 180 degrees.
Hmm. I briefly wondered if a sea-dwelling elf might've fared better.
Well, that thing's a bit too ambiguous to call a ghost.
Special forces elf or marine elf—it probably wouldn't have changed the outcome.
Still, I should save her.
If I left them like this, Saria would get beaten to death.
Pop.
I slipped out from my hiding spot again and retrieved the fork I'd first thrown at Saria.
Meanwhile—
Slither—.
The man lifted the unconscious Saria's arm to unloop the restraint chain from his neck.
Clink—.
Thud—.
Surprisingly, the man who'd just tried to enslave her showed no interest in the sprawled elf. Instead—
Grind grind grind—.
“Blessings upon our meeting. Pleased to—.”
He slowly rotated his head and arms back to normal, seemingly about to address me.
But—
Shieeek—!
Of course, I had zero intention of chatting with this freak.
Before he could finish preparing, I'd anticipated where his eye would turn and thrust forward hard.
Squelch—! “Kyaha!”
The sticky sensation seeping along the fork's tines, the hot blood spraying everywhere—I let out an involuntary gasp of delight.
“A fine ambush. If I weren't standing here, it might've been quite dangerous.”
“...!”
Instinctively—
Sploosh—!
I sensed danger, yanked the fork from his eye, and retreated.
By a hair's breadth.
Whoosh—.
If I hadn't dodged, his hand would've grabbed me.
Creak.
Undeterred by the gaping hole in one eye—
“I thought it was just a childish fantasy for the naive, like that foolish Veronica. But it seems the world is full of surprises.”
The man, having reset his head and arm joints, bent at the waist toward me.
“It's an honor to meet you, little fairy. My name is Bernhart Garcia. Feel free to call me Bern—.”
Shieeek—! “Well, well, quite the tomboyish personality you have.”
Shick! Swish—! Clang—! Chaaang—!
No need to listen to his drivel. I targeted vitals like his throat or the other eye several more times.
...Not easy.
The man who'd introduced himself as Bern dodged or blocked every attack with minimal movement, as if reading my motions—or parrying with the metal on his arms.
As I pondered calling Veronica from outside—
“Regrettably, recovering you intact may prove difficult.”
Bern shook his head and glared with the eye I'd stabbed, blood still pouring.
...Huh?!
The snake-like pupil I'd destroyed was pristine, unscarred.
Soon—
Just like with Saria, the man's eye ensnared me with its mysterious power.
Capturing Bern's repulsive smile as he gazed at me, I plummeted helplessly to the ground—
.
.
Right before impact. I filled my gaze toward him with mocking glee.
Reading the emotion in my eyes, his lip twitched faintly. As I watched—
Invisibility.
I activated the skill.
“What the—?!”
Sneering at the man frantically searching for my vanished form, I gripped the fork tightly.
Still cloaked in invisibility, I thrust it toward his eye—
Squish—! “Kyak?!”
* * *
“...Hoo.”
The 'puppet' sighed in relief, finally pinning the thrashing fairy. Even after capture, she'd nearly flung the fork at him again.
“Now, dangerous items are confiscated.”
Crumple. Crumple.
Clang—.
He swiftly snatched the fork from the fairy, compressing it into a useless round lump and tossing it aside.
Squash, thump, thump. “Indeed, invisibility magic was a blind spot. The Demonic Eye requires direct line of sight, after all.”
The puppet smiled leisurely at the fairy wriggling cutely in his grasp.
“But hiding your form changes nothing if your presence remains.”
Thud, thwack, thump. “Your targets are limited anyway, little fairy. And you're drenched in my blood scent.”
Fairy. Until now, he'd dismissed her as a figment of naive imagination, like that idiot Veronica.
But now she's in my hands—
This meant Bern could gain the upper hand in the sibling rivalry for the throne.
“Hmm.... You're so small, it's hard to gauge the 'pressure.' If your waist feels like it's about to snap, let me know beforehand?”
Squeeze—.
“We wouldn't want you dying pointlessly, after all.”
“Guhh....”
As Bern's puppet gradually tightened his grip, carefully observing the fairy's reactions—
.
.
“—Hey.”
The fairy suddenly stopped struggling and stared straight at the puppet.
Flower-petal irises. As he admired the intricate, beautiful pattern—
“...Know why you lost?”
“Uh...?”
A familiar language reached the puppet's ears.
Why is a fairy speaking Elenika?
It was slightly off, but unmistakably the kingdom's tongue.
He hadn't anticipated this tiny creature speaking—let alone the royal language.
As Bern, controlling the puppet, grew flustered—
.
“You talk too much.”
The fairy smirked impishly.
And then—
.
Squelch.
Blood foam bubbled from the puppet's mouth.