Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Border (2)
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It was the first fork in the road they'd encountered since the journey began. Save the goatee or not.
His head was spinning. This was the biggest choice he'd ever faced in his life so far.
The most he'd ever agonized over before was something like which college to apply to or whether to enlist that year or the next.
Of course, those had been pretty important decisions in their own right.
No. There was one big choice recently. Whether to escape Gate City or not.
But that had only been a half-choice. One option was just staying put. The fork Tae-jin now faced had no such lukewarm path of maintaining the status quo.
The attitudes of those around him were split down the middle too. Blan and Castia were all for just leaving, while Pavilion insisted on saving him.
Old man Richer didn't voice an opinion. He just stood there with his arms crossed, silently watching Tae-jin.
"What do you think we should do, old timer?"
"Well, I have my thoughts, but I won't say them."
"Why not?"
"Because you shouldn't interfere in a choice that could shape someone's entire life. A mentor teaches their student, but doesn't dictate their path."
"Mentor, my ass."
He grumbled lightly, but a whirlwind of thoughts raced through Tae-jin's mind.
How deep was Oboe buried? He'd climbed up pretty steeply at the end there, so wasn't he buried quite deep?
Could he save him with his own power? Should he even try? What would happen if he got caught? Would he end up locked away in the Volterio Kingdom? Or handed over to the Kaiso Kingdom or Gate City?
But none of that was the core issue.
The real question is whether I can let someone die to keep myself safe.
Once he sorted out his thoughts, the tangled bushes and misleading signposts blocking his view cleared away, leaving only the stark crossroads.
The decision came quickly. Tae-jin was an utterly ordinary guy, after all.
Not particularly righteous, but not heartless enough to ignore a death right in front of him.
Not a hero, but not quite cowardly enough to turn away either.
It wasn't some burning sense of duty or justice driving him.
It was just a hazy sense of obligation—like he couldn't just leave him behind.
"Pavilion. How deep do you think Oboe is buried?"
"About twice my height, maybe a bit deeper. Not certain."
That put it at around four meters. The entrance was still collapsing, so even if they dug it out, that much dirt would just refill it completely.
To save Oboe, they couldn't just dig the entrance—they had to lift the entire mass of earth covering him. Risky, but more realistic.
Tae-jin stomped the dirt with his toe. Good news: it was soft. Bad news: it was absorbing rainwater by the second, growing heavier, and the raindrops were fattening up too.
Thoughts flashed through his mind. How much did all that dirt weigh? A few tons? Dozens? Could he even lift it?
Tough. Even two elite mages combining forces couldn't block the Gate entrance with that much.
If not all at once, then in stages.
First step: clear the big tree growing atop the burrow to reduce the weight, then scoop out the dirt.
Dig again and again, dozens of times if needed, until they reached Oboe. All they could do was hope he held out long enough.
Tae-jin focused his mind. Start by gathering the falling raindrops. No incantation needed for that.
Bwoooong—
As the raindrops halted midair, the border's alarm magic circle ahead of them flushed pink. At the same moment, a heavy, brass-instrument-like sound boomed out.
What to call it? It reminded him of his childhood flute lessons. Blowing into just the head joint made a sound exactly like this.
Or maybe much lower.
"Shit!"
Blan and Castia whipped around and bolted. Not a hint of hesitation in their steps.
But Pavilion ignored it all and kept digging at the dirt, while old man Richer silently watched Tae-jin.
Spread the water thin, spin it fast.
Air couldn't fell a big tree easily. No handy metal scraps either. Best material available: water.
A thin sheet of water began spinning rapidly. Like a grinder's circular saw blade.
Tae-jin concentrated to keep the spin steady as he drove the blade into the tree. He could almost feel the tree's impossible recoil in his fingertips.
About thirty seconds of pushing the water saw inward, and the tree swayed unsteadily.
Damn, too hasty. No telling which way it'd fall.
But old man Richer manipulated his mana to guide its direction, then shoved the felled tree far away.
Richer asked quietly.
"Decided to save him and go, huh?"
"Obviously. You can see that, right?"
"Yeah. Good choice."
Richer smiled—not his usual playful grin, but genuine delight.
He'd respect whatever Tae-jin chose, but deep down, he'd hoped for this.
"Help out too, old timer! Uproot the stump or something."
"Not the time. You pull the stump. Scoop some dirt too."
"What the— We don't have time! Hurry up and help!"
"I'll handle what you can't right now. Move fast."
Richer stood still, scanning the surroundings. Tae-jin grumbled as he yanked out the stump and carefully lifted nearby dirt.
But the rain intensified, soaking the earth and slowing progress.
Then, shouts rang out.
"Over there!"
Four soldiers charged from the southeast, and a flurry of thoughts hit Tae-jin.
How to handle them? Hurl a fireball? He'd never attacked a person before. What if he hurt them badly?
As Tae-jin's body stiffened and his focus wavered, Richer yelled.
"Keep moving!"
"Soldiers are coming!"
"You knew that when you started! Hurry!"
Richer finished shouting, then unhesitatingly incanted and unleashed lightning at the soldiers.
The struck men froze rigid before collapsing limply. Their muscles locked them into unnatural, log-like poses.
Tae-jin's mind went blank.
"W-what? You killed them?"
"No. Just knocked out."
"Shouldn't we check? What if killing four to save one backfires!"
"Don't worry. This is my specialty."
"Goddamn it! At least help clear the dirt then!"
"No. More coming from northwest."
As Richer spoke, four more soldiers appeared from the northwest.
Richer struck again with lightning, no hesitation.
"Old timer, you're going all out. Won't we get executed if caught after this mess?"
"When making trouble, don't think about cleanup. Think escape. We've cleared the nearest outpost. Finish before reinforcements and run."
Tae-jin had shoveled dirt like mad, but barely a fifth was gone.
"It's too heavy now that it's wet!"
Richer nudged Tae-jin aside.
"Good work. I'll handle the rest. Pavilion, you can carry a man and run, right?"
"Uh? Y-yeah, I can, Mage."
"Tae-jin, you can carry an extra bag and run, yeah?"
"I guess. Why? Want me to grab the bags?"
"Yeah. Go get 'em."
Richer positioned himself a bit from the burrow entrance and incanted his first spell. Concise and swift as always, but the dirt didn't budge.
"What spell was that?"
Richer didn't answer, chanting a second.
Tae-jin sensed a mana surge bigger than any Richer had shown before.
Not even those two elite Gate-guard mages together could muster half of this.
Richer's body trembled finely, eyes rolling back.
Blood vessels burst, turning the whites red; blood streamed from his nose.
Tae-jin hesitated. Something wrong? Should he help?
No way to know. Interfering with a mage at peak concentration could end badly. Definitely not good.
The spasms intensified; a tear of blood trickled from Richer's left eye.
This is bad. Got to stop him!
As Tae-jin lunged, Richer screamed.
A— aaah— urgh!
No human throat could make that. It echoed like sound ricocheting in a narrow cave, bouncing off the air itself.
At the same instant, the massive dirt pile writhed.
Every spell Tae-jin had cast looked like child's play; dozens of times more dirt lifted at once.
So much that Oboe, trapped amid it, flew up with the soil.
What the hell? How?
Tae-jin gaped at Richer, but Pavilion reached out and yanked the wide-eyed Oboe to safety.
"Hey, you okay? Hurt anywhere?"
"Uh... uh. I'm good!"
As they pulled Oboe clear, Richer collapsed.
The unknown tens-of-tons of dirt crashed down with a thunderous roar, spraying earth and grass everywhere.
Shocking, but no time to gawk.
The alarm magic still glowed pink, droning bwoooong. Had to flee before more troops.
Oboe staggered to his feet, unsteadily. Pavilion swiftly hoisted the limp Richer.
Bloodstains marred the old man's nose and both eyes.
Pavilion wiped the blood from Richer's nose and barked firmly.
"No dawdling! Follow me! Hurry!"
Raindrops shattering on leaves sounded like pursuing footsteps.
The three sprinted madly through the pouring forest.