The Hand That Lurks on the Island (5)
Chester ran through the forest with Monia in his arms.
Incredible.
His legs moved exactly as he willed them. He had always taken care of his body and trained hard enough that he thought he moved well enough—but this was on another level entirely.
It was like a carriage whose axle had been warped, constantly creaking and catching every three turns so that the twisted axle and wheels clattered against each other… only for the axle and wheels to be replaced with proper ones, carefully maintained, thoroughly oiled, and then hitched to a legendary steed that thundered down a perfect road.
Every breath he took, every answering movement of his body, felt as if he had been a curled-up infant until this moment and was only now stretching wide awake.
This is my body?
He could almost feel every single drop of blood coursing through his veins. Through that blood, his body received stimulation. Electricity seemed to race through the stimulated flesh, and senses that had been shut tight until now answered the call and woke.
His vision was endlessly sharp. His ears were flung wider open than usual, catching even the faint sound of distant water and the breathing of beasts far away.
He was running with Monia held against his chest, yet he felt not the slightest inconvenience. Was it because she had grown so thin and light?
No.
As much as Monia had lightened, Chester’s strength had grown.
So this is the Grace of the Summit.
It was power beyond anything he had imagined. And still, in Black Wind’s hand, there remained the Grace of the Summit that was meant to be given to Chester—an ore that shed blue light. If they set it in a jar and filled the jar with water, they would be able to make that mysterious water that healed wounds as swiftly as the lake itself, whenever they needed it.
What a gift I’ve been given.
Truly, an enormous gift. The life he should have lost. Monia. Their future. He had received so much.
Chester looked down at Monia sleeping quietly in his arms.
Having run without rest from the Summit all the way down to their home on the lower level, Chester wiped away the few beads of sweat that had slipped free and carefully laid Monia down.
“I’ll be right back.”
After settling her, Chester stepped outside. Four People of the Summit were waiting for him.
Four young warriors gathered with Black Wind—who had only recently become a young warrior himself—at their head. They might be called “young warriors,” but among the People of the Summit they were recognized as true warriors. In human terms, they were something like knights.
Only Black Wind could speak with Chester, so communication worked by Chester talking to Black Wind, who then passed the words on to the other young warriors.
Chester explained the weapons they possessed—the ship, the cannons, the gunpowder—and told them that those had to be destroyed first.
“What is an explosion?”
The problem was that explaining gunpowder required explaining the concept of an explosion first.
He thought about how to put it.
“Hurts more to get hit with a closed fist than an open palm, right?”
“Yeah.”
“An explosion is fire hitting you with a closed fist.”
“……!”
A little sun clenching its fist and striking? Just brushing against it with an open hand already hurt—what would a clenched fist feel like?
The young warriors who heard the explanation through Black Wind stirred restlessly.
Watching them, Chester thought of the sailors still aboard the ship.
He had no intention of touching the ship itself. He planned to steal supplies, yes, but he had never meant to do anything to the vessel. The ship was their escape route. It was the means that would let them flee the island and withdraw, and he had intended to leave that escape route open so they would give up quickly.
Cut off the escape route and a cornered rat will bite the cat—they would fight to the death.
But none of that mattered anymore. He no longer felt any desire to let even one of them live and return home.
Kill them all.
Sink the ship. Kill everyone who had come ashore. Not a single one would leave alive.
No rational heart or thought remained.
Resentment that he had nearly died by their hands—yes, that existed. But that resentment was not the motive for this.
No—the grudge of nearly dying had not affected Chester much at all.
In his life he had killed many living things. He had killed a great many of those sailors as well. So if he himself were killed someday, he might resent it, yet he also thought it would simply be the way of things.
As much as he had lived by killing, someday he too would die and become prey so that something else could continue living.
That was the order of the world.
But they had gone after Monia. Monia.
The resentment of nearly having his precious woman taken from him remained far stronger than the resentment of nearly losing his own life.
That morning the sailors talked about the island’s demon while they ate.
“So the demon really died by the boss’s hand?”
“Must have. The bastard who attacked so relentlessly never showed up yesterday, did he?”
“True. But why are we not supposed to take the stuff left on the beach?”
The supplies Chester had secretly stolen from the ship still lay exactly where they had been left, near the forest by the shore.
“Said it’s an offering.”
“What kind of offering?”
“Looks like the boss took a liking to the demon. Leave that stuff alone, he says.”
“Hmm.”
“Mess with it and you might get the demon’s curse, you know.”
The sailor who spoke tore off a piece of dried fish, chewed it thoroughly, and washed it down with rum.
“I want meat.”
“Go fish for it.”
“Not fish! Proper meat.”
“If there’s no demon on the island, we could hunt while we search for Lady Monia, right?”
“Nice. Any pigs? Pigs? I want pork.”
“Even if there are, they’d be wild boars. Boars are omnivores. Herbivores taste better than meat-eaters or omnivores.”
“Right. If you’re going to eat meat in a place like this, rabbit or bird is the safest bet for flavor.”
“Haven’t seen any birds on this island, though.”
After filling their stomachs with dried fish, each of them downed a bottle of rum and traded idle talk while waiting for Rotin to call them. One of them called out to a friend standing in front of the signboard.
“…….”
“Hey! Don’t just stand there—come eat.”
“Hey, am I seeing things?”
“Huh? What?”
“I don’t know… looks like some of the rope from that pile of supplies is missing.”
“What?”
The sailors who heard him gathered at the signboard and stared out at the shore where the supplies were stacked.
They compared the casual glance they had given it while sitting a moment ago with the careful look they were giving it now—but who among them would have examined and memorized something like that in detail? And it wasn’t even a single crate; it was part of a huge pile of rope. No one could tell whether some of it had disappeared.
“That so?”
“I can’t tell.”
“Yeah? Maybe I was wrong…”
“You’re just hungry and seeing things. Come on, let’s go.”
The sailor who had kept staring at the shore sighed and turned to follow his friends.
“I’d rather have meat than seafood.”
“We were just talking about that.”
After they were gone, human silhouettes carefully emerged from the undergrowth and began moving the rope again.
Before long, of all the piled supplies, only the crates remained. The rope had completely vanished.
“And then you do it like this.”
Chester had dismantled the ship’s rope—thick as a woman’s wrist—and from it made many thinner cords, then wove those into nets.
“…….”
“…….”
“…….”
“…….”
The four People of the Summit who had listened to Chester’s explanation simply stared blankly at what he was doing.
“L-like this?”
“No, like this! This!”
“Hah, idiots. Unlike you lot, I know how to make a net! …Huh? Wait, this isn’t right.”
“Black Wind really is an idiot.”
“Right! He just became a young warrior and he’s trying to teach us!”
“That’s why you can’t do it.”
“Shut up!”
Chester watched the People of the Summit start fighting among themselves, let out a small sigh, and took all the rope himself to begin making the nets.
“S-sorry.”
“We’re good at fighting, though.”
“Yeah.”
“Even if you apologize, Chester can’t understand you.”
“You apologize for us!”
“Yeah! Yeah!”
“Those who have must give!”
“Heh.”
After making nets for the four of them, Chester showed them how to use the nets—gathering nearby rocks inside a net so they could carry many stones at once.
“Oh.”
“Good. When there’s nothing around to throw, this’ll be useful.”
“I want one.”
Chester told them that once this fight was over he would give them the nets as gifts, and the four People of the Summit who received them danced with delight.
Watching them dance, Chester gave a small snort of laughter, then unwound the cord wrapped around the handle of Monia’s machete.
The cord had been wound to fit Monia’s grip and did not suit Chester’s hand, so he rewound the handle cord to fit his own.
When he finished wrapping it, Chester gripped the machete and swung it a few times, checking the fit.
Sorry, Monia. I’m going to use this for a bit.
He examined the cord, then unwound it again. This time he pressed a nail he had pulled from a crate against the machete’s handle and wrapped the cord over it.
The instant the nail touched it, the machete began to vibrate fiercely.
“Huh?”
“What’s that?”
Once the cord was fully wrapped, Chester gripped the madly vibrating machete tightly and swung it at a thick tree.
The thick trunk parted as if it were butter. Satisfied with the performance, Chester nodded.
“Gather rocks, then meet me here.”
“That looks fun. I want one.”
“How many rocks do we need?”
“I’ll gather the most!”
“No, I will!”
After the People of the Summit left, Chester remained alone, feeling the machete’s vibration in his hand as he looked toward the ship.
Can I beat that monster?
A small unease. But that unease was immediately buried beneath the resolve that he must win.
If I can’t win this time, the next time a similar enemy comes after Monia I won’t be able to protect her.
He would win. Without fail.
The veins in Chester’s hand, clenched around the machete, writhed.