Aslan Never Tires
Restoring the body with Divine Power did not bring back lost blood or stamina. Among the Miracles, there were some that could replenish vitality, but for Abigail—who had only recently gained Divine Power—such high-level Miracles were out of the question. At best, because Rai had treated her wounds every day during training, she was skilled at healing and healing alone. She might as well have known nothing about any other Miracle.
Exhaustion had her seeing two Aslans, but she scowled and refused to show any weakness.
"You look pretty worn out. With a body like that, you can't run from me."
"You're one to talk."
Abigail sneered. For all his cocky talk, Aslan looked like a wreck. His armor hung in tatters, as if he'd just crawled off a battlefield, and he was caked in dust and sweat, as if he hadn't properly washed in ages.
"Some weird bastards latched onto me, that's why."
Aslan shrugged with an embarrassed smile, as if he were a little ashamed of it himself.
"Thanks for holding off the pursuers in my place."
"No, what the hell were those guys? The second they saw my face they started calling me a murderer, a criminal—I kept telling them I wasn't, but they wouldn't listen at all and just shoved spears in my face. Fine, the soldiers I get, but even the guy who was supposed to be the captain started swinging his sword yelling that a devil had appeared! I even lost the horse I borrowed from home!"
Aslan rapidly unloaded everything he'd been holding in, as if the ordeal had been truly miserable. It was amusing that he'd been treated like a criminal over his face, but Abigail didn't have time to sit there and listen.
"You've had it rough, so rest up here."
"Yeah. With you. Right here. I'm gonna rest plenty."
Filthy as he looked, a fierce aura poured off him as Aslan charged at Abigail.
"Don't get in my way—fuck off!"
Abigail swung her sword. Aslan rolled quickly to the side, dropped low, and came in.
Thud. Aslan's upper body lifted as her knee caught him square in the face, but even as blood sprayed from his nose he paid it no mind and locked onto her knee.
"Got you."
"Bullshit."
The instant Abigail tried to swing her sword, Aslan whipped the knee he was hugging out to the side. Like a man swinging a club, he held on and spun, and Abigail went sailing through the air along with him. He whirled her so hard that even when she tried to right herself, she couldn't overcome the centrifugal force and was laid out again.
"You crazy bastard, let go!!"
She kept kicking Aslan's face with her only free foot, but she couldn't break loose. After spinning for a long while the speed began to drop, and Aslan threw her to the ground and toppled over backward.
"You son of a..."
Abigail and Aslan both sprang up at the same time, but neither of them could stand properly. They staggered like a pair of drunks.
"See that? I came up with it on the way here... Bleeegh—"
Aslan couldn't beat the dizziness. He dropped to his knees and threw up.
"I'm gonna kill you."
Abigail dragged her sword along the ground and tried to close in on Aslan, who was still sitting there vomiting—but she kept walking in the wrong direction. She swung her sword weakly at empty air, then toppled over sideways. Aslan looked at her and laughed.
"Crazy bastard..."
"Huff, huff... My secret weapon works pretty well."
"Wipe that puke off your mouth before you talk."
She glared at him from where she lay on her side, and Aslan, looking sheepish, wiped around his mouth with his forearm.
If you'd looked at them right then, it wouldn't even have seemed like they were fighting—a strangely peaceful scene. The moment they recovered their sense of balance, they charged at each other again.
Last time he'd at least had a weapon. This time Aslan was completely unarmed. Abigail scowled at the sight, smashed him across the jaw, and asked:
"What happened to your sword?"
"I lost it when I collapsed a bridge while running away."
"You moron. Real nice work. A warrior losing his weapon."
They made ordinary conversation while Abigail kept pounding his face, and Aslan answered casually even as he took the hits. He couldn't beat her unarmed—not when she was keeping him in check with a blade and attacking with that kind of sharpness. He knew she might actually cut him if it came to it, so he couldn't press in deep, and he just kept eating Abigail's attacks.
It wasn't that he was afraid of getting hurt. Aslan had never had that kind of fear to begin with. What worried him now was taking a wound that made it hard to move and losing Abigail all over again.
But Aslan, fighting this passively, was far too easy an opponent for her. Happily beating the crap out of him, having recovered some of her stamina, she wore that characteristic sneering smile of hers and grabbed his wrist.
"Can't even use your strength properly anymore, huh?"
Stung by the mockery, Aslan pulled with everything he had—and Abigail used that force to charge in and headbutt him. When Aslan, having taken it on the nose, tried to back away, her elbow smashed into his temple.
A thud, and Aslan's body tilted. For the first time, his knee hit the ground. Not satisfied with that, Abigail grabbed his face and drove her knee into it with everything she had.
Aslan sprayed blood from his mouth as he fell backward. Abigail looked down at him for a moment, steadied her ragged breathing, and walked toward the horse she'd prepared in advance. She could feel her body growing heavy from the consecutive battles. She was mounting up when a shout came from far away.
"I'm not dead yet!"
Those eyes had been scary enough already. Now he was charging at her with blood streaming down his face—he looked like a devil himself. Abigail stared blankly for a moment, dumbfounded, then let out a hollow laugh and started driving the horse.
No need to deal with him. Over a short distance a warrior would be faster, but in his exhausted state he absolutely couldn't catch up.
"UOOOOOH!!"
As if mocking what she'd just thought, Aslan caught up to the horse running at full speed. It was a physique you couldn't imagine belonging to a human who had just been knocked unconscious.
"Shit, are your parents orcs or something?"
"Don't you DARE insult my parents!!"
With a booming voice, Aslan flew in, grabbed Abigail, and dragged her off the horse. Tangled together, they tumbled over several times before Abigail ended up on top of him, raining down punches.
"Stop! Being! A pain in my ass!! I don't have time for this!"
She kept hitting him while blowing a whistle, then snatched the horse that came running, mounted it, and took off. Aslan, who'd only been covering his face with his arms, sprang up and chased her again—but even with that exceptional physique, he couldn't do anything about the fatigue he'd accumulated. His breathing grew ragged.
"Seriously persistent."
Abigail swung her sword at Aslan clinging to the horse's tail, clicked her tongue in irritation, and spurred the animal on. Having fallen a bit behind dodging the blade, the distance between them started to grow. He clenched his teeth and ran, but the gap only kept widening. Abigail glanced back at Aslan—now so far he looked tiny, still chasing her—then clicked her tongue and left.
Once she was out of sight, Aslan's feet slowly came to a stop.
"Hah... hah... Dammit..."
Bent at the waist, gasping for breath, Aslan punched the tree beside him. It was an expression of rage, but when he hit it, the snow piled on the branches came pouring down and buried him. Looking thoroughly pathetic, Aslan let out a long sigh and straightened up.
"Damn it. I'm quitting these goddamn cigarettes."
He'd shown astonishing stamina, but he was furious, convinced he'd lost Abigail because cigarettes had sapped his endurance.
Smoke as much as you want. You're the one who'll go to ruin, not anyone else.
Remembering Rai snickering and mocking him, Aslan pulled the cigarette pack from his chest and threw it onto the piled snow.
"Hah—where the hell is that bastard Rai that I can't even see him."
Cursing Rai, who'd sent him and then hadn't shown so much as his nose, Aslan started running in the direction Abigail had gone.
Having safely shaken Aslan, Abigail rode on without rest toward the last remaining Filburt.
In truth, the Filburts had nothing to do with Linda's death—not directly. Dake Filburt was a noble who had become head of the family only last year, succeeding his late father. The one actually involved had been Dake's father, Mohid Filburt.
Mohid had never conspired with Yandes, the merchant who had orchestrated the whole scheme. He had simply been an incompetent lord. Duped by Yandes and desperate to pacify his enraged villagers, he had authorized Linda's burning at the stake without so much as a proper investigation—driven by the fear that they might revolt if he handled it poorly, and by the greed to keep his own seat secure.
Abigail had resolved to take her revenge when Rai guaranteed she could at least hold her own against Violet, even if winning would be hard. But by then, Mohid was already in the ground.
Her thirst for vengeance, however, had not diminished in the slightest. She had written "Filburt" as her target, and her goal was the entire Filburt family. The land Yandes had made a fortune from was Filburt territory. The family had raked in enormous sums from taxes alone. Their influence had swollen, and a house that had once held nothing more than a rural fief had become a name of some standing in the Bel Federation.
The Filburts had grown fat on Linda's blood and flesh. Returning them to the dirt was only right.
Gritting her teeth, burning with vengeance, Abigail rode toward the Filburts, barely stopping to rest. She knew those annoying bastards were chasing her from behind. She couldn't afford to waste time. Her body, pushed too hard for too long, had started to creak, but she forcibly recovered with Divine Power and pressed on toward the territory.
Having ridden with almost no sleep, she had put considerable distance between herself and her pursuers. She was formulating a plan, thinking she had to finish the job before they arrived, when Abigail heard something she could not believe.
Dake Filburt had been kidnapped.
The shock of that simple sentence wasn't hers alone. It seemed to have hit the people of the territory just as hard—the whole place felt unsettled. Some looked suspiciously at Abigail, an outsider with an appearance similar to the Devil of All Nations. Others stared at her outright.
"Rai... you bastard..."
But no one picked a fight with her. Not while she was radiating killing intent like that. Nobody knew who had kidnapped him, but Abigail was certain that bastard had done it, and she ground her teeth. No wonder he'd been nowhere to be seen when everyone else had shown up. He'd been pulling this.
She looked ready to chew Rai up and swallow him if he were standing in front of her. An arrow flew at her head.
Reacting to the sound of it tearing through the wind, Abigail snapped her head aside, put her hand on her sword, and dropped into a stance—but there was no one in the direction the arrow had come from. All she could see were people on the street, startled by the shot. Sensing neither killing intent nor presence, Abigail scowled.
An arrow loosed from such a long range it hadn't even registered on her detection. She'd never seen him use a bow, but there was only one person in her memory who could have this kind of skill.
A scrap of paper was tied to the arrow stuck in the wall. Swallowing a curse, Abigail tore it off roughly and checked the contents.
Let's finish this. Come to the location below.
She'd expected him to pull some pointless prank, but the uncharacteristically concise message made Abigail frown and crumple the paper. Her eyes turned cold. She trudged toward the location written beneath the message.
If he was going to interfere, she was ready to fight even if it was Rai. She'd used too many Miracles getting here—her Divine Power wasn't even coming out properly. It was supposed to be a power that came infinitely if you just prayed. Abigail hesitated for a moment, then spat and walked forward again.
For all that supposed compassion, He hadn't even saved Linda. When she'd searched for Him, desperate, He hadn't so much as glanced her way. Kind Linda had burned to death, and those sons of bitches had lived large without ever receiving divine punishment.
When Abigail arrived—her vengeance having reached even the gods—Rai was drinking tea with Dake Filburt. Seeing them sitting leisurely in the middle of the forest with chairs and a table set out, Abigail's face crumpled.
Dake Filburt, with his calm and gentle features, stopped moving for a moment when he saw her, then soon looked at her with eyes full of pity. Abigail, displeased by that gaze, was about to shout when Rai set down his teacup and spoke.
"Long time no see. You've had it rough. Let's have a cup of tea."
"Why the hell would I?"
"To finish your revenge."
She didn't know what drinking tea had to do with revenge, but Abigail looked silently into Rai's serious eyes, then dropped into the chair across from him. Dake, finding her glare—as if she might charge at any moment—more than a little burdensome, averted his gaze with a bitter expression.
"This'll be the first and last teatime for you two, so let's enjoy it."
Rai smiled brightly and poured tea into both of their cups.