The Pursuers, Once More (3)

"Poi."

Mungchi was waiting for me in the courtyard of the manor, hands hidden behind her back, eyes cast down toward the ground.

"It's cold out here. Why were you waiting? Go inside."

"N-no, is fine, Poi."

She had been fidgeting for some reason, and now she bowed her head with a soft thump.

"I am sorry."

"For what?"

"Killing person. Poi not tell me to. Me kill him. I am sorry."

"……You're apologizing for killing someone I didn't tell you to?"

"Yes. That one. That one too."

In my experience, confessing a mistake before you get chewed out is a fairly useful survival skill — one that works especially well in organizations with rigid hierarchies.

Which is exactly why I didn't care for it.

I had no intention of being Mungchi's boss, and besides, what she was saying missed the point entirely.

"……"

As I wondered how I was supposed to explain why one shouldn't kill people, an involuntary, hollow laugh slipped out of me.

Ridiculous, really.

Since arriving in this world, I had killed more than two hundred people. And here I was, about to launch into a lecture on the sanctity of human life.

"You did well today."

"……Yes?"

I kept my voice low, glancing over the young maids scurrying back and forth.

"The old man you killed — Maurio, I think his name was. A complete human piece of garbage."

"Eh? Garbage?"

"A bad man. You killed him well."

"……Oh."

At my sudden praise, Mungchi nodded along. She was pretending it was nothing, but her heels kept bouncing — clearly in a very good mood.

"But, Mungchi."

"Yes?"

"You got lucky this time."

"Lucky is good?"

"Yes. This time, he was a man who deserved to die. But what if he hadn't been?"

I steered her toward one side of the courtyard, out of sight of the changing guards, and continued.

"What if you just went and killed someone, and it turned out they weren't actually that bad?"

"Eh……"

Those big, dark eyes read so easily — and then what do I do?

I scratched my eyebrow and shrugged.

"Then bad things happen. To you, and to me too. Hmm — your heart might hurt. And you might end up with a bounty on your head, running from hunters."

"I see……"

The blank look on her face drew a sigh out of me.

"……In any case, don't kill people without reason. If it ever seems like someone has to die, ask me first."

"Yes! Understood!"

Her answers came bright and chipper whenever it bordered on an order. It suddenly reminded me of the swordsman's background story.

The Mugeomhoe — the Swordless Society — an organization that operated in the shadows between the five kingdoms of the East. The swordsman was one of its secret products, a kind of bred hitman.

Her broken moral compass and her ingrained obedience to command probably came from all of that.

"Still, Mungchi."

"Yes?"

"Killing someone is a very…… hmm, it's a heavy thing. Even if you get my permission, that doesn't lift the weight of it."

"Eh……"

"So you have to judge for yourself, and be able to carry the responsibility. Until that judgment becomes second nature, ask me first. Understand?"

Touchingly enough, Mungchi's face had taken on a serious cast at some point. She sat in silence, chewing over my words, then nodded.

The first thing to greet us as we stepped into the manor's back yard was Utekwai's bellow.

"Phoenix! Late again!"

"……You feeling all right? You should be resting through today, at least."

"No. More rest, body spreads out like cow ass."

He had been in the middle of training, apparently — his bare torso glistened with sweat. Around him, Amias's crew lay sprawled in the dust, everyone but Buney thoroughly wrung out.

"Haah, hah. You've come, my lord."

"Where's Buney?"

Steedman, steam practically rising off his bald head, pushed himself up to answer.

"Mmh. He's, ah, learnin' his letters. From that scribe fella — Beldin, or whatever his name is."

"This early in the morning?"

"Aye. And I'll tell you, that rotten bastard's got drive, I'll give him that."

I snorted at his grumbling.

"That drive? I'm the one who ordered it."

"Er, what?"

The demon-blade Simos was out in the back yard as well. She flinched at my gaze, but only for a moment before calmly offering a greeting.

"Sir Phoenix."

"Were you training with them too?"

"Yes. To adjust to my remaining eye, and, ah, to pick up a few scraps here and there."

"Is that so?"

When I stared at her steadily, her smoke-gray eyes trembled faintly.

The demon-blade Simos — no, Mosis of the blue hair — still radiated fear of me. My little performance five days back must have been quite convincing.

"……Simos."

"Y-yes?"

"Later — hmm, around sundown, let's talk for a bit. There's something I want to ask you."

When I flashed her a smile, she swallowed hard and nodded.

"……Yes. Understood."

The star of the resumed training was none other than Mungchi. Well, she was the new face, so it made sense.

My morning walk had already loosened me up nicely, so I went straight into a sparring match with her.

I'd worried whether Mungchi could understand a fight where the goal was to not hurt your opponent, let alone kill them — but as it turned out, she knew what sparring was.

"Alright, start whenever you're ready."

"……Eh."

When I rapped my knuckles on my shield, she gripped her club with a hint of hesitation. She didn't look thrilled about it — but that didn't last.

"I, that is—"

"Whoa."

A short gasp escaped from somewhere nearby. It was because of the aura Mungchi gave off.

The air of clumsy bashfulness, with just a touch of the goofball, vanished in an instant. What remained radiated a sharp killing intent, like a blade whetted to a mirror finish.

"Hm."

A pleasant thrill of competitiveness hammered at my chest. I had a feeling this would be an enjoyable bout……

To cut to the conclusion: my instincts were completely wrong.

Sparring with Mungchi was neither fun nor instructive. It wasn't so much a gap in skill as a matter of compatibility.

Fundamentally, my style was to fortify my defense and use my superior physical abilities to grind an opponent down. The martial arts revived along with Phoenix's memories, the know-how honed training with Ulkar's knights, the Nabuk Utekwai had taught me — all of that layered on top — but at its core, that's what it was.

Mungchi, on the other hand, fought by evading her opponent's attacks and hunting for a single decisive blow.

Thanks to that matchup, she couldn't crack my guard and just orbited around the edges, while I couldn't pin her down and ended up chasing her in circles like a dog after a cat.

In the end, I let out a sigh and called off the pointless bout.

"That's enough. Let's stop here."

"……Yes. *Hah* Yes, sir."

The performance, built on her outstanding agility and flexibility, bordered on acrobatics and was genuinely impressive — but Mungchi's stamina was on the weaker side.

Well, fair enough. By character-sheet standards, her Vitality was worse than even Ellen's.

What surprised me more than that, though, was her swordsmanship.

Mungchi never once tried to cross her club with mine. At first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I thought she was avoiding it out of lack of strength, but when I forced the issue, her bladework itself turned out to be rather clumsy. To put it coldly, she was far worse than Grania, the mercenary we'd met back in Southharbor.

She must have caught my disappointment, because Mungchi's face darkened as she caught her breath.

"I-I, *whew* — other things, me like."

"You like other things?"

"Yes. Sword fight, can't do. Other things, *hah* — like."

"……So swordsmanship isn't your specialty, huh."

"Specialty, have. Hiding, throwing, and, eh, poison — those are specialty."

And with that, she giggled — hihi.

……A swordsman whose weakness is swordsmanship. Somehow that feels familiar.

Well, it's only natural for a build specialized in covert arts and body techniques over sword techniques. That didn't stop the hollow laugh from escaping.

"No laughing! Mungchi, your skill is trash!"

"Eek."

The one who made the grinning Mungchi shrink back was Utekwai, teeth bared in a huge grin.

"You. Fight."

Surprised for only a moment, Mungchi turned on him with wary eyes. Utekwai chuckled, hefted his six-stave club, and beckoned to her.

"Hrr-hrr. No rolling your eyes back, just come at me. I am not Phoenix. No need for pretending."

Mungchi turned to me, seeking permission. His aura was plenty fierce.

"Uh……"

A bout between a tattoo-specialized berserker and a covert-arts-specialized swordsman.

The outcome was obvious, but I snorted and nodded anyway.

"But why Mungchi, of all people?"

"What do you mean, why?"

At Steedman's retort, the freckled Mira furrowed her brow.

"What do I mean, you blockhead? The pig Phoenics used to raise was named Mungchi."

"Oh. Right. It was."

Brushing the dirt off her knees, Mira lowered her voice.

"Doesn't the whole thing seem just a little too neat? The name, and all — and the pig vanishes, and then who shows up right after? That girl."

As she spoke, Mira shot a sideways glance at the corner of the back yard's outer wall.

There, an exotic Eastern beauty sat crouched with a sulky expression. The huge boot-print stamped into her side and her dust-caked clothes told the story of what she'd just been through.

"So? You're saying she's that piglet?"

"Who knows. But the way Phoenics glosses over it? Suspicious, if you ask me."

Meeting Mira's glittering eyes, Steedman pulled a sneer.

"You're talking nonsense. How does a pig turn into a person, you daft woman?"

"……Daft? You bald little stump of a—"

Just as Mira was winding up to snarl something, their leader, Amias, cut her off.

"If you've got energy to waste on temper, start packing up. Those two look about finished anyway."

What Amias was pointing at was Phoenix and Utekwai, who had claimed the middle of the back yard.

Both bare from the waist up, they grappled shoulder to shoulder like a bear and a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bull, trading position back and forth. Utekwai slipped a reckless charge and went to crush him under that massive frame and lock in a hold — but the fallen Phoenix shot his legs out. When Utekwai shook free of the legs coiled around his thigh and waist, Phoenix went for his ankle and the back of his knee instead.

Under Phoenix's relentless assault, Utekwai finally gave up his neck.

Utekwai's face, a shade redder than usual, rapped twice on the forearm choking him out — and Phoenix collapsed onto the ground, letting out a shout of triumph. A victory won in three rounds.

"Ah, fidhos!"

Utekwai rose, brushing the sand from his body, muttering something in his mother tongue. Amias hurried over and held out a water skin.

Phoenix took his turn with the water skin after Utekwai, drained it, then poured the rest over his head. Streams of water split into rivulets down his chiseled muscle.

"……Wow. Insane."

Leaving behind a dryly swallowing Mira, the archer Cole approached Phoenix.

"Sir Phoenix."

"Hm?"

"Someone is watching us."

"……From where?"

"The third window on the second floor. Third from the left."

Phoenix wrung out his hair and glanced that way. Then he let out a soft laugh.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Since the two of you began the Nabuk."

"……I see."

He nodded and gave Cole's shoulder a couple of pats.

After stopping briefly on the second floor and returning to my room, I scratched my eyebrow and asked Ellen:

"……Why have you been meditating since morning? Come eat."

The one meditating on the bed slowly opened her eyes and shook her head.

"Food isn't what matters right now."

"Then what is?"

"I awakened new spells. Two of them."

"……Ah. Right."

Come to think of it, her level had jumped all at once, and she'd had a lot of bonus points to distribute.

She had learned two new spells.

The first was Blade Gale.

A wind-element spell that dealt slashing damage in a narrow range. It was also the very spell Ellen had wielded through the power of the Baton of the West Wind when we first met.

The second was Frost Armor.

As the name suggested, it was a frost-element protective spell — a bit finicky to use, but a genuinely useful skill. A spell that would shore up, if only a little, Ellen's abysmal survivability.

"……You don't look happy about it, though? More spells is a good thing."

"It's not that they're bad."

Ellen pressed her lips together before continuing.

"But it rubs me the wrong way."

"Rubs you the wrong way?"

"They're not the spells I wanted."

"……Over something like that?"

When I gave her an incredulous look, she shook her head with utter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seriousness.

"'Something like that'? I've spent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nearly a month meditating and drilling nothing but earth-element spells. And then I go and learn two completely unrelated ones."

"Drilling spells? You can learn magic that way?"

"It depends on talent. I got results with that method once, so I was hoping it would work again, but……"

The results she meant were Lightning — a spell she'd picked up entirely on her own, without me spending a single point on it. I remembered being briefly flustered when I saw it on her character sheet at the time.

Looking down at Ellen's wounded expression, I let a wry smile slip.

"What spell were you trying to learn, then?"

"……There is one."

"Which one? Tell me."

"What would you even do if you knew? Nothing changes either way."

"Hmm. Well, no, I suppose not. Still, tell me once."

"I'm curious, that's all."

When I sat down beside her and pressed, Ellen relented with a feigned sigh.

"……Passage of Earth."

"Passage of Earth?"

An earth-element skill ranked 2.5. It was also the spell the mage Siren had once wielded using something like a dryad's beard.

"It seemed like a tricky one to use, from what I saw last time."

"……It isn't efficient, no. But the ways you can apply it are endless."

"Huh. Is that so."

I nodded along for a moment, then voiced my doubt.

"But, earth-element spells? Really?"

"That's what I wanted."

"The elements you're good at are fire, frost, and wind. Wouldn't it be better to specialize in those?"

"Nonsense."

She lowered her head with a resolute expression.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again — what matters is balance. Only a mage who can command all five elements with total freedom can call herself a true grand mage."

"……Hm. I see?"

A mage who commands all five elements with total freedom. In other words, an All-Master?

In the game, that had been an inefficient joke of a build.

You could learn all five elements, sure, but you'd run short on skill points and end up with a dumpster-fire character. You wouldn't even be able to afford your ultimates.

Trickster suddenly came to mind.

A buggy character who cast Dragon's Breath — the fire-element ultimate — despite being nothing but an ice-and-lightning mage……

Come to think of it, Ellen had already picked up free skill points more than once. If she kept growing like this and accumulated enough points, couldn't she become a true All-Master after all?

"……Nah, no way."

"What?"

When Ellen gave me a puzzled look, I shook my head and stood up.

"Nothing. Let's go eat."

After the meal, Mungchi and I left the manor. We were going to buy her equipment.

Amias's crew came along too — apparently they needed to restock torches, lamp oil, arrows, and the like.

Ellen stayed behind at the manor to practice her new spells, and Utekwai went back to his room for more sleep.

While Amias's crew visited the general store, we made for the outfitter's. Being a small fief, apparently, it sold weapons and armor — and clothes besides.

I picked out yet another shield — I'd lost count of how many by now — and grabbed a few throwing spears as well. Nothing in the armor section seemed worth the coin, so I skipped it.

Rufus, was it? That armor was decent. I'd have to ask Dionea to lend it to me again.

Mungchi, meanwhile —

"Wow. All of this, how much?"

"Hihi."

She gathered up an awful lot of things.

Unhappy with the footwear selection, she grabbed a pair of light boots as well, then picked out a robe that fell to her thighs and a set of full plate. She chose a spike-shaped dagger and a short sword, one each, and threw in five light throwing knives besides.

As if even that weren't enough, she spent a long while peering around the shop.

"What is it? Looking for something?"

"Xiao nu. That is — like this — thing that shoots arrows."

Once the shopkeeper deciphered her gestures, he quickly waved his hands.

"If you mean a crossbow, we've none of those. Don't sell them."

"If no crossbow, then give string, please."

"String?"

"Yes. Crossbow, give string, please."

"Don't have that either. We sell finished goods here, miss. Not string and such."

"Uuu."

Perhaps because Mungchi pulled such an adorably crestfallen face, the shopkeeper threw in a sword-sash that fit her, free of charge.

By the time we left the outfitter's, we'd dropped a full fifteen silver coins.

"Poi."

Mungchi, now wearing everything she'd bought, rested her hand on the hilt at her hip — shk — and looked up at me.

Only moments ago she'd been sulking over the crossbow, but now her eyes were sparkling with something like expectation. What now?

"……Hmm. It suits you?"

"Hehe."

Bullseye.

Once we'd rejoined Amias's crew after their shopping, we strolled back toward the manor through the lazy streets.

And then, we witnessed a most unexpected sight.