Cornered Beast
Has Rebecca already switched sides?
Even with his breath caught somewhere up around his throat, Arendt didn't stop running.
This was another development he hadn't seen coming.
Granted, he'd kept the possibility of her having already joined the Broken Heart's Sword in the back of his mind.
But never in a million years had he imagined that Warren of all people would bring up the Frost-Tinged Touch.
And here I thought they were just one of the syndicate's money lines.
Knowledge of artifacts was the sort of information only the innermost circle of the cult shared among themselves.
With this, the odds that she was a follower of the evil god Chernion had just climbed considerably.
"How far do you plan on running?"
A voice, cold as a blade at his back — and then a merciless assault came crashing down.
"……!"
He barely managed to haul up his sword and turn the blow aside, but the price was a graceless tumble across the ground.
KRAAANG!
When Warren's curved blade slammed into the wall, shards erupted in every direction as though an explosion had gone off, kicking up a thick haze of dust.
Arendt hauled himself halfway upright.
"Wow……."
Everything hurt.
A few brief clashes, and it felt as though he'd burned through every last ounce of strength he had.
"There is nowhere left to run."
Just as he said, the two of them had somehow ended up in a dead-end alley.
A little moonlight would have been nice, but tonight the sky was nothing but a solid sheet of black. Twisting around, Arendt could see Warren — showing not a trace of exhaustion — closing in slowly.
He looked exactly like a beast toying with prey it had finally driven into a corner.
Clicking his tongue, Arendt stumbled backward — and realized the wall was pressed against his spine.
He could probably scale it and escape, but at this range, the instant he turned his back Warren would pounce and tear him to ribbons.
Arendt's hand tightened around his sword hilt — then, deliberately, he let the tension drain from his body.
"……Giving up?"
"No, hardly."
The moment that short reply left his lips, Warren sensed an enemy charging in from behind him.
"You son of a bitch, I mean it this time!"
The next instant, a sword bursting out from behind shredded the hem of Warren's robe. Warren staggered for a heartbeat, then recovered his composure and answered calmly.
CLANG!
Arthur deflected Warren's strike and planted himself in front of Arendt. Faced with this sudden interloper, Warren seemed briefly at a loss for words.
Even as he glared at Warren, Arthur didn't stop cursing a blue streak.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind, trying to get yourself killed? Is this what you meant by 'cooperate'?"
"Figured I'd hedge my bets. And it gives you a chance to repay your debt. Win-win."
Arendt tossed the reply back at his senior — who had started swearing the moment he laid eyes on him — and sloppily wiped the blood from his split lip.
The request he'd left with Arthur before going out had been nothing special: if I'm not back after sundown, come loiter around this area. That was all.
"Whatever, we'll argue later. Who the hell is that?"
"An assassin sent by Rebecca."
"And the plan is?"
Arendt flashed a wide grin at Arthur's question, delivered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Naturally."
"Seriously, the black-hearted little bastard."
Warren glanced down at his torn sleeve, then simply shrugged off the robe and flung it aside.
Beneath the pale wash of moonlight, Warren's massive frame stood fully revealed. Deep blue eyes brimming with quiet fury and unusually heavy features lent him the air of a wild beast.
"What the — you're not an imperial citizen, are you?"
"He's not human, so be careful."
Arthur's startled shout was met with a short warning from Arendt.
As if in answer, Warren let out a low growl.
"A shallow trick."
He flung his sword aside and charged straight at the two of them.
Arthur clicked his tongue and raised his blade to meet the attack.
KRAK!
Long, extended claws clashed against the sword, radiating a bone-deep menace. From the jutting muzzle came the low rumbling snarl of a beast. Stiff animal fur coated his swelling forearms.
For a moment, Arthur forgot the situation entirely and simply gaped.
"A wolf?"
The savage muzzle baring its fangs, the ears standing tall toward the sky, the coarse fur sheathing his entire body — nothing else could explain what Warren had become.
A clawed arm rose toward the heavens, then carved through empty air with enough force to split Arthur in two. But the chill surging at his back forced the blow to swerve aside mid-swing.
KRAAANG!
The arm, sheathed in thick leather, caught the frost-laden sword head-on.
The instant one forearm froze solid, Warren's face contorted. But his composure held barely a moment longer — he flexed his whole body to shake Arthur off, then swung his fist in a single arc and hammered Arendt squarely.
Struck head-on, Arendt went rolling across the ground in a graceless sprawl.
The instant Warren lunged for Arendt's throat, Arthur — moving a beat faster — cut him off.
KRAK-KRAK!
Claw met blade head-on, and sparks scattered.
The impossible force wrung a groan out of Arthur without his meaning to.
He managed to hold, but before long his arms had begun to tremble.
The moment Arthur gritted his teeth and let the enemy's blade slide off his own, Arendt slipped in as though taking a baton and slashed out. That attack, too, was turned aside with almost insulting ease.
The midnight exchange dragged on and on.
Wherever Arthur was pushed back, Arendt filled the gap; whenever Arendt went sprawling, Arthur stepped in front once more.
As time wore on, Warren grew visibly restless. The return deadline Rebecca had set was creeping closer.
"Damn it, stay out of my way!"
Finally, with a long roar, he flung Arthur bodily aside.
While Arthur lay crumpled on the ground where he'd landed, still struggling to collect himself, Warren charged at the defenseless Arendt.
There it is.
Arendt, too, stopped dodging — and drove his feet off the ground, straight toward Warren.
The darkness-drenched claws sank deep into Arendt's shoulder. In the same heartbeat, Arendt released his sword entirely, seized Warren's thick neck with both hands, and dragged every last thread of mana out of his body.
CRACK!
With a sound like electricity discharging, a blazing white light burst forth, and the beast's piteous shriek tore across the night sky.
"GWRAAAAAH!"
By the time Arthur — who had squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden blaze — lifted his head again, it was already over.
Arendt stood swaying unsteadily, the massive wolf sprawled limp on the ground before him, slowly catching his breath. Fresh white frost had settled in a soft drift all around him, as if winter itself had descended on that one small patch of the world.
The blood pouring from his savaged shoulder froze the instant it touched the ground.
Arthur, who had been staring blankly at the scene, snapped back to his senses and hurried over.
"Hey. You alive?"
"Barely. Almost died for real, you know."
Arendt grumbled through a bloodless face, then finally slumped down onto the ice-glazed ground.
As Arthur drew near, a chill out of all keeping with the season struck him full in the face. The entire battlefield was coated in a hard, killing frost.
The wolf above all lay frozen solid, as though it had been dug out of some midwinter mountain.
Seeing the white frost settled over the beast's stiffened fur, Arthur asked uneasily.
"Is it dead?"
"No. Its body temperature just plummeted, so it's more of a corpse-shaped problem at the moment……."
Arendt answered, drawing out each breath slowly.
"What was that just now? That light."
"A barrier. A very strong anti-magic one — enough to neutralize a non-human for a short while."
If Count Stadler hadn't happened to hand over the bracelet earlier today, he really would have been torn apart alive.
The moment the barrier activated, Warren had revealed his most vulnerable form — his true body. Seizing on that opening, Arendt had unleashed the Frost-Tinged Touch and frozen the beast solid.
"That's a werewolf, isn't it. But don't werewolves rarely leave their own territory? Why is he playing guard dog for a woman like Rebecca?"
"Who knows. You'd have to ask him."
When Arendt held out a hand, Arthur grasped it and pulled him upright. Watching him sway and somehow find his balance, Arthur clicked his tongue.
"Can you walk?"
"Why, if I can't, will you carry me?"
"Snarking away like that — you're fine, clearly."
Arthur snapped irritably, then ruffled his own hair in frustration.
"Let's head back for now. You're explaining everything to the Commander, face to face."
Instead of answering, Arendt merely shrugged with his good shoulder.
* * *
When the two of them staggered back in their wrecked state — dragging an enormous wolf behind them, no less — the barracks, naturally, erupted.
"He's a werewolf. Leave him like this and he'll freeze to death. Toss him in some warm water somewhere."
The knights were left utterly speechless — Arendt was spouting this nonsense with total composure while one of his arms hung in tatters, half torn clean off.
Once the knights hauled Warren away, Arendt and Arthur were themselves marched into Laios's office.
"What in the world do you two do to come back looking like this?"
It was far too late to summon a healer or a priest, so once again Richt drew the short straw for emergency treatment, winding bandages with barely contained irritation.
"AAgh, that hurts!"
"You know it hurts? Do you?"
Arthur, patched up with plasters here and there himself, yelped alongside him.
"How many lives do you have, five or something? What was your plan if I hadn't shown up?"
"That's why I asked you to come out. If you hadn't, I'd have become a vengeful spirit cursing your name. Or I could've just joined their side. They'd pay a lot better than an apprentice knight's pittance, after all……."
It was only after Richt smacked him upside the head that the grumbling Arendt finally went quiet.
Laios, watching his bickering subordinates with a weariness that went bone-deep, let out a short sigh.
"You're getting proper treatment the moment the sun rises. Now — the assassin Rebecca sent?"
"Yes. Though assassin may not be the right word — cleaner, maybe? Either way, that killer squad all the syndicate bosses keep mentioning in the same breath? This is the man behind it."
At Arendt's sullen reply, Arthur scowled.
"Right, and why is this guy serving under someone called Rebecca?"
"How would I know that? Interrogate him, torture him, dig it out of him — that's your department."
"Arendt."
The instant it looked like the two of them would start arguing again, Laios cut in smoothly.
"Did you anticipate a werewolf attack?"
"Don't be absurd."
Arendt moved to shrug out of habit — and silently screamed at the pain he'd somehow forgotten was there.
Three pairs of eyes bore into him, radiating disdain, as he clutched his arm and shuddered.
"You idiot."
"……Well, an attack of some form was coming, so yes, I expected it to a degree."
Arendt shot Arthur a sidelong glance at his muttered grumble, then managed to keep talking.
"Capturing whoever came after me would let us squeeze out all sorts of information, so yes, running around all over the place was deliberate too. I just didn't expect a monster like that to show up."
"And that barrier thing you mentioned earlier?"
"I was talking with His Highness the Crown Prince recently, and non-humans came up as a topic. So I simply asked Count Stadler to build one as a test."
Arendt answered even Arthur's question without a hitch — then looked at the three of them staring at him and grimaced.
"What's with those looks? What now, you have complaints?"
"What do you think?"
Arthur delivered the jab on behalf of both the Commander and Richt.
Their skepticism was only fair. Even Arendt had to admit the excuses he'd just produced were riddled with holes.
Before anyone could say more, he swerved the topic entirely.
"That aside — I picked up some rather useful information during the fight."
"……Which is?"
Fully aware of the sleight of hand, Laios still had no choice but to play along.
"That woman, Rebecca — she's in league with them."
"Them?"
"The Sword of the Broken Heart."
At Arendt's curt reply, all three faces hardened like stone.
"Damn it all to hell……."
Arthur's single curse spoke for the Commander and Richt both.