Changeling (1)
The wilderness lay under a lonely light.
An empty vista.
Nothing was there except the towers he had seen from the bridge.
Only the dry wind welcomed Lawrence as he stepped into the barren plain.
His mind was a tangle.
His chest felt tight, as if a sweet potato had lodged in his throat.
In a landscape so desolate, it only made his heart ache for no good reason.
His mood sank lower and lower.
He should have had no tears left to shed, and yet the corners of his eyes stung.
“You think too much. That’s your problem.”
Yerina’s warning suddenly flashed through his mind.
Luca, who had traveled with him for a time, had agreed with that, too.
Lawrence, forever full of thoughts, could never simply empty his head.
How had he done it then?
Fortunately, the memory came back quickly.
“Empty your head and feel with your heart….”
Lawrence murmured Yerina’s words under his breath.
Don’t think about complicated things.
Empty his head, and walk wherever his feet took him.
...But wasn’t the situation a little different now?
Back then, he had been focused on the acrobatic troupe’s performance.
Now, he was just walking alone across the wilderness.
Even if he wanted not to think, he couldn’t help it.
“Empty your head,” he called it, but wasn’t it really just that the performance had been fun enough to hold his attention?
After all, the person who’d said it, Yerina, had been enjoying the festival herself.
A chuckle escaped him before he knew it.
Thoughts he’d summoned in order to empty his head only kept chaining into one another.
Still, maybe it didn’t matter.
Thanks to thinking of those two, his heart felt much lighter.
It was a waste to spend any longer sinking in sorrow.
He lifted his head and looked ahead.
The precious connections he had made along the road were with him now.
The outline of the tower began to sharpen little by little.
But the structure rising so far into the sky was not one tower.
Three towers.
A strange unease crawled down his spine.
The tower’s surface shivered, like waves beating against a shore.
Twined together in a spiral, the towers almost looked like a single key.
He knew it at once.
This tower was the Key to the Spirit World he had gathered.
The grimoire that opened the door to the Spirit World.
Whoever had made it, the name suited it perfectly.
He took one step toward the tower.
That was when it happened.
Suddenly, a fierce gale roared to life.
“...!”
If he let his guard down for even a moment, it felt as though he’d be blown away on the spot.
He couldn’t even keep his eyes open.
He was nothing more than a scarecrow standing before a storm.
He couldn’t even think of moving forward; his feet kept sliding backward instead.
He raised a hand to grab anything at all, but too late he realized the surroundings were utterly empty.
There was no twist, no reprieve.
The wind flung Lawrence far away.
“......”
He got to his feet in an awkward crouch.
It wasn’t so much painful as it was disgusting.
He coughed from all the dust he had swallowed.
Lifting his head, he stared at the Key to the Spirit World.
As if nothing had happened, not a breath of wind stirred around it.
This time, he approached carefully.
He reached out before taking a step, testing the air with his hand.
One step. Then another, checking where the wind began.
And yet this time, there was no wind.
Lawrence tilted his head, then put strength into his foot.
The same gust hurled him backward.
“......”
He couldn’t even swear.
It was deliberate, no question about it.
The Key to the Spirit World was clearly refusing him.
“Holy Shield.”
This time, he went in fully prepared.
With Holy Shield spread around him, he advanced toward the tower.
Once again, the rude gale drove away the uninvited guest.
Crack.
A nasty sound rang out from the Holy Shield where it met the wind.
Watching the fractures begin to spread, Lawrence hastened his steps.
He couldn’t keep dumping mana into it forever.
He had to pass through this wind and reach the tower before it was too late.
But his bold advance lasted only an instant.
The closer he got to the key, the stronger the wind became, until it finally shattered Holy Shield as well.
“......”
This wouldn’t work.
Lawrence sat down and propped his chin on his hand.
How was he supposed to get through this wall of wind?
Holy Shield?
He had already failed.
Even if he used an enhanced version of Holy Shield, nothing would change.
In fact, it would only burn through mana faster and leave him exhausted in no time.
What if he moved forward as cautiously as possible, then cast Holy Shield the moment the wind started?
A shallow idea.
The farther he drew near the tower, the stronger the wind became.
Even if he somehow maintained the strength of Holy Shield, he was the one who had to keep moving his feet.
There was no doubt he’d manage only a few steps before being blown right back here.
A shield wouldn’t do it.
But his opponent was wind.
It had no form to seize and no body to break.
Then…
What if he used the same wind?
Lawrence stood up.
“Wind.”
A soft breeze stirred in his hand.
Even in the holy land, the wind Acheron had arranged for him had once saved his life.
He looked at Wind for a moment, then nodded.
He could do this.
Even wind had paths of its own.
If he could use Wind to create one of those paths, he might be able to pass through this wall of wind after all.
Lawrence got to work at once.
He didn’t need to plunge straight into the gale.
He gradually adjusted to the rising wind and cast Wind again and again.
It was harder than he had expected.
The wind wall, solid as stone, simply ignored Wind.
Lawrence was knocked back once more, only to push himself up again.
Who said he was giving up?
If once didn’t work, then he’d try twice.
If twice didn’t work, then three times.
All he had to do was keep trying until the wind wall was forced to move along the path Wind had made.
How many attempts had it been?
At last, the wall of wind began flowing along the path Wind had carved.
He couldn’t afford to miss this chance.
Even with a path in place, the wall of wind was obviously far greater than he was.
From the inside out.
He loosened, one by one, the restraints that had bound the free wind.
Because the work was so delicate, sweat kept trickling down his forehead.
It slipped over his eyelids and into his eyes.
But even that pain couldn’t scatter Lawrence’s focus.
Long ago, he had embraced with his whole body the freedom whispered by the wind.
The dreamlike scenery Veles had shown him.
Memories of soaring through the sky left no room for noise.
The same was true now.
He was not breaking the wind wall.
He was guiding it.
It was enough to show it the road.
All that remained was to wait for the wind to return to its proper place on its own.
By the time Lawrence lowered his hand, the wall of wind that had surrounded the tower was gone without a trace.
“Hoo.”
A faint headache stirred at his temples.
He had used a great deal of mana, yes, but part of it was from the intense focus of searching out the wind’s path one thread at a time.
He moved a hand to his eyes.
As the heat behind his eyelids cooled, his head cleared.
Right. For now, he was fine.
Reassuring himself with the thought, Lawrence reached the foot of the tower.
It was much larger than he had expected.
He had thought it might be about the height of an adult man.
But standing this close, he couldn’t even see the top, no matter how far he tilted his head back.
There didn’t seem to be any structure meant for entering it.
No door connected to the inside could be seen anywhere.
That left only one thing.
The moment he reached out to place a hand on the tower, Lawrence looked up.
Something was there.
Something red was falling from the top of the tower toward the ground.
He sprang back in haste.
The thing that crashed to earth left behind a massive scar.
A cloud of dust rose up.
The thing that got to its feet, one hand pressed against the ground, was a person.
No. Was it even right to call it a person?
Its shape was unquestionably human.
But the figure revealed through the settling dust was somehow too strange to be called human.
Black armor gleamed with the same sheen as the tower itself.
A dark red cloak concealed its gaunt frame.
The cloak rippled like waves in the dry wind.
Silver and gold embroidery traced delicate patterns, faintly glowing with a soft luster.
The hair that spilled from beneath the helm was snake-like in appearance.
Pale skin.
Its skin, as if reflected from water, carried a sickly hue.
An uncanny gaze.
The instant those red eyes found Lawrence, the thing moved.
“Holy Shield!”
It had been wise not to let his guard down.
Light and shadow twisted into a filthy blur, and then a single streak pierced Holy Shield.
“――!”
No scream came out.
Lawrence, unable to fully absorb the impact, was thrown backward.
There was no time to worry about the pain.
The thing’s movement wasn’t over yet.
Leaping high from where it stood, it drew back its unnaturally long arm.
A spear-throwing stance.
Realizing it, Lawrence raised his hand.
“Holy Shield!”
It was released.
Like hurling a Shadow Spear.
Flames scattered from the spear that embroidered the air.
The spear it threw shattered Holy Shield in an instant.
“Ghk!”
A cut ran across him.
Twisting his body with all his strength was the best he could do.
The spear that had pierced his side left a massive crack in the ground.
He couldn’t feel anything.
It was terrifying even to look at the place the spear had gone through.
With trembling hands, Lawrence pulled out his holy water.
There was no time to think.
He sprayed the holy water Yerina had given him over the wound.
“......”
His lips trembled violently.
This wasn’t like a potion.
Instead of pain, a warm sensation awakened his nerves.
He didn’t have the courage to check how bad the wound was.
Correction: with that thing still in front of him, there was no room to look away.
The spear was definitely still stuck in him, and yet in the thing’s hand another spear had already appeared.
A black spear.
For an instant, had flames flickered along its shaft, or was that just his imagination?
No. It hadn’t been imagination.
It was definitely burning.
Whatever trick it had used, this was no ordinary spear.
Defense was not a path to victory.
Holy Shield was not a superior defensive spell.
Its true value only emerged when used against illusions.
Then attack was the only answer.
“Shadow Spear.”
A spear to answer a spear.
A shadow spear manifested beside Lawrence.
“....”
Did it laugh?
A sneer was visible beneath the helm.
The thing raised an empty hand.
From that hand, dark red flames rose.
“......”
For a moment, Lawrence forgot how to speak.
The color of the flames it wielded was far too familiar.
Dark red flames.
They were the same color as the fire magic Lawrence himself controlled.
“Remember this. It is the cherished child who becomes the most terrifying Changeling of all. Those who once received the blessings you now carry will become pursuers and come hunting you down. I pray that you survive that pursuit, Lawrence.”
The gravekeeper’s final warning.
At last, he understood what stood before him.
Changeling.
This thing was the Changeling the gravekeeper had warned him about.
The Changeling swept a hand through the air.
It was nothing like Lawrence’s Fire.
The flame, no bigger than a fist, swelled in an instant.
There was no time to be lost in thought.
Lawrence hurled his Shadow Spear in reply.
Spear met fire.
The Shadow Spear devoured the flames.
But it was too soon to relax.
When the great blaze vanished, the Changeling was no longer there.
Unthinkingly, Lawrence lifted his head.
The thing was up there.
It had leapt from the ground and was now charging down at him together with its spear.
Fire ran with it.
The body that kicked off the empty air had become a red gale.
“W-Water Ball!”
He had no time for another spell.
He needed the fastest one. And the strongest one he could manage.
Lawrence hurled Water Ball in a panic and threw himself to the ground.
The impact came rushing in.
He couldn’t even manage a proper roll to break his fall.
But the pain did not end there.
He heard the wet, awful sound of flesh being pierced.
“......”
He could see the massive foreign object lodged in his stomach.
A black spear filled with flames.
His body shot upward, wholly against Lawrence’s will.
The blood streaming down his side touched the spear’s fire and turned to smoke.
“Cough.”
It hurt.
The pain that began in his abdomen tore through his whole body.
It hurt so badly that tears rose in his eyes despite himself.
Lawrence grabbed the spear.
He would really die if this continued.
If he didn’t pull it out.
If he didn’t pull it out quickly and douse the wound with holy water, he would die.
“......”
The Changeling watched him with indifferent eyes.
No. There was curiosity in that gaze.
It seemed to be wondering what the skewered Lawrence would do next.
That look snapped his mind back into focus.
Now was not the time to push the spear out.
If he couldn’t bring this thing down, none of it would matter.
“Fi, Fire Tail.”
A whip of fire shot toward the Changeling.
To Lawrence’s surprise, the creature caught the seething blaze with its bare hand.
Disappointment flickered in its eyes.
Then, as if losing interest, the Changeling swung the spear wide.
“...!”
Instead of a scream, a mouthful of blood burst from his lips.
His blood felt as though it were boiling.
He couldn’t breathe.
Separate from the excruciating pain, his mind went white.
His consciousness was slipping away.
No.
He searched for the holy water.
There was no time to open it carefully.
He smashed the bottle at once and poured it over his abdomen.
The last one.
He shoved the final dose into his mouth without caring how it went down.
This time, he felt no warmth.
He was only drifting farther away.
In the darkening of his vision, he could still make out the Changeling.
The tip of its spear was aimed at his head.
“Ho... Ho... Holy...”
Forget about raising a hand.
He could barely force out a sound.
Just before the dark red spear pierced Lawrence’s head, a single arrow suddenly flew toward the Changeling.
The Changeling sprang away from his spot and withdrew like a wind caught in reverse.
It settled into a ready stance.
Its head lowered as much as possible.
It turned the spear lightly behind its back and planted one hand on the ground.
Ready to lunge at any moment.
Or to dodge at any moment.
It looked almost like a beast.
But its gaze was not on Lawrence.
It was looking above him.
At someone who had appeared behind Lawrence.
“Yes. So you’ve crossed the bridge of delusion.”
It was a voice he had missed.
The tears that fell this time were not from pain.
“Are you still alive, Lawrence?”
A calm voice.
Long silver hair tied back.
Stepping forward as if to shield Lawrence was the half-man, half-horse.
The last guardian.
Acheron, whom he had met in Dragon Valley, stood there before him.
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