Friend of the Beastkin

"Haa..."

I let out a long breath as I looked down at the troll shaman's head, lying where it had rolled to a stop at my feet. Had I simply overreached in the fight just now? There wasn't a shred of strength left in my body. That wasn't all. The hand gripping my sword trembled faintly, and the aura wrapped around the Screaming Sword flickered, precarious as a dying fluorescent light.

Hardly surprising. Forcing a path through the enhanced trolls to cut down the shaman who led them—without the enhancement elixir, or if my realm had been even a little shallower, that fight would have been impossible even for me. But it had been a choice I could not refuse.

"...It's not as if this bastard only got the better of me once or twice."

I murmured it, low and light.

Troll shamans had turned up often enough inside the Gates—boss-class monsters that had tormented hunters in every miserable way there was. And a shaman's presence was absolute in a melee already reduced to chaos, just as this one had been. Their own combat power might fall short of a higher species or a special specimen, but leave the enhancement magic they scattered unchecked and the damage would swell past anyone's ability to contain.

So the instant this one showed himself on the field, I had been forced to decide. Fall back as things stood, or kill him as quickly as I could. I had simply chosen the latter. Taking my condition into account, I had judged it barely within reach—and it had gone exactly as I'd expected.

Only—

"What are you all just standing there for?"

The moment the troll shaman fell, it was the beastkin who stood gaping at me, blank and dumbstruck. They looked so much like the rookie hunters who used to turn my stomach that the shout tore out of me before I knew it.

Fortunately they snapped to at once and threw themselves back at the trolls, and I used the opening to slip out toward the edge of the village. A potion could have restored me in a single swallow, but I wanted a quieter moment to take stock of my body.

"Young Master! So this is where you were."

Greg, who had fallen behind, came up then.

"Only just getting here?"

"I arrived a while ago. The trolls were blocking the way."

One look at him and I knew it was no empty excuse. He was drenched head to toe in troll blood; the state of him said more than enough.

"Are you all right, Young Master?"

"Yeah. Good timing."

I settled onto a convenient rock and left the watch to Greg, buying myself a little time to turn my focus inward.

"Just leave it to me. I won't let so much as an ant get near you."

Greg drew his sword as he made the boast.

"All right. I'm counting on you."

I looked inward, into a body emptied of even a handful of mana. I had wrung it to the limit, and the paths mana traveled—the mana circuits—were torn ragged. I mended those first with a recovery potion, then replenished the drained mana with a mana potion. Last of all I drew the Screaming Sword and, carefully, set the aura core to turning.

Then—

Shaaaa!

The core poured forth its familiar deep-crimson aura with renewed force. The aura that returned was not what it had been. A dark red haze rose, soft and subdued, and if anything its outward pressure seemed weaker than before.

"Hm...?"

But the concentration held within it had grown far denser.

Was it because my stats had risen when I cut the troll shaman down? I opened my status window. As expected, the stat tied to magic power had climbed further than the rest, reaching ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fifty.

"Not bad."

The aura core itself had not grown by nearly so much, and yet the quality of the mana felt cleaner—purer. Natural enough. The mana stat did not only decide how much mana you held. It decided the quality of it as well.

That was not the only thing I had gained.

It was the quest that had appeared together with the start of the battle, and a reward had been given for seeing it through. A rare skill was the same sort of prize I had received before, for felling the Green Ogre—but this time, what differed was the right to choose.

"Good."

I decided to look it over later and got to my feet at once. I wanted to test the refined mana.

"Already finished resting?"

"Yeah."

I glanced around. Perhaps because I had brought the shaman down—trolls still seethed deeper in the village, but the outskirts were comparatively clear.

Tat!

I broke into a run at a troll pacing nearby and, with footwork a little lighter than before, extended my sword.

Chwak!

A crisp shearing sound, and the creature's upper body split apart with ease. Thick hide and bone alike parted like cheese.

"No way... Young Master, have you gotten stronger again?"

Greg asked, watching the stroke. Even from beside me, something had plainly changed. I was about to answer when—

"Hm...?"

A small sound, almost a cry, drifted from nearby. A faint moan, fundamentally unlike a demon's shriek.

"Greg. You don't hear that?"

"A sound? I don't really..."

Greg tilted his head as if nothing had reached him at all. A small noise, heard once and gone. But I could not simply let it pass. In a mess like this, that was precisely the sort of sound that had a way of finding me—and its source was closer than I had expected.

"Here?"

A hut half collapsed, as if the fighting had swept over it.

"Greg, stand back."

Acting on the feeling, I carefully dug through the wreckage.

"Ah—!"

Sure enough, an animal ear pinned beneath a wooden post came into view. A small beastkin child, squirrel-like, lay there.

"Greg, take that side."

"Yes!"

Together we heaved the fallen post aside and drew the pinned child out. Thankfully, they were still breathing.

"Hey. You all right?"

I checked whether the child was conscious, half afraid they might not wake. But their eyes opened soon enough.

"Ah... a... human...!"

The child startled like a frightened squirrel. Open your eyes to find neither troll nor beastkin, but a human, and of course you would wonder what you were looking at.

"......"

Tears welled in the child's eyes in an instant. Leave them be and they would be sobbing any second. While I hesitated over what to say—

"Please leave this to me."

Greg stepped forward. He did not seem to do anything particularly clever, and yet he settled the child with a familiarity that was plainly practiced.

"You know how to look after kids?"

So I asked, and Greg nodded with spirit.

"Of course. I may not look it, but I've got five younger siblings."

I let out a short, empty laugh. The truth was, dealing with children was still awkward for me. Back when I was an S-class hunter, I had hardly ever had cause to come across one. To feel, in a place like this, the difference between a modern world short on children and the medieval age...

"I... I was at home..."

Once calmed, the child spilled out this and that from before they had lost consciousness. From the sound of it, this was not their house. Their own home had caught fire, so they had had no choice but to take shelter here.

"Oh, Sister Sar."

A familiar name jumped from the child's mouth.

"Sar?"

I asked on reflex. The child said Sar had brought them this far while the trolls were giving chase, then lured the creatures off and run into the forest.

"Ran? Where?"

The child pointed to one side. A path leading out of the village, not in. I certainly had not been able to find Sar deeper inside. Then... had Sar gone out, and was she still being chased?

"Greg, look after the kid."

I left the child with him and stood at once.

"Don't worry. I'll protect this child with my life."

Greg struck his own chest as he said it. I nodded and kicked off the ground.

"......"

I left the village behind and ran into the jungle. Had the trolls truly passed this way? Brush and trees shoved aside by those huge bodies showed me the path I needed to follow. Tracking the marks they had left so clearly—

"Eeeek..."

I found Sar almost at once. How she had climbed that high, I could not begin to say. She hung from a single branch of a great tree that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠speared the sky, and beneath her five trolls stared up without end. A dog that had chased a chicken and come up with nothing—was this the look of it? But trolls were far more persistent than any dog.

Kwang!

They struck the great tree with the axes in their hands. Fortunately the trunk was as thick as the tree was tall, and it did not fall easily under their chopping. Even so—

"Eek!"

Each blow set Sar swaying where she clung at the crown like a piece of fruit.

"Hah..."

A breath of relief left me at the sight of her still unharmed. She must have fled this far in desperation and ended up stranded in the tree. But this was no time to relax. It was only a mercy that the tree was so immense; had it been anything less, the trolls would have snapped it in a single stroke. Even so, it was only a matter of time before the great tree came down.

"Hey, you bastards!"

I charged the pack ringing the tree. The moment I shouted, they turned their attack. Five slabs of stone-hard flesh came crashing in on me.

But—

Shhk!

They had no means of enduring a stroke of the Screaming Sword, the same edge that had already cleaved enhanced trolls. In an instant the five were headless corpses rolling across the ground.

"Lu... Lucas?"

Sar's eyes went round when she saw me. I felt no further trace of trolls nearby, so I walked to the foot of the great tree where she hung.

"Is this all of them?"

"W-what?"

"I asked whether these are all the trolls."

The question was meant for a beastkin's senses, dozens of times keener than a human's. Sar nodded again and again.

"Then you can come down."

"Th-that's... it's too high..."

It did look high. She had climbed nearly to the very crown of a tree tens of meters tall.

"Why go up that high in the first place?"

"The trolls were throwing rocks and everything!"

"...Not a rabbit, then. A monkey."

"What?"

"Enough. Just jump. I'll catch you."

I said it as I sheathed the sword. Sar was silent for a moment, turning it over.

"...O-okay."

She had no other choice in any case. In the end she clenched her teeth and let go of the branch.

"Ah!"

A short cry, and she dropped straight into my arms. Beastkin or not, aside from the ears and the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tail she was built the same as any human, so catching her was no great difficulty.

"You all right?"

"Ah... y-yes!"

Sar scrambled down out of my arms in a fluster. At a glance, there was no serious injury on her.

"Then let's head back."

The fighting would still be going on in the village. I had no wish to linger here and give anyone cause, however ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slight, to say I had fled the battle. At my words Sar gave only a small nod, and we moved back toward the field where the fight was still underway.

Some time later, I took a formal seat with the chief of the beastkin village. Having saved the village from the trolls' assault, I had at last earned the right to speak with them, and I was there to deliver House Roenheim's proposal in earnest.

"An alliance..."

At my words the chief and the beastkin elders let out a low murmur. I did not say, as the ducal house's earlier offer had, that we would protect them. Instead I asked for a temporary alliance—that we stand as equals and fight together against the demons soon to come. In a sense it forced the fight with the demons onto the beastkin as well. But the beastkin I knew were not the sort to refuse a battle fought to defend their own land.

"It is not a bad proposal for us, either."

The chief began that way.

"But I will speak frankly. We have always doubted the intentions of humans who try to involve themselves with us."

"Even in a situation like this?"

I asked it back. The beastkin would know better than I how chaotic the Great Forest had become. And this time they had suffered the assault themselves. When I pressed whether they still would not bend, the chief only smiled, slow and steady.

"At times, a human is more dangerous than a demon. That is why we never believed the ducal house would help us for no reason at all."

I listened in silence. I already knew their distrust of humankind. And there the chief's tone changed.

"But you have proven that trust to us. Every one of us saw the valor, and the sacrifice, you showed upon the field."

"You mean..."

At last the chief gave his answer. The other beastkin looked ready to stand with the decision.

And at the same time, messages rose.

I let out a breath inwardly. I had been tense, afraid the talks might fall apart at the last. Fortunately, the first step toward changing the outcome of the war seemed to have been taken cleanly.

"Return ahead of us, however. Both sides will need time."

The chief added that I should go back to the fortress first. House Roenheim would need preparations of its own before it could receive the beastkin; that was only natural. In exchange, wishing me a safe return, he assigned me a guide.

That person was—

"...It's good to see you."

Ser. The leopard beastkin I had first met in this village.