Light (3)
A vast river—the Demt—cut straight through the heart of Lostwood. Where its current split into two branches and rejoined again, a small midstream island had formed, and on that island the Robel subjugation force was trapped.
“Goddamn it! We are not going home until that black cat bastard is dead! Is that clear?!”
Eldin Robel had marched out to make up for the subjugation force’s earlier failures—and had promptly sunk into the mire once more.
“Commander. Even now, we should link up with the Principality’s army and get out of here. With Sir Gast’s unit already hit, we can’t hold like this. We need to confirm Sir Gast’s survival at the very least—”
“Sir Sernia. If we leave like this, we are nothing but a routed remnant.”
“But—!”
“Enough! Are you defying your commander’s orders?”
Faced with Eldin’s obstinacy, Sernia took a step back.
“First we get off this island and rejoin the Guardian Knights.”
Eldin waited for sunrise, then led the force across the river.
From days of watching the enemy, they knew the Black Cats barely moved in the early morning. Their activity only spiked once night fell. And after hunting the subjugation force without rest for days on end, even those monsters had to be exhausted.
To draw off whatever was watching the island, he sent one unit to the far bank as a diversion, then brought the main force out the other way.
If we’re going to take the Black Cats, this is the moment.
They were tired. Eldin was sure of it.
Splash… splash…
The river ran deep enough that by midstream the water climbed past the soldiers’ throats. Their advance slowed to a crawl. At the vanguard, Sernia and the knights kept their eyes sweeping, every sense strained for an ambush.
It was a perfect place to strike.
Sssseeee—!
Thuck!
A bone ground to a razor point punched clean through the skull of the soldier carrying the banner.
“Black Cats! Shields up—all of you!”
Sernia’s shout rang out as she tore her sword free. The only sixth-circle knight in the Robel subjugation force, she batted aside the flying bone arrows and charged.
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!!
Monkey-beasts burst from the trees and rained stones on the ranks. Crocs plunged into the water and tore into the column.
“Watch below! Crocs in the water!”
“Damn it! Vanguard—shields!”
“We can’t fight properly like this!”
“Run! Get to solid ground—move!!”
Eldin’s frantic yell spread through the ranks like fire. Formation collapsed. Screams erupted on every side.
“Aaaagh!”
“Here! It’s got my leg—help me!”
“Stab the croc’s eyes! If you can’t, wait till it opens its jaws and drive your sword in!”
“Shield-bearers, keep those shields up till the end! If the front line breaks, we’re finished!”
Chaos. Shouts crashed over one another—yet through it all the knights kept their heads, cutting down beasts, restoring order, and hauling the force toward the bank. River water turned red. Monster corpses bobbed on the surface.
Then, as suddenly as a tide going out, the beasts that had swarmed them were gone—as if their work were done.
“Damn it. Are even the monsters drawing up tactics now?”
Eldin kicked a loose stone and ground his teeth.
“Sir Sernia hasn’t returned, Commander.”
“…Sir Sernia?”
“Yes, sir. She went after that sniper we saw earlier and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Sniper?”
“The men started calling it that—because the Black Cats snipe with bone.”
“Giving a fancy name to a damn animal. Tch. We rest under guard for now. Sir Sernia will find her own way back.”
Eldin set the worry aside and turned to putting the force in order. For a commander, it was not an unreasonable call. If it was Sernia, she would get herself out. Rushing off in their present state only invited another mauling.
The troops began to regroup—sentries posted, wounded tended. From their belts they drew Robon 001 units, scooped river water, and filled their canteens.
“Without these, we’d be in real trouble.”
“Commander Eldin really saved us. Who’d have thought he’d haul so many of these out of Bladewyn.”
“I never figured Robon Bladewyn for the clever type, either. How does a wastrel invent something like this?”
“Watch your mouth, Van. You haven’t heard the rumor? That Robon Bladewyn was only playing the fool on purpose? They say he’s already sorted every friend from every enemy.”
“What? At his age? Hah… so he really is a genius.”
“Who cares about that? What matters is we’re still breathing because of these things.”
Talk of Robon Bladewyn kept surfacing whenever the men had a spare breath. Eldin had bought the Robon 001s himself—and he hated every word of it. This was his operation. Why was a Bladewyn who wasn’t even on the force forever on their tongues?
All of it because of that black cat bastard.
Grind—
Played by a pack of beasts… Next time, I’ll kill you for certain.
Through dense forest, past trees packed shoulder to shoulder, Sernia drove toward the outer marshland of Lostwood.
Where are you!
She had seen it clearly. The Black Cat’s movements were not what they had been. She had struck aside the flying bone shafts and run it down—and its reactions were half a beat slower than before. The same for its flight. The gap closed, bit by bit. Without this tangled forest terrain, she could have caught it in a single burst.
It’s tired. Days of fighting have worn it down.
Perhaps Eldin’s judgment had been right after all. This was the perfect chance to kill it.
Sssseeee!!
Thwack-thwack!!
Three bone arrows—head, shoulder, flank—grazed her armor and buried themselves in the earth. Watching them, Sernia’s resolve only hardened. All three had sought the gaps in her plate with surgical precision. That accuracy and speed… even in this state.
The distance from the force keeps growing. I have to choose here.
Keep after the Black Cat—or break off and go back.
The doubt lasted a heartbeat. Sernia kept the chase.
This way runs toward the edge of Lostwood. Draw it out there and I still have a real shot.
To her left the vast Valces Mountain Range heaved up and blotted out the sky. Thanks to that wall of stone, even in this labyrinth of trees she would not lose her bearings.
Gulp. Gulp.
She drank water purified earlier with a Robon 001, and the thirst eased. The convenience that one small cylinder had brought the force was beyond measure. By now, going without it felt almost unsafe.
Robel needs these too, and soon—
Thang!
A bone arrow from dead ahead. She batted it aside, a sneer touching her lips.
Last thrash of a dying animal.
The distance had all but vanished in an instant. The beast was at its limit. Once she was this close, taking it down would not be hard.
I’ll kill y—
Sssseeeee—!
Thuck!!
A bone arrow from behind drove straight into the joint of her shoulder.
“Kh—…!”
How? It had been in front of her—why from behind?
In that same breath her senses caught the press of dozens of monsters closing in. Then more bone arrows, front and rear at once.
Thwack!
She barely slipped them—and froze. Old memories flashed through her mind: the way the force’s flanks had been picked open, again and again; the reason they had been waiting on the island even after the morning diversion to the far bank.
…There was never just one Black Cat.
Sernia clenched her teeth. Sensing her wound, the beasts showed themselves and came on in ones and twos—like predators finishing a kill that was already dying.
“Come, then! I’ll kill every last one of you!”
She snapped the bone in her shoulder and began to butcher them.
Slash! Rip! Thrust!
Surrounded by dozens, she fought like a war god. Blood-painted, her blade had already claimed more than half. Every sweep of the sword painted a red arc through the air and sent pieces of monster spinning free. Her ferocity made the rest flinch; they no longer rushed her lightly.
If only that ambush hadn’t taken the shoulder…
Of course it had to be the right one. She forced the pain down with aura and kept swinging, but she was past her limit.
My mistake. My pride brought this…
Sensing her exhaustion, the beasts edged closer. The Black Cats hidden in grass and timber watched for any opening. Far off, one of them stepped into view and calmly licked its paw—as if mocking her.
“You. I am taking you with me before I die.”
She hauled up the last of her aura.
Then—
VROOOOOOOM!!
A roaring exhaust note that announced itself like a challenge. Far up the ridge road, the Black Terrahole R1 came hurtling at full speed.
It crested the hill without slowing and took flight.
VROOOOOOM—!
Sernia lifted her head. From the passenger seat, Gast Robel leaned out—and their eyes met.
“Sir… Gast…?”
“Shut your eyes and get down!!”
Even as he shouted, Gast flung a round object her way. She had no idea what was happening—but she obeyed, squeezed her eyes shut, and drove her face into the dirt.
BANG!
Beeeeeeee—
Her ears went dead. Light detonated behind her lids.
What is this?
Thud!! Rumble! Clatter!
BANG—!
Dull impacts and the whistle of projectiles reached her only faintly. She jerked her head up—and saw beasts reeling and shrieking, and a Black Cat dropping with an arrow through its skull.
And then—
“Are you all right?”
Gast’s voice cut through the ringing. He approached with a strangely shaped bow in his hands.
“Sir Gast… was that you?”
He shook his head.
“Half right. Half wrong.”
“I’ve got more problems than I can count.”
Magitech existed in this world—but it was far less advanced than he had hoped. The original Black Terrahole had made him wonder for a moment. Of course not.
One thing at a time.
First, he had built a power source better than expected. It would still need constant tuning, but a finished grid required all three legs: generation, transmission, distribution. The generator was done. Next came transmission towers and a distribution network.
In truth, that could wait. His larger design was to put electricity through the entire territory, drive work efficiency to the absolute limit, and raise Bladewyn as a whole. Only then would resource intake and research conditions finally be what they should be.
But that was for later.
Start with Bladewyn Castle.
Finish the light bulb first. The crude lamps in use now were hopelessly inefficient. Runtime needed to hit half a day at minimum, didn’t it? With present tech he could not make a true internal vacuum. Partial vacuum would have to do—and for that, a piston vacuum pump would work. Building one demanded high-precision machining… and this territory had exactly that kind of craftsman.
In that sense, waking up as a Bladewyn had been pure luck. Without their metalwork, the waterwheel, the compound crossbows, even this partial-vacuum setup would never have left the bench.
“Uncle Amor, how’s the piece I asked for?”
Amor wiped the sweat from his brow and handed over a round cylinder.
“Because of you I don’t have time to make anything else!”
“Sorry. But nobody else here can make this stuff.”
“How do you even come up with these things?”
“Mm… I just thought, if we did it like this, it should work?”
“You lunatic.”
For all the grumbling, Amor’s face looked thoroughly pleased.
“Still. Thanks to you, hammering’s fun again.”
From what Robon gathered, even a master smith like Amor had been stuck in a long slump—no weapon that satisfied him, his skill feeling stalled in place.
“And the lord said I’m to put your requests first.”
“…Father did?”
“He did.”
That was unexpected. Amor was vital to Bladewyn. For knights, arms and armor were a second self—no exaggeration. Yet right now Amor barely made gear at all, because of Robon.
“That Black Terrahole R1 you rebuilt must have really taken his fancy.”
“Hahaha! Fair enough.”
Every morning his father rode the Black Terrahole R1 around the territory. Whenever he came back to the manor, a look of pure satisfaction sat on his face. He clearly loved it.
“Take care of that thing. If it ever breaks, there’s no telling what the lord will turn into.”
“What could possibly break i—”
A cold dread ran straight down his spine.
Surely Burgess wouldn’t wreck it? He had told him to take it out without even asking Father first.
Nah. No way.