Puppet Beast (4)
Ash and embers drifted down like snow.
Leaving behind a hellscape thick with the clash of steel on steel and the stench of blood and smoke, the dark mage fled.
The werewolf was still rampaging, and the baron and his men would take heavy losses — but the dark mage had already sensed his own defeat. He abandoned the werewolf and the rest of his subordinates without a second thought, taking only the ten highest-ranking beastmen with him.
All of them rode the feral hound beasts he had trained himself. The creatures ran faster than any ordinary horse, tearing down the narrow forest paths without the slightest hesitation.
"Boss! Something's coming up behind us!"
"What? Shit! Ride faster!"
Already? He had been certain the werewolf and the remaining beastmen would buy him more than enough time. No one should have had the strength left to push through those flames.
But just as his subordinate claimed, the sound of another group rose from behind them. Something felt wrong. The noise of countless feet hammering the earth reached him, and for a moment he thought riders on horseback were giving chase — yet the hoofbeats were far too dull, the intervals unnaturally short. It sounded more like enormous hands pounding the ground.
"Hyaaaaah!"
"What the fuck is that?!"
"Boss! A magic beast! It's a magic beast!"
"The hell it is!"
"If that's not a magic beast, then what is it?!"
A magic beast?
The dark mage twisted around to look — and his jaw nearly hit the ground.
"That fucking thing again!"
A black mass studded with dozens of eyes. It closely resembled the sorcerous creature that had taken his arm. The differences were that this one was far larger; instead of fangs, it had the blunt, square teeth of a herbivore; and instead of tentacles, it ran on legs ending in feet shaped like human hands.
From the sound of the footsteps he had assumed more than one was chasing them. But only a single abomination was visible. At that size, he thought they might still be able to win.
"Don't panic! We can handle this thing! Keep riding!"
"That's our boss!"
"We trust you!"
The creature's charge was far faster than expected. In an instant it drew level with the dark mage's group.
When the dark mage saw it from the side, he was forced to reel in shock once more.
The abomination had a body as long as a serpent's. So long, in fact, that even as it steadily overtook them, he still could not make out where it ended. Its segmented form was like a centipede's. On every segment grew a leg ending in a hand-like foot, and set into every segment was a great bloodshot eye.
The black centipede bent its elongated body and cut across their path. The dark mage's group had no choice but to rein in their feral hounds. The centipede brought its tail forward to meet its head, coiling its body into a ring that enclosed them completely.
Only then did he notice that the tip of the tail looked identical to the head — a maw packed with dozens of eyes and teeth. Utterly revolting.
"B-Boss… what do we do? Do we fight?"
"Stay bunched up for now. Makes it easier to defend."
The eyes studding every segment of the black centipede fixed on them as one. Every beastman was paralyzed with terror — partly because the creature was so grotesque, but more because the mere act of looking at it seemed to inject fear directly into their minds. It felt, once again, uncomfortably similar to the Curse of Illusion.
"Hello there."
Every gaze snapped toward the voice. A boy stood atop one of the black centipede's middle segments. Black hair, golden eyes. A thin frame, the skin around his eyes stained dark — he looked anything but healthy.
The dark mage had already guessed that the boy was controlling the black centipede. But he was so young. He must have been born with extraordinary talent.
"Looks like rain. Cloudy weather, isn't it?"
The sky was indeed blanketed in gray clouds. Rain could have started pouring at any moment without seeming strange. No one, however, offered any agreement.
"I see you reattached the arm nicely."
The boy was making it clear that he was the one who had severed the dark mage's arm — an attempt, it seemed, to rattle him. The dark mage refused to take the bait and gave no answer.
"…How awkward. When a noble greets you, the least you could do is respond."
"…Hello?"
One of the beastmen returned the greeting in a daze. The dark mage and the other beastmen scowled and glared at him. The boy looked satisfied.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Karl Manfred."
"What? Manfred?"
"Yes. Second son of Baron Manfred."
So the dark mage on the baron's side was none other than the baron's own second son. That at least explained why a dark mage would be serving the baron — but believing that a noble's son was a dark mage was another matter entirely.
"When a noble introduces himself first, would you at least do me the courtesy of giving your name?"
"…What the hell have you been playing at this whole time?"
At last the dark mage snapped.
"I've been attempting a conversation. It's not going very well."
Is this kid an idiot? The dark mage twisted his face and glared at the boy.
"Fine. Let's get to the point. You're abandoning the werewolf, correct?"
"…I guess so?"
"You fucking— Hey. Open your mouth one more time and you're dead."
The beastman who had returned the greeting answered blankly again, and the dark mage barked a warning at him.
"Then that leaves you with something you no longer need. Doesn't it?"
The dark mage understood at once. The catalyst for the Curse of the Puppet bound to the werewolf.
"Give it to me. Do that, and I'll let you go."
"Are you insane? Fuck off."
"…I honestly didn't expect to be refused."
"This is my work! You think I'd let some other dark mage chew it up, tear it apart, and sample the whole damn thing?"
Perhaps in this world's future, dark mages from every region would unite their strength into a single legion. But this was still an age when they remained scattered and separate. Even the curses that would one day see widespread use were, for now, mostly the independent creations of individual dark mages. To a mage, a formula was nothing less than art. You did not simply toss away a work perfected over long years of effort for someone else to use.
"Is it more precious than your life?"
"My life? Shit. Some brat thinks a little talent means he's got nothing to fear. How exactly do you plan on beating us by yourself?"
"In games, there are things called choices. Ah — you probably don't know what that means."
This kid really is an idiot. While the boy rambled nonsense, the dark mage raised his arm and drew up his mana. The beastmen followed suit, drawing their weapons and leveling them at the boy.
"Anyway, among those choices, there are some you can tell will end badly — no, will get you completely screwed — without even needing to pick them."
The dark mage cast a skyborne spell. Black lightning, amplified by dark magic. With a roar that split the air, the bolt came crashing down. It was the same magic that had once shattered the monstrous creature this boy commanded.
"You just picked one of those."
Grrrrrrrk!
The lightning never reached the boy. The black centipede let out a grotesque cry and coiled at tremendous speed, wrapping itself around him. Its head was blown clean off — but the boy was unharmed. The head was already slowly regenerating.
"Wh-what…"
"The boss's magic didn't work!"
"Last time I threw it together in a hurry. This time I put real effort into it. Stayed up all night making it."
Water suddenly splattered across the dark mage's body. Startled, he hastily wiped it away. What clung to his hand was not water. It was blood — warm enough to make his skin crawl.
The dark mage turned to look beside him. One of the beastmen sat frozen in a look of pure horror. So did the feral hound he had been riding.
"B-Boss…"
Their bodies were caught between countless fangs, shredded to ribbons. The owner of those fangs watched the dark mage with dozens of eyes.
It was the black centipede's shadow. A monstrous creature he had concealed beneath it with dark magic had just burst forth.
"I didn't make just the one centipede, either."
The dark mage could not move a muscle. The black centipede had reared the front of its long body upward and twisted it around, casting its shadow over their entire group. At any moment, teeth could surge up from below.
Sensing death closing in, the dark mage scrambled down from his feral hound and dropped to his knees, trembling. The other beastmen did the same.
"W-wait. I— I made a mistake. I'm sorry. Here — the catalyst for the curse on the werewolf. I'll hand it over."
The dark mage pulled a massive fang from his coat and held it out. The boy spoke with clear dissatisfaction.
"Is that all?"
"Wh-what do you mean?"
The only curse the dark mage had placed on the werewolf was the Curse of the Puppet. Why would he have needed to lay any others?
But when the boy's expression darkened, the dark mage had no choice but to think hard if he wanted to survive. Then his eyes fell on the feral hounds they had been riding.
"Ah — d-do you want the catalysts for the magic beasts too?"
"Besides the curse controlling the werewolf, there should be a curse that turns her into a wolf."
"Ahh! R-right… there seems to be a misunderstanding."
The dark mage realized the boy had made a mistake.
"Th-the Curse of the Lycanthrope — I didn't place that one. It's innate."
The boy had assumed the dark mage had inflicted the Curse of the Lycanthrope. But the werewolf had been born with the curse, which meant no separate catalyst existed.
"…Huh. That was the more important one. I needed the Curse of the Lycanthrope."
"I-is that so. W-well, werewolves are more common than you'd think. You'll find another. We could even help you look!"
"Well… I suppose so."
As the boy's expression eased a fraction, the dark mage allowed himself a thin thread of relief.
"Then we can just—"
"Even so. Once you pick a choice, that's it."
A swarm of teeth filled his vision — and the dark mage's consciousness never returned.
Grrrrrrrk!
The black centipede, its head fully regenerated, began to move. Its long body writhed as if in agony, slamming madly against the ground. The earth shook as though struck by an earthquake.
"Aaaaaagh!"
"Somebody help me!"
"I'm sorry! Please!"
In an instant the ground was flattened smooth, and the beastmen and their hounds were reduced to lumps of meat. Only a single beastman survived.
"Don't worry too much."
"Uh… uhhh…"
As the boy approached, the beastman scrambled backward on the ground.
"You chose well. I'll spare your life."
He was the only beastman who had returned the boy's greeting.