Racing to Harharin
It had been a long time since he'd left Bator for real—heading to Harharin. Zerik set off at full speed, in high spirits to make the most of the mood, but soon began rationing his stamina with the distance in mind.
Then, at some point.
Whoosh!
Spotting the silver wind—no, the wolf—flash past him, he couldn't help but light up with excitement.
'Ho?'
Whether as a Mana User or a spirit shaman, the total mana was clearly no higher than 4th stage. Yet this human's spirit had caught up to his pace.
'The power of that Transcendent Weapon?'
Recalling the sunset-hued mana shimmering like a haze from the shoulder armor as it overtook him, he soon shook his head.
A Transcendent Weapon was no different from a spirit treasure. Wielding it required the master's own caliber, after its choosing.
'Impressive as expected. But...'
Zerik flashed a faint smile and drew up his mana, pouring strength into his legs.
"Gotta teach this young junior how vast the world is, at least for his sake."
An orc's battle lust flared even in simple rivalry. In that instant, he forgot all about stamina rationing and accelerated to full throttle once more.
Boom!
The moment his massive, hefty foot—enormous even among orcs—slammed the ground and detonated mana, his hulking frame surged forward, rapidly closing the gap with the silver wolf.
—Kaboom.
'As expected.'
Sensing the terrifying approach amid the explosive roar, Tiny smirked.
As he'd told Bold and Narn, dragging things out against Zerik was next to impossible. This opponent, beyond his power to match by force, was bullheadedly stubborn to boot. Force a delay, and he'd grow suspicious or just charge ahead alone.
So there was only one viable option.
Go all out, racing flat-out for Harharin.
Anyone hearing that might call it nonsense.
'But it's plenty doable.'
"I'll take the lead!!"
Kraka-kraka-kraka.
Seeing Zerik kick up a dust storm far ahead, Tiny smiled again and ramped up his speed.
Not content with scraping every last drop of his own mana, he even pulled in surrounding mana beyond his limits.
Hummm.
All that power funneled into boosting Wolrang's velocity.
The kind of stunt that would trigger overrebound and drop a normal Mana User on the spot.
"Woof!"
Even Wolrang sent a negative signal, strain evident.
"Hang in there just a bit longer!"
Whoosh!
They became the silver wind once more, catching up to Zerik again.
And that reckless contest only ended as the sun dipped toward the west.
Huuuuuh.
White steam billowed from Zerik's body as he drew a long breath.
His inner heat vaporizing sweat outright. A bizarre sight that made the chill of late autumn, edging into winter, feel out of place.
Tiny chuckled softly at the scene.
"Looks like I win the race."
His Nian Ti—his mana body duplicate—was screaming from repeated mana depletion, but he kept a perfectly composed face.
Zerik glared at him, then rasped out words with effort.
"What... nonsense. Rematch next time."
This monster had covered a distance that would take a horse a week, on foot in half a day. His willpower was monstrous.
No overrebound even now—truly awe-inspiring physical prowess and mana endurance.
That said, separately from that.
"Great Warrior, sir, you look pretty worn out. Even for a rematch, you'd want a few days' full recovery first, right?"
As Tiny noted, the excessive sprint had taxed even this superhuman frame.
His build had visibly shrunk compared to dawn departure.
He'd burned not just mana, but every nutrient in his body.
"Damn it. What a humiliating... loss."
Zerik snorted hot breaths, face twisted in genuine frustration.
'Over something like this...'
A perfect display of his excessive battle lust.
He'd likely never lost to anyone since becoming a superhuman, so this defeat stung extra.
'Good for Zerik.'
Different fields, but the context echoed his past life rivalry.
Back then, they'd met before either broke through to Aura Exceeder.
—You, big human. Got some orc blood in you or what?
Zerik—towering over most orcs—had blurted that first line out of pure curiosity upon meeting the even bigger human.
But Tiny back then, unaware of Zerik's brutally honest nature, took it as an insult.
—Filthy orc bastard, you gone mad...?
—...What'd you just say, human?
Their "greeting" was probably that cross-counter.
From there, endless brawls forged a friendship(?), punch by punch.
When they reunited at world's end, Zerik had grinned at him.
—Meeting you taught me to rein in this battle lust—finally hit Aura Exceeder. Wish we'd met sooner.
—What?
—No orc could hand me a loss. Ah, not saying I'm weaker, obviously. I won more, right?
—...Wanna go again, you stinking orc?
—Kekeke. Sure, you overgrown human brat.
If that was true then, this stimulus would help him now too.
"Next... time, for sure... I'll..."
Huff. Huff.
His eyes seemed to have forgotten their journey's purpose, which worried Tiny a bit.
'But this works out perfect.'
This was why he'd bet on delaying the schedule.
At that pace, Harharin in days—but impossible for any superhuman sans mount.
'Well, I'd manage as an Aura User.'
Still a distant dream for now.
"Rest up. I'll hunt."
"Nah, not that beat. Let's go together."
That day, two forest boars unluckily crossed two predators—and left no scrap behind.
Squeeeeal.
"Tiny, right? The way you eat's inhuman. Orc or dwarf blood mixed in?"
Zerik picked a rib from the meatless boar carcass, using the tip to floss.
Tiny couldn't hold back a chuckle at the head-tilted question.
True, devouring more than his own bulk looked grotesque to anyone.
"Telling a human that is basically picking a fight. Society frowns on mixed bloodlines."
"Huh? So what?"
Zerik's genuine bafflement drew a wry smile from Tiny.
"...Humans are like that. Irrational, huh."
"Hm. Heard humans are hard to get. If you're strong, who cares about mixed blood?"
"Even humans don't get that 'strength rules' mindset. Though if you frame it as the person matters, I'd agree."
"Complicated stuff."
"Yeah, it..."
"Skip it. Headache."
Zerik flopped onto the dirt.
Thud.
"Stars... pretty."
That incongruous musing from his fierce face, then he shut his eyes and snored thunderously.
Tiny stifled another laugh.
'Yeah, that's you.'
Armor no hindrance—he looked utterly comfy.
But look close: the ground dipped exactly to fit his backplate bulk, head cradled in a firm earthen pillow.
Precise, flawless mana control.
Seeming sloppy and carefree, but Zerik's mana talent and near-biological weapon body ranked top-tier worldwide.
Misjudged for blunt recklessness, he actually treasured comrades more than most—upholding loyalty at life-risk.
An irreplaceable asset... no, 'friend'.
—I'll clear the path. Five overrebounds or so. Everyone conserve strength.
—Zerik!?!
—Don't look at me like that—I'm surviving too. Ah, not yielding 'cause you're stronger, Tiny. My traits suit crowds, that's all. You know?
—You mad bastard! Why you!?
—Who else? Estina and Hainen already did their part and died. Turn back now? Or smash the elite beast swarms then flop to the Beast King? Time's short! Second descent...
Recalling his friend's final back from that relaxed sprawl choked him up.
"This time... I absolutely won't let you die so pointlessly, Zerik."
And the other comrades too—he'd protect them all.
'Embarrassing.'
No one watching, but fearing reddened eyes spotted, Tiny sighed skyward.
As Zerik said, stars shone unusually bright.
Thus sentimental, he missed the orc warrior's snores briefly halting.
Next day.
"Realized we skipped proper intros."
Tiny blinked at Zerik's abrupt words.
"Thought we..."
"Didn't say my name."
"Who doesn't know Warlord Zerik?"
Absurd to Tiny, but Zerik grinned fangs bared.
"Name's Zerik. Means 'courage' in our tongue. Was Husel as a kid—hated it, changed at adulthood rite."
Couldn't grasp the mood shift, but one word nagged more.
"...Husel?"
Unheard before, yet familiar.
'That beastkin!?'
Recalling last year's intense memory, Tiny scowled.
"What's that look?"
"N-no. Bad association with 'Husel'... Good change, yeah. Real good. Haha."
"Hm? Not a bad name, just sounds weak."
"Pardon?"
"Means 'hope' in our language. Parents wish it on healthy kids often. Lots change later—common name too."
Zerik eyed Tiny's face, then tossed out:
"No orc enemies among us, right?"
"...Ah, no. None."
Bittersweet feelings surged; Tiny mustered an awkward smile.
Did that whale beastkin—abandoned by parents and world, aiding demon worshippers—know his name's meaning?
Or know yet still harbor grudge?
Died by his hand, yet it felt tangled, unsettled.
'Lycan... Heard it had issues, but damn...'
Not his concern anyway, nor the time to poke one tribe's culture.
"Let's go. Ah, still, take a few days slow for recovery."
Tiny shook off the unease, suggesting to Zerik.
"Not just me overdoing it? Don't underestimate superhuman senses, Tiny."
Sharp gaze pierced him.
But.
"Ah... Haha, recover fast since I'm young."
"...Bastard."
Tiny's quip earned a tongue-click pass.
From then, oddly warmer Zerik matched the deliberate slow pace without gripe.
Even surprised Tiny, but delays had limits.
Post-recovery, more races ensued.
Ten days from Bator.
Finally, they beheld the massive city—Harharin, stronghold of the Black Rhino tribe—before them.