Salat's Relentless Pursuit
Salat turned her gaze, scanning the surroundings of the forest, but the man wearing the crow mask was nowhere to be seen.
"He's gone?!"
Where did he go? Did she lose him?! She fidgeted in bewilderment and anxiety.
Watching her, Ifrit let out a long sigh.
—Don't worry. I know the direction he went.
At Ifrit's words, Salat breathed a sigh of relief. Even so, curiosity gripped her.
"Him? Why do you call him 'him' like that?"
Ifrit was the one flustered by Salat's question. He muttered to himself, pondering 'Why is that?'
—...I don't know. But instinctively, I fear him.
"...Who fears whom?"
—...I fear him.
"......"
It was incomprehensible. She'd heard that spirits didn't even fear the dragons from legends. For such a spirit to fear a mere human?
"...Are you scared of a human?"
At her reaction, Ifrit opened his mouth as if to make an excuse.
—Don't misunderstand. He's no mere human.
"...So he really isn't human?"
She had vaguely sensed it herself.
—Yes, something alien. But I don't know what exactly. It's just a feeling. You saw it too, didn't you? His... true form.
"......"
Salat nodded, recalling the incident in the underground secret passage not long ago. Back then, he was no human—he was a devil. A being who had obliterated those horrific Wights in an instant with overwhelming power.
'...He really wasn't ordinary.'
"......"
Under Salat's blatant stare, Ifrit felt burdened and changed the subject.
—Are you going to keep chasing him? If so, I'll tell you the direction. It's not too late if you go now.
"...Thanks."
—Don't misunderstand. If you die, I'm in trouble. I'm just upholding my contract with your father, Kalib.
Ifrit spoke coldly, but Salat knew he didn't mean it. He always looked out for her, like a second father.
Loki sat quietly with his eyes closed. The sun had set, and the night sky, now free of dark clouds, shone beautifully with three moons glowing brightly as if nothing had happened. The low hum of insects, the scent of rain-soaked grass, and the serene atmosphere pleased Loki immensely.
He opened his eyes and gazed at the trees. Towering green giants stretched toward the sky. Though the humidity from the rain had shrouded everything in mist, the moonlight reflecting off the darkness created a mystical, beautiful scene.
Loki felt a strange sensation viewing this dreamlike vista, impossible in his original world. The frozen north was endlessly white, but the continent burst with vibrant colors. Even the Celt Mountains were entirely red from their trees, and this forest's trunks glowed green.
Crack—!
At the sound of a branch snapping, Loki, perched on a moss-covered rock, turned his head slightly. A girl who had accidentally stepped on it met his eyes and darted behind a tree in surprise.
"...How long are you going to follow me?"
"......"
No response. He couldn't even count how many times this had happened. He'd called out to her several times, but she kept ignoring him. Yet she neither left nor stopped trailing him.
He couldn't fathom the girl's purpose or why she was so fixated on him.
'No malice, though.'
Maybe she wanted revenge for him smacking her head at their first meeting? A ridiculous thought, but probably not.
'Then why follow so stubbornly? Simple curiosity?'
Most who saw Loki's true form feared him and kept their distance. But this girl seemed intrigued instead.
'Still, is she okay?'
Loki hadn't rested or eaten while walking. The girl trailing him must have done the same—no proper food or sleep.
Her determination deserved applause, but it was reckless. An ordinary person would have collapsed long ago from the march, yet she endured.
'But even that has limits.'
Resigned, Loki decided to rest. If he kept going, she'd collapse, and monsters or beasts would surely devour her. He didn't want that weighing on his conscience.
Seeing Loki rest, Salat sighed inwardly in relief. She hadn't wanted to show it, but her body was screaming its limits.
She looked down at her feet. An elf, called a forest fairy, yet her bare soles were covered in wounds from endless walking. No throbbing pain anymore—her feet felt numb.
She knew leaving it like this was dangerous.
"...I suppose treatment is needed."
Startled by the voice from above, Salat jerked her head up. Loki, in his crow mask, loomed over her.
She reflexively pulled her feet back to flee, but they tangled, and she tumbled.
"......!"
'...How?! I heard no sound!'
An elf sensitive to sound—she could detect grass rustling in the forest, yet she'd noticed nothing. Shock turned her mind blank as she stared at Loki.
Ignoring her reaction, Loki reached out, grabbed her sole, and examined it.
"Eek...."
"It's infected."
Her delicate foot seemed ready to shatter under slight pressure. Loki marveled that she'd traversed the forest like this. After days of marching and recent rain, yellow pus already oozed.
"...Mind your own business."
Salat yanked her foot away, struggling to her feet.
At the girl's cold attitude, Loki said, "We'll stay here a few hours. Rest."
"......"
Salat clamped her mouth shut and backed away, wary like a wild animal.
Loki ignored her further and returned to his spot. He glanced back—she just stared at him, no intention of resting.
Silently, Loki pulled camping gear from his inventory. He pitched the tent with exaggerated motions, gathered firewood, and lit it with flint. Unnecessary for him, but he did it to put Salat at ease.
Seeing his efforts, she finally relaxed and moved. She foraged nearby leaves, selected and gathered them, chewed some in her mouth, spat them out, squeezed pus from her sole, and applied the masticated herbs.
"...Ow."
An ancient elven remedy. Effective, but painful—she fought back tears pooling in her eyes.
Securing the herbs with vine, Salat nimbly climbed a tree. She plucked fruit from above, settled in, took a bite, and watched Loki.
'...What an odd one.'
Traveling alone was fine, but a companion might make it more enjoyable. Loki rested by the fire.
The sun rose, waking Salat. After a deep sleep in ages, her body felt light, fatigue gone. Sensation returned to her legs, slightly improved.
"......?"
Groggy, she brushed her hair and blinked at the items beside her. Leather clothes in red and black harmony, with a hood for her head—simple travel wear. Luxurious material, smooth and well-designed.
Beside it, black boots, considering her foot condition.
"This is...?"
From the tree, as she puzzled over the sudden travel outfit and shoes, summoned Ifrit stood nearby, arms crossed.
—He left them.
"...That human?"
Salat turned to look below. The crow-masked man sat on weeds, reading a book to pass time. He could leave anytime, yet he lingered for hours, mindful of her.
She couldn't help but wonder at Loki's care. Why fuss over her so? He could shake her off easily....
As if reading her thoughts, Ifrit shook his head.
—How long are you going to do this?
"What?"
—Following him.
Salat averted her gaze from Ifrit.
"...I don't know."
—What's the reason? Curiosity? Or using him?
Salat blinked at Ifrit. Why was she chasing this enigmatic man? What was her reason? Even asking herself yielded no answer.
Curiosity, as Ifrit said? Maybe. Intrigued by his non-human form.
Or exploitation? No. She didn't think she could use him. She'd tried her divine gift Allure on the crow-masked man before, but it failed.
Seduction herself? "...He doesn't seem the type to chase skirts anyway."
As a woman, seduction seemed futile. His consideration for her vulnerability confirmed it.
Ifrit smirked.
—Is that so? Maybe you're not his type.
"...You saying I'm not attractive?"
Salat's eyes narrowed; Ifrit shook his head.
—Who knows?
His words irked her. Maybe true? She frowned, oddly miffed.
"...Doesn't matter. Who cares about that human's tastes."
"......"
Loki smacked his lips, closing the Map of Continental Nations from the frozen north. Meant to find the next village or city, but the voices above distracted him.
'...She's quite bored, huh.'
Salat shed her slave rags, donning Loki's gifted clothes. Clean and soft. Despite the night chill, they felt warm and cozy. Incredibly comfortable, she slouched unwittingly. The hood could hide her long ears.
The boots were sturdy, tough, yet feather-light.
"...Wow."
She admired the outfit unwittingly.
'What material is this?'
—Impressive clothes.
Ifrit admired for different reasons than Salat.
"...You know about them?"
Ifrit shook his head.
—No. But... it feels like the leather of the long-lost dragonkin. Durable enough to resist most weapons or magic without a scratch. Surprising he'd lend such a thing casually.
Salat was stunned—first time seeing Ifrit praise so effusively.
"Ah, he's moving."
After some time, Loki packed up and started walking. As he did, she followed.
Reason? She didn't know. So she'd chase until she did.