Traces of the Master
Zeron scratched at his messy hair as he sat up. Sunlight was leaking through the gaps in the inn’s curtains.
“Haaam…” He yawned, sliding a lazy glance toward the naked woman lying beside him. Her snow-white skin sparkled in the morning light. Just as he’d expected the night before, she was a full-figured blonde. Her breasts were so massive that grabbing one with a single hand would leave the rest spilling over.
“Mmm… what…? You’re awake…?” She stirred as well, rubbing sleepy eyes and flashing a dopey smile. She definitely had a pretty face.
“Yeah. Go back to sleep.” Zeron rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
After washing up and changing clothes, he stepped back into the room to find her sitting on the bed, staring at him.
“You’re leaving already? Can’t you stay just a little longer?” She pouted, then squeezed her own enormous breasts. Her tongue slowly traced her lower lip. “I… I’m in the mood right now. Won’t you do me one more time before you go?”
Her voice was sticky and coaxing. Zeron didn’t even spare her a glance as he turned away.
“Busy.”
“Tch… Ah, wait a second before you leave.”
When he looked back, she had hopped off the bed and was trotting toward him. Her massive chest bounced violently with every step. She hesitated a moment, then rose on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Last night was really good. And… you should smile more. I think you’d look way more handsome if you did.”
Zeron’s face stiffened. Who the fuck are you to tell me that? The words crawled up his throat, but he swallowed them, figuring he could at least show a little courtesy for the one-night stand.
“Yeah, I’ll try.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward in an awkward half-smile.
The woman stared at him, dazed. Her cheeks flushed bright red. By the time she snapped out of it, the door had already slammed shut behind him. She gazed at the closed door with lingering regret.
“I should’ve tried to hold onto him longer…” He hadn’t even let her kiss him last night. Maybe he had a girl waiting back home?
“Sigh. Whatever.” She could only shake it off. “Still… it’s a shame.”
In the forest Zeron had left behind, the same place where the Void had lingered until recently, a figure dropped from the sky.
“Hmm… someone beat me here.”
His sharp eyes swept the area. He pieced together what had happened from the remaining traces, running through one inference after another. Soon a glint of interest flashed in his gaze.
One person? A Mountain Turtle possessing at least upper-Expert strength… taken down by a single individual?
His previously light presence grew heavy and dark. The implication was obvious. Whoever had faced the Mountain Turtle was at minimum an upper-Expert, or possibly… a Master.
Considering the creature’s size and the special nature of a Void, the scales tipped heavily toward Master. The traces of an overwhelmingly one-sided battle only reinforced that conclusion.
A Master from another nation. Or… has a new Master been born inside the kingdom…?
The man’s expression turned grave. It was unlikely to be a foreign Master. They wouldn’t sneak into the kingdom in secret just to hunt a Void. Were they after the gem? But other countries had plenty of Voids, and a gem always emerged from killing one. There was no need to dispatch a Master in secret. The Master realm was not something moved lightly, no matter how great the demand.
I can only pray this person is friendly toward the kingdom…
There was only one Master currently inside the kingdom. If this unknown Master turned hostile… the mere thought made his head spin.
“Hm?”
As he examined the traces further, his expression changed again. The grass was dry and dead. He nudged it lightly with his foot. It crumbled strangely into dust.
Magic…? No. Killing intent.
A faint trace of murderous aura still lingered. His eyes scanned the surroundings. Now that he noticed, every tree nearby had withered and died. He tapped one lightly—thud—and a shower of dry leaves and dead insects rained down.
The man’s face darkened.
“It would be nice if this was simply someone with a deep grudge against the Void…”
He let out a heavy sigh and turned away. He needed to report to the king immediately. The appearance of a new Master… and it was probably not good news for the kingdom.
After two more days of running, Zeron reached the capital just as darkness swallowed the surroundings. Before stepping into the academy, he rubbed at his mouth. Having gone days without smiling, the corners of his lips had gone stiff.
“Eee— ii— ah—, aaah—”
After a bit of stretching, he forced the corners of his mouth upward. He judged the grin as passable by his own standards.
“Yeah, good enough.”
He strolled leisurely through the capital’s streets. Beneath the streetlamps, only a few staggering drunks wandered the night roads. The street was quiet. The occasional cry of insects reached his ears—sounds he normally wouldn’t bother noticing.
Then a noisy murmur drifted from afar, shattering the calm.
“Dear god, another artist?”
“What a terrifying world we live in.”
“What the hell did this guy do to end up like that?”
“Who knows. Maybe he was a rapist like the last one.”
“That I don’t know. There was that time someone got the same treatment for stealing a piece of bread.”
From the chatter, it sounded like the so-called “Artist” had struck again. Curiosity stirred, so Zeron turned his steps in that direction.
After walking quickly for a short while, flickering lights appeared ahead. A crowd of murmuring people and guards trying to hold them back were making a racket.
What the hell happened? “Please step back.” The overlapping voices blended into a noisy hum.
Not wanting to wade into the crowd, Zeron kicked off the ground and leapt onto a rooftop.
“Let’s see…”
A guard was just then shining a lantern across the scene. Beneath that spotlight, the reason for the nickname “Artist” became clear.
A head nailed to the wall with a dagger. Both eyeballs had been gouged out—sold off somewhere, perhaps—leaving empty sockets. The torso was missing entirely. The limbs, joints bent backward, were likewise pinned with daggers, arranged around the head like a grotesque pinwheel.
Or maybe it was supposed to be a swastika?
“Oh…”
Zeron let out a low whistle of admiration, then chuckled. Definitely not someone in their right mind. Good thing the kid wasn’t with him. If she had seen this, she would’ve cried her eyes out and puked everything in her stomach.
“The Artist. The Artist, huh…”
Zeron rolled the words around in his mouth. Somehow he felt like he would run into this person soon. As long as they didn’t come at him, it was none of his business.
Humming a little tune, he headed for the academy. For some reason, his mood had improved.
When he reached the dormitory, Lunalind was waiting out front.
“Wait… don’t you sleep? You haven’t been waiting for me every single time, have you?”
“…I came out after sleeping. I received word that you had returned.”
Looking closer, she did seem a bit more disheveled than usual. Her straw-colored hair looked slightly puffed up.
“Oh… that must suck.”
“If you know that, then try coming back while the sun is still up.” Lunalind grumbled as she fell into step behind him.
Zeron considered inviting her for a drink but decided against it. She looked like she might bite his head off.
“Go inside and rest. And don’t bother coming out to greet me at night anymore.”
“That is my job. Unless you plan to hire me, just return while it’s still light out.”
“Oh? Want me to hire you?”
At that, Lunalind’s expression stiffened slightly.
“…I must decline. It seems my chastity would be at risk.”
“The hell? Why are you treating me like some kind of rapist?”
Zeron gave a short laugh and opened the door. The room was exactly as he had left it.
“Ah, now that I think about it, would it be all right to clean the room while you’re out?”
“Do as you like. Actually, no—just don’t clean unless I say so. It’d be a pain in the ass trying to find things later.”
“Understood.”
Lunalind gave a polite bow. Her usual attitude was insolent, yet she was strangely courteous in the oddest moments.
“Yeah, get some rest.”
Zeron flicked her a silver coin. She caught it without protest.
Once inside, he tossed his luggage aside and headed straight for the bathroom. After washing up and throwing himself onto the bed, the lazy relaxation that spread through his entire body felt damn good.
“Looks like I’ve got two days off starting now.”
Today was Saturday. Classes were only on Tuesday and Thursday, so Sunday and Monday were free.
“What should I do tomorrow…”
Mulling it over, Zeron closed his eyes. His consciousness was painted pitch black, and soon an entirely new landscape unfolded.
He was high in the sky.
Above the blue expanse of sky.
Zeron walked across empty air. Thud. Thud. The mana beneath his feet repelled the mana in the air, letting him stride forward. From that lofty height he looked down.
Humans with blurred faces scattered in every direction, screaming.
What is this? Even as the question formed in his mind, his body moved on its own. The sword in his hand sliced through the air with a whoosh. KWAHAAAH—! A colossal scar tore across the earth and humans died like ants.
Only then did he feel a faint emotion. Though it belonged to him, it felt strangely distant—clearly despair and rage.
He kept walking. Each step folded space, changing the scenery below in an instant. A swing of his sword split the ground. A stomp sent the earth surging upward. Faced with such overwhelming power, the humans couldn’t even think of resisting. They died helplessly.
Refreshing.
That was what he thought.
I’ll kill everything. Erase it all.
The version of him inside the dream thought so. The sword in his dream-self’s hand moved without hesitation—strong, fast, like lightning, like a tidal wave. Rough and ferocious, yet it had reached a single, perfect principle.
Zeron memorized the sensation. This was the path he had to walk. If an answer sheet lay before him, the time needed would be drastically shortened. The ominous feeling that had been growing stronger lately meant he couldn’t afford to waste this chance.
He swung the sword. Humans died. The sensation grew more familiar with every strike. A sense of liberation washed over him, and he woke from the dream.
“Ah, fuck.”
Zeron let out a long sigh and pressed a hand to his forehead. The dream itself hadn’t been bad. The version of him inside it had seemed to be in a truly shitty mood, but that wasn’t him.
But…
“No, fuck… I definitely took it out before sleeping…”
This was a bit much. He wasn’t some damn middle-schooler.
He peeled off his sticky pants and underwear, thinking. No wonder that final rush of liberation had felt so familiar.
Knock. Knock.
“May I come in?”