Variables (2)
Two pairs of crimson eyes clashed in the empty air.
The temperature gap between them was extreme. One side betrayed no emotion whatsoever; the other made no effort to conceal a blazing hostility.
"……"
Kilian glared at her in silence, then let out a breath, soothing the fury that threatened to tear him apart. There was something he wanted to hear from her own lips, if ever they met.
"Is it true?"
"What is?"
"That you usurped the King's Tattoo from the forest temple and stripped the chief—who was trying to stop you—of his mind. That is what I'm asking. Did you do it, or not?"
When he had first heard the news, he'd taken it for a tasteless joke. The sister he knew, for all her rotten temperament, was someone who deserved respect. She had risen to the position of war chief at a mere eighteen, the strongest warrior in the forest, his idol—someone who understood exactly what duty meant.
"Yep, it's true."
"……"
A winter wind swept through the woods with a desolate keening. His lips were bitten so hard that he tasted blood in his mouth. Deep down, he had been hoping she would deny it. Maybe he'd wanted to hear her say it was all a misunderstanding, that she could never have done such a thing.
If she had, then no matter how long it took, someday… they could have cleared the air and gone back to the way things were.
But that affirmation, spat out with a hollowness that felt almost absurd in its ease—without a flicker of hesitation, without even a trace of guilt—drained all the strength from his body.
"I see you don't even intend to make excuses."
"Why would I need to?"
"…Are you aware? Because of what you did, the chief you robbed of his mind, and the forest warriors who loved you most and whom you loved most, were forced to meet disgraceful deaths. Not even on a battlefield."
"Oh my. How tragic."
Nothing about her attitude showed the slightest hint of remorse. Deciding that any further conversation would be pointless, Kilian raised his fist—and her eyes went wide.
"You're going to attack me? You can't possibly be blind to the gap between us."
"It doesn't matter. A warrior of the forest never backs down, no matter how strong the opponent."
"You stupid little brother. Sometimes you yield. Sometimes you run. That's how you live wisely in this world."
"What Father and the chief taught me wasn't a wise life. It was a warrior's life."
"…Honestly, you stubborn fools of the forest."
Shaking her head in exasperation, she offered a piece of advice. "You sure about this? If you don't go help him now, your friend is going to die."
"Oscar is strong. He won't be bested by puppets like those."
With eyes that held not a shadow of doubt, Kilian charged straight at her.
BOOOM!
"Hahk, hah…!"
"Haah, haah."
Terror was written across the faces of the two mercenaries as they tore through the forest, gasping for breath. The pursuers behind them didn't stop even when their limbs—even their necks—snapped.
"Agh!"
Just then, one of the mercenaries caught his foot on a stone and went sprawling. He stretched out a hand toward the man running ahead of him.
"H-help me! Please!"
"……"
As the other stopped and turned back, conflict flashed across his face. They weren't friends, weren't anything at all—just two strangers who'd met for this one contract. No one would point fingers at him for refusing to help. Better still, if he used the man as a sacrifice, he could make it out of the forest alive.
"…Damn it, damn it!"
And yet his feet carried him backward without his consent. Perhaps it was because of the photograph of his young son, the one he'd shown off so proudly.
"Got you!"
The instant he hastily grabbed the fallen man's hand and hauled him up, an enemy burst out from behind a tree, blade swinging.
Well, shit—
This was why a man shouldn't go doing things he never did normally. The moment despair filled the eyes of the mercenary as he clenched his teeth—
A single gust of wind rose, and then—BOOOM!—the enemy mercenary was slammed headfirst into a tree.
"Are you all right?"
"Oscar!"
Relief flooded the mercenaries' faces at the sight of their ally. Level 3 or not, this was the mage who had fought more brilliantly than anyone else that night.
Oscar fixed his gaze on the enemies shambling toward them, drool streaming from their mouths, and spoke.
"If you know anything about them, tell me everything."
"Uh…"
The two mercenaries looked at each other, then poured out everything they knew before either could claim the first word.
"Seems like they can't feel pain. One of them kept charging even with a sword stuck in him."
"Breaking their arms and legs won't even slow them down. You have to go for the head. Piercing the heart kills them too, but it takes forever."
"Do you know anything about why they ended up like this?"
"Not that far, but I heard Kilian call the woman leading them Kaya Lockwood."
"…Kaya Lockwood?"
Oscar flinched at the familiar name dropping out of nowhere. How could he not know it? That was the name of the daughter Radan had bragged about endlessly, photos and all.
If his opponent really is Radan's daughter…
His mind, whirring at blinding speed, produced a single conclusion. Wait—could this be the effect of the King's Tattoo?
It was a tattoo passed down to only one warrior of the forest in each generation—the one called the strongest of the age. An artifact bearing the power to command every tattooist, destined to make its bearer the next chief. And when its wielder died, the tattoo vanished from their skin and returned to the forest temple.
If that's true, then the technique that turned those men into… that must be—
Morale Boost, one of the abilities of the King's Tattoo. Naturally, it was never meant to rob people of their minds and turn them into madmen. It was a spell that infused allies with a measure of confidence and exaltation.
But she's cranked that number all the way to the limit.
Oscar had only ever entertained the theory himself; this was the first time he'd seen it done in practice.
Just then, the allied mercenaries came up with weapons in hand and fell in at his shoulders.
"We cut down a few while running, but there are still plenty of them."
"Forty at the very least."
"Grrrrr."
"Graaah."
The deranged mercenaries rolled their eyes, letting out beast-like sounds as they closed in slowly. At that moment, Oscar's eyes, brimming with mana, flared to life.
Radan said the underlying principle of Morale Boost is mana poured in continuously.
And sure enough, thin threads of mana were connected above the mercenaries' heads. Of course, seeing them didn't mean he could sever them. Those threads were far too sturdy for a mere Level 3 mage to cut.
But that doesn't mean there's no way.
Oscar closed both eyes and spoke. "Thirty seconds. Buy me exactly that much time."
"W-wait. Thirty seconds?"
"Against numbers like that, you think that's easy to say?"
Ignoring his allies' cries, he sank into deep meditation. Mana raced through his three mana circuits, searing heat through his entire body.
"GRAAAAAH!"
"GRRRR!"
The enemies chose that moment to charge with a chorus of shrieks.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
"Hell—just hold on!"
gritting their teeth, the two swung their weapons. The mindless enemies swung wildly with simple attack trajectories, so holding out was easier than expected. The problem, as ever, was sheer numbers. Enemies too many for four hands alone surrounded them in an instant.
"GAAAK!"
"Damn it…!"
Wounds began to mount, and pained screams burst from the two men's lips—at the very moment Oscar let out a soft breath and completed a single spell.
Isolation Garden
SHREEEEE—!
With a piercing high-frequency shriek, a field of mana spread outward from him, annihilating every trace of air and mana within a radius of roughly twenty meters. Though it lasted but an instant, what took shape in that space was perfect emptiness.
If I can't cut the threads of mana, then I need only create an environment where mana itself cannot exist.
Thud. Crumple. Slump.
The enemies, their Morale Boost connections forcibly severed, collapsed where they stood as if fainting. When he released the spell, both mercenaries sank to the ground and let out the breaths they'd been holding.
"HOOAAH! O-Oscar!"
"D-don't tell me that was…?"
"No."
Oscar shook his head, having guessed exactly what they were thinking. This was nothing more than a faithful imitation of Edna's signature magic, which he'd decided was worth borrowing. It was a rather flashy area spell, but it couldn't begin to compare with releasing a world of one's own.
"You two, head back to the estate first."
"What? You're not coming with us?"
"No. It's just…"
Deep within the forest, Oscar gazed at the abyss where an enormous power had been writhing since moments ago, and murmured:
"There's someone I need to go collect."
Each time Kilian moved, a crimson gleam trailed after him like an afterimage. Moving at a staggering speed, he unleashed attack after attack without pause. Each and every blow was devastating enough to split trees and shatter boulders.
And yet—
None of them landed.
Kaya was evading every attack cleanly, by a margin no wider than a sheet of paper.
"Your footwork's improved, hasn't it? You've dropped a lot of those bad habits, too."
"……"
Her attitude—like a connoisseur admiring his skill—set Kilian's teeth grinding. At the same time, two more of the tattoos etched into his body began to glow.
Wind Blade, Sharpness.
Silver mana seeped into the five fingers he raised, stretching out in an instant into something like the claws of a wolf. This was Kilian's own signature magic, forged by fusing two spells into one.
Wolf's Song
KRAKAKAKAKA!
The razor claws he swung with a twisting of his hips cut through every tree and rock in their path—only to be blocked, with absurd ease, by Kaya's index finger alone.
"Mm, not bad. You've definitely grown a lot stronger."
"Ghk."
Suddenly, she leaned her head forward. "But your attacks are still too honest. You don't know how to deceive your opponent."
"A warrior of the forest doesn't stoop to such tricks."
"Which is exactly why you're stu… hmm?"
Kaya's brow furrowed as her words cut off abruptly. The Morale Boost she had cast had been severed, one-sidedly and completely.
Someone cut it? Who? How?
The instant countless questions flashed through her eyes, a voice sounded in Kilian's ear.
—Duck.
The moment he realized it was Oscar's voice, Kilian dropped low. What shot through the space where he'd been standing was a single round of Wind Sniping.
PAANG!
Kaya instinctively caught the wind bullet flying at her and crushed it—but her eyes wavered. …Wind?
Which meant the one who had severed the Morale Boost was Oscar Crucian, that Level 3 mage? The moment she put on an expression of profound disbelief—
"Eyes on me!"
Kilian's fist, laden with silver mana like a blaze of light, drove an uppercut into her jaw.