The One Who Guides Wind and Flame (7)

The good thing about grasslands is that you can see far into the distance in every direction.

The bad thing about grasslands is that the view is so clear that there is nowhere to hide.

Far beyond the edge of my vision, dozens of cavalrymen were approaching us.

The fact that I could see them with my naked eyes meant that they could see me as well.

The Daria cavalrymen all drew their bows and fired their arrows toward the sky.

Dozens of arrows traced arcs through the air before raining down on me.

It was an absurdly grand attack against a single opponent.

They did not introduce themselves, ask why I stood alone in their way, or call on me to surrender.

They neither underestimated me nor tried to conserve their arrows by trampling me with their horses; instead, they attacked me at full force.

Although the previous raiding party had been defeated in a way they could not comprehend, it was unusual to see such a thorough response.

Whether this was peculiar to the Daria people or true of all the nomads living on these grasslands, I did not know, but they were undeniably strong and capable warriors.

Unfortunately, the strength of numbers meant very little against me.

"Wind spirit."

I murmured and swept my hand wide, causing the raging wind to sweep away the rain of arrows all at once.

To my surprise, the cavalrymen had already begun their charge, with arrows nocked and aimed straight at me from horseback.

It was as though they had anticipated that their previous attack would not work.

Their first volley used small arrowheads for arcing, long-distance shots, while the arrows they nocked next had large arrowheads and were meant to fly straight with greater force at close range.

But those arrows could not reach me either.

When I held up my hand toward them, the wind spirit fired compressed-air cannonballs that accurately intercepted the incoming arrows.

Confusion flashed across the faces of the cavalrymen whose deadly arrows had been stopped.

Even so, they did not stop and drew their close-combat weapons.

Their weapons were curved swords, short spears, and war picks—pickaxes intended for combat.

As they raced past me, they brought their weapons crashing down.

If they used their horses' momentum to strike with close-combat weapons, surely even the wind could not stop them.

Their intentions were obvious.

But I had no obligation to take such an attack head-on.

I raised a hand toward the charging cavalrymen and spoke once more.

"Wind spirit."

Responding to my call, the wind spirit fired compressed-air cannonballs even more powerful than those that had shot down the arrows, striking the cavalrymen in the chest.

The horses ran past me as the cavalrymen who had been riding them were flung away and fell to the ground.

The wind gently reduced the impact of their fall, so they should not have suffered fatal injuries.

If I were facing an army of thousands or tens of thousands of soldiers, I would not have the luxury of worrying about their lives, but with this many, incapacitating them without killing them was not particularly difficult.

If they intended to kill me, they needed individual strength, not an army.

For example, an immortal, a dragon, or a giant.

Or perhaps, if White Lake's full roster—Cleias in his prime, Martena, and Airena—had been together, they might have been able to kill me.

If Airena suppressed the spirit's power even a little, Martena supplemented it with her divine art, telekinesis, and Cleias closed in... even I think I would die.

Even now, I think I could trade blows with Cleias for a while, but once he got into close range, I still would not be able to escape his reach.

A battle against them was impossible anyway, since they were already dead.

The Daria cavalrymen were all capable warriors, but they were still far from possessing overwhelming individual strength.

Thus, every time I spoke or swung my hand, the cavalrymen were knocked from their horses.

But then.

When I twisted aside to avoid the powerful killing intent directed at me, a flower of flame bloomed and scattered with a pop where my face had just been.

Ah, just as I had imagined, he was a divine-arts user with an ignition ability.

Divine arts vary greatly according to individual aptitude, so I cannot make blanket statements, but they often require no incantation and activate quickly, making them difficult to counter.

Of these, pyrokinesis was likely among the most troublesome: it presumably activated simply by infusing one's gaze with intent, then burned whatever one looked at.

But his ability was exactly as I had expected, and I had identified its user as well, so it would no longer work on me.

The killing intent struck me again.

But I calmly placed a single spark—the remnant of the flower of flame that had scattered in midair—on my palm and said,

"Fire spirit."

I murmured.

The next moment, his ignition ability activated, and flames engulfed my body.

The flames were far larger and stronger than the first,

Yet I did not burn.

Neither did my clothes, the bow I carried, or the magic sword at my waist.

The fire spirit had taken up residence in that single spark—the remnant of the flower of flame that had scattered moments earlier.

As long as that spirit remained, regardless of whether it was male or female, the flames could never hurt me again.

I drew the magic sword at my waist and charged.

I charged toward the man who had unleashed the flames—the ignition user known as the Child of Flame.

No one moved to stop me.

The flames that should have been fatal—the Daria people's symbol of power—had no effect on me whatsoever.

Every gaze turned toward me held unmistakable fear.

They were well-trained soldiers, but it seemed they had finally lost their nerve.

The same went for the Child of Flame, whom I was now closing in on.

Fear drove him to unleash his ignition ability at me again and again.

But each time, I slashed through his line of sight—the manifestation of that power—with my magic sword.

The sword's tip caught fire.

Yet the magic sword, strengthened by the magic power coursing through it, was not even scratched by flames like that.

Since the fire spirit was protecting me, I could have let the flames hit me, but this probably made their despair even greater.

So I deliberately overpowered his ignition ability with my sword.

As I drew close, I held my magic sword to the Child of Flame, who had forgotten even how to flee and was shouting something.

"All right, I've caught you. That means I've won."

...I said with a smile.

The effect was immediate.

Strength is generally an advantage, but sometimes it can also be a weakness.

For example, the Daria people's morale collapsed when their strongest Child of Flame was defeated so easily.

Then, still holding the Child of Flame captive, I drove away the surrounding cavalrymen and returned to the Barm people's settlement.

I took several of the horses they had left behind as a little souvenir.