Chapter 21
I nearly died. That was what I thought as I violently exhaled the breath I had been holding.
The final move had been pure gambling—a strategy I myself had not been sure would work.
It was pretending to be dead.
Normally, “playing dead” only worked against dull-witted predators. Against a keen-sensed predator like a magical beast, it would hardly have been surprising if the tactic had backfired instead.
Even if I stopped breathing, my heart would still beat. The presence unique to the living could not be hidden so easily. No matter how faint the traces, beasts with senses as sharp as a magical beast’s could distinguish life from death.
That was why I had decided to play dead.
It was a magical beast that looked like the leader of this forest. It was strong and intelligent. But it was not without weaknesses.
The Hunting Festival was held in this forest every year. If a magical beast of that size had existed here, it would have been dealt with during last year’s Hunting Festival.
Hundreds of promising talents welcomed anywhere on the continent came to scour the entire forest in groups. How could something that enormous have been hidden?
That meant it was not yet a year old. It was far too young to stand shoulder to shoulder with the vicious magical beasts whose names were known across the continent.
Moreover, judging by the way it proudly showed off the prey whose entrails it had spilled, it seemed to have an arrogant and boastful personality.
Whether human or beast, beings with such temperaments tended to be excessively full of themselves.
Whenever I showed signs of fatigue, it grew even more excited. I guessed I was the first true opponent it had ever encountered. With victory over such an enemy within its grasp, there was no way it could hide its wild instincts.
So I decided to take a gamble. At this rate, I was going to die anyway.
If I could wager that life in a gamble instead, I would have more to gain. So, with mana wrapped around my entire body, I deliberately allowed the wolf to land a blow.
Honestly, when my body flew through the air from that terrifying collision, I regretted it a little.
The impact had been that intense. The crash as I slammed into a tree and slid limply down it had not been caused by my own will; I had simply lost consciousness for an instant.
And when I came to, I nearly drew in a deep breath before barely managing to stop myself.
I was suffocating. I wanted to breathe right away. Every part of my body, struck by a living battering ram, desperately demanded oxygen.
But I endured it. I did not even try to calm my breathing, and I did my best to cool the heartbeat heated by the excitement of battle.
Even so, my breath leaked out and my heart continued to beat. It was an unavoidable phenomenon—the fate of the living.
It was not stupid enough to fail to notice that. But I had one thing I was counting on.
The potion Emma had given me. Its effect was to conceal my presence.
Presence was the result of many different factors working together. Sound was one of them, but movement, killing intent, and countless other elements combined into what was collectively called “presence.”
Among them, however, the most significant factors were auditory stimuli such as the sound of breathing and the heartbeat.
The sounds made by moving my body went without saying. And Emma’s potion had the effect of drastically reducing the sound of my breathing and heartbeat.
That was why, when I first drank the potion and ambushed the wolves, my heartbeat slowed and my movements became sluggish. It truly felt as if my body were floating, as if I had become a ghost.
The beast must not have completely disregarded that possibility. In the process of killing all ten of its subordinates, the potion that concealed my presence had performed admirably.
But when the excitement of battle heated its brain and awakened the instincts it had kept buried, it would easily forget something like that.
No matter how intelligent it was, a beast was still a beast. Its memory could not possibly last that long, and it had few means of resisting its instincts.
If it had been a named-class beast, things might have been different. But it was merely an immature magical beast that did not yet have a name.
So it was a plan worth attempting. I simply could not be certain of the outcome. It was a gamble, pure and simple.
The result of that gamble was right before my eyes.
The wolf stared at me vacantly as though it could not believe what had happened, blood gushing from it in spurts.
While it had been examining my body with ecstatic eyes, mana had gradually gathered around my sword—a stronger, sharper blade of mana.
Never in my life had I caused such a brilliant light to bloom from my sword. Yet today, the longer the battle continued, the more saturated my aura became.
That aura had reached its peak as it pierced through the wolf’s neck.
Its densely packed muscles tore apart like paper. I could feel the flesh ripping wherever I pushed with force.
Perhaps in one last desperate struggle, the wolf flailed its forelegs and tried to attack me. But when I thrust the sword upward from below, supporting it as I did so, the strength left its forelegs with a scream.
Blood trickled down. The wolf’s damp breathing gradually grew quieter. The sensation of a life going out had disgusted me at first, but not anymore.
Gritting my teeth and panting, I said,
“Did Emma too, huff… Did Emma collapse like this, gasp, without a word?”
The wolf could not answer. Its entire throat had been pierced. It was only natural, but I found its silence unbearably revolting.
Crack. As I twisted the blade running through its throat, I heard its bones grind out of alignment. An even deeper groan spilled from the wolf’s mouth.
Emma’s gentle smile flashed before my eyes. So did her father, howling because he could not even pray at the temple.
An even darker killing intent settled in my eyes.
“So, gasp… so did you think I was dead too? Hah?”
The wolf’s body began to go limp. It was already over. It was on the verge of death.
Only then did the sword that had been piercing its throat and supporting its body pull free.
Blood poured down as though a torrential rain had begun. Splash! Blood struck the earth. I staggered aside, and the wolf’s body collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.
The groaning wolf’s unfocused eyes remained fixed on me.
It looked as though it were begging for mercy, or perhaps as though it had given up on everything.
A surge of anger that had been knotted in my chest welled up.
I wanted to slit its belly open while it was still alive and spill out its entrails. Just as Emma had suffered, I wanted to return at least a little of that pain to it.
I had actually tried to do so. The hand gripping my sword trembled. I was just about to slit open that soft belly and spill its contents onto the ground.
Then I saw the corpses of the animals whose bellies the magical beast had split open.
That was what magical beasts were—beings that toyed with life as though it were a game and enjoyed inflicting pain.
And I was not a magical beast. I was a human being: Ian Percus, the second son of a rural viscount and a third-year student at the academy the Empire proudly boasted of.
In the end, I stopped the foot I had been about to use to kick the wolf onto its back. Instead, I steadied my breathing and gripped the hilt of my sword with both hands.
Mana gathered around it. Silver aura—the color that symbolized my mindscape.
“The owner of those clothes you spat out, huff… I mean……”
I did not know whether it was listening. Even its groans were fading away. Still, I felt as though its gaze twitched slightly.
It might have been my imagination, but before bringing down my sword, I said one last thing:
“The person who… gasp, killed you… was that person… You’d better remember that.”
I hoped it would be the only revenge I could take for Emma.
And then, smack, blood splattered again.
Perhaps because fatigue had accumulated in my muscles, the blade stopped after cutting only halfway through the wolf’s neck. But that was enough.
Enough to grant rest to that tenacious life as it died.
The moment I confirmed that the wolf’s final breath had faded and that the last spark of life had completely vanished from its eyes,
my body crumpled as though it had collapsed.
I had reached my limit.
**
From the moment Professor Derek heard Seria’s report, he had been racing like a madman.
Whenever a tree appeared before him, he simply swung his sword. Each time, the trees before him exploded all at once as though they had been struck by a bomb.
He was a seasoned swordsman. The moment he saw Seria’s condition, he was able to infer the general situation.
He did not know the exact cause, but Seria had injured her ankle. Then magical beasts had attacked Ian and Seria, and Ian had sent Seria away to request reinforcements so he could protect her.
They could not have been low-ranking magical beasts. If they had been, Seria would never have run so desperately.
And if they had been merely ordinary magical beasts, he would not have requested support. Ian and Seria would have tried to deal with them somehow on their own.
That left only one answer.
Ian’s life was in danger. The moment that thought crossed his mind, Derek began sprinting with all his strength.
Derek knew very well how dangerous magical beasts were. He had spent decades wandering the continent and hunting countless magical beasts. Even so, he still never let his guard down whenever he faced one.
Ian was Derek’s student.
Of course, every student at the academy was precious to him, but Ian had particularly caught Derek’s eye lately.
At first, Ian had overwhelmed Seria with a footwork technique even Derek could not identify. Then, the following week, he had returned with his killing intent somewhat tempered.
Derek had thought his skill had returned to normal, but Ian had taken a single word of advice to heart and secured a draw. He had even shown the magnanimity to spare a junior who was in no position to resist.
He had even heard that Ian had recently been spending time with that “rude” Seria. Seeing them paired together today, it seemed the rumor was true.
It was an admirable attitude. Seria also seemed to follow him in her own peculiar way, acting unusually docile in Ian’s presence. Derek had secretly been pleased, wondering whether spring had finally come even to that “rude brat of Yurdina.”
Who could have imagined that something like this would happen?
He had been careless. Even though it was a forest, he should have considered the possibility of a high-ranking magical beast emerging with the Hunting Festival approaching.
Derek desperately hoped Ian was still alive. Even if he had suffered severe injuries and fallen into a coma, that would be enough. He would find any way necessary to save him.
Derek was an adult, and he was not cowardly enough to avoid responsibility. He was prepared to bear whatever expenses were necessary.
But no matter what one did, the dead could not be brought back to life. If Ian died, Derek would be unable to face his dead student, let alone raise his head before the boy’s family and friends.
Before he knew it, a strong smell of blood brushed the tip of Derek’s nose. His anxiety grew even more intense.
He fervently prayed that the blood stabbing at his nose was not Ian’s alone. Then, just as he entered a clearing,
Derek came to an abrupt stop.
Everything was drenched in blood. The corpses of enormous wolves were scattered all around him. There were clearly more than one or two. When he counted them, there were ten.
It was a number beyond imagination—far too many for the Ian he knew to possibly handle.
But then why were only the corpses of magical beasts scattered throughout this clearing?
As though possessed, Derek walked over, knelt, and examined the magical beasts’ corpses in detail. His trousers were stained with blood, but he paid it no mind. He had once been a magical beast hunter, after all.
Most of the causes of death were ambushes. The wolves had been dealt fatal blows without even managing to resist. Even so, there must have been some degree of physical struggle.
Even while gritting his teeth to suppress the screams that burst from him, Ian must have hidden himself and waited for the next prey.
As an experienced magical beast hunter, Derek naturally pictured the scene in his mind. A chill ran down his spine.
It was not because he felt sympathy for that horrific battle. Rather, it was because the judgment behind it had been so precise.
Fighting several opponents alone was impossible. In that case, he had to hide himself somehow and launch ambushes. Scream in the process? He might have wanted to, but the moment he did, the risk of losing his life would increase exponentially.
In that sense, Ian had been right. But was that truly something an academy student with barely any real combat experience could do?
An image of Ian from a day in the past resurfaced in the depths of Derek’s memory. Those golden eyes, looking especially tired that day.
They had been the eyes of a seasoned killer. Derek was still staring blankly when
a small figure burst into the clearing, panting for breath. She was a cute girl with a lively expression and black hair tied back behind her.
Selin Haster. She had followed Derek.
Her eyes hurriedly swept across the surroundings. Perhaps her anxiety had already reached its peak while following him, because every movement she made seemed desperate.
After looking around several times, Selin spotted Derek and shouted in a strained, frantic voice,
“Professor! I-Ian oppa… huff, where is Ian oppa?”
“He isn’t here.”
At Derek’s blank voice and matter-of-fact answer, Selin’s expression darkened. Around then, the students who had been coming to Derek’s aid began arriving one by one.
Unlike Selin, whose mind had been consumed by thoughts of Ian, the students seemed to share Derek’s reaction the moment they entered the clearing and stopped in their tracks.
It was a horrific sight. Some wolves had died instantly from fatal blows, but others lay dead with brain matter and blood oozing from their heads as though they had been struck repeatedly with an axe. One wolf had died with its nose smashed into the ground.
Only Selin was in a hurry. She bit down on her lip and was just about to run in some unknown direction when
“Follow me.”
Derek said that and began walking slowly. The strange certainty in his voice made the students exchange bewildered looks.
Selin checked the direction Derek was walking in, then, unable to bear her impatience, rushed ahead in that direction.
However, it did not take long for her and Derek to meet again.
In a nearby clearing, Selin stood staring blankly.
Derek arrived next, followed in turn by the students.
They all stood frozen in place, watching the scene before them.
There, a black-haired man with golden eyes was sitting on the ground.
His back rested against an enormous wolf, so huge that merely looking at it was overwhelming.
The ground was thoroughly soaked in blood. No sign of life could be seen in the wolf’s closed eyes. It was unmistakably dead.
Then had he hunted them?
It was inevitable that everyone’s gaze turned toward the man.
He had buried himself in the wolf’s body, perhaps savoring the softness of its fluffy fur.
Then, panting as though he were about to breathe his last, he directed his exhausted gaze toward them all.
His hand rose weakly. It seemed to be some sort of greeting.
“……You’re terribly late, Professor Derek.”
There was a faint reproach in his words.