After five days, it was finally time to pick up Al's new weapon.
"All right, be careful. Make sure you come straight back."
After receiving a warning from Rit, Al waved to her and headed off to pick up the sword
he'd been anxiously waiting to finally have in his hands.
Al was wearing a full-body black cloak to hide his identity as a precautionary measure.
"I'll be back soon," Al called, though he looked nervous.
It was raining that day. Summer had only just passed, but the cold precipitation felt
like a prelude to an early winter. Beneath the cloak, a figure trembled slightly from the
chill. With a hand on the hilt of a shotel, the hooded person continued onward.
Mogrim's workshop was at the other end of an approaching alley.
"…!"
After rounding the corner, the cloaked figure was suddenly surrounded by a group of
eight—four in front and four behind.
"Heh-heh-heh… Al, boy."
The men were grinning. Each carried an ax.
"Mr. Bighawk would like a word with you. Won't you come with us?"
Slowly, the men approached, brandishing their weapons suggestively.
"Scared? Cat got your tongue? Don't worry, you don't need to be scared. If you behave
yourself, you won't get hurt."
A trembling issued from beneath the hood at the threat.
"Hah-hah-hah…," chuckled the concealed person.
"What is it, Al? Gone mad from fear?"
"Wait. That laugh… That didn't sound like a kid's voice…"
The Cloak of Disguise was cast into the air and landed on the ground with a gentle
sound. The one who'd been wearing it was glad to be free of its illusory magic.
"Oh, did you mistake me for Al? Sorry to disappoint, but it's me!" Rit declared
triumphantly. Al's magic shotel hung at her waist.
"Too bad Locate can't tell you who's holding the sword! Thanks for taking the bait!"
Two of the men immediately leaped at Rit from behind. Doubtless, they figured their
only chance was to pounce before Rit had an opportunity to draw her weapon. By the
time they reached her, however, she already had a shotel in both hands, and they fell
to the ground amid a splatter of blood.
"Going from twenty to twenty-eight, huh? That might be enough that Bighawk notices."
Most of the ax-wielding men reflexively pulled back a bit as Rit grinned fearlessly. One
brave man took a single step forward, however.
"I don't plan on boosting your count, so you better make it twenty-seven," he snarled.
"Oh, you don't say? I mean, I suppose that's true… what with you not being a human
and all."
The one who'd stepped forward suddenly opened his mouth so wide that the corners
began to split. Eventually, they tore, and the man's body grew to twice its size. His flesh
was now a coppery red sort of color, and his muscles had grown swollen and large. His
hands had merged with the two axes he'd previously been holding.
"Hey, ax demon, there's something I've always been curious about," Rit called.
"Oh? Maybe I'll answer you, if I feel like it. What is it?" the creature shot back.
"It must be pretty hard to wash yourself with hands like that, right? I'm sure that
causes a number of problems, but doesn't the smell ever bother you?"
"You better watch your mouth, girl!"
The demon charged in, its reddish face turning a brighter hue at Rit's wisecrack.
Assuming a combative stance with a shotel in either hand, Rit engaged the demon.
Al was back at the shop. The two guards who had looked after Al five days before were
there, too, sticking around as protection. No one said a word as the sound of the rain
hitting the roof resounded in the shop. The plan was for Rit to catch the attackers she
lured out by pretending to be Al and bring them back to hand over to the guards.
There was no proof that she would be attacked, but Red had said that the odds of it
happening were high. Red himself was following Rit at a distance, just in case anything
happened to her. That was why the two guards were in the shop.
Suddenly, there was a thud at the door. The closed sign was up, so it couldn't have been
a customer. Al's expression tensed.
One of the guards drew the shortsword at his waist and approached the entrance. The
other readied his halberd. Al himself pulled out his own shotel, which had been
secretly delivered the night before. Al could feel his fear dissipate just from the simple
act of drawing it. His new sword fit his hand perfectly, like it was an extension of
himself. It felt far more natural than that expensive magic sword.
"Who is it?" the guard near the door asked.
"It's me."
Al had heard the voice before. It was the voice of the short man who had brought him
the dubious shotel.
"He's one of Bighawk's men!" Al warned in a low but emphatic tone.
The guard nodded in understanding… and then unlocked the door.
"Huh?"
Al didn't understand what was happening. The two guards that were supposed to be
there to protect him withdrew their weapons and nodded respectfully to the intruder
as he entered.
This time, he was wearing a poncho over a thief's outfit, instead of the mage-style garb
he'd had on before. There was a chainmail shirt sewed into the underside of his clothes
that served as armor while hardly making any noise when he moved. The poncho was
an expensive item, made from fire rat skin that boasted a high resistance to fire.
Behind him were two bodyguards wrapped in black hooded cloaks.
"What an ungrateful child, using such a cheap little thing when Mr. Bighawk gave you
such a nice gift already," the man said with a smirk.
"How…?" Al asked, incredulous.
"It's quite simple, really."
The man gave a gesture, and one of the bodyguards took two bags of silver coins out
of his cloak and handed them over to the guards.
"Heh-heh, thank you, kindly."
"You were working with Bighawk?!"
"I'm sure Rit thought she was getting the drop on us, and letting her think that was the
case was the safest choice. She's a right old hero, so of course she would see through
the magic hidden on that weapon and think to use it as a trap to lure us out. Her being
out springing her little trap was the best time for us to pounce. We've been one step
ahead the whole time."
Al readied his sword, but the man just snickered and tossed some sort of ball from
inside his sleeve. The sphere popped at Al's feet and spread a sticky green substance
all around.
"Wh-what is this?!"
"An adhesive bomb. May not look it, but I have an Alchemist blessing."
Curiously, the glue-like stuff didn't cling to the man's coat. Clearly, he'd covered it in
some sort of resistant chemical beforehand.
"What are you going to do with me?!" Al demanded.
"Nothing bad. It's just that every revolution needs its figurehead, and Mr. Bighawk's a
bit too dirty to play that part. There's another choice, too, but he's not from
Southmarsh. On that point, though, you don't have any skeletons in your closet, and
you've got that magnificent Weapon Master blessing. All we want is for you to be
Southmarsh's little hero."
"What do you mean 'hero'…?"
"We're going to put you and Ademi together."
"Ademi?! Where has he been hiding?! Wait, don't tell me…"
A foreboding grin spread across the man's face, but he didn't answer.
"Whoops, can't be sticking around too long. Wouldn't want the folks around here to
catch on. Let's get out while the getting's good."
Unable to resist at all, Al was carried away to Bighawk's residence.
Amid the rows of shacks in Southmarsh, Bighawk's extravagant residence surrounded
by a stout fence stood out like a sore thumb. It was a three-story mansion made of
stone. As land in the area was so cheap, it covered a large circumference. Al was lying
on top of a red carpet inside that very building. Despite the fact that he had been rather
carelessly tossed to the floor, the lush, expensive carpet had cushioned his fall perfectly.
"What are you planning to do to me?!" While Al was acting brave, there was a tremor
in his voice. The half-elf had been robbed of his shotel. He was stunned to discover
that the courage he'd felt before had only been a false bravado granted by his blessing.
I'm just the same as I was back when I got scared of the dark… Al trembled in fear,
fighting back tears with all his might.
"So you're Al, huh?" The half-orc who beckoned to Al was more imposing than his
rather average height and portly build first suggested.
"Are you Bi—… Mr. Bighawk, sir?"
Bighawk's lips curled around his protruding fangs. Al could sort of understand that it
was probably a smile.
"I am, indeed, brother. I'm the man who's been looking after all of Southmarsh. No
need to be too formal, since as far as I'm concerned, everyone in Southmarsh is my
family. You can just call me Mr. Bighawk."
The half-orc smiled in his own way while he approached. As his thick fingers plucked
Al up by the shoulder, he finally noticed that the frightened boy was holding back tears.
"You're a strong-willed one. Looks like my eyes didn't deceive me."
"Wh-what do you mean…?"
"Did they not tell you? I want to have you become a hero."
Whatever Bighawk meant by that, Al didn't understand.
"I should start from the beginning. First of all, I imagine you don't need this part
explained, but the terrible state of our Southmarsh lies at the heart of it all. As a fellow
Southmarsh man, you know that as well as anyone. We're outsiders. Outsiders who
came from elsewhere with the hope of living here in Zoltan, and yet the people in the
council pushed us all out here."
"Yes, I know that…"
"That's why I decided to rise above. I made a name for myself in the Thieves Guild.
Unlike those lazy Zoltan good-for-nothings, I was raised in the slums of the capital of
the Duchy of Daigan. The cushy life you can lead here is nothing compared to growing
up there. I learned the way of poison and daggers in the City of Intrigue, Daigan, where
the four great aristocrat families have been plotting against one another in the
shadows for decades; I'm nothing like these frontier weaklings. I killed anyone who
got in my way—ally or enemy. It made no difference. And no one had the spine to even
try to get revenge. Cowards that they are, they all just ran away."
As Bighawk expounded on a number of his own exploits, Al couldn't help but grind his
teeth as he was made to listen to the litany of cruel, terrible deeds.
"That's how I built myself up, created a power that even those council guys couldn't
lay a hand on. Even that on its own would've been impressive enough, don't you
think?"
"…"
"It wasn't enough for me, though. I knew I could stand even higher. If I were the one
running Zoltan instead of those foolish, apathetic, worthless men, there would finally
be some real changes around here!"
"What does that have to do with coming after me?" Al asked.
"You heard of that drug I've been spreading around? Apparently, the council has been
calling it 'False Prophet,' but its actual name is 'Devil's Blessing.'"
"Devil's Blessing?"
"Yeah. See, originally, blessings were absolute. You could only have the one granted to
you by Almighty Demis. That blessing decided a person's livelihood and their role in
life, and there was no way to change it. The purpose of people's lives was to fulfill the
role that God had granted them."
Bighawk spread his arms wide.
"That doesn't mean there's never been people who've struggled to accept their Godgiven roles, however. In fact, most people couldn't. They suffered under the disconnect
between the role their blessings demanded and the life that they wanted to live, and
eventually, they died having wasted their existences! I would've been no different! My
blessing is Master Torturer. A garbage blessing that sentenced me to live out my life in
some prison filled with screams of pain and terror! A hole in the ground where blood,
sweat, and the smell of human excrement permeated everything! I ask you, who could
accept that? I didn't want that kind of a life. I wanted to be a man like my father, who
was born on the dark continent, became a hussar, pillaged far and wide, killed all he
could, and then died just as he lived! I wanted to be a powerful soldier who rampaged
as he pleased!"
Al realized that the half-orc before him was the end result of rejecting one's blessing
like Red had described before.
"Devil's Blessing was truly a gift to those of us who refused to reconcile with what God
had given us. It bestows a new blessing and weakens the impulses of our innate ones.
It's a medicine that grants you the right to begin a new life. With it, you can be whoever
you want."
"A new blessing?"
"Devil's Blessing is made using demons' hearts. The variant going around right now
was made from the hearts of fifty ax demons."
"Demons' hearts?!" Al exclaimed.
"I don't know the details of the theory behind it. Who cares, right? All I needed was to
figure out how to use it. With this new weapon at my disposal, I will become the king
of Zoltan."
At first, Al thought Bighawk meant that in some sort of metaphorical sense. Zoltan was
a republic, with power split between the council and the mayor. Even though racist
sentiments were common in Zoltan, there was no way that a nonaristocratic half-orc
like Bighawk would be allowed to become a member of the council. Much the same
was true of becoming mayor as well, even if Bighawk spent a fortune on a campaign.
That was why Al thought the man meant a figurative king. When Al saw the intensity
in Bighawk's eyes, however, he knew the man had meant it literally. He was serious
about conquering Zoltan and ruling over its people.
"The Devil's Blessing has strengthened the citizens of Southmarsh, and because of its
addictive qualities, they won't turn against me. I've got agents in and outside the
council. All that's left is to light the spark that will set this powder keg off."
"A spark?"
"That would be you, Al… Hey, bring him in."
At Bighawk's command, a shadowy bodyguard, still cloaked despite being indoors, left
the room. After a minute, he returned, carrying a boy bound with rope.
"Ademi!" Al shouted.
Hearing the other kid's voice, Ademi looked up. When he saw it was Al, his head
drooped.
"I'm sorry… I never meant for it to be like this."
"Ademi…"
"I just… I just wanted to be a brave guard like my dad… I never knew things would
wind up this way…"
Bighawk and Ademi had both admired their fathers and had similarly suffered over
their dissatisfaction with their blessings. Unlike Ademi, however, there was no trace
of compassion in Bighawk's expression. There was only ecstasy at the impending
realization of his dream.
That evening, Al was brought to a door leading out to the balcony of the estate. All of
the green adhesive from the bomb had been washed away, and he had been made to
change into new clothes. What's more, he'd also been equipped with a resplendent
silver breastplate.
Ademi was next to him, still bound. He was wearing the same dirty, ragged clothes he'd
likely been in for days.
"There won't be anything dangerous. All you have to do is just follow what your
blessing commands," Bighawk said with a profound smile.
The half-orc opened the doors to the balcony, and a thundering cheer filled the air.
"Wh…?!" Al shouted.
Gathered below was a crowd of people so large they could not all fit in Bighawk's
enormous yard.
They were almost all residents of Southmarsh with tattered clothes and dirty faces.
Their eyes, however, were sparkling in excitement as Bighawk raised his hands, and
they let fly cheers of his name in response.
"Why…?"
As far as Al knew, Bighawk was the boss of Southmarsh, but he was not some beloved
figure. Southmarsh was home to many immigrants, no small sum of which harbored
racist feelings toward half-orcs. In the past, Al had heard a few people refer to Bighawk
as "that damn pig."
"All it takes is the smallest opportunity to change public opinion." Bighawk laughed,
his ample belly jiggling as he rested his thick fingers on top of it. "These people used
to hate me for what I did to them, and now I stand here basking in their cheers. All it
took was gathering up their complaints against the council and becoming the
spokesman for their protest. The people want a hero."
Bighawk waved his log-like arms, an act that only elicited further cheering.
"Mr. Bighaaaaawk!" they cried.
What are you doing? He's a bad guy! He's caused you all so much pain! Don't fall for his
tricks so easily! Al screamed in his mind.
Bighawk, feared for the countless cruel legends he'd inspired, was cheerfully waving
to a mass of people who were singing his praises.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Just yesterday, I went to the Zoltan council and the guard
station to protest."
The cheers ebbed as Bighawk began to address the people. Those still shouting were
promptly shushed by those next to them. Everyone eagerly awaited what Bighawk was
going to say next.
"My goal was, of course, to address the situation regarding the craven criminal who
attacked young Al's family." The man motioned to Al.
An angry roar bellowed up from the crowd, but a raised hand from Bighawk swiftly
quieted the hisses and jeers. The hostility for lawmen was almost palpable.
"I asked them why their guards couldn't find a single boy, and you know what they
said? They said it was because you all were too disruptive."
Another outraged swell erupted.
"It goes without saying that this is just mere sophistry! The reason we spoke out is
that justice was not being done! So tell me, in what world could the rightful carriage
of justice be hindered by legitimate demands like ours?"
""Right! Yeah!"" Supporting cries came from every which way.
"That leaves just one possible explanation! The truth is that this miscarriage of justice
is what the lawmen wanted all along. The criminal who attacked young Al's family was
none other than the captain of the guard's son, Ademi! Those monsters have chosen
their friend's child over our pain! Over what is right and fair! Does that make you mad?
Does that upset you? But that's just how Zoltan is! We are outsiders here! No matter
how many of us might die, the council and the guards and the rest of Zoltan won't shed
a single tear! Best they'll do is tell someone to pick up the trash!"
An incensed bellowing swirled all around, now more intense than ever. Bighawk
looked down in satisfaction as the throngs of people continued to work themselves
up.
"But you people of Southmarsh are prudent and wise. You've been persecuted by the
wealthy and left to fight your brothers for the most meager of scraps. All this time,
you've been left to wonder if the lawmen are pulling the strings, or if indeed there is
any proof of what has happened! Well, my brothers and sisters, you will have that
proof!"
From behind Al and Bighawk, a bodyguard concealed beneath a cloak led Ademi and
the two guards who had betrayed Al out; all three had been tied up.
"Heh-heh…"
The two guards were looking down at the floor, but there were smirks on their faces.
"These two fine people once served under the wicked council but have since learned
the wrongness of their actions!"
The two men moved forward. As they bowed their heads low, the pair began to
address the crowd.
"We would like to turn ourselves in! We were the ones hiding Ademi! It was all in order
to cover up this whole mess. The plan was to write off Al's and his family's testimony,
to brush off the people of Southmarsh's claims—your claims—as lies!"
There was a momentary silence before the ocean of people below exploded in rage.
"Silence! Silence, everyone!" Bighawk called until finally, things settled back down.
Dammit! Al wanted to scream that it was a complete lie. The guards hadn't put on a
very convincing performance at all. Their entire confession had sounded incredibly
forced. It should have been obvious to anyone giving it even a second thought that they
were lying.
"It is a simple thing to get a man to believe a lie that he wants to believe," Bighawk
whispered in Al's ear. The half-orc's powerful fingers snaked their way around Al's
neck, a warning that Bighawk could easily snap it at any time. Such a threat was more
than enough to silence the frightened Al.
The guards continued their cheap farce for the crowd, and everyone responded exactly
as Bighawk wanted. Their performance laid the blame for everything at the feet of the
council and the guards. Everything from Southmarsh's poverty to Zoltan's frequent
storms was blamed on those who made the laws and enforced them. When the
performance of lies finally drew to a close, Bighawk took over again.
"Here is your proof. Is there anyone left who still doubts it? Is there anyone who still
believes that the council and guards stand on the side of justice? Is there anyone who
would doubt me?"
""Mr. Bighaaaaawk! Our one and true boss!"" came the emphatic cheers.
"Very well! With this, we are all of us united now. So then the question becomes what
to do about the problem? How do we change this unjust system? We should cast aside
our patience and magnanimity! The time for that has passed!"
Ademi was forced to his knees.
"I can tell you here and now, this isn't just some shady Thieves Guild plot. Oh, no! This
is justice being served! This is a revolution!"
Bighawk passed a shotel to Al.
"If the guards won't see justice done, then we shall carry it out ourselves! And if the
council would prosecute us, then we have no need for the council anymore!"
Ademi's eyes were filled with terror as he looked up at Bighawk and then to Al.
"Claim the retribution that is rightly yours, Al! Bring down the blade of judgment on
the criminal who attacked your parents! Cast the villain's head into the flames of
revolution that we might establish a new Zoltan in this land!"
"W-wait, you're telling me to kill Ademi?!" Al asked, terrified and dumbfounded.
"Indeed. Whatever the events that may have led up to it, it is the plain truth that this
child attacked your parents. You saw it yourself that night."
"B-but! You were the one who set him up to do that!"
"Not at all. It's true that I gave him the drug and the ax. I suppose I might have kept
him safe after he'd run off, too, but that's all. Ademi gave in to the Devil's Blessing urges
and attacked your parents in a murderous fit. He was the one who wanted you to suffer
and die."
Ademi, who had been desperately looking to Al to save him, now brought his gaze to
the floor, ashamed.
"Even before I ever got involved, he'd tormented you. You know better than anyone
how many times he's beaten you up, right?"
"…That's true, but…"
"What's more, because of the Devil's Blessing, Ademi has two blessings… If you cut
him down, it will only increase your level all the more."
Thud. There was a throb from Al's blessing, telling him that there was an enemy before
him.
That night, Ademi was trying to kill me with that ax. He's the one who wanted to
eliminate me, so he can't complain if he winds up dead for it. He's my enemy. There's no
need to hesitate to kill an enemy.
Al's own thoughts swirled, blending with his blessing's call to battle.
Either way, someone is going to be ending Ademi here, even if I don't do it, right? I've got
the best reason to do it, so it might as well be me.
Al drew his shotel, the pain from the night of Ademi's attack now fresh in his memory.
Hatred burned in his mind. The shame of the tears he had shed seared his soul.
At that moment, however, Al caught sight of his own face reflected in the blade of the
shotel.
"Ah…" Al saw a terrified look on his own face. Suddenly, the urges egging him on were
gone.
"I've made my choice."
Raising his blade over his head, Al brought the weapon down. Bighawk broke into a
grin. The ropes around Ademi gently slid to the floor. Shocked and relieved, Ademi
looked up.
"Al…"
Bighawk's smile quickly faded, and he turned to look at Al.
"Something wrong with your grip? Or are you still hesitating?" he asked, his voice a
cool monotone.
"Neither. My sword did not desire to harm Ademi. I will only wield my blade against
the things that I want to."
"…I'm only going to ask one more time. Do you have no intention of reconsidering?"
"My shotel is for fighting my enemies, and Ademi isn't one of them. I'm a weapon
master! I might be able to fool others, but I can't fool my sword," Al declared.
"I see. On to the next plan, then."
Bighawk raised his left hand, and the small man with the Alchemist blessing took an
ax out of the item box at his hip.
"Ah, urgh…" Immediately, Ademi began to tremble at the sight of the thing.
"Ademi!" Al called.
"Don't waste your breath. Let me tell you a little bit about Devil's Blessing. By taking
the drug, it transfers levels from your innate blessing to the new one. The more levels
ceded, the weaker the impulses of your innate blessing become. That's why the users
experience such an intense feeling of liberation. When the level of the Devil's Blessing
surpasses that of a user's innate one, however, it becomes incredibly addictive. That's
right about when the symptoms of overdosing start showing up," Bighawk explained.
"Ademi, get ahold of yourself!" Al cried.
"It's particularly bad when someone has transferred all of their innate blessing's
levels. The influence of the ax demon that was the basis of the medicine starts to
appear. Just seeing an ax is enough for someone in that state to succumb to murderous
urges. Stuff like that is behind all the recent attacks. It's a pretty convenient effect for
my purposes, though."
Ademi pushed Al away.
Bighawk's admissions had been spoken too quietly to be heard by the masses below,
but it was plain to everyone that something unexpected was occurring up on the
balcony. Murmurs began to snake through the crowd.
"Al, you were a true hero. Even though he attempted to kill your family, you still chose
the path of dialogue and reconciliation. However, Ademi—that small, pathetic child—
sullied your noble efforts and cruelly responded by taking up an ax. Truly reprehensible
and unforgivable. Al demonstrated with his life the futility of reconciliation with those
craven beasts."
Bighawk shrugged in jest, then lowered his voice again.
"That's the gist of the script I had. How's it sound to you? If you've got any requests for
points I should emphasize, I'll gladly take them into consideration… You should
probably speak up quickly, though, before Ademi kills you."
Ademi leaped after the ax the alchemist was holding. Despair filled Al's heart, but he
readied his sword to defend himself nonetheless.
"What?!"
Before Ademi's hand could reach the ax, however, it was split in two, and the alchemist
collapsed to the ground, bleeding from a wound to his shoulder.
"What was it, 'I'm sure Rit thought she was getting the drop on us, and letting her think
that was the case was the safest choice for us'? You said it yourself, didn't you? Making
the opponent think they have the upper hand is the safest way."
The cloaked bodyguard who had carried Al around throughout all of this was now
holding a bronze sword that'd split the steel ax in half and cut the alchemist down.
"Grab on, Al; we're jumping!" the cloaked man shouted as he grabbed Ademi.
Al clung to his neck.
"Wh-what?! Have you gone mad, Waverly?!"
Bighawk watched as the one he'd believed to be the bodyguard named Waverly
grinned back at the half-orc from beneath the hood of a cloak. While he carried the
two boys, the figure then leaped off the third-floor balcony.
There were many different ways to change your appearance, from magical tools like
cloaks of disguise to spells like Illusion or Transformation. It was just common sense
to be on guard for traces of magic like that. Naturally, Bighawk had spared no expense
when it came to sniffing out imposters, carefully deploying Detect to catch intruders.
"But there's a blind spot there."
Disguise was a common skill that utilized clothes, makeup, and impersonation. There
weren't many people who thought much of Disguise, since it focused on nonmagical
methods of transformation. Most thought only a fool spent skill points on something
that could be solved using magic. It was for that exact reason that I knew my facade
would never be exposed.
That was why I left the investigation to Rit and followed the person I was going to
conceal myself as, observing his movements and mannerisms. That was also why we
left Al at the guard station, in order to find any guards who tried to get close to him.
Sure enough, the two who did were secretly working with Bighawk. Thankfully, they'd
discussed their plan in such detail while I was there in costume that I knew exactly
how best to get Al and Ademi out safely.
"M-Mr. Red, right?! Maybe?! How are we going to land?!" Al exclaimed.
"Acrobatics Mastery: Slow Fall."
While descending, I kicked against the wall here and there to reduce our momentum.
So long as there was a perch in arm's reach, Slow Fall allowed the user to utilize that
object to decrease their speed while dropping. Fly was strictly better, if you had access
to it, of course. I never heard the end of it from Ares when I'd taken Slow Fall, but it
proved to be invaluable to me because I was always scouting out ahead on my own.
I landed safely on the ground and gave Bighawk a little wave as he leaned out over the
balcony and looked down, still unable to grasp what was happening. With Al and
Ademi in tow, I made my escape. From behind, I could hear Bighawk's enraged shouts
as he realized what had happened. He was too far away to do anything about it at that
point, however.
"Ademi, drink this."
I handed a vial of medicine to Ademi as he stared blankly.
"It's a little bitter," I cautioned.
Ademi raised the vial like he was told. All of a sudden, his eyes widened as he groaned.
"Disgusting!" he shouted.
"Sorry, this stuff requires precise preparation, so I couldn't add anything to fix the
flavor."
"Ugh… hmm? I kinda feel better…"
"It temporarily lowers your level. In a sense, it's a sort of poison. It's medicine the wild
elves made to temporarily suppress the urges of blessings. I'm relieved that it worked
on the Devil's Blessing, too."
"A wild elf medicine?! Where'd you learn that?!"
Al and Ademi both looked shocked.
"Since it inhibits your blessing, the holy church will get mad if they find out, so let's
keep this our little secret," I said as I put my finger to my lips.
The two of them nodded vigorously in agreement. That traces of excitement crept into
their expressions at the prospect of being in on a secret, despite the situation they
were in, was a testament to the kind of fortitude children could demonstrate at times.
"All right, according to Rit, he should be around here…"
Rit's investigation had been running full steam for the past few days. Supposedly, she'd
found an excellent collaborator. Her ally had apparently discovered that Bighawk was
holding Ademi, that he might be planning to use Al and Ademi for something, and even
what his ultimate goal was.
Whoever Rit's informant was, he had to have been pretty skillful to uncover all that.
Rit had mentioned him being an adventurer who showed up in Zoltan pretty recently.
"He's supposed to have a red-sheathed sword."
Because almost all of Southmarsh was gathered at Bighawk's mansion, the surrounding
streets were rather quiet. The only thing to be heard was a baby crying from a far-off
house, probably having been left behind for the gathering.
"If he's waiting here, he must be a pretty capable Invisibility user."
I couldn't sense any presence at all. Fully alert, I looked around. When my gaze fell
upon a shack to my right, a figure appeared from the shadows. It was a young man
with a dark complexion and a friendly sort of disposition. A longsword of a foreign
make rested in a red sheath that had been fastened to his waist.
"Are you Red?"
"If you're asking that, I guess that makes you the one that Rit mentioned. If I recall, she
said your name was Bui?"
The young man flashed a cheerful smile, but I could sense a sharpness to him. Despite
outward niceties, I could tell that letting my guard down around him was a bad idea.
"Yes, my name is Bui. I've transformed some spirits to look like Al and Ademi and
spread them around the neighboring streets, so that should hopefully buy a little
time."
"Good thinking. Here's hoping everything else goes as planned."
"What are you talking about?" Al looked nervous, unable to follow our conversation at
all.
"We have a plan to beat Bighawk," I clarified.
Al's eyes went wide in shock.
"Sorry for keeping you out of the loop like that. This is something that really needs to
be discussed in depth with the two of you."
Al and Ademi had a vital role to play in this. Truthfully, it wasn't an exaggeration to say
that they were the ones who were going to take down the crime boss.
"Red," Bui suddenly cut in.
"I sensed it, too," I replied. "Eleven of them, huh?"
Eleven creatures were approaching us. Nine of them had some respectable levels in
Stealth. Doubtless, they were stalker demons, like the ones Rit had encountered.
"I'll take half of them," Bui said as he drew his sword.
He slipped into a stance with the sword in his left hand, his hips lowered, and his
empty right hand thrust out in front of him. While I'd never seen such a posture before,
it looked to be a trained technique rather than a simple reliance on skills. He seemed
capable enough, however…
"I'll take care of this. You should take the two of them to the planned spot," I declared.
"I don't mind, but will you be okay? We still don't know their full strength yet," Bui
replied.
"All I have to do is make sure they don't get past me. That won't be a problem."
"…That's true enough. Very well, I'll take responsibility for delivering the two of them."
"Thanks."
Nervous, Al looked up at me. "Mr. Red?"
"Bui here will explain what you need to do," I answered.
"W-will you be okay? Aren't there enemies on the way?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. I promise. We're going to win this for sure. Now hurry up and go."
I glanced at Bui, and he took the two of them by the hand.
"M-Mr. Red! Please train with me again sometime!" Al called.
"Sure thing, it's a promise."
With that, Bui led Al and Ademi away. Even so, the approaching foes did not waver, still
moving after only myself.
"It's really him…"
The one at the forefront of the approaching assailants was wearing asymmetrical,
ornamental armor. It caused his left side to be slightly heavier than his right, which in
turn meant his footfalls were the tiniest bit unbalanced. It was a rhythm that I knew
well.
"Hey, Albert."
"Show some respect, D rank."
Albert had a rounded executioner's blade drawn as he fixed me with a piercing stare.