As the horned wolves turned to ash, Uta waited patiently. Before long, the unconscious woman stirred.
"Ugh... Where am I?"
"Oh, you're awake," Uta said casually.
Startled, the woman shot to her feet, putting distance between herself and Uta.
"You! Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sharp as she instinctively reached for her waist—only to find it empty.
Her eyes darted around, searching for a weapon. Uta hadn't taken anything from her; she simply hadn't had a weapon to begin with.
"My sword... What did you do to me!?"
"Uh, that's... a bit hard to explain," Uta replied with a sheepish grin.
He couldn't very well admit that while treating her injuries, he had indulged in a bit of curiosity by touching her chest.
Still, he didn't regret it. After all, it had been quite soft.
"I just treated your wounds. No need to glare at me like that."
"...Treated my wounds?"
The woman hesitated, her hands instinctively running over her body.
Her fingers probed areas where deep wounds had once been, now replaced by smooth, unblemished skin. Her eyes widened in astonishment.
"It's true... I was certain I'd been gravely injured, but now..."
Realizing her situation, she straightened her posture and bowed deeply to Uta.
"Forgive me for my earlier behavior. I didn't know you were my savior."
"It's fine. No big deal," Uta said with a shrug. "But... what happened to you?"
"My name is Mary," she began. "I serve as a knight under the noble House of Luchal."
"Nice to meet you, Mary. I'm Uta," he replied, introducing himself.
"I was escorting my liege, Lady Ilia, along this road when we were ambushed by bandits. There were other knights as well, but they all fell to the bandits' blades. I fled to seek help but succumbed to my injuries along the way..."
"That's rough," Uta remarked sympathetically.
"Lady Ilia is now in their hands, and I can only imagine her terror. What a failure I've been!" Mary cried, stomping her foot in frustration.
As if on cue, a rustling sound came from the nearby bushes.
Before Mary could react, a horned wolf burst out, its jaws snapping as it lunged at her.
"Look out!"
Uta reached out, placing a hand on the wolf's horn just as it was about to sink its teeth into Mary.
Instantly, the beast disintegrated into ash, leaving nothing but a fine dust that scattered in the wind.
"What... what was that power?" Mary stammered, her voice trembling.
"Surprised? It's... well, let's call it my magic," Uta said, brushing his hands together as if scattering the remnants of the wolf.
"I can reduce any living thing to ash. Cool, right?"
"An instant death spell? Or perhaps a variation of petrification magic? But more importantly—"
"Hmm?"
"Sir, you're an exceptional mage! With your power, you could help save Lady Ilia! Please, I beg of you—lend me your strength!"
"Sure."
"I understand it's a dangerous task, but with your—wait, what?"
"I said, sure. Why not?"
Uta's casual response left Mary momentarily stunned.
"Thank you... Thank you! I owe you my life and more!"
"No need to be so formal. So, where are the bandits?"
"They attacked about a kilometer east of here, but..."
"Got it. Let's go."
"Wha—?"
Before she could fully process his words, Uta grabbed her hand, and the world around them shifted.
They reappeared in a clearing, the scene of a bloody skirmish.
"Wow, lots of dead bodies," Uta observed nonchalantly.
"...Everyone..." Mary's voice cracked as her eyes fell upon the carnage.
A broken carriage lay amidst the corpses of men and women alike, their bodies riddled with wounds from swords and arrows.
The air reeked of blood, fresh and cloying.
"Jean... Tony... Henry..." Mary whispered, recognizing the faces of her fallen comrades.
Her sorrow was palpable, etched across her face as tears welled in her eyes.
"Hmm... I don't see any sign of the bandits. Guess they moved on," Uta mused.
He paused, sniffing the air. "Oh, wait. I can follow their trail—smells like blood."
"Follow the scent? Like a dog?"
"Pretty much!" Uta grinned and began walking toward the forest on the far side of the road.
"You can't be serious..." Mary muttered, incredulous.
"It's not exactly the scent of blood," Uta explained. "It's more like... the stench of death. Trust me on this one."
As an eldritch being, Uta was attuned to the lingering aura of death and despair. The bandits carried an overwhelming burden of both, leaving a trail he could follow with ease.
"Shall we?" Uta gestured toward the forest.
Mary hesitated, doubt and hope warring on her face. With no better leads, she nodded and followed him into the woods.