Chapter 99: The Second Son of the Impoverished Viscount Household Searches for Eyes 21
The Magicka riding on my sword tip was terrifyingly heavy and dense. My own Physical Enhancement was crushing my internal organs, and my clenched teeth ground together.
It probably lasted no longer than the blink of an eye.
I think I considered various things, but in the end, all that remained was the idiotic thought that if I ran away here, I wouldn’t be a man.
A roar escaped from between my clenched molars.
I recalled someone once saying that people shout when they desire something.
People cry out for help, for hope, for the things they desperately long for. I truly felt that now.
No matter how much Healing Magic I used, the excruciating pain of my organs being relentlessly crushed by my own body turned my thoughts blank.
Even so.
I found myself naturally shouting Erica’s name.
My clenched mouth couldn’t pronounce it properly; it was a terribly awkward sound, but…
I was definitely shouting Erica’s name.
“E-Eeeeeriiiiiiicaaaaaaaa!”
“Did you call?”
The Dragon Breath I’d deflected upwards scorched the air.
I berated my body, which was about to collapse to its knees.
And then, I thought.
Eh? Who?
Having deflected the Breath upwards, I instinctively lowered the intensity of my Physical Enhancement out of a sense of crisis, desperately enduring the urge to collapse.
It wasn’t because of my body.
My Physical Enhancement was still going strong—though much gentler than before, it was still trying its best to mince my organs—and even now, if I put just a little strength into my legs, I’d probably go flying off somewhere.
My mind wasn’t working.
It was really quite simple: my brain just wouldn’t function.
Just the act of standing, maintaining only that, filled my head completely, and my control over Physical Enhancement was terribly sloppy.
That’s why, even seeing the Dragon, whose Breath had been deflected, roar in anger and prepare to charge at me, I couldn’t think of anything.
I thought I had to do something, but the thought led nowhere.
If I had to say, the only thing that came to mind was wishing Erica were here.
Ah, this is bad.
I’m going to die at this rate.
Even that didn’t connect to any action.
That must be why, when asked “Did you call?” in a familiar voice, I thought, Who?
Distinctive silver hair, cut evenly at the shoulders, except for one lock grown down to the waist, intricately yet messily braided.
A back I knew well, a voice I knew well.
And yet, the reason my mind stubbornly refused to recall who it was must have been because I didn’t want to accept the reality that that someone was there.
“‘I didn’t call. Absolutely didn’t call.'”
Just as I felt my Physically Enhanced body mutter that on its own, I lost consciousness.
When I woke up, I simply prayed.
Please let it have been a dream.
Where was I? What happened after that? I didn’t even feel like confirming.
I just prayed and prayed to the gods, only that it had all been a dream.
It’s true I’m not exactly a devout believer. While I’ve never doubted the existence of the gods, it’s also a fact that I’ve never felt the need to pray to them.
I couldn’t imagine the gods would listen to a man like me praying now, of all times, but still, I prayed desperately for my prayer to reach them.
I slowly opened my tightly shut eyelids.
This would be Hecate’s house, and when I woke up, I would say ‘Good morning’ to Erica.
“‘You’re awake.'”
A terribly flat voice informed me that my prayers had not been answered.
Covering my face with both hands, I couldn’t help but mutter.
“‘Of course.'”
An adventurer’s prayers exist only to be broken.
I recalled the words left behind by some cynical adventurer.
Let’s summarize briefly.
Only about three hours have passed since I fainted.
I’m sleeping in an inn in Noel Jeun.
The Blackened Jewelhead Dragon escaped.
According to the adventurer who drove off the Jewelhead Dragon, they only chased it away because I had fainted, and there were many adventurers nearby who would have been problematic if caught up in the fight.
In other words, this was what the silver-haired Female Disciple in front of me recounted.
Yes, from the same school as me, yet despite joining after me, she holds a higher Rank—Elza “the Impaler” Arsenal.
I wondered why she was here, but more problematic was the question: Is Elza alone?
Surely Master isn’t in Noel Jeun too, is he?
Just confirming that question inspired intense fear.
As I gathered my Guts to voice that question, a different question suddenly slipped out regarding the scene before my eyes.
“‘What are you doing?'”
“‘Drawing a picture.'”
My Female Disciple, Elza, answered me flatly.
I see. Normally, one might think she was just bored after casting Healing Magic, waiting for me to wake up, but…
The story changes when the object at the tip of Elza’s brush, as she sits drawing in her chair, is a familiar white Mask.
“‘Hey, you can’t just draw on other people’s things without permission.'”
“‘It’s fine. It belongs to my Senior Disciple.'”
“‘Are you trying to pick a fight?'”
Hearing my words, Elza put down her brush, tilted her head slightly, and looked at me.
An incredibly intricate picture of a Flower was drawn on the Mask’s cheek.
“‘I don’t fight with Senior Disciple. Senior Disciple is someone who is allowed to kill Elza.'”
I felt like clutching my head, realizing the unspoken implication wasn’t a question like, ‘Are you going to kill me?’ but a confirmation: ‘Will you kill me?’
As usual, her head is just too… much.
Elza’s world is simple. It’s made up of three things: Others, Enemies, and People Allowed to Kill Her.
One might doubt her sanity, but the person known as Elza lives quite sanely within such a world.
If there were some tragic upbringing, family tragedy, or long-held ambition that forced her to become this way, well, one might understand it as just how things are, but…
In Elza’s case, she grew up perfectly normally and ended up like this.
She’s naturally born that way.
Realizing I was actually clutching my head with one hand, I answered Elza’s unspoken question by waving my free hand side to side.
In response, Elza said nothing and resumed moving her brush.
I wondered what more she intended to draw, but decided to let her do as she pleased.
“‘So? Why are you in this town?'”
I asked while sitting up in bed.
Master isn’t with you, is he?
Just as I was about to continue with those words, Elza stopped her brush again, stood up from her chair, and thrust the Mask at me.
“‘Be careful, it’s not dry yet.'”
Saying that, she pressed the Mask into my hand and then turned her gaze warily towards the door.
I was taken aback for a moment, but then I noticed the approaching footsteps and understood her intention.
As I put on the Mask, I thought.
Her personality is… well, like that, but she can still show this kind of consideration.
I thought this as I called out to let whoever was knocking at the door know I was awake.