Chapter 243 - Because She Yearned to Live

Martai had a coniferous forest to the north, plains and Border Guard to the west, the lands of an eastern kingdom to the east, and another sizable forest to the south. That last one was called Grateful Forest. “Why is it called Grateful Forest, anyway?” Torres was trying to familiarize himself with the terrain around the territory where he had newly settled. A soldier formerly of the forest patrol—in other words, a ranger—walked beside him and answered. Five Border Guard members followed behind them. “Because they were grateful.” 'Is this bastard making fun of me?' Before Torres could scowl, the soldier continued. “Have you been to the coniferous forest up north? It's no place for people. Even rangers won't go in there. Do you know what they call it? Cliff Forest.” Torres had heard of it. It was famous. The coniferous forest north of Martai was a boundary dividing the continent. Why call it a cliff? Because going inside was no different from falling to your death. “But down here in the south, there's a forest full of fruit and game. The people who've lived around here since long ago were so grateful for it that the name stuck.” Grateful Forest. Was that an imaginative name or not? Without dwelling on it, Torres continued his patrol, learning the terrain. That was when it happened. SKREEEEE!

An ear-splitting shriek rang out, nothing like a horse's whinny. Its malice and murderous intent made his skin crawl. It was the cry of a demonic beast. “What's that?” Torres spotted a horse at the edge of Grateful Forest. Of course, it wasn't an ordinary horse. What horse had fangs long enough to jut out like that? “Looks like a demonic beast?”

“Looks like?” Horses were herbivores, and herbivores seldom became demonic beasts. Not that it never happened. Torres furrowed his brow, then relaxed it and gestured. Was there only one? Or were there more behind it? Had it not spotted them yet? That was possible. “A horse demonic beast. Now that's unusual,” said the former ranger. “Are there any forest patrolmen in there?” Martai had stationed ranger units throughout the surrounding forests. Forest patrolmen were scouts who operated in the woods. This continent was constantly threatened by demonic beasts and monsters. Regular patrols were only natural. “There are.” The soldier continued. He had a habit of speaking in installments instead of getting everything out at once. “It's not that monsters and demonic beasts have never appeared in Grateful Forest, but sightings around this part are normally so rare that you could call it a safe zone.” Perhaps his mouth had gone dry from talking; the soldier swallowed before speaking again. “They take turns going in, one squad at a time.”

“Even now?”

“Yes, even now.” Several more monsters appeared behind the horse demonic beast. Human-faced hounds. Shreds of flesh and hide, stained red with blood, showed between their jaws. “Everyone, on guard.” Torres's judgment was sound and swift. What had happened to the ranger unit inside the forest? Had they been wiped out? At the very least, they must have been attacked and put out of action. He withdrew. Had so few creatures taken them down? Or had they been ambushed? Whatever the case, there had to be a reason. The horse demonic beast and human-faced hounds—a group of more than ten beasts—did not attack. Torres found that puzzling too. “Do the demonic beasts here usually just lick their chops when they see people?”

“Huh?” Torres couldn't wait to see Zimmer's ugly mug again, after he'd saddled him with this idiot of a soldier. Could the man never understand anything the first time? “N-no. They don't. There weren't any problems even on the last patrol. We didn't find any signs of a group like that, either.” That was strange. The rangers operating in Grateful Forest hadn't found a trace, yet a dozen or so demonic beasts had suddenly appeared together? And what were horse demonic beasts and human-faced hounds doing together, anyway? Something was odd. Several of the watching monsters began creeping closer. Torres didn't wait. He went to meet them. “Kill them all.” KRAAAH!

Several human-faced hounds lunged at them. The horse demonic beast backed away. It wasn't a difficult fight. Torres and his party killed three or four human-faced hounds. The horse demonic beast watched for a while, then fled back into the forest. Torres judged it far too dangerous to go inside, so they stopped there. He gave his bloody sword a cursory wipe on a human-faced hound's hide and spoke.

“We need to report this.” Torres returned and reported to the former border defense captain, now the lord of Martai. Suspecting more demonic beasts, the lord sent a commission to Border Guard. Hiring them had several advantages, so he hadn't bothered dealing with it internally. Besides, the Border Guard had plenty to do apart from killing demonic beasts. Order within the territory wasn't fully established yet. Rumor also had it that the man called the Mercenary King of the East resented Martai's complete handover to Naurilia. Several soldiers of eastern origin had in fact deserted during the night. “It would be best to simply let them go.” That had been Zimmer's advice. Even if they kept them here, they were easterners. They would only become blades turned against their own side. Tenacious, tough, and extraordinarily stubborn. That was how an explorer of old had described the eastern nomads. After that, Torres focused on other matters. People from Border Guard would deal with the monsters in Grateful Forest to the south. The lord of Martai and Battalion Commander Marcus of Border Guard probably wanted exchanges between the two territories to develop naturally. That must have been another aim behind this redistribution of work. Torres spent the next two days racking his brains with Zimmer over forming a territorial constabulary. In the meantime, he also received a report on Grateful Forest from a ranger newly assigned to patrol it. “There doesn't appear to be a large-scale colony forming.” That was a relief.

'But why was the ranger squad wiped out? More deserters?'

Desertion. It was possible.

* * *

Several days later, a contingent of soldiers arrived from Border Guard to carry out the commission. There weren't even ten of them. One face was familiar: the golden-eyed Beastman from Encrid's company, formerly of the Black Blade Bandits. Martai's own troops could have exterminated the creatures, but this was the first step toward cooperation between the two territories. “We're counting on you.”

Torres addressed the arrivals, and they nodded. The soldier who habitually spoke in installments served as their guide once again. The party followed him out on the commission, led by the Beastman woman. 'Use Border Guard soldiers instead of hiring mercenaries.' Demonic beasts ran rampant in winter. If they kept dealing with the increasingly troublesome beasts and monsters, the two territories would naturally come to function as though under a single command. By spring, Martai would have the strength to hold its own even if the Mercenary King tried to bully it. Torres wasn't worried. Border Guard's soldiers were first-rate. Mere horse demonic beasts or human-faced hounds wouldn't bring them down. Especially with that Beastman along. Naturally, nothing should have gone wrong.

* * *

[“Well, look at that. Where'd you learn that?”] Rem asked, and Dunbachel answered: she'd picked it up by watching the people beside her during her mercenary days. Back home, no one had taught her anything. Her cursed transformation coupled with her golden eyes had been enough to make everyone shun her. She tied her long white hair back and twitched her catlike nose. Rem gave a hearty grin and raised his fist.

[“Begin.”] Begin what? The violence. The beating. A day that began with a beating ended with one. No, it had ended that way. Was this a memory, or torment born of mental trauma? A shiver ran through Dunbachel as she walked, and she rubbed her arms, almost hugging herself. “Cold?”

“No.” A soldier behind her had asked, but she shook her head. Cold wasn't much of an issue for Beastmen. Their body temperature was higher than humans', and they maintained a constant temperature. They were particularly more susceptible to heat than cold. In other words, they were resistant to cold, thanks to their thicker, more abundant body hair. The soldier said nothing more after that question. As she headed toward the reported demonic-beast sightings, Dunbachel sank into thought. More precisely, she reflected on Rem's teaching methods. Had they helped? She wanted to say no, but she couldn't. [“Are you sure this counts as teaching?”]

[“Well, aren't you a fucking idiot of a Beastman. What do you think I'm doing?”]

[“Punching. Kicking.”] The ignorant barbarian smiled broadly at her honest answer.

[“How have you survived this long? Being that clueless.”] She got beaten again. After about two days of it, she began to think she would die at this rate. She had fought tooth and nail to worm her way under Encrid's command to survive. Dunbachel yearned to live. She had never known such a burning desire existed within her. 'What do I have to do to survive?' Her body reacted before her mind. After countless beatings, her body grasped the answer first. Dunbachel stole Rem's movements, learning by watching him. [“Now we're finally getting somewhere.”]

It was the right answer.

[“Steal what you can on your own. That's what you'll have to do if you don't want to die.”] Anyone who had seen that barbarian's eyes then would have felt their bladder quiver. Dunbachel certainly had. With a strange expression, as though something had him both excited and irritated, Rem beat her again. What did she have to do to survive? Watch and steal his skills. So she did. It took a week to forget what she'd learned as a mercenary, then another week to steal his moves and make them her own. [“There's something I want to know.”] Around then, Dunbachel had spoken up first. Whatever Rem might say, she wanted an answer, so she asked. [“You seem to teach the Independent Company Commander kindly enough?”] Had that somehow touched a nerve? Dunbachel hadn't known. In short, this was a terrible misunderstanding. She had only had a question. She had merely been curious. [“Fuuuuuck?”] That was the beginning. Without answering, Rem picked up his axe. Dunbachel had to draw her scimitar too. CLANG! She was lucky she hadn't died in a single blow. [“That man!”] Rem had spoken as they fought. How could he talk so well while moving like that? Dunbachel barely had time to catch her breath, but his mouth never stopped even as he moved. [“No matter how simply I explain it!”]

[“No matter how many times I demonstrate, he doesn't improve!”]

[“He doesn't improve.”] He'd said the last part pressed close enough for her to feel his breath. Surprisingly, his breath hadn't stunk. Not even to a Beastman's keen nose. [“And you've got a problem with that? Then put yourself through what the Captain does every day.”] It had been a misunderstanding from the start. She'd asked out of curiosity, not dissatisfaction. The ignorant barbarian hadn't seemed interested in hearing any answer. He'd simply kept hammering away, as though he'd found himself an excuse. A soldier's voice interrupted her recollections.

“We're here. That's Grateful Forest, and the reason it's called Grateful Forest is...” Leaving the soldier to ramble, Dunbachel stepped forward. Her left eyebrow twitched involuntarily. The raised brow trembled, and her Beastman instincts sounded a warning. “Didn't you say a horse demonic beast and a dozen or so human-faced hounds?” Dunbachel asked. “So they named the forest to show their gratitude—huh? Yes.”

Interrupted, the guide tilted his head. “Everyone, prepare for combat.” Dunbachel spoke, her golden eyes fixed on the depths of the forest. Her vision could pierce darkness, too. Battlefield experience combined with a Beastman's instincts had given her an intuitive sense. She sensed danger. Dragonfolk, Giants, Frogs, Beastmen, Fairies, dwarves. Among them, Giants were foremost in strength, and Fairies in sensitivity. Frogs possessed eyes that could discern talent, along with one exceptional ability apiece. Beastmen were said to have superior physiques. [“You idiot. You're not even using half of what your body's capable of.”] She'd learned by watching human mercenaries wield their swords. She'd moved that way because she thought it was right. Ignorant barbarian though he was, his teachings hadn't been wasted. [“Fight without limiting what your body can do.”] Rather than practice an established sword style with attacks launched from fixed stances, she should trust her body's capabilities and fight like something gone berserk. That was what Rem meant. Even if she didn't go berserk, moving that way while retaining control of herself had been the right answer. Since Rem had driven her so hard, even Dunbachel could tell that her skills had improved dramatically. It was time to test those skills. GRRRRR. One horse demonic beast and a pack of human-faced hounds? Not even close. She could see how many creatures were creeping out from one side of the forest. There were more than twenty horse demonic beasts alone, and too many human-faced hounds to bother counting. Far more than several dozen red eyes gleamed within the woods. “You. Go get reinforcements,” Dunbachel told the soldier who had guided them. “Huh?” Did this bastard never understand anything the first time? SMACK!

Dunbachel didn't hesitate. She cuffed the back of his head. “Urgh!” The guide, bent over from the blow, lifted his head with a hand on the spot she'd struck. His eyes were incredulous. So what? “Run if you don't want to fucking die.” Dunbachel had begun speaking like Rem without realizing it, but this wasn't the time to notice. The guide started running with a hand still on the back of his head. The soldiers tensed as their demonic-beast extermination commission abruptly became a battle for their lives. “Fuck, where did this come from?”

“What are we supposed to do when they put in a commission without even checking properly?” Dunbachel tilted her neck from side to side. If this was all of them, there was no danger. That was her assessment. She had earned the right to that much confidence now. [“Want to live? Don't want to die? Then fight back.”]

Rem's voice echoed faintly in her memory. She hated even thinking about it, but sparring with Rem—those trials with the barbarian—had repeatedly instilled a yearning in Dunbachel. A desire to live that bloomed and burned apart from her urge to breed. It set her eyes ablaze. SHING!

Dunbachel drew her scimitar. “Don't step in front of me, and don't come near my sides.” With those words, she sprang forward. A thud sent dirt and gravel flying beneath her feet. Her body blurred, leaving an afterimage. Two horses opposite her reacted at once. NEIGH! The demonic beasts' short cry rang through the air. Creatures born to run, they too charged with tremendous speed, aiming to ram her with their bodies. A moment later, Dunbachel and the two demonic beasts became streaks that met and crossed.