Chapter 274 - Was That All You Had to Show?

"I don't think it'll be a problem."

Pin answered. Things had gone awry, judging by the situation, but would that really be a problem? She doubted it. Who had come here with them? Encrid and Jaxon, of all people. With those brutally powerful sword strokes, Encrid could probably slice through half the bandits here. What loyalty would keep a band of thieves standing around watching that? Half of those watching would run, too. Would it be dangerous? Probably not. Pin could already see how a human crowd—especially a band of thieves—would react. They were predictable. Even if every last one attacked him in the worst-case scenario, this was Encrid. He would hardly take it lying down. "I smell a spell."

Sinar the Fairy spoke. Her senses were keen and clear. Pin frowned. A mage would be a headache. There was no telling what complications one might introduce. Even so... 'I still don't think they'll lose.'

It wasn't as though Encrid was alone. Pin had spent time living among the Lunatic Company. She knew Jaxon was far from ordinary, too. Hence her next words. "That aside, it looks like there's less attention on us."

She meant they should leave those two to fend for themselves and get on with their own work. Her eyes swept toward the village center, where Encrid had been causing a commotion. Torches lit every side of the central square, making it shine even in the dark of night. People—bandits, to be precise—were gathering there one after another. "True."

"Shouldn't we investigate what we came to investigate first?"

However dangerous things became, Pin thought, this was Encrid. Surely he could get himself out. Sinar nodded as well. There was a complication, but she clearly understood what took priority. The bandits had dug a burrow in the center of the village. Finding out what was happening inside came first. It warranted that much. She and Pin had followed its traces all this way.

* * *

He had joined the village barely a month ago. His name was Bond. He had been getting by as a mercenary when greed suddenly got the better of him and he stuck a knife in a comrade's back. Nothing unusual, really. He had wanted to pocket the entire payment himself. If he had made a mistake, it was that the bastard he'd stabbed hadn't obligingly died. And someone who was like a brother to that man served in some noble's guard. That was all it took to set the guards on Bond, sending him running for his life. 'My luck is fucking rotten.'

His mother had been a whore.

["Just go out and die! Die!"]

His life had been a mess ever since her incessant haranguing drove him out to drift through the territory's back alleys. He had made a name for himself as Bond the Backstabber before turning mercenary, but even then, old habits died hard. He had stabbed a comrade in the back, and circumstances had backed him into a corner. How many places could a man like him go? Somehow he'd managed to find refuge with Black Blade and was just beginning to settle in. Of everything he had learned in his month here, two lessons mattered most. First, defy the village's ruler and you would burn to death before you could do a thing. Second, never challenge the guard who trailed off at the ends of his sentences or the woman who wielded claws. After seeing a man lose his tongue over one ill-chosen quip, Bond wouldn't even look at that woman's thighs. He avoided crossing her path whenever possible. He knew her face, though. How else could he avoid her? To his mind, those two were symbols of the strength protecting this village. And now those two symbols had become symbols in earnest. The kind you could reasonably treat like motionless statues. Not that they had been left in any pleasing shape. "Grrrgh."

In truth, all Bond had seen was something whipping about and flying through the air. Some had simply stood watching in a daze like him, holding rusty shortswords, hammers, slingshots, sand-filled bludgeons called blackjacks, or nail-studded clubs. Others had looked for openings to throw daggers or darts, and there were more than ten crossbowmen as well. Yet none of them had time to react.

"Ghk, ghk."

Their gazes were fixed on those two symbols, who were making sounds somewhere between screams and groans. The trailing-voiced guard wielded a short spear about a forearm long. Apparently he had once been a mercenary of some sort, and a fairly famous one at that. Yet the instant sword and spearhead seemed to touch, his neck was cut through. Truly. One moment they touched, and by the time Bond thought, Huh? the neck had been sliced clean through. What his eyes saw made no sense. All he could see was the black-haired man's blade cutting his opponent's neck the instant the weapons met.

'Shouldn't blades at least clang when they meet?' Not so. The Flowing Sword Technique, the swordsmanship Encrid had created, utterly overwhelmed his opponent. A gentle stroke did not turn a keen blade into cotton. That blade had struck the enemy. Then the claw-wielding woman swiped at his back, but something swept upward from below, and she split in two. Thus the second symbol became two separate pieces of a body. That was all. What had he done? Bond thought he'd heard people speak of swordsmen with uncanny skills before, but this truly felt like some enchantment. A ludicrous disparity in skill could make swordsmanship look like a spell. Bond froze. Could he attack? Wouldn't he die the instant he tried? His instincts screamed at him to run, to flee right now. "Huh?"

As a crossbowman uttered that single, stupid sound, a voice spoke.

"Move aside."

The village's true ruler stepped out through the bandits. Bond started to retreat, then stopped the moment he saw the woman step forward. Her name was Kaisella. She had curly brown hair, gently curved eyes, thick lips, and conspicuously full breasts and buttocks. Resting one hand on a waist that looked narrow thanks to those curves, she frowned at the two corpses. The monster who had cut down the two symbols of strength swept his hand out the instant he saw her. In a flash, he drew a knife and threw it. Of course, Bond couldn't follow each movement. It was too fast. He could only see the result, with the intervening motions missing, and infer what had happened. The thrown blade struck an invisible barrier with a thud. The furrow between Kaisella's brows deepened. Whenever she made that face, villagers disappeared, or whole groups of chance visitors vanished. Or someone died. "Not a moment's hesitation."

Her voice was crystalline. Beside the man, the panther's eyes began to shine a fierce blue, but Bond couldn't see that, either. He still had no idea what was happening, but he knew something was about to erupt. Now he couldn't even think of running. He was rooted to the spot, as though someone held his legs. Kaisella pointed a fingertip at Encrid. He didn't move. At least, that was how it looked to Bond. He merely faced her pointing finger with a sword in his right hand. "I shall smite."

Kaisella's voice rang out at the same moment. KRA-KA-BOOM! There was no warning, no sign at all. With a roar that tore the sky apart, blue lightning struck directly above the man's head. A flash filled Bond's vision, blinding him. Then that light hurled him backward. The shock wave sent him flying, but he had no time to feel himself airborne. No, he simply didn't remember it. When he came to, all he saw was the dirt in front of his face. "Urrrrgh."

A groan reached his ears. It wasn't his voice, though he soon realized he was making much the same sound himself. He twisted halfway over, struggling to get up. He saw people with half their bodies burned away. One comrade had become a blackened lump. 'What? What was that?'

The pain still hadn't properly registered. The impact had been that great. His memory of the moment it struck was gone. He forced his body to move. He was better off than most. His entire body hadn't burned away. Only, the moment he became aware of it, pain raced up from his right arm. GRIT. He clenched his molars without realizing it and looked down to his right. From his right arm to his thigh, everything was black. The surface of his skin looked cooked and charred. The searing pain made it hard to think. 'Lightning. It was lightning.'

As a child, he had once seen lightning strike fairly close by. White fire. A blow delivered by some unseen light. He remembered the flare of that lightning bolt. He was still dazed. That was a blessing. Otherwise, the pain would have made him scream. Simply being nearby had burned away most of his hair and left him feeling as though someone had rammed a fireball down his throat. Bond blinked several times. His eyes were intact. As his mind cleared a little, the pain coursing through him sharpened.

'Ghk.'

He screamed inwardly and wobbled helplessly, cold sweat streaming down him. It felt as though rats were tearing into his body. He thought he was standing, but he wasn't. He retreated, crawling backward on his buttocks, until his back met a wall. Its cold surface seemed to dull the pain a little. Only then could he look ahead. Even a rough estimate put the black-haired attacker more than fifteen paces away from him. Yet he was hurt this badly. What had happened to the spell's target at its center? He must be dead. Bond would have accepted without question that the man had suffered the horror of burning to ash where he stood. Look what had happened to Bond himself. Those a little closer had died, charred black. Yet the man he saw was unharmed.

'How?' And someone new stood beside him: a woman with long, straight black hair and a gray robe. Holding one hand in the air, she spoke.

"A lightning-strike spell. Serviceable." How to describe the feeling in her voice? Like an adult watching a child's little performance. She looked down on her opponent, judging her abilities without mercy. Even while gasping from the lightning strike, Bond could sense that emotion, that impression in her tone. There was no way the caster could miss it. "One mad bastard and one mad bitch."

Kaisella spoke again, moving her fingers. Unintelligible words began to spill from her mouth. A spell was beginning. Even so, Bond forgot his pain for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the black-haired woman. She was a beauty with a peculiar allure that drew every eye, every shred of attention around her. Whatever had been done to her black hair, each strand flowed like silk. Her lips were red, her eyes blue. She was full of mystery. Where Kaisella's body stirred lust, this woman's appearance inspired awe. Even as the thought drifted through his mind, Bond felt like an idiot for losing his head over a woman. Of course, he wasn't the only one.

* * *

The instant Encrid recognized the mage's presence, he tensed his thighs. His thrown blade had been blocked, so he need only cut her down in person. At that moment, something fell toward his head at a speed no human body could possibly match. The instant he sensed and perceived the destructive flash, his body reacted. Splitting the moment into fractions, he prepared to defend himself. He meant to cover his head with both arms and endure it. At the same time— "I'll do it."

A murmured whisper came from beside him. No, to be precise, she had spoken before the light flashed overhead, but Encrid registered the light first and the voice afterward. Esther had already taken human form, clad in a gray robe. She extended her open right palm before her. That was all it took. Beyond his five ordinary senses, Encrid's Sixth Sense registered two magics colliding. Something like the invisible barrier that had stopped his dagger covered his head before the destructive light—the lightning—could reach it. KRA-BOOM! Then the lightning struck. Its force sent the surrounding bandits flying in all directions. Encrid saw the intangible barrier that had stopped the mass of light: a translucent screen suffused with a soft blue glow. When it met the lightning, it scattered and dispersed the light. Those newborn rays ricocheted outward, never to return. Those prodigal rays that had left home burned and pierced the bodies around them. Esther's spell had blocked half the lightning and deflected the rest. "Banna's Mirror?"

Their opponent murmured, a little surprise showing in her eyes. Esther didn't so much as shrug. Her attitude said she couldn't care less what came out of the woman's mouth. Arrogant and haughty. Yet it didn't look ugly on her. It seemed only natural. Encrid noticed anew the mysterious quality of Esther's appearance, but it did nothing to sway him. If a woman's looks were enough to sway him, he could never have followed his own path so steadfastly all this time. Their opponent began another incantation, and Esther, too, muttered unintelligible words. CHIRRRRR. Something like an insect's chirping sounded from somewhere. Blue light gathered in Kaisella's hand and instantly became lightning. This time, however, it did not plunge down from above. It raced toward them in a zigzag from her fingertips. Esther raised a hand to meet it. The lightning struck a transparent barrier and flew straight back. The flashes left afterimages on Encrid's retinas. "Vanish!"

Kaisella shouted hastily. For some unknown reason, blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Tut, tut, child. Why undo a spell you worked so hard to summon? You can't even withstand the backlash of its mana."

Kaisella's face stiffened at Esther's lesson. She was flustered, and understandably so. Against a swordsman, she would not lose. She had preparations in place throughout this village. A prepared mage could kill a hundred alone and hold off a thousand. But against a mage of higher standing, there was nothing she could do. That was an accepted truth. Kaisella glared at the woman who had suddenly appeared—or, more precisely, the woman the panther had become.

"Who are you?"

Esther did not give her name. She merely looked down on her opponent. She had every right to. There were at least three whole stages between her own spell world and that of the curly-haired woman. "Impossible."

Kaisella murmured. How could a mage like that turn up in this rural backwater? What could she possibly gain here? Arrogance made a mage. So did selfishness and narrow-mindedness. Kaisella began murmuring unintelligible words again. It was a spell to manifest her spell world in reality. Esther watched her steadily, then stepped forward, chanting as she walked. Every eye followed her steps. No one watching dared fire a crossbow or attack. More than five crossbowmen had survived the lightning's aftermath unharmed, yet they remained utterly motionless. Encrid, too, became a spectator.

'She's pretty good.'

That was all he thought as he watched blankly. He had known Esther was a mage, but not how skilled she was. Now that he saw her in action, she seemed far better than the voluptuous woman before them called Kaisella. That was enough. Had he ever expected anything from Esther in the first place? In truth, Encrid had never expected anything from anyone around him. He walked his own path, and the sight was so extraordinary that others watched and chose to follow on their own. "How dare you!"

Kaisella shouted. Encrid couldn't tell what was happening between the two. No magic, spell, or mystic phenomenon manifested. He could only perceive the air trembling between them, and that something was happening beyond his sight. Soon Esther stood before Kaisella. Kaisella was taller, and her voluptuous figure made Esther look slender. Still, Encrid had already seen that Esther was naked beneath her robe. As she raised her hand, the opening in the fabric had shown him everything, in intimate detail. His eyesight and perception were already extraordinary; seeing a part let him reconstruct the whole in his mind. Esther's figure was merely concealed. It was no less fine than that of her voluptuous opponent. "Was that all you had to show?"

Esther spoke as she stood before Kaisella. Her gaze and tone were plainly disparaging the other woman's figure.