39 - A Certain Adventurer’s Perspective (4)

Looking at the three carriages before me, I thought.

“Hey, what exactly are those for?”

“Poisoned bait. Maybe they want to do some pest control.”

If something like that could kill it, things would be much easier—I felt stupid for even asking.

Forced into an extermination mission without proper preparation, the mercenary companies’ morale was dismal.

On top of that, the news that the mercenary company with the best mages wouldn’t participate pushed our chances even further away—it was no wonder our members grumbled.

“They say it stole dried meat. If it takes the bait, things will be easy.”

Perhaps sensing the mood, Edward offered words that were little more than hollow comfort.

But no one knew if poison would even work on the thing.

“From this moment, we shall slay the wicked monster infesting the highway! This is a direct order from the lord himself. To whoever takes its head, honor and reward are promised! Of course, to claim that head you’ll have to strike before I do, so your odds are slim. Still, I expect great valor from you all!”

One of the knights was spouting delusions.

Was it just me, or was there nothing but unease?

No, it wasn’t just me—the unease proved correct.

As we’d heard, arrows didn’t pierce it, and the soldiers faltered.

The leader of Unyielding Greatsword was struck down without fanfare, not even given a chance to show off.

It ignored the spells hurled at it, letting them land without a care—its very posture inspired fear.

(It must have resistance to magic.)

There was no need to analyze. Half-baked sorcery wouldn’t work.

And even landing a hit was difficult.

My task was to make sure it actually took damage.

If normal weapons were useless, then it had to be us mages who dealt effective blows.

Yet, for some reason, none of the others were even trying major spells.

That meant most of the mages here were just a ragtag bunch.

Now I understood why Orland despaired.

If even arbalests couldn’t pierce it, the only thing left for regular soldiers would be to bring out ballistae.

Leaving the useless soldiers behind, I wove through the mercenaries, carefully channeling magic and taking up position.

If its gaze turned to me, it would be over.

I stayed hidden behind the mercenaries, moving to a position as close to its rear as possible.

“Yo.”

Orland called out to the new species.

It was his old foe, but would it remember?

When it growled low in response, I knew its attention was on him.

(It does have intelligence. It remembered its opponent.)

Battle began. Orland fought only defensively, stalling for time until others arrived.

The halberd-wielding captain had gone down too quickly, so buying time was the only option left.

And now, with its focus diverted, it was my turn.

I channeled magic into my staff and began the incantation.

Since Orland had fought it before, he wouldn’t fall so easily.

Carefully I aimed, waiting for the timing.

Perhaps frustrated by Orland’s evasions, it lunged.

“Now!”

I shouted without meaning to, but I disrupted its attack before it noticed.

It had planned to finish him after forcing him back, but my wind spell struck its raised hand at the perfect moment.

It was forced to plant its hand on the ground to stop the momentum.

Orland pressed the attack instantly, but it countered by springing forward, spoiling the Giant-Killer’s strike.

(Damn! Even that didn’t land!?)

Staying here after casting was dangerous.

I tried to reposition, but it had already seen me.

It frustrated me deeply that the blow had not landed.

But with Dawn’s members joining the fight, the flow shifted.

They stuck to hit-and-run, overwhelming it with more strikes than it could block.

Combined with the earlier exchange, our morale lifted.

We could fight on.

Or so I thought—until the knights ruined things.

Their wasted volleys of arrows disrupted mercenary attacks.

After several such blunders, another chance appeared.

Once again, Dawn’s members proved the difference experience made.

They advanced through the arrows, slipping past its attacks.

Close range wasn’t its advantage.

I saw Annie throw a vial of magic potion.

At that distance, I thought it impossible for it to dodge.

But it treated it with utmost caution.

Likely, it had the sense to always evade unknown attacks.

(But I won’t let that chance slip by!)

Finishing my chant, I stepped forward and unleashed fire magic.

The strongest fire spell I knew—I struck just as it landed from a leap.

“Graaaaah!”

It roared, slamming its fist into the massive fireball and forcibly knocking it off course.

“Impossible…!”

The only conclusion was that it was resistant to fire.

I hurriedly moved again, but I knew it had seen me.

Its guard was higher than ever—I’d be lucky to get one more spell off.

And even before that, my mana was nearly spent. I’d need a mana crystal, but even then, I’d only manage one more attack.

Before I could prepare, it leapt high.

It landed among the lord’s army.

It had never moved from its ground until now—I should have realized earlier.

Now that it acknowledged us as true enemies, it went on the offensive.

The slaughter began.

Soldiers were hurled, trampled, crushed.

Simply by running, it tore through them, leaving soldiers fleeing in terror.

The monster rampaged unchecked—no, unstoppable.

“Retreat! Fall back! Reform the line!”

A knight tried to give orders from horseback, but who would listen now?

I knew it would come for us next, so I moved.

I ran not deeper into the lines, but toward where our fighters battled it.

A knight shouted something, but I had no time to care.

Soon knights fell, soldiers broke, and it turned toward the mercenaries.

No one could stop it.

It moved too fast for anyone to keep up.

“This is my last shot!”

I shouted to Orland as we passed each other, but he couldn’t respond.

Of course.

Unlike armies, mercenary companies were finished once destroyed.

We had no choice but to stop it.

Every mercenary charging the monster thought the same.

But then, as if anticipating it, it spun around and charged directly at them.

(It’s going to take them all out at once!?)

It had come to finish it.

I knew instinctively. If I began a chant now, I might not make it in time.

(Even so!)

No matter the strain—I had to try.

But all I could do was watch as mercenaries crumpled one after another.

I had prayed for them to buy even a little time, but before I knew it, none remained standing.

Neither soldiers nor mercenaries moved.

The battle was decided.

Everyone knew it.

My chant completed—but far too late.

(Even so, at least let me strike once!)

I drained the mana crystal, shattering it as it cracked.

A massive stone projectile, sharpened and spinning, formed and launched.

It was the foundational ultimate technique of my school, though I had never once seen its promise realized.

If what I’d learned was true, let this strike prove it.

“Graah!”

It roared, punching the stone projectile and knocking it wildly off course.

My hope was crushed—it had changed the trajectory again.

Exhausted, I collapsed to my knees.

It approached.

When it was close enough, I poured the last magic into my staff, sacrificing it to form a blade of mana and swung.

It evaded with ease, knocked the staff away with its tail, and seized me.

(Damn! Just like Orland said—it intends to eat me!)

Its grip didn’t hurt.

That fact—that it didn’t mean to wound me—chilled me more, confirming the story.

I had accepted dying in battle.

But the thought of being eaten alive triggered primal terror.

I struggled, but its fingers held me firm.

I wriggled, lifted myself, but couldn’t slip free.

When I twisted like a worm, its face loomed close.

‘I was too late,’ I thought, nearly resigning—yet it didn’t bite.

It only stared.

I struggled to escape, but it was useless.

And with my robe torn, my chest was exposed.

“If you can eat me, then try! I’ll burn you from inside!”

I knew it was no real resistance.

Still, I couldn’t just do nothing.

I braced myself for death—but it never came.

Instead, after staring at me a while, it began walking.

“Where are you taking me?”

There was no answer.

I looked around, but no rescue came.

Then the words of a prostitute I’d spoken to during information gathering resurfaced.

“Others said they’d been looked at too. Maybe it sees human women that way… like goblins do.”

The words almost slipped from my mouth.

“Are you planning to… violate me?”

The monster didn’t answer.

Of course—it couldn’t.

Resistance was futile. I gave up, carried along, until we reached the carriages used as bait.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly. This is a sick game.”

It didn’t react—just suddenly set me down and fiddled with its huge pack.

I didn’t know what it meant, but my body was free. Weak though I was, I looked desperately for anything I could use as a weapon.

(Anything—a stone, anything I can hold—something to fight with—)

Just as I tried to resist one last time, it placed a sword before me.

A familiar sword—something unforgettable.

At last, I’d found it.

I almost reached for it on instinct, then caught myself.

I looked up at it, wondering what it meant—and it nodded.

It set the magic sword down, as if to say “I’m returning this.”

I stretched out and embraced our sword lovingly.

I wanted to weep in joy at this reunion.

But I couldn’t.

It wasn’t over yet.

The monster shouldered its pack and turned away.

I was no longer of interest.

So I shouted.

“Humans aren’t your playthings!”

I was glad to have it back.

But why return it?

(Was it telling us to stop the Hunter? You monster!)

The only thing clear was this—no matter how much we risked our lives, to it, this was all just a game.

We had merely been toyed with.