Chapter 19 — The Grotesque
"Uwaaaaaah?!"
The instant I recognized it as a killing strike aimed at my throat, I twisted my body and leaped back—pure reflex overriding conscious thought.
It was beyond deliberate action—my instincts screamed that contact meant death, and my body obeyed without question.
And that judgment proved correct. Terrifyingly so.
The released black shadow passed through the space where I'd been standing moments before, then sliced through the trees behind me as if encountering zero resistance. Like a hot knife through butter, but impossibly faster.
A gust of violent wind struck me belatedly—the aftermath of that impossible swing.
Branches, leaves erupted into chaos—zawazawa—nature itself crying out in alarm.
I couldn't dodge the wind pressure entirely. Managed to lower my body and roll across the ground, dispersing the force as best I could. Dirt and debris stung my face, filled my mouth with the taste of earth.
...One swing to summon wind, to effortlessly slice through solid matter.
What the hell is this thing? A monster...?!
The thought was half panic, half analytical—my mind trying to categorize a threat that defied categorization.
"—[Smash]!!"
I thrust out my right hand and released magic without hesitation. Since I didn't know what would work, I used this versatile spell—the reliable fallback.
But the armor's figure wasn't at the impact point when my spell arrived. Just scorched earth and splintered wood.
It had approached me with a sliding movement that seemed to ignore physics entirely—gliding across the ground like something not quite bound by physical laws.
From where the armor's arms should be, black mist-like vapor was gushing out. Within it, those black whip-like appendages from before dangled limply, swaying with disturbing organic motion.
This clearly wasn't a human arm. There was no person inside that armor—not anymore, if there ever had been.
So what happened to the armor's owner? To the guard who'd worn it?
What became of all the guards?
...I had no time to consider such questions. Survival demanded immediate action.
The grotesquely elongated black arms blurred. Another strike incoming.
I drew my sword in one explosive motion—a pattern practiced thousands of times. Responding to ambush and sudden attacks—exactly the scenario I'd trained for obsessively after realizing I might die at any moment.
"———"
"Haaah!!"
I deflected the released jet-black sword strike, parrying it away with magic-reinforced steel.
The power sufficient to slice trees like butter didn't fully manifest against my enchanted blade. The collision sent shockwaves up my arm, but my sword held.
Of course, I'd accounted for that possibility in my technique.
With a normal sword, I'd have been bisected instantly. Split cleanly in two, dead before I hit the ground.
And I'd also anticipated the opening after its attack.
I kicked off the ground, closing distance to enter the thing's guard. Close combat was risky—that much was obvious—but if I could end it in one strike, the risk became manageable.
I had cards strong enough to justify that confidence.
"[Grand Blaze]!!"
From grip to tip, blazing flames erupted along my blade—an explosion of compressed fire magic given form.
Explosion wasn't metaphor. It was literal.
The gloomy forest thicket was violently illuminated by flames that turned night to day.
I didn't want to use fire extensively in this forest—risk of uncontrolled burning, of losing my escape routes to flame.
But to sever metal armor, this was the only option I could think of. Brute force wrapped in heat.
The blade accelerated rapidly from the explosive thrust, and I brought it down in a devastating arc.
A trail of fire followed the sword's path, and simultaneously, the situation became starkly clear: the armor's head and body had parted ways.
The severed helmet tumbled somewhere behind it—dosari—a heavy crash announcing its landing.
And yet... something felt wrong. No sense of impact, no resistance.
No feeling of got him.
Sure enough, something moved at the edge of my vision—wrong, all wrong.
The back of my neck went cold—hitari—ice water down my spine.
"—!!"
I kicked the armor in front of me with brute force, using the recoil to create distance.
In my field of vision, the thing's grotesque form became fully apparent.
From where the helmet had been, something pitch-black was gushing out like oil from a broken machine—thick, viscous, alive.
The whip-like hands visible from the gauntlets had somehow gained definite form—resembling human hands but fundamentally wrong. They moved in strange patterns, forming signs or seals with fingers that bent at impossible angles.
"...[Blaze Slash]!"
I couldn't afford to watch passively. Every second wasted was a second closer to death.
I released the flames coating my sword as a projectile strike—fire given cutting edge.
The fan-shaped attack flew straight toward the armor and struck directly. Its entire body became engulfed, a pillar of fire consuming metal and whatever darkness lived inside it.
...Is it working?
There had been no resistance. No attempt to dodge or defend.
I didn't understand its intentions, but surely nothing could emerge unscathed from that inferno. Right?
"[Grand Blaze]! [Grand Blaze]!!"
Like an idiot with one trick, I rapid-fired the same spell. But the logic was sound—if something worked, keep using it until the enemy stopped moving.
Better to stack overwhelming force than get creative.
The blazing flames grew even larger with each successive strike. The human-shaped shadow visible within disappeared, consumed by light and heat.
It's working... it's working!
The moment certainty began replacing hope—
"Ka...e. ...uu?? Ruu??"
Between the sounds of flames devouring air, I heard something—like a child's sleep-talk, garbled and wrong and familiar in its wrongness.
Instantly, the atmosphere transformed. The air itself changed quality.
Following that sensation, violent wind pressure and scalding heat assaulted my face and entire body—burning my exposed skin, making my eyes water.
Nature erupted again—gasagasa—leaves and branches thrashing wildly.
"—Ugh!"
I groaned softly against the heat and pressure, raising my arms to shield my eyes from being rendered useless.
ZUGAN!—something metallic crashed down beside me.
Through slitted eyes, I saw a metal plate-like object, charred black, embedded in the ground mere inches from where I stood.
Startled, I tried to look at the flames ahead—but the wind pressure remained too severe for direct observation. Squinting made tears stream down my face.
When my surroundings finally regained stability and the flame's heat dissipated, my vision finally stabilized.
What met my eyes: the aftermath of that raging inferno.
Nothing remained.
Just ground scorched black as far as I could see—carbonized earth radiating residual heat.
Not even the armor's empty shell remained. No trace of what I'd been fighting.
It had vanished.
Where? How?
Was it dead? Could it be that simple—that easy?
While thoughts connected in rapid succession, something moved at the edge of my vision.
A child. The one the armor had been holding, the one thrown aside by my initial attack.
I'd thought him dead. But apparently he'd survived—somehow remained breathing through everything.
Except... no. Nothing so simple or fortunate.
As expected, nothing was normal here. Everything was abnormal, wrong, corrupted.
He radiated the same bizarre atmosphere as the armor—that indescribable wrongness that made skin crawl and instincts scream warnings.
...It transferred into him?
The moment that thought crystallized, I moved fast—faster than conscious planning.
But even so, it was faster. The thing wearing a child's skin moved with inhuman speed.
"[Grand—?!]"
The child-thing launched itself at me with acceleration that defied human physiology—velocity that should have torn muscle from bone.
I flinched for an instant at the rapid approach—couldn't help it—but didn't release my magical focus.
If I could finish the spell first, it would hit before closing distance. Simple math.
That calculation proved fatally flawed.
"—Blaze]!!"
I released blazing flames forward, burning grass, air, everything in the path—a wall of fire to incinerate whatever touched it.
But the crucial thing wasn't hit. Didn't even slow.
The child-thing jerked sideways—gakun—abandoning straight-line approach.
Bad. I let it get close.
While I hesitated about the next attack, something high-velocity crossed beside me.
"What?!"
It had passed by. Gone past me entirely.
I couldn't immediately comprehend what had happened—my mind lagging behind events.
...It ran away? Passed right by and fled?
In that direction lies...
My heart pounded—dokuri—single heavy beat that seemed to echo in my skull.
I immediately spun on my heel and started running toward where it had gone.
Bad. That's bad. That direction is terrible.
That way led to the Sacred Rock... where the children were. Where Erica was waiting.
What would it do when it reached them? My mind supplied terrible answers I tried not to acknowledge.
This was my motivation laid bare: protect Erica. No matter what. Even if it meant my death—especially if it meant my death, because her survival was all that mattered in the calculus of this world's story.
...I accelerated with every ounce of magical enhancement I could muster.
Cold, unpleasant sweat clung to both body and mind—the sweat of genuine terror mixing with exertion.
＊＊＊
Erica waited with a solemn expression for the servant's return.
Liam had gone to search for the missing commoner, and some time had passed. He'd said he had a lead to follow, but had he found it? She had no way of knowing from here, no way to help.
"U-um..."
The boy beside her spoke up hesitantly. The one who'd come to report his friend's disappearance—shoulders hunched with guilt and worry.
The other children understood something serious had happened, but treated it as distant—someone else's problem—and continued playing their games.
But this boy felt responsible for raising the alarm. He waited quietly alongside her for Liam's return, sharing her vigil.
"Is... is he going to be okay?"
"Liam? The boy from before?"
"Uh, yeah..."
"He'll be fine. I'm sure he'll return like nothing happened, bringing the missing person with him."
Her voice carried absolute certainty—conviction born from years of observation.
It had always been that way. Liam Fort was simply that kind of person.
No matter what impossible task was thrust upon him, he'd show only a slightly troubled expression before accomplishing it flawlessly. Despite being only ten years old—the same age as her—he'd earned recognition from adults around him. Often he was entrusted with work that exceeded even adult capabilities.
So this time too, he would return with that casual expression—as if he'd done nothing particularly noteworthy.
She was certain of it. Absolute faith built over three years.
"But... that armored monster was really scary, so..."
"Liam is many times stronger than normal people. There's no need to worry."
Even during this trial, she'd glimpsed his strength firsthand.
Though they'd encountered few monsters, when they did, he'd handled them calmly and swiftly. He probably could have simply overpowered them with brute force, but out of consideration for her, he'd dealt with them in ways that prevented gore and blood from splattering. Unnecessary consideration, but touching nonetheless.
He often lost when sparring with her family's knights, but the fact that someone his age could fight them on equal footing proved his strength was genuine—even she could recognize that despite being no expert.
"I hope so..."
While she radiated confidence, the boy responded with an uncertain tone that suggested skepticism.
Well, it was probably normal to doubt what a child the same age could accomplish. He'd change his assessment when Liam returned victorious. She thought this privately, anticipating vindication.
That's why the next information to reach her ears made her frown with confusion.
"Ahhh! You made it!"
Children's surprised voices rang out.
"Where'd you go?!"
"The other guy was looking for you!"
"Did you get lost? How lame!"
Wahha wahha—they burst into boisterous laughter and commotion.
At the center of that vortex stood a single boy. The missing friend.
"Ah, that's him! My friend!"
The boy beside Erica exclaimed this and ran toward the reunion.
But she watched with an expression of discontent, confusion clouding her features.
(Liam...?)
His figure was absent. Nowhere to be found.
She'd expected him to return alongside the recovered boy, but Liam was conspicuously missing.
Hadn't he found him? That didn't make sense—the timing was too coincidental.
"Where were you?! We were looking for you!"
"Well, that's everyone from our village done then."
"Haaa, guess we can head home now."
While the locals celebrated among themselves, she stood there blankly—pokan—watching the scene unfold with growing unease.
"...Hey, let's go. What's wrong?"
"..."
The supposedly missing boy extended his hand silently. No emotion readable in his expression—face completely blank, empty.
Come to think of it, even during the excited reunion, his mouth hadn't moved at all. Not even to smile.
"...A handshake? Is that what you mean?"
The other boy reached out hesitantly, confused but willing.
This was the action beat that changed everything—the moment of contact that would shift from mystery to immediate, visceral danger.
In that instant:
The arm blurred—bure—a movement so slight you'd miss it unless watching carefully. Microseconds of motion too fast for human reaction.
Erica, watching from a distance, saw it. Recognized it as probably something very bad. Very dangerous.
But she couldn't move instantly—couldn't call out a warning fast enough. Could only watch as hand approached hand.
Then:
"DON'T TOUCH IT!!!"
A desperate, urgent shout rang out. Everyone's movements froze—bikuri—startled into immobility.
In that frozen silence, only one person moved actively: the source of that voice, bursting into view.
"Liam...?!"
The person she'd been waiting for erupted from the underbrush in a flying leap and delivered a vicious kick directly to the head of the boy offering a handshake.
Simultaneously, something black flew from that boy toward the rock—a dark slash of force too fast to track properly.
She learned two things in rapid succession:
That the black blur had been an intensely powerful strike.
And that the Sacred Rock had been bisected by it—split cleanly in two by force that should have killed the boy who'd reached for that handshake.
Liam had saved a life in the split-second before death could claim it.