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[157] The Second Encounter (5)
"Freeman, thank you."
"Hehe, what's this over? Let's get out of this damned place fast. Wherever we go, I can feed at least one of you."
At the unexpected words, Marsha was flustered. Then she realized the time had come and spoke in a sad voice.
"Freeman, I'm sorry. I'm leaving alone. I'm not taking you with me."
"What? Why? What is a girl going to do out there by herself? The outside world is dangerous."
"It's okay. Now I feel like I can do anything."
"No! I won't allow it! I'm going with you! I will never let you go alone."
Marsha thought it over one last time. But no matter how she turned it around, she couldn't take him.
Freeman had a family.
Though the man was hardly any different from her own foster father, he was still a real father with blood ties.
"Freeman, I don't love you."
At Marsha's blunt words, Freeman's face flushed.
"H-hey, what is that all of a sudden?"
"You're a really good friend. But I will never accept you as a man. Following me would be misery for you, too. I might even marry another man."
Freeman felt his chest tear. Cruel. So cruel, Marsha.
How could she say that in a situation like this? This might be the last time, for all they knew.
Freeman clenched both fists and ground his teeth.
If Marsha said so, then that was that. If he hovered around her, he'd only end up getting hurt himself.
"I don't care. I'm still going with you. I'm sick of living with a drunk who calls me a cripple. This is my will."
Marsha was angry. Freeman's stifling personality drove her to the brink.
"You idiot! Why won't you understand plain speech? I said I don't like you!"
"So what? If you don't want to like me, then don't! I'll just like you! I don't care if you marry someone else or have kids! I'll keep liking you! You don't have the right to tell me not to like you!"
Marsha shouted back, fed up.
"Oh yeah? Perfect. Then spend your whole life staring only at me and die an old bachelor. Want the truth? You following me is baggage. How long do I have to look after a coward who couldn't kill an ant? It'll only make my life harder!"
"I'm not a coward! I'll protect you!"
"And how exactly are you going to protect me? What can you even do?"
"Aaaargh!"
Freeman screamed at the ground. Then he snatched up a sharp stone in sight and began to scrape off his eyebrows.
Startled out of her wits, Marsha grabbed him to stop him.
"What are you doing, you idiot!"
"Let go! I said let go!"
Freeman was unstoppable.
The rough rasp of skin being torn off raised goosebumps. Marsha stared, aghast.
Freeman rubbed with the stone until his eyebrows were completely gone, then flung it to the ground. When he stood again, his face was a blood-smeared mask like a war fiend's.
"How's that? Don't I look scary now, too? The only reason I was a coward was my eyebrows. No one will mess with me anymore. So I won't be baggage to you."
"Are you… crazy?"
Marsha was too dumbfounded to speak. But Freeman was deadly serious.
Without eyebrows, his impression certainly looked frightening—yet in truth, he was making the saddest face in the world.
"I'll get strong. No matter what it takes, I'll get strong. So can't you just let me stay by your side? I'll never ask you to like me—just let me come with you, please?"
"You… ugh, you idiot."
Marsha let out a long, heavy sigh. She knew it shouldn't be like this, but even that thought seemed to be blown out on the breath.
"Marsha."
Freeman's eyes snapped open. The face that had been twisted by burns was already perfectly regenerated.
How much time had passed? Maybe it was already too late. But he had to go. He'd promised. Until Marsha died, even his life wasn't his own.
"I'm coming now. Wait for me."
The energy spent to wrench himself back to life from the brink of death was monstrous. His body felt heavy, and there was no strength in his legs.
Even so, Freeman walked without stopping.
To where Marsha was.
Marsha Clay (1)
Amy gritted her teeth and raced along the mountain path. Her mental power had recovered enough to think, but it was still too much to try casting spells.
That didn't mean she could slow down. The battle wasn't over yet. She'd dealt with Freeman, but one more formidable foe, Palcoa, still remained.
"Hoo… just a little more!"
When the destination came into view, Amy pushed herself even faster. And when she finally crested the hill, her eyes flew wide at the unexpected sight.
Rian, beaten to a wreck, was holding Palcoa from behind.
But that wasn't why Amy was shocked.
Tess was sprinting at full tilt and driving a thrust of her sabre at Palcoa.
Tess's eyes were fiercer than ever. At this rate, Rian would be skewered along with him. Yet the two of them didn't hesitate in the slightest, as if they'd already reached a silent agreement.
At last, Tess's sabre ran Palcoa through. Rian's eyes widened, and his shoulders began to convulse.
A moment later, blood burst from Rian's mouth with a wet thump.
Twenty minutes before Amy arrived.
Palcoa's attacks were the epitome of dazzling—yet what gleamed wasn't finesse but the beastlike violence that welled up from brutality.
Rian couldn't even think about technique. Just enduring the shock had already spent his stamina to the very limit.
Seizing an opening, Palcoa slashed Rian's thigh.
Rian! Tess's voice cried out. Rian had held out better than expected, but once his lower body was hit, half his strength was gone.
Enraged by her friend's injury, Tess launched an attack. But Palcoa was every inch a fiend of the battlefield.
As if nothing mattered so long as it didn't kill him, he poured most of his movement into offense.
That actually reduced Tess's attack frequency. It was a fresh demonstration of the old saying that offense is the best defense.
As the fight went on, cuts multiplied over Rian and Tess's bodies. They avoided mortal wounds, but after ten minutes of drizzle soaking through, their bodies were little better than rags.
"Kuahahaha! Is this the end? That was the most fun I've had in a while."
Ignoring Palcoa's taunt, Tess glanced back at Rian, who was gasping for breath.
"Rian, are you okay?"
"Y-yeah… I can manage. You?"
Tess couldn't get the words out past the rising tears. Manage what? The scars of Palcoa's blade were written clear across his entire body.
She had never been this heartsick in her life. What the hell was that piece of trash to be able to lay a hand on Rian?
Tess clenched the grip of her sabre hard. Even if it cost her life, she would cut off Palcoa's windpipe.
"Yaaah!"
Tess drew her sabre in close and charged. It was the Elzaine house's signature lunging posture.
But the gap in power couldn't be bridged even by a secret art.
Tess's forward speed was tremendous, yet Palcoa retreated even faster.
As the distance opened, his intent was plain. With a wicked split of his mouth, Palcoa suddenly kicked off the ground to surge forward—and with deft ease, he slid Tess's sabre aside.
"Huk!"
Sliding to her flank, Palcoa drove his knee into her ribs. Her lungs compressed, and Tess's breathing cut off for an instant.
"Keh keh… not bad. But you still reek of greenhorn."
Palcoa's greatsword fell toward Tess.
Time seemed to slow for Tess. She saw, in stark clarity, the arc of the blade descending to sever her neck.
But she couldn't move. As time slowed, so too did her body.
'I'm sorry… Rian. I wanted to pay him back with at least one blow.'
At that moment, Rian charged like a bull and tackled Palcoa.
"Aaaaargh!"
Palcoa's legs lifted off the ground. But Rian's tackle failed. Even in the air, with terrifying balance, Palcoa righted himself, landed as if nothing, yanked Rian's nape in, and slammed a knee up.
"Guhk!"
The shock punched through his solar plexus, sped past his stomach, and seemed to burst out his back.
So this was the fighting prowess of a demon who'd lived mad for war. There seemed to be no way to shake Palcoa.
"Pathetic. Don't worry too much. I'll take good care of your woman."
Rian's ebbing consciousness snapped back. They bickered as usual, but Tess was a good friend. As a fellow swordsman, he respected and acknowledged her.
"Not to a bastard like you…"
Gripping Palcoa's collar, Rian hauled with all he had, as if he were setting his body on fire.
"You don't get my friend, you bastard!"
"Grrk!"
Dragged toward Rian as if swept by a wave, Palcoa was puzzled. He knew the kid was strong, but not on a level to rival his Schema.
So where did this strength come from, all of a sudden?
Rian slipped behind Palcoa and locked in a wrestling hold. With his arm wedged beneath the armpit, both of Palcoa's arms floated up and he couldn't swing his blade.
"You little—!"
Flaring his lats, Palcoa forced his arms down. The bridge of Rian's nose twisted. It felt like ropes were tied to his shoulders and teams of horses were hauling him apart—his body shrieked.
"Krrrrgh…!"
But Palcoa couldn't break free.
It was, without question, strange. No opponent he'd faced in this fight had greater raw strength than him. So how could the kid produce this kind of power?
"Damn it! You little shit! Let go of me!"
"Heh heh! Go on, try to break out. This is what they call the Imagination Schema, you bastard."
Mages temper the mind; swordsmen temper the body. Yet even for a swordsman, whose ground goal is physical enhancement, there is one organ deeply tied to the mind.
The brain.
Might thought influence the body as well?
They are very few, but some Schema users devote their lives to restoring the brain's diagram.
Rian didn't know it, but the name Imagination Schema had been given by those people.
Does the thought I won't let Palcoa go influence the body? If so, does the effect vary with the intensity of the thought?
If all this is possible—since thought has no limits—then if one were to strengthen thought to the extreme, how greatly could its effect be amplified?
Rian decided not to move. He issued a specific order to his body and fixed it in that state.
A kind of mental lock.
The accepted view is that the Imagination Schema isn't even a Schema, but Rian's monstrous strength right now defied any other explanation.
"Aaaargh! Let go! I said let go, you little—!"
Palcoa thrashed like a madman. It didn't feel like he was caught by a living being. Rian's body was petrified, not budging an inch.
"Tess! Stab!"
"B-but…"
Tess understood what Rian was saying. It was the rational choice. If not now, there would never be another chance to beat Palcoa.
But Tess couldn't make the decision. To kill Rian—no. She would sooner die with him than drive a blade through him with her own hands.
"Rian…"
"Aaaargh! Hurry! I can't hold him long!"
Danger signals flared from every part of Rian's body. His flesh was only carrying out the mind's order at a hundred percent; the limit was obvious. If Palcoa broke free, it would be after Rian's body had been torn to pieces.
"Tess! Do it now!"
"Yaaah!"
Tess charged, tears streaming. Rian was staking his life to complete his task. If she missed the moment out of foolish sentiment, she'd be making Rian the biggest fool in the world.
That was the exact moment Amy arrived.
"Tess! Don't!"