Episode 991
At first, she just brushed it off.
“You say you saw a strange man in the forest?”
“Yes, Mage. It was probably on the night of the full moon. I clearly saw a man standing there.”
“Isn’t it common to see people passing through? That’s a major crossroads; quite a few folks come and go.”
“But his clothes looked too fine for someone from the nearby village. It made me wonder why a noble would be standing there alone. At first, it was so out of place I thought it might be a ghost—it was pretty eerie. Luckily, it was daytime.”
“Hmm… I see. Any other details about his appearance?”
“Not really. Nothing that stands out.”
Then suspicion set in.
“Arena! Look here!”
“Huh? What is this?”
“The tree trunk’s been cut cleanly. Doesn’t look like the work of a woodcutter.”
“No doubt about it. It’s sliced as if with paper. Either a monster or someone with supernatural powers.”
“But why cut it here? There’s no blood or signs of a fight.”
“Exactly. Why use force here all of a sudden? It can’t be just boredom.”
“Maybe he was testing something?”
“Testing?”
“Yes. To see how strong he really is.”
“He’s not some newborn monster…”
“Right. And that means it’s a sentient monster. There’s no record of such a thing among monsters.”
“Damn it. The more we find, the more twisted this gets.”
“Arena! Here! Another tree’s been gouged! Judging by the size and shape, it looks like the same one that attacked the kids.”
Then came certainty.
“…Huh?”
“Wait, stop right there!”
“That face looks familiar… who is it?”
“Wha—what?!”
Dressed like a noble, freshly groomed… it matched the villagers’ description perfectly. In one hand, he held a deer’s head, torn off so brutally the wound was gruesome.
Arena and the mages were struck silent by a sudden chill. Not just the grotesque sight, but because they recognized the man’s face.
“Chroni…?”
“Oh? The Minister of Magic?”
Chroni’s golden eyes flashed as he grinned.
“You haven’t changed. Time hasn’t touched you.”
“That’s what I was going to say. What the hell are you?”
What was going on? Chroni was supposed to be dead. Why was he here, drenched in beast’s blood? And what was with those golden eyes?
While Arena froze, Chroni wore a calm, almost smug smile.
“You really love your subordinates. I thought Ian would come, but the Minister himself shows up.”
“…!”
The moment she heard that, Arena unleashed her magic. It was instinct—she knew the one who killed the mages wasn’t some mysterious monster, but this guy.
Shhhhhh!
Boom!
The Red Forest shook violently. The mages crouched in surprise at the sudden outbreak of battle, but what shocked them more was Chroni’s power as he faced Arena.
“Damn… that…”
“Arena!”
“I’m fine! Cover me!”
Arena kept launching attacks at Chroni, shouting orders.
Chroni’s movements were inhuman—strength, agility, even his strange motions were unlike any normal person.
‘He’s dead. Did he get a new body?’
There was no other way to explain the power of Chroni, who had been an ordinary man in life.
Wanting to capture him alive for investigation, Arena hesitated to strike at his vital points. She dodged his relentless attacks, waiting for an opening.
“…?!”
Chroni reached out and grabbed a mage near Arena. The mage reacted immediately, swatting his hand away, but the move was clearly strange.
“What the—”
He was trying to seize him. The attack’s intent was unclear. Just as Arena stepped in front of the mage to attack again—
Thunk!
The mage stabbed Arena in the back. Shocked, she turned around, but Chroni reached for her again.
Swish!
She barely dodged, but lost her balance and staggered sideways.
“Rinka! Are you crazy?!”
“Arena! Are you okay?!”
Rinka’s eyes were wide with panic. It was obvious she wasn’t acting on her own will.
“No need to worry. We’ll all return to Bariel together. I wish Ian had come, but you all have your own value, don’t you? Minister of Magic?”
Chroni laughed aloud, and the mages charged.
“Wait!”
Arena’s shout was ignored.
Chroni easily dodged their attacks and grabbed more mages like before.
“…!”
Crack, crack.
The heads of the captured mages all snapped back. Except for Arena and the mage supporting her, everyone else stood silently, frozen.
Chroni nodded, and they all turned to glare at Arena.
“Hold her.”
Ziiing! Ziiing!
Just as the mages moved to attack Arena—
“Ugh!”
Chroni suddenly coughed up blood, bending over. Thin droplets fell as his body convulsed violently.
“…Damn.”
Was this too much for him?
The mental control that bound him tightened instantly. As Chroni twisted in dizziness, Arena gathered her magic in both hands.
Ziiing! Ziiing!
Damn bastard. What did you do to my people…!
Suddenly, Chroni’s furrowed eyes snapped open.
“…I can’t take this with me.”
“What?”
“Kill and be killed.”
At Chroni’s final command, the mages lunged at Arena all at once. She couldn’t bring herself to attack her own subordinates and withdrew her magic. Chroni smirked, as if he expected this.
Boom!
An explosion rocked the area around Arena. When the dust settled, she was gone. The others had vanished too—the mages under mental control had followed their orders and pursued her.
Chroni stared down at the bloodstains dripping onto the ground.
‘Won’t last long.’
He’d been stabbed deep in the back. Without immediate treatment, he would surely die. And as long as the mages chased him, that wouldn’t be possible.
Wiping the blood roughly away, Chroni sighed.
“Well then, let’s go.”
Kill or be killed—that was the order they’d been given. If Arena died, the mages would kill themselves, breaking the mental control naturally. Then the pain that gripped his body would vanish.
Slowly, Chroni walked south through the Red Forest. It was ten days later that he became certain the mages were dead.
Rustle, rustle.
“Arena, are you okay?”
“No. Let’s keep it brief.”
“Sorry, but I really think we should head to the capital. Things are serious.”
Supported by a mage, Arena ran with all her strength. The energy of the pursuing mages was still close behind.
“If we bring the mind-controlled mages into the capital… what then? How do we handle the fallout? We can’t have comrades turning on each other.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Keep going toward Astana. There must be someone among the shamans who can help.”
“Sigh, understood. But Arena…”
“What?”
“You look awful.”
“…Maybe we should rest a moment.”
“Sorry. If only I were stronger.”
“Enough with the self-pity. I’m the idiot here. They’re just pretty faces. Damn it, I should just punch them all.”
Arena leaned against a tree and lay down briefly. It had been a long time since she’d felt such physical pain. She pulled out a sheet of letter paper and checked her watch.
‘That bastard Chroni… he was hoping Ian would come, wasn’t he?’
Click.
She hesitated for a moment. If she reported everything, Ian would definitely open a portal and come here. That would cause all sorts of problems.
‘What if Chroni takes over the capital while the Ministry and Ian are away? And this place is dangerous. We don’t even know how far Chroni’s influence reaches.’
This was where the dead man had come back to life. It was too risky to enter recklessly. With a sigh, Arena began drafting a brief report.
‘Keep it vague. Make sure they don’t come here, but hint that something’s wrong.’
She could write the full details once she reached Astana. Biting her lip, she muttered,
“Damn it, pretty little Ian’s going to freak when he sees Chroni’s face.”
Rustle, rustle.
Suddenly, a sound came from the bushes. Arena held her breath and caught a flash of golden eyes in the darkness.
“Hah.”
Our Ministry’s little lapdogs really do their job well, no matter who gave the order.
Shhhhk!
Arena barely blocked the incoming mage’s attack. Her magic was still functional, but the wound in her back kept reopening. A damaged body couldn’t hold magic properly. Just as she was about to dash north again—
“Huh?”
A small doll blocked her path. A child, maybe seven years old. When did it get here? In the middle of the forest? Was it a monster? She hadn’t sensed a thing.
Startled, Arena hesitated. The child raised both hands and made scissors with their fingers.
“As expected, just as Your Highness feared!”
…Why does the kid sound like that?
Arena dodged an attack coming from behind and stumbled forward. She slid sharply at the child’s feet and groaned in pain.
“Ugh…”
“Bariel’s mage!”
“I’ve seen a lot in my life, but this is something else…”
“Welcome. This is Astana.”
The child clasped their scissor-like hands together and, through the narrow gap, stared at the attacking mages. Delicately and carefully, as if threading a needle.
“I am Katimako, the puppeteer of Astana.”
Muttering this, Katimako snapped their scissor-hands shut. At that moment, the charging mages were violently flung back as if something inside them had been severed.
“I specialize in cutting strings.”
Puppetry and mind control differ by a fine line. For Katimako, who had honed puppetry since the war a hundred years ago, this was an easy feat. Besides, they weren’t even close to the source of the mind control now.
“…Hah.”
Though puzzled, Arena tilted her head, then relaxed and lowered it. She didn’t understand exactly what was going on, but she knew this kid was on their side.
Perhaps from running nonstop for ten days and nights, battered and bruised, Arena completely lost consciousness.
“Seriously, why were you so late?!”
“Sorry, everyone! There were some things I just couldn’t say! Not just me, but the others couldn’t move for a while either.”
“We went through so much! Sob, sniff, sniffle!”
“Don’t cry! You’ll just tire yourself out!”
“That’s so cold!”
Ziiing! Ziiing!
Pewooong! Bang! Kraaang!
Arena deflected a series of attacks from the underground god and glanced at Ian. His eyes were also glistening with tears. Seeing that, Arena smiled faintly and nodded toward the direction she had come from.
“Ian, want to see who I came with?”
Bwooooo!
Bwoo-!
The loud blast of metal horns echoed.
At the signal, Astana’s shamans charged forward, their black cloaks billowing behind them. The weapons in their hands gleamed brightly.
“Argh! Fear not!”
“We have already won!”
“For Gaia!”
Shwaaak!
The underground god was not an enemy of Bariel, but of Gaia. If Bariel fell, their nation would inevitably collapse as well. The shamans leapt forward, all at once rushing toward the underground god.
“…Rise, warriors of Astana.”
And quietly watching over them was an old man. He sat half-reclined, his movements slow and awkward, but the dignity he radiated was as immense as a mountain. As if hearing his murmured words, the shamans’ charge grew stronger.
“Waaah!”
He was Hasha, king of Astana.