“Shit.” That’s the only thing I can think of. This person is clearly extremely strong, at a level I can’t even begin to imagine.
My mana is almost completely depleted. Creating this sword cost me the last bit I had left in reserve. My body isn’t responding properly either; I’m too exhausted to think clearly or even attempt to escape.
Looking at the person again, I know I wouldn’t be able to escape. I couldn’t do it even if I were at my best. It’s impossible.
I’m only standing thanks to my willpower and my desire to finish this once and for all. Under different circumstances, my body might have already collapsed after the explosion or when I confirmed the condition of both people.
I feel the exhaustion hit me even harder, and my cube rejects my attempt to squeeze it to the limit to obtain more mana and use my Imra. I hadn’t realized just how miserable my condition was until now. I’m truly completely exhausted and weak.
The adrenaline kept me standing after the explosion… even the wounds I thought I had properly closed or healed are slowly bleeding again, and the reconstruction of my legs wasn’t as complete as I thought.
I should have noticed when I had to use gravity mana just to keep myself standing upright. At that moment, I should have finished him off faster so I could rest.
My slightly clouded mind focuses once again on the person in front of me. I force my brain to keep my mental ability active so I don’t pass out or panic. I force every part of my body to give one last push in an attempt to escape, even though it seems impossible.
There’s one thing I’m certain of in this situation: the person in front of me is Obsidian rank. I have no doubt about that. Only people of that rank can seem as calm as a tree while simultaneously giving off an unavoidable sense of danger, like a natural disaster.
“Don’t try it. It’ll be pointless.” A masculine voice comes from beneath the purple cloth wrapped around him. “You’ll pass out, or even worse, your body will react negatively if you force it beyond its limit.” The person speaks again when he realizes I was thinking of ignoring him.
“Who are you? Why are you here?” I know I have the opportunity to ask questions because of his tone of voice and what little I can sense from his Imra; he’s only curious. I haven’t felt any intention to kill me.
It could be a deception. It wouldn’t be difficult for someone of his strength to fool my senses, but I trust myself, and I know I’ll make it out of this alive.
“I’m here because of this person.” Prito’s body rises from the ground and floats beside him. “No, to be precise, I’m here because of the weapon he used.” A spear appears between the two of them. It’s the same golden spear from before.
“As for your other question, I’m a Herald. I imagine you’ve met others before. I’m a Herald serving Prito’s father.” His voice sounds calm.
I freeze for a moment. This is the first time I’ve met another Herald, and this time it’s an Obsidian rank. From what I understand, they always move in pairs, but I can’t sense anyone else nearby.
Maybe he works alone? It wouldn’t be strange considering his level. Something else that crosses my mind is how a viscount has such a powerful Herald. According to what Uncle Julio explained to me, even some marquises have trouble getting their Heralds to reach Obsidian rank.
“Are you taking him with you? That person came to cause trouble in my territory. This isn’t going to end that easily.” I can’t let him take Prito away so easily. I should be extremely careful right now because even other Ruby ranks could easily kill me in my current condition. The person beside me only needs the blink of an eye to end my life.
I can feel a slight irritation in the air around the person, and my body immediately tells me to run. The feeling isn’t entirely directed at me. It seems to be aimed at Prito, whose body trembles.
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“My apologies. That wasn’t my intention.” The person wrapped in cloth apologizes immediately. I don’t sense any regret in his words. It’s merely an apology.
Prito’s body falls to the ground without the slightest care. “As I told you, I came for the spear. I was planning to take young Prito’s body with me as well, but if that isn’t possible, then I have no other choice.” He seems completely detached from the idea of bringing his master’s son back alive, as if the attempt itself were nothing more than protocol.
The person grabs the spear, and I feel a burst of mana erupt from the weapon. I raise my arms in front of my face in an attempt to protect myself, even though I know it’s pointless considering the force of the explosion and how weak my body is.
I don’t need to open my eyes because my Personal World tells me that I haven’t moved even a centimeter from my position. The Herald created a layer of mana around me to protect me. This mana dome was formed in the blink of an eye, only after he sensed the mana explosion.
I can see the spear continuing to expel mana in every direction. The Herald is doing something to the enchantments. A minute later, the mana pulses disappear into nothingness, and the brilliant golden spear loses some of its intensity. Although it’s still beautiful, it looks slightly less radiant.
What happened? I can more or less understand part of it because of the weapon’s violent reaction. He just severed the weapon’s connection to the noble. I don’t know how he did it, but that must be what happened.
Prito is still lying on the ground. He wasn’t sent flying because his body was also surrounded by a layer of mana. At least the Herald cares enough to keep him safe, or maybe he simply wants to leave the body with me in the best condition possible.
The man, his hand wrapped in purple cloth, grips the spear more tightly and makes movements so fast that they’re almost impossible to follow even with my Personal World. I would be cut to pieces before I even realized what happened.
He places the spear on his back after playing around with it for a couple of seconds. Watching his actions makes me even more certain that something happened to the spear. It seems he really did break some kind of connection between the weapon and Prito.
“You look rather surprised.” His voice sounds somewhat playful. “Prito no longer belongs to my master’s house. He strayed from the path several years ago. He is no longer considered part of the family or one of us.” His voice becomes serious when he speaks about the noble lying on the ground.
“This spear is the greatest honor the viscount’s children can bear. Prito showed potential many years ago, but unfortunately, he ended up disappointing all of us until he became what you see before you now.” I can sense a hint of melancholy in his voice. I could confirm it if his face weren’t completely covered.
“It’s time for it to pass on to the next generation.” The spear appears in his hands again. I can’t tell what expression he’s making; he simply seems to be staring intently at the spear.
“May I ask which noble house you belong to?” I had forgotten to ask until now. It was stupid of me not to ask earlier.
“Santro. We belong to the Santro Territory.” His voice is filled with pride.
I can understand the pride in his words. Everyone in the world should know that word: “Santro.” There shouldn’t be a single person in the Empire or the kingdoms who hasn’t heard that name or doesn’t know the history behind it.
“It seems your reinforcements are arriving.” The man wrapped in cloth looks in the direction where Puntsal should be. “I don’t want to cause any misunderstandings between your family and ours. It would be best if I left as soon as possible.”
I can’t sense anyone within the radius of my ability, but comparing myself to him is ridiculous. I’m terribly exhausted, and my sensory ability has fallen quite far behind in terms of rank. Maybe I should start improving it again.
Something slowly flies toward me. When I catch it, I see that it’s a coin made of some kind of material, and in the center is the symbol of a fruit resembling an orange, except completely purple. It’s the symbol of House Santro.
“We don’t like owing favors or making enemies for no reason. If you ever come to our territory and wish to contact the viscount, you can show that coin.” He levitates slightly before speaking again. “Once again, I apologize for the trouble Prito caused. We didn’t think he would go this far. I’m glad he didn’t cause any irreparable disasters.”
“I’ll come one day to ask for compensation.” I say it half-jokingly and half-seriously.
“We owe you that. Come whenever you wish.” His voice carries enormous confidence. “By the way, one last thing before I leave. You’re strong and very fortunate. People hate the nail that sticks out. It wouldn’t hurt to be a little more careful in the future. I’m sure we’ll meet again, Maki.”
Before I can respond, the person in front of me, wrapped in purple cloth—a Herald of the Santro Territory—disappears without leaving a trace. I can’t sense even the slightest remnant of his spatial mana or his Imra. He erased every possible clue.
There are many things I need to think about, but first I look at the man lying on the ground. A black sword appears in the air, descends at tremendous speed, and pierces straight through his chest and his cube.
“I’m so tired.” My body collapses to the ground as soon as I finish the job. My legs no longer respond, and my vision grows slightly blurry.