“It’s a bit late to ask...” I said, “but is that thing a named monster?”
“Yes. Id Invicius,” Surena said. “It’s a phantom named monster. Its existence has been proven...but there have never been any real eyewitness accounts of it.”
“I see...”
I’d never heard the name, of course. Normally, if something like that was throwing its weight around, it would immediately be discovered. The fact that there were no eyewitness accounts meant that it remained invisible at all times.
“Haaah...”
I let out a long sigh. I knew it. I had an unpleasant history with this particular monster.
As a younger swordsman, I’d often ignored useful information, like how dangerous opponents or environments could be. I’d only wanted to see how far my blade could take me. The very definition of youthful indiscretion... But then, in the mountains near Beaden, I’d met with a fierce monster. It’d beaten me black and blue, and I’d been forced to scuttle back home in a panic. Thinking back on it now, I’d been extremely reckless. I’d overestimated my abilities and had charged into the Aflatta Mountain Range without a team or any preliminary investigation. My swordsmanship had also been quite immature compared to now. It was honestly still surprising that I’d made it back alive—I’d gotten tremendously lucky.
“That thing has probably been prowling the Aflatta Mountain Range for a long time,” I said.
“That’s the current theory...” Surena confirmed. “You’re well informed.”
“Not really. I’m just guessing.”
Once that thing began tugging on the string of my memories, it was impossible to stop thinking about it. I’d had a chance meeting with Id Invicius before—a long time ago, during my youth.
It was a bitter memory—a black stain on my past that I didn’t want to think about. I honestly didn’t remember how many years ago it’d happened. I knew it was before my dad had yielded the seat of head instructor to me, so I had to have been younger than twenty. Back then, I’d gotten cocky. I’d built up plenty of confidence because although I hadn’t been able to beat my dad, I’d pretty much never lost against my juniors and seniors who’d been learning swordplay alongside me.
A part of me had believed that I had to be strong. Looking back on it now, I’d been utterly impertinent. Spurred on by self-assurance, I’d gone on a search to see how far my blade could take me.
I’d accompanied my dad on the saberboar hunts back then too, so I’d been familiar with a small portion of the Aflatta Mountain Range. That had played a big role in my reckless decision—even though saberboars only inhabited the foot of the mountains or the shallow mountainsides at most.
My eyes had always been good. Even if I’d had a long way to go in polishing my swordplay, my dad had always acknowledged my eyesight—and only my eyesight. For some reason, the one thing I’d had trouble following was his blade. Everything else I’d been able to see perfectly. That was probably why I’d overestimated my own abilities. As long as I could see a foe, even if I couldn’t win, I could always run away. That was what I’d believed.
It was hard to claim that I’d matured completely since then, but I’d definitely grown up. That was why I knew better now—I’d relied on my eyesight back then but had possessed nothing else to rely on. I’d been somewhat similar to how the knight Evans was now. Due to my good eyes, I’d depended on doing everything reflexively.
Most strong swordsmen had good eyes, but having good eyes didn’t make you a strong swordsman. My chance encounter with Id Invicius had drilled that harsh reality into my mind.
Looking back on it now, I didn’t remember anything about there being no signs of life around the monster’s territory. I only recalled being utterly toyed with, left on the verge of death, and crawling my way back home. I’d definitely gotten lucky. In a normal fight, I would’ve died on the spot, but I’d managed to get away and avoid any fatal wounds.
I probably didn’t intrude too far into its territory. Back then, I hadn’t possessed the backbone to stand up and fight defiantly after taking a hit like the one it’d dealt me. I hadn’t even been able to get a good look at the thing. And frankly, had I possessed such spirit, my life would probably have ended in the middle of the mountains on that day. I’d never expected to get a glimpse of that possibility so many years after that fact.
At any rate, the situation now was very different from back then. I couldn’t leave Surena’s team and run away—that would’ve been an option only if they had been wiped out before my arrival.
As I ruminated over my bitter memories, I muttered, “A troublesome foe...”
“Yes, I couldn’t agree more,” Surena replied. She likely had a much different perspective on this situation than I did.
Until its attack, I hadn’t seen it as anything more than a formidable foe, but now, it really felt like something I would have a hard time dealing with. That negative mindset was unexpectedly unyielding and troublesome. I didn’t need to doubt myself before a clash to the death—that would make winning even harder.
While the current situation was different, that same self-doubt was why I hadn’t been able to beat my dad for so long. I was subconsciously telling myself that I had no chance, preventing me from drawing out my full strength.
I’d definitely grown since then and developed some confidence. I also now had a very important reason not to lose. Regardless, I couldn’t wipe my anxiety from my mind completely. Just can’t do anything about that. That said, I couldn’t stop just because anxiety tormented me. I had to raise the odds of all of us getting back alive in any way I could.
“Did it ambush you guys like this before?” I asked.
“Yes...” Surena confirmed. “It took our seeker with the first attack. After that, we retreated while I covered Pau and Pisces, but I couldn’t keep them safe...”
“So it never attacks multiple times in succession.”
“It seems that way.”
The important detail to focus on was that Id Invicius didn’t attack continuously. Frankly, even without the boon of being able to turn invisible and erase its presence, the attack I’d blocked had been dreadful. I didn’t know how fast it was, since I hadn’t been able to see it until right before the attack had landed, but it possessed tremendous strength.
With such power and its huge frame, you’d think it would have no need to be wary of any opponents. Just earlier, I’d somehow managed to block the first attack and had been sent flying through the air. Pisces and Pauford had taken cover on the ground. We’d been full of openings to exploit. Surena had been in a position to make a move, but there’d been more than enough time for the monster to launch a second strike.
Strategically, the monster needed to both reduce enemy numbers and finish off its prey—thus, if I were Id Invicius, I would’ve definitely made sure to take out at least one target. It was strong enough to pull that off.
But it hadn’t come in for the kill. That very fact backed the theory that Id Invicius was a scaredy-cat. A part of me refused to believe that this was all there was to it, though. Regardless, it was a bad idea to rely entirely on theory when strategizing. We could only be informed by our observations, and we had to avoid arbitrarily deciding that anything was fact.
“Anyway, we know one of its approaches,” I told the others. “Let’s keep alert and continue our descent.”
“Right!”
“We’re counting on you,” Pisces said. “You’re literally our last ray of hope.”
Our formation remained the same. I took the front, Surena the back, and Pisces was between us. Much like my time in the Aflatta Mountain Range with Henblitz and Curuni, no matter how much of a hurry we were in, it was impossible to run as fast in the mountains as you could on an even surface. Slipping and falling wouldn’t be a huge deal for me, but it could be fatal for Pisces and Pauford. We definitely wanted to avoid such a foolish end after coming so far. I tried to go as fast as possible, but I also needed to make sure not to outpace those behind me. It was pretty nerve-racking.
I would’ve loved to have kept this up, to have never met the monster again—I just wanted to make it out of the mountains safely. However, I had a premonition that things weren’t likely to go that well, and an anxious part of my brain yelled at me that things were definitely going to go wrong.
Though my premonition was correct, my anxieties were unfounded. It was proof—even if losing to Id Invicius before hadn’t left lasting trauma, I had a hard time dealing with it. Say, for example, that this had been my first time seeing the monster—I would’ve wanted Id Invicius to attack at least one more time (as long as it didn’t deal me a death blow, of course). Man, where does that thought even come from?