“Grah! Splendid work...”
“Despite everything, I’m an S-Rank. I’m not going to lose so easily,” Percival said with a dry laugh.
Duncan smiled self-deprecatingly and hoisted his axe up again. “I need to train myself more... Are you going to settle in Turnera, Sir Percival?”
“No, I plan to go on a journey one of these days. Well, I’ll be around until the dungeon and the guild are established at least.”
“Hmm... You’re a natural-born adventure-seeker, I see. You strive for it.”
“Well, there’s that... But there’s something I need to slay no matter what.”
Duncan looked at him curiously. “By that, you mean...the creature that took Sir Bell’s leg?”
“Yeah. Our life right now is pretty nice, don’t get me wrong... But I can’t bear the thought that that thing is still out there, living without a care. Bell’s not so keen on it, but this is one thing I won’t back down on. I was the one who caused it all to happen, so I have to be the one to settle the score.” Percival clenched his fist before sighing deeply and expelling the tension from his body with that exhaled breath. “Though that’s some ways into the future.”
And I’m curious about Lady Winter’s warning too, Percival thought, yawning.
Duncan folded his arms. “Speaking for myself... I can’t even imagine having something I detest so much.”
“Ha ha... You’re better off that way. A lot happier too. Now then, I should be heading back. By the way, didn’t Hannah tell you to do something?”
Duncan’s eyes suddenly widened at the reminder. “That’s right! I must return and help with her sanding! Pardon me!” he shouted, already running off.
Percival chuckled. “Seems like all those married men are kept pretty busy... Now, then...” It was time for him to return too. If I don’t at least take care of chopping the wood, Kasim will tease me over it, and Satie will get on my case too. Or, I could play with the kids...
Percival treasured these moments, but beneath it all, his dark fixation on vengeance still smoldered. He knew nothing good could come of it, but he didn’t have it in him to put it aside—not after so many long years of fighting for nothing else but to find and kill that fiend. But for now, it was time to prepare for winter. He couldn’t enact his vengeance if he froze to death first.
Percival’s cape flared behind him in the breeze that blew down upon him from the mountain as he went on his way.
○
Angeline was left in wide-eyed alarm as she was subjected to the scorching heat of a sudden gust of wind. The craggy landscape around her was illuminated by crimson light, but it was seemingly night, and the sky was dark. The light source seemed to be cracks in the earth through which the red light was visible.
She heard a bizarre sound like a cross between the rumbling of an earthquake and a roar. Smoke billowed up from below the sheer cliffs to either side of her. The noxious fumes belched up from the earth appeared monstrous in the red light from below, lingering in the air without dissipating and obscuring her vision.
Angeline felt a sharp jolt from below which resonated from her toes to the top of her head. Her gaze was drawn upward again—beyond the red light and dark smoke, she could see something moving. Her hand went for her sword, but it wasn’t strapped to her belt. She pressed onward through the smoke, her heart racing. She gingerly reached out to feel her way along the rocky cliff beside her, only to pull back in shock—what she had thought was a cliff had actually been the corpse of a small dragon, its black scales glistening in the red light.
On closer inspection, she realized the entire area was littered with these corpses—each of them small but unmistakably a member of the species that stood near the highest tiers of all fiends. Each corpse bore the wounds of a sword; their scales, which should have rivaled hefty plate armor, had been mercilessly carved up or brutally pierced and crushed. There were no signs that long-range magic or arrows had been involved.
Even Angeline had never taken on this number of dragons at once. She didn’t think she would ever lose against a dragon, but there was still strength in numbers—it would be dangerous if she let her guard down for even a second against this many foes. Weaving her way through the dead dragons, she cautiously pressed on. The farther she went, the more closely the corpses were packed together, and she began to see conspicuously larger corpses. For a second she wondered if there were any survivors—it didn’t seem to be the case.
Suddenly, a roar rippled through the air, forcing her to cover her ears. A blast of hot wind blew away all the smoke that had shrouded her vision to reveal a massive dragon. Its entire body was covered in pitch-black scales, and its eyes glowed red.
Before it, there stood a man of solid build with curly, flaxen hair that swayed in the wind. It was Percival. As soon as Angeline’s gaze fell upon him, she was filled with immense helplessness, anger, sorrow, and hatred, causing her to clasp her hands over her chest. These emotions aren’t mine, she realized. Does that mean that Percival’s emotions are flooding into me?
“It wasn’t you... Not you either...” Percival muttered softly.
A closer look showed Percival had been put through the wringer. A trickle of blood flowed down from his brow, his cape was torn off, and his armor was dented; his left arm was bent in a direction it shouldn’t have been, and more blood dribbled from his fingertips.
“Why can’t any of you kill me? How about you, then...?” Percival pointed at a dragon with the sword in his right hand. The dragon was missing an eye, and there were cuts running down its body. Blood seeped out from the places where several of its scales had been broken off. The beast seemed to be enraged.
Angeline shuddered. Why do you have to fight until your body’s almost falling apart?
“That’s enough... Let’s end this. This is already... Ah, dammit. These wounds, these aren’t enough...” Percival clicked his tongue bitterly.
The dragon howled in distress. As a being of absolute might, it had probably never been in such dire straits before. It didn’t seem to fully comprehend its predicament, but its remaining eye blazed with anger.
✦ ✦ ✦
The dragon bared its fangs and launched itself at Percival, who did not back down a single step—instead, he sallied forth to meet it. Sword and fang clashed with an explosive burst of mana. Percival did not attempt to defend himself—he used his crooked left arm as though it weren’t injured at all as he raced forth in his vicious offensive. The dragon was gradually being pushed back by his tempestuous attacks, seemingly fearful to be faced with a man with such little regard for his own injuries. Percival’s sword should have been nothing more than a toothpick to such a beast, yet it easily cut through the otherwise impenetrable scales, flesh, and bones. This was no battle between dragon and man—it was a fight between a dragon and a monster in the guise of a man.
Angeline felt nothing when fighting fiends—it was perfectly natural to her and something she had done plenty of times. But a fight like this was simply miserable and wretched to witness.
Percival rained blows upon his foe. The dragon was being sliced up even as it tore into Percival with claws and fangs and scorched him with fire breath. Each time Percival was struck, Angeline would feel like she was being stabbed in the chest, and she understood that this was the suffering Percival felt. He fights while bearing this pain? Her heart was pounding.
Eventually, the black dragon was felled. The ground quaked as its massive body collapsed, and then everything was ominously silent but for the rumbling echoes of the beast’s demise. Percival’s labored breathing was amplified by the sudden stillness.
He had fought a dragon alone and won. This should have been the kind of triumph that bards would sing of, but there wasn’t an iota of joy on Percival’s face. In fact, he looked disappointed. He sat down beside the dragon’s husk and took a deep breath. His exhaustion and despair cast his face in shadow, and he looked more alone than ever before.
“No matter how many I kill...”
Suddenly, he pressed a hand to his chest. He broke into a coughing fit, shoving a hand into his breast pocket to take out his sachet and shove it against his face. For a while, he repeated this labored breathing treatment, then spat on the ground. There was blood mixed with his saliva.
He longed for salvation, but it was his own heart that would deny him of it. This internal dissonance resulted in nothing but suffering. Percival’s pain continued to flow into her, and she understood it all too well. She could even feel it in her throat.
She tried to say something, but no words would come. She tried to draw closer, but her legs wouldn’t move. There was only the pain and suffering in her heart. Gradually, the darkness deepened into impenetrable blackness obscuring all sight. The last thing she saw was Percival’s clenched fist quivering.