“Noble village chief, what was the sound earlier?!”
“Nothing to worry about anymore, I assure you.”
When we returned to the village, and people flocked around us—or rather, around Elfeit.
“Calm yourselves, everyone.” Just a wave of his hand seemed to ease the nervous crowd. “Yes, the alarm you heard earlier signaled a monster attack. It was the spawn of the monster that attacked the village all those years ago, but there is no need to worry. It has been slain at the hands of this human. The wounded have been fully healed thanks to Filia’s recovery magic.”
With the explanation out of the way, Elfeit turned to me. “As village chief, I must offer you my thanks.”
“Nah, no need to thank me. What I’d like is for you to listen to Filia.” Filia had been interrupted before, after all, after hyping herself all day for this. I was sure she wanted to get everything out of the way as soon as possible.
The village leader nodded. “Very well… Let’s talk.”
Filia, facing Elfeit directly, full of resolve, bowed and opened her mouth to speak. “Noble village chief…please restore my abilities.”
But maybe she bowed too quick, because Elfeit replied at once. “Unacceptable. Are you trying to sully the name of our Almighty Wind God?”
Filia choked up, falling silent. In her place, Elgis and Fira stepped in and bowed to Elfeit.
“Please, noble village chief!” said Elgis.
“Please, restore this girl’s abilities to her!” said Fira.
The people of the village looked shaken when Filia’s parents joined in. The very idea of defying the village chief shocked them. Even Elfeit looked down at them with a slightly surprised look. “Surely…surely you two understand what you’re asking me, don’t you?”
They didn’t answer. They simply kept their heads down.
“Dad, Mom…oh, noble village chief, please listen to us!” Filia bowed once again.
But Elfeit was firm. He didn’t even move. A stalemate.
“Come on, isn’t it all right to just give them back?” said a voice in the crowd. Just a villager, someone who’d gathered in response to the emergency. But at his words, a ripple ran through the crowd, like a stone had been tossed into the water.
“Yeah,” said another. “they saved the village. If she asks you a favor…”
Another: “She helped us working in the fields. Besides, those abilities are hers, right? We should let Filia do what she wants!”
“Yeah! If Filia says she wants them back, wouldn’t it be good to give them to her? My husband was on guard—she saved his life with her recovery magic!”
The stream of support became a great river, and now no one could stop it. Everyone—everyone in the entire village—spoke up, voicing their agreement.
“All of you…” muttered Elfeit.
The village leader shook his head.
“Well, I suppose that even if I refused, no one would listen. Very well,” said Elfeit, sounding defeated. Then he turned away from us and declared to everyone in the village: “Filia Windia. I will permit you to regain your ‘Wind God’ and ‘Clairvoyance’ abilities.”
That was it, then: In that moment, Filia had accomplished what she’d set out to do by returning to this village.
Good for her! I felt a little useless, but that was fine. I really just wanted to congratulate her for settling this on her own.
“Th-thank you very much!” Filia stammered.
Elfeit nodded, still standing with his back to her. “The magical tool we used to seal away your abilities has been kept at the shrine. Elgis knows where it is. He can accompany you.”
Filia nodded. She and Elgis readied to go amidst a joyous crowd. Everyone raised their voices to congratulate Filia, when suddenly—
“Huh?!” Elfeit roared. “What in the world is that?!”
I scanned the surroundings, but I couldn’t sense anything particularly unusual. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t—?!” Elfeit shook his head. “Something’s coming!”
“What?” And finally, I felt it too. “I see!”
About a hundred meters away, an unusually concentrated power blazed like a sun to my senses—probably someone’s magical energy. And it was getting closer and closer to the village. It was strong, probably even stronger than that majin I’d faced.
It didn’t feel natural, not like a monster. It gave off this kind of thick, murky aura, emanating with the meaningless slaughter of countless innocents. It was him. It had to be.
The man of Sinmarch. “Crazy Face” Misery Mosery.
“I’m going. Filia, get your folks out of here and take shelter.” Talk about bad timing. Ugh, couldn’t he have waited till after Filia’s big moment? “All of you, scram! He’s coming!”
The elves ran, taking refuge from the oncoming presence. Elfeit and I ran through the crowd, against the flow, until at last we were confronted with the source of this enormous mass of power, the slaughtering presence.
“Nice to meet you, heathens,” said the tall man. A revolting mask adorned his face. It was a deep, scarlet red, carved with an expression of perfect agony. A scent wafted through the air from the mask, and I knew it wasn’t dye, but blood. The blood of dozens. Maybe hundreds.
“Who are you?” demanded Elfeit.
“Oh? I suppose an elf who chooses such a remote little hidey-hole wouldn’t know of me. Please allow me to introduce myself: I am Misery Mosery, a humble follower of the Great Dark God. Some charming people call me ‘Crazy Face.’”
“Irrelevant. What is your business in this village?”
“Hm? That should be obvious. You see, I am here to slaughter heathens. My dogma demands my hatred, you see, of those with pale skin and long ears. I speak of a purge. I speak of a purification of filthy blood, stained by your heretical religion. Oh, what’s wrong? You aren’t worried, are you? Come now, won’t you respect my doctrines? Petty, meaningless slaughter is the creed of my Great Dark God, and I am but a good little sheep.”
“Silence, young fool. You’ve insulted the Almighty Wind God. Do you expect to live? Your life will be cut short before you can offer a word of repentance.”
Tension hung and grew as the two glared sharply at one another.
Which, come on! What was I, chopped liver?