Chapter 39: True Intention (4)

The sun was just rising at dawn. Nike was crouched under the bushes, half-dozing.

Then he sensed footsteps from afar. The provocative yet precise stride could only be Vigo’s.

“Dawn!”

Nike jolted up as though having a seizure. For once, the timing was exact.

He hastily touched his arm. The arm that had been cut off had only just finished regenerating.

Because it had only just healed, there was no mana left.

In this state, he couldn't hope to endure against Vigo. Even when he was at his best, Vigo was an insurmountable wall.

The only good news was that the poison had nearly been purged.

His fingers were moving decently again, and his mana had started to circulate, even if faintly. By the time Vigo arrived, some mana would have gathered.

Nike hated running and hiding. His beastly nature honed from a lifetime of hunting, would not allow evasion or retreat.

In any case, unless he showed Vigo what he wanted, the man would never stop. He would chase Nike to the ends of the earth if needed.

In that case, it was better to show him clearly.

To show him what Nike had realized.

Nike clenched and opened his fist. He pushed mana into his palm, condensing energy there.

The mana moved exactly as he wished.

Good. That much was enough.

Nike slipped out of the bushes, readying to hunt. From this point, he would turn the tables and become the hunter.

Not long after, the relentless pursuer appeared.

He traced Nike’s tracks as he walked slowly. He had come at dawn, just when Nike had regained some strength but his mana was still unstable.

It was a hunt carried out with thorough calculation. Vigo was deliberately driving Nike toward fighting without relying on regeneration.

‘Now then, show me. Show me what you realized during the night.’

Humming expectantly, he walked on.

Sssht.

As though reading his thoughts, the sound of grass rustling came.

Something darted swiftly over his head. Nike’s footsteps. He was leaping between trees like a monkey, scattering Vigo’s attention.

Vigo smirked.

So this was his plan? It was rather cute.

‘Did you think such tricks would fool me?’

Of course not. Nike clearly knew Vigo’s level.

Then means what he is currently aiming for is…

A fleeting moment of contempt at Nike, of letting his guard down.

― !

Before the thought was finished, a figure rushed at him. A red dot trailed like lightning.

Vigo reacted quickly. He instantly stretched out his hand into the air, summoning the scythe of shadow.

The trajectory was straight.

A direct, honest assault, without variation.

‘This is disappointing.’

Despite last night’s ordeal, nothing had changed. To charge headlong, trusting only in regeneration.

Clicking his tongue, Vigo swung the scythe mercilessly.

—Or that was what he thought.

The scythe vanished in midair. More precisely, the blade dispersed.

How?

It was because of warped space.

A fist thrust forward.

From the twisted space, the fist emerged on an unpredictable path.

As Vigo instinctively bent his neck to dodge, the fist multiplied endlessly.

Two, four, eight, sixteen.

All blind spots vanished.

It couldn't be dodged.

…And he couldn’t.  

Was he going to die?

No, he didn't die.

Vigo could only widen his eyes, staring at Nike’s fist pressing against the tip of his nose.

“Im…pressive.”

“Hunt. Success!”

* * *

Thwack!

Vigo hooked Nike’s foot, tripping him. Nike fell flat, groaning and glaring at him with resentful eyes.

“If you’re going to hunt, finish the job. Did you think touching a wolf’s nose would make it roll over like a pet?”

“Argh! Swindler!”

Nike slumped with a sigh. He had landed a blow, but he had no strength left to move.

Vigo rubbed the tip of his nose as he looked at Nike grumbling.

‘He truly got me at that time.’

Had Nike not stopped, his facial bones would have been shattered.

It had been hard to react to the unexpected twist, and Vigo admitted he had underestimated him...

But that attack had been frighteningly sharp.

It had exceeded anything Vigo expected.

If Nike had realized anything, Vigo thought it would be to reinforce his body to avoid injury entirely, or to try telekinesis.

Instead, Nike had shown spatial distortion.

‘What a monster. He reached what a witch of Baal’s level would spend a lifetime researching in just one night, no, a few hours.’

Reached was not even the right word.

He simply did it, because he wished to.

There had been no barrier to performing magic for him.

‘Crazy bastard…’

Vigo realized anew how terrifying this boy was.

That simple, foolish boy’s potential was beyond imagination.

“Well done. From now on, keep hunting that way. Kill efficiently without getting hurt. Remember, it’s a weapon only you can wield.”

“Brain. Hunt.”

“Exactly. A human must always use their head.”

Vigo tapped his own head, echoing Nike.

“You have a sharp mind and many weapons, don’t you? Hm? Like just now… even dirty tricks are fair game.”

Nike looked as if his excitement had faded entirely. The words left him no will to reply.

“Meat…”

He was hungry, sleepy, and his body felt heavy.

Vigo sighed at the sight, though his expression was bright. Contrary to his worries, Nike was far more capable than he had thought.

To be exact, he was closer to a predator. Trying to put a leash around his neck was to court death.

Vigo’s expectations boiled hotter than ever.

Forming the shadow scythe once more, he spoke.

“Now, get up. Round two begins.”

“Hah?”

“The wilds are merciless.”

Whoosh!

* * *

Nike was furious to his core.

Vigo had poisoned his food, tried to kill him.

Then the next day, he shared meals again, went to the stream to play in the water.

He hunted with him, taught him herbs and poisons like a kind teacher.

But then, while he slept, Vigo stuck him with poisoned darts and tried to assassinate him again.

And when Nike thought it was over, he would attack again without giving him a chance to rest.

Nike couldn't tell if Vigo was a good person or a bad one.

If not for the fact that Vigo had once treated him more like a human than anyone else, Nike would have killed him long ago and taken his head.

But at some point, Nike realized that when fighting Vigo, he was using magic.

Blowing up the scythe with telekinesis, distorting blades that were otherwise unavoidable.

Exposed to threats, he had no choice but to use magic, and before long, it became natural.

Compared to the first day, the number of times his limbs were severed had dropped significantly.

It was clear progress.

Adding just a bit of reason to his brutish combat amazed even himself.

‘Magic.’

It was not that Nike lacked awareness, just that he didn't care to use it.

Vigo’s brutal training had indeed worked.

‘True master…!’

But then he remembered how the man had broken his leg while he slept, swinging the scythe down at him. He shook his head again at the thought.

That was not training. That was just violence, torture, bullying.

Vigo was clearly venting stress on him!

“No! Contract broken!”

On the fourth day, Nike finally snapped, declaring he would descend the mountain first.

“I’m leaving first!”

“What are you saying? I was about to go down too.”

Vigo stretched casually, passing him. Nike stood frozen, staring blankly.

At that moment, for the first time, Nike felt the urge to kill.

“Uwaaaah!”

He burst into a howl of rage, leaping down the mountain like a beast.

The wind blew past Vigo’s back. Watching Nike rush off, he laughed.

‘He’s learned enough. He’s become useful now.’

Then Vigo collapsed onto the ground. A wave of dizziness hit him hard.

Though he had acted strong in front of Nike, his accumulated fatigue was at its limit. His wounds he got from Nike still ached. His fingertips had been numb for days.

Even humanity’s peak had its limits.

That was why, even after centuries, humans couldn't defeat witches.

Humans had limits.

Witches didn't.

And Nike didn't know what limits were.

Vigo, feeling his limits, gave a bitter smile.

“I have no choice but to bet everything on that brat…”

At the foot of the mountain, Rowen was waiting. She waved warmly at Nike.

“Nike! How was the walk? Was it nice?”

“Walk? Nice?”

Nike suddenly recalled why he had climbed the mountain.

“...Swindler!”

“Yoo, Rowen. Is everything ready?”

The swindler was already coming down behind him.

Nike flinched at the sudden voice, turning to look. He had run down quickly, yet somehow Vigo had caught up.

“Yes, master. Just as you instructed, I finished preparing for the expedition. I also sent requests for support to other Orders operating near Banyaksenir.”

Rowen answered eagerly.

‘Backpack…?’

Nike noticed Rowen’s outfit was unusual. He also belatedly realized there were two extra loads beside her.

“Well done.”

Vigo nodded. He slung one of the packs over his shoulder.

“We depart immediately.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to rest?”

“I’m still in my prime.”

“…Oh, okay!”

The two started walking straight away, heading into the fields.

They didn't return to Vilnogos for rest or a feast of meat.

It was straight to the mission.

A long expedition to a faraway place at that.

Nike’s head was filled with questions. Confused, he only watched their backs.

“Meat…?”

“Nike! If you don’t come, we’ll leave you! Hurry up!”

“Swindlers!”

* * *

After graduation, Nike received his first official mission.

The mission was to infiltrate Banyaksenir, the headquarters of the Golden Dawn Society, and gather evidence that they had instigated the Witch of Distortion to attack the Order.

Of course, that was only the stated reason.

In truth, the real goal was to uncover why the Golden Dawn was targeting Nike, what their true objective was, and to bring back every piece of information possible.

It was essentially a declaration of war from the Silver Blades Order to the Golden Dawn.

For ages, there had been an uneasy balance between witches, witch hunters, and the Golden Dawn. Now cracks were forming.

At the center of it all was the mysterious boy Nike.

Nike had caused the fracture.

“Cooperation?”

After several days of marching, sleeping on roadsides, and transferring between carriages, Nike’s group arrived at a small, remote village far from Vilnogos.

At the village’s only shabby little eatery, they ate lunch while waiting for someone.

“Yes. For this mission, we’ll be working together with the Order of the Scales. We arranged to meet them here.”

That was Rowen’s reply when Nike asked why they hadn’t left after eating.

They were waiting for someone. The witch hunters not of the Silver Blades, but another Order.

“The Scales Order. I learned that.”

He remembered hearing once in class.

Beneath the Hall of the City God, there were three Orders.

Order of the Sacred Iron Chains. Order of the Scales. Order of the Silver Blades.

Today, they were meeting someone from the Scales Order, operating in Banyaksenir.

“Do you know who’s coming?”

Vigo asked, setting down his water glass.

“All I know is they sent someone to investigate the Golden Dawn’s movements. Everything else is classified. It makes sense, given the mission.”

“Mm.”

Rowen double-checked the mission document. Since the identity of witch hunters had to remain hidden, there were no details written.

“A beautiful investigator would be nice.”

“Meat.”

Vigo smoked, staring out the window. Rowen stared at the two with a blank expression, then shook her head.

As Vigo finished his cigarette, he frowned at the view outside.

“Damn. Unlucky."

“Huh?”

A moment later, the door to the eatery opened. A person in clear hunter garb stepped inside. His gender was unmistakably male.

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