Chapter 32: Kraken (2)

The kraken. A famous sea monster. It would probably rank among the ten most powerful monsters people know.

The kraken that occasionally appears in literature usually takes the form of an enormous octopus or squid. Its appearance in the game Etius is much the same.

The biggest difference between the kraken in Etius and its real-world counterpart?

The kraken is not a single “individual.”

The kraken is a soul.

“It suits you. Is that your real name?”

“Oh, my. Of course not.”

Kraken answered with feigned innocence, but I found myself thinking that this Kraken might really be the creature of legend. The kraken was a monster of the deep sea—in other words, a monster from the far reaches of the Outside, from humanity’s perspective. Both its intelligence and its abilities were on an entirely different level from those of lesser monsters.

But before dwelling on that, I looked at Gregory, still caught in its grip.

... He would die soon if I left him like that.

Menosorpo, Weaving in Midair

Grade - Legendary

Gram

I “placed” Gram behind its tentacle and spun it in a vertical circle.

SLICE

“... Oh, my?”

Gregory fell to the floor, coughing incessantly. Apparently, he wasn’t dead yet. Kraken stared blankly at its severed arm. Its appearance had made me wonder, and sure enough, it seemed unable to feel pain.

“What? How did you do that?”

“I cut it.”

“But weapons can’t cut my tentacles?”

So it seemed, judging by Gregory’s earlier flailing. But I was a little different. Weaving was magic, after all.

I had simply cut it with “magic.”

“I’m asking how you did it.”

“You don’t need to know.”

And I couldn’t let it find out, either.

“Consider this a warning. The moment you touch Gregory, I’ll take your head off.”

“... Hmm.”

Kraken’s lips curled upward. It probably thought my threat was ninety percent bluff. But it didn’t know how its arm had been severed. Until it had the answer, it wouldn’t act rashly.

The same went for me. Enemies could see my Weaving in Midair when I used Menosorpo. That had only worked because I’d placed the sword outside its field of vision. One small mistake, and it would catch on immediately.

... More importantly, I was running low on mana. Would I get a chance to eat the Dragon Heart?

“Fine. There’s no need to kill this little nobody anyway. I’ve got what I need.”

With that, Kraken raised a hand holding a stack of business cards and a recorder. It spread the cards out in a fan.

“Wow, there’s still a whole stack left after he used so many. Did Serf want to conquer the world with his business cards?”

“Maybe he really could?” Kraken chuckled, babbling to itself. Then it addressed me.

“Don’t worry. Serf Daniel will live on in our hearts.”

“What are you going to use those for?”

Kraken smiled at my question. It was the same unpleasant smile as before.

“To kill you.”

“...”

“On the most perfect day, in the most perfect place, I’ll kill you, good sir, my dear. Today isn’t that day, though. There’s a time for everything. Just wait.”

An announcement of murder, then.

From Indus’s perspective, I probably wasn’t much as an individual. What they stood to gain by killing me was likely symbolic. The symbolism of Roach. My father, Angper de Roah, wielded more individual influence than any other noble.

... Perhaps they meant to make me the opening signal of Indus’s revolution.

“Still, leaving just like this would be a shame. And there’s the price of my right arm to consider.”

Kraken walked backward as it spoke, then sat on the steps at the far end of the auditorium.

“Shall I enjoy the show?”

“... What?”

Just then, the door creaked open. The person who entered was our Basic Combat Skills teacher, Pascal Schiltz.

“...!”

Pascal strode toward me, a sword already in his hand.

“This wasn’t my doing~ But my senses are sharp, you see. I can at least tell when someone’s coming~”

I watched Pascal tensely. The effects of Serf’s business cards hadn’t worn off yet. That must have been why Pascal was approaching me with a sword.

“... Pascal.”

I called his name, clinging to a faint hope.

But then—

WHOOSH

Pascal casually swung his sword around him. Concentric rings of windlike energy spread outward, and a transparent membrane rose around the two of us.

Fabrication, Black River

Grade - Common

Workshop Dagger No. 1

I broke my necklace to form a dagger and threw it at the membrane as a test. It bounced off with a crackle. Pascal had trapped me inside this space.

“Wow, now it really does look like a sparring arena.”

‘Shut the hell up, Kraken.’

I drew Neil Jacques’s Short Sword and took my stance. The blade in Pascal’s hand shone. Aura. Seeing it made my head swim.

I’d barely managed to deflect the aura he’d formed barehanded. How long could I last this time? And now, he wasn’t even playing around.

Fabrication, Black River

Grade - Unique

Neil Jacques’s Short Sword

The Black River I’d thrown as a dagger flowed back into my hand. I gripped Neil Jacques’s Short Sword in both hands. Right now, it was the only thing I had that could withstand Pascal’s attacks for any length of time.

SWISH

BOOM

“Gnh...!”

I barely blocked Pascal’s descending sword. I’d tried to dodge, but there hadn’t been time. A grating screech pierced my ears as I gritted my teeth and held on with trembling arms.

The contest of strength continued. Our blades shifted angle little by little, but remained locked together.

‘If our blades stay locked like this...’

His last strike had been too fast for me to respond properly. But if we stayed locked together, I had a way.

‘Falling Tension.’

“...!”

I used Falling Tension to send Pascal’s sword flying into the air. This time, it worked perfectly. I hadn’t lost my own sword, and my body didn’t hurt.

The instant I thought I’d done it—

THUD

“Gah!”

A kick struck me in the stomach and sent me sliding backward. In that time, Pascal caught his airborne sword again.

That fluid movement, that response. Pascal knew Atzier’s Falling Tension. No, had he been on the receiving end of it before?

TAP

Pascal charged at me again. Another vertical slash from above. As I blocked it, I felt something strangely off.

The reason I’d struggled to block Pascal’s attacks in class was their bewildering intricacy. They were difficult to react to. He might have been playing around, but I’d felt like I was dying. Eventually, he’d found an opening, leaving me no choice but to use Weaving.

But this Pascal was different. His attacks couldn’t have been simpler, followed by a contest of strength. It wasn’t like him at all.

What was going on? Was this the business card’s influence? Could he only manage simple attacks because he was unconscious?

Then, as our blades scraped against each other in our contest of strength, Pascal opened his mouth. No sound came out, but his lips moved.

They said, “Can you read lips, Frondier?”

“...!”

I activated Weaving at once. After leveling up, Weaving could now target even skills. The problem was that I couldn’t store skills in the Workshop. In other words, the only way to weave a skill was to copy it in real time while someone else used it.

Just like now.

Fabrication

Target, ‘Pascal Schiltz’

Skill, ‘Lip Reading’

And I opened my mouth.

[“You weren’t being controlled?”]

Pascal’s eyes flickered slightly when I moved my lips.

[“No. I was pretending because I need to catch that octopus.”]

[“Didn’t you receive a business card? I would have given you one if I were Gregory.”]

Pascal knocked my sword aside, then swung a couple more times, clashing blades with me again. Every strike followed a path I could respond to.

[“I did receive one.”]

[“Then how?”]

Shouldn’t receiving a card have subjected him to the control? No matter how strong his will, he couldn’t be completely unaffected.

Pascal answered my question.

[“I received it, but I forgot who it was from.”]

[“...”]

What an utterly shameless answer.

[“This is perfect, Frondier. Let’s not waste this time.”]

[“What do you mean?”]

At my question, Pascal stepped back. His position left his back to Kraken, meaning it couldn’t see his mouth.

[“Frondier.”]

Pascal moved his lips, his eyes somehow sparkling.

[“Let’s learn aura. Right here.”]

... At that moment, I thought Pascal was crazier than Kraken.

* * *

Quinier sat in a classroom, clutching her head. She was one of the people who hadn’t received a business card. Though she had no connection to the rumors about Frondier, she too was the subject of a recent rumor, so the cards hadn’t reached her.

But unlike the stories about Frondier, hers wasn’t something people could discuss for fun.

[Quinier de Biet has an extreme phobia of corpses.]

That sentence on the magical notice.

‘... They found out.’

An extreme fear of corpses. A weakness no Constel student could afford to have. Of course, nobody liked corpses, but Quinier’s fear was on an entirely different level.

Plenty of people must have seen that notice by now. Her head was already throbbing.

‘Whoever the bastard is, they’re certainly well informed.’

Quinier bit her lip. Outside, the commotion was still in full swing. Something seemed to have happened to the students. Something about having to kill Frondier.

There were an incredible number of them, but the handful of students holding them back were so powerful that they were somehow maintaining a balance.

Yet Quinier couldn’t readily help Frondier. She was more than willing to help him. Her desire to build a good relationship with him hadn’t changed.

But the moment she saw the unconscious students’ faces, she froze solid.

Their faces looked exactly like those of corpses.

‘... Pathetic.’

They weren’t even real corpses, yet she couldn’t move simply because their faces looked like those of the dead. She felt utterly pathetic.

But perhaps this was her chance to overcome her trauma.

The students weren’t actually corpses. No, they were nowhere near dead. They were merely unconscious. If she faced them, surely the day would come when she could look at a corpse without flinching.

“... All right.”

Quinier stood. Right now, the students were focused solely on Frondier. As long as she didn’t interfere, she should be safe too.

Her mind made up, she walked over and boldly flung open the classroom door.

“... Huh?”

Another girl stood right before her.

It was Quinier’s friend, Anne.

Anne stood there with the face of a corpse.