Arc 3: Fate Manipulation (5)

Of course, it wasn’t as though I couldn’t fight at all. Daily practice in the training room had raised my Throwing Technique from Lowest to Low. And to fully wield Gram, I had been repeatedly exhausting my mana, increasing my reserves ever so slightly.

Thanks to all that repeated mana depletion, my exhaustion had recently reached an all-time high. These days, I felt as though I really had become Frondier.

Besides, I had played the game to death, so I knew the monsters’ patterns. This was reality, so they didn’t move exactly as they did in the game, but their patterns were largely the same.

But Frondier had to remain lazy and incompetent at all times. There was something I had thought every time I played Etius as Aster. He had everything going for him, but he was too famous, and that fame came with enormous expectations. His allies naturally depended on him, while his enemies were so wary of him that rooting them out was difficult.

Frondier occupied the opposite position. No one expected anything of him, and he was exactly the sort of person an enemy would let their guard down around. There were advantages to that position.

‘And there’s Thanatos, too.’

Thanatos, the god who had tried to kill me when I first used Weaving with Black River. There was no guarantee that my bluff, bolstered by correctly naming him, would work forever. If only to avoid his notice, it was best not to stand out in this world.

Despite her disbelief, Saibel diligently dispatched the Ratmen. Meanwhile, I quietly watched her fight. Then, targeting the Ratmen in her blind spots—

Fabrication

Workshop No. 1

Grade - Common

Iron Dagger

I threw woven daggers and struck them down. Caught completely defenseless, the Ratmen dropped one after another. They were distracted by Saibel, and they couldn’t see the woven daggers to begin with. It looked as though we would finish them off easily.

‘... Huh?’

I had been counting the remaining Ratmen as we killed them when the air suddenly shimmered. Saibel didn’t seem to notice. Had I imagined it? ... No.

I quickly scanned our surroundings. Against the darkness, something rippled like a heat haze. That shimmer was rapidly approaching Saibel.

“Saibel!”

I shouted and threw a dagger, almost at the same instant the shimmer lunged at her.

“Wha—aaah!”

Hearing my voice, Saibel seemed to have barely dodged it. But she was staggering.

I approached her, throwing daggers to bring down the remaining enemies around us. I wasn’t worried about her discovering my Weaving. She had no attention to spare for watching me fight.

With a soft thump and the sound of air escaping from cloth, Saibel sank to the ground.

“Ah, ngh.”

Blood seeped through the hand she held against her abdomen. So she hadn’t completely avoided it after all. She hurriedly tried to stand, only to sink back down. I went over and examined her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed to be struggling to breathe. Her limbs merely trembled, apparently refusing to move as she intended.

“Wh-what? What’s happening?”

Saibel was panicking at the state of her body.

“It’s paralytic poison.”

“Paralytic poison?”

“Yeah. One of them has a troublesome weapon.”

“Ugh, I see. I-I’ll be okay, right?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the rest, so get some sleep. There should be a sedative mixed in, too. You’ll be fine when you wake up.”

“Ugh, I can’t... You can’t even fight...”

Despite her words, her eyes slowly closed.

In truth, the poison had no sedative effect whatsoever. This was something like hypnosis. Saibel’s dungeon expedition had been quite long today, and the traps that had gone off had drained a great deal of her mental and physical energy. She was already exhausted. If I told her the poison made her sleepy, she would simply believe me and quickly drift off.

“... All right, then.”

After making sure she was asleep, I stood. I let out a long breath and breathed deeply.

Don’t rush. An unsteady mind leads to mistakes.

Even if the poison afflicting her was deadly.

Even if the thing that had attacked her was no mere Ratman.

Even if everything I had told Saibel was riddled with lies.

Stay calm. If I pulled this off, I could turn those lies into truth.

Looking around, I saw only Ratman corpses. The creature was nowhere to be found. That didn’t make me anxious. It was simply that kind of enemy. I bit my lip.

An invisible enemy. Air rippling like a heat haze. A weapon coated in deadly poison. A “Heretic” capable of wounding Saibel, beloved by fate.

I knew what it was—and that it had no business being in a low-level dungeon like this.

Its name was Slave. Born human, it had become a monster, bound by its soul.

The most troublesome thing about Slave was that a single graze meant the end. Its blade was coated in deadly poison. I hadn’t lied when I told Saibel it was paralytic poison. It was the degree of paralysis that was different.

First, the limbs stiffened, just as Saibel had been unable to stand a moment ago. Then the internal organs slowly stiffened, and the lungs began to fail. Breathing grew painful, and as that agony reached its limit, the heart and brain finally seized up. That took about twelve hours. Before then, I had to get her out of this dungeon and to a church or hospital to have the poison neutralized.

Twelve hours might sound generous, but she could die of shock before that. The sensation of slowly dying was more than an ordinary person could bear. Even if the poison was neutralized, severe psychological scars could remain. So I had to kill this thing as quickly as possible.

“... Where are you?”

I lowered my stance and surveyed my surroundings.

Slave couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. As a spirit, it made no sound, either. Only at the moment it attacked did a faint heat haze ripple in the air. But just before it attacked Saibel, I had thrown a woven dagger at it. I hadn’t been able to confirm the hit, but judging by the trajectory, my dagger must have struck home.

The more damage Slave took, the more visible it became, as though a veil were gradually being stripped away. Like any monster, it was most dangerous at full strength. It was an immense stroke of luck that I had wounded it. Thanks to that, the shimmer that should only have appeared when it attacked was now constantly visible.

The shimmer rippled more violently. At the very instant its weapon swept toward me—

CLANG!

Its dagger collided with mine.

“Hng!”

Slave pressed its dagger against mine, apparently trying to turn this into a contest of strength. Lacking Divine Power, mana, and physical strength, I couldn’t win that contest.

Yes—if this were a contest of strength.

SLASH!

I wove a dagger in my empty hand, gripped it, and slashed its arm. Or rather, since I couldn’t see it, I swung where I guessed its arm would be.

SKREEEEE!

A piercing scream rang out. It recoiled in pain, but apparently hadn’t dropped its weapon. Had the cut been too shallow? There wasn’t much I could do when I couldn’t see it.

My left hand was still empty. From Slave’s perspective, it must have made no sense. My empty hand had slashed its arm.

‘... I can see a little more now.’

The figure of a woman in threadbare clothes—scraps of rags that barely covered anything. She staggered about, her body practically naked. But she was a ghost by nature. Her visible outline was so faint that any quick movement made me lose track of her.

Like now.

“...!”

The instant I realized I had lost sight of her, I rolled across the ground. I couldn’t afford half measures against this enemy. Even if I attacked a hundred times, a single graze from that dagger would finish me.

‘If only I had Black River!’

I had left Black River, that viscoelastic metal, at the mansion. The Artifact I had requested from Quinier hadn’t arrived yet, and I had never imagined I would encounter a monster from the Outside in a low-level dungeon.

Fabrication

Workshop No. 1

Grade - Common

Iron Dagger

I created a weapon with Weaving. A real dagger in my right hand, a woven one in my left. I had never tried dual-wielding before. My stance was hopelessly awkward. Besides, the woven dagger was unreliable. It vanished the instant it manifested in reality, so I had to deflect attacks rather than block them, then create it anew each time.

But weapon technique wasn’t important to what I was about to do. This was purely to bait Slave.

‘Will this work?’

I swallowed. The odds weren’t good. But against a ghost, a gamble like this was my only chance of winning.

Slave seemed a little wary. Between the dagger I had thrown at the start and the cut on its arm, it must have realized I held an invisible weapon. But its hesitation didn’t last long. It swung its dagger at me again.

CLANG! CLANG!

Keeping Slave’s faint outline in sight, I knocked its attacks aside with my weapons. Slave had no swordsmanship to speak of. It simply swung at speeds far beyond mine.

“Hah! Hah...!”

My flesh trembled. It felt as though every breath was damaging my lungs. I abandoned all thought of attacking and focused entirely on defense. My opponent wasn’t even using proper swordsmanship, yet every parry was dizzyingly terrifying, as though my very blood were trembling.

When its attacks failed to land, it pressed me even harder. Each time I parried that vicious blade, I heard its voice.

“I hate them.”

“I hate the gods.”

“The gods who lied to me.”

“I curse every god who condemned me to this eternal ordeal.”

Its voice brimmed with resentment and rage. Those seemed to be the only emotions it had left. Its attacks were like an outpouring of malice.

But—

“What do you want me to do about it...!”

I wasn’t a god. I wasn’t loved by the gods, either. This body had neither Divine Power nor talent. If anything, a god had nearly killed me.

CLANG!

Even deflecting its attacks was becoming too much. Was it time? I raised my right hand, dagger in its grip. Then, as I blocked its dagger, I relaxed my fingers.

CLANG!

With a resounding clang, the dagger flew from my hand. I made it look as though I had lost my grip. An empty hand without a dagger. An exposed chest. Slave was certain to take that opening.

WHOOSH!

Slave’s dagger shot straight toward me.

‘Please!’

Fabrication

Workshop No. 3

Grade - Common

Iron Shield

A shield this time. Slave would assume my invisible weapon was a dagger. After clashing with it several times, it must have deduced as much. If I had another weapon, I would have drawn it long ago. It was precisely that assumption that would make this shield work.

CLANG!

I swung the shield with all my strength, parrying Slave’s dagger with a forceful blow. My shield vanished that instant, and the dagger flew from Slave’s hand. Without it, Slave had no means of attacking. A spirit couldn’t exert physical force, so that dagger was its only weapon.

SKREEEE!

With an eerie scream, Slave spun around like an arrow, so fast that the light in its eyes seemed to leave trails. It reached for its dagger. But knowing where the dagger would land, I was a step ahead. Watching where it was headed, I set my stance. Without realizing it, I held my breath in tension.

Once more, Weaving. Please hold out.

Fabrication

Grade - Legendary

Gram

‘Urgh...!’

Nausea surged through me the instant I gripped Gram. Even without Black River, I had already used a great deal of mana. But my opponent was distracted by its lost weapon, and its path was obvious.

‘If I miss this, I might as well fucking die right now!’

I brought Gram down on Slave in an overhead slash.

SLASH!

The sound lasted only an instant. My hands shook violently. Gram vanished. The symptoms of mana depletion swept through my entire body.

Slave, on the other hand, didn’t even let out one of its incessant screams. Its body simply became fully visible in silence. It dropped to its knees with a thump, its expression devoid even of pain.

Was it dead?

Just as I thought that—

“Is this that great one’s sword?”

I heard Slave’s voice. It was faint, growing more distant with every syllable. Gasping for breath and fighting the spasms in my body, I spoke.

“Do you know the sword’s owner?”

“Have I been cut by that sword? I, who should be a soul?”

“... Yes.”

Slave was difficult to damage with physical force. Being a soul, it couldn’t be touched, apart from its dagger. I didn’t know exactly how I had managed to cut it, either. Was it because Weaving was closer to magic? Or was it a Trait of Gram itself? Not knowing, I kept my words to a minimum. Even if I explained, Slave had no time left to hear it all.

“... I see.”

“So I can still be touched by that great one’s sword.”

With those final words, Slave’s revealed body slowly disappeared. Not concealed as it had been before, but gone entirely.