Section 9: Menosorpo (6)

Silence settled over the gathering at Frondier’s words. Grobel had not deliberately held his tongue. For a moment, he was simply confused.

'What do I say?'

To Frondier, Rockbel would look like a hostage. He would never imagine the boy was Grobel’s younger brother. Naturally, then, Frondier was demanding Rockbel to ensure the hostage’s safety. Rockbel was the very reason Frondier had abandoned his escape and come out here.

“I don’t know what you want. But you want it badly enough to take that child hostage, don’t you? That’s why I came out. Send him over to me.”

Grobel laughed at Frondier’s words, with a touch of bravado.

“Hah. I already told you. You think you’re in a position to bargain?”

“If I’m not, I’ll just go back inside. As you’ve probably realized, there’s an escape route in the basement. Kill the boy or don’t. Do whatever you like.”

“If this kid dies, you’re finished too, you know?”

“Well, if I’m going to die either way, I’d rather die later.”

With that, Frondier took a step back. He really looked ready to walk back into the burning house. Grobel clenched his molars.

'Fucking hell, why’s he so confident?'

He had expected Frondier to come out trembling with fear. Instead, here he was bargaining with them, his stance and gaze utterly confident.

Then Serf spoke.

“All right. We’ll send the boy over.”

Grobel turned toward Serf in surprise. Had the child been a complete stranger, he would not have cared. But Rockbel was his little brother. Hand his brother over to that Human Sloth?

Serf smiled at Grobel as if to reassure him. Still deeply reluctant, Grobel nodded and addressed Frondier.

“Fine. I’ll send him over.”

“Send him alone.”

“Fine.”

Grobel gave Rockbel a light pat on the back, signaling him to go. Rockbel began walking uneasily toward Frondier.

... By this point, Rockbel was on the verge of panic.

'What? Am I really going over there?'

He could not even follow how the conversation was unfolding, and now his brother had suddenly pushed him forward. For a boy of around ten, that was frightening enough.

'You said all I had to do was pretend to cry!'

There was no need to act anymore. He felt ready to burst into real tears. With that look on his face, Rockbel approached Frondier one step at a time. Frondier watched him with an indifferent expression, which only frightened him more.

Just as Rockbel came within arm’s reach, he heard Frondier push off the ground. Still wearing that indifferent expression, Frondier lunged at him in an instant.

“Eek!”

Rockbel cringed in surprise.

Then—

CLANG!

He heard a metallic sound behind him.

“... Huh?”

Rockbel looked back.

A broken arrow dropped to the ground. Frondier had rushed toward Rockbel and blocked it for him. He had no idea how, but that did not matter to him. What mattered was...

'H-he shot an arrow at me...'

Rockbel stared blankly at the mercenaries across from him. At Serf Daniel, standing in their midst. He had not known Serf for long, but the older man had always worn a kind smile. Now, wearing that very same smile, Serf Daniel held a bow.

“Uh...?”

That was all he could say. His vision swam. Fear pressed heavily against his lungs.

Amid it all, Frondier, who had blocked the arrow, gathered him into his arms and said,

“Hold on tight.”

Without thinking, Rockbel clutched Frondier’s sleeve with both hands. Carrying Rockbel, Frondier leaped into the burning house.

* * *

“Serf, you crazy bastard!!”

Grobel seized Serf by the collar, his hands trembling with overwhelming rage. Serf had fired an arrow at Rockbel. He had shot at his little brother.

Even held by the collar, Serf spoke with a brazen expression.

“Tsk. Missed.”

“Missed? What the fuck, you son of a bitch—!”

Grobel shouted, his fury boiling over.

But just as he was about to drive a fist into Serf’s face, he suddenly stopped.

“Lower your hand.”

“...”

Without a word, Grobel released Serf’s collar. His eyes were unfocused.

Seeing this, one of the mercenaries spoke up.

“Wh-what’s...?”

“All of you, shut up.”

Serf cut him off before he could finish.

In an instant, every mercenary’s eyes lost focus. Like Grobel, they stood there limp, helpless, and dazed. This was Serf’s ability, Mind Control. Once its conditions were met, he could control others as he pleased.

He had to present his target with a business card. The target had to read it, check his name, and retain the name “Serf Daniel” in their mind. Even with those conditions fulfilled, it was less effective against the strong-willed, but mercenaries of this caliber posed no problem.

“Tsk. It wasn’t a bad idea.”

Serf clicked his tongue.

Originally, he had intended to throw the boy named Rockbel into the cabin if necessary. The story would have been that Frondier had locked a child inside and burned him to death. His next scenario was that Frondier had shot and killed the boy with an arrow, but that had not gone as planned.

“Frondier, so you can use Aura, just as I heard.”

Serf was certain of it. Gregory had reported as much.

Gregory specialized in taming. He had long used all sorts of animals to gather information within Constel. Frondier, however, had never been part of that intelligence network. The discovery had been a coincidence.

At the time, Serf had been listening to Gregory’s report at his residence, as usual. It had begun with Elodie.

[“When Elodie and Frondier were together, Frondier blocked every shard of broken glass. He was barehanded then, too.”]

Gregory had said as much, but Serf was skeptical.

[“And that alone made you conclude Frondier uses Aura?”]

[“That’s not all.”]

Serf looked at Gregory—or rather, the crow before him—urging him to continue with his eyes. Gregory lowered his voice as though about to reveal something momentous.

[“The Golem.”]

[“...!”]

[“Edwin’s Golem, the one that cost Constel’s Aktober so many of its members—the group we in Indus were supporting. Frondier was the one who destroyed it. I ignored that at the time because it wasn’t important, but looking at everything that happened, it’s clear that was Frondier’s doing too. And then, as well...”]

[“... He was barehanded.”]

Taken together, that evidence lent credibility to the idea that Frondier used Aura. And yet, that incompetent Frondier using Aura—and barehanded, no less?

[“How could Frondier the Human Sloth possibly use Aura?”]

[“He must have received Divine Power. It happens sometimes. Someone catches a god’s eye later in life through some chance event. You’ve heard that Frondier has been participating diligently in class lately, haven’t you? He must have received Divine Power.”]

... Of course. Aura granted through a god’s help.

[“If he uses Aura, he’s dangerous even when outnumbered. Serf, it seems you’ve hired mercenaries, but make sure you put Frondier at a disadvantage. Fabricate as much evidence as you can that he killed a child, kidnapped one, or something along those lines. Kill him afterward.”]

Considering Gregory’s report, Frondier had indeed been barehanded when he blocked that arrow just now. He had neither caught it nor swatted it aside. The arrow had unmistakably broken in midair and fallen. His Aura came from a god’s help. Blocking a mere arrow would be child’s play.

“... Evidence, huh.”

Frondier had run back inside the house. His claim that there was an escape route inside was probably true. If he crawled through a narrow escape tunnel with a child, mountains of evidence would pile up without Serf having to do anything. It could even look as though Frondier was kidnapping the boy.

Serf turned his eyes toward the burning house.

“Go.”

At his command, all the mercenaries entered the house. They cleared away the embers and dispersed the smoke, finally discovering the basement. Then they descended, and just as they were about to search the escape route...

“... Hmm.”

The corner of one of Serf’s eyes twitched.

What was obviously an escape route—or rather, what had been one—had collapsed. Rocks had fallen from above, sealing it without a single gap. After entering, Frondier had brought the ceiling down from inside.

Serf shouted,

“Get outside and find him! An escape route like this can’t be very long! He can’t have gone far!”

* * *

“Huff... Huff...”

I was crawling through the escape tunnel with the child on my back. I had secured him with my outer garment so he would not fall.

After blocking the arrow, I had carried the child down to the basement, entered the escape tunnel, and collapsed the entrance. Before doing so, I had lain face down over the boy, formed a shield from Black River, and laid it over my back. Then I had slashed with Gram to collapse the entrance, blocking the falling rocks with the shield.

The child had passed out, perhaps from the shock. ... No, that could not have been the only reason. Something far too much for a child’s mind to bear had happened.

'Serf...'

When the arrow had flown toward the boy, I had blocked it with a shield made through Weaving. Naturally, that was not because I had exceptional reflexes. I had known that bastard Serf would shoot. If the boy died from an arrow right in front of me, it would be far easier to pin the crime on me.

'Ugh, this hurts like hell.'

Of course, I had not come away unscathed when I destroyed the entrance. The shield had not covered my entire body. Rocks had struck my head, arms, legs, and more, leaving them in intense pain. Even the parts protected by the shield had not escaped injury.

Now, every spot that scraped against the tunnel as I crawled throbbed and burned. Something trickled down my body, whether sweat or blood, I could not tell. The escape tunnel was longer and narrower than I had expected.

... How much time had passed? As I forced myself to crawl in that awkward position, anxiety crept over me.

What if the enemy caught up? What if they had explosives? What if they brought down the entire tunnel? Or perhaps they had already found the exit and were waiting ahead.

My heart raced. My breathing was ragged. Drops of blood ran from the scrapes all over me, mingling with sweat until I could no longer tell one from the other.

But at last...

“... Outside.”

The end of the escape tunnel. Light filtered in from the distance.

Even if enemies lay in wait up ahead, that was the only way I could go. I gritted my teeth, clutching the Black Lotus necklace as I searched the Workshop for a suitable weapon.

Then, as I reached toward the exit, someone seized my outstretched hand.

“?!”

A powerful force yanked me forward.

Damn it, had the enemy already arrived after all?

Just as I was about to tighten my grip on Black Lotus—

“Frondier!”

I was pulled into someone’s arms. Stunned, I saw nothing but white for a moment.

But the scent... I recognized that familiar scent. It was from back then, after I had defeated Slave in the dungeon.

“... Saibel.”

It was the scent I had smelled while carrying her on my back.

“You made it.”

Saibel smiled at me.