Julian edged back, each step measured, eyes never leaving Luthern. One misstep, and it was over. There was no room for mistakes.
His fingers found the drawer by his knee, curling around the wand's smooth wooden grain.
"Hah... missed kicking me around that much?" His voice dripped with acid mockery. This was the man who had once called daily torment 'training'. Luthern might shape prodigies with his knowledge, but teaching was not one of his gifts. That had always been his single, human flaw.
"Khehehe~ You make me sound like a sadist," Luthern replied, stepping lightly toward the table. "You remind me of… an old acquaintance of mine."
"Stop right there." Julian's voice snapped like a whip as he levelled the wand. Thin threads of shimmering blue magicules spiralled from its tip, the air around it vibrating with restrained force.
The wand looked plain, but the Sacred Tree bark under his grip was tougher than archdragon scales, runes etched deep along its length. At its crown, a thumb-sized shard of Hihirokane burned like frozen starlight.
"Flaunting such a stolen piece… you've grown arrogant," Luthern said, pausing mid-step. "Unfortunately for you—"
Julian moved first. The wand flared white-hot, and a {Dimensional Rend} screamed into existence, a perfect, razor-thin meter-wide circle ripping through the far wall like paper.
Luthern wasn't there.
Julian spun. Luthern's shadow fell across him a heartbeat before a kick smashed into his crossed forearms. Magicules hardened his muscles to steel, but the impact still drove him half a step back, boots gouging the floorboards.
"I see… this spell pierces even [Multi-Dimensional Barrier]," Luthern mused, reading Julian's stance with wolf's patience.
"You've managed to become… slightly less disappointing," he murmured, reading Julian's stance. The boy's close-quarters had been a weakness, not anymore.
Julian's jaw set. Another Rend. Then another. Then another. Luthern slipped between them with lazy precision, as if the cuts had been rehearsed for him.
"First flaw," Luthern called, weaving past another slash. "It devours magicules. You've already burned through half your reserves."
Julian ignored him, conjuring a sixth Rend and snapping it toward Luthern's midsection. The older man pivoted away, brushing the attack aside with the edge of his staff.
"Second flaw," Luthern continued, his voice calm despite the carnage, "It demands perfect focus. Lose that—" He tapped the wand's tip, making the magicule threads shiver and collapse. "—and it dies before it's born."
A table hurtled into his path, Elrik's work. Luthern ducked, staff whipping to deflect a chair from the side.
"What are you waiting for? Run!" Elrik shouted, charging in with his staff raised. Luthern's counterstrike came like lightning, but Elrik rolled beneath it, snatching up a jagged table leg.
"I don't know who you are or what's between you and Julian," Elrik said, lifting a jagged table leg in one hand, keeping the other hidden. "But you have no right to attack others. Please leave."
Luthern's smile thinned. "Third flaw, useless against belessings, soul-binding or divine protections. Fourth—" His blade of magicules formed in an instant. "—disrupt the casting, and it collapses entirely."
Julian stood frozen by the door, trapped in that gap between fight and flight. Both were suicides. Luthern would crush any defence and ignore any plea.
Wind howled through the ragged hole in the wall. Rain hissed against the floorboards. Luthern adjusted the folds of his hat, smiling faintly.
"Very well," he said at last. "I'm feeling generous today. I'll make you an offer." That snapped both men's attention toward him. Even Julian seemed to shake off his haze.
"An offer?" Elrik echoed, suspicious. It smelled like a trap, but he bit.
"Simple. You have five minutes. If either of you can so much as scratch me, I'll leave, and you'll never see me again. In other words... You win." His hands rested lightly on his staff's hilt.
For a heartbeat, Elrik thought he'd misheard. 'That's it?' Two against one. Even if he was strong, Luthern was still an old man... 'A trick. Has to be.'
"Fine. We accept," Julian said flatly.
"Eh?" Elrik turned to him in disbelief.
"Kufufufu~ Your swordsmanship looks promising," Luthern replied. Magicules coiled in his hands, hardening into a flawless double-edged blade. He tossed it to Elrik's feet.
Elrik's jaw slackened. 'He just... made a sword out of thin air!?' He bent to pick it up, discarding the table leg. The weight was perfect. Balance flawless. The edge gleamed as if eager to cut.
'Are we really doing this?' He glanced at Julian, who was focused, adjusting his stance, widening the distance.
Luthern: "Then... let's begin."
Julian vanished.
One blink later, Luthern was where Julian had been. Elrik didn't see the kick, only the shockwave as Julian's body blurred through the rain outside. In the same breath, Luthern's hand closed around Elrik's throat, iron fingers crushing his windpipe.
Elrik's sword flashed upward — caught mid-swing by Luthern's bare hand.
A blast of magic from outside forced Luthern to release him. Julian staggered in the downpour, wand trembling, blood dripping from brow and mouth. One arm clutched his stomach; the other aimed dead at Luthern.
Elrik lunged. Steel met staff with a jolt, then pain exploded in his shoulder as Luthern's counterblow left his left arm limp.
From the corner of his eye, Luthern caught Julian shaping another {Dimensional Rend}. A hop back, and he let the boy fire.
This one wasn't clean; it was savage, overcharged, tearing through what remained of the tavern in a blast that rattled the bones. Rain and splinters filled the air.
Elrik's eyes widened at the five-meter burn carved into his vision, but Luthern's absence was worse.
"Julian!" he shouted, seeing the magician collapse, blood spilling from nose and mouth. He barely had time to kneel before—
"So, he's finally reached his limit," came that familiar voice from behind. Elrik swung wildly, hitting only air.
"You put too much momentum into that. Your balance is off," Luthern's voice was the last thing he heard before darkness.
Julian gathered another spell and froze as Luthern stepped forward. His vision wavered. Hopelessness pulled him under.
'So this is my limit...'
"You've succeeded at launching 8 of them, that's quite a feat itself" Luthern's voice was a knife cutting away the last of his resolve. Julian's head hit the floor.
Julian knew them all, all the flaws; he'd spent ten months perfecting this spell specifically to break through Luthern's defences, but it wasn't finished. He lacked the knowledge of spatial magic and complex magic circuits.
"Yaah, he really kicked your asses, huh? Hahaha~" came a cheerful voice from behind, a young woman's laughter. Luthern spun. No presence. No magicules. And yet the young woman... man? Standing there was real. Shadows clung to his... its silk-black robes, its long hair half-hidden under a short-brimmed hat. Its face was blurred, its smile faint, its voice light.
'What's going on here?' Although he could clearly see and hear this figure, his [Magic Sense] refused to acknowledge them. It was as if the magicules simply ignored this person, passing right through them. Yet the sound and light—the tangible presence—interacted with him naturally.
"And what are you?" Luthern demanded.
"Oh, you're still here," the figure said, bowing mockingly. "I'm just a guide. I've come for these two."
"…Very well." Luthern straightened his suit and turned away.
"Eh?! That's it? No fight? Boring!"
"I have no interest in a losing battle," Luthern said, walking into the rain, untouched, immaculate.
— • — Meanwhile — • —
In the forest, fog thickened, the cold rain making every step heavier for the two mercenaries. The stocky man wiped his face and eyes again, trying to keep his vision clear in the strange, oppressive atmosphere. The threat of wild beasts or worse lurked in every shadow.
There was no sunlight to guide them; without their internal clocks, they wouldn't know if it was day or night. They walked for an hour, then two, then two and a half, before stopping at a massive tree with thick, wide branches, perfect for shelter.
"Baah," the mercenary sighed, collapsing onto the trunk. The other sat beside him. "Looks like we're staying here for a while. We'll move on at nightfall."
"Yeah... I think so, we'll take turns on watch. Wake me when it's my turn." He panted mid-sentence, laying the pale body of Alan on his left, resting himself on the right and pulling his cloak over himself, sinking into a sleep heavy with exhaustion.
The slender one exhaled, leaning his back against the tree trunk, clutching his dagger tightly. He, too, used his cloak as a cover. Unfortunately, everything around was soaked, the dampness and fierce wind made lighting a campfire impossible.
Minutes crawled by. Sleep crept into his eyes; tense muscles relaxed. The lure of rest was irresistible. Before he knew it, he was lost in dreams.
...
...
...
Slowly, he rose from the ground, stretching his limbs. Blood dribbled from his mouth, leaving a salty, metallic taste. He glanced at the sleeping mercenaries nearby and smiled wryly.
It had been risky, but surprisingly, it had worked.
Alan stood by the tree, healing his heart. Activating the [Anaesthesia Field] had been surprisingly easy and effective. Its effect didn't just soothe him; it dulled everyone within its radius, friend or foe. Without it, things would have been a bit annoying.
The heart's job was to pump and circulate blood through the body, true enough, but Alan could do it manually with [Blood Regulation]. His lungs were intact, so oxygenation was not an issue.
'We've spent 897,245 seconds, let's call it 900,000, from my perspective under [Thoughts Acceleration]. That's 9,000 seconds in real time... roughly two and a half hours. They've been walking at around five kilometres an hour, so we've travelled between twelve and thirteen kilometres... southeast. This forest really is enormous.'
He surveyed his surroundings. The rain still fell at the same relentless pace, as though it would never end. The horizon was a smear of fog, shapes blurred into silhouettes. Healing his heart completely would take about an hour; until then, he chose to keep regulating his blood manually while maintaining the [Anaesthesia Field]. The first required intense focus, the second almost none, and he wasn't sure it even drained his magicules at all. Still, he sped up his heart's healing rhythm, just in case.
From the mercenaries, he took a bow, arrows, and a dagger. Their senses were still dulled, so he wasn't concerned about waking them.
'Let's start with the thin one.'
He could choose who fell under [Anaesthesia Field] and who was exempt. Cancelling its effect on the thin man, he pressed the dagger to his throat, knee on his chest, closing the space between them to pin him down. Then he began to wake him.
The man's eyelids fluttered open slowly, as though surfacing from a dream. His gaze wandered before fixing on Alan, and instantly shifted to fear and shock. "Wha—!!"
"Shhh." Alan raised a finger to his lips, tilting the dagger just enough for the man to notice. That was all it took to seal his tongue. His body trembled, his pupils blew wide. It was as if he were seeing someone rise from the grave, which, in a way, wasn't far from the truth. He glanced sharply toward his companion, still snoring in ignorance of their predicament.
'I wonder if they have some way to communicate telepathically. That would be quite a problem.'
"Alright," Alan murmured, his voice low enough to be a whisper, "I ask, you answer. You speak only when I allow it. Nod if you understand."
With a blade at his throat, there was no choice but compliance. He nodded.
"First, who sent you?" From earlier exchanges, Alan had guessed they were likely hired killers. His original plan had been to lure them in, pretending to surrender under the assumption they wanted him alive. He hadn't expected an outright assassination attempt, but he'd reshaped his strategy in the last instant.
He guessed they were taking him to a drop-off point to deliver his corpse and collect payment. He'd intended to let them take him there, but with time dragging on, his energy bleeding away from overusing his skill, and the realisation that he was pressing his luck too far, he'd decided to cut the trip short and settle for what information he could get now.
"I won't tell—Eek!" The dagger's edge nicked his skin, a warm trickle running down his throat.
"Wrong answer." Alan eased the blade away, the small wound stinging. His patience was already thin; he was healing his own heart, manually controlling his blood flow, and keeping part of his attention on the surroundings in case of predators. He wanted this over quickly.
"I can't! I really can't! They'll kill me for sure!" Panic flooded the man's voice. He darted another glance at his sleeping partner. 'Hurry up and wake, you idiot!'
"Oh, don't worry," Alan said, his tone almost casual. "You'll die either way. At least with me, it'll be quick and painless. Can't say the same for your friend, though, I've got a special gift for him."
The man's mind raced. Choices flickered and vanished in an instant, each one leading to the same dark place. Death loomed close now, merciless, certain. Who would have thought he'd die this young!
A faint, cold smile touched his lips. "Haha, don't look so scared. I'm joking, of course, I'm not that cruel."
The thin man's gaze rose slowly, a spark of hope returning to his eyes.
"Though," Alan continued, tone deceptively thoughtful, "I will be killing your partner. He killed me, after all. Who knows who else he might kill later? But you... You hesitated. Almost like... You were forced?"
The thin man seized the opening, piecing together his words fast. "Y—yes! I was threatened! I didn't know it was a kill mission. All I was told was to find you! I never intended to hurt you, but he panicked and shot that arrow. Then he made me finish you off. I didn't want you to suffer, so I aimed for your heart. I'm truly sorry, I can't think of any way to make up for it." His face trembled with emotion, carefully hiding the satisfaction of spinning his story.
"Hm... Make it up to me?" Alan said with the air of someone considering the idea. "If you answer all my questions honestly, I'll accept your apology and let you go. Of course, I'll take your weapons for safety. And don't try lying, I can spot it easily. Deal?" His smile was warm, reassuring.
The man's lips quivered. "Really?"
"Really. And if you're afraid 'they' will kill you, I'll make sure you're protected. I may not look it, but I can handle myself," Alan replied without hesitation.
It was as if new life flowed into the man's body. Like someone had grabbed his hands and pulled him from drowning. He organised his thoughts quickly before speaking. "We... We were hired by Cerberus. It seemed like an easy job, and the pay was good, so we took it. The mission was just to find you and bring you in. But, as I said, things didn't go as planned. We were supposed to hand you over at the edge of the forest, just a few kilometres north of Volcano Zharokh."
"What exactly is Cerberus? And what do they want with me?" Alan pressed, mentally sifting through the words, practically elated. Finally, actual info.
Of course, he kept in mind the possibility that the man was mixing truth with lies. But lies have short legs, and with enough questions, the truth would come crawling out.
A liar can't fool a bigger liar.
"I don't know much," he said at last, voice tight as if wringing every drop of memory from his mind. "It was my first time working with them. Truth be told, I wasn't the one who met them face-to-face. He was. By the time I was told about the job, everything had already been arranged: payment, meeting place, and the work. All I know is they're a large, organised group... probably involved in something shady. As for why they want you, no idea."
"What did they tell you about me? And how did they even know where I was?"
"They said you were a young man with black hair and glasses, wearing a light brown coat and leather shoes. That you'd be in the town of Zarethun, and they gave us the exact day and hour." He spoke carefully, replaying the instructions word for word. 'Now that he thought about it... Perhaps the boy we had tried to kill was someone of high rank or influence. Even if we've succeeded, the ones behind the job, we, would be hunted down by people far more dangerous.'
'What? Who would believe this nonsense? The information was absurdly precise, too precise.' At first, Alan had thought they might have mistaken him for another target. If they really know where every person from another world is... then why is Julian still free? It would all make sense if...
"What's my name?" Alan asked suddenly, his expression sharpening.
"...Huh?"
"They didn't give you a name?" he repeated, keeping his calm tone.
"Well... Alan, if my memory serves," the man admitted, tension coiling in his voice.
'Ridiculous! This is absurd!' His thoughts whipped into a storm. If they knew everything… he was already dead.
'If they know everything, then why send these two? Did they underestimate me? Or... have they already sent others, just waiting for me to make a hostile move?'
'Damn it. They've already played me.' Keeping his face neutral, he spoke with forced casualness. "Looks like not everything they told you was correct, after all." One last, desperate attempt at misdirection.
'Let's pretend... we know nothing.'
He cleared his throat and continued. "Since when have you been tracking me? Where did you get the job and the details?"
"We reached town yesterday, found you this morning... I was planning to politely ask you to come with us, but you bolted straight into the forest. We were staying in a small town near the western forest border when my partner met a Cerberus agent in a tavern. He made the offer there, my partner accepted, and shared everything with me."
'Why didn't they tell them about my skill? Did they not know? Or did these two think a knife to the heart would be enough to kill me? If that's the case, they might send others when they realise these two didn't return. And if they didn't know... it makes more sense. But it doesn't change the fact that they might send more after me.
Why do they want me dead in the first place...?'
By now, his heart was almost fully healed. The conversation had dragged on longer than expected; he needed rest.
He sorted through everything he'd learned. It all seemed plausible, if you ignored the part about the skinny man being innocent. The man wasn't hiding much more. Alan had gotten all he could from him.
"That's all, then." Alan pulled the dagger from the man's throat and stood. The rain had stopped, though the fog still clung thick around the forest, and the sky remained a heavy grey.
He stretched his legs lightly, but his eyes never left the thin man. Even in a relaxed stance, he kept his guard up. Who knew what the man might try?
The man rose slowly, gaze flicking to the dagger still in Alan's hand. He wasn't stupid enough to provoke him and end up like his partner, snoring like a lamb in the corner.
"I suppose we were heading south, right? If you want to hide, staying away from there is a must. North's too obvious. East or west would be safer," Alan advised.
"Oh, yes. East sounds much safer."
"Let's go together. I'll take you out of the forest until you find a ride. Lead the way," Alan gestured. The man obeyed.
'I survived! I actually survived! I swear I'll never take another mercenary job as long as I live. A new life, a new name, new work, new home, maybe things will finally go my way.
Yes... This will be my fresh start!'
The thought had barely finished forming when Alan drew and loosed in one movement. The arrow punched clean through the man's throat, snapping bone and silencing him mid-breath.
'Damn... this thing's no joke,' Alan thought, lowering the bowstring. First time holding a bow, and his target had been barely two meters away, an easy shot. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to test its range or power for the same reason.
He turned left and right, checking if what he did had provoked any reactions, but nothing. 'I think it's safe to assume that there is no surveillance at this time.'
He retrieved the bloodied arrow and moved to the sleeping fat man. With a flick, he cancelled the effects of [Anaesthesia Field] and woke him.
"...Is it my turn already?" the man grumbled, rubbing his eyes—only to freeze as he saw the arrow aimed at his face. Too late.
"Yep," Alan murmured as the arrow sank between his eyes, killing him instantly. He'd hoped to question him too, but staying here was no longer safe.
He took their cloaks, slung the quiver and bow over his shoulder, stowed the dagger alongside his kitchen knife under his coat, and layered the cloaks over himself to hide the bow and mask his face. His coat, now soaked with blood, disappeared beneath the folds.
Exhaling slowly, he felt the last ache in his heart fade away. At last, rest. He was starting to adapt to the mental strain each time he used「Surgeon」. Soon, perhaps, he could wield it longer without wearing himself down.
He glanced back at the bodies. Burying them would take too long. Truthfully, they didn't deserve the courtesy.
Alan faced west, desperate to escape, not just this forest, but the entire empire itself. In a situation like this, where neither friend nor foe could be clearly identified, he found it safest to regard everyone as an enemy, unless proven otherwise.
He pressed on, cutting through the thick fog that seemed to mock his sharpened senses. The silence around him was unnerving, a haunting stillness that warned of impending danger. Quickening his steps, he knew even a single second's hesitation could cost him dearly. The dense mist and tense anticipation engulfed him as he replayed every moment since arriving in this strange world.
Did he miss something?
'How long would it take to get out of this forest?' he wondered.
He carefully navigated puddles, thick roots, and what resembled animal droppings. The recent rains had thrown the forest into chaos, as if a storm had just ravaged the place. The air gradually stilled, allowing the faint songs of birds to rise, a natural melody that momentarily made Alan feel as if he were on a simple walk, far from danger.
He wasn't counting time, but guessed it must be mid-afternoon.
A rustle to his right caught his attention. Instinctively, his hand dropped to the hem of his coat, ready for whatever might emerge. A small bird, its feathers white with black stripes, fluttered out from the bushes.
"Don't scare me like that!" Alan muttered.
Oddly, the bird's grey eyes seemed fixed on him no matter where he moved. Shrugging off the strange encounter, he figured it was just a nervous reaction to seeing a hairless chimpanzee, nothing more.
Continuing along the path, he noticed it began to slope upward, not steeply, but enough to signal a change in terrain. As he climbed, the fog slowly lifted, revealing a jagged mountain range on the horizon. Beyond it, the outline of what looked like a volcano crater came into view.
'So this must be the Zharokh volcano...'
Suddenly, a noise behind him made him spin around. Not just behind, he also heard a branch snap to his right. 'Another bird?'
"Stop right there!" a sharp voice commanded from his left. Alan whirled, hand gripping his dagger. Before him stood a man cloaked in a red hood and band, wearing a black military uniform stitched with red patterns along the cuffs and collar. A dragon emblem marked the left side of his chest. The man held a glowing flame in his palm, pointed directly at Alan, waiting for him to defy orders.
From the shadows and trees emerged more individuals, all similarly dressed, closing off every escape route. 'How did they slip past my enhanced senses so easily?'
They moved with a predator's precision, boots sinking silently into mud. The faint hiss of their flames sounded almost like a slow exhale.
"Raise your hands and get down on your knees," a female voice barked from behind him, urgent and threatening, a stark reminder that his senses were useless now. With no choice, Alan obeyed. Slowly, he turned toward the woman behind him and was met with the cold blade of a curved sword inches from his face.
"I am First Lieutenant of Company 375. You are under arrest, for your safety and the security of this operation." She said, pinning her grey eyes on him
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the sword in front of him warned him against that option.
"Don't worry, it's just a simple investigation," a man from among the others stepped forward, speaking in the cheerful, reassuring tone of a young man in his twenties. He bent down to his level, winking with one of his grey eyes before continuing, "A quick debriefing and we'll let you go, okay buddy?"