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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Escape
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Please take good care of me.
It had been over ten years since Arsen was born into this world, but he knew next to nothing about the world outside.
The only way he had to learn about it was through the tales of knights and squires who could venture out, or stories passed down from other adults.
Those stories were a jumble of facts, boasts, and superstitions, making it impossible to tell what was real and what was fake. As a result, most of it was unreliable information.
To begin with, if their tales were true, it would have been absurd for the chief squire and soldiers to get crushed by a mere band of raiders.
Hadn't they bragged about swinging their swords once and cutting down dozens of raiders?
Contrary to their boasts, they had been helplessly defeated and killed by raiders who were certainly no more than a few hundred or thousand strong—probably far fewer.
'This is the border of the citadel's territory...'
A short walk past the barrier commonly called the "citadel," and the color of the ground began to change.
The soil inside the citadel where he had been born and raised was the same brown as Earth's, but there was a clear divide, as if split by an invisible wall.
The pale purple earth gave off a vibe that just looking at it was bad for your body.
No crops could grow in this land, so people survived by eating meat from hunted magic beasts or the small amounts of produce grown inside the cramped citadel. They sold hides and bones from magic beasts to passing merchants from nearby citadels or estates to buy food.
[The air outside is downright toxic. Only someone as tough as me can handle it—ordinary folks get dizzy and drop dead after wandering around a bit!]
He recalled the words of a ruddy-faced soldier, deep into his cups and lost in self-praise.
Arsen, having awakened his mana, wasn't sure if he had better resistance to the poison than that soldier—or if his child's body would fail to endure it despite the mana.
He had never even been taught exactly how mana worked.
From scraps he'd overheard and his own experiences, it definitely granted far superior physical abilities compared to a normal person, but did it provide resistance to the outside poison?
If not, or if it wasn't enough, death awaited Arsen beyond the citadel.
[I heard if you chew on a blade of han-sal grass, it reduces the poison from the outside air.]
[Eating a sheep horn wolf's heart strengthens your resistance to the poison, they say.]
He remembered all sorts of folk remedies the adults had taught him, reeking of snake oil, but none were worth trusting or trying.
Han-sal grass was mildly toxic and got trampled whenever spotted, and sheep horn wolves were magic beasts, weak or not.
Excluding methods requiring ingredients he couldn't obtain right now, all that was left were nonsense like "stand on one foot and less poison gets in."
He couldn't outright call it bullshit in front of the servant who told him, so he'd held his tongue, but that was the first thought that came to mind.
'No choice but to go and see.'
The safest bet would be not breathing the outside air at all, but the citadel was no longer safe.
Sir Lenoc, who usually returned from hunts within a few hours at most, hadn't come back. Without living people to defend it, the citadel did nothing but block poison.
In normal times, soldiers inside shot arrows or swung spears and swords to fend off small magic beasts and minor raider groups, but now they were all dead.
If word spread that the citadel had already been targeted and raided once, another gang might come to use it as a base—and that would mean instant death or enslavement.
Gritting his teeth, Arsen mustered his courage and stepped a few paces beyond the territory.
"Sip."
The moment he stepped out, the air itself smelled different.
It carried the sickly sweet, nauseating stench of an old dumpster.
Just in case dizziness hit, he kept one foot barely inside the territory, ready to retreat, and took deep breaths for a few minutes. The foul smell faded as it grew familiar, but his head didn't throb or spin.
Confirming it was somewhat safe, Arsen strode forward.
His destination was Belluan Estate, said to lie straight west from Lenoc's citadel.
With the sun setting soon, he'd use the stars for direction, sleep in the forest, and set off.
This plan drew heavily from tales he'd overheard from Sir Lenoc, a knight after all.
[Night is safer than day. Most magic beasts sleep at night. As long as you don't light a fire, you're almost never attacked. Only raiders come at night.]
For reasons unknown, magic beasts didn't attack at night. They moved to defend if attacked, but never struck first.
Not 100% reliable, but he'd trust it and sleep in the forest.
He knew which way was west from the citadel, so using that as reference, he kept walking with the citadel at his back until sunset.
He worried raiders or magic beasts might appear, but luck held—no encounters.
After hours of walking, thanks to his awakened mana, his vision didn't narrow as much as expected even in the dark.
Before, even inside the citadel, he couldn't move around at night without lights if it got late. Now, faint green moonlight let him see surroundings in fair detail.
Far less convenient than daylight, but enough to identify trees and judge the environment.
It felt oddly like wearing night-vision goggles, thanks to the moonlight.
Unbeknownst to Arsen, his mana-infused eyes pierced the night like a wild animal's, gleaming.
'Time to sleep soon.'
Night was ideal for travel since magic beasts didn't attack, but if he didn't reach his goal by morning, he'd have to sleep amid magic beasts actively hunting.
Plus, after repeated brushes with death and constant tension today, exhaustion crashed over him.
He picked a nearby bush to pull for bedding, but yanked his hand back at the sting.
"Ah, damn it."
In the dim night vision, he'd missed that it was thorny.
Sucking the blood beading on his fingertip, he carefully checked bushes and found a thornless one to make a simple shelter.
Surprisingly, nearly 80% of bushes here bristled with thorns.
'A world that doesn't welcome other life...'
Thinking even the plants outside were fiercely combative, Arsen made a simple bed and blanket from the bush, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.
Despite the discomfort, fatigue pulled his consciousness under like sinking into the sea.
Exhausted as he was, he still dreamed.
In the dream, the man he'd beaten to death the day before appeared, swinging a knife at him.
Over and over.
The next morning, Arsen woke with a heavy feeling, sunlight piercing his eyelids through the trees.
Grateful he hadn't succumbed to poison overnight, he brushed off the bushes covering him and grabbed his sword and pouch.
First, he pulled a strip of jerky from the leather pouch, moistened it in his mouth, and took a sip of water.
Softening jerky with saliva to chew easily—a technique he'd picked up surviving this world.
Thirsty as he was, he sipped water between bites until the jerky was gone, then set off again.
West, following yesterday's direction—that was the only way.
Sunlight streamed brightly, but the surroundings weren't pretty.
The ground remained that murky purple, trees grew bent sideways as standard, some spiraling like springs.
Occasionally, hard, sharp leaves blocked paths, forcing him to hack branches with his brought sword instead of hands.
If raiders lived in forests like this, their madness and violence made sense.
Even pious priests dropped here would claim insanity—this place was that unforgiving and bizarre.
How long had he walked when his sharpened ears caught a faint tapping sound?
Realizing it was footsteps, Arsen froze and listened.
Something approached rapidly from behind.
He scanned for hiding spots, but the footsteps closed in instantly, rustling through grass to reveal itself.
It had crept quietly for a surprise pounce, but seeing his sword raised, it hesitated, then barked fiercely to declare battle.
Woof!
What emerged was a low-grade magic beast resembling a wolf: a sheep horn wolf.
It looked similar but was half again larger, with a split jaw and goat-like horns.
Its heart was said to help resist poison.
That was all Arsen knew about sheep horn wolves—he'd only seen hunted corpses occasionally.
Unfortunately, that info was obvious just by looking at the one before him, offering zero value.
Grrrr.
Unlike its bold entrance, the sheep horn wolf growled low, circling Arsen.
It had likely smelled blood and thought him injured prey.
But facing a human with no visible wounds and a sword, it hesitated.
This area near Krata Citadel had a history of sheep horn wolves being hunted, so it saw humans not as easy meat but as predators—hence circling instead of attacking.
To the sheep horn wolf, Arsen looked like a cub, smaller than most humans, but still bore sharp fangs, making him threatening.
"Hey, hey, pup... let's part ways peacefully, yeah? No point in fighting."
Arsen extended his sword forward, slowly backing away.
He recalled Earth's advice: never turn and run from a beast—it triggers pursuit.
Unclear if it applied only to felines, all predators, or this world's magic beasts, but getting attacked mid-flight was surely the worst outcome.
Unsure how strong the sheep horn wolf was, he might not win a fight—and injury drawing blood could summon the whole forest's beasts.
Matching Arsen's slow retreat step-for-step, the sheep horn wolf advanced, barking threats.
Sadly, stalemating the sheep horn wolf proved a poor choice soon after.
Gaining some distance, it threw its head back and unleashed a long, echoing howl like a wolf's.
Far off, an identical howl answered.
'No way it's like wolves even in this?'
Bigger size had made him doubt, but sheep horn wolves were pack animals too.
No options left, Arsen gritted his teeth and slashed at the sheep horn wolf.
Faster and stronger than a normal person's swing, but his unskilled strike missed the head, gashing the shoulder.
As Arsen lunged, the charging sheep horn wolf ignored the wound. When Arsen instinctively raised his left arm to block, it clamped down.
Arsen screamed at the fangs piercing flesh, wildly slashing its belly with the sword in his right hand.
"You bastard!"
After repeated stabs, he kicked it away. The weakened sheep horn wolf released its jaw and collapsed.
Blood spurting from holes in his arm turned his stomach, but no time for first aid.
Three more sheep horn wolves burst from the underbrush.
"Ah... gentlemen pups. I didn't do this to your friend... but you won't believe me, huh?"
Sensing his lie failed from their snarling fangs, Arsen spun and sprinted for all he was worth.
The howls behind brimmed with hatred for the killer of their kin.