AMY'S POV
The spirit is coming close to us. Even normally, us elves are more favored by mana than humans, but this is on a whole other level. The spirit in front of us is a high-ranking one at that. With my experience as a hunter, I can tell my magic power is nothing in front of this spirit. My own magic, which I have spent decades honing, feels like a candle flickering in a hurricane.
As I'm panicking here, Kafka is standing calm and composed. He has his hands tucked casually away as if he is waiting for a carriage. His face is a mask of pure, bored composure, his eyes fixed on the rampaging spirit as if it is a minor inconvenience rather than a world-ending threat.
"Move." (Kafka)
Kafka gives his first order. It is just one word, but with that word, every member of Death Hunters starts moving almost simultaneously. It is as if they are a single organism. Sophie reaches into her belt and throws something toward Luna with practiced ease. Olivia begins chanting, her staff glowing with a blue light that makes the ground beneath us freeze. Ansem, that mountain of a man, doesn't even flinch; he simply charges forward, his heavy armor clanking as he prepares to take the brunt of the spirit's rage.
The battlefield is a chaotic storm of mana and steel. But this time, the spirit is also attacking us as the Death Hunters are fighting. All Silver moon can do is create a magic barrier to protect us from its attacks. Suddenly, an attack comes my way. It is a powerful one, a condensed mass of pure, destructive mana. I can't stop it with my barrier, so I desperately deflect its trajectory so it won't hit me.
But after clashing with my barrier, the attack goes right to where Kafka is standing. He doesn't even look. He doesn't move. He doesn't even flinch. The attack hits him directly in the chest. A blinding blast of light engulfs his body, and the shockwave nearly knocks me off my feet.
I killed him. The thought echoes in my mind with sickening clarity. I don't like that human, but I didn't hate him enough to kill him. No human can survive a direct hit from a high-ranking spirit's mana.
"You didn't kill him. See, he is standing there alright, totally unharmed." (Kerry)
Kerry grabs my shoulder, her grip so tight it bruises. As the smoke clears, my jaw drops. Kafka is still standing there. His clothes aren't even singed. He looks down at the spot where the attack hit him with a mild, almost annoyed curiosity, like a man who has just been splashed by a puddle.
"What was that?" (Kafka)
I can't breathe. Even if he has a high-level safety ring, the sheer force should have knocked him back or filled his eyes with the fear of death. They say no attack works against him, but even after watching it myself, I can't believe it. He isn't just a hunter; he is a monster in human skin.
Suddenly, a streak of pink blurs past my vision.
"Kafka baby, look! I saved her! I did a good job, right? Praise me!" (Luna)
Luna is suddenly standing there, drenched in spirit residue but grinning ear-to-ear. In her arms is the elf girl who was captive inside the creature. She has cut through its belly. But how could you make a cut in a spirit? Spirits are supposed to be intangible.
"It was anti-mana metal. Since we were traveling to the country of spirits and elves, I thought it could be helpful. It was Kafka's intention all along. He knew we'd need it." (Sophie)
My heart hammers against my ribs. When he said that one word—Move—Sophie knew to provide the anti-metal, Luna knew exactly when to strike, and the others knew how to distract the beast. Their coordination is terrifying. Even we elves, who have trained together for decades, can't match that level of silent, telepathic understanding.
"Attack." (Kafka)
Wait, what? We got an opening, and instead of retreating, you say "Attack"? No matter how strong they are, the difference in power is too big. But all the members of Death Hunters begin to attack as if they have complete faith in their leader's order.
"We won't stand still! Silver moon, show them the pride of the Elves! Attack!" (Lyra)
Spurred by Lyra's cry, we unleash everything. We cast spell after spell until my vision blurs and my veins feel like they are burning with mana depletion. One by one, we collapse. Lyra is on her knees, gasping for air, her beautiful face pale. We have given 100% of our power, and yet we have only reduced the spirit's mana by maybe 30%. I close my eyes, waiting for the spirit to finish us off.
But the sound of battle stops. A strange, heavy silence falls over the Drifting Road. I force my body to face toward the spirit. I can't believe what I'm seeing right now. The spirit is standing right in front of Kafka, but they are not fighting. All the members of Death Hunters are exhausted, but unlike us, they can still move. It looks like the spirit is talking to that human. The air vibrates with a low hum that speaks directly to my soul.
"Impossible. A spirit that powerful is trying to negotiate with a human? I have never heard of such a thing." (Lyra)
"Our country is in grave danger. Because of the excessive mana materials in the air, I lost control over myself. My mind was a storm... but your strikes cleared the clouds. Son of man... will you help save our land?" (Spirit)
"Yeah, sure." (Kafka)
The human agrees as if he is being asked to help carry groceries.
"Very well. I shall leave everything to you, son of a human. I need to rest in a closed space so I do not go berserk again. My strength is spent." (Spirit)
"Oh, I have just the place. You can rest in my treasure chest; there's a whole town inside it." (Kafka)
I watch, paralyzed, as Kafka reaches into his coat and produces a small, ornate chest. The high-ranking spirit—a creature we considered a god-like threat—simply dissolves into a stream of light and vanishes into the human's relic.
"Kafka baby, how did you do it? You were so cool!" (Luna)
"I knew Master was a God! He didn't even have to break a sweat!" (Lia)
"Brother, are you alright? I can't believe you negotiated with a spirit." (Olivia)
"Hmph. So, it was being swallowed by its own power, huh? Your attack order was to reduce its excess of power and restore its sanity. I was certainly concerned about the high concentration of Magic in the air, but Slyvaris seems to be in a slightly complicated situation since even a Spirit of that caliber has gathered enough power to cause it to go berserk. You saw through all of that the moment we arrived." (Lyra)
"Yup. That's right." (Kafka)
"You accepted the spirit's request without hesitation. We elves owe you a great deal. You have proven that your reputation is more than just talk." (Lyra)
I look at the ground; my pride shattered into a million pieces. This man... he isn't just a hunter. He is playing a game on a level we can't even perceive. I almost killed him, and he didn't even look at me. To him, I am probably just a minor detail in a much larger plan.