IBTRFL Chapter 40

The Crow

A dry and stifling wind cut across the barren valley.

Sparse scrub grew in scattered patches on pale yellow rock, swaying faintly, and thick slabs of stone crumbled down along the steep slopes.

A mercenary waved a hand, trying to push back the cloud of dust that had settled over everything.

The gritty taste on his lips and in his nose made his face screw up on its own.

No matter how he looked at it, he was going to die in this life from lung disease, not from fighting magic beasts.

He pulled off his helmet and reached for his leather canteen.

"What—no decent beasts anywhere?"

"Because of the Crow."

His companion sighed the answer out. The mercenary rolled his eyes and brought the canteen to his mouth.

Lukewarm water with the taste of rock and grit baked deep into it. You couldn't call it good. In Saksum, though, even this was precious.

The canteen was empty in moments. He tipped it back and shook it, and a few drops was all that came out.

He clicked his tongue and ran it over his teeth.

"Let's just head back. We're almost out of food."

"......"

Crouching and scanning the ground nearby, the second mercenary clicked his tongue. His eyes swept the desolate valley with a lingering, reluctant look.

They'd combed this stretch for days and hadn't spotted so much as a beast's tail-fur.

All they'd managed to see was a healthy quantity of unidentified bone fragments and sun-bleached droppings.

"We got that herb, at least."

"......Without that, this trip was a total loss."

"Fine, get up. Back to the city."

His partner's prompting made him straighten his knees.

The two of them turned toward the city. That was when it came.

A strange shudder moved through the soles of their feet.

Their eyes went straight to the shallow pool nearby. Ripples were spreading across the still surface.

"Hey."

"......Yeah."

It was getting closer. A drumming, rapid series of impacts—heavy footfalls—rolling out without stopping.

Both drew their weapons and turned.

Through the curtain of dust, something terrible emerged.

A scorpion the size of a large bull.

The ivory shell encasing it looked like armored plate. The two pincers were large enough to snap a person cleanly in half without effort.

The two men watched it come with their eyes gone slack.

Under their helmets their faces had turned the color of paper. The hands gripping their weapons were slick and running.

The mercenary who'd frozen solid managed to get some words out.

"Hey—that—that's what I think it is, right?"

"......Greutan.” A beat. “Hasn’t been seen in five years.”

"We can't—we can't fight that—how would we even—"

Neither of them finished the sentence.

They’d gone too deep.

There was no other group of mercenaries within calling distance. Even if there were, even if they combined what strength they had, making it back alive wasn't a certainty.

Running was equally impossible. Third-rate mercenary legs would be overtaken before they'd covered any distance worth mentioning.

"......"

His eyes moved, looking for somewhere to hide. There was nothing. Not even a gap to crawl into.

An old skull sat there, mocking him. You’ll look just like me soon.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Something's wrong."

One mercenary pointed toward the Greutan's tail end. The stinger that should have been there was gone. The cut surface looked smooth and clean, weeping green-red blood in all directions.

At this distance they hadn't caught it before. Coming closer made it visible.

The shell was cracked as if something had struck it with considerable force. One pincer had been crushed. Where limbs had been severed, blood still flowed.

The creature was wounded. It was running—away from whatever had done this to it.

"Hey! Look—look at that—"

"Yeah. I see it."

Behind the massive body, the faint shape of a person flickered in and out of view. The moment they made out who it was, both men’s eyes shone with hope.

"Th—the Crow!"

A long robe. A matte black mask covering the entire face. The unknown figure that had been turning Saksum upside down for weeks.

Then one mercenary pointed at the Greutan, which had come alarmingly close.

"That—I think it's getting too near—"

The words weren't finished when a violent column of fire erupted from below the Greutan's belly.

A blast of heat that could have melted stone. Both mercenaries stumbled backward and hit the ground.

The enormous body launched upward. The Crow vaulted off the earth and landed between the fallen men and the beast, back to them, facing out.

An actual mage. The rumors were real.

Both men lifted their heads from the ground and stared at the back blocking their view. Their blank stares were full of it—relief, and a curiosity neither of them could shake.

The Crow dropped to one knee and placed a gloved hand flat on the earth.

A strange pulse sank into the ground. What had been level a moment before rose in a violent upheaval.

Boulders erupted from the dirt. The falling Greutan slammed into them. The stones punched through its belly.

Green-red blood soaked the dry earth.

The remaining legs twitched for a few seconds and then went slack.

The Crow dusted off their hands and rose. The ground that had torn itself open shuddered and smoothed back into place.

"H—hey!"

One of the mercenaries came back to himself and called out. He didn’t know why, but somehow he wanted to stop them.

The Crow ignored it entirely. One hand seized the Greutan's tail and dragged the carcass deeper into the valley.

The valley went quiet behind them.

Magic beasts hiding in the deeper gorge lifted their heads at unfamiliar sounds, then smelled the blood of a predator and pressed themselves back down.

The footsteps stopped at the darkest part of the gorge—a stretch that no ordinary mercenary would have thought to enter unless they had lost their mind entirely.

"Hot."

An uncanny voice.

Not male, not female. Not old, not young. No age, no sex that anyone could place—a voice so alien it stood every fine hair on the body upright.

Gloves were yanked off roughly and dropped to the ground without care. The hands beneath them were very pale.

The Crow wiped their sweat-damp hands on their thighs a few times, then pulled off the stifling mask.

A plain, sweat-damp face appeared in the sunlight.

The air of the wasteland touched damp skin. It was dry and lukewarm, but even that felt like relief.

"Everything's perfect except for the suffocating part."

Aer looked down at the mask in her hand with genuine regret. She'd found it in a locked chest in the bandit-knight's room.

She hadn't understood why anyone would bother hiding an ordinary mask. Not until she'd worn it.

"A relic from a ruin."

She muttered it fondly and turned the mask over in her hands. After a vicious fight, not a mark on it.

She pocketed it.

Drew her dagger and stood over the carcass.

A precise cut opened the flesh above the gut-wound. Dark blood seeped out and muddied her line of sight. The blade moved through it anyway, practiced and steady.

She worked through the carcass with no wasted motion—fast through bone, careful where the flesh yielded.

In the deep interior, a heart that still held some warmth.

She opened it. The gleam she'd been hoping for came back to her.

"There it is!"

The sound came out before she'd decided to make it. Her hand, trembling with it, lifted the stone.

She gathered water from the air and washed the stone clean.

A somewhat cloudy thing, about the size of an egg. Far below the quality of Ertorix's stone—but she was grateful for it even so.

From the moment she'd arrived in Saksum she'd swept up every magic beast she could find. Two weeks of hunting day and night, and the count of soul stones including this one stood at exactly three.

"I had no idea how lucky I was back then."

Still—all three were better quality than the Glanst stone had been.

Aer stared blankly at the glowing stone, then put it in her mouth.

It met her teeth harder than the others. The taste was nothing remarkable.

Just earth. But at the very last moment, a faint sweetness that wound around the tip of the tongue—she’d noticed it every time. She had come to like that part.

"......Honestly."

'How did I end up like this.'

She let out a breath, raised both arms, and stretched.

The new soul folded into the existing ones without resistance.

"Maybe time to move on."

Saksum was a city of gorges and wasteland. The soul stones available in this area were limited to one attribute. That was fine for now—but a soul of earth grown this bloated might start exerting a negative influence.

"......God."

Magic is still an unfamiliar force. Even now. Even after all this time.

She dragged her fingers over her cheek without much energy and put the mask back on.

The mask contracted around her face like something alive, fitting itself to every surface until there was no gap. It was not a pleasant sensation. Her skin was already protesting.

“Sell it quick and eat.”

Aer gathered the carcass and started walking.