Chapter 37: True Intention (2)
[Nike.]
“…”
[Come now.]
Nike, who had been briefly dazed, opened his eyes at the witch’s urging voice.
His ashen pupils narrowed, then fixed far away on the Solar Cross.
Her eyes were covered, her mouth sewn shut with rusted wire. Even with that horrific appearance, the witch radiated a chilling presence, standing still like a sculpture.
She was a dreadful witch who had taken more lives than could be counted.
Why was such a woman there?
Why was she the one occupying the seat of the witch hunters’ leader?
That thought crossed Nike’s mind, and in silence, he placed his hand on the nearest corpse.
[…So you refuse, after all.]
Her tone was faintly disappointed.
Nike had burned the body of the young witch, the one Hestia had known. He did it himself, adapting the fire magic Morgana often used.
[Why, Nike?]
“…I don’t know.”
[Didn’t you vow to consume witches’ hearts, grow stronger, and then destroy them all?]
Her voice sounded almost resentful as she questioned him.
Nike ruffled his damp hair with his own hand, grimacing hard.
“I don’t want to eat it! I eat only beasts’ meat!”
Flash.
In that instant, dozens of eyes opened. Not physical eyes, but the malicious gazes of the witch.
Mana seeped into the Captain’s chamber, saturating it. The air temperature dropped. Soon, vapor spilled from Nike’s mouth.
Nike bared his teeth, furious at Morgana’s vile and sinister intent.
[It’s you. You are our last hope. So why make such a selfish choice?]
“…I am not selfish. You are.”
Nike’s words cut sharply.
Morgana knew he was right. She was only agitated because Nike would not bend to her will.
Neither a witch’s temptation nor magical brainwashing had any effect.
Vigo would never allow it, and if she tried, he would take her life.
Even so, Morgana longed for Nike, like a witch hunter losing himself to a witch’s charms.
She, who had once lured hundreds of witch hunters to their deaths, was instead being ensnared by Nike’s unintentional allure.
Though Nike didn't intend it, he exuded a demonic charm impossible to resist, and Morgana was slowly falling into it.
“…”
Nike kept silent. Morgana realized her mistake and apologized.
[…Forgive me. I lost myself for a moment.]
With red eyes, Nike gazed past the blindfold that seemed to pierce through everything.
His look carried the resolve that if needed, he would fight.
Morgana, without realizing it, broke into a cold sweat. Sweat she had never once shed even before Vigo.
If they fought, Morgana would obviously win. No matter how strong Nike was, she was still a sixth-rank witch, and he was in her palm.
‘…? —!’
However,
This moment.
That feeling.
Those eyes.
Beyond them.
Killing intent.
‘…Just now…’
Morgana had the instinct that if she had taken one wrong step here, something irreversible would have happened.
Her dress, nailed into her body, was soaked with sweat. Flesh faintly showed beneath.
‘So that is the 「something」 that killed Sestria. …I see.’
Morgana quickly regained her composure. Then she justified it to herself.
‘Yes. If he gave in easily, it wouldn’t be fun would it.’
She told herself it was more exciting this way.
Men who yielded too easily quickly grew boring for her.
Sweet fruit must ripen fully before it becomes truly flavorful.
Morgana withdrew her corrupt gazes. Nike relaxed his red demonic eyes, returning to his usual vacant expression.
‘…’
Morgana hid her dismay at his unpredictable demeanor.
It had been so long since she had felt the humiliation of being toyed with by someone else.
Hmph. She scoffed inwardly. The more she looked, the more interesting he was.
Even knowing that her fascination with him was like drinking seawater, she instinctively realized she could not stop.
[…]
“…”
A strange tension lingered in the room for a moment.
Though it seemed nothing had happened, they had been on the brink of battle.
Several of the Captain’s chamber windows had cracked.
No physical blows had been exchanged, but the collision of killing intent and presence alone had been immense.
From this, Morgana recognized Nike’s danger, and Nike confirmed Morgana’s dark inner nature.
He still didn’t know her true intentions, but the witch nailed in place was still black-hearted.
Even if her reactions were something she showed only to Nike.
“…I’m hungry.”
As time passed, Nike rubbed his belly, wanting to leave.
The condemned who had been still, moved again. The old man handed Nike a glass bottle.
“What is it.”
[It’s a gift.]
Nike narrowed his eyes. Eat this now? Why should he trust it?
[You can trust it, Nike. Even if you don’t trust me, my wish for you to grow stronger is genuine.]
Of course it was.
Too genuine, which was the problem.
Believing she wouldn’t pull any tricks at this moment, Nike opened the bottle and brought it to his lips.
Inside was not a potion. A blue energy flowed out like smoke.
“Hmmm…? It has no taste!”
Finding it tasteless, Nike scowled. Morgana laughed telepathically.
[Wait a moment.]
“Ah!?”
As she said, Nike immediately felt the change. He pounded his chest with his fist.
“My mana… increased?!”
The condemned nodded slowly.
[That is the mana essence extracted from that witch’s heart.]
“…Hah!?”
[I knew you wouldn’t eat it, so I extracted it in advance.]
Nike was too stunned to reply.
As expected of a witch.
Had she predicted even this and decided to toy with him?
She seemed delighted, though her real body’s mouth and eyes never opened.
“…”
[Nike is a witch, but he is not like a witch.]
His kindness was proof.
[So I believed you would not consume human flesh.]
“You knew and still mocked me?!”
[Mocking you is my greatest amusement after all.]
“I’ll kill you!”
Nike flared up.
[As I said, it is still too early for you to kill me.]
Morgana returned his threat as a joke, almost stressing the point.
“Ugh! I hate this. I hate it so much!”
[From your reaction, it seems extracting and consuming mana is acceptable.]
“I hate that too!”
[Understood. From now on, I will help you consume it this way.]
She was carried away with glee.
No one else in Vilnogos would understand how thrilling it was to brush against the 「forbidden」 through Nike.
As Nike stomped in frustration, the Captain’s chamber door opened.
[My business is finished. Now go and fulfill your mission.]
“…Mission?”
[It is time to hunt.]
Morgana ignored the wires that sewed her mouth shut and laughed aloud. White blood flowed down her chin and dripped.
She was happy, because Nike was happy.
“Leave it to me!”
[Yes. And congratulations on mastering distortion.]
Nike flinched.
So she knew.
He halted mid-step.
[It seems my guidance was never needed as expected. You may not gain anything from a first-rank witch, but if you continue like this, one day you too will…]
Letting her words trail intentionally, Morgana smiled faintly, with blood coming out of her mouth.
Nike cast her a downward glance, then walked on.
Outside, Rowen was waiting.
* * *
Rowen led Nike out from the central tower to beyond the front gates.
After walking some distance, they reached the foot of a mountain. Their destination was near, and Rowen spoke.
“The master said he wanted to go on a walk.”
“A walk?”
“Go up a bit and he’ll be there. Good luck.”
Rowen left as they reached the mountain. It was time for a walk with Vigo alone.
Nike began climbing. It had been a while since he had hiked, and he felt oddly glad, almost as if returning to his true home.
Bounding happily upward, he found Vigo resting on a rock above, holding a bottle. Vigo greeted him.
“Yoo— waiting was boring, you know.”
Vigo laughed heartily and offered Nike a drink.
The smell of alcohol spread, and Nike wrinkled his nose, refusing firmly saying he was underage.
“You keep to that rule? You are such a picky brat in the strangest ways.”
“Looking for a fight?”
“Watch your mouth with your superior… Whatever. Let’s climb. The summit’s a fine sight.”
Vigo wore his usual hunter garb. Nike wondered if he owned anything else. Even he himself rotated between two sets of cloth clothes.
Hands behind his back, Vigo ascended, and Nike followed. Nike was nearly like a beast of the mountains, but even at his age, Vigo moved as if flying.
His steps were so light it looked like he was walking on flat ground.
They climbed for a long time. Neither said a word. More precisely, Nike had no chance to speak, too busy keeping pace.
Concentrating was the only way not to fall behind.
By sunset, they had reached a height where Vilnogos looked like a model city below.
Suddenly, Vigo crouched and gestured to Nike.
‘Conceal.’
Nike remembered the signal from training. He immediately hid beside Vigo and held his breath.
Vigo watched ahead cautiously, whispering.
“Nike. See that?”
Nike peeked over the rock, his ashen eyes widening their focus.
“A deer.”
Indeed, a stag grazed calmly. Vigo smiled, satisfied.
“Correct. That’ll be our dinner.”
He drew the dagger strapped to his calf and handed it to Nike.
“Hunt it. I’m hungry.”
“Me?”
“We climbed too far. This old man has no strength.”
Leaning against the rock, Vigo sat down. Nike nodded. If the boss was hungry, it was natural for the subordinate to hunt.
Nike prepared to leap forward, but Vigo grabbed his leg.
“Fool. Use only the dagger.”
“Why?”
“A deer’s no fool. Charge at it and it’ll flee, then we’ll be chasing it for hours. Your master is hungry.”
So the old boss was very hungry! Nike looked at him with pity, then gripped the dagger.
Its tip was coated with poison.
Tools in hunting were the way of cowardly men, but for Vigo’s sake, Nike accepted it.
Whoosh!
“Hunt! Success!”
The deer collapsed instantly, with the dagger lodged in its neck. Vigo stared at it, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.
‘As expected…’
Then he clapped loudly, praising Nike.
“As I thought! Growing up in the mountains, hunting is child’s play for you! If we ever get stranded on an island, I’ll have to find you first!”
“Leave it to me!”
Nike’s shoulders swelled with pride. Vigo’s praise was always generous, his booming voice was pleasant to hear.
“Hahaha! Now leave dinner to me. I’ll show you the finest venison dish.”
“Oh!”
* * *
“Watch the order of preparation. A witch hunter spends half his life camping, so it’s good to learn things like this.”
Vigo hung the deer on branches, slit its throat to bleed it, gutted it, and skinned it with skilled hands.
“Oooh…”
Nike, used to eating raw meat or sometimes grilling it over fire, was seeing a new world.
So that’s how cooking was done with knives. This walk with Vigo had much to teach him.
“I’m back!”
“Well done. Put it on the fire.”
At his request, Nike brought water from the stream.
Vigo cut the best portions and began cooking. Vegetables and meat went into a pot, seasoned with spices he had somehow prepared.
Venison stew was ready. Nike could hardly keep from drooling.
“Go on, eat. It’s stew from the deer you hunted.”
“Me. Chef.”
Nike accepted the bowl and devoured it. It tasted incredible, unbelievable for food made in the mountains.
“Flavor, perfect.”
“Ahahahaha! Thanks. I’d thought of opening a food shop after retirement. You give me courage.”
“First-class chef.”
Vigo laughed loudly, raising his spoon. The sun had set, and without the fire, night would have been pitch dark.
The mountain wind was chilly. Nike ate three more bowls of stew.
“Ugh.”
Full belly, warm fire. He grew sleepy. The climb had tired him more than he expected it to.
“Hmm. We’ll reach the summit tomorrow.”
Vigo set down his bowl and looked to the peak. The moon and stars hung above.
He gazed at the night sky, then spoke.
“How much have you studied witches?”
“They are evil.”
“Good answer.”
Vigo nodded slowly at his simple reply.
Evil beings that brought disaster upon the world. A very straightforward answer.
“Witch hunters worked endlessly to kill those evils.”
“I know.”
“And you learned a human body alone could never stand against them. Hunters used tools, stole their magic to adapt it. But there is something surprisingly effective and deadly. Do you know what it is?”
Nike, drowsy, turned his head. His body was heavy, so his neck barely moved.
“It’s the poison of the Attri leaf. It’s poison hard even for magic to cleanse. Once ingested, or even brushed, hunters can catch weaker witches easily.”
“…Poison.”
Nike’s eyelids fluttered. His fingers trembled.
“Strangely, that plant with blue leaves reacts only to mana, suppressing it. It halts regeneration, and in that gap, you strike to kill. Simple yet most efficient hunting.”
“Eh, uh…”
Nike’s tongue slurred. He tried to move his finger but it didn’t work. His body would not obey him.
“Kegh…?”
By the time he sensed something was wrong, it was too late. Vigo rose slowly, his shadow stretching long.
“The dagger you threw earlier was coated with the poison I spoke of.”
“Egh.”
“They haven’t taught you to tell poisons apart yet at the training school?”
Nike still didn't understand what this meant.
Vigo had poisoned the food.
No, more precisely, Nike had failed to realize the obvious.
Vigo’s lips twisted into a sneer, stretching into a grin.
“You might trick the others… but not me. Spawn of a witch.”
“…Hah?”
“Now die.”