“ZzzZzzzzzZzzZ.”
The red-haired boy snored away in the tree. His eyes soon opened and he took a few moments to process the scenery before him.
“Where am I?”
This was a far taller tree than the one he slept on earlier and there was no sign of the carriages nor the path he had travelled on.
He looked at his chest to see a part of his shirt had been cut though, there was no wound underneath. There were some splatters of blood on him as well.
He soon began rubbing his head trying to recall what happened. A familiar voice jogged his memory.
(“You've woken up, haven't you? Then get a move on.”)
“Huh? Wait a minute, how'd I escape?” he asked.
(“It seems the girl showed you mercy or maybe she believed you died? She left you after healing your wounds and I moved you out of there.”)
“Wha- what do you mean moved me? Do you have a physical body?”
(“Stop with the unnecessary questions and begin moving. For the time being head north, I'll tell you when to go in a specific direction.”)
“Hey, don't act like we don't have time, you said we'd have two days till we reached there, right? Can't you explain some stuff to me on the way?”
(“...”)
The silence was deafening and Tibaut begrudgingly came down from the tree.
“What an asshole. Whatever, I just have to do this then quickly head back to Elizabeth and the others. I can deal with her in the future.”
(“Deal with me? Aren't you ambitious, human?”)
He began running but the voice in his head soon had a complaint.
(“You don't know what direction is north, do you?”)
“Shut up!” He said, immediately stopping. He looked around his surroundings, unsure of where to go.
(“Turn 90° clockwise and continue running.”)
“...thanks.”
----------------------------------------
Tibaut had tried numerous icebreakers throughout his journey but all that resulted was him being left in silence.
He stopped by a nearby river to wash his shirt.
“Holy shit this is a lot of blood! And it's all mine?” he asked.
(“Yes, Gabriel's Saint is a miracle worker.”) He sarcastically remarked.
“Gabriel's Saint?” He asked.
(“If you're so interested, you can ask the woman when you two meet again.”)
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“Come on, you're the one who brought it up, tell me.”
(“...”)
He wrung his shirt out and attempted to use his magic to dry his shirt out. The word attempted was used because he fell to the floor clutching the hand he used to summon his magic.
“AAAGGGRHRBRBRHHH” He shouted in pain.
This pain was in another league. It felt like an intensified version of the pain he experienced after overusing his magic. He crawled to the river and placed his hands in the cold river, to alleviate the pain.
“What the fuck is this!?” he shouted.
The red drake had no response.
“Answer me you asshole!”
(“Hmm, you should be fine if you don't use magic until we reach our destination.”)
“Tell me what happened to my arms!” He shouted.
He had tears in his eyes and kicked at the ground as the pain surged through his arm. He looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum which amused the drake (they wouldn't admit this, of course.)
A few hours passed and his arm started to feel normal again.
“Just do it, Tibaut. Once this is over… it probably won't end after I do this, will it?”
(“Correct!”)
“Don't sound so glad, you bastard!”
With a cold arm and a damp shirt, he continued on his journey.
----------------------------------------
(“Hoh, we've made better progress than I've imagined.”) The drake commented.
“Alright, so here's probably a good place to rest?”
“What are you talking about? We're already so close.”
“Please.” He requested. He had been doing a mixture of jogging and running for over 12 hours now. His legs weren't anywhere near the condition his arm was but they were getting sore.
(“Get going.”)
He sighed and looked at the ground before him. He took another step and felt an odd sensation.
“What was that?” he asked.
(“Oh, that was a barrier.”)
“Barrier? (I guess if you can use magic for shields then this isn't too surprising) But wait a minute, why didn't it stop me?” He asked while looking around. He heard an odd sound in the distance and turned to face it.
(“Because it was meant to detect intruders. You should be glad it wasn't a defensive one or this would take much longer.”)
The source of the sound became obvious. It was several men on horses approaching him.
(“They're enemies by the way, so you might want to get started.”)
“What? You bastard, did you set me up?”
(“Get to it before they realise you're an enemy.”)
He motioned to throw a fireball but quickly remembered what happened a few hours earlier and drew back his hand.
Plus it wasn't certain these men were enemies, the voice in his head might just be overly cautious.
That thought was soon thrown out the window when one of the men threw a bolt of lightning at him.
(“Feel like making any more assumptions?”)
He gritted his teeth and hurled all the swears he could think of at the voice before charging towards them.
As one of the men got closer he kicked out the legs of his horse sending him and the man to the floor.
(“Thank God that worked out, I can't imagine how badly that would have turned out if I wasn't as durable as I thought.”)
The horse neighed in pain and the former rider struggled to push the horse off him. Tibaut swiftly delivered a kick to his head and dodged a stone rod that came from the ground. It impaled both the horse and its rider and nearly made a victim out of Tibaut, scraping the side of his torso.
(“I can't believe you let such a slow attack touch you. Shut up and let me focus!”)
He kicked himself off the rod and looked at the remainder of the riders. Three were left.