I slept surprisingly well, dreaming of my past, peaceful earthly life, training sessions, and chatter with teammates from the gymnastics team. I didn't remember the specifics, but the slight smile on my lips when I opened my eyes unambiguously hinted that the dream had been pleasant. There were no achievements or grand performances in it, just peaceful, everyday interaction, which I had already been significantly unaccustomed to.
A pleasant aroma, thinly seeping through the slightly opened window from the kitchen, woke me up. Glancing at the sky, I realized that I had not only slept well but also for a long time, as the sun had already risen an hour ago. After getting dressed, I washed up in a basin of cool water, rinsed my teeth with a magical elixir that served as toothpaste and a brush for the locals, and went downstairs to the hall. It was still empty; apparently, aside from me, no other guests had appeared here last night. Hearing footsteps, Valena emerged from the utility room with a piece of fabric in her hands. I didn't quite like the expression on her face - it was somewhat guilty but with slight stubbornness at the corners of her mouth.
"Good morning, may Dairin and Antares light up your day," I greeted. "I hope your night was as good as mine. Your beds and pillows are wonderfully soft," I complimented, trying to improve the innkeeper's mood somewhat.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Raven," said Valena, sitting on a high stool behind the counter, placing the fabric in front of her but not unrolling it, which made me even more alert. "I've informed the kitchen, and your breakfast will be brought to you soon."
"I see you worked all night. How is it? Any success?" I asked.
"Yes, almost everything is done, but..." the plump woman put her hand on the fabric and grimaced. "Unfortunately, not everything. One detail is missing." Unrolling the fabric, she showed the design. "As you can see, the spear that the raven is throwing downwards, as you wanted, is not there. But if you can wait a couple of hours, I'll embroider it," she said in a tone I couldn't quite understand.
"Two hours?" That wasn't critical, I thought. After eating and fetching the case for Boundless Pride, all in all, I could wait. "No problem, Mrs. Valena," I smiled, but this answer seemed to upset her for some reason.
"Ah... I wanted to trick you..." she sighed heavily. "Alright, I'll tell it as it is. Actually, I finished the embroidery three hours ago, but... Mr. Raven, the spear just doesn't fit into the picture. May Antares forgive me, I don't mean to advise you, but please take a look, try it on!"
Approaching the counter, I removed my belt, took the cotta, and draped it over my shirt, then belted myself again.
"It looks good," I said.
I really liked it, especially the raven, which turned out exactly as I wanted, and the lightning against the dark fabric with streaks looked fitting.
"There you go!" Valena looked up at the ceiling with evident relief. "Now imagine the spear you wanted. It," leaning over the counter, she traced the outline on the cotta with a long knitting needle, "is redundant. Look, making it fall flat would lose all meaning, as if the raven is shedding excess weight. But if the spear points downward, as you envisioned, look where the tip would point…" She blushed deeply because, in such a layout, the spear indeed pointed to the groin. "Maybe you intended that; I have nothing against it; I've never understood male hints. But if it's a hint at something, like a threat to your foes, what would this picture look like from the back?" She grimaced. "A pointer to your rear end? Sorry, but you didn't seem like that kind of person to me… Maybe I'm mistaken…"
No! I don't need such implications at sexual quirks! Valena probably meant something else, but the earthlings that fate would bring me to would definitely draw such an association, seeing a spear pointed at my backside.
"I'm lucky to have you," I said, looking up and smiling. "Not only did you embroider a stunning picture, but you also prevented me from spoiling it."
"I didn't…" She blushed and stammered. "It wasn't advice at all. It's up to you to decide what you need and what you don't. If you really need the spear positioned that way, I can embroider it without any trouble…"
"Mrs. Valena, you did everything right." I didn't have to force a smile, as my smile was quite genuine. "I indeed overlooked such a detail, and your correction only honors you."
"It's not the master's place to correct the client." Valena shook her head, but her lips relaxed, the stubborn folds disappeared from her face, and her eyes showed evident relief. "Take it off… I need to make a few adjustments. When you put on the cotta, I noticed that one wing needs to be re-sewn, and this lightning," her needle pointed out which one, "should be a third longer. Otherwise, there's a large empty space. That's about a half-hour's work. You'll have breakfast in the meantime."
The picture, as it was, seemed excellent to me. The raven portrayed on it looked exactly as it should, like a harbinger of the apocalypse that it had long warned everyone about, but no one ever listened to it. However, this was probably just my imagination playing tricks on me, giving a known meaning only to me to the embroidered picture. But, as they say, "the master knows best," and I obediently took off my coat, handing it over to the hostess. At that moment, a maid brought breakfast, and, with a nod to her, Valena retreated to the back room, leaving me alone.
The meal was simple but filling. Steamed vegetables and porridge with bits of bird meat, apparently cooked in a thick broth. The breakfast was perfect for those facing a long journey. After thanking for the food, I asked the maid to tell Valena that I would return soon and, slinging my backpack over my shoulders, stepped out onto the street.
The morning sun rays pleasantly warmed me, and a light northern breeze kept my skin from getting too hot. The weather was truly summery, and it didn't seem like, according to Valena, there had been frequent rains for many weeks before; there was no hint of it now.
As in any other village that relied on agriculture, nobody was asleep at this time. Most adults were in the fields, but there were many children on the narrow streets. They stared at me, a stranger, but nobody bothered me; instead, they tried to keep their distance. Even the people who had followed me the day before were no longer there. Apparently, the innkeeper had told them that I was not to be feared.
The woodworker wasn't asleep either, and just like during our previous meeting, he sat on the steps of the porch, whittling the same figurine. As it turned out, the old man had finished the work I had ordered even before dawn. The result he showed me was, in principle, satisfactory. The case turned out exactly as I wanted. Not a masterpiece, not a work of art, but a purely utilitarian item for carrying an object of a certain size. And despite the fact that the master decorated it with carvings and covered it with some kind of varnish or stain, making the wood even darker, the case did not give off an impression of wealth, which was just what I needed. The less attention it attracted, the better for me. Thanks to some simple household magic, the case was already ready, and even the varnish on it managed to dry. As a means of attachment, the master screwed two simple iron rings into the ends.
"In our village, there are no leatherworkers, and I don't have suitable straps," the old man explained calmly, shrugging. "You can order straps from the neighboring village; I can send my nephew there with the order. It'll take a couple of days, including the journey," he added.
"I'd rather not lose time," I replied.
"Then you can temporarily thread some ordinary cord through the rings," he said, taking a small coil of thin rope off the wall of the barn, "like this, for example."
Eventually, we agreed on a silver coin, and the woodworker measured the necessary amount of rope, cut it into two pieces, and threaded it through the rings. After that, I slung the case over my back and tied a sliding knot in the ropes, allowing me to easily adjust the length of the cord. What I demonstrated greatly interested the old master. Such clever knots were not common here, far from the sea. I didn't mind, so I untied and retied it several times in front of the carpenter, explaining my actions. Despite his considerable age, the master quickly grasped the concept and was able to replicate the knot himself after the third demonstration.
After settling the final account, I said goodbye to the old carpenter. The narrow rope chafed my shoulder a bit, but once I put on my gambeson, this inconvenience would disappear. And, if necessary, as the old man suggested, I could order more comfortable straps for the case in any town along the way.
Returning to the inn, I immediately went up to my room and, after closing the door, made sure to prop it with a stool. I unfolded Boundless Pride and carefully placed it in the case. The sword, following our agreement, remained silent, but I sensed its mood. Pride did not like being hidden from prying eyes. This strange sword enjoyed human attention. It had been deprived of it for over two millennia, and now I was hiding it again, first wrapped in fabric, then placed in a wooden case.
"You draw too much attention," I said after the blade fit perfectly into the case. "Yes, most have forgotten you. You're a legend, a fairy tale for children. But in the Artifactors' Guild, your description definitely exists. Do you want them to experiment on you? Or to be placed behind glass in their central storage, forgetting what sunlight looks like for another few centuries?" At my words, the sword's displeasure slightly subsided. "Thought so," I said, closing the case.
How much easier everything would be if I could just take Pride in my hands and wield this sword! But it's not meant to be. Without fulfilling the conditions of the curse, the sword would quickly consume my soul, and the more often I used it, the faster this would happen.
Fully dressed, I packed my bags, slung the backpack and the case with the blade over my back, and then left the room, descending to the inn's hall.
"O-o-oh!" was all Valena could say upon seeing the design of my gambeson for the first time. She was so surprised, staring at the bright, eye-catching winged butts, that she even dropped her knitting needle. It was only the noise of the needle hitting the floor that made her close her mouth and blush. "I'm sorry, but your outfit is too unusual for our places," she said as if justifying herself, her face turning red.
"This, as you called it, outfit, is not a reflection of my unusual taste. It's someone else's joke, which one person found funny," I said, cracking my knuckles demonstratively. "And when I meet this joker again, which I hope will be quite soon, he will have to answer for his prank."
"Oh! So that's why you need…" The woman trailed off, lowering her gaze to the coat in her hands.
"Honestly," I didn't deny it, "I needed the cotta precisely to hide these drawings from prying eyes. But!" A genuinely sincere smile appeared on my face, "seeing how well you executed the drawing, I think that even if I buy new armor, I will still wear this coat over it."
"You really liked it?" the hostess asked, delighted. "Then let's try it on!"
There is a difference between an item made by a good master who approaches the task without emotion and something created by an amateur who puts their whole self into the work. In the drawing on the coat, in the way Valena depicted the raven flying in a stormy sky, there was something soul-stirring. The orcish belt that I cinched over the cotta, with its deliberate roughness, added even more symbolism to the embroidery.
While I admired Valena's handiwork, she went to the kitchen and brought back a small basket of travel food. As I distributed these supplies among my bags, since there was no room left in my hands for the basket, I asked the former tunneller about the local roads and paths.
"So, there's no direct road to the Rur region from here," I concluded after listening to the innkeeper.
"Yes, if you go straight west on our path, it will soon turn south, and you'll have to make a big detour, at least two days' travel."
"Are there no other roads?" I asked, just in case.
"There are indeed no roads," agreed Valena, "but there are many trails used by the peasants. For example, the nearest town, where merchants pay a good price for grain and vegetables, is not far in a straight line, but there are no good roads to it. However, that didn't stop the peasants, and about ten or more years ago, they cleared a path and made their own trail. It's hard to call it a road; when it's rainy, it gets so washed out that carts get stuck in the mud. But now everything has dried up, and, for example, several carts left Flourmillton at dawn in that direction."
"What about going straight through the fields and forests?" I clarified.
"You're Wootz, so you could," she shrugged. "But I still wouldn't recommend it. Right on the way, there's a big swamp, and the rains only ended recently, so even for you, it won't be easy. I don't think a couple of sunny days are enough to dry the marshland enough to support an adult's weight." The woman grimaced and continued. "Besides, they say all sorts of... nasty... and dangerous things live there."
"Even for a Wootz?" I asked though I had no intention of venturing into the swamp.
I had enough memories of the Last Cycle to sincerely hate any marshes, it seems, for many reincarnations to come.
"It depends on what's grown there and its size," Valena laughed easily and casually.
"You've convinced me," I replied to her smile. "I won't venture into the swamp."
"So you've decided to go not by the main path but by the peasant trail?"
"Yes."
"Then, if it's not too much trouble for you..." The woman bustled about, ran to the kitchen, and returned with a small parcel. "You'll definitely catch up to the peasant wagons. Could you deliver this gift to my nephew Troykun? He's a hunter and went with the peasants; he needs to buy something in Yonna." This was the name of the town where the local peasants traded, and as far as I remembered, it bordered the Rur region.
"I'll deliver it. It's no trouble for me."
"And if you don't meet him, then eat it yourself; it's a few berry patties." She said, handing me the parcel. "I won't be offended."
"Thank you for the lodging and your work." Standing up from the stool, I picked up my bags and took the spear in my hands. "But the Road does not wait."
"May Sundbad protect you, master Raven."
"May Dairin be kind to your home," I replied, saying goodbye, and left the cozy inn.
The trail, or rather a country road wide enough for a horse-drawn cart to pass, was relatively easy to find. Valena's description was detailed, and the road began at the edge of the village and the lake, making it hard to miss. Judging by the fresh wheel traces, several loaded carts had passed through. These tracks were dry, not betraying the recent weeks of continuous rain mentioned by the innkeeper; the hot summer sun had thoroughly dried everything.
Since the path wasn't a paved road, I decided not to run in my usual manner, preferring to walk briskly. The region of Ain I needed to reach wasn't far by a straight line, and if it weren't for the swamps ahead, I would have likely ignored the tracks, trails, and roads, and run straight through. But... I hate swamps! Moreover, a direct path through the marshes could easily turn into a colossal waste of time rather than a shortcut. Besides, Ain's swamps harbor all sorts of monsters!
Swamp creatures are perhaps some of the most unpleasant opponents for anyone. They are strong, unusual, and often unpredictable, and their skill sets are well adapted for life and hunting in the wetlands. Also, punitive raids against them, even by high-ranking hunters, are barely effective. These monsters are excellent at hiding; in danger, they submerge to the bottom, disguising themselves as logs or piles of muck. Fortunately, creatures inhabiting swamps rarely leave their territory, and if they do, they don't stray far. In the Last Cycle, "I" had enough troubles with these beings and was not eager to encounter any of them again, even at Wootz.
Unlike the straight-as-an-arrow trade routes, the trail made by peasants constantly meandered. The dense forest, familiar even to an earthling, was not sliced through like a knife; instead, the path wound through it like a rope thrown carelessly onto the ground. If you cast a look back, the trail, just fifty steps behind, would be invisible, having turned again, hidden by trees or thickets of shrubbery.
To make the most of my time while walking at a steady pace, I practiced sustaining Auras, indirectly developing my Mental abilities in the process. My main focus was on the Strengthening Aura, enhancing the new case that held Boundless Pride. I wasn't just strengthening the wood from which the box was made but also channeling energy into the two Ors runes I had inscribed on it: one on the base and the other on the lid. Working with Runes by feeding them with aura was relatively new to me, as I didn't have this combination of skills in my arsenal in the Last Cycle. Therefore, this task wasn't as easy as I would have liked, but it was intriguing. Moreover, I understood the potential strength of this combination and spared no effort to master it as soon as possible.
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I became so engrossed in the process that I temporarily deactivated all other auras, focusing entirely on Strengthening and infusing the Runes with energy. I tried to make the flows of mana and spirit more even and smooth and, consequently, less draining. I even achieved a minor success, although I realized I was just at the beginning of mastering using these skills in tandem.
Since my Perception Aura was not active, I failed to notice the upcoming trouble in time. Not expecting any problems, my vigilance had significantly decreased. A terrible scream ahead, as if someone was being burned alive, jolted me out of my meditative training process. Quickly reactivating my Perception Aura, I immediately heard other concerning sounds. Just around the next bend in the trail, something terrible was apparently happening, causing human screams and panicked neighing of horses. Dropping my travel bags right on the path and shifting my spear into a combat position, I dashed forward. I accelerated so abruptly that chunks of earth were torn from where I had stood. My new boots squeaked in protest, but as I hadn't deactivated the Strengthening Aura, they withstood the substantial strain.
My worst fears were confirmed as soon as I rounded the trail's bend. Three peasant carts laden with vegetables and sacks of flour were being attacked by swamp creatures. The monsters resembled wet logs, with multiple long, flexible vines protruding like insect legs, allowing them to move. Deikans. This type of monster, thanks to the "memory of the future," was very familiar to me. They are like "animated" logs, once engulfed by the swamp, coming to a bizarre life. On both sides, these logs are split open as if by a giant axe, forming a sort of huge wooden maw with petrified fish bones instead of conventional teeth. These monsters can vary greatly in size and, consequently, the danger they pose.
The peasants traveling to trade were lucky that the smallest variety of deikans attacked them, no larger than a big yard dog. But how lucky was that, really? One of the peasants was already lying face down on the ground, curled up in pain, holding his stomach, and moaning quietly. However, the situation for the others wasn't as dire. Abandoning two carts, the peasants had formed a circular defense around the third. Each of them wielded a weapon - some had pitchforks, others ordinary carpenter's axes. However, since all the peasants were no higher than Iron rank, even these small deikans would soon tear them to pieces. But the peasants were not alone. Balancing on sacks of flour on the cart stood two archers, repeatedly shooting their arrows at the creatures. One of the archers, looking like a typical hunter, probably Valena's nephew, was giving quite effective orders and preventing the peasants from panicking. The other archer, with a short but powerful steppe bow, turned out to be the same bard I had overtaken on the road the day before.
Since the monsters attacking the peasant caravan were essentially just animated, possibly by magic or some ancient curse, pieces of wood, it was challenging to harm them with arrows. Nevertheless, both archers were not so simple. The bard enhanced his shots with Fire, igniting the monsters upon impact. Unfortunately, this was more effective against forest beings than against swamp creatures, which quickly secreted a thick, dark slime on their bark-skin to extinguish the flame from the arrows. It only slightly delayed the deikans. To deal with such monsters using fire required immense effort, as their bodies were literally soaked in swamp muck, which had to evaporate before their wooden core could ignite. And there was a lot of muck in them! Here, fiery arrows were of little help; something with a longer effect, like a Stream of Flame or similar spells, was needed, but the bard apparently did not possess such abilities.
As for the hunter, his skill set was much better suited for combating swamp creatures. Each of his arrows, shot from a long bow resembling a Welsh one, was enhanced with the "Split" spell from the Earth magic arsenal. As the name suggests, upon hitting a monster, the arrows literally split their bodies as if struck by a good axe, and when hitting the "legs," tore them off with the "flesh." However, to kill even such a small creature with a single "Split," one needed to be of Steel rank, while the hunter was only of Bronze. As a result, his shots maimed and significantly slowed down the monsters but did not kill them outright. Nevertheless, the hunter had already taken down two deikans, probably by hitting the same spot twice in a row, causing their main log to split into uneven parts. But that was the extent of the defenders' success.
A dozen deikans, each comparable in strength to a Bronze rank fighter, had attacked the small group of peasants. Without my help, it would all be over quickly. As soon as the archers' quivers were empty, the peasants would be trampled, doused in poisonous muck, and their bones ground by the wooden maws. The "past me" might have hesitated for a while, pondering whether to help or to flee while the monsters were busy. But I am not "him," and these small deikans posed no real threat to me, a Wootz fighter. So, after assessing the situation on the winding trail, I dropped my backpack to the ground, removed the cover from the tip of my spear, and plunged into the thick of the fight.
My first strike showed that things wouldn't be as easy as I had thought. Instead of slicing the deikan in two, the sword-like blade of Striking Whisper chopped off a few branches and got stuck in the wet wood, causing little harm to the creature. After this first strike, I had to resort to "Bull's Strength" to quickly pull the stuck tip out.
The creatures, as dumb as they were, reacted to the new threat even faster than the humans. While I struggled to finish off the first one, the monsters quickly formed a barrier of five creatures, effectively cutting me off from the wagons. I had no doubt that I would eventually kill all the deikans. It wouldn't be as quick or easy as I would have liked, but the outcome of our fight was predetermined. However, there was an important nuance: if it took me as long to deal with each monster as it did with the first, by the time I broke through their line, it would be too late for the peasant caravan. Without further ado, I twirled my spear around me, and my lips silently whispered:
"Dance."
My movements instantly accelerated, and the solution to incapacitating the deikans came immediately. True, a spear is far from the best weapon against monsters essentially made of wood, but Striking Whisper had a blade-like tip, albeit short. It wasn't an axe or a hatchet capable of chopping a log in one strike, but I didn't need that. To save the people, I didn't have to kill the creatures right there and then; it was enough to disable their mobility, and finishing them off could come later.
In an instant, the nearest creature to me lost four of its branches, which it used as legs, with just one wide swing of the spear followed by a reverse circular motion. However, instead of falling to the ground, the monster spun in mid-air and stood on what was previously its upper branches. It seemed to smirk wickedly at me. How could I forget that for deikans, the concept of 'top' and 'bottom' is irrelevant? But that's the beauty of the Dance - you don't think, you act! Before the creature's maw could snap shut, a new sweeping motion of Striking Whisper deprived it of the remnants of its liana-like legs, causing it to fall to the dusty trail like a regular log. Its angry snapping was of little concern to me now. It could only harm me if I carelessly put myself within its jaws, which I certainly had no intention of doing.
The second monster soon followed the first, its "legs" severed more confidently, right at the base. Then, using Bull's Strength, I kicked both the first and second creatures into a deep ditch. The third and fourth joined them in less than ten seconds.
Yes, the monsters tried to reach me, to surround me. They attempted to knock me down with their long branches but were too slow for me. After all, a Wootz warrior under Acceleration, especially with an active Dance, is not an easy target for such creatures, even in numbers exceeding a dozen.
Meanwhile, things were getting worse at the carts. The hunter ran out of arrows, and the monsters got dangerously close, forcing the peasants into combat. Had it not been for the bard, who quickly understood the situation and threw his bow and quiver to the hunter, allowing him to resume shooting, there would have been casualties. The hunter promptly grasped the bard's intent, whose fire magic was ineffective against deikans. Grabbing the unfamiliar bow, he began shooting at the approaching creatures with a speed that would make a machine gun envious. He missed the first two times – the new weapon differed from his own. But the third arrow, enhanced with "Split," knocked the nearest deikan down, saving one of the peasants from being finished off.
Da'Nnan's swamp creatures! Why did they have to emerge from their marshes? Weren't they content in their muck? As far as I remember, such small monsters usually don't leave their territory. Why did they have to emerge just now as a peasant caravan passed by?!
This cursing ran through my mind as a peculiar background, not hindering my dance with the spear. The last two creatures that tried to block me realized something was going very wrong and tried to retreat to the main group. But they couldn't execute their plan and, deprived of their branches, were kicked by me into the pile already forming in the roadside ditch.
Breaking through the monster line took less than half a minute, but in that time, two more peasants were wounded and had to crawl under the wagon for safety. Also, the bard's arrows ran out, and the hunter had to switch to an axe, which he apparently wasn't as proficient with as the bow. My intervention was timely. The peasants' defense was about to falter, but Striking Whisper in my hands prevented that. I used every skill at my disposal. Discharges flew in all directions, and Kisses of Seguna slowed the creatures. My spear's blade glowed, imbued with Light. And the monsters, now devoid of their branch-like limbs, no longer went into the ditch with their kin but exploded into chips at the touch of my hand, marked with the Rune of Destruction formed by Illusion magic. Less than a minute had passed since I joined the fight, and it was about to end. It was about to...
"Behind!!!"
The bard's frantic shout, who was somehow pulling out his lute instead of fighting, made me whirl around. Leaving the hunter and the three still able-bodied peasants to deal with the last two deikans, I lunged towards the forest. From it, completely silently, without even disturbing my Perception Aura, emerged two new creatures. Also deikans, but these were much larger. The main log of each was at least four meters long and as thick as an adult man's girth. And their "limbs" resembled not thin lianas but mighty knotty oak branches.
These were indeed more serious opponents, and each could make me sweat or even kill me if they attacked jointly. Even me, even in the Dance. Because each of them was roughly equal in strength and capabilities to a Wootz warrior.
But what was worse wasn't them; it was the noise coming from the forest. A rumble, like someone had pushed a huge boulder off a mountain, and it was rolling down, sweeping everything in its path. Unfortunately, thanks to the "memory of the future," I knew all too well what could make such a sound. Right now, I should have really hightailed it out of here. And probably, I would have done so, even despite my Affinity with Light, which demanded protecting the people. I would have run away because my life is still more important... But to my misfortune, I forgot to exit the Dance, and it pulled me forward, straight towards not only the two new creatures but also the monster that would soon appear here.
The first strike showed I was right to be wary. Instead of being severed at the root, the large deikan's "limb" withstood the impact and nearly captured my spear. I spun like a snake on a hot pan, dancing so intensely that dust rose and my feet tore clumps of earth with sharp accelerations. Eventually, in about ten minutes, I would have overcome the two large deikans. But I didn't have those ten minutes. What was breaking through the forest would be here soon, and then no Dance, no skills, and no knowledge of the future would help me survive.
Temporarily suspending the Dance, I started looking for a way out but was late. Caught up in the heat of battle, following the movements of the Dance, I found myself sandwiched between the two large monsters. Each creature was already damaged by me, but at most, I had chopped off a limb, inflicting no severe wounds on either. A thick branch, like a striking moray, tried to trip me but suddenly exploded at the base and fell limp along the monster's body. The hunter had come to my aid. Following his short commands, the peasants, having finished off the last two smaller creatures, began to gather arrows and throw them to the archer. He caught them in mid-air and, stringing them on the bow, sent them flying, now empowered with "Split."
This help was not very significant, but it did distract one of the large creatures, allowing me a couple of calm breaths. With the Dance off, my movements slowed, making my strikes significantly weaker. Yet, throughout the battle, I hadn't received a single wound, and even my new cotta remained unscathed. Given unlimited time, especially with support, I would have eventually defeated the two big deikans. But the problem wasn't them, but what was relentlessly approaching from the forest, judging by the rumble, already very close.
Thanks to the resumed shooting, I had an opening to escape. I understood that if I ran away, there would be no chance for the others to survive. But I also knew that staying wouldn't change the situation. There would just be one more corpse on this trail. There's a gap in the attacking branches, one quick dash, and I'm free from the trap. Then, maximum acceleration, and I'm gone without a trace. And the people - the peasants, the hunter, and the bard - are doomed anyway. If I stay, I'll die. One dash and I'm saved. One damned dash!
But instead, my lips whisper:
"Dance!"
I realize I've acted foolishly, that now I will die. This is clear to me. But it's my choice. And even if I perish, even if this world burns, I won't let myself become the heartless scum and animal I became in the Last Cycle. I understand it's petty and wrong, that my End justifies the means. But on this trail today, only one will die...
And at that moment, as if confirming my thoughts of impending death, a true giant emerged from the forest, crushing young trees under its weight. This, too, was a deikan, but compared to the others, it was like an assault tank to scooters. Twenty meters long, with branches as thick as an average birch tree and a body that three people holding hands could not encompass. Each of its maws could fit a small car, and its teeth were petrified pike fin spikes as thick as my hand. A worthy opponent for someone on the Legendary Ranks of the Spiral. The creature didn't just crawl out; it rolled out, leaving a trail of uprooted trees behind it. Upon reaching the path, it rose on its limbs, towering over us like a quarry dump truck.
"Stand up, heroes, the final battle is here..." echoed symbolically above the path.
The bard tuned his lute and began to sing. I hate bards – better he had taken a sword in his hands! I knew he couldn't help me with that, but singing ballads before death seemed even stranger. However, he chose a fitting song dedicated to the last war with the Sidhe, when an army of trees animated by their magic marched on a human city. Not taking my eyes off the new monster, I nevertheless saw the nearest creature's attack, evaded it with a roll, and struck back. This time, the blade of the Striking Whisper didn't slide harmlessly off the weathered wood but cleanly sliced off the limb of the nearest deikan. I felt my spear vibrate in tune with the melody resonating over the forest:
"Chop the branches, heroes..."
The bard wasn't just singing; his music and voice were filled with magic, empowering all allies who could hear him. It wasn't a significant help, but thanks to this song, my spear's blade stopped sliding off the monsters' bark and began to chop their wooden flesh like ordinary bodies. All my attention was focused on the giant while my body continued to act. The Striking Whisper, enhanced by the bard's song, tore through the wood of the nearest deikans, inflicting terrible wounds and chopping off branches.
But that no longer mattered. What was more important was my realization of the mistake I had made in not fleeing. Now, facing the swamp giant, I clearly understood how foolish and laughable my thoughts and decision to stay had been. My life, my knowledge of the future, was far more important than the lives of this handful of people. Infinitely more important. None of them knew about the future Invasion and, even in theory, couldn't prevent it. What a fool I was! A complete idiot! I let my emotions take over where I should have kept a cool head and survived, even at the cost of others' lives. I should have acted like Scully did with me, not play the hero! I should have! But I did the opposite. I stayed instead of fleeing. And now it's too late.
Meanwhile, the giant doesn't attack; it simply stands there as if savoring the moment and anticipation. I can feel its bloodlust emanating from it, a thirst it will soon quench. There's no escape; the length of its limbs covers the entire path. At any moment, the monster can reach each one of us on the forest trail, including me. But it hesitates, knowing we have nowhere to run. The second of the large deikans collapses at my feet, a limbless log, with the first I had dealt with seconds earlier.
"Accept death with dignity…"
The bard transitions to the last verse of his song. The giant, almost mockingly, sways slowly in time with the music, rustling its branches. It seems to be letting the bard finish his song. It's so absurd, yet so symbolic, that I cast aside my last doubts.
"Accept death with dignity…"
I have no choice but to follow the words of the song. The Striking Whisper is sent flying high, and I loosen the knots on my chest.
"And one cannot escape it…[1]" My lips whisper.
The spear is still in the air when my hands snatch the case from my back. I am going to perish today, but this creature will die first. How foolish. How simple. How absurd. But it was my decisions, my choice, however mistaken and impulsive, that led me here, leaving no other option but to Fuse with Boundless Pride.
"I am your end!" I shout, trying to drown out the despair engulfing me.
But... before I manage to pull out the sword, a heavy branch, which I evidently missed and didn't cut off from the wounded deikan, strikes right at the case, wrenching it from my hands. The artifact blade remains unsheathed. Instead, I stand unarmed on the path like a complete fool, watching as the case with the magic sword inside, spinning wildly, flies towards the giant. Hearing my cry, the immense monster turns its gigantic body towards me. Effortlessly, it deflects my thrown spear, swatting it away as if it were an annoying fly. Two massive, thick branches quickly catch the case in the air, crushing it, and despite the runes inscribed on it, it crumbles and scatters into splinters.
"Des."
The body of the monster that disarmed me shudders in death throes as my palm descends on its bark, but this revenge comes too late.
As if hypnotized, I watch as the swamp giant, swaying in time with the bard's melody, destroys the case. Everyone, except the bard, who plays with his eyes closed in fear, can't take their eyes off the swamp creature. Someone starts praying, someone crying, and the hunter, realizing that his arrows won't harm the monster, just sits on the sacks, resignedly dropping his head into his hands. Amidst this human despair and the sad melody, my laughter sounds completely alien and inappropriate. It's a laughter of relief and fading fear.
Meanwhile, the monster has wholly crushed the case into splinters, and now, in its branches, it holds a steel strip that looks utterly blunt. Indeed, sometimes two fools meet in one place, and the foolishness of one is more than compensated by the incredible stupidity of the other. That's exactly what happened here. I acted incredibly foolishly by staying and engaging in battle, but this oversized deikan turned out to be far stupider…
The steel gleams in the sunlight, and the branches holding the artifact sword fall off, sliced as if by a razor. The metal strip, now unsupported, drops to the ground, twirling like a propeller, cutting off a few more branches from the monster on its way down. A deafening roar-scratch echoes over the path. Confused, the monster strikes the lying steel with three branches simultaneously. At that moment, the blade becomes dull again, causing no harm to the limbs. Boundless Pride allows the monster to pick it up from the ground and becomes sharp again only when the creature brings it to its mouth. The monster clenches its petrified teeth, and immediately, as if mocking, Boundless Pride sharpens its blade again. The monster's lower jaw, probably weighing at least a hundred kilos, is instantly sliced off and falls to the path with a thunderous crash. The sword, now unsupported again, falls due to gravity, slicing off a couple more limbs on its way down, and this time plunges into the ground, standing upright like a pole.
Enraged beyond control, the swamp giant struck the thin blade with all its might. According to the laws of physics, the sword should have been yanked out of the ground and flung a hundred meters away. But Boundless Pride seemed to have other plans and stayed firmly in place as if held not by loose soil but by a granite monolith. The monster's blows didn't even make the artifact sword budge; only wooden splinters flew in all directions.
Then - it seemed almost deliberately - Boundless Pride positioned itself to be struck on the flat of its blade, propelling it into the air again. The steel glinted and plunged straight into the monster's belly, slicing off another of its legs along the way. Due to its size, the giant wasn't as agile as its smaller kin and, lacking support, couldn't twist in mid-air. It fell, its entire body slamming down onto the two-meter strip of artifact steel.
I thought I heard the satisfied laughter of Boundless Pride as the creature tumbled down the path. With each roll, the monster's body sliced itself into spiral chunks against the sharp blade protruding from its side. Within a minute, it was all over, and instead of the terrifying deikan, only wooden rounds and branch stubs remained on the path.
Wrapping my hand with the cotta, I lifted Boundless Pride from the ground and surveyed the miraculously surviving people with a heavy gaze. I kicked a nearby branch and, removing my coat, wrapped the magical sword in it, then declared:
"You saw nothing!"
The silence of Boundless Pride felt oddly serene and joyful, but I chose to ignore it.
[1] TLN: it's the second part of a saying, "One can't die twice, but can't escape one death."