My admittedly foolish help led to the survival of everyone in the caravan despite injuries to five peasants. Now, many eyes were fixed on me. Only the bard couldn't take his gaze off the bundle in my hands, which I didn't quite appreciate. Laying Boundless Pride on the ground, I straightened up and looked at the people huddled around the undamaged cart. I scanned each one who was still standing, then spread my arms and said sharply:
"What are you doing standing around? Who are you waiting for?" My questions clearly confused everyone, so I had to clarify. "Who's going to help the injured? Expecting divine intervention, are you?"
Having said that, I set an example for the others by approaching the last cart where the first injured man lay. Lifting it, I yanked him out onto the trail by his feet, acting so abruptly because I noticed his wound wasn't life-threatening. Bending over the wounded man, who was whimpering softly with his eyes closed and clutching his stomach, I growled demandingly at him:
"Move your hands!" But he just shook his head without opening his eyes and wailed louder.
The fairly young man, around twenty, apparently couldn't handle the panic and was even afraid to open his eyes to check his wound. But I could see through his fingers that the damage was superficial. Likely, he was hit by the acidic spit of a deikan, causing a chemical burn. I pushed the lad's hands away from his stomach, pinned his arms with my knee, and examined the injury. Yes, it was extensive, with his skin burned to the flesh by the deikan's poisonous sap, but nothing more. Very painful but certainly not life-threatening. I had a burn ointment in my belt pouch, which I applied liberally to the wound. Each touch made the young peasant scream louder and try to break free. The poor guy was having a simple panic attack.
"Open your eyes!" I ordered. But he just shook his head and clenched his eyelids even tighter. "There's nothing serious with you!" I barked. "Your guts aren't spilling out, so you're going to live. Yes, it hurts, but you're supposed to be a man, not some pampered city girl, right? Or am I mistaken, and you're a little girl, not a countryman used to hardships? Though it doesn't matter; I've met many girls braver than you!"
The last remark seemed to strike a chord in the village lad, and he finally opened his eyes.
"See? Just a simple burn. You could get these in a forge if you're not careful." When the young man saw his wound himself, his previously frantic eyes finally calmed down a bit. "Got any painkillers?" I asked.
In response, the lad glanced meaningfully at my open alchemical bag full of various potions.
"Don't get cheeky," I snapped, "am I Mother Teresa or a kind priest of Ishii to you? Don't you have your own potion?"
"It's in my belt pouch behind…" he said very quietly, a bit sheepishly. He didn't quite grasp my words but correctly understood the tone and message.
"So, you do have it, and your hands are still working."
"But…"
"What 'but'?" I scoffed a bit maliciously, standing up and looming over the injured man like a cliff. "You have hands, you have a mouth, so get it out and drink it yourself."
His main problem wasn't the wound but panic, so I was deliberately harsh with him, provoking him to act on his own. Because any conscious action is the counterweight to that panic.
"Do it yourself," I nodded, watching as he reached for the pouch behind him. "I've got other things to attend to."
And indeed, I had other matters to handle. In a few long strides, I reached the ditch where I had kicked the pile of still-alive lesser deikans and quickly finished off these creatures, which had already started to regrow their branches, with the Rune of Destruction. When I was done with this necessary task, the others finally came to their senses and began helping the injured. More precisely, not everyone was helping. The hunter just handed his potions to the eldest peasant and gathered arrows, warily glancing toward the forest.
After retrieving the bags, I also found Striking Whisper. To my great relief, the spear was undamaged; the shaft had withstood the impact of the swamp giant's branches. Then I unwrapped Boundless Pride and began wrapping it in shirts, putting on the cotta over my gambeson. Although everyone was busy, they kept casting interested glances at me, filled with a fair amount of apprehension, carefully observing my actions. The bard was particularly curious, which was quite understandable.
When I finished packing Boundless Pride in spare clothes and stood up, first aid had already been administered to those injured by the swamp monsters. The peasants huddled around one of the carts, whispering quietly. The hunter took up a good vantage point, not letting go of his bow. And only the bard, jumping off the cart, dared to approach me.
"I am Mired Lig from the minor guild Spring Song. How may I address you, esteemed traveler, who saved us all from the monsters?" he asked a bit grandiloquently, bowing respectfully yet quite elegantly.
Hiding my name made no sense, as the peasants, upon returning to the village, would immediately learn from Valena how I had introduced myself. So, I decided not to be cunning and answered directly.
"Raven from Seattle, a tunneller, following the path of Sundbad."
The bard's eyes sparkled the moment he heard my response. One didn't need to be a Mental mage to realize that a new song was forming in his mind. So much symbolism! I shouldn't have mentioned the path of Sundbad; now, it seemed, I couldn't easily get rid of him... But it was my own fault; no one else pulled the words from my mouth.
"When the gigantic deikan emerged from the forest, I thought my mortal life had come to an end!" With a gesture that seemed habitual to him, Mired Lig swung his lute from his back to his chest, and his fingers found the strings. "But I am alive, all thanks to you! Tell me, how did you defeat the monster? I will compose an incredible song about your amazing 'Flying Sword' technique! All of Ain will know of the new hero who defeated the Master of the Swamp at Wootz!"
What technique was he talking about? But as soon as this question surfaced in my mind, I understood that the way Pride had toyed with the swamp giant, slicing it literally into a serpentine, could indeed look like the application of some unusual technique from a bystander's perspective. But did I even need such fame? On one hand, it could bring many benefits, but on the other – a multitude of problems. Still undecided, I shrugged and, ignoring the bard's questions, stepped towards the wagons, leaving the singer standing with his mouth open.
"Hey!" I caught everyone's attention. "Does anyone need urgent help?"
"No, sir," the eldest of the peasants replied for all, rising to his feet and bowing deeply to the ground. The others followed his example, even those suffering from injuries. "You have already saved us from the swamp creatures, and we cannot ask for anything more. Please accept our gratitude. Also, we can..."
"I need nothing from you!" I cut him off, uninterested in the crumbs they could offer in thanks. "Well, almost nothing," I clarified and, planting my spear upright, continued. "I have only one request for all of you..." These words clearly alarmed the survivors, but I didn't prolong their suspense, "Do not tell anyone how the Master of the Swamp was defeated. I should not have used this weapon, as I am not its owner. I am merely a messenger carrying it to its true Master." Of course, I could have concocted a much more intricate lie, but my mind was preoccupied with other matters at the moment, so I spoke a half-truth. "If you are truly grateful to me for your salvation, then the best reward would be your silence. Because if it becomes known that I used this sword, I will face serious trouble."
My words were met with awkward silence as, clearly, no one expected such a request from me. The bard's fingers slipped down, causing the lute to emit a pitiful ripple of sound.
"Sir Raven!" Wide-eyed, Mired Lig jumped in front of me and theatrically clasped his hands. "Does this mean I can't now write a song about your feat?!"
Stepping forward, I towered over the bard, looking him straight in the eyes, and spoke:
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"Why can't you? Who's stopping you? You are a free man, and whether to heed someone's request or to ignore it is your choice alone." Rocking on my heels, I glanced around at everyone else. "Of course, I could kill you all right now to keep the use of the sword a secret…"
During my deliberate pause, a deathly silence hung over the path. Apparently, each of the survivors vividly imagined my words in full color. And each understood that they would be powerless to stop me, even as a group, if I indeed wanted to kill them all.
"But!" A broad smile appeared on my face. "Why would I have saved you then? So, you are free to do as you please. You may heed my request… or disregard it and blab about what you've seen on every corner. Just… Just remember, when you tell your stories, that every word you say can harm the one who saved you." My gaze grew heavier. "I am not a priest of Antares nor a preacher, but I believe there is Light in every person."
If the earthlings heard me now, they would surely cringe at the pathos spilling from my lips, but the locals stood and listened, mouths agape. Even the bard seemed to forget how to breathe.
"But I also believe that every person is free to make their own choice. So, act as you wish. You have heard my request, but the decision to honor it or not is yours alone." My gaze refocused on the bard. "If you, Mired Lig, feel that the song bursting from your soul demands to be heard, then you may compose it. But…" My finger pointed at the singer's chest. "When you sing it, remember that every verse of your song harms the one who saved you."
Having said this, I turned around, slung my backpack over my shoulder, picked up the bags and the bundle with Boundless Pride, then turned back and concluded my speech:
"Farewell, for Sundbad's path awaits me."
In complete silence, I walked down the path, and as I passed the hunter, I tossed him a bundle of treats:
"Regards from your auntie."
"Sir Raven!" The bard shouted after me, apparently intending to impose himself as a temporary traveling companion.
But since I had no need for such a company, I started off at the maximum speed my abilities allowed.
It wasn't that I was really concerned about the peasants telling others what happened on the forest trail. It's only in the digital age or in big cities that rumors spread like wildfire. But in these rather pastoral places, a typical tale might not reach neighboring villages for at least a month in most cases. And by the time it does get foreign ears, most stories would be so embellished with implausible details and exaggerations, as is usually the case, that only little children would believe them.
But the bard was a different matter. He seemed to be traveling around Ain, possibly in search of inspiration or subjects for his songs. If this singer is talented and able to compose a catchy melody and set it to lyrics dedicated to the recent battle, then a lot of people might hear it. On one hand, there's no big problem with that, but the stars might align in such a way that it could still cause me some trouble.
Boundless Pride is one of the lost artifacts, of which most people not only don't remember, but never even knew about. But I'm sure the Artifactors' Guild keeps a detailed description of this sword. And, considering how much that Guild is fixated on acquiring everything unique, this could lead to certain problems. After all, I don't own the Pride, so technically, this sword can be taken away from me.
Most likely, I'm being overly cautious, and even if Mired Lig composes a song about the battle against the Master of the Swamp, it won't harm me. It might even boost my reputation if it becomes popular and spreads throughout Ain. As for the Artifactors' Guild, it's almost always possible to negotiate amicably with them. I don't think my speech will make people keep their mouths shut. Yes, the appeal to conscience will work for a while... Until the first drunken party or other revelry. My faith in people is not so great as to hope for a different outcome. But, perhaps, because of these words, those who will tell this story will tactfully omit my name and detailed description, replacing it with, for example, "a traveler following the path of Sundbad" or something else.
Far more than the hypothetical troubles of the Artifactors' Guild learning about Boundless Pride, I was bothered by something else. Specifically, my bizarre behavior, particularly the decision to stay and fight, risking my life to save others. Yes, I am far from who I was in the Last Cycle, but even for the current me, such self-sacrifice is utterly uncharacteristic. And that's putting it mildly. Could it be that the scales have tipped the other way in this Cycle, and I am steadily transforming into an altruist? I introspected, examining my thoughts and feelings, and concluded that I am still far from that. I am still ready to sacrifice others if it serves the cause of saving the world. But then, why did I make such an unusual and uncharacteristic decision at that moment?
This question genuinely bothered me, as my survival today could be called a miraculous series of coincidences, not a consequence of my actions. If that large deikan had not retained a single intact branch, which knocked the case with Boundless Pride out of my hands, I would have taken the sword and performed a Fusion, ultimately killing both the Master of the Swamp and myself. Yes, the peasants, the hunter, and the bard would have been saved, but does that matter in the light of the impending Invasion?
After running at a speed that the bard, being Bronze, couldn't have caught up with me for more than half an hour, I slowed down, settling into a more familiar rhythm of movement.
Instead of fretfully thinking and proposing various theories as to why I acted so uncharacteristically, I began to recall all the details of the fight. From the very beginning to the moment the case with Boundless Pride was knocked out of my hands. This approach to analyzing the situation soon proved its worth. It wasn't long before I understood why I did what I did.
In essence, at that moment, I had no choice. In light of the circumstances, specifically the decisions and actions I had taken earlier in the fight, I simply couldn't flee the battlefield. And there are two significant reasons for this. First, I was in the Dance, that is, in combat meditation - something remotely reminiscent of a berserker's state. When using this skill, you give yourself over to the fight entirely, which is the main strength of this ability. But everything has a downside. It's also present here. It's quite difficult to leave the battle by simply running away while in an active Dance - you simply don't want to avoid the fight. Even this alone might have been enough to make me stay on the path, but I greatly intensified the influence of the Dance by infusing the spear with Light throughout the second half of the battle. That is, I continuously appealed to Affinity and passed Light through me. And to abandon other people to die when Light is passing through you, you have to be an utterly indifferent brute, with not a shred of sympathy for anyone in your soul.
This "post-mortem" analysis, on the one hand, provided some relief by explaining what had happened. But on the other, these thoughts clearly hinted that until I fully master the Dance, meaning reaching a filled five Talent Stars in Spear, I should use this skill as infrequently as possible. And with Light, as well as with Shadow, I should also be more cautious and not remain under the influence of either Power for too long. Ideally, I should alternate their use. Perhaps this approach will help avoid the constant effect of any Affinity on my soul. I really hope it helps because maintaining balance in my situation is essential. It will be equally bad if I turn into a complete egoist, preaching grey morality, following the path of Seguna. I've been through that in the Last Cycle and don't feel like repeating the experience. But turning into an altruist is no better. Today's case clearly showed that if that happens, my chances of simply surviving until the Invasion would be close to absolute zero.
Alternating the use of different Powers can help, but it's only a "patch." I need to strive for internal balance, as only this can eliminate the possibility of such "fluctuations." But achieving this inner balance is not easy. Many people spend their entire lives searching for it, spending years in self-knowledge meditations. This path, due to the lack of time, is unacceptable for me. But there's another option - replacing spiritual balance with mind control. And this path, especially considering that in the world of Ain there is mental magic, might be a real solution for me. This means that my decision to invest the bonus from the Achievement "Movement Against" into developing Mental was very far-sighted, and I should pay even more attention to training in this area of magic.
Such reflections gave me additional motivation because if there's anything I hate, it's when my personal choice is replaced by imposed circumstances. This, incidentally, was the first brick of hatred towards questers, who, using their tasks, deprived me of much of this freedom of choice. Yes, that hatred had to grow over a long time, but without this foundation, the explosion of vindictiveness that happened to me in the Last Cycle might not have occurred.
Aside from gaining a bit better understanding of myself, the battle on the forest trail brought a whole bunch of achievements. Most of them were insignificant for my current rank. After all, defeating minor deikans, equivalent to Bronze, was not a great feat for a Wootz warrior. But killing two larger monsters counted fully for me. For each, I received as much Core growth energy as if I had cleared a Wootz dungeon in a full group. Of course, in my situation, this wasn't a lot, but it was still a decent gain and might save me a few days until Elevation.
However, for killing the Master of the Swamp, I received nothing. Absolutely nothing. Which, in a way, was fair, as the artifact sword did all the "work" while I just stood and watched from the sidelines. Of course, it was disappointing to miss such a reward, but it couldn't have been otherwise. By the way, does what Boundless Pride did count as a violation of our agreement? The clause where the sword was forbidden to reveal its true power to the world? However, after some thought, I concluded that it didn't violate the agreement, as Boundless Pride, if it did reveal itself, did so only to one-tenth of its potential, which can hardly be called "a manifestation of the true power" of this weapon. And there was no point in arguing with Boundless Pride about this, as it indeed saved my life. Though, thanking the sword for this was also unnecessary, as it did not act out of a desire to save someone or do a good deed. Boundless Pride joined the fight because it missed battles. That is, the sword, in killing the Master of the Swamp, did so not for the benefit of someone else but purely to satisfy its thirst for battle. And it was not worth thanking it for that. Although... Saying thank you for saving my life might have been the right thing to do, but I didn't do it, as the sword could do without my "thank you." Even one-sided communication with it exhausted me and spoiled my mood, each time reminding me of who I was in the Last Cycle, and I can't say I liked that.