He was a handsome man who walked with footsteps as light as the wind.
His blue hair was tied back, and his slender, well-toned body, reminiscent of a beast with supple muscles, was clad in a yellow shirt and black pants. Carrying a fishing pole slung over his right shoulder, he went on his way, humming a tune.
"...Huh? What's this?"
Suddenly, his humming stopped. The man frowned in displeasure and looked up at the sky. The color of the sky had turned pale, and the presence of people and animals had vanished.
"...A barrier, huh."
The man perceived that his surroundings had been severed from reality and drawn into a space with a different phase. He scanned the area with a sharp gaze.
"...Doesn't seem like I'm the target here."
He surmised that he had likely just been caught up in whatever was happening.
He could sense killing intent, but it wasn't directed at him; it was swirling far off in the distance where his gaze fell. That seemed to be the epicenter of the conflict.
"Well now, what to do..."
Holding the fishing pole in one hand, the man made a show of pondering, stroking his chin. He didn't dislike fighting, but he had no obligation to stick his neck into matters that didn't concern him.
Some of the parties involved would probably die, but since they weren't acquaintances, he wouldn't even consider it abandoning them.
If they came at him, that would be a reason to use his spear, but there should be no problem just waiting it out on the sidelines until it was over... and yet.
"Quite a mismatched set of presences. Feels like there are many attackers and few defenders... but something's bugging the hell out of me."
The man didn't inherently mind an overwhelming force against a weaker one. While he wasn't too fond of it, that was a matter of temperament; in battle or hunting, numbers were a necessary force, a fundamental rule.
That was true for both humans and beasts. Of course, there were rare cases where a small force defeated a large army, so it wasn't absolute, but such exceptions were rare and not worth considering now.
So, what was bothering the man? It was the presence he could feel.
Leaving aside the fact that there were two weak human presences and several stronger ones, both major and minor, gathered together, what concerned him was the powerful aura he sensed emanating from one of those weak presences.
"In this case, the ones being attacked are the strong ones, and the attackers are the weak. But for that, they're stuck in a stalemate... So, they poked the bush and a fucking snake came out, huh?"
Thinking their opponent weaker and underestimating them, relying on their numerical advantage to toy and torment them, only to meet an unexpected counterattack.
From the man's perspective, it was the height of stupidity, something to scoff at. Thinking your opponent was a lizard when it was actually a dragon... that also happened sometimes.
However, the luck for the attacking side was that the awakened power of their victim wasn't yet under its user's full control. It was a binary choice: either the victim would grow accustomed to the power and turn the tables, or the attackers would kill them before they could.
And the misfortune for the assailants was...
"Right then, why don't I go take a little look?"
...the fact that they had caught this man's interest. No, perhaps their real misfortune was having drawn this man into their barrier in the first place.
Although the distance was considerable, the man was enveloped in light as if by some trick, instantly changing into a form-fitting blue combat outfit.
Crouching low, he dashed forth with a supple, beast-like agility, weaving through the forest trees as he ran, arriving at the scene of the conflict in an instant.
There, several men with bat-like black wings spread were surrounding a child who, though trembling, stood with arms outstretched, shielding a woman.
"Who are you?!"
A man who seemed to be the leader of the assailants shouted at the blue-clad man. It seemed they had noticed him, as he hadn't bothered to hide his aura, but for the blue-clad man, it was irrelevant.
"Tch... Shameful, a bunch of grown men ganging up on a woman and a kid."
The blue-clad man spat these words, dismissing the kind of scum who would collectively corner a child who hadn't even reached adulthood and a weak woman as not even fit to be called men. To him, it was utterly disgusting.
Simultaneously, or perhaps precisely because of that, he felt a favorable impression towards the child at the center.
He must be terrified, yet he trembled, his eyes welling up with tears he refused to shed, glaring resolutely at the men, spreading his arms as wide as he could to protect the woman.
Anyone who saw this and felt nothing had no right to call themselves a man, the blue-clad man thought.
Paying no mind to the petty anger of the men, enraged at being insulted by a sudden outsider—and a human at that—the blue-clad man leaped lightly, vaulting over the group to land soundlessly before the boy.
Ignoring the multitude of swords suddenly thrust towards him, he grinned and spoke.
"Hey, you did well, kid. You're still small, but that's impressive. The one behind you, she someone important to you?"
"M-My mom...!"
The boy said, trembling but glaring defiantly. The blue-clad man nodded with a hearty smile.
"Is that so. You showed some real spine. I like you, kid. You'd probably manage on your own, but let me handle this. I'll take on your fight. You focus on protecting your mom."
Speaking in a way that respected the boy's pride, the blue-clad man turned his back to face the assailants.
Seeing that back, the boy felt, strangely, sure that everything would be alright now, a wave of relief threatening to wash over him. But remembering the task entrusted to him, he put strength back into his eyes and body, standing firm like a guardian deity to protect his mother.
Sensing this through the boy's presence, the blue-clad man allowed a smile to touch his lips.
Then, as if pulling it straight from the void, a single long spear appeared in his hand from nowhere.
"You bastard! A mere human dares to interfere with us!?"
"Yeah. This kid here's got more guts than any of you. Unfortunately for you, I fucking hate scum like you."
"Guh... You'll regret this! You'll die for nothing, for that whore and that half-breed bastard with no reason to exist!?"
As the boy twisted his expression in frustration at the leader's vile abuse, the blue-clad man frowned in displeasure and spat.
In response to their fighting spirit, any sense of observation or playfulness vanished from the blue-clad man's demeanor.
"Yeah, if you're all so eager to fight—then come at me with the resolve to die."
Retorting thus, the blue-clad man took a stance with his spear and stepped in.
In the next instant, the leader's chest was pierced by the spear, his heart skewered.
"Wha...t...?"
Those were the leader's last words. Wearing a stunned expression of incomprehension, the leader collapsed backward onto the ground.
Without a second glance or thought for the fallen leader, the blue-clad man pulled the spearhead free. He fixed the remaining group with a sharp gaze.
With each step he took, his form seemed to blur and vanish. A few moments later, whenever a death scream drew one's attention, another assailant would be found with a spear thrust through their chest, dead.
His movements were like something out of a bad joke. Deprived of their commander, the men unleashed magically conjured flames, wind, lightning, and ice, but they couldn't track the blue-clad man's speed.
Their attacks merely scorched the earth, tore the air, and froze the surroundings, showing no sign of hitting their target.
In contrast, with every swing of the blue-clad man's spear, an assailant had their heart or head pierced, or were struck by the long spear, their ribs and internal organs shattered to pulp as they died.
It wasn't a contest in the slightest; it had taken on the aspect of a one-sided slaughter.
"W-What the hell are you!? Why are you interfering... Gyaaah!?"
"C-Could these movements really be possible for a human!? Agyah!?"
"Th-This is... insane... I-Is it the power of that spear?!"
"Huh? Nah, this is just a spear carved from a magical beast's bone. It's far cry from the Crimson Spear I used in my life."
As his comrades were slain one after another, the last remaining man questioned the reality before him, asking the opponent whose location he couldn't even pinpoint. The answer came from behind him, sounding bored.
"Guh...!? The Crimson Spear... that beast-like agility and sharp spear technique... You bastard, don't tell me you're Ireland's 'Child of Light'!?"
"Well, I was called that once... Now I'm just its fucking remnant. But it seems more than enough to kill the likes of you."
"Guh... Don't fuck with me—Gah!?"
Trying to overwrite his terror with rage, the man attempted to unleash magic as he spun around. But faster than he could act, a thrust pierced his chest, skewering his heart. He vomited blood amidst excruciating pain.
"Wh-why... this... It was supposed to be a simple job... The half-breed brat awakens a Sacred Gear... gets in the way of a mere human... This wasn't... supposed to happen..."
"Well, that's how life is for you. Curse your shitty luck for running into me here."
Retorting thus, the blue-clad man yanked his spear free with a sweeping motion, kicking the man's corpse aside. In the blink of an eye, all the assailants were dead, not a single one remaining.
Standing at the center of a mountain of corpses and a river of blood, a scene of piled bodies, the blue-clad man inspected his spear from all angles, confirming it was undamaged. He then spun it casually and slung it over his right shoulder before turning to look at the boy.