Borrowed spells meant borrowing power from beings of another world, and the beings of another world—some of their appearances fell within the range of ordinary human understanding, and many did not.
For example, the being called Del Gretcher, whose power Esther had once borrowed, was a four-legged beast that "strolled across glaciers." A beast-type, an existent being with a real body. If you set aside its size, it wasn't hard to imagine its overall form.
The Drmuller Esther favored was the opposite. Its substance was formless wind—so what is the substance of wind? What shape does it have? How are you supposed to describe what it looks like? Who could know? Since no one could speak of a fixed form, it was a formless being.
Among them, the being called Guhinna was the name of a tree made of lightning. And even in the other world where plants also possessed selves, it was an exceptionally special individual. Of course, it was special, so it contracted with a mage to lend power and receive mana as payment.
Since it shaped all its branches, trunk, roots, leaves—its entire body—out of lightning, a mere gesture became a bolt from the sky.
A being that stood on the boundary between the fixed and the formless had enough power to display a miracle of scattering lightning into reality.
"Guhinna's branching trunk."
The realized spell flew in and lodged itself from beyond human cognition. In a clear sky, a single white trunk drew a zigzag line, then advanced toward where the mage wanted it to go.
In terms of timing, Ragna had been just about to cut his opponent's throat.
The owner of the black skin raised the hexagonal iron mace in his left hand straight up to block half his body, and at the same time was lifting his right foot.
From the black-skinned knight's point of view, you would have to say he was just about to break Ragna's neck.
If they'd fought it through to the end, what would have happened? If they'd poured out every scrap of skill they had, what would the result have been?
Ragna might have won and cut the man's neck, or, conversely, the black-skinned knight's aim might have landed and Ragna's neck bone might have snapped—but that result would now never be known. Because lightning came down and roasted Ragna.
No—right before it roasted him, with a sound that tore the air, something flew in and collided, bending the lightning's direction. The bolt struck the ground and a thunderous roar exploded.
KWA-RUNG!
Part of the falling lightning split, cleaving between the two who were fighting. Both Ragna and the black-skinned knight shoved off the ground with their feet and widened the distance. Between them, space opened—far enough that even stretching out a sword wouldn't reach.
All of this happened in the span of a single blink. It was outside the bounds of human cognition, but knights were those who perceived instants beyond the limit. Those who swung blades in a soundless, silent space. The moment they recognized the existence of lightning, both reacted.
More precisely, Ragna tried to cut the opponent's throat with his sword and endure the lightning with his body, while the black-skinned knight tried to pull back and evade.
Would their opposite actions become the standard that decided victory or defeat right now? It wouldn't. But it was a convenient element for mocking the other.
"I won."
Ragna said it. He hadn't fled in the end, and the other had tried to retreat. So he had won. His thinking was simple and stubborn.
"You lost."
He said it again. Once more, filled with certainty.
Before the black-skinned knight could answer, another voice cut in.
"You crazy bastard. Your guide and vice-captain showed up."
The guy who'd twisted the lightning aside with a sling bullet. Of course it was Rem.
"Crazy bastards."
Only then did the black-skinned knight add a word. Even with enemies on both sides, he showed no fear. He only showed the will to fight the two of them.
"Ah, you said you were bolting."
In that situation, a beastkin with white hair fluttering also joined. When she came in and planted a foot on the ground, ggggrrk— a furrow formed.
A sudden change of direction, then a high-speed charge again, then a sudden stop.
It was a chain of movements that would be difficult even to attempt unless you had a beastkin's athletic ability. She had just shaken off the two knights who'd been chasing her for a while.
Rem and Dunbakel met the enemy, split hands appropriately, then pulled their bodies out. If they wanted to kill, they could have, but to do it they'd have had to spend time or strain themselves, and they didn't feel the need. Besides, it wasn't only those two.
Even after excluding those two, a few more were already getting ready to rush in.
That was the momentum of the opposing army. Rem knew by instinct, and Dunbakel had already sensed it by smell.
Well, adding a few pieces of chaff like that wasn't going to get them killed here.
Did they need to face a crisis in a situation where it was obvious they'd be surrounded if they just stood there? Especially when the way they fought showed they were the kind who made their strength system and cohesion?
It was unnecessary waste of fighting power. Rem didn't need to guard the rear the way Jaxon did. Lawford had done too well, so there was no burden. So all he had to do was dust off his hands and fall back.
In the end, his judgment was a withdrawal meant to redraw the battlefield's shape.
"Any reason to fight in an unfavorable situation?"
That was Rem's opinion. He passed that intent to Dunbakel and made her take the bait, and thanks to the short time that bought, he prevented Ragna's hair from burning off and making him bald.
Even if he hadn't blocked it, Rem knew the directionless bastard wasn't the type to die to a single bolt. Just now, the directionless bastard proved it.
"Guhinna!"
From far away, the mage's shout burst out. At the same time, from the sky above, a white trunk carrying the shape of tree branches fell over Ragna's head.
The tip of Sunrise, which had been pointed forward, struck the thunderbolt falling from above his head.
KWA-RUNG!
A blast rang out. The atmosphere trembled as the aftershock of lightning scattered around. Ragna's blond hair spiked up in all directions.
He'd struck lightning with Sunrise and knocked it aside. A stunt among stunts. He had, in effect, caught the lightning trunk summoned by a spell on the face of his blade and let it flow off.
"Let's go, bastard. The captain's calling."
Rem wasn't a fairy. If it was needed, he lied as much as he pleased. He didn't hesitate to sell Enkrid's name. Ragna moved his steps without taking his eyes off the black-skinned knight.
"If I see you next time, you die."
The other said. Ragna opened his mouth too. The answer came out without him even breathing.
"I don't talk to corpses."
It was short, but thick with meaning. If speaking was a matter of expressing your will and delivering your intent, then their words were the same. A declaration of intent to kill.
Only, one side said "I'll kill you" directly, while the other spoke as if the opponent's life had already been counted dead. The meaning was the same, but the subtle difference scratched at one side's disposition.
"Good. Well done."
Rem praised him.
"Snff, snff. That guy's already a corpse? Then what, is he like a death knight or something? Smells kind of nasty too."
Beside them, Dunbakel said that after whipping her head around and checking behind.
"Truly, they're perfectly suited to the nickname 'madmen.'"
The opposing knight didn't flare up. He didn't go blind with rage and rush in.
Even while saying that, all three had calm, steady eyes. If he charged, what would happen?
He'd have to block the three of their attacks in an instant. He'd probably try to decide it in one blow at a speed the mage couldn't perceive. There was nothing to gain from agitation. The Rihinstetten knight steadied his mind. Instead, he set the hexagonal club diagonally in front of his body. Even if the three of them rushed him, enduring was entirely possible.
He covered his body with his weapon. This time, he'd expressed his will with action.
"They're coming."
Dunbakel said it. There was no time to drag it out. If they stayed still, they'd be surrounded. Rem knew the difference between foolhardiness and courage, and he had enough restraint not to do something stupid.
"Move!"
Rem said and ran. Ragna and Dunbakel followed behind.
The High Pontiff hadn't ordered them to chase those three, so they returned to their original places at leisure.
"Ptuh."
The remaining knight spat on the ground.
He hadn't fallen for the enemy's intent, but it couldn't be helped that it was unpleasant. He spat and dusted off his hands. An effort to shake off the displeasure.
In any case, the fight was only beginning. The opponent had only stopped the Yellow Earth Legion once, which had been a disposable piece anyway.
"Are you all right?"
From behind him, the mage approached and asked.
"I'm fine."
When people imagine a mage's appearance, they often picture a trailing gray robe and a crooked wooden staff.
The mage who appeared now clearly fell outside that range of imagination. A bluish tint lingered in his hair, and he was a young man whose looks made the word handsome come out on their own.
He wore black leather armor that clung tight to his body, and he held no staff.
"Just from the way you can knock aside lightning, you're no ordinary man."
No one knew his true age, but it was certain it wasn't low. The High Pontiff was a man with many secrets.
Even the knight order couldn't know everything. This mage was one of those people. One day he joined out of nowhere and played the role of court mage.
And the previous court mage had not been seen since the day this one appeared.
"It's something I could do too, so not really."
He wasn't saying it with the intent to dismiss the mage. If you didn't face reality, your neck would fly off under a knight's blade. So it was closer to advice.
Stopping a knight with ordinary spells was close to impossible. And if the one you were trying to stop was a madman who had been about to endure a summoned lightning bolt with his body, it would be even harder.
"Ah, I know. Next time, I'll respond more violently."
The mage said it. The knight looked into his eyes. They looked like a puppeteer had crudely imitated human eyes and shoved them into the sockets.
It seemed like something that couldn't feel emotion at all had settled in those eyes.
"You'll do as you will."
The knight spoke and memorized the face of the one who'd left. If they met again, he had to kill him.
'Madman Ragna.'
He repeated the opponent's name, then this time snapped out loud.
"This bastard, seriously."
Thinking about it, he had asked for the opponent's name, but that bastard hadn't even asked for his. Wasn't that exactly the attitude you took toward someone about to die?
"I will kill you."
He muttered it like making a vow, filled with killing intent. Not quite a knight's oath, but he steeled his resolve. If he met that bastard again next time, Will would boil up more than usual.
***
"Pegasus?"
Krais looked at Odd-Eye and was startled, then immediately his eyes glittered. In his head, he could already see the sight of people in the salon's inner courtyard cheering at the winged horse.
The battle was over. Esther, with an exhausted face, kept repeating that he was late and threw herself into Enkrid's arms.
Some of the soldiers whistled, but there wasn't anyone who wagged their tongue beyond that. What Black Flower Esther had done deserved respect.
"What color is the flower that blooms on the battlefield?"
"Black flower!"
They'd even made a chant on their own. Enkrid carried Esther to a tent where she could rest, and the moment things settled, he asked Krais.
"News from the southern front?"
How many days had he been away? He had shortened time by ignoring most terrain and running, but he had spent at least a few days on this side. It was purely instinct, but something would have happened at the front too.
"I don't know."
Light returned to Krais's eyes, which had gone hazy in his imagination. And as he answered, he thought of what to say as well. He hadn't received any dispatch, but his brain that grasped situations was, as always, exceptional.
"If what the two detachments were aiming for was to shake Naurillia territory, then the main force will already have reached the southern front. If you estimate the time the detachments came, it's obvious."
It was a reasonable statement. This tactic, the southern movement, assumed they struck at the same time. That was the effective tactic. He didn't know how they communicated, but they measured time and adjusted marching speed so they moved with only a one- or two-day difference. Then the main force would have done the same.
"You're going right away?"
If it was reading the room, it was Krais.
"Yeah."
Enkrid couldn't even rest half a day. He didn't have time to shut his eyes. He only got ready and moved. Krais, Jaxon, and Esther saw him off.
"I want to follow, but my body isn't normal either."
That was Jaxon. His pale complexion didn't look much different from usual, but he had stalled time alone against five knights. He'd done it without even getting a chance to show his specialty.
He'd done something crazy as casually as breathing, same as Esther.
Thanks to those two, Border Guard had no dead. The enemy three thousand scattered. No matter how terrifying the High Pontiff was, with five knights dead, there wasn't anyone who'd fight to the end.
Instead, they would scatter into small groups and act like bandits. In time, that would become a headache too, but that wasn't something to worry about right now.
"There's no room to carry anyone."
Enkrid answered. Then the companion who would leave with him came to his side. A companion whose physical traits—four legs and wings—stood out clearly.
Odd-Eye was tired too, but he was a divine beast that respected his friend's will.
Heeheeing.
At the sound of permission, Enkrid lifted his body onto Odd-Eye. Watching that, Esther came up and reached out a hand.
"Hold out your hand."
Her tone, as it had been from the beginning, was stiff and command-like, but he knew the meaning carried inside it wasn't.
"I won't say thank you for guarding it in my place. Now that place will be your city too."
Enkrid said. Instead of answering, Esther gripped his hand and muttered something. A language that was hard for anyone to understand. Enkrid only understood the last part.
"You'll be sleepy. Even so, when you wake, your body will be much better than before."
Enkrid stared into Esther's eyes. If he said he felt warmth in those blue eyes, would she curse him again?
"You have the right to look at me properly."
Esther muttered that. Enkrid felt like the cheeks of that panther and mage had turned red, an illusion.
Krais had already packed food and other things. Thanks to him, there was no wasted time. The moment he saw Odd-Eye and Enkrid, he'd already finished various preparations. In some ways, he was an impressive bastard.
He'd wrapped long, thin-cut seasoned jerky tightly in leather so it was easy to pull out and eat, and he'd packed a water flask and more.
"Since it's a shame you don't have a saddle, take this at least."
He even had a bag modified to fasten across the chest.
Given he'd prepared all this in less than half a day, even clicking your tongue wouldn't be enough.
"Fine. I'm going."
Odd-Eye, carrying Enkrid, ran and flew again. It was time to return to the battlefield again.