[157] The Second Encounter (6)
"Freeman, thanks."
"Hehe, it's nothing. Let's get out of this miserable place quick. Wherever we go, I can at least support one of you."
Marsha was taken aback by the unexpected words. Then she realized the time had come and spoke in a sad voice.
"Freeman, I'm sorry. I'm leaving alone. I'm not taking you with me."
"What? Why? What's a woman going to do out there by herself? The world's dangerous."
"I'll be fine. I feel like I can do anything now."
"No! I won't! I'm coming with you! I won't let you go alone!"
Marsha thought it over one last time. But however she turned it over in her head, she couldn't take him with her.
Freeman had a family. Even if his father was little better than the sort of foster father I had, he was still a true father by blood.
"Freeman, I don't love you."
Freeman's face flushed at Marsha's blunt words.
"W-what are you saying all of a sudden?"
"You're a really good friend. But I'll never see you as anything more than that. Following me would only make you miserable too. I might even marry another man."
Freeman felt as if his chest were being torn apart. Cruel. Truly cruel, Marsha.
How could she say that now? It might be their last moment.
He clenched his fists and ground his teeth.
If Marsha said so, then so it was. Hanging around her would only leave him wounded in the end.
"It doesn't matter. I'm coming with you anyway. I hate being called a loser by my drunkard father. This is my choice."
Marsha's anger flared. Freeman's maddening stubbornness was driving her crazy.
"You idiot! Why can't you understand? I told you I don't like you!"
"So what? If you don't want me to, then don't! I'll still like you! I don't care if you marry another man or have children! I just like you! You don't get to decide otherwise!"
Marsha screamed, exasperated.
"Oh, really? Fine. Then stare at me forever and die old and alone. Want the truth? You'd be a burden if you followed. How long do I have to take care of a coward who can't even kill an ant? It would only make my life harder!"
"I'm not a coward! I'll protect you!"
"By what means? What can you even do?"
"Arghhhh!"
Freeman let out a howl and snatched up a sharp stone from the ground, scraping at his eyebrow.
Marsha jumped and tried to stop him.
"What are you doing, you idiot!"
"Let go! I said let go!"
Freeman was reckless.
The rasp of skin tearing made Marsha's scalp prickle. She watched, stunned.
He rubbed the stone until his eyebrow came away, then tossed it aside. When he stood, his face was a mask of blood.
"How's that? Scary now, right? I was a coward because of my eyebrows. Now no one can touch me. So I won't be a burden to you."
"You… are you insane?"
Marsha was too shocked to speak. But Freeman was sincere.
The face left by shaving off his eyebrows looked terrifying, but beneath it was the saddest expression in the world.
"I'll get strong. I'll get strong by any means. So can you just let me stay with you? I promise I'll never ask you to like me. Just let me come with you, please?"
"You… ah, you idiot."
Marsha exhaled a long, helpless sigh. Part of her knew it was wrong, but even that thought got swept away in the breath.
"Marsha."
Freeman's eyes snapped open. The burns that had disfigured his face had already fully healed.
How long had passed? Maybe it was already too late. But he had to go. He'd promised. Until Marsha died, his life wasn't truly his own.
"I'm going now. Wait."
The energy he poured into pulling himself back from the brink of death was immense. His body felt heavy and his legs weak.
But Freeman kept walking without rest.
Toward Marsha.
Clay Marsha (1)
Amy bit down and ran along the mountain path. Her mental strength had recovered enough to think, but she still couldn't cast magic.
She couldn't slow. The fight wasn't over. Freeman had been dealt with, but another formidable foe—Falkoa—remained.
"Hoo! Just a little more!"
When the destination came into view, Amy pushed herself harder. Cresting the hill, the sight made her eyes go wide.
A battered Rian was holding Falkoa from behind.
But Amy's surprise was really at something else.
Tess was charging at full speed, driving her sabre into Falkoa.
Tess's gaze was more ferocious than Amy had ever seen. If this kept up, Rian would be impaled too. Still, the two of them—seemingly by some unspoken agreement—hesitated not a bit.
At last Tess's sabre pierced Falkoa. Rian's pupils dilated and his shoulder spasmed.
A moment later, blood spattered from Rian's mouth.
* * *
Twenty minutes before Amy arrived.
Falkoa's attacks were the height of flashiness. But that flashiness wasn't finesse; it was the brutal violence of a beast.
Rian couldn't think of techniques. Just enduring the shocks had already pushed his stamina to the limit.
Falkoa found an opening and sliced Rian's thigh.
"Tess!" someone shouted. Rian had held on better than expected, but his lower body was hit—half his strength gone.
Enraged at his friend's injury, Tess attacked. But Falkoa truly deserved the name battlefield fiend.
He concentrated most of his movement into offense, as if saying it didn't matter where he was wounded so long as he didn't die.
As a result, Tess's attack frequency dropped. The old saying that offense is the best defense proved true in an instant.
As the fight wore on, Rian and Tess accumulated more and more wounds. They avoided fatal strikes, but like clothes soaked in drizzle, after ten minutes their bodies were nearly ragged.
"Khahaha! Is that all? That was fun for a change."
Ignoring Falkoa's taunt, Tess turned to Rian, breath ragged.
"Rian, you okay?"
"Yeah, I can hang on. You?"
Tess couldn't finish the sentence; tears gathered. What did he mean he could hang on? Falkoa's blade had clearly left marks all over him.
He'd never been this upset in his life. What kind of trash was this bastard to hurt Rian?
Tess gripped the hilt of his sabre hard. Even if it cost him his life, he intended to cut Falkoa's throat.
"Yahhh!"
Tess drew the sabre in and rushed—a trademark Elajin charge.
But the gap in power couldn't be closed by will alone.
Tess's momentum was impressive, but Falkoa retreated faster.
Creating distance revealed his intent. With a cruel grin, Falkoa suddenly pushed off the ground and closed in, deftly parrying Tess's sabre.
"Hah!"
Falkoa moved to Tess's side and drove a knee into her ribs. Her lungs compressed and her breath cut off for a moment.
"Heh, not bad. But you're still green."
Falkoa's greatsword slipped from his hands onto Tess.
Time seemed to slow for her. She could see the descending arc of the blade that would take her neck.
But she couldn't move. As time slowed, so did her body.
"Sorry… Rian. I wanted to at least pay you back once."
At that moment, Rian charged like a bull and tackled Falkoa.
"Aaaargh!"
Falkoa's legs hopped into the air. But Rian's tackle failed. Falkoa, terrifyingly balanced even midair, landed and snapped his knee up, pulling at Rian's nape.
"Guh!"
The impact punched through Rian's solar plexus, through his stomach and out his back.
Was this the combat ability of a fiend bred by war? No method seemed able to unsettle Falkoa.
"Pathetic. Don't worry. I'll take good care of your girl."
Rian's fading consciousness stirred. He and Tess bickered, but Tess was a true friend—someone he respected and admired as a swordsman.
"You son of a—"
Rian grabbed Falkoa's collar and, as if his whole body were aflame, he pulled with all his might.
"You're not taking my friend, you bastard!"
"Ugh!"
Pulled like by a wave, Falkoa was puzzled. He knew Rian was strong, but not enough to rival his schema.
Where had this strength suddenly come from?
Rian slipped behind Falkoa and locked in a wrestling hold. Tucking an arm under Falkoa's armpit left the foe's arms rising, unable to swing.
"You bastard!"
Falkoa flexed his lats and forced his arms down. Rian's nose contorted. It was as if ropes were tied to his shoulders and horses were pulling—his body screamed.
"Guhhhh!"
Still, Falkoa couldn't break free.
Something was off. Opponents he'd faced rarely, if ever, had been physically stronger than him. How could Rian summon this power now?
"Damn it! You little—! Don't let go!"
"Heh heh! Try to break free. This is called the Imagination Schema, idiot."
Mages train the mind; swordsmen train the body. But even for a swordsman whose goal is physical enhancement, one organ is deeply linked to that strength:
The brain.
Perhaps thought can affect the body.
A tiny number of schema users devote their lives to restoring the brain's patterns.
Rian didn't know it, but the name Imagination Schema had come from those people.
Could the determination not to release Falkoa affect the body? If so, would the effect scale with the intensity of thought?
If that were true, thought would have no limit—so if you pushed thought to the extreme, how far would the effect amplify?
Rian decided not to move. He issued precise commands to his body and locked himself into that state.
A sort of mental lock.
People said the Imagination Schema wasn't a true schema, but Rian's monstrous strength could be explained by nothing else.
"Aaah! Let go! I said let go, you bastard!"
Falkoa writhed like a madman. It didn't feel like he was held by a living thing; Rian's body stood stone-still, not budging.
"Tess! Stab him!"
"But..."
Tess understood what Rian meant. It was the rational choice. If not now, they might never beat Falkoa.
But Tess couldn't make the decision. He couldn't kill Rian with his own hand. If they had to die together, fine—but to pierce him himself was impossible.
"Rian..."
"Aaah! Hurry! I can't hold for long!"
Warning signs pulsed through Rian's body. His mind's orders were being obeyed to the letter, but the limits were clear. If Falkoa broke free, Rian's body would likely shatter.
"Tess! Do it now!"
"Yahhh!"
Tess lunged through tears. Rian risked his life to finish his task. Letting this moment slip for sentimentality would make Rian the biggest fool.
Amy arrived at that instant.
"Tess! No!"