"So… what's your explanation for this?"
Amidst the ruins of the temple, there was a huge gaping hole in the building, which had been completely destroyed and stripped of its original appearance; all that remained were unrecognisable ruins. And within those ruins, in the room where the fallen body was supposed to be, there was nothing, nothing but the remains of a great deal of corrupt mana, and two demons.
The larger demon looked coldly at his smaller subordinate, his veins bulging with rage, as if he would kill anyone in front of him should his temper worsen any further.
"I swear I left her here! No ordinary human could have touched this body, so how did she vanish?"
The demon said, trembling with anxiety and fear; he could not lie—indeed, it was impossible for him to do so, for his fate depended on his angry master here.
The huge demon placed his hand on the neck of his subordinate, the smaller demon, and squeezed it tightly, threatening angrily, "If you don't know, how can you ask me? Did you think I'd have gone to the trouble of sending you if I could have got in on my own from the start?"
The smaller demon placed his hands on his master's hand as it choked him, but his master angrily threw him aside, causing his injuries to worsen. Yet the demon did not even dare to cry out in pain, lest he further upset his master's temper.
"Did you say there were 18 knights and a boy wanted? Hunt them all down and find the answer; if you fail, your fate will be worse than death."
The demon issued his threat angrily as he glared at him, then spread his wings and flew away, for once he had obtained the fallen corpse, the demon's reward would be priceless.
The younger demon began to cough slowly, clutching his throat, his veins bulging with rage, and whispered with malice, "Athtar!"
Even if he hadn't discovered the reason for that corpse's disappearance, Athtar's previous presence there made him certain that he was the cause.
The demon rose from where he stood and began walking back towards where Athtar was supposed to be: that small town.
On the other side of the forest, Athtar was moving swiftly through the trees. He needed to reach the town before dawn so that he could wash and change out of his torn and tattered clothes, as he'd left his suitcase at the inn.
Athtar had bought that bag before dinner the previous evening; the hotel had a small clothes shop, and Athtar had a little money in his pocket. With some financial help from Christie, he'd bought a few items of clothing.
[ Quest 3 ]
[ Stroke Christie's head three times ]
[ Duration: Unlimited ]
[ Reward ]
[ Purify part of the corrupted mana within the host's body ]
When Athtar saw the new quest before his eyes, he rolled his eyes coldly, thinking to himself, 'Is this your doing?'
But the System did not answer him; it remained silent.
'Hey, System?'
The silence continued, so Athtar sighed and carried on his way coldly, then suddenly heard a female voice in his mind.
[ You don't need to understand my reasons right now… If you become worthy, I'll tell you ]
'Huh? What does that mean? Why am I not worthy?'
[ Because you're just an ignorant, insolent child who doesn't yet understand the grandeur of My Majesty ]
"What big talk for a system that was broken just an hour ago."
[ How dare you call My Majesty 'broken'? ]
"If you're working properly, then stop being so self-important and answer my questions…"
[ Hmph! I'm not obliged to. If you want a servant, why don't you just get one? ]
'I don't need one; I've got you.'
[ You wretch! How dare you insult My Majesty and call me a servant? If only you knew the extent of My greatness—... ]
"Shut up."
[ Do you dare silence me again? You—... ]
The system's voice faded away, and Athtar sighed coldly as he tapped his head lightly; the system's voice echoing in his head had been loud and annoying, giving him a headache.
Athtar continued on his way, and as the sun began to rise, he could already see the city walls. He sighed and hurried on, slipping past the guards, for explaining his current situation to them would have been sheer madness.
Athtar reached the hotel where Christie was staying and slipped inside quietly, returning to his room. The old servant was already awake, and when he saw Athtar's appearance, he was taken aback.
"Has something happened, young man?"
Athtar didn't want to explain what had happened; he went to his suitcase, pulled it along with him, and went into the bathroom.
The servant was surprised, but as Athtar didn't wish to explain, he said nothing and let him go to the bathroom.
Inside the bathroom, Athtar calmly took off his clothes and stared at his body; the marks of the fight were still clear and fresh.
Athtar began to wash himself gently, wiping the blood from his body and washing his hair carefully. The minor wounds would take time to heal, and Athtar noticed no permanent scars.
What annoyed him slightly was a wound on his shoulder; it didn't seem to have healed completely. It was from the night of his death, when an arrow had pierced that spot.
'Never mind, it'll be a reminder of that night,'
he thought coolly, staring into the mirror. Then he sighed and turned away, putting on a fresh outfit consisting of blue trousers with two belts, a white shirt left open at the chest, and over that a red leather jacket that fluttered slightly.
He tucked both blades into their sheaths at his waist, with his small bag on the other side; his hair remained slightly tousled across his face, and he made no attempt to comb it.
When Athtar left the room, he found the servant waiting silently for him by the door. The servant bowed and said, "Lady Christie is waiting for you at the breakfast table in her room."
"Not in the dining room downstairs?"
"No, Lady Christie wished to have breakfast in her room."
"Right…"
He replied coolly and left the room quietly. The room was next door, so he didn't have far to walk. When he opened the door to the adjoining room, he found himself in a room similar to his own, except that there was now a table in the centre with just two chairs, and Christie was sitting in one of them.
"Good morning, Mr Athtar. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by asking to have breakfast together."
Christie smiled at him gently and gracefully, but Athtar said nothing. He approached her with measured, deliberate steps, and when he reached her, he placed his hand on her head and stroked her hair three times in succession.
The servants' eyes widened in shock; Christie was slightly taken aback and her cheeks flushed, and she looked at Athtar with a questioning and curious gaze.
"Thank you for waiting for me…"
He said coolly, then went to sit in the chair opposite her.
"Y-You're most welcome, Mr Athtar..."
Christie replied unconsciously as she looked at him; it had never crossed her mind that Athtar was the sort of person to break down barriers like this.
'No! He's the one who usually puts up barriers between himself and others. What happened to him last night? Has he decided to trust us a little more? But that's no reason for him to stroke my hair! What does that mean?'
Athtar had no idea what thoughts were currently swirling through Christie's mind. He ate his meal in silence, then, after a moment's reflection, looked at the task, convinced that it had been a success.
[ Task 3 ]
[ Stroke Christie's head three times ]
[ 1/3 ]
[ Duration: Unlimited ]
[ Reward ]
[ Purify a portion of the corrupted mana in the host's body ]
When Athtar looked at the notification, he almost swore. He was certain he'd done it three times just a moment ago—how could it possibly have only counted as one?
'Hey, system! What does this mean? I've already stroked her head three times—why does it only show one?'
[ Hmph! ]
'Are you still angry about what happened?'
[ ..... ]
Athtar sighed coolly, closed his eyes, and thought.
"Right, I'm sorry for silencing you; that was childish of me. But I have my reasons—you're always belittling me, and that's provoking. So let's agree not to provoke each other from now on? And I won't silence you again."
[ .... Hmph! It's good that you understand your position ]
After a brief silence, the female voice spoke again.
[ It's not about patting her head three times in a row, but about doing it on three separate occasions, so it doesn't matter if you stroke her head all day—that counts as just once—but if it's three separate times, they'll be counted. You've done it once, so there are two left. The reason the task is so difficult is that there's a lot of corrupted mana this time; even purifying a small amount of that vast amount is actually a huge amount to purify. ]
'But why exactly do I have to do things like this? Wouldn't it be better if the task were related to me? Wouldn't that be more efficient?'
[ It's precisely because it concerns corruption that this is the optimal solution. If you want to understand why, study the world more; perhaps one day you'll be able to grasp it ]
He rolled his eyes slightly.
'I don't care about this world; all I want is revenge.'
[ Fool… Stay ignorant, then… ]
Athtar did not respond to the call and continued to eat in silence. When breakfast was over, the group got ready to leave and hired a new carriage.
As the first carriage belonged to the Kingdom of Kaivan, it would have been unreasonable for it to accompany them all the way south, so it took them to the nearest town and returned.
On the way to the carriage market, Athtar saw the posters bearing his face; the 'wanted' notices were already beginning to spread beyond the kingdom's borders.
Athtar concealed his identity by wearing a mask over his face; his clothes were different from the knight's attire he had previously worn, and he was cautious in his dealings with those around him, particularly the merchants and carriage drivers.
The carriage left the city, heading south. It was slightly larger this time, with a bigger luggage compartment, where Athtar sat. There was a small, enclosed compartment with two doors on either side and two windows, where Christie and her maid sat. At the front, there were two seats side by side, occupied by the driver and the servant.
The journey passed quietly this time, as the road was clear and there were no obstacles for a while. Athtar used the night-time to train, whilst during the day he slept.
There had not been enough of a bond between him and Christie for him to stroke her head, so the task remained unfulfilled. For her part, Christie usually spent her days reading a book or chatting with her maid about various matters.
A few days later, whilst the carriage was parked near a river, where Athtar was training quietly, Christie approached him stealthily and watched him as he swung his sword repeatedly.
Athtar noticed her, stopped training and looked at her curiously, wondering why she had come so close to him.
"You seem to be working hard, Mr Athtar."
Athtar nodded coolly at Christie.
"Have you joined one of the paths, Mr Athtar?"
"No… but I intend to…"
"I see…"
Christie caught up with him and stood close by, gazing out at the river, then spoke after gathering her courage a little.
"During your fight that day, when you saved me… you seemed well-versed in the path of magic… Could you teach me some simple spells?"
Athtar, in turn, stared silently at the river for a while.
"If they're just simple spells, I don't mind."
Christie smiled slightly with joy, then closed her eyes and said, "That'll be enough for me!"
Athtar sheathed his sword, then sat down on the ground; Christie followed suit, crossing her legs modestly.
Athtar wrote something down in their native language, then wrote some characters that looked different from those.
"The basis of magic is the soul's connection with the Mana. You must know at least that much, mustn't you? In any case, everyone has their own way of communicating, but the easiest and most common method is to use the ancient language, from a time when magic was stronger and more advanced than it is now."
"I understand… My father told me about that before…"
"That's good. I'll teach you the words; the rest depends on your soul's ability to communicate with the Mana."
"All right! I'll do my best!"
.
.
.
To Be Continued.