Chapter 38: True Intention (3)

“Go to Banyaksenir.”

“I was prepared for it, but… so it really is there.”

Vigo’s face sank into thought.

Banyaksenir was one of the three largest branches of the Golden Dawn Society, a great city that served as their base. At present, it was where they were most active and the most powerful of their forces had gathered.

Now, that troublesome force was plotting to use Nike.

“Since they hold the most radical ideology, it’s difficult to predict their actions.”

Nike was an irregular existence capable of overturning the world. Now that they knew of him, there was no way they would leave him alone.

Their movements clearly showed they were willing to clash directly with the Order.

“Of course. Those who worship the Witch of Sin are all like that…”

Vigo bit down on his cigarette and rubbed his eyelid.

“Of all things, it had to be the most tiresome bastards causing trouble, ugh.”

Just imagining it made him curse. His worry was not small.

“…Still, to catch a witch, one must enter the witch’s nest.”

He exhaled smoke. One person came to mind, someone of utmost importance at this moment, someone he had to be wary of.

“Does the hound have the strength to endure there?”

“There are still many uncertainties. The biggest concern is that once his mana is consumed, he becomes drastically defenseless.”

“Hm.”

“On top of that, since he doesn’t sacrifice humans, his mana reserves are extremely low. That’s why he seems to use his mana solely for regeneration. But regeneration itself consumes enormous mana.”

“I see.”

It was a problem born of Nike’s small total mana pool. He was already lacking, and he was using it inefficiently.

The only way to solve this would be for Nike to devour witches and increase his mana reserves.

But that couldn't be done right now, so the only option was to prevent Nike from wasting mana on “regeneration.”

For now, they were breaking the taboo by trying to increase his mana through “consumption,” but when and how side effects would erupt was unknown.

There was a reason taboos were taboos.

“After raising and feeding him this far, it would be troublesome if he just got killed by a witch or stolen away… very troublesome.”

“I also agree that it’s still a little too soon to take him to Banyaksenir.”

With a weary face, Vigo stubbed out his cigarette in Morgana’s dripping blood beneath her.

“No. He’s going no matter what. He must grow quickly.”

“…”

“We’ll just have to use rougher methods.”

“He won’t listen.”

“A dog must be disciplined with a stick.”

* * *

“B-Beetraayaal!?”

Nike twisted his body violently.

Of course, his will alone couldn’t move his body as he wished.

His head throbbed with the sting of betrayal.

Tears welled up.

“Vigo! Fraud! Liar! Die!”

“Worry about your own condition first.”

Ssshhh!

Vigo conjured a scythe of shadow in the air.

It was sorcery copied by countless humans, who sacrificed much to mimic the witches’ magic.

With it, he had slain countless witches.

Just like how he intended to kill Nike right here.

The great scythe in Vigo’s hand overflowed with murderous intent. Holding it with one hand, he rubbed his chin.

He thought again, and realized his words had been too harsh. Calling him a witch’s spawn was surely enough to wound him deeply.

“Hm… I take back calling you a witch’s spawn. Even I think that was too much.”

But words and water cannot be taken back to where it came from. Nike trembled with enormous betrayal. Whether from the poison’s paralysis or from betrayal, he couldn't tell.

“Ugh, aaah!”

Either way, rage filled him. Nike grit his teeth and tried to summon strength. Forcing his paralyzed body to move made it feel like his bones were shattering.

Watching silently, Vigo spoke with a calm yet cold tone.

“Nike, you’ve never experienced the fear of death before, have you?”

“When your limbs are cut, they regenerate. Even a hole in your head fills back up after all.”

“Perhaps that’s why… you seem to rely too much on that power and become stubborn. Fighting isn’t just about charging in blindly. If you ignore the lessons and advice your seniors bled to learn, what good will it do?”

“But with your current mana, at best you can revive once after death.”

“So this time, I wonder…”

Vigo grinned slyly, running his hand along the scythe.

At his touch, the dark energy rippled. Shapeless, yet once infused with killing intent, it became a merciless blade.

“Will you survive?”

His true killing intent infused the scythe. The shadow hardened like steel, humming with a savage sound.

The sound alone felt like it was slicing into skin. It was the killing intent of one whose skill had reached its peak.

Sensing it, Nike struggled desperately.

“Gyagh!”

The manifested killing intent targeted his throat. For a brief moment, Nike truly thought he would die, and he summoned every last ounce of strength.

With it, he thrashed like a fish, rolling his body aside. He narrowly dodged the scythe, but a cut bled faintly across his neck.

Vigo pulled the embedded scythe from the ground with a click of his tongue.

“So you realize if you hadn’t dodged just now, you’d be dead.”

He was indeed a swindler.

Nike gritted his teeth where he lay. As Vigo had said, for the first time in his life, Nike was feeling the threat of death.

Against Sestria, he had died before he could even feel it, but now he savored the fear fully. It was a strange sensation.

‘Ugh…! my body.’

His mana would not respond, and his body was frozen.

Even his tongue was stiff, making him unable to scream.

Without giving him time, Vigo swung the scythe wide.

Whoosh!

The wind swept past, and a range far wider than the scythe’s arc was cleaved. Trees toppled like falling leaves.

Nike, unable to move, bit his tongue, drawing blood, relying on pain to move his body. Blood filled his mouth, tasting iron and foul.

As he tried to spit it out,

“Gagh!”

Blood suddenly sprayed from his limbs.

Out of nowhere, wounds burst open and blood gushed.

Even though he tried to dodge, Vigo’s strikes covered ranges impossible to avoid fully. By the time he realized, he was already cut.

It was an overwhelming skill.

He recalled countless weapon training sessions. No instructor, not even Carlton, had ever driven Nike into a corner.

But against Vigo, even without poison, nothing would have changed.

Vigo’s skill was on another level. He had clearly surpassed human limits.

Drip, drip.

Nike leaned against a tree, barely standing, staring at Vigo. The man approached slowly like the Grim Reaper.

“Without regeneration, you’re weaker than an ordinary hunter.”

Vigo mocked him, even casually putting a cigarette in his mouth.

“You don’t use weapons, you haven’t properly learned hunting techniques. You couldn’t even tell a basic poison apart.”

“Urgh…”

“Tell me then. Without mana, what can you do? Do I have any reason to keep you alive?”

Sssht. Vigo’s arm moved lightly.

Thud—

Along with branches, Nike’s left arm fell. His eyes blinked.

“Ah, ugh? Heh?”

He looked at his severed arm, his unhealed shoulder, and his mind went blank.

Truly.

What a deranged swindler he was…

“I want a capable hound. But are you capable now? I don’t need a dog that only catches pheasants or deer.”

“…”

Slowly, Nike’s demeanor shifted.

No more shaking eyes, no more confused expressions. His lowered ashen eyes now gleamed with fighting spirit.

He was like a tiger radiating murderous aura, but Vigo felt no fear. He still could cut Nike’s throat any time if he wanted.

The veteran wanted to see the rookie show spirit.

To see him thrash in desperation at the edge, and finally overcome it.

Whether through magic, or by showing his own path, it didn’t matter.

All he needed was a capable hound.

As long as he grew somehow, it was enough.

‘Now, show me.’

As if to answer, Nike stood.

He bled heavily, but time had passed and his astonishing recovery was already purging the poison. Flesh was filling his shoulder.

This was much faster than Vigo expected.

Vigo smiled with satisfaction.

“Heheheh.”

“Grrr…”

Gripping the stump of his severed arm, Nike bared his fangs, like a wounded beast.

His eyes brimmed with killing intent, more than ever. He no longer saw Vigo as his leader.

Nike clenched a dagger between his teeth. Vigo’s eyes widened.

‘Oh? He took up a weapon? Pushed to the brink, he finally shows his claws huh.’

His plan to corner Nike had worked, but facing him truly fighting back was still daunting.

In a flash, Vigo’s fingers twitched. Something massive seemed to rise behind Nike.

“…!”

Nike left no afterimage.

Clang—!

In the same moment, the dagger’s tip came right up to Vigo’s eyelid. He blocked it reflexively, but no one else could have reacted to this speed.  

“Ha, haha… sharp indeed. It’s too late for me to apologize, right?”

“Betrayal. Death.”

* * *

“Hah… hah…”

Nike trembled, hiding in the bushes. His breath was ragged, his body in ruins. He felt he would break at any moment.

He was truly being hunted. Not as a game, not as training, but seriously hunted.

The master, the great teacher he had trusted, had poisoned him to suppress his mana, then earnestly hunted him.

Nike had fought back in fury, but even that hadn’t worked.

Even his vaunted brutal hand-to-hand combat was useless before Vigo.

The thought he might really die made him shudder.

“Swindler! Swindler!”

He couldn’t understand why this was happening. He had done nothing wrong. What mistake had he made?

Was this all just because he’d been a little stubborn? That’s far too harsh for that.

But Vigo was serious.

He truly had a purpose in hunting Nike. And Nike knew he wasn’t going to hold back.

“Survive…”

The urge to live rose to his throat.

To survive, he had to defeat Vigo. That was the only way now.

Or at least, discover why Vigo was doing this.

In the night forest where beasts cried, Nike hid from the merciless hunter and thought.

What must he do to live?

— When you feel the threat of death, how will you live?

— The day will come when you have no mana left to heal.

— Will you waste it all on regeneration every time?

Nike mulled over Vigo’s words.

There were hints within.

That mad old man wanted something.

— If you fight without getting hurt, you won’t even risk dying, will you?

“Hmm…”

For the first time, Nike did what he had never done at the training school which was “think.” He worked his mind, and sought a solution.

He hated using his head, but once he accelerated, none in the world could outthink him.

— Don’t waste your tiny scrap of mana.

— Keep that up and you’ll die quickly.

“…?”

— Whether you use magic, or become strong enough not to need regeneration, pick one.

Wait.

Now that he thought about it, Vigo had been kind enough to tell him outright. It was just that his savage scythe swings left Nike no room to process it.

He’d been too busy dodging to listen.

But now, recalling his words, he realized what the problem was.

After much thought, Nike reached a conclusion.

“Mad swindler. I’ll kill you!”

Clenching his fists, Nike sprang to his feet.

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