Chapter 28

A feeder wriggled over and devoured the goblin that had turned to ash. Only the faintly remaining nark indicated a goblin had existed there.

Quilbion looked at the now-clean cafeteria floor and said.

“Taking down one is good, but is this okay? Won’t there be problems if another Ascetic comes looking for this bastard?”

“That was just a messenger, not a livestock pen manager. Even if a few like that disappear, the higher-ups won’t say anything. As long as the work they assigned runs smoothly.”

“I see.”

It seemed Ascetic goblins couldn’t be eliminated carelessly, but others could be dealt with.

“There must be quite a few like that in the west.”

“Some are created out of necessity, and some are born naturally, so you could say there are quite a few.”

Quilbion looked at Al Terua.

Knowledge about goblins flowing out so smoothly.

“Don’t even think about asking why I know. I’m tired of it now.”

“I had no intention of asking. We all know there’s no answer even if we ask. But Teacher, what do we do when you’re away?”

He’d been able to get free time thanks to Al Terua designating him as material. If he moved to the west, the time to practice sorcery would disappear.

“I’ll have to get permission when I go.”

“Then we’ll wait without making it obvious. But if there’s no contact even after a week, we’ll move on our own then.”

“Do as you please. Twella will give you the right answer anyway.”

Al Terua wore a faint smile. Looking at his pale face made his mouth taste bitter.

Not being able to trust ‘yourself.’

He couldn’t even imagine what that must feel like.

“I know it won’t help, but hang in there anyway. Smile a bit. It hurts less when you smile even while getting beaten—that’s what I found.”

At those words, Al Terua forcibly pulled up the corners of his mouth. A laugh escaped at the ridiculous expression.

“At least you guys should laugh.”

Al Terua took a step.

“Go back to the dormitory. Come by in the evening.”

“Yes, see you later.”

After Al Terua disappeared, Drich said while cleaning up.

“But can we trust Twella?”

“What?”

“Twella. I haven’t confirmed with my own eyes what kind of power she has. Teacher seems to worship her like a god, but that girl… can we really trust her?”

“I understand you’re anxious, but don’t bring up an innocent kid for no reason.”

He glared and went outside the cafeteria.

Drich followed and grabbed his shoulder.

“We need to judge this coldly.”

“Judge what, exactly?”

Drich’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t get consumed by your temperament. At least the Quilbion I know isn’t someone who gets swept away by emotions. You’re someone who judges situations properly.”

“What you’ve seen was me bewitched by goblins, and this is the real me now.”

“That’s not necessarily true.”

Quilbion let out a long sigh.

He knew well what Drich was worried about. He’d noticed the creeping sense of unease long ago but deliberately ignored it.

Because it’s Twella.

Because she’s the girl who saved me.

Because she’s the woman I want to protect.

“You’re worried Twella might fall to the goblins, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you befriend monsters that dismember people and suck them dry?”

“I wouldn’t befriend them. But I could bow down to survive.”

“I won’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I can trust you because I know you well. But Twella is different. Have you ever heard about what kind of life she lived outside?”

“No. But I can trust her.”

“Betrayal sprouts from trust. People are the type to do anything to save their own lives.”

“So what are you trying to say? There’s nothing to gain from suspecting her.”

“I know. It’s not like we can do anything right now. But we still need to think about it. Just like we’ve considered the possibility of Teacher turning on us, we can’t rule out the possibility of Twella selling us out either.”

At the words ‘selling us out,’ the vein near his temple throbbed. Not throwing his clenched fist was thanks to his reason screaming loudly.

Take Drich’s words to heart, not everything goes ideally, you know this well, blah blah blah.

He unclenched his fist and slapped his cheek with his palm. Not Drich’s cheek, but his own.

Drich flinched at the smacking sound.

“Twella knows the future. This isn’t a lie.”

“Can you be certain?”

“I’ve already confirmed it several times. You remember that day, right? The day you almost had an accident.”

“When the building’s outer wall broke and I nearly got crushed?”

“Right. Twella knew exactly what would happen to you. And… she knew what I would do too.”

That day, Twella had said.

Absolutely don’t move.

But Quilbion had moved.

“I only realized it now, but she was trying on her own all along.”

“Trying? What?”

“Whether she could change that damn fate or not—she must have been trying to figure it out.”

If he’d stayed still and listened to Twella’s words that day, would something have changed?

“The more I think about it, the shittier it gets. The accident happening, me ignoring Twella’s words and moving, you being safe—all of it was predetermined?”

“Quil.”

“No, that’s not it. A few major events are predetermined, but the extras’ lives—nothing about them is set. Even me shouting here right now!”

He spat out the suffocating feeling that seemed to strangle his soul into his voice.

The students who’d been cleaning nearby glanced over briefly, but soon lost interest and continued sweeping.

“Drich. Was me shouting like an idiot just now something fate predetermined, or wasn’t it?”

“…I get it, so calm down.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. It really was a fucked situation.

“Twella leads fate, Teacher worships fate blindly, and you believe fate exists. Goddamn fate.”

After kicking the bare ground satisfyingly, he glared at the sky.

The fate that made him sick just hearing about it reminded him of the terrible religious fanatic he’d met outside.

A man who’d gathered the neighborhood gang and preached about a god’s name that was hard to pronounce.

Live according to god’s will, go against god’s will and only death awaits, god knows everything and god’s eyes float everywhere in the sky.

The god that man spoke of seemed like another form of fate.

Quilbion raised his middle finger toward the sky.

“What does that mean?”

Drich asked.

“This? It’s a good meaning wishing for a long, long life until you’re smearing shit on walls.”

“That’s a curse. Who are you cursing at?”

“God, fate, the future, and so on. Everything that’s fucked.”

After spitting, he took a step.

*

“He’s not here.”

Drich hung the lone burning lamp on the wall.

“He has to leave by today, so there must be things to prepare. He’ll come when he has time, so let’s just do what we were doing.”

What we were doing.

Quilbion sat on the floor while grasping a talisman from among those scattered about. Drich perched his rear on a chair.

“I told you, right? That I got the hang of it.”

Drich gripped a talisman.

The nark moving was visible. He formed a seal with his left hand in a shape he’d never seen before.

The talisman Drich held began turning pitch black. Black energy wriggled out from the corner of the blackened talisman.

The viscous-feeling energy gradually expanded its domain, then soon took on a certain form.

“A hammer?”

“It’s a claw hammer, but you can call it a hammer if you want.”

Drich swung the black hammer held in his hand forcefully.

Whoosh—along with a considerably heavy sound, the talismans that had been stuck to the floor flew up.

Quilbion examined the hammer closely with his discernment. Tightly packed nark was holding onto mana.

“No matter how much I think about it, I just don’t have talent for emission.”

Sorcery was about emitting the ‘force’ that had been substantiated after completing phenomenon induction.

Igniting flames, summoning wind, embodying a function in a talisman—all were emission.

Throwing out the nark dwelling inside the body.

But Drich had skipped emission. He guided his nark, gathered it tightly in the talisman, and swung it.

Each time the hammer cut through empty air, he could see nark and faint mana scattering.

“How long can you maintain that?”

“About 4 minutes?”

“Perfect for ambushing and cracking heads.”

“If I practice, it’ll get longer and longer. This seems to fit my aptitude perfectly.”

“Still, learn the basics. You never know when or how they might be used.”

Quilbion pointed at the sorcery book set aside under the desk. Inside that sorcery book were sorceries for hunting, not sorceries for life’s convenience.

If he practiced and got them into his hands, they’d definitely help.

“I should do it. But I like this side better.”

“But why a hammer of all things? Something like a sword or spear would be better.”

A hammer could only be used when you got right up to the goblin’s nose, and engaging in close combat with monsters that could crack human skulls with bare hands was too dangerous.

Swords or spears could gauge distance, so they’d be safer than hammers.

“It doesn’t work as I want. Since I’m familiar with claw hammers, I guess only this works. What was it called? Mental world? I guess it’s full of only hammers inside.”

Quilbion smiled faintly.

“Why are you familiar with hammers?”

“Where did I tell you to come meet me after we escape from here?”

“Nata Third District. PN Manufacturing Association… Ah.”

“Being Buten doesn’t mean you just play and eat.”

“Even so, isn’t it a life where a pen suits you better than tools?”

“Nata is a country of technicians. It’s a place where technicians are treated well. The technology department also handles one axis of the royal family.”

“I have the skill of feeding pig feed well—do they treat that well too?”

“Not even close.”

What’s familiar manifests.

Quilbion tilted his head.

“Then why am I…?”

He gripped a talisman and operated nark. Without forming a seal, moving only pure nark, blue lightning flashed from the talisman’s end.

Blue lightning that grew like horns and fixed itself to the talisman’s corner.

“Do you like lightning?”

Drich asked incredulously.

“How could I like it? I hated rainy days the most. The pig smell gets worse, the feed absorbs moisture and becomes hard to manage. Above all, this lightning…”

Quilbion ended his words by clicking his tongue. Ruminating on it only ruined his mood—it was a memory not worth revisiting.

Quick-witted Drich didn’t ask again what the story was.

But he seemed inwardly curious, sneaking glances, then obviously pretending not to notice when their eyes met. It would have been more comfortable if he’d just asked outright.

“I was sold.”

He spoke while pulling up childhood memories.

“Sold?”

“Me, I mean. I was sold. It was a day when it was raining insanely hard. I went to the livestock pen owner’s house holding that man’s hand—not father, that man. I waited outside the house in the rain without knowing what was happening. That’s when lightning struck down like a total bastard. Very blue and noisy lightning.”

A wonderful transaction that reduced mouths to feed while pocketing money.

His resentment didn’t last long. He could have stamped him with a slave brand and screwed up his life, but he’d handed him over to a fairly decent owner.

His mouth was rough and his kicks harsh, but his money calculations were thorough and he provided meals on time. He’d even taught him some letters.

Enough time had passed that he could smile bitterly thinking of it as the last conscience of the bastard who’d once been his father.

“You wouldn’t know, but kids are money. Raise them well and use them as labor, or sell them.”

“……”

“Hey, if you heard a joke, at least laugh. It’s awkward.”

Quilbion glared at the lightning blooming from the talisman.

“If I can fuck up those monsters with this thing I hate, that’d be pretty good too.”

Isn’t there a way to use it usefully like Drich? He tried gathering all the nark circling inside his body and transferring it to the talisman.

The lightning seemed to grow faintly, then soon fizzled out.

“…I guess I have to use sorcery.”

Saying that, he looked at the clock.

“But when is this guy coming?”

“Who knows.”

Drich shrugged his shoulders.

And that night.

Al Terua did not appear.