Chapter 74

Here and there.

It took about an hour for his consciousness floating between reality and the cracks to settle into his body.

Quilbion checked his memories, then opened his eyes again.

“Sheryl—you know this name, right?”

“It was one of that thing’s names. Seems it settled on Sheryl……”

Winte twisted his head and stared.

“You met that thing there?”

“Just met it? I even gave its throat as a present.”

“Severing a throat. That’s an amusing expression. So that thing died?”

“It probably didn’t die. It seemed similar to me. The body is here and only the consciousness separates and opens its eyes there.”

It had been a dizzying situation.

If he’d fallen asleep there, he probably would have lived and died as the coachman Quilbion for the rest of his life.

“It didn’t kill me right away. It seemed intent on binding me there.”

“Because if it killed you in the crack, there’s also the possibility you’d return here. But still, that thing—no, Sheryl also discovered something interesting. How did it squeeze into the cracks? Even if the surface realm is their world where they can freely come and go, the cracks should have different properties from the surface realm.”

Winte smiled faintly, saying it was interesting.

“But do you have some grudge with that monster?”

“Probably not.”

“Then why is it so desperate to devour you, Lord Winte?”

“Something like self-proof, probably. Or it might be curious what I taste like. They’re amusing children.”

“It’s fine if you find each other amusing, but why involve innocent people……”

Why should I be caught up in monsters’ playground? Quilbion recalled Sheryl’s eyes he’d seen at the last moment.

It was an obsession close to madness.

That woman would absolutely never give up.

Finding Twella, targeting him, the obsession directed at Winte.

He recognized instantly that it was a relationship that would only end with death.

“Winte……”

The honorific ‘Lord’ just wouldn’t come out.

“Call me comfortably. What’s between us.”

“Fine, Winte. I’ll treat you as an elder, but don’t expect respect. Thinking about the shitty situation I’m going through because of what you did……”

“Thinking about it?”

Anger surged up, then scattered in an instant.

“Never mind. I’m the one who loses by talking with you anyway.”

“Remember that the greatest advantage of the Human Tribe is rich emotions. Get angry if you want to get angry, laugh if you want to laugh.”

“Damn it. It’s because that doesn’t work well. I guess I’ve lived too long.”

Even mixing in curses, no emotion was loaded. Like a refrain, like a verbal habit, they just came out.

Winte laughed aloud. It was the first time he’d seen Winte laugh so pleasantly.

“What’s so funny?”

“If a dog you’re raising discusses life with a solemn expression, what would you think?”

“Must be nice living so long, really.”

“It’s not entirely nice, but right now it is. I laughed hard for the first time in a while.”

Quilbion picked up a stone rolling around on the rooftop and threw it at Winte. The stone that flew with a piercing sound struck Winte’s temple hard. With a thwack, Winte’s head bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend.

It was a fatal wound that would have killed a human instantly, but Winte only grinned while restoring his neck bones.

“My memories are jumbled so I’d forgotten, but my body returned to normal?”

Just before being transferred to the crack, Quilbion had been caught up in the sorcery that turned him into a centipede.

He’d fainted after becoming a giant centipede, but now he’d returned to a human body.

“It’s not a permanent transformation. And that’s quite a useful art for you. When you transform into a centipede and return, most of your body’s wounds heal.”

“My body heals on its own even if I leave it alone.”

“You can shorten the time.”

Quilbion looked at his left arm with his discernment eye. A centipede with blue legs was coiled. As if glad to meet again, it raised and shook its antennae.

“Why is this here?”

“Because you swallowed the sorcery’s essence.”

“The sorcery’s essence?”

“Shall we check if you remember properly? There are three ways to learn sorcery. The first is reading documented sorcery and……”

“Swallowing sorcery that’s been implemented. You didn’t tell me the last one. Fortunately, my head is fine.”

A red sorcery book appeared before his eyes. The book the centipede had wrapped its body around.

“Sorcery that’s been fully digested as your own or sorcery for which you’ve established the incantation can be bound to objects through a series of processes. The sorcery you used to contain in talismans is an easy example.”

“If others just swallow the talismans I made, can they use the same sorcery?”

“It’s not that simple. When implementing sorcery for transmission, not only nark but also the intervention of the mental world is needed.”

Mental world.

He’d heard it through Al Terua. It was a term related to magic, so he’d said there was no need to pay much attention to it.

“To put it more simply, you have to give up life.”

“Life?”

“Should I say the lifespan determined by Fate?”

“Was life a consumable?”

“You’re consuming it right now too. It’s obvious.”

“Then I can freely do this thing called transmission. Since it’s a body that doesn’t know when it’ll die.”

Winte smiled.

“It’s not wrong. If a goblin of Yellow Form tried to transmit a secret transmission, it would have to devote everything, but for you, you could recover by resting about a day.”

The red book floating in the air turned black from the bottom up, then soon became ash and disappeared.

“Grimoires made for transmission can usually only be used once. After transmission ends, they disappear like this. The remnants of nark attached to your body should also disappear, but it seems to be clinging to your body to survive.”

Quilbion looked at the centipede wrapped around his arm. When he brought his finger close, it raised its head and flinched.

“Remnants. There’d be no major problem removing it.”

“There wouldn’t be.”

Had it understood human speech? At the word ‘removing,’ the centipede trembled.

“Because there’s intervention of the mental world, the sorcery’s essence contains the thought of the conceiver. That insect could be called the thought of the goblin who made the sorcery.”

“Not satisfied with stealing nark, now I’ve even devoured sorcery made by goblins. Who would consider me human?”

“You’ve already transcended the category of the Human Tribe species. Whether that’s fortune or calamity for you, I don’t know.”

“It’s calamity. What fortune is there in living like this?”

Quilbion glared at the centipede.

Looking closely, it was nibbling at the nark flowing out faintly from his body.

What a parasite.

It was when he was about to grab the head and burst it.

– Save me.

It was a voice transmitted into his head.

He glanced at Winte.

“Not me.”

Which means,

He stared into the centipede’s black eyes.

– I hate pain.

“It won’t hurt. I’ll kill you without even giving you time to feel pain.”

– I hate dying too. I was just born. I’ll just live quietly beside you.

“Why should I raise you?”

– Want to try pulling off an arm?

Was it an insane goblin?

There was nothing more to hear. He gripped the centipede’s body and put pressure on it.

– Hurry and pull off an arm!

“This one’s thoroughly insane.”

– Hurry!

It was so desperate that Quilbion released the pressure from his grip. He’d become inwardly curious. What was it trying to show?

His sixth sense was also quiet, so it didn’t seem dangerous.

“Arms are bothersome.”

Quilbion wrapped his left index finger with his right hand. He pulled while applying pressure.

The flesh slowly tore, then the finger soon came off. Blood dripped down but quickly clotted.

He looked at the removed finger for a moment.

He’d pulled off his finger without it being anything. Intense pain rose through his nerves, but he only felt the pain—he didn’t convulse or feel irritated.

Pain was merely pain.

Compared to his mind being gnawed away, physical suffering had no meaning.

“Even goblins show intense aversion to removing their own body parts, but you don’t even have that now. Congratulations. You’re neither human nor goblin.”

Winte sent applause.

Ignoring him, he looked at the centipede.

“There. It’s not an arm but I pulled off a finger. Now what will you……”

Before the question could finish, something wriggled at the severed finger area.

Looking closely, they were centipede legs.

Centipede legs also sprouted from the removed finger.

– Attach it.

The centipede said.

He brought the severed finger to the cut area. The centipede legs moving around detected each other, then soon gripped tightly.

He quietly watched the joint.

Red blood droplets bubbled at the torn skin, then soon finger sensation returned.

Quilbion swept the wounded area with his palm. What was revealed when the blood was wiped away was a finger completely and properly healed.

He moved his finger while looking at the faintly remaining scar.

“So a body can be removed and reattached.”

Quilbion looked down at the centipede. It was shaking its body excitedly with its antennae raised sharply.

– Now I can live.

“I haven’t said I’ll let you live yet.”

– Why?

“If you ask why……”

There was nothing particular to say.

Far from danger, it was a helpful curse.

“This thing called thought—will it harm me?”

“That thought is remnants. Only the ideal of the one who made or embodied the sorcery seeps through—there’s no intent in it itself. No, that’s wrong. Survival. That alone would be the only command and karma of remnants. Probably.”

‘Probably’ meant there must also be thoughts that cause harm.

The centipede moved around between the fingers of his left hand, then soon wrapped around his index finger.

The centipede transformed into a dark blue ring.

The centipede spoke with only its antennae sticking out.

– This is my spot. I like it here.

“Who decided……”

– I like it here. So please give me this place.

It seemed like a child throwing a tantrum.

Rational conversation seemed impossible. Even if he said no, it wouldn’t listen, and if he said he’d kill it, it seemed like it would cry.

“Winte.”

“What?”

“Are all thoughts like this one?”

“Most would be. They’re no different from having just opened their eyes with the ability to reason. Kill it if you want to kill it. The sorcery won’t break just because the thought disappears. Since you absorbed the essence, that’s no different from a shell.”

He wiggled his index finger.

The centipede was silent. It seemed to have entered a silent protest.

“Fine. Strange ones should hang out together.”

The moment he decided to let it live, the centipede sharply raised its antennae. It seemed to be reading his inner thoughts.

– Good thinking.

“Just sleep quietly.”

– Okay.

It answers well.

He’d unintentionally ended up raising a parasite on his body. No, it might keep increasing.

As he learned sorcery, it would definitely turn out that way.

– Don’t abandon me.

It was a centipede speaking quickly, perhaps sensing crisis.

“You’ll be Pun from now on.”

– Okay. I’m Pun.

“Don’t you ask why?”

– If you say I’m Pun, then I’m Pun.

“……Easygoing fellow.”

Pun was the innkeeper’s name.

He fiddled with the ring. It should be a curse with no substance, yet he could feel its texture. Could others see it too?

“I can see it well.”

Winte spoke before being asked.

“Winte.”

“No. Miracles and such won’t happen either.”

As expected, Winte read ahead and answered. “Can I kill Sheryl?” was the question Quilbion was about to ask.

“When I saw her in the crack, I wasn’t afraid at all. But if I were to face the real thing……”

“You’d offer your heart with your own hands. Those things have far transcended existence.”

Those things.

Quilbion recalled Sheryl’s face and asked.

“Those monsters you raised—how many total are there?”