Chapter 60 - Damn Reincarnation

Desert

If he was going to ask that, he should have talked first. What kind of bastard attacked out of nowhere and only then started asking questions? Raman glared at Eugene as these thoughts ran through his head.

He had heard the question, but he did not lower his guard. Eugene stood at a slant, yet Raman could find no opening to exploit. The boy had closed that immense distance in an instant and knocked aside Raman’s sword force with a strike delivered from an unstable stance. On top of that, he wielded magic expertly without even chanting.

It made no sense.

Raman swallowed hard. Objectively speaking, he was an exceptional warrior. At least in this region, there was no warrior better than him.

That very awareness made him wary. He dragged a foot backward and widened his field of vision. His fallen men. None were dead, but they were hardly unharmed. Those struck by Magic Missiles had broken bones, while his lieutenant had a crossbow bolt embedded in his shoulder and was bound by sand tentacles.

“Aren’t you going to answer?”

Even as Eugene asked, the sand tentacles did not disappear. Dozens of Magic Missiles were still circling above the fallen men. Maintaining several spells at once while wielding a sword? Without leaving a single opening, at that? Raman had never studied magic, but he knew that what Eugene was doing should have been impossible for a nineteen-year-old.

“... We’re bandits.”

“Nahama must be a fucking superpower.”

At Raman’s answer, Eugene twisted his lips into a sneer.

“The leader of a shitty little bandit gang with fewer than ten men can even pour sword force out of his blade. If a gang this size is that good, one with over a hundred men must have at least ten bastards who can use sword force.”

“...”

“How strong must the soldiers who put those gangs down be? Truly impressive. With military strength like that, Nahama could unite the whole continent, couldn’t it?”

“We’re... somewhat special bandits...”

“Hey, old man. Cut the fucking bullshit and tell me the truth.”

Eugene chuckled as he spoke. He took a long stride forward, and Raman stopped retreating.

“Actually, you don’t have to answer. Go ahead and keep your mouth shut. I’ll get it out of you myself.”

Was this really a young master of the illustrious Lionheart family? His face was still youthful, but the words coming out of his mouth were as coarse as a tavern mercenary’s. And that gaze. That naked killing intent pouring off him. Could a sheltered hothouse flower possibly exude killing intent like that?

“... Who are you?”

Raman knew it was a ridiculous question, but he could not help asking.

“I don’t get what you mean. You followed me knowing who I was, didn’t you?”

“... Eugene Lionheart.”

“So you do know.”

“Are you... really Eugene Lionheart?”

“Who else would I be?”

As he spoke, Eugene kicked off the ground. Sand burst from the dune in every direction. Raman kept Eugene in sight amid the countless grains.

Or so he thought. In an instant, Eugene vanished. Speed alone could not account for that movement. The mana in the air churned, and Raman’s sensitivity to energy caught it. He hastily twisted and swung his kukri to the side.

‘Even Blink?’

CLANG!

The kukri collided with Wynnyd. A thin but densely concentrated layer of mana coated Wynnyd’s blade.

Sword force. Raman had not been certain at their first clash, but now there was no denying it. To keep mana from dispersing upon contact with sword force, one had to use sword force as well.

He did not even have time to reel at that realization. Eugene was not the only thing he had to worry about. A chill swept over him from behind. Magic Missiles hidden among the exploding grains of sand swooped toward his back.

Magic Missile was a First Circle spell. Any mage could cast it, and its convenience made it a favored offensive spell even at higher circles. It required only a small amount of mana, and its trajectory could be freely altered according to the caster’s control over mana.

That was something Eugene had excelled at even in his previous life. His mind connected with every projectile, and the Ring Flame Formula amplified their power. Raman could not afford to ignore them.

Raman’s core released mana. Grayish-white mana enveloped his entire body. A mana shield. Since this defensive technique merely wrapped the body in the user’s mana, it made no distinction between mages and warriors. Its defensive strength, however, varied enormously with the user’s level of mastery.

A mana shield cast by a warrior of Raman’s caliber should ordinarily have blocked a First Circle attack spell with ease. Instead, he felt a heavy impact shake his body. His stance faltered, and Eugene’s sword slipped through the opening.

“Gah!”

He was going to be cut.

He was not. Eugene’s sword merely brushed the surface of Raman’s mana shield. It had not missed. Raman’s eyes widened.

“You insult me!”

He had been spared. Raman roared and swung his kukri furiously. Each time the crescent-curved blade sliced through the air, it made a distinctive whistling sound.

He swung dozens of times, but never reached Eugene. With only slight shifts of his feet, Eugene evaded Raman’s blade. A few swings like these should never have tired him out. Yet Raman’s breathing grew increasingly ragged.

It was the pressure. He was swinging with everything he had, yet he could not land a blow. The Lionheart boy was no longer smiling as he had before. His eyes were calm, utterly unshaken. Even facing slashes that could kill him with a mere graze, he remained that composed.

That weighed on Raman. And he could not focus solely on Eugene. Another spell might fly at his back at any moment. The ground might give way beneath him as it had beneath his lieutenant. Something might even fall from above.

The variety of attacks demanded greater vigilance. That restricted his movements. He could not commit to a bold assault.

“I won’t use magic.”

Eugene said it tauntingly just as Raman was gasping for breath. The words made Raman’s hair stand on end. Never before had he suffered such humiliation.

“Raaaagh!”

He released his ragged breath in a roar. The sword force around his kukri swelled further. He would kill him. Raman’s master had given no such order, but the wounded pride of a warrior took precedence over his master’s commands.

‘That’s a little better.’

It had been years since Eugene had exerted himself physically, and this was the first time in his reincarnated body that he had fought someone pouring out sword force like that. When sparring with Gilead, Gion, and the other knights at the main estate, they had never used sword aura or sword force, for fear of an accidental injury.

So he had wanted to see a little of it. Yet this old man was far too restrained for someone claiming to be a bandit. However often he swung, attacks without the intent to kill were nothing but light.

Now they had some weight. Eugene smirked and moved his shoulders and arms.

SH-SH-SH!

Retreating footsteps sent grains of sand flying, and droplets of blood from fresh cuts mingled with them. Raman was watching it happen, yet he could not fully comprehend either what he saw or what had happened to his body.

‘I’ve been cut.’

How many times? His whole body stung. None of the cuts were deep. They had merely grazed his skin. Not even his muscles had been severed, let alone his bones. Had the strikes been too shallow? No. Eugene had spared him. Raman’s beard trembled.

“Raaagh!”

Raman roared again and lunged at Eugene. But the result was little different this time. In the time it took Raman to advance one step, Wynnyd unleashed dozens of slashes. Unbelievably swift swordplay. More astonishing still, not one of the wounds overlapped another. The boy was not swinging blindly. He knew precisely where his sword would travel and where it would cut.

‘Control over mana. Magic. And... swordsmanship too... How can someone like this exist?’

Raman cursed the heavens. Blood streamed from his entire body, yet he charged Eugene once more. Eugene snorted at his valor.

BOOOOM!

Clouds of sand billowed up. Raman stood in their midst, panting. He had amplified his sword force for an instant, then detonated it. But once again, he had failed to reach Eugene.

“You ought to look after your men.”

The voice came from behind. A chill ran down Raman’s spine, and he spun around.

He saw his lieutenant and the other soldiers floating in the air. Eugene tossed them aside carelessly and slipped Wynnyd inside his cloak.

“What... are you... doing?”

“Can’t you see? I’m putting my sword away.”

“I haven’t lost yet!”

“I know.”

Eugene cracked his knuckles and approached Raman.

“That’s why I’m going to beat you.”

“Raaaagh!”

Raman charged with a roar. Eugene ducked beneath the incoming slash and clenched his fist.

CRACK!

His mana-wrapped fist crushed Raman’s mana shield and buried itself in his side.

“Urgh!”

His breath caught. Eugene did not stop there. Expertly turning his body, he fairly delivered a matching punch to Raman’s other side. Then came a blow to his stomach. When Raman staggered, unable to withstand it, Eugene swung his leg and kicked him in the thigh.

Even after that, he did not let Raman fall. He grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright, then drove his fist into the man’s solar plexus a couple of times. When Raman tried to vomit, Eugene smashed his jaw upward, preventing him from opening his mouth.

“Gurgh...”

His consciousness kept cutting out. Raman still held his kukri. He tried to swing it, desperate to escape this predicament, but could not manage it. Eugene seized his wrist and twisted it.

With his other hand, he grabbed Raman’s head. He had used his sword first, then deliberately put it away. That was not consideration to avoid killing him. It was naked contempt, meant to break his spirit. A demonstration that he could beat the shit out of someone like Raman with his bare hands.

And he was doing exactly that. Raman’s spirit had long since broken. Being beaten by a nineteen-year-old boy’s bare hands hurt far more, and felt far more miserable, than being cut dozens of times by a sword.

“Wa—”

He wanted to say “wait.” Eugene did not hear him out.

BAM!

Raman’s head slammed into the sand. Since the ground was not hard, there was no need to worry about his skull being smashed.

‘I don’t even know who’s behind him.’

This was different from when Eugene had confronted a black mage in Aroth. He was in a foreign country, without Lovellian to back him up. If this old man served a Nahama noble, the incident might become a political issue.

He did not want to add more wrinkles to Gilead’s already troubled, busy face.

That did not mean he intended to show excessive mercy.

BAM! BAM!

Eugene repeatedly slammed Raman’s head into the sand. His already broken spirit was crushed completely. Sand filled his eyes, nose, and mouth with its gritty dryness. Tears and blood turned the sand to mud.

“Please... stop...”

He really would die. Not an honorable death in battle, but death while pretending to be a bandit in some corner of the desert. That was horrifying, and so was the pain. Raman barely managed to get the words out in a trembling voice. Only then did Eugene’s hand stop.

“Who are you?”

“I’m...”

The instant Raman hesitated over his answer, Eugene slammed his head into the ground again.

“Too slow. When I ask, answer immediately. Better yet, answer before I ask.”

What the hell did he mean, answer before he asked? Raman thought it, but did not question him.

“M-my name’s Raman Shulhob.”

“‘Name’s’? You fucking bastard.”

BAM!

Raman’s head slammed into the sand again.

“M-my name is Raman Shulhob, sir.”

BAM!

“W-what do you want me to say...?”

“‘You’? You fucking bastard.”

BAM!

“Please stop!”

After Eugene had slammed him down several times like that, the lieutenant floating in the air writhed and screamed. Blood pouring from his nose and mouth, Raman looked up at him.

“O-our master is Tairi Al-Madani...”

BAM!

The lieutenant had answered, but it was Raman’s head that hit the ground. In that brief moment, Eugene understood their relationship. This stubborn old man would not answer no matter how many times his head was slammed down.

BAM!

“Who’s that?”

He asked after another slam. Eugene’s eyes were on the lieutenant, not Raman. Dizzy, Raman replied in a fading voice.

“Don’t... don’t say any...”

“Our master... Lord Tairi Al-Madani is the emir of Kajitan!”

The lieutenant ignored Raman. He feared Eugene, who was smashing Raman’s head into the ground before his eyes, more than their distant master.

Kajitan was the city immediately outside the western gate through which Eugene had entered the country. In other words, this Raman bastard served Kajitan’s lord.

BAM!

“Our... master... you...”

“‘You’? You fucking bastard.”

BAM!

“To follow... Young Master Eugene... secretly...”

BAM!

“I don’t really know why... But...”

BAM!

“Please let go of our captain’s head! We really don’t know... the exact reason. B-but...”

BAM!

“He told us... to keep you from entering Kazani...!”

Only then did Eugene stop slamming Raman’s head down.

“Why?”

“I... don’t really know the reason...”

BAM!

“Really...”

BAM!

“It’s true. Truly, I swear on everything I have. I really don’t know. Really.”

The lieutenant begged, tears streaming down his face. Eugene watched him for a moment, then snorted and released Raman’s head.

That did not mean he let Raman rest comfortably. Eugene sat his ass down on Raman’s back and stroked his own chin.

Kazani. The name of the desert he would enter if he kept going straight.

Eugene’s hometown—the Turas frontier of three hundred years ago—lay in the heart of Kazani.

“Why tell me not to go in?”

“Th-there’s nothing there.”

“There’s never anything in a desert.”

“In Kazani... not even beasts or monsters live. There are no oases either.”

That was only natural. Kazani was a relatively recent desert, and the source of the sandstorms that gradually ate away at Turas’s territory. It had no oases, and not even the occasional rain fell there. Kazani was a harsh land where no one could survive.

It was not as though there had been no attempts to develop that vast desert. Just a few decades ago, Kazani had contained an artificial oasis and a village built around it.

But... a sudden sandstorm had swallowed the oasis and village whole. After this happened several times, Kazani became an uninhabited wasteland.

‘Is it a base for sandcasters?’

That was his first thought. It was blatantly obvious that Nahama was using desertification to eat away at Turas, but that did not mean they wanted to let a foreigner into Kazani, especially a young master of the prestigious Lionheart family.

‘Amelia Merwin...’

The person Eugene was most wary of in Nahama was Amelia Merwin. A black mage who had contracted with the Demon King of Incarceration and taken refuge in Nahama.

Her temperament was foul, and her power was like a natural disaster, so even Nahama treated her cautiously. Entry into the Ashur Desert, where her dungeon stood, was strictly forbidden not only to tourists but also to Nahama’s citizens.

Ashur was far from here, and he had no reason to visit it. It was also far from the place where Anise had last been seen.

“... Hmm.”

Eugene gathered his thoughts. Raising his head, he looked at Raman’s men, who were buried in the sand. They had not remained idle while Raman was being beaten. They had tried to attack Eugene several times, so he had used magic to bury them with only their heads sticking out.

“You lot go back.”

Eugene waved them away, then tapped the top of Raman’s head.

“You’re coming with me.”

“... Pardon?”

“I have to enter Kazani no matter what, you see? That’s fine, but it’ll be a pain if someone picks an unnecessary fight with me there.”

“What does that... have to do with me coming along...?”

“If some bastard I don’t know gives me shit, I’ll put you out front.”

“...”

“You understand, right? When I put you out front, you drop your master’s name. You said your master is the emir of Kajitan, didn’t you? That name should settle most trouble.”

“... Th-that...”

“Would you rather I kill you here? Of course, your men will die with you.”

“...”

“Or would you rather go back to your master and report that you failed to follow me and got beaten within an inch of your life? Of course, I won’t keep my mouth shut either. You told me that fucking lie about being bandits at first, remember? The emir of Kajitan disguised his men as bandits and tried to steal a Lionheart treasure... How does that sound?”

“Th-that’s...! I had no intention of...”

“Will people believe you or me? One thing’s certain: the Lionheart main family will believe me, no questions asked. And I happen to have something worth stealing.”

With a broad grin, Eugene drew Wynnyd’s hilt out of his cloak to show him.

“Know what this is? It’s Wynnyd, the Storm Sword, wielded by the Lionheart ancestor, Vermouth the Great himself. Anyone would covet something like this. Most people will probably think exactly that: the emir of Kajitan pulled this fucking stunt because he wanted Wynnyd.”

Raman could only open and close his lips, unable to find words. He had known Eugene for only a short time, but he could not possibly dismiss what Eugene said as an empty threat.

What if Eugene really spread that story? Raman would lose his head, and so would his men. Perhaps even his master, Tairi Al-Madani, would lose his head as well.

“I-I understand.”

Raman had no choice but to answer that way.