Chapter 94 - Damn Reincarnation

< Samar >

Elves were fleet of foot. In a forest, especially, they ran so swiftly that they seemed to have magic helping them.

But even an elf could not run fast on one foot. Though the speed was astonishing for someone with only one foot, it was impossible to shake off seasoned hunters.

The elf's chest felt ready to burst. The crude prosthetic foot had already broken. Dizziness clouded the elf's head.

The elf sensed that collapse was near, but could not bear to let it happen. After barely making it to Samar, the thought of where the elf might wake up after collapsing was unbearably frightening.

“Hyah!”

Sharp shouts rang out nearby. They belonged to the natives. The warriors riding enormous Bakan wolves were enjoying driving the fleeing elf before them.

They could have caught their prey long ago. They held back only to let despair break the elf's spirit.

An elf was valuable prey. Rather than capture elves to use as slaves themselves, the native hunters preferred selling them to foreign slave traders who came looking to buy them.

That meant they could not seriously injure their quarry. Having only one foot already lowered this one's value; leaving scars as well would drive the price down far too much.

“... Ah...!”

The elf, who had been running with a limp, stopped with a despairing cry. In that frantic flight, there had been no attention to spare for the surrounding sounds. No, it was the terror of the natives' shouts that had clouded all reason.

And so the elf had been driven to a cliff. With trembling eyes, the elf looked down. It was a dizzying drop, with a river flowing far below.

There had to be another way. The elf limped backward. Long spears plunged into the ground all around.

“Eek!”

The elf screamed and hunched trembling shoulders. The native warriors had blocked the escape route. Their Bakan wolves bared sharp fangs and growled.

The natives in their hideous masks snickered and beckoned to the elf, signaling for their prey to stop resisting and submit quietly. The elf clenched trembling lips.

There was no reasoning with these savages. The elf had begged them again and again from their first encounter, but they merely jabbered in an incomprehensible native language.

The elf faltered backward. The natives dismounted from their Bakan wolves and approached, putting down their spears and ostentatiously spreading both arms wide.

Round masks. Narrow, slitlike eyeholes. Within them, the elf saw eyes gleaming with greed and lust. Those gazes spurred the elf into motion.

Swallowing the scream that threatened to burst out, the elf leaped off the cliff.

* * *

SPLASH, SPLASH.

Kristina held up her trouser legs and trampled the laundry. Before becoming a candidate for sainthood, she had been an orphan left in a convent's care. Consequently, she was accustomed to chores like washing clothes.

“You certainly have an easy life.”

Being accustomed to it did not mean she enjoyed it. She turned to Eugene with a narrow-eyed glare.

“I'm not just playing around, either.”

Eugene sat beside the river with his fishing rod propped up. Not that he was paying attention to his fishing. He had even set out a chair, in which he sat engrossed in a grimoire.

“Reading a grimoire teaches me magic, and learning magic makes me stronger. The stronger I get, the less danger we'll face on our journey. And then...”

“You certainly do go on.”

“I've explained it several times already, but you keep arguing. If you didn't want to put up with this, you shouldn't have followed me.”

Eugene turned a page with a sneer.

“It's not as if I'm lazing around. Or making you do everything. Haven't you heard of dividing up the work?”

“I should have kept my remarks to myself. Please, do concentrate on your reading.”

“It's not as if I've only been making you do chores like laundry. I do the hunting and fighting, and I dry the clothes, too. What do you do? Laundry and cooking? And your cooking tastes so bad that I handle most of that, too.”

“Aren't you going to read?”

“Since we're on the subject, there are far too many things wrong with your cooking. How many times do I have to tell you I like strong seasoning? And don't burn the meat to a crisp. I like it with a little blood still seeping out.”

“I do it out of concern for your health.”

“You mean you're cooking it to suit your own tastes. I'm fucking healthy. I'm not going to get sick from eating heavily spiced meat dripping with blood.”

Kristina closed her mouth without replying. It had been almost a month since they entered the forest. Much had happened along the way, and she had come to understand just how overbearing Eugene could be.

She could never beat him in an argument, especially. Kristina considered herself a compassionate member of the clergy, but whenever she talked with Eugene, she often felt the urge to forget all that and smack him across the back of the head.

“Doesn't that book contain any laundry magic?”

“Doesn't divine magic have laundry spells?”

“Why should divine magic include laundry spells?”

“Then why should I learn laundry magic? How often am I going to wash my own clothes?”

That was a lie. Among the many spells he had learned in Aroth was laundry magic. He was simply teasing Kristina to amuse himself. If he admitted now that he actually knew a laundry spell, she might slap him across the face.

Besides, it was Kristina's clerical robes being washed. Eugene had plenty of spare clothes stored in his cloak, but she did not.

She did have a bag enchanted with spatial magic, but its storage capacity fell far short of the Cloak of Darkness. Traveling through the forest left clothes dirty in less than a day, and Kristina could not abide filth on clerical robes that ought to be immaculate.

[“Why not wear something else?”]

[“What else should a member of the clergy wear but clerical robes? Accompanying you is God's will, Eugene, so I cannot take them off.”]

It was not entirely incomprehensible. In his previous life, Anise had also insisted on clerical robes when traveling.

'Though in Helmuth, she wore whatever she could find.'

At any rate, Kristina had brought this business of washing clothes barefoot in cold water upon herself. Thus, Eugene felt not the slightest guilt about withholding his laundry magic. Once she finished, he dried the wet clothes with a wind spirit. Surely that was more than enough to fulfill his obligations.

“... Hmm.”

Eugene stopped reading and looked up. It was not because his fishing rod had moved. He rose, dusted off his backside, and looked upstream.

“A monster?”

Kristina paused in wringing out her waterlogged robe and turned toward him. This forest teemed with monsters, and the river was no exception. Monsters in the water sometimes attacked while she was doing laundry.

“No,” Eugene replied, picking up his fishing rod.

“A big catch.”

Grinning, he swung the rod. The fishing line unspooled far out, infused with his mana. He guided it at will and caught the object floating downstream.

“... An elf?”

Kristina looked surprised as well. Eugene set the elf he had reeled in on the riverbank. The southern Great Forest of Samar was always hot and humid, but its water was cold. He looked down at the deathly pale elf and reached out.

The elf's body was ice-cold, but still breathing. First, Eugene called a wind spirit to dry the wet clothes, then conjured a flame.

“Kristina.”

“Yes.”

Kristina abandoned her laundry and came over to the elf. Her hands, glowing with brilliant light, swept over the elf's body. Color returned so quickly that they could watch it happen.

'... A former slave.'

Lifting the clothes revealed a brand near the navel. Slavery had already been outlawed in his previous life, but even then, illegal slaves had been plentiful.

“... The foot...”

“It was cut off a long time ago. Probably did it themselves.”

Eugene glanced at the elf's left foot as he spoke. The stump was ragged and mangled, bleeding profusely. A cheap prosthetic must have chafed the flesh.

“Could this elf have escaped from a slave trader?”

“We'll find out when we wake them.”

Pitiful as the elf's circumstances were, this chance encounter was fortunate for Eugene. He took the elf by the shoulders and gave a few gentle shakes.

“Guh.”

Before opening any eyes, the elf coughed and brought up water, then twisted and groaned.

“Don't move too much.”

The urgent injuries had been treated, but the elf's condition could not be called good by any stretch. Bruises and fractures covered the body... They were not from a beating. They seemed more likely to have come from falling into the water from somewhere high.

“... Aaaah!”

“I should have started by telling you not to scream.”

Grumbling, Eugene let go. The elf opened her eyes, looked back and forth between Eugene and Kristina, then crawled backward across the ground.

“Y-you... you people. Who? Savages?”

“After I went to the trouble of fishing you out, you've got some nerve.”

“S-sorry. I'm sorry.”

He had merely grumbled without much thought, but the elf immediately pressed her head to the ground and begged forgiveness. Kristina stared at her, then glanced at Eugene.

“Your face and manner seem to frighten her, Eugene.”

“What's wrong with my face? I might not be as good-looking as an elf, but I can hold my own anywhere.”

“... Ahaha!”

Kristina laughed openly in derision. Unable to raise her bowed head, the elf clasped her hands and rubbed them together in supplication.

“Yes, yes. Your face is truly magnificent, my lord. You're so handsome that a mere elf could never compare. And y-you are beautiful too, madam.”

“... Madam?”

“I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry. Young lady, you are truly beautiful.”

“What's wrong with her? Is she a little crazy?”

Eugene frowned and muttered. The elf stopped rubbing her hands and repeatedly banged her head against the ground.

“Yes... yes. I'm not right in the head, n-not very bright. So please, even if I act foolishly or say something I shouldn't, forgive me...”

“Try calming her down.”

Eugene immediately retreated behind Kristina. She smiled sweetly and pointed at the basket brimming with wet laundry.

“Member of that beautiful race, my name is Kristina. I am a priest serving the God of Light. The man drying those clothes is my attendant and bodyguard, so please do not be afraid.”

Attendant, his ass. Grumbling, Eugene summoned a wind spirit. The wind it raised began drying the wet clothes.

“We have no intention of threatening or harming you. On the contrary, we will protect you after the misfortune you have suffered.”

“R-really...?”

“Yes, of course. Saving and helping those in distress is a member of the clergy's duty. If there is a Hero in this world, surely he, too, would never hesitate to do what is just and right.”

Kristina glanced at Eugene as she spoke. She was plainly making sure he heard. He snorted as he carelessly folded the clothes, now dried stiff.

“... M-my name... is Narissa.”

She began a tale of woe that no one could hear without tears. In short, Narissa was a runaway slave. Her master was a wealthy man in the Kiel Empire who had bought her on the black market ten years ago.

“How old are you?”

“I'm a hundred and thirty...”

“So you're thirteen in human years.”

“Human years? What is that supposed to mean?”

Kristina turned to Eugene with a bewildered expression.

“Elves live for about a thousand years, right? An ordinary human who stays healthy and lives a long life can reach about a hundred. So if you convert an elf's lifespan to a human's, a hundred years counts as ten.”

“What utter nonsense...”

His logic was so absurd that she could not even laugh at it. Kristina shook her head and muttered, while Narissa clasped her hands with a servile smile.

“Yes... yes. I'm a hundred and thirty in elf years, but thirteen in human years...”

“So where are you from? Were you born in Samar?”

“... My home is Mount Odon in Kiel.”

“Elves live there, too?”

“Not... anymore.”

Narissa could not continue and hung her head. They could guess what had happened without asking. Elves living in hiding deep in the mountains were rare, but such elves being caught by hunters and enslaved was not.

“Ah... you poor thing...”

For the first time in quite a while, Kristina truly looked like a saint. She extended her arms and embraced Narissa, stroking her trembling back.

“How you must have suffered. Cutting off your own foot to escape, and coming all the way to this forest...”

Eugene walked past Kristina. Still cradling Narissa, she glanced at him without saying anything. She gave a slight nod, and Eugene chuckled.

Elves were a hardy race.

Unlike humans, they had an affinity with every kind of spirit and could sense mana without any training. Their muscles were also more supple and powerful than a human's.

Hunters knew the race they were pursuing well and prepared thoroughly before setting out.

The natives living in this forest were no different. They were born hunters and raised as hunters. A lofty cliff, a river below. An ordinary human could not survive. Falling from that height made water as hard as rock.

A human would die.

An elf would not.

It was not because their bodies were tough. Spirit affinity literally meant being loved by spirits. Elves could run so fast because the spirits in the wind pushed them from behind.

The same had happened during this fall. The wind and river had cared for the elf's body. That was why the hunters had not given up the pursuit.

“The Garung tribe, huh.”

Seated on a large rock, Eugene greeted the hunters. He had spent a month in the Great Forest, but he had not simply wandered aimlessly. Several times, he had met merchants crossing the forest, as well as natives from other tribes.

Those had not been particularly pleasant encounters. The merchants had made lewd remarks about Kristina's looks, while the natives had tried to enslave the two foreigners traveling without an escort.

All of them had paid dearly for their idiotic behavior. In the process, Eugene had learned about the forest's many tribes.

The deeper into the forest one went, the more savage and vicious the natives became, and the more hostile they were to outsiders. The Garung were one such tribe.

They captured outsiders and enslaved them.

If their captives were rich people or nobles who had come on a carefree sightseeing trip, they released them for an enormous ransom.

Even that was a lucky outcome. The unlucky were eaten. Several native tribes practiced cannibalism, and the Garung were among them.

“Outsider.”

One of the natives riding the huge wolves spoke. He lifted his mask and stared at Eugene. His face was covered in scars and tattoos.

“What you do. Here?”

Despite his menacing appearance, he could speak the common tongue, though haltingly.

“What does it look like? I'm sitting here resting.”

“Noble? From where?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Smell.”

The native sniffed. Eugene snickered and lifted his cloak.