episode_0067

67.

Thump, thump, thump….

The rhythmic sound of a staff striking the ground gradually approaches the party.

The ground is covered with dark purple, tough plants like grass, making it an unlikely place for such a sound.

It’s easy to guess that this is a warning, an act closer to sending a message. The lack of apparent malice makes it harder to relax, not easier.

The view is obstructed; irregularly spaced trees and plants make it feel cramped.

During those tense few minutes, breathing in the unfamiliar, cold air, I suddenly worry about my exposed cleavage and cover my chest with my arms.

The sound continues, clearly approaching, yet the source remains unseen.

‘Hmm. Perhaps they walk slowly…?’

However, as time passes, the tension lessens. If this is a deliberate tactic, meant to lull them into complacency, then the purpose has been achieved.

Thump.

“The time…of prophecy, draws near.”

The speaker, an old man, is hunched over, his body completely covered, obscuring his appearance.

Hidden by his robe, I can’t sense anything. This complete lack of information is unprecedented, instantly heightening the tension.

“Who are you? Did you send us here, to this place, on behalf of our church?”

I’m not afraid. The Goddess watches over me from behind; I have nothing to fear. Even if I don’t want to, my heart calms. It allows me to view the situation calmly.

“Human, Orc, Elf…. The time of destruction, has come.”

“Hey. Answer my question.”

Aries’s rebuke causes the old man to raise his head. Inside the shadowed hood is complete darkness, an unsettling sight that unnerves me.

“I can’t believe it. But this aura….”

“Do you have any idea?”

Ziben looks like he suspects something, so Asti asks, but Ziben shakes his head.

The old man ignores the party’s expressions, leaning on his wooden staff and continuing to walk.

On closer inspection, he isn’t tapping the staff on the ground, but on something invisible in the air. That’s the source of the thumping sound.

“No closer.”

Clearly sensing the twisted magical currents, Aries, as a mage, breaks out in a cold sweat.

An abnormal flow, impossible in a natural state. It would take at least a hundred or more overlapping spells to create this level of distortion.

Whether a human could do this or not is a secondary concern; the ominous feeling is real. A sensation that is psychologically unbearable.

“What…is the reason…?”

That feeling is perceived by everyone present, even the non-magical among them.

Erina feels the cold, yet a strange warmth causes her heart to flutter slightly.

“Destruction!”

He points his staff at Erina. It’s just a blunt wooden staff, yet it radiates killing intent.

Ziben quietly steps two paces forward, facing the staff.

“Ziben-ssi….”

“Whether words will work, or strength. Let’s find out quickly, shall we?”

“Be careful. I don’t think you can suppress him with force…. No matter how big you are….”

“Aries is right. I feel something incredibly ominous.”

While they prefer a peaceful resolution, dialogue seems impossible. It seems they will be forced into combat.

I don’t sense magic, but my instincts warn of even greater danger.

“It won’t be much help, but I’ve given you a blessing.”

He shows no sign of attacking, yet his mere presence exudes murderous intent.

“I’ll go first.”

Unexpectedly, Asti steps forward, using her elf-like agility to dart in.

“Hey, wait! Where’s your bow?!”, Ziben shouts urgently.

“Seriously? That’s a prejudice! Not all elves are archers!”

From his robes, he produces four slender daggers about the length of a finger, two in each hand.

He expertly throws one from his left hand, deflecting it with one from his right to change its course. He then throws it straight, missing vital areas. The skill borders on a trick shot. A kill shot would have severed a vital point instantly, but a disabling blow is more than enough.

However, the moment the dagger approaches the old man, a barrier of purplish-blue light appears and vaporizes it.

“What…?”

“Then we must try magic.”

Ziben begins to gather magical power with his muscular arms. A simple, but powerful form of pure energy begins to form.

It’s clearly different from usual; the time taken to accumulate magic is far too long.

“You should stop. The flow of magic itself is twisted, making the outcome unpredictable.”

Aries states resolutely. Ziben reluctantly stops gathering magic, and the remaining energy flows towards the old man as if being drawn in.

Yet the old man remains unresponsive. His hands rest on his staff, making no attempt to react.

“But hey, I’m a genius. Infos!”

Casting a physical enhancement spell, Aries pushes past Asti and charges. From his slender frame comes an astonishing burst of acceleration.

A fierce torrent of flames erupts from his fist, but it doesn’t connect. It feels like an invisible wall is pushing him back.

The nature is different from the barrier that destroyed the dagger, but that just means the problem is even bigger.

“Damn it….”

Aries takes three large steps backwards, reaching Erina’s side.

Ziben maintains his calm distance, observing the situation.

“Ziben, can you use Dispel?”

“In theory….”

Dispel, a spell that cancels magic affecting a target, requires considerable mastery of magical flows; it’s practically unusable in practice.

People who use enhancement magic are rare, like Aries. With offensive and defensive magic, magic flows in real-time. For most, only theoretical knowledge is practical.

“I can, too. But we have to try, right?”

Fortunately, the opponent doesn’t seem ready to attack, so the magical flow hasn’t drastically changed.

Even though it’s twisted, peeling back layer by layer will eventually expose the core.

“Dispel!”

The shout is more of a battlecry than a proper incantation.

Basically it involves disrupting magical energy; multiple attempts don’t interfere with each other. This is similar to Ziben’s magic failing to fully gather earlier.

“Ooh….”

Finally, the old man reacts. A raspy, twisted voice, like nails on a chalkboard.

However, that wasn’t what worked; the old man simply felt like talking.

Beyond the still-unseen depths of the black hood, Erina feels a gaze.

“My apologies. It has been so long since I had a proper conversation, now that I look like this.”

A noise intrudes, then, the old man speaks fluently, and removes the mysterious hood.

“No way?! You… you are?”

“Did you already know who I am?”

Ziben nods. It is someone who could never be here, someone whose abilities he couldn’t even believe existed.

The face is familiar, but across it lie the marks of years and the grotesque tumor caused by magical backlash that covers the right side of his forehead.

“The Prophet….”

“He is… the one?”

It seems this old man is the legendary Prophet who wields immense influence over the Orcs.

Erina is speechless; he has a presence unlike anything she expected. It’s not malice, yet it’s something insurmountable.

The ominous foreboding is stronger than she felt when she first saw demons.

“I was called that, once. But none of it matters to me anymore.”

“What… happened to you?”

“I lifted the veil of the future, and for seeing what lay beyond, I received this curse.”

Erina, too, has seen the future. A distant, far-off future overwhelmed by magic and reduced to ruins.

“The time of prophecy is at hand! The time of destruction! It will come because of you…!”, he cries, pointing at Erina.

“I don’t think he understands. Is he the same as you remember?”

“No, he’s not. Just from the aura, he was far more composed and proper than Erina.”

Ziben sadly shakes his head. Whatever caused this transformation must have been horrific beyond comprehension.

“Wait, is that…?”

Aries points urgently at the object the old man slowly takes from his robes.

The movements are slow and languid, but the distorted magic makes them seem strange.

It is a familiar object, something Erina has seen lately.

“A… a statue of the Goddess?”

Around the statue, a lilac wave spreads outward, exuding an aura of ill omen.

“I have no right to judge…. But I will do what must be done….”

The layers of overlapping magic surrounding the prophet spread like the lilac wave, and engulfs Erina and everyone.

Finally, the prophet collapses, seemingly spent.

“Wh… what happened?”

“I don’t know. The flow of magic… is the same.”

Ziben rushes to check the prophet’s breathing, but is halted by the invisible barrier.

“What’s going on…. My head hurts.”

“We can’t just… go back, can we? The whole building….”

Boooooooooom―

A massive horn blast suddenly assaults their eardrums.

Before her mind can process the disarray, a powerful sensation freezes her thoughts.

“……It’s magic! Demons are approaching!”

“What?? Suddenly?”

“If only we can attack them, then there’s no problem!”

“I’ll just go back to the room and resupply weapons.”

Erina lets out a soft sigh.

“Everyone, stay calm. First, I’ll heal you all.”

It would be much easier to deal with unspeaking demons. First, she tells Asti to inform the others inside, and gets ready.

This is the perfect time for sacred power to shine.