Ch.79Monster (5)

The bright sky darkened once more, and only after I had collected my weapons scattered throughout the forest did the leader of the hunters awaken.

His face had that characteristic dazed expression of someone on the verge of death. A face I had seen several times before.

The face of the defeated ones I had encountered while wandering through the forest, those I had personally finished off.

Life flares brightly just before it’s extinguished. What do they call it? The final radiance before death. I recalled an expression I had once seen in a martial arts webtoon.

This hunter was the same. Even as he was dying, he looked at me with remarkably clear eyes.

“…Did I lose?”

“Yes.”

He quietly blinked. His eyes, which closed deeply before opening again, were the same grayish-blue as Isela’s.

The emotion in those eyes wasn’t one of surprise.

“Did everyone fight well?”

“…Yes.”

Having let go of everything, he seemed at ease. Perhaps knowing he was about to die, he lay gently on the ground with his broken back.

“That’s good. We’ll be fine for a while.”

His attitude reminded me of Isela. I stood quietly before him, just watching.

A dying shapeshifter. A snow leopard shapeshifter at that.

Though it was clearly my doing, I felt strangely bad about it. There was no need to question why.

Quietly, behind me, hands clutching my cloak. Hands that had moved unconsciously but, once realized, could not be withdrawn.

Beautiful, snow-white hands. Hands with calluses from some repetitive work.

Isela’s hands. Feeling Isela’s presence, I looked down at the man.

“…Who sent you?”

“You already know.”

“I have two guesses.”

“The Three Clans.”

Just as I thought. I quietly looked at the bow in my hand while thinking.

It was a bow formed of light.

[Morning Sun]

[“Every morning when the sun rises, the hunter gathers light to make arrows.”

-From a northern oral tradition, part of “The Hunter Who Shot the Sun.”

This bow is a magical weapon inspired by an oral tradition. Arrows form from light when the string is drawn, and these arrows have substance that can cleave prey in two. Glowing blue like the northern sunlight, this masterpiece is for those who are worthy.]

[Forms magical light arrows when attacking.

Light arrows travel in a straight line and have longer range than regular arrows, but cannot be used with skills based on curved shots.

Any shooting action is considered a magical attack and adds 2 points to hit rolls and damage rolls.]

Anyone could see it was an exceptional item. A bow that looked as if it had been crafted from light itself.

It wasn’t the kind of thing I would typically use. I lowered the bow and met the eyes of the man who was staring at me intently.

“It’s not from the clan. Use it.”

“Can I give it to someone else?”

“Of course. How could the defeated claim any rights?”

The hunter let out a chuckle and coughed up blood where he lay. His gaze had already shifted from me to Isela behind me.

“I have something to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you know Isela?”

“Of course I do.”

Then the hunter fell silent. His expression suggested I should ask her directly.

I could have done that, but instead, I deliberately reached back to hold Isela’s hand as I spoke.

“You seemed uncomfortable. I thought you might not need to hear it directly.”

Isela felt guilty and uncomfortable about these people’s existence.

From her initial reaction when they appeared to how she was acting now.

Though she worried I might think she had betrayed me, she didn’t leave my side, so I trusted her.

But trust didn’t mean I couldn’t ask questions.

That’s why I chose this approach. The hunter seemed to notice. He smiled faintly and said:

“You’ve found a good husband.”

I felt somehow validated. As I awkwardly scratched my head, he lowered his eyes with a smile.

“We are hunters. Nomads who stayed at the edge of the tribal alliance… in the north.”

When I remained silent, he searched his memories.

“You would call us shapeshifters, but we at least considered ourselves hunters. For a long time.”

He smiled as he recalled.

“Until the Empire pushed in. We had no choice.”

That’s what he said.

After that, they had only two choices left.

“Either swear loyalty to the Three Clans who extended their hands to us, or flee.”

“Then…”

I could guess the rest without hearing it.

Isela chose to flee and came to the new continent where the Empire’s surveillance couldn’t reach. Could it be that the monster treatment she experienced on that journey made her consider herself a monster?

That’s what I thought, but it was a bit different from what I expected.

“The tribe split into a minority who fled and a majority who submitted. And… the leader of those who submitted was Selma.”

Selma. As I stiffened at the unfamiliar name, he said:

“She’s Isela’s twin sister.”

“Isela’s?”

The man didn’t answer. I opened my mouth, thinking “surely not…”

“Then was Isela the leader of those who fled?”

“No, those who fled had no leader. They were too few and each ran away on their own.”

I closed my mouth at his next words.

I had no choice but to.

“They all died. Selma killed them. Something she received from the Three Clans changed her, and she needed ‘tribe members from when we were at our purest.'”

Selma, Isela’s twin sister and the current tribal chief. I widened my eyes at the atrocities committed by someone with this unfamiliar name.

“Selma is looking for you, Isela.”

The man said with his dying breath.

“She will come for you.”

*

The “Luvellin Subjugation” ended in failure.

I couldn’t exactly call it a victory, but I felt somewhat relieved.

I could cleanly erase the worries I had been harboring inside, and I had a sense of how to conduct myself going forward.

But separately, my questions had also increased. Naturally, the things I needed to do had grown as well.

Collecting the blue minerals related to the teleporter.

Deciding how to deal with the people of the underground city.

But now there was one more thing.

Unlike the others, it was something I couldn’t postpone, nor did I want to.

“She’s my sister.”

It was right after we left. On the way back, retracing the path to the Temple of All Gods.

Isela spoke from behind me. Her tail drooped, brushing against the ground.

She was fidgeting with the light bow I had given her, trying to calm her anxiety.

“By sister… you mean your actual sister?”

“Yes.”

Lorian asked, and Isela answered. Despite being exhausted and dragging his executioner’s sword along the ground, Lorian was trying hard to walk steadily.

“He said she was your twin sister.”

“…Twin.”

The Mourner responded meaningfully.

He lowered his eyes, full of regret.

Does he have some connection to twins?

I remember hearing he had children, but I don’t recall hearing they were twins.

Is there some other reason?

While I was thinking, Isela finally gathered her courage.

“She was the best hunter in the tribe.”

“And you?”

“Second best. I was better with the bow, but… my sister was good with bows, axes, and spears.”

So, a close and ranged combat all-rounder hunter? A few builds came to mind.

Usually, being a jack of all trades means being mediocre at everything, but this isn’t a game.

Things don’t work exactly like in games; there are variations in individual talent and utility.

I tried to form a mental image of this person called Selma as I walked toward the Temple of All Gods.

I was tired. Mentally. But it was too early to rest, and there were many ways to overcome mental fatigue.

I paid attention to Isela’s words.

“I thought we should live by our own strength.”

“And your sister?”

“She thought we should borrow power even from monsters. Since we were monsters to the Empire anyway.”

“Hmm.”

Was the listening monster uncomfortable? Lorian cleared his throat, but Isela didn’t mind.

Or rather, she couldn’t mind.

Isela had been unable to get her sister out of her mind since earlier.

“Do you know anything?”

“Well… It wasn’t something done by the Blood Clan. No, I’m not sure. As with Lord Hertol… someone might have been controlled.”

Lorian knew absolutely nothing. This pretty waste of space.

“It’s probably the shapeshifters. If Isela’s entire tribe were shapeshifters, then the shapeshifters would have taken interest. I’m not sure exactly what happened, though.”

Lorian finally squeezed out something when I gave her a stern look. She smoothed down her prosthetic arm.

The reddish-black prosthetic had served its purpose even in that fierce battle.

It was an object that clearly demonstrated the clan’s technology. Like the dungeon, and like that prosthetic.

The Three Clans were unparalleled when it came to technology.

Perhaps that’s why I could accept what the hunter leader had said about “Selma’s transformation.”

Partly because I’d never met her, but also because I could roughly guess what had happened.

“She’ll definitely come.”

The monster label that the Empire had used as an excuse had now become reality.

The baptism of the Three Clans… if that’s what you’d call it.

A monster that hunts down and devours former tribe members who haven’t received this baptism, in order to grow.

Now that monster was targeting Isela. The problem was that we didn’t know exactly what it intended to do, or what it was capable of.

I needed advice. It probably wouldn’t come immediately, but it wouldn’t be strange if it came anytime.

And if I were to seek advice about the Three Clans, there was one person most suitable.

Though I’m not sure if “person” is the right word.

We entered the Temple of All Gods as night fell, with barely any signs of people around.

The sentries were there in name only, and even they were standing watch more out of habit due to insomnia. The sentry merely nodded slightly as we passed by.

“What will you do, old man?”

“I’ll wait. My legs are aching from running and walking all day.”

As the aged and tired Mourner headed to his tent, I took only Isela and Lorian with me to the elevator and walked to the teleporter.

It took only a moment to activate the teleporter and move. Some qualification given only to me and those friendly to me allowed us to cross space.

Something I could make my own if I obtained the blue minerals in the underground city.

I should figure out what to do about that while visiting the city.

First, I needed to ask questions, let those who needed rest do so, and handle the rest myself.

That’s what I was thinking when it happened.

We were in a place other than the warehouse.

A space that was becoming familiar to me.

A place with the typical atmosphere of a research lab, where a subtle order existed amid the mess.

“Ah, you’re here?”

There, we saw a small girl soaking in a bathtub.

“Judging by your appearance, the subjugation must have failed. That’s good. Congratulations.”

The girl stretched her legs, splashing water, and made no effort to hide her exposed body, showing no signs of embarrassment.

A little brat with jade-colored hair, horns, and a long jade-scaled tail that swished about.

I stared blankly at Ortemilia enjoying her half-bath, then slowly turned my head.

Not to Isela, who seemed flustered, but to Lorian, who was looking at the alchemist impassively.

As our eyes met, Lorian blinked and tilted her head, and I felt a question burst from my lips that I couldn’t suppress.

“Don’t you have any sense of shame?”

And these monsters who knew no shame did not understand my words.

I gave up trying to explain and sighed.