The midday sun streamed brilliantly through the crystal-clear windows, casting a warm glow across the room. Though it was just a few hours past noon, the two young men had strategically chosen seats by the window in the bustling mercenary bar. The vibrant golden rays of sunlight dissuaded others from occupying those spots, making it the perfect setting for the two soon-to-be inebriated friends to while away the day with their drinks.
"Da-... bone-... Sword….-"
So the man, with his mug half full of mead still in his right hand, aimlessly stared towards the sky. As if stargazing the unseen celestials, his eyes had lost focus, seemingly from the amount of booze he had been handling.
"I-... laugh-... dude-..."
His partner couldn't contain his amusement and struggled to suppress his laughter. Moments ago, they were conversing. The intoxicated man had been babbling on with his story while his partner discreetly listened, trying not to make a sound. However, as they continued, the listener couldn't help but burst into laughter, causing the drunk man to fumble and drop his bear cublet, spilling its contents across the table and onto the floor. The robust tankard clattered against the wooden surface, rebounding off the nearby metal support with a sharp clang.
"Rude-?... On-... right?"
His partner inched closer. He knew how drunk his friend was, but it didn't seem normal. As his slurs began to blur his past details, his friend remained fully aware of his surroundings. He'd seen him much more drunker than now; he had never made such a mistake. His hand coordination just didn't deteriorate with the presence of spirits.
"He-... -otten.. -ou?"
But the drunken man didn't answer. As if the bright sun had moved his heart, he couldn't stare away for even a second lest the epiphany escape his mind.
It was then he realized his friend was not just drunk.
Taking a closer look, he then saw his eyes were bloodshot red. His face looked pale but not too severe, yet his lips were dark purple as if the blood had drained from them, leaving only the deoxidized blood. His breathing was rhythmic yet sounded so fragile, as if the slightest breeze would choke him to death. His arms were trembling. His thick mage robes covered every inch of his body, yet his body shivered as though it was thrown into the middle of a frigid winter.
And most notably, his hair, the vibrant strands of light brown hair, had strands shifting to light silver.
"Ru-"
He shooked his companion on the shoulder.
"Rude-!"
He shook him once more.
"RUDEUS!"
"Uh, huh?" The drunken man, Rudeus, replied.
The helmeted man had resorted to shouting right in his ear, only to get a reaction now. It broke Rudeus away from whatever daze he was experiencing. His eyes regained focus as he turned to look at the helmeted man, undisturbed that his ears were violated. No, it was as if the man's shouting seemed silent to Rudeus.
"Al? Why…. How are you… How am I…"
'Alive?'
He knitted his brows. The scene in front of him was too confusing. Wasn't he somewhere days away from the capital? How was he drinking in a pub in what seemed like the capital? Why was he drinking merrily when he was sure he had been on a critical mission?
'No… what was I even doing before?'
It was just too strange for the young adult to understand.
Al looked down at his chest, perplexed. He clenched his only hand to his chest, examining whatever was inside him. Or rather, the lack of something should have been with him.
"What? How did that…" He mumbled under his breath.
It was too quiet for anyone else to hear, but within the confines of his metal helm, his words echoed louder and louder, as if taunting him more than the phantom pain of his missing limb. But when he looked up and saw Rudeus just as befuddled as he was, he suddenly realized what had happened.
"Damn, so you too, huh?" He mumbled under his breath once more.
With a deep sigh, he held his arm over Rudeus and inched closer.
"Do you need my help?" Al asked.
The usually playful tone Al used was wholly gone. Devoid of joy, his words were punctuated with strength Rudeus never expected from his brother of origin. As if a switch had flipped in Al's head, he was now the cunning warrior gladiator that served his master, not the festive drinking friend Rudeus appreciated.
"Help? Uh, no...?" Rudeus replied.
'What did he mean by help? Why do I need his help? I think I was getting drinks with him. Did he ask if I needed help to get to the toilet?'
Al just chuckled inwardly. It seemed as if Rudeus' reply was just as he expected. "It can't be helped," he seemed to mumble.
"So, first time, eh?" Al asked.
It seemed as if he returned to his usual self. His last question was as much of a joke as it was a warning. But his tone returned to Al's usual banter. At least that was clear enough.
"I'm sorry, Al… I don't know what's going on," Rudeus honestly answered.
He looked a lot better than before. His complexion returned to his tanned skin color. His lips returned to vibrant pink as the blood flow resumed. His body stopped trembling, realizing the pub was a warm 27 degrees with the indoor fireplace. And his eyes were still a bit lost, though only slightly. Outside of his sudden hair change, he looked fairly normal, all things considered.
"Rudeus, just remember," Al spoke.
He placed his only remaining hand on his shoulders once more. Al continued looking directly into his eyes as if staring straight through his soul.
"Never give up. It's not worth it."
"Ha…."
A few hours had passed since Al parted with Rudeus. After his sudden spout of delirium, he offered to walk Rudeus home. Rudeus was in no condition to continue drinking. His skin was pale, and he repeatedly asked about the date and time. Al kept his silence. He didn't try to correct his thoughts or add to them. He knew more than anyone how confusing time was, after all.
Inside one of the empty bedrooms at the Priscilla mansion, Al sat on the bed on the office chair. He visited this room often whenever he found the time to do so. No one occupied it, per se, but it held a significant meaning to him. So much so that it was the only time Priscilla didn't dare disturb him.
After all, this was one of the few places he took off his helmet.
Not that he took too much time staying there. He knew why he was working with Priscilla and what his contract with her meant. He was at her mercy for now. As much as he grew to tolerate the woman, even admire her sometimes, he knew their relationship was strictly formal. Well, as business-like as you can get working under the sun.
"I never expected to meet another like me," he mumbled, not speaking to anyone.
"Do you think I should have helped him? I can't imagine what he's going through right now. No, I can. Yet…" he continued.
No one responded to his ramblings. Alone in the confines of the small resident bedroom, Al closed his eyes, relaxing his entire body over the wooden desk chair. The pale green ceiling was the same as usual, but he couldn't take his eyes off it for some reason. It was as if he didn't have the right to do so.
"Yeah, you're right. I really should be more confident in myself. You always rambled on about that whenever we were alone…" Al chuckled.
The sound of his chair dragging along the floor as he got up broke the empty silence of the room. But just before he reached the door, he peered backward and spoke one last time to an empty listener in the room.
"Salvation from others is no blessing but a curse. That's what you told me, right?"
With his final words, he left the room to its quietness, leaving the unheard voice he had desperately wanted to listen to for years.
"You look so off today. Did something happen to nya?"
Rudeus had returned to the Karsten manner and mostly stayed in his room. He looked even worse than his morning self. Somehow, his hair had changed color, a phenomenon unheard of to both the helmeted knight and healer. While Felix had examined his body and interrogated the helmeted mercenary, he could not find anything wrong with the man physically. That only left his mind as the cause, but mental fortitude wasn't Felix's specialty.
"Uh… yeah. I'm just a bit out of it. Everything just seems so surreal right now." Rudeus replied.
The moment he returned to the mansion, he stripped down to his bare skin and examined every inch of his body for bruises, cuts, or injuries. If his delirious visions were true, there must be some sign of battle on his body somewhere. One just doesn't shrug off a hit to the chest that hard, not to mention the lasting effect of hypothermia.
But no matter how much he touched, squeezed, and punched his body, he couldn't see a single new blemish. The only notable scare was the circular lump of scar tissue on his chest, but that was from his encounter with the dragon god. His rib bones seemed fine and straight, his arms moved freely without issue, and his legs were straight with no muscle loss. That much ruled out the possibility of an amnesiac coma.
It was only after confirming the time and seeing a well and alive Rem working with the house staff that he finally calmed down. With the evidence in hand, it seemed natural to conclude that whatever he saw was just a messed up subconscious image he fabricated. Just like the imaginary scenarios, he'd dream of from his life on earth.
'But does that mean I really want to kill myself that badly? Am I suicidal? That can't be what living seriously means…'
"Hey, Felix. Do people get visions of the future often?" He suddenly asked.
"Hmm? What brought this up, nya?"
"It's nothing. Just popped up in my mind."
"Well, I've seen people with visions from Od Lagna before, but nyathing of true future sight. I haven't heard of a Divine Protection of the sort, at least," he replied, rubbing his finger to his forehead as if mesmerized.
'Then, did I just imagine something so horrible? This has to be some mental illness…'
If Rudeus had been a medical student, he'd be self-diagnosing himself with Lewy Body Dementia and frantically begin testing his cerebrospinal fluid and SPECT scans of his brain. For better or worse, he did not have the faintest clue of such illnesses, so the only conclusion he could make was.
'Am I a sadist?'
"Well, well, Rudeus-kyun, I have nyo clue why you feel so down, but I have just the thing to help your spirits!" Felix proclaimed.
He thrashed inside his cloak pocket. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for. He proudly presented the contents of this magical item that would lift the delirious Rudeus back to his feet. In his palm was a dried Boko fruit glistening under the indoor light.
"Hmm..!" Rudeus gulped.
His eyes widened as his lips slimmed to a line. A wave of deja vu hit him like the truck starting this journey. He was taken aback at the distinctly familiar date-like fruit in the cat boy's hands. The color, the size, even the succinct valleys looked too identical to the one he had in his so-called visions.
Taking the outstretched hand to his own, he picked up the magical dried date. He couldn't shake off the ominous feeling welling in his stomach. There were no future sight abilities in this world. There were no such Divine Protections that would allow him to see the accurate future. It wasn't possible for Rudeus to dream of a real future scenario and predict the future. But yet, he couldn't stop thinking about his near-death experience.
And subconsciously, he was suppressing his actual-death experience to the corners of his mind.
"Boko-fruit?" Rudeus asked, holding the dried sweet in his hand.
"Yep! It helps with nyar recovery! One bite and you'll feel the strength of a thousand kittens!"'
Slowly, as if pealing the wrap of a lollipop, he unfurled this tightly gripped hand and moved it towards his shut mouth. Closer and closer, the Boko fruit approached and finally reached the top of his lips.
But before he could bite the succulent fruit, the supposed cure to all but poison in mind, he stopped and snatched it in his inner pocket.
"Thanks… I'll have it later when I feel even worse," Rudeus said, barely containing his clattering teeth.
"Hmmm? That's nyo fun. Nyo're the type of player to hold all your consumables to the end, right?" Felix teased.
'Well, that isn't too far off. I did tend to hold the consumables for most of the gacha games I had. But that was only to level up my characters to SSR!'
"That makes it sixteen to one."
It was early morning the next day.
What would have been his typical morning routine had been replaced with the devil. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, Wilhelm chided the young man to another bout. The past few spars the two had were a bit later in the day, but today, the two began much earlier than usual. Yet today, Rueus could not shake off the chronic heaviness he had felt ever since his abrupt departure with Al yesterday.
He lay down on the ground defeated, all four limbs sprayed like a snow angel–or a grass angel, in this instance. He was, by all means, dead. Too tired to stand up and face the retired Sword Devil. But his mind had also spun in circles the moment he woke up. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember a thing about today.
'I didn't take the Boko fruit yesterday… so is this some new cut scene I'm experiencing? Was that the route selection?'
It was a strange conclusion to arrive at. When vague memories of a near future haunted your every move and in your pocket as proof of the future coming true, what was that vision? Had he seen the future? He could not know. No, it was more so he did not want to know. But what was more fearful? To know your next move would be certain death, or to run unthinkingly with no end in sight? Because right now, he realized, was a day he had no vision to fill in.
He'd thought about his visions in his sleep. He'd scoured the local library in search of such an ability. But no matter how much he looked, they all came to the same conclusion. The future sight was a concept for stories, not reality. As hard as it was to come to terms with it, he had to admit that a ridiculous future was inconceivable.
"You are much slower than before. Has your treatment been weighing on you?" The butler asked.
"No, I just have a lot on my mind, but I don't think I did that poorly," he replied, still on his back.
His pearl-green eyes seemed empty as they looked back at the moist morning sky. Wilhelm studied them carefully as he cleaned up the fallen wooden swords. He could see the man had already exhausted himself and wouldn't continue.
"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll be incorrect, but if I may…" Wilhelm quietly asked.
Whatever he wanted to say must have been difficult. He tried to continue but found himself eating his words over and over. He traced back on what exactly it was he wanted to say. No, it was more so what he wanted to say to his younger self. Rudeus, of course, had no clue of knowing but lay still waiting. For better or for worse, he was very patient and tolerant, especially for an adventurer.
"Don't grow to regret what could have been. If something must be done, do it now," his firm words lamented.
His tone had not changed, nor had his facial expressions shown anything but the epitome of a stalwart poker face. Yet it seemed as if those words came from the heart and experience.
"Do it now… you say," Rudeus mouthed back.
The memories from yesterday. The future that could become the missing memories of today was all too suspicious to leave at the hands of fate. If he were to live life seriously and knew of even the slightest possibility of catastrophe, even as ridiculous as it seemed, would it be right to wave it off? Could he ignore it and live on?
'Could I even face Ruijerd if I did that?'
"Yeah, you're right," he called out.
He stood up, dusting his dirted works shirt behind him. Collecting his bearings, he walked towards the butler, who hadn't broken a sweat.
"Then Wilhelm, I request an audience with the Dutchess, Karsten-sama. The Emilia camp requires your aid."
His eyes glistened under the morning sun, yet their hue seemed muted to the butler, nodding at his guest's request.
"And that's why I'm formally asking for assistance to evacuate Arlem village and eradicate the invading Witch cult."
The hour was right before noon. Lunch preparations were busy on the lower levels, while the master of the mansion and its guests were busy in the main conference room. Its contents: a temporary alliance between the Emilia and Crusch camps.
"And you are certain they will invade in three days?" Crusch asked.
The Duchess was understanding when she first heard word from Wilhelm. "Finally," she mumbled at the time as if she had expected something similar. That did not prepare for the sudden shift in their negotiation. The man had spent his time locked within the confines of the mansion. Yet, out of the blue, he brings detailed information of a hostile takeover by the Witch Cult. And as far as she knew, it was all the truth.
"There may have- no. There may be smaller skirmishes before that, but the main invasion should start around that time," Rudeus confirmed.
It sounded ridiculous to the Duchess. How could a man gather intel about the Witch Cult in a mere few hours of drinking at a mercenary pub? His time with Al was the only possible explanation for the time frame of this information. But if it were that simple, she was sure her information network would have picked up on the matter. She had heard of reports from her sources about Witch Cult activity around the Mather's domain and warned the Margrave of a future attack, yet this was too soon. She anticipated another two to three months before they made their move, at the minimum.
Or, was it as simple as Priscilla's knight, Al, tricking him with false information? But if so, why would he need to hide such information?
"That is… hard to believe. I've had reports of their activities behind the scenes, but an attack this early is unheard of," Crusch spoke, still skeptical of Rudeus' claims.
As the two continued with the details of the supposed invasion, one person in particular had been silent the entire time.
While Felix and Wilhelm spoke up as the Duchess's advisors, Rem, the blue-haired maid of the Roswaal estate, had remained silent the entire time. She wasn't exactly calm, however. While Rudeus was too busy relaying the details to take a glance, Crusch, Felix, and Wilhelm had been facing the girl. The three took notice of every minute detail in her behavior, from her initial reserved nature to the starting shock at Rudeus' reveal, the absolute look of horror at the detail of Rudeus's recollections, and finally, doubt at how ridiculously convenient the whole story was.
She had played the role of a lie detector, not that it would be helpful in the negotiation. Though, one thing was sure. This was not some coordinated attempt from the Emilia camp. This proposition was an impromptu unilateral decision made solely by Rudeus himself.
Then, the decision was clear.
"If that is the case, the house of Karsten will not aid in your quest," she announced, not to the shock of both Felix and Wilhelm.
But to Rudeus, who saw the Duchess as a woman of character who couldn't look away from unjust civilian casualties, her words hit harder than the truck that started it all.
"What… what is that supposed to mean?" he prodded, biting his lips to contain his sudden shock.
"There's nothing to be mistaken. I will not be lending aid to the Emilia faction. The Mather's domain is beyond my jurisdiction. I do not need to extend my hand that far," she rebuked.
"But…" he whispered.
His fists clenched at her cold words, not a hint of compassion within them. The queen of war shook not as she shot down any attempt to gain favor. When he looked up to Wilhelm and Felix for support, they merely averted their gaze. His brows furrowed as he realized the two could not help him.
"I understand what I'm saying sounds ridiculous. I wouldn't be in this position if I weren't sure, but the Witch Cult will attack and kill everyone in the village. If we don't act now, their blood will be on our hands for not act-"
"That's enough," Cursch spoke, cutting him off.
It was the voice of a stern leader that came from her lips. She did not look away or seem bothered at the mention of civilian casualties. No, she wasn't just staring back. She was glaring. Her eyes shot daggers, a visual embodiment of the intense force within her. Her target, the man shivering in his fear before her.
"You seem to mistake me, Rudeus. I am the Dutchess Crusch Karsten. You are negotiating with the Karsten family on behalf of your master. One, you have nothing to give. If you planned to guilt me with the burden of civilians, not under my rule, that failed when you entered this room. I have no gallantry to protect them in their master's stead," Crusch stated, her voice composed and resolute, underscoring her status and authority.
"No gallantry? But you can't just ignore them! They really will die. If you know disaster will strike, and you can stop it, it should be natural to try and help!" Rudeus passionately argued.
As if annoyed at his rebuke, her dagger-like eyes tightened further. The rest of her face had no change. She did not make it apparent but was becoming annoyed at the magician's protest.
"Then you are mistaken once more. I may have greeted you as a guest and patient for the Mather family, but that is as far as our alliance will go. The moment you step out of these bounds, you will be my enemy, an obstacle I must surpass to claim the throne. I do not need to care for another's subjects in place of their incompetent leaders. And besides…" she continued before pausing.
Crusch brought both hands beneath her chin. Crossing her fingers with each other, she leaned towards the boy as if to rest her chin on her crossed hands. Covering the tip of her lips with her index fingers, she didn't dare break eye contact with the boy before finishing her words.
"You may speak the truth, but you have yet to tell me your sources. Even if you were to persuade me to help you, I cannot blindly follow your word without proof of the cult's involvement," the Duchess said.
Those inquiring words struck deeper than he expected. Beads of sweat dribbled as he scrambled to find a believable explanation. But how could he explain how he knew if he didn't understand to begin with?
"That's…" he merely mumbled.
His memories, or visions, started at what would be the next day. Rem would receive a clairvoyant message, marking the start of the invasion force. After a day of travel, they'd reach a burning village and the crazed madman behind it all. But he had died in those memories. Death was about the only constant memory he could remember. The sense of his very soul fading into the void of nothingness. The feeling of his breath deafening. The horror of his very limbs losing sense. The sounds of the world drowning, as if the whole weight of the world was pushing him down the ground.
As little as he could remember the exact circumstances of his death, he could remember vividly just how disgusting that feeling was. After all, it was something he had been accustomed to. This would only be his third time so far.
"I… I saw it for myself," he managed to mutter.
"You… saw this invasion?" Crusch seriously questioned.
As if fully believing the man's words but still doubting their validity, she questioned further at Rudeus' ridiculous response. Rudeus, too, understood how ridiculous it would be to claim to see future events, but that was all he could think of. After all, it wasn't necessarily a lie.
"Yes. I saw it. I saw the burning village. The corpses on the ground. The Cultists with their daggers. The mansion covered in blood. I saw it!" He shouted hysterically.
As if just mentioning the horrors had returned him to the forest of nightmares, Rudeus couldn't control his sudden outburst and spoke out of turn. His teeth clattered as he remembered the sight of Rem and Ram's corpses suspended mid-air. He threw those memories to the corner of his mind, but even the slightest reminder shook him.
"I saw it all, and then I die-" he continued.
Or so he thought. As if the world had responded to his presence the moment he spoke, he found it impossible to continue. His mouth wouldn't move. No, it wasn't that he couldn't move. He couldn't even feel that his mouth was moving.
"...?"
Every thought, every sight, every smell, every touch, every sound, every movement, all had vanished into the void—his vision filled with only the void of nothingness. He couldn't hear. No, he couldn't even feel anyone around him. Even the very couch he was sitting on or the floor he was on had magically vanished. He struggled even to feel anything, something. He then realized he couldn't even breathe.
"...!"
There was nothing he could do as there was nothing at all. Only his very existence seemed constant as the universe around him faded away. Despite his thoughts seemingly vanishing under the cold vacuum of existence, he could only be in an undefined world.
"!...!?"
No. He was familiar with this as well. It was the dreading consequence of life. The very feeling he felt when the soul left the body. Only, it would be an instant when one died, but now, he'd had to endure an instant of eternity.
And then, after the eternal second had fated, the world reconstructed anew as his senses returned, uncaring to the sensational input backlash he had to endure.
"HAAaa-" he shouted.
He clenched his chest, and he fell to the ground. He was on his knees, gasping for air. As one had gripped his chest, feeling the rapidly beating heart, the other hand patted his face as if to confirm the validity of his existence.
"Rudeus-kyun, what happened!" Felix shouted.
He instantly dropped down to his side and began his healing magic. He sensed no magical tampering between the instant he spoke to the next. The sudden shift was not typical. As a medical professional, he could tell this was no ordinary disease. As his instincts told him, he began his scans, starting with his brain. But no matter how finely he combed his body, Felix could not find anything that could have caused this mess.
"Rudeus-kyun, just breathe. I don't know what that reminded you, but you're completely fine. You're with Crusch-sama. You're safe here," Felix said, helping Rudeus to stand back on his feet.
His magic, while impromptu, had shown no signs of physical tampering. As hard as it was to believe, he could only determine the cause was mental. A branch of medicine he wasn't too accustomed to. So, all he could do to help his patient was to help him calm down. He was under the protection of the War Valkieire Crusch Karsten herself. Nobody would dare hurt him under her roof. That was all the doctor could think of to comfort the man.
As Felix helped him get back on his feet, Crusch ordered the other servants to prepare a room for Rudeus. He was in no condition to continue. Wilhelm acted first as he immediately left the conference room. However, Rem, the one person on the same side of the negotiations, stood utterly still. No, she was facing the Duchess behind Rudeus during the negotiation. No matter Rudeus' ridiculous words, she dared not move an inch from her position.
That had changed the moment he fell to the ground. But instead of helping Rudeus to his feet, she just looked down at the man. As if looking down at an abhorrent insect, she sneered down at the man without a blink. She breathed heavily, her right hand instinctively reaching under her skirt pocket. She only stopped when Felix reminded Rudeus that he was under the roof of the Karstens. The scent of that night raged within the room, but she'd never be able to protect her sister had she lashed out at this moment.
With controlled breaths, she continued to eye the young man, collecting his bearing, not even hiding the disgust she now felt towards him.
"Are you doing fine, Rudeus-sama?"
A chilling voice greeted him as he woke up. He presumed he was on a dragon carriage from the rattles and constant bumps. But to where and with whom, he could not remember.
"Ah, I'm fine. Is that you, Rem?" he asked incredulously.
He looked around the carriage. It was different from the one he rode on his way to the capital, nor was it the one from his vision. The canvas coverings were cut, revealing the bright moon shining above. From the glimpse he saw, he presumed it was around midnight. The carriage itself was in no better condition. Dust and straw covered the floors. Someone had clearly neglected its care for some time. The rattling wheels sounded like the mechanical grindings of gears. It was not smooth but bumpy, perhaps from the partially rotten wheels.
"Yes, that is good. We are headed to the Roswaal mansion. You may rest for now," she continued.
As he sat down on the dirty flooring, he could guess why they were returning. His memory was a bit hazy, but he was sure he talked with the Duchess to gain aid. Then, was this their march towards the Mather's estate?
"Rem, where's Crusch-sama? Is it just us returning home?" he asked.
"Yes, Crusch-sama asked us to scout ahead and offered the carriage. She will be joining once her army has gathered," she replied.
"Didn't the Duchess deny our request? What made her change her mind?" he asked back.
After a few seconds of silence, the girl replied back, not looking back at the young mage.
"Crusch-sama requested to talk to our camp's representative. Roswaal-sama had asked I create a union between the camps. I used that authority to speak in Roswaal-sama's stead."
"Huh, I didn't know he asked you to do that…"
However, his eyes couldn't leave the sorry state of the so-called "borrowed Karsten carriage.". It was too shabby to be a noble's coach. Honestly, with how it sounded, it was a miracle it managed to stay in one piece.
'And what's with Rem all of a sudden? We weren't close, but she never talked this distantly before. No... she must be just worried about her sister.'
And so, leaving the reigns to his colleague, he lay down on the dusty wagon to conserve his strength. They were marching to enemy territory. Staying awake would only fatigue him more. The dust never bothered him anyway as an adventurer.
Another hour had passed as he flipped between his sleep. He couldn't fall utterly asleep from the constant rattling but didn't want to anyway. If his traveling as an adventurer ever taught him anything, he was to be prepared for anything, especially during long commutes. You never knew what you might meet on the road, and it was considerably more challenging to fight with pounds of gear on your back.
'Hmm? Are we stopping?'
The carriage slowed down to a stop. He didn't realize it initially, but Rem seemed to have taken special care to slow down as slowly as possible.
'I guess she didn't want to wake me.'
Even with her cold demeanor, it seemed that she still cared for her colleague. That fact made Rudeus just a bit happier. Perhaps his efforts to live life seriously were starting to bore fruit.
'Woah, that's one huge tree. It's wild how that thing is just chilling out in the middle of nowhere. What did they call it? The Flugel tree? Sounds cool too!'
He was enthralled as he looked up at the great Flugel tree through the ripped canvas ceiling. Grand mythical trees were a staple in most fantasy stories. While his old world was one such world, he had never seen such mythics in his travels. The great forest was a trove of grand trees and bushes but nothing of this scale. It was particularly fascinating when considering its bizarre location. It really seemed like it appeared out of nowhere.
'Or artificially planted by "Flugel" whoever that is. How could someone plant something so long ago yet have absolutely nothing about himself recorded?'
He sat there, pondering the tree through the ripped grey sky. As he did, he could have sworn he heard something. The sound of a familiar jingle and chains clanging from behind the canvas walls. The echoing sound quieted down, only leaving the crickets of the bugs along the field. And with the fleeting sounds of nature, a chilling sense of the pure desire to kill tingled his spine.
"Heh!"
As if to answer his six senses, the jingling sound of death hurled towards him. Trusting his instincts as an adventurer, he rolled out of the carriage, landing on his back. The soft grass did nothing to dampen his fall, but he quickly got on his feet. When I turned around to see what had happened...
"Re... Rem?" he breathed.
The wooden carriage he was just sleeping in had been crushed in two. An enormous crater replaced the exact location he was lying inside. In the middle was the purple chain of death his visions vividly showed. And to confirm them further, the one at the end of said chain was Rem herself.
And just like the vision, her pink horn shined bright under the cold night.
Like a wild dog chasing its prey, she breathed haggard breaths and growled at the man who conveniently dodged her sneak attack.
"You..." she spat.
As if his mentioning him was the most abhorrent thing in the world, she grimaced and turned to face the boy. The mace flew back to her left hand, echoing the same chains of death through the plains. With the eyes of a crazed killer, she stepped towards the boy, not hiding the pure disgust and desire to kill Rudeus.
"What.. what the fuck Rem!" Rudeus shouted.
Pulling his staff towards him, he began scanning for whatever cover he could use to escape. Though, in the middle of the open plane, his only cover had been destroyed by the mace that would certainly hurl towards him. He couldn't move an inch away, either. Whether it was his instincts as an adventurer or the lingering memories from his vision, he knew the moment he took a step away, the chains of death would crush his body. No matter how much he worked to train his body, his speed was only that of an amateur athlete. He knew he was too slow compared to the dozens of swordsmen he met and the enraged Rem in his visions.
Thus, he mused his only way to life was to predict the trajectory of the chains with his Demon Eye and move the second she threw him to death's door.
"I tolerated you," she gritted her teeth.
"Sister trusted you," she spat.
"But you were just a filthy Witch Cultist!" she shouted, a blood-curdling scream.
She swung her flail with all her might. Dropping to the ground to accelerate its swing, the death spike flew towards Rudeus.
Blast Quagmire
His Eye of Foresight did not miss it. Blasting himself away from the trajectory, he divided the ground between him and Rem with a line of mud swamp. The mace whizzed right past him, just barely grazing his hair.
'I'm... I'm too slow.'
"Rem! What the hell are you doing? What about Crusch and Emilia. Why are you attacking me?" he shouted back.
"Don't fuck with me! You couldn't leave us at hunting us down. You came back to finish us off!" she screamed.
As soon as she finished her screams, she flung her left arm. Hundreds of icicles formed in the shape of spears. The sparkling glimmers of water glistened under the moonlit plane.
"El-Huma!" she shouted, swinging the arm wide.
'Magic?'
This was the first time he had seen Rem use combat magic and certainly the first he'd ever heard of the spell "El-Huma." Without a reference to go by and predict its effects, he solely relied on his Demon Eye.
'It's ice. Bunch of ice spears, wide-range-AOE'
His thoughts stumbled to form. The magic daggers Rem produced barreled them at sonic speeds. If he took the time to think, he'd be skewered before he knew it.
The spread of the icicles told him one thing: even if he dodged, he'd never escape the entire range intact. The icicled formed and flew like the birdshot of a sawed-off shotgun. The only difference was that each shot was slug size, not the tiny pellets you'd expect.
Earth-Wall
A meter-thick wall of earth rose in front of him. As he raised the earth for his protection, Rudeus fell on his back. As a defensive measure, he reduced his vital area as much as possible. He needed to figure out how strong his wall and Rem's spells were. This was his one life, and he had no reason to risk it.
The shards shattered as they hit the Stone Wall. Each crystal crashed, splitting with the sound of a canon fire hitting the side of a fortress. Some more enormous icicles lodged themselves deep into the barricade, cracking Rudeus' one and only protection. When a barrage of shatterings stopped, Rudeus heard a thud across the barrier, which managed to stand firm from the barrage.
'What the.'
But as he registered the sound of someone leaping into the air, he merely saw a bloodied chest caved in by some forceful punch. No, it was his chest that caved open. He immediately looked up to see the crazed horn made in the sky, readying her mace once more. He managed to glimpse at her crazed face. She must be crazy, he thought. Just why would she suddenly attack him out of the blue? But her face said otherwise. Instead of the crazed smile he saw in his vision, the Rem of now was frowning in annoyance. She was not insane or misguided but a woman of focus, commitment, and sheer fucking will.
Blast
He immediately hurled himself backward with his wind spell. His vision had shown exposed ribs and guts protruding from his chest, not shards of icicles sticking out of his body. Whatever Rem was about to do had to be her flail.
But instead of seeing the mace lodged on the ground where he lay, the mace quickly flew right where he landed. Rem had yet to throw her flail early. She expected him to dodge and waited half a second to faint an attack.
Stone Canon
In an act of panic, Rudeus projected a blunt stone bullet with his left outstretched arm. In the fraction of a second he had, he managed to clump up a half-made bullet and fired at the spiked ball. Only to realize too late of his mistake.
The bullet fired and landed on the side of the falling flail and crushed to dust. The bullet was too weak to meaningfully block the blow. No, even if it had been harder, the bullet was flying up while the flail was falling to the ground. Rudeus was at a disadvantage the moment Rem lept into the air. However, it was able to push its trajectory slightly. Instead of landing right in his chest as Rem aimed for, the head crashed into his outstretched arm.
"AGGAGAGGHHHHH MY ARM!" he screamed.
Dropping his staff on the ground, he staggered back and gripped the torn-off limb with his right hand. The mace had struck right on his left hand at an angle, shattering his forearm and elbow. His left arm looked nothing like the sort. It resembled the ground sausages he saw at the butcher store. Just barely dangling with a flap of skin, the bone, muscle, tendons, and blood all mixed together to form what one would mistake for a blood porridge.
'I need to. I need to heal. No, chanting takes too long...'
Burning Place
"GAAAAAAAAHGH"
With his remaining right hand, he conjured a still flame on the stump of his arm. He burned to cauterize the wound, assuming a whole healing chant wouldn't be fast enough. He was only an intermediate healer, anyway. He'd never be able to reattach the limb on his own.
The smell of burning flesh would almost make him puke if not for the burning pain searing his entire left body.
What was left was a charred stump above the shoulder with the end of his bones sticking out of meat.
As his breathing matched the pace of sweat dribbling on his entire body, he looked back at the sky to find the leaping girl.
'Huh? Where, where'd she go.'
But she was nowhere to be seen. He didn't hear the girl land while he cared for his wounds, so where could she have gone? No, she must have masked her landing with the screams of agony. That meant she was lurking here, somewhere.
As he looked around to find the blue-haired assailant, his Demon Eye barely captured his torn open chest. As if ruptured from the inside, the chest exploded out with his ribs and innards.
Earth Fortress
That meant the blow was from behind. He reactively constructed the stone walls around him. He'd never block the shot with a Stone Wall. He'd get hit by the time he turned around. So, the only correct answer he could think of was the one spell that protected its user from all angles. If only he noticed it sooner.
Rudeus felt the crashing mace before hearing it smash through the partially constructed fortress. The flail crashed through the wall, into his back, and threw him through the opposite wall, throwing him on the ground.
He landed face-first on the ground. He wanted to scream so severely from the pain. His back ached as the spiked thorns stabbed through his mage cloak and clothes. But the blow had knocked the wind out of him. He couldn't draw breath to even breathe.
"Haaaaa," he managed to let out.
He took in slow, heavy breaths as he rolled onto his back. As soon as he did, he was pinned to the ground by a weight so heavy he could have mistaken it for a car.
Rudeus raised his remaining right arm. He aimed at the girl he couldn't recognize on top of him, pinning him down to the ground. His stone canon had been too slow to form, so he envisioned a faster, near-instantaneous sonic boom instead.
"Huma!" the girl shouted first.
Before the spell could form from his hand, a single icicle shard fired from the girl's hand instead. It hit Rudeus' palm and pinned it to the ground like nailing to a cross.
This time, Rudeus did not shout. He was in too much pain already to register more. His legs began to stop moving after the blow to his back. His left arm was missing, and his right was pinned to the ground. He always channeled his magic through his arms. Without either, there was simply no way he could fight back.
He merely looked up at the girl standing above him. With his empty mind, he engraved the image of the girl growling at his presence. It was the only thing his pain-riddled, empty mind could do.
"Why?" he managed to mumbled.
He understood what was happening to him. The blow had paralyzed him from the waist down. His back was flayed open from the impact. He was losing blood fast from his wounds. In short, he was dying. Dying at the hands of his colleague he worked with every day for the past few months.
"This will end quick the more you cooperate," the cold voice told him
With his still-working eyes, he looked toward the blue-haired girl and noticed the pink horn had receded. He doubted that fact would help him now, but at least he was sure she was entirely sane.
"Why did you become affiliated with Emilia-sama and Roswaal-sama," she asked in a voice devoid of emotion.
"Fuck, Rem... I just happened to bump into he-GAAAAhhhGH," he replied before his left stump was stomped by Rem's foot.
"How did you know of the Witch Cult's invasion?" she continued, unperturbed by the boy's screams.
"I... I saw it. I saw it, and I di-" he tried to continue before cutting himself off.
That angered the girl more. She let go of her foot and fired a single icicle through his stomach. The blood splattered outwards on her face, though she couldn't care less as the boy wriggled in pain.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to let out all the burning pain in his body. But even screaming seemed too tiring.
"Don't lie to me! I know your kind! You bear the scent of the Witch, the very deity you despicable fiends worship. You couldn't stop at my village and family. Have you come to finish sister off, too!" She screamed in reply.
She gritted her teeth in vexation. She could still remember the burning scene engraved in her mind and the biggest mistake she had to atone for the rest of her life. How much had they already taken from her, and how much more will they take. The girl couldn't take it anymore.
She had planned this ever since Rudeus collapsed in the meeting room. The things he was saying, the sudden well of information he had brought her suspicions, but nothing to the level she would resort to violence. At the most, Al, Rudeus' drinking buddy, was on the list she'd give to Roswaal. But it all fell together when Rudeus collapsed. As he fell to the floor in pain, the vibrant scent of the Witch Cult assaulted the girl. It wasn't the slight fragrance she scents with the likes of Clind. She had suspicions, but Roswaal convinced Rem that Clind was not a cultist. She even doubted if her ability to smell the Witch had been correct since that event. But Rudeus' scent was the same as the air on the day her village was destroyed. Rudeus had to have been a full-blown Witch Cultist in intensity and scent.
"Very well then," her cold voice spoke.
She calmed herself from the rage boiling within her horn. As much as she wanted to keep him for all that Cultists had done, she knew they were too dangerous to be kept alive. Those deranged fanatics worshipped the literal devil. There was no way Rem could understand the inner workings of one through-one interrogation.
"As the head maid under Roswaal L Mathers, Rem sentences the Cultist to death," she calmly continued.
Devoid of rage or hate, she hardened herself to a heart of glass. She felt no emotion. Without malice or pity, she raised her flail above her head, aiming for Rudeus' head.
Rudeus saw it all as it happened. The enraged shouts from the maid, the tantrums she went through, the purposeful torture she continued. He'd had enough at this point. He had already lost strength in his limbs and couldn't even speak. With only his sight and hearing still working, he couldn't even look away as the flail jumped high into the sky.
But before she killed him, he noticed something high in the sky. Color had faded from his vision, so it appeared as a dark spot on the moon's surface. But the spot was moving and growing. As if rapidly approaching, the two. It grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed the shining moon whole.
"Re... behi..." Rudeus tried to say.
Even with his batter body and mind, he tried to call out to the thing flying towards them. He wasn't sure why he wanted to warn the very person trying to kill him. Perhaps at death's door, his mind was too scrambled to properly think.
"What is this? Save your final words for your Witch." Rem spat as she ignored him.
The raised flail spun over her head. She accelerated it to the max she could produce with her usual strength. She would not taint her first time at revenge with the transformation of her horn. She was determined to see it through till the end.
"Hah!" she screamed as she threw the flail, dropping it on Rudeus' head. But as the seconds passed, the flail did not land. It had vanished in the air, the chain still suspended. By the time she looked up, it was too late. The flail had hit the thing that was approaching them.
The White Whale, appearing through the ethereal night, had appeared above them.
"Ah..." she muttered.
And in one fell swoop, the Whale clamped its mouth, swallowing the two whole.
Rudeus could not understand what had happened. All he could feel was how warm the Whale's stomach was. It was the greatest gift he could ask for before perishing in the void without sense.