Chapter 169

Mikhail left the shouting match behind him and quietly poked his head out of the wagon.

"Sorry ends and folks to bury you. I don't much care for the kind of talk you're throwing around."

"L-listen here. He was just joking. A joke! So let's not get worked up…."

Going by the irritation laced through the sneer, the orange-haired youth had no intention of letting this end quietly.

He wasn't going to back off over a few words of mediation from the people around them.

Then I'll have to force it. Make something happen that gets it to stop.

Mikhail looked out at the mountain road bathed in faint moonlight.

He confirmed the two horses pulling them forward, then turned to the side and stretched out his hand.

A noise so faint it would only startle the horses. He'd make one and stall their forward motion….

…Huh?

In an instant, Mikhail went still. As his eyes swept across the side of the road, a pair of crimson eyes locked into view.

Sharp crystal protrusions and prominent fangs jutted clearly above the rounded leaves of the underbrush. The shape of a magical beast.

Rustle.

The instant the brush shook as the beast stepped back, the horses let out startled whinnies and lurched to a halt. The wheels turning beneath the wagon screeched and seized.

"Uwaagh!"

The sudden stop turned the wagon's interior into chaos.

Crashes and groans rang out as people fell, and the unsecured cargo rolled across the floor with a clatter.

"Hey! Drive proper—will you?"

"You! If anyone got hurt because of this—!"

The shock of the stop seemed to have traveled wide. Shouts went up from the wagons ahead and behind too.

"Ugh… dammit, I think I smacked my forehead."

"What just happened? What is it?"

Through the whining and complaints, Mikhail turned his eyes toward the peddlers across from him.

The orange-haired youth was standing in the middle of the wreckage.

The passenger who'd been squaring off with him had been flung halfway across the wagon and was face-down in a corner.

"Tch."

The orange-haired youth clicked his tongue with a look of utter deflation and sat back down in his seat.

The powder-keg atmosphere dispersed like night mist meeting morning.

Looks like the immediate problem sorted itself out.

Mikhail let out a quiet breath, pulled his eyes from the orange-haired youth, and shifted his gaze outside.

"……"

What he was tracking in the surroundings was the trail of the magical beast that had appeared from the underbrush.

The thing with the twitching long ears. But there wasn't a sign of it anywhere. It had probably sized up the procession and fled.

In that moment, a loud voice rang out from beyond the wagon.

"—Everyone, listen up! We'll set out after a sweep of the area, so wait inside the wagons!"

With the shout, the escort detail was already moving into the nearby brush.

Trying to figure out what had spooked the horses, no doubt.

Pretty dark out. They'll have a hard time finding traces of something that small.

That was what Mikhail thought, but he kept it to himself.

He just tilted his head back as though obeying the order and looked up at the night sky.

"……"

About five minutes passed like that. The people who'd been combing through the brush returned to the wagon and reported in.

"Looked around and didn't find anything in particular. Horses are probably just worn out and jumpy."

"Might be best to water them and rest a bit. There's a stream nearby, conveniently enough."

On the escort's recommendation, the procession decided to take a short break. The sound of firewood being set down and kindling catching began to crackle through the air.

"Breaking here works for me. My back and hips have been killing me anyway."

"Air's getting cold. Maybe I'll boil some water for a drink."

Mikhail sat in his corner stretching, watching the passengers head outside.

Only after every figure inside the wagon had cleared out did he move as well.

The shape of the magical beast he'd spotted earlier.

He intended to take a look at the traces left by the fang rabbit that had appeared too soon.

Hop.

Mikhail stepped down from the wagon and fell in behind the people heading toward the stream.

The plan was to walk with the group a while, then peel off and follow the magical beast's trail. But…

"—Maxwell. Where're you off to?"

Mikhail stopped short and turned toward the voice calling his name. Sally was standing there looking at him.

Mikhail glanced between Sally and the two mugs in his hands, then smiled with a slack expression.

"My head's hurting. Figured I'd get some air. People said they were headed to the stream."

"Ah, I see."

Sally nodded without making a fuss, reached out with his right hand, and offered him a mug.

"Drink this before you go. Hot tea."

"Oh, not really in the mood right now."

"Drink it anyway. If you don't warm up, the night air could give you a cold."

Sally held the drink out again. Mikhail paused, glancing at the mug and then at Sally's face, but eventually reached out and took it.

"Thank you."

The mug in his hand was pleasantly warm. The scent of green apple drifted up with the steam.

Mikhail looked down at the pale-green tea, blinked, then raised his head to Sally and asked.

"Who'd this come from?"

"Ah, that."

Sally jerked his thumb backward. His thick finger pointed toward the campfire where people had clustered thickly together.

"The young fellow who almost got into it earlier in the wagon. Said he was sorry for getting things heated and broke out his tea to go around. Apparently it's some pretty pricey… type or other, so folks from the other wagons came over to grab some too."

"Ah. I see."

Mikhail tightened the grip in his fingertips. But without showing any of it, he gave a casual nod and lifted the mug toward his lips, tilting it.

The moment the liquid inside touched his lips…

"—Cough!"

Mikhail clamped a hand over his mouth and broke into coughs. Sally's shoulders jolted in surprise, and Mikhail forced out words between the repeating coughs.

"Ah… I… think I… burned my… tongue."

"Oh dear, hold on! I'll grab you some cold water!"

Sally set down the mug he was holding and rushed off toward the campfire.

"…Haah."

Mikhail let his coughing taper off and watched the receding figure.

Clink.

Once he was sure Sally was far enough away, he picked up both his own mug and Sally's, dumped the liquid into the brush, and fell in line behind the people heading for the stream.

Crunch.

Mikhail pretended to follow along at the tail end of the crowd, then gradually slowed his pace.

He ducked low to avoid being noticed and started moving along the path toward the magical beast's location.

Crunch. Crunch.

The leaves of the low shrubs brushing past him grew rounder, and a crisp coolness touched his cheeks.

The same scenery as before.

Mikhail stopped and crouched toward the ground.

On the damp dirt covered in fallen leaves, a palm-sized print remained.

The magical beast from earlier. Fang rabbit tracks.

Mikhail narrowed his eyes and traced the imprinted steps.

The trail led into the brush. The spacing of the prints, the marks scraped along the ground. Faintly glinting flecks of dirt….

Mikhail drew several low breaths and bit his lip. Then he laid his fingertips on the prints carrying the information.

The gait's uneven, and the weight's pulling to one side. There are crystal fragments scattered around too…. The crystal eating away at the fang rabbit is bigger than expected. Which means.

It was evidence that the anomaly spreading through the world had grown beyond what the original progression accounted for.

"……"

A brief silence passed. Mikhail lifted his hand from the ground and tipped his head back.

The night sky spilled into his eyes. Mikhail looked straight into the quiet scene, closed his eyes, and thought.

The fight comes at the end of this trip. Maybe… I'd better hedge my bets.

---

The procession traveled another day after that. Mikhail sat inside the wagon, watching the sunset and gauging what was about to come.

The magical beasts will close in soon.

The wagon was approaching the point near the exit of the mountain range.

The moment when packs of magical beasts hunting for sacrifices would descend on them was almost here.

Commotion will break out on every side. The cargo in the wagons will take heavy damage, and things will turn into a wreck.

Mikhail blinked, chin propped on his hand.

The tide will tip against us a bit, but the guard reinforcements will arrive in time. That'll put down the chaos.

Mikhail faced the wind raking through his hair and let the sunlight stretching across the ridgeline fill his eyes.

Then he slid his pupils to take in the peddlers across from him, arms folded, pretending to sleep.

But given who they are, they won't want anything to do with the guards.

Mikhail's fingers, resting on his knees, twitched up and down.

The instant they realize the wagon escort has fired up a support flare, they'll quietly leave their seats to find a spot to use a movement scroll.

Mikhail stilled the small motion of his fingers. After one last sidelong glance at the peddlers' bags, he pulled his gaze back to the front.

So what I need to do.

Hide and play scared, and the moment the merchants step out of the cart and leave their bags behind — lift the orders scroll from them.

"……"

Mikhail drew slow, deep breaths. He turned the objective over in his mind and curled the fingertips that had begun pounding.

All right. Let's do this.

—Neiiigh!

It was the instant he'd resolved himself. The wagon wheels whipped sideways at a sharp angle, the cab lurched, and the wagon braked hard.

"Uwaagh!"

"What is it now? Are you out of your mind?"

The same accident as one day before. The passengers started shouting in irritation, but only briefly.

Neiiigh! Neiiigh!

The startled cries of the horses showed no sign of subsiding the way they had before.

Something was wrong. The moment a bad feeling took hold and spread quickly across the passengers' faces—

Grrrrr.

A predator's growl, the kind that freezes its prey mid-motion.

The sharp sound began spreading through the air like a chill.